The Misery of Impenitent Sinners
For I perceive that thou art in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity. — Acts viii. 23.
Simon, the sorcerer, figures greatly in oriental history as the father of many impious and extravagant heresies. A majority of the sects which go under the general name of Gnostics, are, by the early ecclesiastical writers, traced up to this man. His history, however, except what is here given in the Acts of the Apostles, is very obscure and uncertain. We learn from the narrative of Luke, that Simon in his travels had come to the city of Samaria, where he took up his residence for a time; and gained such an influence over the inhabitants by his magical arts, that from the least to the greatest, they gave heed to him, and believed him to be what he professed, “the great power of God.” But though the strong man armed seemed to have complete possession of this castle; yet there was one stronger than he, who had power to cast him out.
The gospel is truly the great power of God. Wherever it comes it overthrows the kingdom of darkness, and emancipates souls from the tyranny of Satan. As Moses overcame the arts of the magicians of Egypt; so the first ministers of the gospel, armed with the panoply of God, were successful in every contest with the powers of darkness. Their cunning agents and pretended miracles could not bear the light of the everlasting gospel; and all their miracles were found to be only” lying wonders.’’ The gospel was first preached at Samaria by Philip the evangelist, who had at first been a deacon. His preaching being attended with the power of God, produced a wonderful effect on the inhabitants of this city, for both men and women believed the divine testimony delivered by Philip. Simon had no power to prevent the people from turning to the Lord, and submitting to Christian baptism as a sign of their discipleship to Christ; wherefore, artfully and hypocritically, the sorcerer himself professed faith in Christ, and was also baptized; hoping by this means, no doubt, to retain the influence which he had acquired over the minds of the people.
When the apostles, at Jerusalem, heard of the great success of the gospel at Samaria, they deputed two of their number to visit the place; particularly for the purpose of communicating the miraculous gifts of the Holy Ghost, which were at that time bestowed on the churches; but which were only given by the laying on of the hands of the apostles When Simon saw that through the laying on ot the hands of the apostles, the miraculous gifts of the Hoi j Ghost were given, he thought within himself, what he might accomplish, if possessed of such a power as that exercised by Peter and John. And his covetous heart judging of others by himself, inspired him with the audacity to make an offer of money to the apostles, “Saying, give me also this power, that, on whomsoever I lay hands, he may receive the Holy Ghost.” Peter indignantly said unto him, “Thy money perish with thee, because thou hast thought the gift of God may be purchased with money. Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter; for thine heart is not right in the sight of God. Repent, therefore, of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if perhaps the thought of thy heart may be forgiven thee; for I perceive thou art in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity.”
We may learn from the facts here recorded, that men may make a fair profession of faith and be regularly received into the church by baptism, and yet be destitute of a spark of true piety. As far as appears, the sincerity of Simon was not suspected by his fellow-professors, nor by the apostles, until his wickedness was made manifest by his impious proposal.
Churches and church-officers are not to be censured for receiving into the communion such as make a fair profession; and even if they suspect their sincerity, they have no right to exclude them, until by some overt act or speech they clearly discover that their hearts are not right in the sight of God. The power of searching the heart belongs not to men — no, not even to apostles; but is the prerogative of God.
The language of the apostle Peter, in our text, is very strongly expressive of the condition of an unconverted man. For, though some unregenerate men are further from the kingdom of heaven than others, and their condition much more hopeless; yet what is here said of Simon the sorcerer is true of every impenitent sinner in the world. He is in the M gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity.” The two prominent ideas of the text are, bondage and misery, bondage of the worst kind — of iniquity; and misery expressed by the “gall of bitterness.”
What I propose in the sequel of this discourse is, to show the misery of the state of the unconverted. It would be important, if we had time, first to lay down the marks by which an unregenerate state may be ascertained; but it will be inexpedient, at present, to enter further on that subject, than to observe, that where persons are conscious that they are living habitually in the practice of known sin, or in the neglect of acknowledged duty, the conclusion is undoubted, that the heart has never been renewed.
Again, so great a change as that signified by conversion, or being “born again,” cannot take place without the person being conscious of it. It is not meant, that every regenerate person knows certainly that he is renewed; but that every one who has experienced this change must be conscious of new views and new feelings in regard to many things. Every true convert has had his eyes opened to see the exceeding odiousness of sin, and has sincerely repented that he has ever been guilty of that abominable thing which God hates. He has also been convinced of the insufficiency of his own righteousness to justify him, and of the inefficacy of his own efforts to deliver him from the bondage of iniquity, in which he finds himself involved. Every sincere convert has been led to justify God, and to condemn himself by accepting the punishment of his sins as just; and has been led to view Christ as a sufficient, a suitable, and the only Saviour; and has been induced to commit his soul into his hands, by a willing submission and an unreserved surrender of all his faculties to his service.
