11. Its Recovery (part 1)
11. Its Recovery
I
We shall attempt little more here than seeking to show the necessity for recovery from a spiritual decline. Nor will that be an easy task: not because of any inherent difficulty in this aspect of our subject, but owing to the variety of cases which need to be considered, and which should be dealt with separately. There are some physical ailments which if handled promptly call for comparatively mild treatment, but there are others that demand more drastic means and remedies. Yet as any doctor will testify, many are careless about what are deemed trifling disorders and delay so long in attending to the same that their condition so deteriorates as to become dangerous and often fatal. In the last chapter we pointed out that every spot was not leprosy: yet it should be remembered that certain spots which resembled that disease aroused suspicion, and required that the patient be examined by the priest, isolated from others, and kept under his observation until the case could be more definitely determined—depending upon whether there was a further deterioration or spreading of the spot (Leviticus 13:4-8).
It is much to be doubted if there is any Christian on earth who so retains his spiritual vitality and vigor that he never stands in need of a “reviving’ of his heart (Isaiah 58:15); that there is no time when he feels it requisite to cry quicken you me according to your word” (Psalm 119:25). Yet it must not be concluded from this statement that every saint experiences a definite relapse in his spiritual life, and still less that a life of ups and downs, decays and recoveries, backslidings and restorations, is the best that can be expected. The experiences of others is not the Rule which God has given us to walk by. Crowded dispensaries and hospitals do indeed supply a warning, but they certainly do not warrant my lapsing into carelessness or fatalistically assuming I too shall before long be physically afflicted. God has made full provision for His people to live a holy, healthy, and happy life, and if I observe many of them failing to do so, it should stimulate me to greater watchfulness against the neglect of God’s provision.
After what has been discussed in previous chapters it should scarcely be necessary to remind the reader that unless the Christian maintains close and steady communion with God, daily fellowship with and drawing from Christ’s fullness, and regular feeding on the Word, the pulse of his spiritual life will soon beat more feebly and irregularly. Unless he often meditates on the love of God, keeps fresh before his heart the humiliation and sufferings of Christ, and frequents the throne of grace, his affections will soon cool, his relish for spiritual things will decrease, and obedience will neither be so easy nor pleasant. If such a deterioration be ignored or excused, it will not be long before his heart glides imperceptibly into carnality and worldliness: worldly pleasures will begin to attract, worldly pursuits absorb more of his attention, or worldly cares weight him down. Then, unless there be a return to God and humbling of the heart before Him, it will not he long—unless providence hinder—before he be found in the ways of open transgression.
There are degrees of backsliding. In the case of a real child of God it always commences in the heart’s departure from Him, and where that be protracted, evidences thereof will soon appear in the daily walk. Once a Christian becomes a backslider outwardly he has lost his distinguishing character, for then there is little or nothing to distinguish him from a religious worldling. Backsliding always presupposes a profession of faith and adherence unto Christ, though not necessarily the existence or reality of the thing professed. An unregenerate professor may be sincere though deluded and he may, from various considerations, persevere in his profession to the end. But more frequently, he soon wearies of it, and after the novelty has worn off or the demands made upon him become more intolerable, he abandons his profession, and like the sow returns to his wallowing in the mire. Such is an apostate, and with very rare exceptions—if indeed there be any at all—his apostasy is total and final.
Up to the beginning of this chapter we have confined ourselves to the spiritual life of the regenerate, but we have now reached the stage where faithfulness to souls requires us to enlarge our scope. Under our last division we dwelt upon spiritual decline: its nature, its causes, its insidiousness and its symptoms. It is pertinent therefore to inquire now, What will be the sequel to such a decline? A general answer cannot be returned, for as the decline varies considerably in different cases—some being less and some more, acute and extended than others—the outcome is not always the same. Where the relapse of a Christian be marked—if not to himself, yet to onlookers—he has entered the class of “backsliders” and that will cause the spiritual to stand in doubt of him. It is this consideration which requires us to enlarge the class to which we now address our remarks, otherwise, unregenerate professors who have deteriorated in their religious life would be likely to derive false comfort from that which applies only to those who have been temporarily despoiled by Satan.
