LETTERS TO THE AGED
by Archibald Alexander
LETTER FIVE
Can we do anything to render our death—which cannot be
far off—both safe and comfortable? No doubt, by God's grace, we can do much
to accomplish these desirable ends if we will set about the work in good
earnest. I know that there is a feeling of despondency habitually existing
in the minds of some aged people of serious disposition, which leads them to
conclude that, if they are not now prepared to die, they never will be. And
from all the acquaintance which I have had with professors of religion, I am
constrained to think that, as their near approach to the grave does not
increase their impressions of the importance of eternal realities. In like
manner, old age has no tendency to render the evidences of their union with
Christ more clear and satisfactory. You may frequently inquire of a dozen
such professors in succession, whether they have obtained a comfortable
assurance of the goodness of their spiritual condition, and the probability
is that four out of five, if not nine out of ten, will answer in the
negative, and will express serious doubts whether they were ever the
subjects of regenerating grace. It was not, I believe, always so with those
who cordially received the doctrines of grace and rested their souls upon
them. To say nothing about the joyful confidence and assured hope of the
apostles and primitive Christians, the members of the first reformed
churches seem to have derived from the pure doctrines of the Bible a high
degree of peace and joy. The same was the fact among the pious Puritans of
Old and New England, and the Presbyterians of Scotland in the best and
purest days of the Scottish Church.
The question has often occurred, why does the belief of
these doctrines afford less comfort now, than in former times. It is not my
purpose, at present, to attempt to account for this fact. I adduce it merely
to show that most professors among us are not actually prepared for death.
Even if their state should be one of safety, they cannot view their
approaching end with confidence and comfort. And while their evidences of
genuine piety are so dubious, they of course cannot know that they are in a
safe condition. It is, then, of the utmost importance that all
professors of the above description, and especially the aged, should be
importunately urged "to give diligence to make their calling and election
sure". (2 Pet 1:10)
I am aware that some Christians, who enjoy very
comfortable evidences of being the adopted children of God, are not willing
to profess that they have arrived at full assurance. They suppose that they
who have attained to this high privilege are in a state of uninterrupted
joy, and that no shadow of doubt ever passes over their minds. The truth is,
they do possess a solid assurance, although their frames of mind are not
always equally comfortable, and although the evidence is not so great that
it cannot be increased. I recollect, when very young, to have heard a
judicious minister conversing with an eminently pious old lady, who had
belonged to the church under the care of Samuel Davies, in the county of
Hanover. In answer to some inquiry respecting the comfort which she enjoyed
in the service of her Divine Master, she said, after expressing lively
feelings of faith, penitence and gratitude, "but my dear friend, I have
never yet attained to the faith of assurance; all I can say is, that I have
the faith of reliance". "Well," said the minister, "if you know that you
have the faith of reliance, that is assurance."
The degrees of evidence possessed by different Christians
are various, from the feeblest hope—up to strong confidence. And the
clearness of the evidence to the same person varies exceedingly. But in
general there seems to be in our church a sad falling below par in respect
to this matter. It has, however, often been correctly observed, that we are
not to expect 'dying grace' before the dying hour arrives. God gives
strength as we need it; and when the believer is called to severe trials or
to difficult duties, he commonly receives aid proportioned to the urgency of
his needs, and is surprised to find himself held up by a power not his own.
Thus we have often seen the sincere humble Christian, who, during life, was
subject to bondage through fear of death, triumphing in the dying hour. This
expectation of special aid ought to be encouraged. It is, indeed, a part of
that preparation which we should make; and if we confidently rely on the
great Shepherd to meet us and comfort us while walking through the valley
and shadow of death, He will not disappoint us.
But in dealing with professors troubled with doubts, we
are too apt to proceed on the assumed principle, that notwithstanding their
sad misgivings and fears, they are at bottom sincere Christians, and have
the root of the matter in them; while in regard to many, this may be an
entire mistake, and we are in danger of nourishing in them a fatal delusion.
Here the skill and fidelity of the spiritual watchmen are put to the test;
and while they should not deviate a hair's-breadth from the rule of the
divine Word, it is better that the pious Christian should suffer some
unnecessary pain, than that the false professor should be bolstered up with
delusive hopes.
I must say, therefore, that the true reason why many
professors have no comfortable evidence of their religion—is because they
have no true piety. They have never experienced the new birth; and being
still dead in trespasses and sins, it is no wonder that they cannot find in
themselves what does not exist. I abhor a censorious spirit, which, upon
slight grounds, judges this and that professor to be graceless; but all my
experience and observation lead me to believe that, in our day as well as in
former times, the "foolish virgins" (Matt 25:1-13) constitute a full half of
the visible church.
