Repentance

“Repentance toward God, and faith toward the Lord Jesus Christ” Acts 20:21.

IDO not know a more direct statement than that. I do not know a statement that seems to me to be plainer for those of you who are away from Christ; therefore, I sound it out unto you again, “Repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.” I have been perfectly amazed to see how little is said about repentance. How infrequently those of us who are supposed to be teachers and preachers mention it, how few sermons are printed about it. I suppose I have the library of the average minister, and yet when I run over almost every book of sermons I possess I find only five or six sermons on repentance. Two of these were preached by Moody, two by Charles G. Finney, two by our great Jonathan Edwards. Is it not a singular thing that we should say so little about repentance, because as I have been turning over the pages of the New Testa-, ment I find that repentance is essential to forgiveness, ’ that repentance is essential to the possession of peace, and that repentance is essential to a final entrance into the city of God.

Turning to the pages of the New Testament I find ver and over again the word repentance emphasized. Repentance and faith. Repentance, whereby we for-

ake sin. Faith, whereby we lay hold upon God’s promises, and believe Jesus Christ to be the Saviour from sin. Without repentance there could be no faith, and without faith there could be no possession of real spiritual life. Therefore the emphasis is necessary. “Repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Paul was a marvelous preacher — marvelous in more ways than one. He was a tireless preacher. He says that at all seasons he did not hesitate to declare unto them the whole counsel of God. He says also that he kept back nothing from them. So, evidently he was a plain and fearless preacher. I have an idea that that sort of preacher is really popular to-day. One of the strong business men in the city of New York, who was not a Christian, told me that’ he liked his minister; this minister has the reputatic” of saying very sharp, plain things from the pulpit, bi he added, “I will tell you why. I like him becau he is not afraid to tell me where I am wrong.”

Paul was evidently that sort of preacher. He was a personal preacher. He said, “I went from house to house beseeching you.” I think he is a marvelous inspiration. I should like to have seen him when he stood upon Mars Hill and preached that matchless sermon of his. I should like to have been near him when he was dictating the epistle to the Romans, sending it out to the utmost bounds of the empire as logic set on fire. But I think I should like to have seen him in some of the homes. I should like to have seen him in the midst of a family circle talking about Jesus.

Coming home from the burial of his wife and the mother of his children an old farmer in our western country wanting to impress his children with the need of being Christians sat by the old-fashioned fireplace, and reaching down with his hands picked up a little piece of wood. His children’s hearts were breaking, so was his. Their eyes were brimming over with tears, so were his. Taking out an old-fashioned knife he began to whittle away at the piece of wood. He cut and cut until he had fashioned from the wood a little cross. Then holding it up between his fingers he said, “Children, I should like to tell you a story of One coming into the world in Bethlehem, cradled in a manger, living in Nazareth, preaching on the hills, suffering in Gethsemane, dying upon a cross like this.” And then, when all the children were gazing at the cross, he said, “Children, this was your mother’s Saviour. I should like Him to be your Saviour.”

I should like to have seen the Apostle Paul in the midst of a family circle talking about Jesus. I should like to have been at his feet when he gave to some suffering soul in the household the consolation with which he was so perfectly familiar. I should like to have heard from his own lips the story of his journey to Damascus. His heart was changed from a stone to flesh and blood. His spirit was changed from bitterness until at last he was as tender as a woman.

He was a personal preacher. He was also an evangelistic preacher. He was in a great line. He was following John the Baptist, who said, “Repent ye.”

IHe was walking in the footsteps of Jesus, who said, “Except ye repent.” He was following close to St. Peter, who said, “Repent and be baptized. Turn unto Him and live.” He was starting a great line of preachers. Vhitfield thundered out repentance, the power of John Wesley’s message wasrepentance, the thrill of Moody’s story was repentance, and the thing that made Edwards great in our land was this, he was not afraid to tell men that they had’smnecf against God, neither was he afraid to call them to repentance.

Therefore, it would seem to me that I am speaking as I ought to speak when I say, “Repentance toward God, faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.” I believe you will agree with me when I say that there will be no repentance until, first of all, we understand something about sin. When I was a minister in New York City, in common with other ministers I was pleading for a revival. I agreed with every other evangelical minister in the city to preach on a certain Sunday with this in mind. I remember when that Sunday came I took as my plea, the Great Commission, and I called upon the members of my church to go out into fields white to the harvest, and I thought I had fulfilled my obligation.