Unless spiritual decline be arrested it will not remain stationary, but become worse, and the worse it becomes the less are we justified in regarding it as a “spiritual decline,” and the more does Scripture require us to view it as the exposure of a worthless profession. Hence it is that any degree of spiritual deterioration is to be regarded not complacently, but as something serious and if not promptly corrected, as highly dangerous in its tendency. But Satan will attempt to persuade the Christian that though his zeal has abated somewhat and his spiritual affection cooled, there is nothing for him to worry about; that even if his health has begun to decline, yet, seeing he has not fallen into any great sin, his condition is not at all serious. But every decay is dangerous, especially such as the mind is ready to excuse and plead for a continuance therein. The nature and deadly tendency of sin is the same in itself, whether it be in an unregenerate, or a regenerate person, and if it be not resisted and mortified, repented of and forsaken, the outcome will be the same. “When lust has conceived, it brings forth sin, and sin, when it is finished, brings forth death, Do not err, my beloved brethren” (James 1:15, 16).
Three stages of spiritual decline are solemnly set before us in Revelation 2 and 3. First, to the Ephesian backslider Christ says, “I have against you, because you have left your first love” (2:4). That is the more striking and searching because there was much here that the Lord commended: “I know your works and your labor and your patience . . . and for my name’s sake have labored and have not fainted.” Yet He adds, “Nevertheless, I have against you.” In this case, things were still all right in the external life, but there was an inward decay. Observe well that this Divine indictment “I have against you because you have left your first love” is an unmistakably plain intimation that Christians are held accountable for the state of their love Godwards. There are some who seem to conclude from those words “the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit which is given unto us” (Romans 5:5) that they have no personal responsibility in connection therewith, and who attribute to the sovereignty of God their coldness of heart, rather than blaming themselves for the waning of their affections. But that is highly reprehensible: being an adding of insult to injury.
It is as much the duty of a saint to maintain a warm and constant affection to Christ as it is to preserve his faith in regular exercise, and he is no more warranted in excusing his failure in the one than in the other. We are expressly bidden, “Keep yourselves in the love of God” (Jude) and “set your affection on things above” (Colossians 3:1), and it is a horrible perversion and abuse of a blessed truth if I attribute my not doing so unto God’s sovereign withholding from me the inclination. Those words of Christ’s “I have against you” is the language of censure because of failure, and He certainly had not used it unless he was to blame. Observe He does not merely say “You have lost your first love,” as it is so frequently misquoted—man ever tones down what is unpalatable! No, “you have left your first love”—something more serious and heinous. One may “lose” a thing involuntarily, but to leave it is deliberate action! Finally, let us duly note that our Lord regarded that departure not as an innocent infirmity, but as a culpable sin, for He says “repent”!
In his faithful sermon on Revelation 2:4 C. H. Spurgeon pointed out that we ought to feel alarmed if we have left our first rove, and ask the question, “Was I ever a child of God at all?” going on to say: “Oh, my God, must I ask myself this question? Yes, I will. Are there not many of whom it is said, they went out from us because they were not of us? Are there not some whose goodness is as the morning cloud and as the early dew—may that not have been my case? I am speaking for you all. Put the question: may I not have been impressed under a certain sermon, and may not that impression have been a mere carnal excitement? May it not have been that I thought I repented, but did not really repent? May it not have been the case that I got a hope where, but had not a right to it? and never had the loving faith that unites me to the Lamb of God? And may it not have been that I only thought I had love to Christ, and never had it; for if I really had love to Christ should I be as I now am? See how far I have come down! may I not keep on going down until my end shall be perdition and the fire unquenchable? Many have gone from heights of a profession to the depths of damnation, and may I not be the same? Let me think, if I go on as I am, it is impossible for me to stop; if I am going downwards, I may go on doing so. And O my God, If I go on backsliding for another year—who knows where I may have backslidden to? Perhaps into some gross sin. Prevent, prevent it by Your grace! Perhaps I may backslide totally. If I am a child of God I know I cannot do that; but still may it not happen that I only thought I was a child of God?”