What I would urge, therefore, on you, my aged friends,
and on myself, is a more serious, impartial, and thorough examination into
the foundation of our hope of heaven, than perhaps we have ever yet made.
Let us go back to the commencement of our religious course, and see whether,
in our present more mature judgment, we can conclude that we were then the
subjects of a saving change. I do not ask you whether you had an increase of
serious feelings, or whether your sympathies were strongly excited and
experienced some change from a state of terror or distress to comfort; for
all these things may be experienced, and have been experienced by
unregenerate people. Let us carefully inquire whether the habitual tenor
of our lives has been such as to satisfy us that a new nature was received.
If we have fallen into sin, have we deeply and sincerely
repented of it? Have we wept bitterly for our sin, like Peter? or have we
mourned in deep sorrow, like David? Not such repentance as some experience,
who, after all their convictions and confessions, return again to the same
course of iniquity. But after all examinations of past experience, the main
point is—what is the present, habitual state of our hearts? Do we now
love God as His character is exhibited in His word? Do we hunger and thirst
after holiness, or a complete conformity to the law of God? Would we be
willing that that law should be relaxed in its demands, to afford us some
indulgence? Do we seek our chief happiness in the favor of God, and in
communion with Him in His Word and ordinances? Is His glory uppermost in our
desires, and do we sincerely wish and determine to do all that we can to
promote the kingdom of the Redeemer? Do we sincerely love the people of God,
of every sect and name, because they bear His image, and are the redeemed
children of God?
Again: what is the ground on which we expect the pardon
of sin and the favor of God? Is it because we are better than many others?
Is it because we have had what we esteem great experiences? Is it on account
of our moral demeanor, or charitable benefactions? Dare we trust in any
measure to our own goodness and righteousness? If we build on any of these,
or on any similar grounds, then are we on a sandy foundation, and all our
towering hopes must fall.
But, methinks, I hear the humble penitent saying, "All
these things I count loss for Christ (Phil 3:7)—I feel that I deserve to
die—I never was more convinced of anything, than that it would have been
perfectly just for God to send me to hell. And now, all my trust and all my
hope, if I know my own heart, is in the Lord Jesus Christ, and in His
perfect righteousness and intercession; and all my confidence of being able
to serve God hereafter, or to persevere for a single day, is in the grace of
the Holy Spirit." The whole evidence of Christian character may be reduced
to two particulars—entire trust in Christ for justification; and a sincere
and universal love of holiness, with a dependence on the Holy Spirit for its
existence, continuance and increase.
If, my friend, you have these evidences now, you need not
perplex yourself by a multitude of scruples. You may dismiss your doubts.
God's Word will never deceive any who rely upon its guidance. You may not
know the day nor even the year, when spiritual life commenced in your soul;
and yet, if you now feel its warm pulsations—if you breathe its genuine
aspirations—if your heart's treasures are in heaven, and if the cause of God
is dearer to you than any other interest—if His people are dearer to you
than any other people—if your most constant and supreme desire is to glorify
God your Redeemer, whether by living or dying—then may you welcome death. He
is no king of terrors to you. You may say, "Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!"
(Rev 22:20)
Perhaps some of you are afraid of the pangs of death. You
have heard of the convulsive struggle, the dying groans, the difficult
breathing, and the ghastly countenance! Well, it must be confessed, the
scene is appalling; but it is soon over, forever! I am of opinion, however,
that often, there is the appearance of dreadful suffering where the patient
is unconscious of any very acute pain; and very frequently, the departure of
the immortal spirit is, at the last, like falling into a gentle sleep. And
not infrequently, while the body is racked with pain, or with what would
produce pain in other circumstances, the soul is so supported and comforted
by the sweet peace of God poured into it, that the disorders and convulsions
of the body are scarcely thought of. And in many instances, God takes His
people away by a sudden stroke; they know nothing about it, until they awake
in heaven. O! what a transition! Or, if it be necessary to let in the light
of glory gradually, God, who knows our constitution, will order all things
well.
But I would advise you to meditate much on death.
Collect, and have in memory, a number of precious promises for the occasion.
Put up many prayers for grace and strength for a dying hour. Beg an interest
in the intercessions of your Christian friends. Keep your minds calm, and
yield not to perturbing cares. Be found at your post when the summons
comes—with your loins girded and lights burning. Settle beforehand all your
worldly affairs.