My old college president was a member of my con - gregation. Therefore he was not afraid to come u] to the minister, and lay his hand upon his shouldei and say, “I think you have made a mistake. I question,” said he, “if New York City will ever be stirred! I question if men will ever be aroused from their indifference. I question if men will ever feel the need of a Saviour until we get back to the old days where we preached the exceeding sinfulness of sin.” Therefore I should like to say this evening that I do not think there will be repentance until we know what sin is.

Sin! Why its progress is like the trail of the serpent. Upon every book in the Old Testament, upon every page of the New Testament, upon every story in history, sin has left its mark. Upon every nation under the sun sin has left its mark, in every home that has ever been established it has left its mark. Sin is its own detective. It has left its mark everywhere. In the life of the woman who ought to have the very highest respect from those who are members of her household and hei friends, it has left its mark. Sin! It could take your boy out of your arms and drag him down to despair, and break your heart. SIN! When you say it, you hear the hiss of the serpent in Eden. Do not think that men will ever repent until they begin to understand what sin is.

But there is another thing that we must also know. It is not only sin against society, it is not only sin against your mother, your father, it is not only sin against the church, but sin is against God. A man told me yesterday that he expected to reform. Very well, reform and you will touch yourself and your present, but you won’t touch your past sin. You may resolve to be better from to-day, but your resolution does not touch yesterday. Reformation fails, resolution is powerless, sin is against God and demands repentance and atonement.

In the City of New York there was a mother who saved her little girl, ten years of age, when she was in a burning building. The mother’s hands were protected, and her body was protected, but her face was unprotected and it was badly burned. Not with all the skill of New York physicians could she be restored to anything like her former comeliness. She was horrible to see. She always went around her home and in the streets of our city with a veiled face. One day she went to one of the Sixth Avenue elevated stations and was waiting for a train when a company of school-girls came in. The opening of the door caused a gust of wind to pass through the station. It lifted her veil and threw it back. Before she could recover herself the school -girls saw her disfigured countenance. One girl was her own child, and when the girls stepped back in horror as they looked on that face, this girl failed to acknowledge her mother or speak to her. You shudder at that, but I think it is a small thing in comparison with the sin against God. He is infinite in His love, marvelous in His compassion, endless in His mercy. And you have sinned against God. “Repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ” is necessary.

But I have an idea that some of you are saying! “What is repentance?” In the Old Testament I ami told that the word means to sigh or to groan, and inj the New Testament, to tu<T around- Put the words together and you have the beginning of a definition. Repentance — it is being sorry for sin, but it is turning away from sin with God’s help. I heard an Anglican Lord Bishop say on our journey to Australia that repentance was coming back to and walking with God, and going as far back as you wandered away. And it occurred to me that the going back was a great deal easier than going away, because in the going back we have the arm of Jesus around us.

Repentance is sorrow for sin — at least, that is, part of it. Sorrow for sin because other people are hurt. I know of a man who lived in the state of New York. He was a brilliant lawyer, a university man who became addicted to strong drink. He all but killed his wife and children, and one day his little boy ran to my friend the minister, and said, “Come as quickly as you can. Father is intoxicated again.” And my friend rushed through the streets with the boy and reached the door of the hovel only to find a woman standing there with a white face. She said to my friend, “Sir, he is dead.” And the little fellow ran up and threw his arms round his mother’s waist and said, “Mother, aren’t you glad, aren’t you glad?” I told that story in Sydney, Australia, and the next day a young lawyer met me on the street and said, “That story of yours is not fanciful. My father is a judge in Sydney, and if at this moment I should hear that he was dead I would get on the tram car and go out to the edge of the city and I would take my old gray-haired mother in my arms and say, ‘Mother, he is dead. No more heart-aches, no more blows, no more anguish, as you wait for him.’”

Remorse on account of sin is also a part of repentance. Remorse because sin hurts yourself. Repentance is also contrition, because sin is against God.

But you must put all these together. Sorrow for sin, remorse on account of sin, contrition because of sin. Then what else? Do what the prodigal did.

Say this, “I will arise and go to my father.” He arose and went. That is repentance.