Searching as is the complaint of Christ to the Ephesian backslider, His word to the Sardinian is yet more drastic: “I know your works, that you have a name that you live, and are dead” (3:1). That does not signify that He was here addressing an unregenerate person, but rather one whose conduct belied his name. His life did not correspond with his profession. He had a reputation for piety, but there was no longer evidence to justify it, no fruit to warrant it any longer. Not only had there been deterioration within, but also without. The salt had lost its savor, the fine gold had become dim, and hence his profession brought no honor and glory to Christ. He bids him “Be watchful,” for that was the very point at which he had failed. “And strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die,” which shows the “are dead” of verse 1 does not mean dead in sins. “For I have not found your works perfect before God”—not “complete” or “full.” Good works were not yet totally abandoned, but many of them were lacking. Part of his duty was listlessly performed, the other part neglected, and even the former was ready to die.”
Thus it will be seen that the case of the Sardinian backslider is much worse than that of the Ephesian. There is no remaining stationary in Christianity: if we do not advance, we retrograde; if we are not fruit-bearing branches of the Vine, we become cumberers of the ground. Decay of grace is not a thing to be regarded lightly, and treated with indifference. If it is not attended to and corrected, our condition will grow worse. If we do not return to our first love—by heeding the injunctions laid down in Revelation 2:5—then we may expect to become like the Sardinian backslider: one whose witness for Christ is marred. Unless our hearts are kept right, our affection to Christ warm, then the life will soon deteriorate—our works will be deficient both in quality and quantity, and those around us will perceive it. Before long a “name to live” is all we shall have: the profession itself will be invalid, worthless, “dead.”
But worst of all is the Laodicean professor (3:15-20). What makes his case so fearfully solemn is that we are at a loss where to place him, how to classify him—whether he is a real Christian who has fearfully backslidden, or naught but an empty professor. To him Christ says “you are neither hot nor cold,” neither one thing nor the other, but rather an unholy mixture. Such are those who vainly attempt to serve two masters, who are worshipers of God one day, but worshipers of mammon the other six. To him Christ goes on to say “I would you were cold or hot”: that is either an open and avowed enemy or a faithful and consistent witness for Me. Be one thing or the other: a foe or a friend, an utter worldling or one who is in spirit and in truth a “stranger and pilgrim” in this scene. Corrupt Christianity is more offensive to Christ than is open fidelity. If he who bears his name does not depart from iniquity, His honor is affected. “Because you are lukewarm . . . I will spue you out of my mouth”: in your present condition you are an offense to me, and I can no longer own you.
It is the figure of an emetic which Christ there uses: the mingling together of what is hot and cold, thus producing a “lukewarm” draught which is nauseating to the stomach. And that is exactly what an “inconsistent Christian” is to the Holy One. He who runs with the have and hunts with the hounds, who is one man inside the church and a totally different one outside; he who seeks to mix godliness with worldliness “I will spue you out of my mouth”—instead of confessing his name before the Father and His holy angels. But observe what follows: “you say, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing.” Exactly opposite is this estimation of his from Christ’s. No longer “poor in spirit” (Matthew 5:3), he declares himself to be “rich.” No longer coming to the throne of grace as a beggar to obtain help, he deems himself to be “increased with goods.” No longer sensible of his ignorance, weakness, emptiness, he feels himself to “have need of nothing.” That is what makes his case so dangerous and desperate: he has no sense of personal need.