Now, there are multitudes who are conscious that they never experienced any such change; and are, therefore, still in the state of nature. Others have been the subject of transient religious impressions; but they cannot but know that no radical and permanent change has been wrought upon them. Let no man deceive himself with the deceptive idea, that this change may have been experienced without his being conscious of its effects; and, especially, let no impenitent sinner fall into the soul-destroying delusion that no such change is necessary to salvation; or that it was effected for him in his baptism in infancy. It can be the interest of no one to be deceived in a matter of such momentous interest. Whatever present ease such a deception may afford for a few days, the awful truth must be realized, sooner or later; and if the truth should not be known until it is too late to seek a remedy, the recollection of having foolishly yielded to such a delusion, will enhance the misery of the soul through eternity.
1. The first thing which shows the misery of an unconverted sinner is, that he lies under a sentence of condemnation from the holy law of God. The curse which he has incurred is proportionate to the number and heinousness of his sins. “Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written in the book of the law to do them.” “He that believeth not is condemned already, and the wrath of God abides upon him.” “He that believeth not shall be damned.”
To be condemned to death by a human tribunal is a state deeply deprecated and earnestly shunned by most men; but what is the sentence of a human law compared with the law of God? What is the sentence of a fallible man upon ourselves, compared with the sentence of the Almighty Judge? What is the transient pang of temporal death, compared with the never-ending agonies of the second death? Remember, O man, that you live daily under a sentence of condemnation, which, if you understood and felt its weight, would destroy all your cheerfulness, and incapacitate you for all your worldly pursuits and pleasures. This bond of the law is one from which you can never extricate yourself. And no creature in heaven or earth can redeem you from this miserable thraldom. Consider, also, that your guilt is accumulating every day. While none of the old scores are wiped out, oy your daily sins you are “treasuring up wrath against the day of wrath, and revelation of the righteous judgment of God.”
2. While the impenitent man lives in sin, he is miserable. The soul cannot be satisfied with earthly objects — and often great disappointment is experienced by most in regard to the objects on which they place their affections. Their schemes of acquiring wealth utterly fail; or riches, when acquired, make to themselves wings and fly away, as an eagle to heaven. But alas! the great mass of mankind spend all their lives in wretchedness. Vice breeds misery, among the rich and the poor. “The way of transgressors is hard.” Crimes committed under the influence of passion, or in thoughtless levity, are bitter in recollection. Remorse, in the time of adversity, is armed with a scorpion sting. Old age to an impenitent sinner is a dreary, desolate period. But a majority of transgressors never arrive at this age. They do not live out half their days. Excesses of every kind undermine the stoutest constitutions; and when avarice or ambition is the governing passion, care and anxiety exhaust the spirits, and wear out the life. Many, also, fear keeps in misery. The dread of death and judgment are thoughts which coming across their minds disturb their gaiety, even in the midst of feasting, like the hand-writing on the wall to Belshazzar. “There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.”
3. Though it is true that the unconverted are far from being happy in this world; yet statements of the truth on this subject commonly produce very little effect on their minds; for they still labour under the delusion that happiness is attainable in earthly pursuits, or in the possession of earthly objects. And many, by running a continual round of exciting amusements, try to think that they are living a life of pleasure; while all thoughts of death and eternity are banished from their minds. Others are so completely occupied with the business of the wrorld, that they have no time for serious reflection; and the thought of future judgment is seldom permitted to obtain an hour’s consideration. Though this course must soon have an end, and disease or death interrupt their pursuits; yet others follow on in the same track, with as much ardour and with as sanguine hopes, as if all who had gone before them had been successful.
