FIERCE and bitter are the assaults of Satan, who, as the god of this world, not only blinds the minds of those who believe not, but, in times of bodily weakness and suffering, frequently attacks God’s own children, particularly if not firmly rooted and grounded in grace. And too often, alas ! does he succeed with those that may be more or less anxious as to their soul’s salvation. At such seasons, how necessary it is to look away from self unto “Jesus, the author and finisher of faith,” who is now seated on the right hand of the Majesty on high !
Conversing, not long ago, with a sorely-tried child of God, the writer was cheered to know that help had come to his friend’s soul through a simple illustration. And in the hope that God may graciously bless it to others, I will briefly state the substance of our conversation.
My friend had been telling me some of his bitter experiences, especially in the night season, when the enemy was most active. After expressing my sympathy and stating that, in common with most believers, I too was not free from his attacks, I sought to explain what I myself should do in similar circumstances. “Suppose,” said I, “Satan were to come to me tonight, with his subtle wiles, and seek to trouble my soul with the sins of my past life, what, think you, should I say?” He hesitated, and seemed lost in thought. So I added, “This is what I should say: ‘Well, Satan, what have you got against me?’” And I suggested what his possible reply might be “You know what a vile, black sinner you are; how often you have sinned against light and love; in fact you are only fit for hell, and you know that right well.” “Granted, Satan; I fully admit all that, but whatever y on have got against me write on yonder wall.” And as I gaze I see the tempter’s hand writing sin after sin from childhood to youth, youth to middle age, and middle age to hoary hairs. How big the list! how terrible the indictment ! how appalling the number of those countless sins ! My friend was now an eager listener, as I added : “Well, Satan, mind you write them all down ; don’t leave one out from the time of my birth till I die, or the Lord come to take me home; make quite sure you don’t omit one single sin.”
And lo ! the grim hand of my bitter accuser writes on and on until the long black list is complete, and then, in his rage and cruel scorn, I hear the hiss of the serpent, “And what do you think of yourself now ? Are not such as you fit only for the depths of hell, and everlasting burnings?” Turning to my hearer, who was drinking in every word, I asked him, “What do you think I should say to the tempter?” He hesitated, and then slowly answered, “I scarcely know.” Looking into his face I added, “This is what I should say: Yes, Satan, all you say about me is, alas ! only too true; but you have come to the wrong man. You must go to ‘the Man’ who sits upon the throne of God, and whatever charges you have against me, take your accusations there and talk to Him about my sins, for you’ve come to the wrong man. Christ is ‘the Man’ who, at the cross, made Himself responsible for all that I am, and for all that I have done. Go to Him with your charges against me, and you will get for your answer, ‘The Lord rebuke thee, O Satan, even the Lord... rebuke thee; is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?’ Sheltered by His all-atoning blood, I now can say that the Man on the throne will tell you how He bore my sins in His own body on the tree, and He will remind you of that happy night when He redeemed me from your cruel bondage, and whispered to my poor trembling heart those peace-giving words, ‘Behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee,’ and I believed it because it is impossible for God to lie. Yes, Satan, you have come to the wrong man.”
It was time to go, but a few days later I met my friend again. And oh! how he gripped m I my hand with joy as he exclaimed, “How glad a to meet you again; for only last night, when sorely tempted by the devil, your words came back to me with great power, and sweet was the peace that filled my soul as I said to him, ‘You’ve come to the wrong man.’”
Hence, dear reader, with the eye of faith gazing through the opened heavens on “the Man” who sits upon the Father’s throne, the true believer may surely say, in the language of Scripture, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth; who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died; yea, rather that is risen again; who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” His wounded hands and side and feet are the everlasting tokens of that quenchless love. And at peace with God the happy believer loves to sing:
“Though the restless foe accuses,
Sins recounting like a flood;
Every charge our God refuses,
Christ hath answered with His blood.”
S. T.