“And know not that you are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.” As carnality and worldliness increase, so also does pride and complacency, and where they dominate spiritual discernment becomes non-existent, Phariseeism and self-sufficiency are inseparable. It was to those who prayed, “God, I thank you, that I am not as other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers,” and who asked Christ, “are we blind also?” to whom He said, “you say, We see: therefore your sin remains” (John 15:41). The Pharisee boasted “I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess”: in his own esteem and avowal he was “rich and increased with goods, and had need of nothing,” and for that very reason he knew not that He was “wretched and miserable and poor.” That too is another form of the nauseating mixture which is so abhorrent to Christ: orthodox in doctrine, but corrupt in practice. One who is loud in claiming to be sound in the faith but who is tyrannical and bitter toward those who differ from him, who holds “high doctrine but cannot live in peace with his brethren, is as offensive to Christ as if he were thoroughly worldly.
Can such a character as the one who has just been before us be a real though a backslidden Christian? Frankly, we know not, for we are unable to say just how far a saint may fall into the mire and foul his garments before God recovers him, by answering him with “terrible things in righteousness” (Psalm 65:5). Before He made good that awful threat and spued out the Laodicean professor, Christ made a final appeal to him. “I counsel you to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that you may be rich; and white clothing, that you may be clothed and the shame of your nakedness do not appear; and anoint your eyes with eye salve, that you may see.” But though we do not feel capable of deciding whether or not “the root of the matter” really is in him, two things are plain to us. First, that if I have “left my first love” it will not be long before my profession will become “dead,” and unless it is revived I shall soon be a Laodicean. Second, that while any person is in a Laodicean state he has no Scriptural warrant to regard himself as a Christian, nor should others consider him as such,
There are many professing Christians who have declined in their practice of piety to a considerable extent, yet who comfort themselves with the idea that they will be brought to repentance before they die. But that is not only an unwarrantable comfort, but is presumptuously tempting God. As another has pointed out, “Whoever plunges into the gulf of backsliding or continues easy in it under the idea of being recovered by repentance, may find himself mistaken. Both Peter and Judas went in, but only one of them came out! There is reason to fear that thousands of professors are now lifting up their eyes in torment, who in this world reckoned themselves good men, who considered their sins as pardonable errors, and laid their accounts of being brought to repentance: but, before they were aware, the Bridegroom came and they were not ready to meet him.” They of whom it is said, they are “sudden back by a perpetual backsliding they hold fast deceit, they ref use to return (Jeremiah 8:5) are the ones “who draw back unto perdition” (Hebrews 10:39). And my reader, if you have left your first love, you have “departed from the living God,” and until you humbly and penitently return to Him can have no guarantee that you will not be a “perpetual backslider.”
We should carefully distinguish between the sin which indwells us and our falling into sin. The former is our depraved nature, which God holds us accountable to make no provision for, to resist its workings and refuse its solicitations. The latter is, when through lack of watching against indwelling corruptions, sin breaks forth into open acts. It is an injurious thing to fall into sin, whether secretly or openly, and sooner or later the effects will certainly be felt. But to continue therein, is much more evil and dangerous. God has denounced a solemn threatening against those who persist in sin: He “wounds the head of His enemies, the hairy scalp of such a one as goes on still in his trespasses” (Psalm 68:21). For those who have known the way of righteousness to pursue a course of sin is highly offensive to God. He has provided a remedy (Proverbs 28:13): but if instead of confessing and forsaking our sins, we sink into hardness of heart, neglect prayer, shun the company of the faithful, and seek to efface one sin by the committal of another, we are in imminent danger of being abandoned by God and are “near unto cursing, whose end is to be burned” (Hebrews 6:8).
Let us return to the point where we almost began and ask again, What will be the sequel to a decline? It should now be still more evident that a general answer cannot be returned. Not only does God exercise His sovereignty here, using His own good pleasure and not acting uniformly, but differences from the human side of things have also to be taken into account. Much will depend upon whether it be the spiritual decline of a real Christian or simply the religious decay of a mere professor. If the former, the sequel will vary according to whether the decline be internal only or accompanied or followed by falling into open sin. So, too, there is a doctrinal departure from God as well as a practical, as was the case with the Galatians. However, whatever be the type of case this is certain, the one who lapses into a state of torpor needs to respond to that call “Now it is high time to awake out of sleep let us therefore cast off the works of darkness . . .” (Romans 13:11, 12).