Instead, therefore, of endeavouring to convince the impenitent that they are miserable,, I will direct their attention to the future; and especially to the future world. No man can be so infatuated as to expect to escape death. Men may turn away their thoughts from the hated monster; but its reality they cannot doubt. The evidences of man’s mortality are clear as the sun light. And every man knows that every passing day brings him nearer to this dreaded event; and no power can retard the rapid speed with which he hastens to eternity. Death, too, is commonly attended with many appalling circumstances. The worldling is snatched away often in the midst of his uncompleted schemes. He must leave all his gains, as well as his prospects, behind; for, “as we brought nothing into the world with us, it is certain we can carry nothing out.” The fruits of all his anxious toil are taken away in a moment. What folly and vanity to set the heart on that which must so soon be relinquished for ever! Sickness and bodih pain usually accompany men’s departure out of life. The struggle with the last enemy is sometimes long, and, in many cases, the agony great. When the strong man is bowed down with mortal disease, he makes a mighty resistance, but all in vain. The unrelenting foe pursues him through every lane of life, until his conquest is complete. It is wonderful, that living men who have witnessed the last struggles and agonies of the dying, can ever be at rest, or enjoy one moment’s ease, until they are prepared for this awful scene. See the sick man on his dying bed, how he writhes in excruciating anguish. See his restless, despairing looks turned every way for relief, but in vain. The physician has exhausted the resources of his art, and has given over the patient. Friend, wife, children, brothers and sisters weep around him; and the parting with these adds to the poignancy of his anguish, and their very tears increase his misery. Wretched man! he has made no preparation for his appearance before the judgment-seat, where all his sins will be sure to meet him. Can nothing be done for his salvation in these last moments? We would not limit the grace or power of God; but surely, the opportunity of accomplishing so great a work in so short a time, and under such adverse circumstances, is small indeed. And often, when the religious teacher is permitted to see him, he finds that it is too late to do any thing effectual. If the dying person has imbibed dangerous errors, there is no time to have them removed by argument. If he is ignorant of the truths of religion, he is in no condition to attend to the lessons of instruction; if hardened in iniquity, sickness and pain and fear have no tendency to soften the heart. And often his reason is clouded or deranged* so that he is physically incapable of receiving any benefit from instruction. In many cases too, the misguided friends and attendants use every art to keep the dying from hearing any thing about religion, lest the awful subject should distress or injure them. What can the minister of God do for such a miserable man at the last hour? Alas! in most cases, he can do nothing with any hope of saving benefit.
It is an unpleasant, as well as an ungrateful duty, to attempt to lift the curtain, and to follow he dying sinner into his future abode; but, however painful, the minister of God, who has the care of souls, and who is commissioned to declare “the whole counsel of God,” must not hesitate to present the truth in its solemn reality. The office of the minister is like that of the skilful surgeon, who, when he perceives that unless the gangrened limb be removed, the patient must die, does not hesitate to amputate the diseased member, however painful to the feelings of the person; so, the faithful minister must not consult the taste or feelings of his hearers in administering to them; but must bring forth to their view, and solemnly inculcate on their conscience, those truths needful to be known, however unpleasant to their present feelings. It is better to suffer the pains of compunction now, than to endure the pains of hell for ever. It is necessary to warn impenitent persons of their imminent danger of destruction. They are walking securely upon the very brink of ruin, unaware of their danger. How would we tremble if we saw a blind man approaching the verge of a frightful precipice, without being aware of his danger! And why are we not more affected than we are, with the dangerous condition of unconverted men and women; yea, of the members of our own families; it may be our beloved children; or our brothers or sisters, who, we have reason to fear, are yet out of Christ! This sinful indifference is owing principally to our want of a lively faith in the realities of the invisible world. If the awful truths which the Bible reveals, respecting the future, endless misery of all who die in their sins, without being regenerated and reconciled to God, were firmly believed, we should never cease to entreat sinners to repent, and to beseech the Almighty to awaken them to a sense of their danger. If we could only have a view of the misery of multitudes, who neglected the great salvation, until the day of grace was gone by — could we see their anguish, and hear their groans, we would not be deterred from faithfully warning such as are still within the reach of mercy. Suffer, then, I beseech you, the word of exhortation and warning: “The wicked is driven away in his wickedness.” In a moment he is separated from all on which he had set his affections. His wealth, heaped up with so much toil, and often at the expense of a good conscience, he must leave behind him, for he can carry nothing to the grave but his coffin and winding-sheet. He is obliged to bid farewell to all his beloved relatives — torn away, it may be, from the wife of his bosom, and from the children, the offspring of his body. He shuts his eyes, for ever, on all terrestrial things, and launches into an unknown world. And when his spirit has escaped from its clay tenement, what is its condition? Are there any kind friends to meet it on its entrance into eternity? Does the immortal soul find any peaceful retreat — any place of rest after the toil of life? Will such a soul be convoyed by guardian angels to Abraham’s bosom? Alas! no; a title to heaven was not sought and secured in the season of mercy; and now the door of mercy is for ever shut. If the glory of heaven is seen, it is at an unapproachable distance. If others, and neighbours, and acquaintances are seen entering those blessed mansions; yet there is no place there for the impenitent. If they should now approach the gates of the celestial city, and beg most importunately for admittance, it will avail nothing. The terrible response to all their petitions will be, “Depart from me, ye workers of iniquity.” The assurance that heaven and happiness are for ever lost, will fill the soul with unspeakable anguish. Fell
despair, with all its horrid blackness of darkness, from that moment so envelopes the miserable, lost soul, that not a ray of hope is ever permitted to reach it. Yes, the full realization of the eternal loss of the soul is a thing of which we may now talk, but of which all our conceptions are utterly inadequate. But this is not all. The misery of hell is not that of mere loss; there is positive torment to be endured. The lost sinner is cast into the abyss of darkness and fire, “where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched” — “Where there is weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.” Who can describe or imagine the horrors of that dismal prison of despair? Who can conceive of the agonies of a soul tormented with remorse and despair, and the pressure of Almighty wrath? Who can dwell with everlasting burnings? One hour of this misery will be an overbalance of all the pleasures of sin. And if an hour of such misery be so intolerable, what will it be for a year? But why speak of hours and years?
