Let Us Reason Together

Edward Griffin (1770—1837)
 

Isaiah 1:18
"Come now and let us reason together, says the Lord: Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool!"

It is the boast of man that he is a reasonable being, and it is his duty and dignity to act a reasonable part. God addresses himself to that reason, and condescends to expostulate with his rebellious subjects.

Standing with his commission in my hands, I intend to pursue the same course—to commend the service of my Master to the conscience of my hearers, and to justify the ways of God to man.

Come then and let us reason together. My business at present is with impenitent sinners. I would single them out from the crowd, and take them aside, and say in their ear: "I have a message from the Lord to deliver to you. I am sent to reason with you in his name:
about the high concerns of the future world,
about your interests a thousand ages hence,
about the claims which the Sovereign has upon you,
about the long score of uncancelled charges which he has against you."

Let Christians stand by and assist me with their prayers, while I attempt to recall from death this perishing multitude.

My poor hearers, you have often considered an address from the pulpit as a matter of course, and felt no personal interest in it. But it must not be so now. I have a solemn errand from the Lord to do to you one by one. While you are suspended between two eternities, I have one word from the Most High to say to you before your eternal fate is decided. Drop every other care; lend me your whole attention; put your minds into a most solemn frame; and for a few moments feel as though you stood before the bar of God!

Here then you are, the creatures of God, bound to eternity, and destined to be happy or miserable forever! Raise your heads out of this infant state and look abroad on the amazing scenes before you. Here you lie crushed under the mountains of guilt, for which the God that made you has condemned you to eternal woe. Did ever man address an audience under more solemn circumstances? Your case is such as calls for an immediate remedy—a remedy in which you yourselves must be active. What then is to be done? Will you lend me your whole attention?

I have it in charge from God to inform you with the utmost plainness what he would have you to do; to tell you:

that you must instantly drop the weapons of your rebellion and return to him with submission and love—with a sweet and adoring sense of his perfections, of his moral government, of his superintending providence;

that you must renounce every selfish passion, and expand the arms of a strong benevolence to embrace the human family, friends and foes;

that you must fall at his feet with a broken heart for all your sins, without any further attempts to justify or extenuate them, clearing your Maker and taking all the shame and blame to yourselves, owning the justice of your condemnation, approving the holy strictness of his law, and grieving exceedingly that you should have sinned against so much goodness, against a government so righteous, a law so sublimely pure and glorious;

that under a conviction how right it is for you to suffer, and how wrong it would be for you to be pardoned for anything that you can do, you must feel that you are utterly undone and stand in perishing need of a Savior;

that you must heartily approve of the Savior which God has provided and the way of salvation by him, and firmly believe in the divine sincerity in this whole arrangement, and choose that Redeemer for your own, and rest your souls upon him, and go to God through him, with earnest cries for mercy, with humble boldness, growing up into filial confidence, that can cry, "Abba Father!"—that can walk about the palace of God like a child at home, and admire all his works, and cheerfully repose upon his paternal love, his superintending care, his universal providence, his everlasting covenant, and cry, with a deliberate and lasting assurance, "My Lord and my God!"

that you must enter on a life of steady devotion, a life of zeal in the service of God and his Church, a life of universal obedience, shown in the exercise of all the Christian graces and in the practice of all the Christian virtues;

that you must die to this vain world and feel and act as citizens of another country, "looking for that blessed hope and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ."

This is the precise service—the glorious and blessed course upon which I am sent to invite you to enter.

Having delivered this part of my message, I have it furthermore in charge not to leave you until I have set before you, in such terms as the language of mortals will furnish, some of the reasons which urge you to an immediate compliance:

The great God has commanded it. This you know. His whole word is one system of precepts, laying upon you the different parts of this service with the whole strength of his authority.

The God who made you has commanded it.

The God in whom you live and move and have your being has commanded it.

The God who will be your Judge at the last day has commanded it.

The God before whose majesty and glory prostrate angels veil their faces, has commanded it.

Will you withstand all this authority?

Shall not the positive command of the eternal God bind you?

Is he not your Sovereign?

Will you say that this duty belongs to the Church?

Can you escape out of his hands?

And is not this a most reasonable service, worthy of God to require, and the very least that it would befit a God of infinite holiness to accept?

Is not universal love such a service as God should require of his rational offspring?

Will you not aspire to the dignity of universal benevolence?

Will you not love a God of infinite wisdom and goodness, whose only aim in all his works is to raise the universe to the highest pitch of prosperity—a prosperity resting, as the highest prosperity must, upon holy order—the universal exercise of justice and love?

Will you not love a government whose only care is to protect this order, and thus promote the happiness of the whole intelligent family?