11. Its Recovery
II
We have sought to make clear the urgent necessity for recovery from a spiritual decline: we turn now to consider its desirability. Look at it first from the Godward side. Is it not inexcusable that we should so evilly requite the eternal Lover of our souls? If He who was rich for my sake became so poor that He had not where to lay His head, in order that I (a spiritual pauper) might be made rich, what is due Him from me? If He died the shameful death of the cross that you might live, is not your life to be devoted wholly to Him? If you be Christ’s, you are not your own, but “bought with a price” and therefore called upon to “glorify Him in your body and in your spirit” (1 Corinthians 6:20). If He can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, think you that He is moved if we leave our first love and divide our affections with His rivals? Do you suppose that a backslidden Christian affords Him any pleasure? Surely you are aware of the fact that such a case brings no honor to Him. Then let His love constrain you to return and reform your ways, so that you may again show forth His praises and give him delight.
Consider your case in view of other Christians. There is a bond uniting the saints which is closer than any natural tie: “so we, being many are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another” (Romans 12:5), and therefore “those members should have the same care one for another” (1 Corinthians 12:25). So vital and intimate is that mystical union that if “one member suffer, all the members suffer with it” (v. 25). If one member of your physical body is affected, there is a reaction throughout your whole system: so it is in the mystical Body. The health or sickness of your soul exerts a very real influence, either for good or for evil, upon your brethren and sisters. For their sake then, it is most desirable that if in a spiritual decline you should be restored. If you are not, your example will be a stumbling block to them, and if they have much association with you their zeal will be dampened and their spirits chilled. Surely it is not a matter of little concern whether you are a help or hindrance to your fellow-saints. “Whoever shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and he were drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matthew 18:6).
Contemplate your case in connection with your unsaved relatives and friends. Do you not know that one of the main obstacles in the way of many from giving a serious consideration to the gospel, is the inconsistent lives of so many who profess to believe it? Years ago we read of one who was concerned about the soul of his son, and on the eve of his departure for a foreign land, sought to press upon him the claims and excellency of Christ. He received this reply: “Father, I am sorry, but I cannot hear what you say for seeing what you do”! Is that the unuttered sentiment of your child? You may reply, I do not believe that anything in my conduct can have any influence on the eternal destiny of any soul. Then you are woefully ignorant. “Wives, be in subjection to your own husbands; that, if any obey not the Word, they also may without the Word be won by the conversation [behavior] of the wives” (1 Peter 3:1). In saving sinners God uses a variety of means, as in prejudicing sinners Satan employs many agents; is God or Satan most likely to use you? Most certainly the latter, if you are in a backslidden state.
Coming lower still, let us appeal to your own interests. What have you gained by leaving your first love? Have you found the vanities of this world more pleasing than the feast which the gospel sets before you? Does association with empty professors and the ungodly supply more satisfaction to the heart than fellowship with the Father and His Son? No, the very opposite. Rather have you discovered that in forsaking the Fountain of living waters, you have betaken yourself to broken cisterns which hold none. The joy of salvation you once had is departed: the peace of God which passes all understanding that formerly ruled your heart and mind through Christ Jesus, does so no longer. Today your case resembles that of “the prodigal”—feeding on husks in the far country, while the rich fare of the Father’s House is no longer partaken of by you. An uneasy conscience, a restless spirit, a joyless heart is now your portion. Have you not reason to cry “O that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me: when his lamp shined on my head . . . as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle” (Job 29:2-4)? Then whose fault is it that you do not again have that blessed experience?