Time is ended — eternity has commenced its unchanging, unending duration! Immortality, originally the dignity of man, is now his curse. Conscience, his noblest faculty, is now his chief tormentor. Memory, which brings up the vivid recollection of his sins, is an unceasing source of bitter remorse. Foresight of the future is accompanied with black despair. Passion rages, but all gratification is excluded. Our feelings revolt against the idea of the eternity of such sufferings; but our feelings are no proper judges of what divine justice demands. A child, on seeing a murderer suspended on the gallows, is affected in a similar manner; and if it were in its power would release the culprit. The evil of sin, which is rebellion against a Being of infinite perfection, is not fully understood by us here. It is certainly right to pursue transgression with as much punishment as it deserves; and we may rest assured that a righteous God will not inflict a pang more than is perfectly just. It would, surely, have been infinitely better for those, who shall be doomed to the everlasting punishment of hell, never to have been born. But they will have nobody to blame for their ruin but themselves. The devil and wicked companions may have tempted them, but they could not force them to sin. Their departure from God and rebellion against his government were entirely voluntary, and their rejection of the gospel, which will be reckoned their most heinous transgression, was owing to their love of sin and enmity to God.
Surely every one who stands exposed to such direful torments, and that to all eternity, must be in the “gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity.’’ And their misery is not lessened by their insensibility. In Bedlam you may see a man, who, in his insanity, fancies that he is a king, and that his rags are royal robes, and his straw-bed a gorgeous throne, but does any one envy his imaginary glory? Can any one think his condition the better on account of this strange hallucination? While the house is burning over his head, the owner may be fast asleep in his bed, but the sounder his sleep the greater the danger. He may awake when all opportunity of escape is cut off. Many of the wicked die without any fearful apprehension; their minds are blinded by unbelief, and stupefied by long custom in iniquity. Their consciences are seared; and they have drunk in the opiate of infidelity or universalism; and either think that there is no hereafter, or if there is, that all will be happv in the future world. Can such a delusion be considered any mitigation of the misery, when the moment after death, the irresistible light of eternity shines in upon them with insufferable brightness?
O what a pang of disappointment! What a feeling of intense anguish, when hell is found to be a dreadful reality; when the soul awakes to a full conception of its utterly undone and miserable condition! And what a prospect has the lost soul before it? The day of judgment will indeed make a change; but not for the better. On that day the shame and consternation of the sinner will be great beyond description. His evil doing will be held up to the view of the assembled universe; and all his most secret and abominable sins will be exhibited in the light of that awful day. When the soul is again associated with the risen body, he will endure in both soul and body, agonies and torments which no form of words can fully express. Then will all the unbelieving be congregated in one immense mass, and will all receive according to their deeds. They will be arraigned and condemned out of the books which shall be opened. And at the close of the great assize, the august Judge will pronounce the sentence of eternal banishment upon the whole multitude: “Depart, accursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.” And no sooner is the sentence pronounced, than execution follows. The vast multitude begin to move off — not to find a secure retreat — not to remain upon earth; but they go away into everlasting punishment. No wonder that the voice of mourning and wailing is heard — no wonder if the shriek of agony pierces the air. It is the voice of despairing millions. It is the commencement of an agonizing cry wThich shall never cease.
My dear hearers, if these things be so, ought we not to ask ourselves the solemn question, Are any of us now exposed to the misery which has been faintly described? Are any of us, in this assembly, in the “gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity?” The question suggests another, Are any of you in an unconverted state? Are you living without God in the world? Are you still in love with sin? Is this world your chosen portion? Have you hitherto deferred your repentance? Have you turned a deaf ear to the call of the gospel, in which God has entreated you to be reconciled? And if you should die to-night, does conscience tell you that you are unprepared for heaven? Think then of your sad condition. There may be but a step between you and death; and if you die in your sins, where Christ is, you never can come. And if not prepared for heaven, hell must be your portion. O, stop and consider. Pause before you take another downward step. It is not yet too late to turn and live; yea, the voice of God to you is, “Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?” “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” Seize the present moment. “To-day, if you will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.” To-morrow it may be too late.