This was the real crisis in this young man’s history, and it is the crisis in the history of every soul. He had reached a turning point before, when he “began to be in want”; but that in itself did not turn him to his father, the only source of real relief. It is when a soul is in want, and a man comes to himself, that he turns to God. A sense of need is not in itself sufficient. How many who feel a sense of need seek to drown it in dissipation. Or, on the other hand, to allay it by “turning over a new leaf,” that is, leading a more moral life; or even quiet it with outward religious observances.
No, a man must “come to himself,” that is, be brought to feel his helpless and destitute condition, and that with a sense of the goodness there is with God to meet it. “When he came to himself he said.... I perish with hunger,” and that while in his father’s house there was bread enough and to spare for hired servants even.
Have you, my reader, ever been thus “in want” and “brought to thyself?” Depend upon it, the time will come when you will feel your need and come to yourself; if not in this world, in the next. If not in time, it will be in eternity, when it will be too late. The difference between the younger son in Luke 15, and the rich man in Luke 16, is that the first came to himself when mercy was to be had; the latter, when he was beyond the reach of it, even to obtain a drop of water to cool his tongue in his torments. But he felt his need. “Have mercy on me,” he cried. He had come to himself, he felt his condition to the full; “I am tormented in this flame,” he said. But it was too late. Awful, awful, solemn words, “too late.” Oh reader, dear unsaved reader, pause! Turn before it is too late with you forever. Turn to Him who will have mercy,” to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.”
See how earnest the rich man becomes. How he intercedes not only for himself, but for others. (Luke 16:2727Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father's house: (Luke 16:27).) How he values the gospel message, its messengers, and its warnings then, for others, when he realizes that it is all too late for himself, and he settles down in eternal remorse. That was the effect of “coming to himself” when too late. But repentance is the result of “coming to himself” in time, for we find the younger son say, “I will arise and go to my Father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.”
A young man, the possessor of ample fortune and estate, lay on his couch dying. A wild course of dissipation had thus early ruined his constitution, and brought on a fatal malady. Beside him sat his uncle, a christian man, earnestly pleading with him and setting forth the freeness of God’s grace. The young man held the remains of an orange, which he had just sucked, in his hand. “What,” he said, “uncle, do you mean to say that God will receive me, a sinner like me, as empty and valueless to Him as this orange? Why it would be ungentlemanly, as it were, to offer myself to Him in such a worthless plight. Do you mean to say He would take me as I am?” “Yes, I do.” “Then,” said the dying man, as he let the empty orange skin drop to the floor, “I will let Him take me.”
This, then, is repentance, and it is “the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance.” (Rom. 2:44Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and longsuffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance? (Romans 2:4).) The evidence of it was the profligate’s confession, “Father, I have sinned.”
I wish to call your earnest attention to the fact, that he went as he was. He had said, “I will arise and go to my father,” and he went. Unlike many who follow these words in church, Sunday after Sunday, but never go—have no desire to go—have not “come to themselves;” in fact, do not feel the misery of their condition—have not even “begun to be in want” that is, to feel the vanity, the emptiness of everything here to satisfy the cravings of an immortal soul.