Yes, from every viewpoint, it is most desirable that a Christian he recovered from his spiritual decline. Yet it is also important that he should not conclude he has been recovered when such is not the ease. Since a backslidden state is far from being agreeable, it is natural for one in it to want to be delivered from it. For that very reason it is much to be feared that many have prematurely grasped at the promise of forgiveness and said to their souls, Peace, peace, when there was no peace. As there are many ways by which a convicted sinner seeks peace for his soul, without finding it, so it is with a backslider. If he leans unto his own understanding, follows the devices of his own heart, or avails himself of the remedies advertised by religious quacks, he will rather be worsened than improved. Unless he complies with the injunctions laid down in the Word of Truth for such cases and meets the requirements therein specified, there can be no real recovery for him. Alas that this is so little realized today, and that so many who went astray and think they are returned to the Bishop of their souls are laboring tinder a delusion.
If there is to be a real recovery it is requisite that the right means be used, and not that which is destructive of what is desired. When trees grow old or begin to decay it is useful to dig about them and manure them, for often that will cause them to flourish again and abound in fruit. But if instead of so doing we removed them out of their soil and planted them in another, so far from that advantaging them they would wither and die. Yet there are many professing saints who suppose that the decay of grace does not arise from themselves and the evil of their hearts, but rather attribute the same to uncongenial surroundings, unfavorable circumstances, their present occasion or station in life, and persuade themselves that as soon as they be freed from those, they will return to their first love and again delight themselves in spiritual things. But that is a false notion and spiritual delusion. Let men’s circumstances and stations of life be what they will, the truth is that all their departures from God proceed from an evil heart of unbelief, as is clear from Hebrews 3:13. Do not deceive and flatter yourself then with the idea that what is needed for a recovery from your spiritual decline is but a removal into more favorable and congenial circumstances.
As it is from want of watchfulness and because of the allowance of sin that all decays proceed, so a return unto unsparing mortification of our lusts, with all the duties that lead thereunto, must be the way of recovery. Yet at this point, too, we need to be much on our guard lest we substitute for the denyings of self which God has enjoined, those pharisaical or papistical inventions which are of no value. Under the name and pretense of the means and duties of mortification men have devised and enjoined a number of works, ways, and duties, which God never appointed or approved, nor will He accept; but will rather ask “who has required this at your hand?” (Isaiah 1:12). Self-imposed abstinences and austerities may “have indeed a show of wisdom in will worship, and humility, and neglecting of the body” (Colossians 2:23), but they will not profit the soul one iota. Unless those who are weighted down with a sense of guilt conduct themselves by the light of the Gospel they will think to placate the displeasure of God by betaking themselves to an unusual course of severities which He has nowhere commanded. No abstinence from lawful things will deliver us from the consequences of having indulged in unlawful ones.
Again, the one who is exercised over and distressed by his spiritual decline is very liable to be wrongly counseled if he turns to his fellow-Christians for advice and help. It is to be feared that in this day there are few even among the people of God who are qualified to be of real assistance to others. In most instances their own spirituality is at such a low ebb that if they are turned to for relief, they will only be found to be “physicians of no value” (Job 13:4). And if they consulted the average preacher or pastor, the result is not likely to prove much better. Of old Jehovah complained of the unfaithful priests of Israel “they have healed also the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace” (Jeremiah 6:14). There are not a few such today. If one who was mourning over having left his first love asked them the way of return thereto, instead of probing the conscience to ascertain the root of the “hurt,” they would endeavor to quiet his fears amid soothe him; instead of faithfully warning him of the seriousness of his case, they would say there was nothing to he unduly exercised over, that perfection is not attainable in this life; and instead of naming the means God has appointed, would tell him to continue attending the services regularly and contributing liberally to the cause, and all would be well. Many a wound has been skinned over without being cured.
“When Ephraim saw his sickness and Judah saw his wound, then went Ephraim to the Assyrian and sent to king Jareb: yet could he not heal you nor cure you of your wound” (Hos. 5:13). The historical reference is to Israel and Judah when, in great danger from the pressure of enemies, instead of humbling themselves before God and seeking His help, they betook themselves unto a neighboring nation and looked to it for protection; yet to no avail. But it has a spiritual application to those who are conscious of their spiritual decline, but who turn to the wrong quarter for deliverance. Backsliders are often aware of their wretched plight, but perceive not that sin is the cause of it and God alone can heal their backsliding (Hos. 14:4). When His chastening rod falls upon them, so far from recognizing that it is His mighty hand correcting them, that it is His righteous hand dealing with them, they imagine it is only “circumstances” which are against them, and turn to the creature to extricate them; but to no good effect. Since there has been a departure from God there must be a return to Him, and in that way He has appointed, or there can be no recovery from the evil consequences of that departure.