How magnificent is this Divine law. What majesty and glory surround this sublime and holy scepter. It fills all Heaven with admiration and transport. And cannot you think it a happiness to be under the government of such a God? Will you deem it a hardship to obey such a law? to submit to such a providence? When you have broken in upon the order of the universe by violating this benevolent system of rules, will you think it a hardship to be called upon to repent? Shall you find it difficult to weep and break your hearts? And since the Son of God has descended from Heaven to sanction the principles of this government, to condemn sin, to pluck you from destruction by the sacrifice of himself, and to bear away the honors of your salvation—will you account it a hardship to accept and honor him? All that God requires is reasonable and for your good. In no part of his administration has he given you the slightest cause for complaint. On the contrary, he has followed you with a succession of unmerited mercies. On his arm have you all along been supported, and by his hand have you always been fed. He is your Creator, Proprietor, and Master. He made you what you are and gave you all your talents, and in a world which he had furnished for your use he placed you, with a solemn command to use these talents for him. Is it not reasonable:
that you should be his servants?
that you should act in all things with a reference to his will?
that whether you eat or drink or whatever you do you should do all to his glory?

Is not this what a rational being ought to render? Are not these demands reasonably made on such creatures as you?

But you seek to excuse yourselves with the plea that you are not able. And are you thus excused? What then will you say of him who would not excuse you, but peremptorily commanded you to perform this service, and threatened you with eternal punishment if you refused? Do you mean solemnly to impeach him in the presence of all worlds? In proportion as you take away a tittle of your obligation and guilt, you support a dreadful impeachment against your Maker. As hard as your heart is, he still commands you to love and serve him, and declares that he will punish you forever if you refuse, and actually sends sinners to Hell for no other reason. And is the service an impossibility? There is no difficulty in the way but that which constitutes the essence of all your guilt—a heart opposed to God. If this rebellious heart may not be forbidden and punished, there is an end to all moral government—there is an end to all distinction between sin and holiness—and men are no more moral agents than the brutes and the stocks. If you shrink from this conclusion, you must go back and admit that wherever a rational soul is found that knows its Maker's will, there is one who is bound to love and serve God, whether the Spirit sanctifies him or not.

But if the service of God is reasonable, and reasonably required of such creatures as you—then why do you withhold it? If it is reasonable in God to require it—then it is unreasonable in you to refuse it. Why then do you act so unreasonable a part? You ought not to do it. You ought to give him your heart at once. You have no manner of excuse for withholding it a moment.

But you plead for some DELAY. "Go your way for this time; when I have a convenient season I will call for you." This is the very thing I feared. Men cannot resolve to die without religion, and strongly attached to other things, they cannot consent to enter upon it at once. This is the rock around which the bones of ship-wrecked millions are whitening! More probably have gone down to death from a Gospel land in this way than by any other stratagem of Satan. The arch-deceiver knows that if he should come out at once and boldly tell men never to become religious, his plot would be discovered and defeated. He knows that "in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird." He takes a surer course. He tells them there is time enough yet. He urges them to put off until tomorrow. He keeps the phantom of a more convenient season before them, receding as they approach, and determines that they shall never overtake it. They do not see the artifice, and follow on as an ox to the slaughter, amusing themselves with the hope of a more convenient season, until they plunge into eternal damnation! Could you approach the edge of the lake of fire and collect the history of the damned from their own lips, you would probably find that most of those who went down from a Gospel land were decoyed to ruin in this very way. In this same net, your own feet are taken. Break that fatal snare or you yourselves are lost forever!

Consider too the wickedness and danger of this delay! All this time you are defrauding your Maker of the service which you owe him. All this time you are living in constant rebellion against God. If ever you are bound to serve him, you are bound to serve him now. If ever he is worthy of love, he is worthy now. If you would shudder at the thought of remaining his enemies to eternity—then why continue his enemies for a day? In this you are going directly in the face of his solemn, earnest commands and entreaties. "Today if you will hear his voice harden not your hearts."

Let me urge the danger too. All this time you are walking over pit of Hell—and should you suddenly fall, where are you then? By such a tenure you would not consent to hold your temporal estate if in your power to obtain a better. If all your property was thus exposed you would not sleep. You would compass sea and land to make your title sure. How is it then, that in the very case which calls loudest for your concern, there you are the most secure?

And consider, I beg you, that your hazard is daily increasing! Every hour lessens the chance of your salvation.

Your hearts are growing harder;
your enemies are entrenching themselves there;
evil habits are becoming confirmed;
the wall of separation between you and God is growing stronger and higher;
the work of repentance is growing more and more difficult;
the Spirit is departing,
time is shortening, and
death and Hell are fast approaching!

If then you cannot now be persuaded—then what reason have you to hope that you ever will? If you find it difficult to turn now—then it will be more difficult at every future day. You hope for God's assistance hereafter; but what right have you to hope for that while you are rejecting the assistance which he now offers? He has never authorized that hope. He has not spoken of a tomorrow. On the contrary he has warned you that his Spirit shall not always strive with man. And his providence repeats this warning. So far as we can judge, few are sanctified after the middle of life, and by far the greater part under the age of twenty. With these dreadful prospects before you and these accumulating dangers around you, what infatuation to hope for a more convenient season and to fold up your arms as though all was well!