Years ago I used to go to a Methodist camp meeting in the United States. It was a very old-fashioned camp meeting. They gloried in the fact that it was old-fashioned. I was there one particular summer and they told me that the preceding summer they had a very distinguished doctor of divinity there from the City of New York and he had preached to them on repentance in such a scholarly way that they were not at all sure that they ever had repented, and the longer he preached the more confused they were. At that meeting, also, was a famous old preacher who was known all over the State. He was not much of a speaker. His grammatical mistakes were many, but God used him. When the doctor of divinity finished his celebrated sermon on repentance this old man rose up and said, “Will you allow me to preach on repentance? I will take five minutes to do it.” Upon his cane he began to walk down the aisle, and every step he took he said this, “I am going to hell.” You can imagine the effect of that. A little bit startled, the people began to get up all around the building to see him go. He got about two-thirds of the way down the aisle, and the interest was at fever heat, when suddenly he turned squarely about and said, “I am going to heaven.” Getting up on the platform he said, “That is repentance.” Just right-about-face! Turn away from sin, away from the thing that hurts you.

I know this, that you may sorrow until your tears are almost blood, that you may have remorse until reason would give way, and yet never, never repent.

Repentance is being so sorry for sin that with God’s help you will give it up. Will you do it? Hear me then, in God’s name don’t wait, for if you wait until to-morrow there must be a deeper repentance. Do not delay, because that is the reason why men must struggle so to be saved. They have delayed too long.

“Repentance toward God, faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.” Here is a man who says he cannot believe. Very well, have you repented? A man told me the other day that he thought we preachers had an intangible way of presenting salvation. It is faith, faith, faith. He said that no man out in the world could appreciate that. Well, you can appreciate this: Have you repented? Answer it — have you repented? If you have, then listen.

Faith is the gift of God. Have you done your part? You say, “What is faith?” I will tell you what it is. It is taking the promises in this Book and accepting them. It is standing upon God’s sure Word and saying, ‘I cannot understand this, but I will stand here upon it, and wait the solution of the mystery.’ That is faith. It is accepting the testimony of other men. One night there came up to the Water Street Mission an old man who had been there three times before the same night. The last call was at one o’clock in the morning. Mr. S. H. Hadley, my beloved friend, went down to open the door, and he saw before him this old man. He was over six feet tall, but he was bent not only with age but with sin until he looked almost like a dwarf. His hair was matted, his beard was unkempt, his coat was fastened together at the top with a nail, which proved that he had on nothing under the coat. He had some old pieces of carpet wrapped around his feet. He leaned upon a mop stick to support himself. So wretched was he that he could scarcely open his eyes. That man had been the law partner of one of the men who was in Abraham Lincoln’s cabinet. Sin brought him down. Mr. Hadley looked at him, and said, “Colonel, you cannot come in.” And the old colonel, leaning upon his mop stick, his poor old feet so sore that he could scarcely walk, went on down under the Brooklyn bridge.

Mr. Hadley went up to his bed but he could not sleep. At three o’clock in the morning he went out after the man, and found him lying huddled together at the foot of one of the piers of the Brooklyn bridge. Mr. Hadley was a lame man himself, but he stooped down and took the colonel in his arms and fairly dragged him along the streets. He bathed him with his own hand and put him into his own bed to sleep. The next morning he clothed him and when the night came, with his arms round about him, he led him to the penitent form, and the old colonel dropped down on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He stained that famous altar with his tears, and he said, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” Instantly he rose up and the chains were gone. He went back to his old law practice, and was restored to his old position. One night he came into my meeting with his gray hair brushed from his brow, with his eyes shining, and his face bearing all the marks of refinement of his own nature, and that of his mother back of him. What made the change? I will tell you. Jesus. Just accept him, and then come to the foot of the cross and look up into the face of Jesus and say, “Jesus, Master, I will acknowledge Thee,” and do it — do it now. And then start from that point and keep trusting and following Him.

We have a remarkable man out in Chicago, Mr. Dooley. You have read his books and his sayings in the newspaper. He said, “You have got to start believing to have an argument for your belief, and when you start the arguments will spring out of the ground.” They will come from the heavens, they will face you whichever way you turn. Start now.

I would like to tell you what the result will be. Chains gone, doubts lifted, heart made clean, a song upon your lips, joy in your heart. Come, take Him to-night.