We turn now to consider the possibility of recovery. It may appear strange to some of our readers that we should deem it necessary to mention such a thing, still more so that we should discuss it in some detail. If so, surely they forget that since Satan succeeds in persuading many a convicted sinner that his case is hopeless, that he has carried his rebellion against God to such lengths as to be beyond the reach of mercy, driving him into a state of abject despair; it should not be thought strange that he will employ the same tactics with a backslidden saint—assuring him that he has sinned against such favors, privileges, and light, that his case is now hopeless? Those who have read the history of John Bunyan—and his case is far from being unique—and learned of his lying so long in the slough of despond, when the Devil made him believe he had committed the unpardonable sin, should not be surprised to learn that he is still plying the same trade and persuading one and another that he has so far departed from the Lord that his recovery is impossible.
But we do not have to go outside the Scriptures to find saints not only in a state of despondency and dejection before God, but in actual despair of again enjoying His favor. Take the case of Job. True, there were times when he could say “I know that My Redeemer lives,” and “when he has tried me I shall come forth as gold.” But his assurance was not always thus: there were also seasons when he exclaimed “mine hope has he removed like a tree, he has also kindled his wrath against me” (19:10, 11). True, he erred in his judgment, nevertheless such was how he felt in the dark hour of trial. Take the case of Asaph: “My sore ran in the night and ceased not: my soul refused to he comforted. I remembered God, and was troubled.” Is not that an apt description of many a backslider as he calls to mind the omniscience, the holiness, the justice of God? But did he not find relief by reminding himself of God’s grace and loving-kindness? No, for he went on to ask “will the Lord cast off forever? and will He be favorable no more? Is His mercy clean gone forever? Does His promise fail for evermore? Has God forgotten to be gracious? has He in anger shut up His tender mercies?” (Psalm 77:7-10). That he should speak thus was indeed his infirmity, yet it shows into what despondency a saint may fall.
Consider the case of Jeremiah. Said he “I am the man that has seen affliction by the rod of his wrath. . . . Surely against me is he turned. He has set me in dark places. . . . He has hedged me about, that I cannot get out: he has made my chain heavy. Also when I cry and shout, he shuts out my prayer. . . . He has filled me with bitterness, he has made me drunken with wormwood. . . . You have removed my soul far off from peace. And I said, My strength and my hope is perished from the Lord” (Lam. 3:1-18). Is not that the language of despair! It was not only that his hope was weak and wavering, but He felt it had “perished,” and that “from before the Lord” Lower than that one cannot get. He had no expectation of deliverance; he saw no possibility of being recovered from his wretched condition. And think you my reader there are no Christians in such a sad plight today? If so, ask yourself, Why has God placed on permanent record such groanings of His people when they occupied the dungeons of despair? The time may come when such language will exactly suit your case, and if so, you will be very glad to hear that there is a possibility of deliverance, a door of hope opened in the valley of Achor.
There can be little room for doubt that the chief reason why so many professors today see no need for pointing out that it is possible for a backslidden Christian to be restored, is because of the defective teaching they sit under. They hold such light views of the sinfulness of sin, they perceive so faintly the spirituality and strictness of God’s law, they have such a dim conception of His ineffable holiness, that their consciences are comatosed, and hence blind to their own state, and unaware of what would be involved in delivering them out of it. They have had “Once saved, always saved,” “My sheep shall never perish,” dinned into their ears so often, they take it for granted every backslider will be restored as a matter of course—that is, without any deep exercises of heart on their part or compliance with the requirements which God has laid down. Yes, there are extensive circles in Christendom today where it is taught “having forgiven you all trespasses” (Colossians 2:13) means “every trespass: past, present, and future,” and that so far from the Christian asking God for daily forgiveness, he should rather thank Him for having already forgiven him. Of course those who swallow such deadly poison need not be informed that recovery from a relapse is possible.