All this time you are depriving yourselves of the present joys of religion:
that tranquility among the passions,
that peace of conscience,
that delightful communion with God,
that transporting sense of pardon,
that beatific anticipation of future glory, which religion affords.

The tempter has had the effrontery to tell you that religion would spoil your peace. And why did he not tell you that Heaven was a dungeon? But ask those who have tried her power, and they, with one voice will testify, that "her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace."

And for what do you lose all these joys and sacrifice your souls?

For husks that cannot satisfy;
for idols full of tormenting stings;
for a world of shadows;
for riches which suffer not their possessors to sleep;
for objects bearing about this label written with the finger of God, "Vanity and vexation of spirit!" "The way of transgressors is hard," "and the way of peace have they not known."

And even were it otherwise—were every anguish extracted from their hearts—yet what is there in all these objects worthy to engross the supreme desires of an immortal mind?

What are these compared to God and Christ and Heaven?

What are these compared to the interests of that soul which is destined to expand forever in the regions of light and life, or to sink eternally under the anguish of the never dying worm?

O eternity! eternity! Your solemnities turn all the promises of time to a jest. Count the sands of the sea; multiply them by the leaves of the forest, and the spires upon the mountains, and the stars in Heaven—and when so many ages have rolled away, your happiness or your misery will be but just begun! What is this world—"all its pomp, all its pleasures, and all its nonsense?" If I live seventy years in dire poverty—what is that to me if I may but obtain to the blessedness of everlasting ages. If I spend my seventy years begirt with imperial purple and rolling in the pleasures of a royal court—what is that to me if after all I must be imprisoned in Hell as long as the throne of God endures! My dear hearers, are you immortal? Are you to spend an eternity in Heaven or Hell?

Are you employing your time striving for the vanities of this world? Will you never awake? Sleep on then, and take your rest. But know that the mists of death will soon gather around you. You will be laid upon a dying bed. Time is gone, and eternity has come. I see you lying there without a friend to help you in Heaven or earth. I see you cast back your eyes on misspent opportunities, on murdered privileges, on wasted time. You remember the calls to repent which you once rejected. I hear you cry, "I had a soul but prized it not, and now my soul is lost! Ten thousand worlds for one more year!"

I look a little further, and I see the disturbances of the troubled sky. The sign of the Son of Man appears in Heaven. The last trumpet sounds. That body which had been committed to the grave, is organized afresh. It opens its eyes on the strange commotions of a dissolving world. It is forced to ascend. The judgment seat is set in the clouds of Heaven and the books are opened. I hear you cry to rocks and to mountains to cover you; but rocks and mountains are sunk in the general ruin. The books are opened, and on a black page are spread out all the sins of your life. That page is held up before a frowning universe. The judgment ended, the Judge prepares to speak. God of mercy save me from that hour! Eternal justice lowers upon his solemn brow. His right hand grasps ten thousand thunders. With a look before which Heaven and earth flee away, he turns fully upon you. "Depart! You who are cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels!"

But I return, and, blessed be God, I still find myself on praying ground and my dear hearers about me. This is not the Judgment Day. But, my beloved friends, I expect soon to meet you at that bar and give an account of my labors among you today. It is in full view of that solemn scene that I am speaking thus to you. I would not have you perish; but if you perish, I would clear my garments of your blood.

But you must not perish. The calls of mercy are still heard. I have returned to my text and found it written, "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." These heavenly words, issuing from the eternal throne, still mingle their sounds about your ears. There is yet hope! You need not perish forever. The door of mercy is not yet closed! That Savior whom you just now saw on the judgment seat—once died on Calvary! Though you have so long trifled with his blood, though you have so long abused sermons, though you have ten thousand times been found in arms against the Sovereign of the world, yet in that blood, all your stains may be washed out—all your treasons may yet be purged. Only do not now seal your damnation by longer rejecting his mercy. Fall down now at his feet. Go not from this house until you have bathed them with your tears and wiped them with the hairs of your head.

This is a solemn moment! Heaven, earth, and Hell are now opened before you. From the throne of God which is placed in the midst, the invitation is still proceeding. Not man, but God himself is now speaking to you. If you turn away it will be like those who turned away when their feet touched the borders of the promised land. They could not be forgiven, but must perish in the wilderness. Take care what you do, for you are now before the all-glorious Judge. Drop the weapons from your bloody hands! With those trembling arms, clasp his feet; resolving never to loosen your hold—that if he treads you down you will sink, but that you will never leave the spot until one look of peace assures you that your sins are forgiven.

O could we see you thus! Are you afraid to go? Why, it is the same Being that left the realms of glory to die for sinners! Go with greater confidence than you ever went to an earthly parent. Go with all your sins upon you. It is not to judge that he has now come. He has come to heal the broken-hearted and to preach deliverance to the captives. The love of Jesus looks out of his eye. His hands, bearing still the prints of the nails, are extended to receive you. Go, and give pleasure to that heart which bled on the point of the spear. Go and find your Heaven in the sweetness of that embrace. Go! You see him there! Go!