And not only did he arise and go, but he went as he was, and owned what he had done and what he was. He had “sinned,” and was unworthy. The fatal mistake which so many make of trying to make themselves better, more fit for God, before going, is well illustrated by the following story of the beggar and the painter:
A celebrated painter was engaged on a great picture of “The Prodigal Son,” a picture which he intended to be a masterpiece, and to establish his reputation. He had already painted in all the subsidiary objects. The father’s house was seen in the background, with the calf in the stall The servants had the robe and ring and sandals in readiness, even to the father running forth with outstretched arms to embrace his long lost son. But the son, the central object of his picture, was lacking. A blank occupied the place where he should have stood, for the painter had never yet seen a subject sufficiently destitute and degraded to sit for a model of what he considered his prodigal should be. One day when walking the streets of London his eye lighted on a broken down, disheveled, ragged, filthy creature. He thought he had never seen such a wretched object in his whole life before. He was filled with delight. “Here” thought he, “is the very thing I want. At last I have found a model that will come up even to my idea of what the prodigal was like.” He went up to the man, and, accosting him, told him he could offer him a sum of money which would be a prize to such as he, provided he would do exactly what he told him, and sit as a model for a picture he was painting. And as an evidence of his good faith he produced a sovereign, and gave it to the man, who, as may be supposed, readily consented. “But,” said the painter, “mind you come to me just as you are, do not alter or improve your appearance in the smallest particular. I want you just as you are.” Having laid these strict injunctions upon him, and appointed the time for his first sitting, he gave him a card with his name and address. No sooner had the gentleman left him, amazed at such a piece of luck falling to him, and gazing at the sovereign in his hand—he had not possessed such a sum all at once for years, if ever, and then so much more in prospect; no sooner was he alone than he began to think what he should do. First of all, he would go and have his fill at a cook shop. Having done this, and feeling somewhat easier and on better terms with himself, he began to consider his condition. A mirror, hanging on the wall, reflected his dirty face and unkempt hair. Why, even he was shocked at the filthiness of his appearance. “This would never do,” thought he. “What, go to a gentleman’s house in such a state as this!” And then his garments! He began to examine them one by one. The coat was out at the elbows, patched and torn find greased all over, and held together over his naked chest by some odd pieces of string. His trousers broken at the knees, frayed out at the bottoms, and two odd boots, through various rents in which his crippled feet protruded. “This would never do.” He must rig himself up a bit to make himself fit for a gentleman’s house. So off he went and got a piece of soap, and at the nearest pump he washed off as much of his dirt as he could. At a barber’s he had his long, matted hair and beard cut and made decent-looking. And with the remainder of the sovereign he procured a suit of clothes and boots at a slop shop. When arrayed in these, and having duly admired himself, in a condition in which he had not seen himself for years, he awaited the time appointed for going to the artist’s studio. He presented himself at the address he had received in due time, and rang the bell. A footman answered the door, and asked his business. “Please sir, the gentleman as lives here told me to come to sit for he to paint.” “You are not the man,” replied the servant. “Yes, I be,” responded the beggar. “No, you are not,” replied the servant, “you cannot be the man. My master told me to expect a dirty beggar in rags and tatters.” “I be the man,” asserted the other, and produced the artist’s card in proof, “But I thought it would never do to come to a gentleman’s house without cleaning myself up a bit.” “That is just what my master did not want you to do,” answered the servant. “But I will tell him you are here, and see what he says.” When the servant announced the model’s arrival to the expectant artist, he rushed out, without hearing more, to bring in the object he had so long sought, and had found at last—the model which would enable him to paint in the prodigal in his great picture. What was his dismay when his eyes fell on the made up man before him. He had lost his ideal, “You have spoiled it all, you have spoiled it all. I told you to come just as you were,” he exclaimed, and without waiting to hear the wretched man’s explanations he ordered his servant to thrust him out of doors.
How many make this grave mistake. They go to the pump of morality, temperance or legality to cleanse their ways, or to the slop shop of religious observances—religion without Christ—to fit themselves for God. These things only spoil them for God and for His grace. The more unworthy the objects, the more their salvation brings glory to God. The chief of sinners will be the brightest trophy of grace for eternity. Not that I would say one word against temperance, morality, or religion in their proper place, but that is after and not before salvation. (See Eph. 2:8-108For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: 9Not of works, lest any man should boast. 10For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them. (Ephesians 2:8‑10).) Not to procure salvation but the proofs and fruits of grace already received.
“Confession is good for the soul” is a true proverb. It is the invariable accompaniment of real repentance. It is due to God. Paul preached “repentance toward God,” as well as faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. And it is the forerunner of forgiveness. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:99If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9).) And again, “He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.” (Pro. 28:1313He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy. (Proverbs 28:13).)