But different far is it with one who lives in the fear of the Lord, whose conscience is tender, who views sin in the light of Divine holiness. When he is overtaken by a fault, he is cut to the quick, and should he so far decline as to leave his first love, he will find a way of recovery by no means easy; and should he continue departing from God until his case become such that he has a name to live but is dead, he may abandon hope entirely. When he seeks a return to the Lord, it will be a case of “out of the depths have I cried unto you” (Psalm 130:1)—out of the depths of his heart, out of the depths of conviction, out of the depths of anguished contrition, out of the depths of despondency and despair. In his remarkable book on Psalm 130 J. Owen after pointing out that “gracious souls after much communion with God may be brought into inextricable depths and entanglements on the count of sin,” went on to define those “depths” as “1. Loss of the wanted sense of the love of God which the soul did formerly enjoy. 2. Perplexed thoughtfulness about their great and wretched unkindness towards God. 3. A revived sense of justly deserved wrath. 4. Oppressing apprehension of temporal judgments.”
But the eminent Puritan did not stop there. He went on to say, “There may be added hereunto, prevailing fears for a season of being utterly rejected by God, of being found a reprobate at the last day. Jonah seems to have concluded so: ‘Then said I, I am cast out of your sight’ (3:4)—I am lost forever: God will own me no more. And Heman, ‘I am counted with them that go down into the pit, free among the dead, like the slain that He in the grave, when you remember me no more: and they are cut off from your hand’ (Psalm 88:4, 5). This may reach the soul, until the sorrows of Hell encompass and lay hold upon it: until it be despaired of comfort, peace, rest; until it be a terror to itself, and be ready to choose strangling rather than life. This may befall a gracious soul on the account of sin. But yet because this fights directly against the life of faith God does not, unless it be in extraordinary cases, suffer it to lie long in this horrible pit, wherein there is no water—no refreshment. But this often falls out, that even the saints themselves are left for a season to a fearful expectation of judgment and fiery indignation, as to the prevailing apprehension of their mind.”
We can bear testimony that in our extensive reading we have come across not merely a few isolated and exceptional cases of backslidden saints who had sunk into such depths of soul trouble, distress, and horror, but many such; and that in the course of our travels we have personally met more than one or two who were in such darkness and anguish of heart that they had no hope, and no efforts of ours could dispel their gloom. Let that serve as a solemn warning unto those who at present are enjoying the light of God’s countenance: “Let him that thinks he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12)—fall into a state of unwatchfulness and then into wickedness. Sin is that “abominable thing” which God hates (Jeremiah 44:4), whether it be found in the unregenerate or the regenerate. If we trifle with temptation then we shall be made to taste what an exceeding bitter thing it is to depart from the living God. If we enter the paths of unrighteousness we shall obtain personal proof that “the way of transgressors is hard.” And the higher have been our privileges and attainments, the more painful will be the effects from a fall.
But thank God the recovery of a backslider is possible, no matter how heinous or long protracted it was. The cases of David, of Jonah, of Peter demonstrate that! “No man that is fallen under spiritual decays has any reason to say, there is no hope, provided he take the right way of recovery. If every step that is lost in the way to Heaven should be irrecoverable, woe would be unto us: we should all assuredly perish. If there were no reparation of our breaches, no healing of our decays, no salvation but for those who are always progressive in grace; if God should mark all that is done amiss, as the Psalmist spoke, ‘O Lord who should stand?’ Nay, if we had not recoveries every day, we should go off with a perpetual backsliding. But then, as was said, it is required that the right means of it be used” (J. Owen).
What are those right means and the very real difficulties which attend the use of then by those who have openly departed from God?
