John Newton's Letters
Without Me you can do nothing
February 23, 1775
Dear sir,
I assent to our Lord's declaration, "Without Me you can do nothing;" not
only upon the authority of the Speaker--but from the same irresistible and
experimental evidence, as if he had told me, that I cannot make the sun to
shine, or change the course of the seasons. Though my pen and my tongue
sometimes move freely--yet the total incapacity and stagnation of thought I
labor under at other times, convinces me, that in myself I have not
sufficiency to think a good thought! And I believe the case would be the
same, if that little measure of knowledge and abilities, which I am too
prone to look upon as my own, were a thousand times greater than it is.
For every new service, I stand in need of a new supply,
and can bring forth nothing of my supposed store into actual exercise--but
by his immediate assistance. His gracious influence is that, to those who
are best furnished with gifts, which the water is to the mill, or the wind
to the ship, without which the whole apparatus is motionless and useless.
I apprehend that we lose much of the comfort which might
arise from a sense of our continual dependence upon him, and, of course,
fall short of acknowledging as we ought what we receive from him--by
mistaking the manner of his operation. Perhaps we take it too much for
granted, that communications from himself must bear some kind of sensible
impression that they are his, and therefore are ready to give our own
industry or ingenuity, the credit for those performances
in which we can perceive no such divine impression. Yet it is very possible
that we may be under his influence, when we are least aware! And though what
we say, or write, or do, may seem no way extraordinary; yet that we should
be led to such a particular turn of thought at one time rather than at
another, has, in my own concerns, often appeared to me remarkable, from the
circumstances which have attended, or the consequences which
have followed.
How often, in the choice of a text, or in the course of a
sermon, or in a letter to a friend, have I been led to speak a word in
season--and what I have expressed at large, and in general--has been so
exactly suited to some case which I was utterly unacquainted with--that I
could hardly have hit it so well, had I been previously informed of it. Some
instances of this kind have been so striking, as hardly to admit a doubt of
divine agency. And, indeed, if believers in Jesus, however unworthy
in themselves, are the temples of the Holy Spirit; if the Lord lives,
dwells, and walks in them; if he is their life and their light; if he has
promised to guide them with his eye, and to work in them to will and to do
of his own good pleasure; methinks what I have mentioned, and more, may be
reasonably expected.
That line in the hymn, "Help I every moment need,"
is not a hyperbolical expression--but strictly and literally true, not only
in great emergencies--but in our smoother hours, and most familiar paths.
This gracious assistance is afforded in a way imperceptible to
ourselves, to hide pride from us, and to prevent us from being indolent and
careless with respect to the use of appointed means. And it would be
likewise more abundantly, and perhaps more sensibly afforded, were our
spirits more simple in waiting upon the Lord. But, alas! a divided heart, an
undue attachment to some temporal object, sadly deadens our spirits (I speak
for myself), and grieves the Lord's Spirit; so that we walk in darkness and
at a distance, and, though called to great privileges, live far below them!
But methinks the thought of him who is always near, and
upon whom we do and must incessantly depend, should suggest a
powerful motive for the closest attention to his revealed will, and the most
punctual compliance with it. For so far as the Lord withdraws from us--we
become as blind men; and with the clearest light, and upon the plainest
ground, we are liable, or rather sure, to stumble at every step.
Though there is a principle of consciousness, and a
determination of the will, sufficient to denominate our thoughts and
performances our own; yet I believe mankind in general are more under
an invisible agency than they apprehend. The Lord, immediately from
himself, and perhaps by the ministry of his holy angels--guides, prompts,
restrains, or warns his people. So there undoubtedly is what I may call a
black inspiration--the influence of the evil spirits, who work in the
hearts of the disobedient, and not only excite their wills--but assist their
faculties, and qualify as well as incline them to be more assiduously
wicked, and more extensively mischievous, than they could be of themselves.
I consider Voltaire, for instance, and many writers of the same stamp, to be
little more than secretaries and amanuenses of the evil one--who has
unspeakably more wit and adroitness in promoting infidelity and immorality,
than they of themselves can justly pretend to. They have, for a while, the
credit (if I may so call it) of the fund from whence they draw; but the
world little imagines who is the real and original author of that philosophy
and poetry, of those fine turns and sprightly inventions, which are so
generally admired. Perhaps many, now applauded for their genius, would have
been comparatively dolts, had they not been engaged in a cause which
Satan has so much interest in supporting.
But, to return to the more pleasing subject. How great
and honorable is the privilege of a true believer! That he has neither
wisdom nor strength in himself--is no disadvantage; for he is connected with
Infinite Wisdom and Almighty Power! Though weak as a worm, his arms are
strengthened by the almighty God--and all things become possible, yes easy
to him--which occur within the compass of his proper duty and calling. The
Lord, whom he serves, engages to proportion his strength to his day, whether
it be a day of service or of suffering. And though he is
fallible and short-sighted, exceeding liable to mistake and error; yet,
while he retains a sense that he is so, and with the simplicity of a child
asks counsel and direction of the Lord--he seldom takes a wrong step, at
least not in matters of consequence. And even his sins are overruled for
good. If he forgets his true state, and thinks himself to be something, he
presently finds he is indeed nothing. But if he is content to be nothing,
and to have nothing--he is sure to find a seasonable and abundant
communication of all that he needs. Thus he lives, like Israel in the
wilderness, upon mere divine bounty; but, then, it is a bounty unchangeable,
unwearied, inexhaustible, and all-sufficient.
Moses, when speaking of the methods the Lord took to
humble Israel, mentions his feeding them with manna, as one method. The
manna would not keep; they could not hoard it up, and were therefore in a
state of absolute dependence from day to day. This appointment was well
suited to humble them.
Thus it is with us in spiritual matters. We would perhaps
prefer to hoard up a stock of grace and sufficiency at once--such an
inherent portion of wisdom and power, as we might depend upon, at least for
common occasions, without being constrained, by a sense of indigence--to
have continual recourse to the Lord for everything we need. But His way is
best. His own glory is most displayed--and our safety best secured, by
keeping us quite poor and empty in ourselves, and supplying us from one
minute to another, according to our need--out of His inexhaustible
storehouse of grace.
This, if anything, will prevent boasting, and keep a
sense of gratitude awake in our hearts. This is well adapted to quicken us
to prayer, and furnishes us with a thousand occasions for praise, which
would otherwise escape our notice.
But who or what are we, that the Most High God should
thus notice us; should visit us every morning, and water us every moment! It
is an astonishing thought, that God should thus dwell with men! that he,
before whom the mightiest earthly potentates are less than nothing and
vanity--should thus stoop and accommodate himself to the situation, needs,
and capacities of the weakest, lowest, and poorest of his children! But so
it has pleased him. He sees not as man sees!