^[1]Every plant must have both soil and root. Without both of these there can be no life, no growth, no fruit.

Holiness must have these. The root is ‘peace with God’; the soil in which that root strikes itself, and out of which it draws the vital sap, is the free love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. ‘Rooted in love’ is the apostle’s description of a holy man. Holiness is not austerity or gloom; these are as alien to it as levity and flippancy. Nor is it the offspring of terror, or suspense, or uncertainty, but peace, conscious peace, and this peace must be rooted in grace, it must be the consequence of our having ascertained, upon sure evidence, the forgiving love of God. He who would lead us into holiness must ‘guide our feet into the way of peace’ (Luke 1:79). He must show us how we, ‘being delivered out of the hand of our enemies’, ‘may serve God without fear, in holiness and righteousness, before Him, all the days of our life’ (Luke 1:74, 75). He who would do this must also ‘give us the knowledge of salvation, by the remission of sins’. He must tell us how, through ‘the tender mercy of our God…the dayspring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death’ (Luke 1:78–79).

In carrying out the great work of making us holy, God speaks to us, as ‘the God of peace’ (Rom. 16:20), ‘the very God of peace’ (1 Thess. 5:23), and as being Himself ‘our peace’ (Eph. 2:14). That which we receive from Him, as such, is not merely ‘peace with God’ (Rom. 5:1), but ‘the peace of God’ (Phil. 4:7), the thing which the Lord calls ^‘My peace’ (John 14:27), ‘My joy’ (John 15:11). It is in connection with the exhortation, ‘Be perfect,’ that the apostle sets down the gracious assurance: ‘The God of love and peace shall be with you’ (2 Cor. 13:11)—‘These things I will that thou affirm constantly,’ says the apostle, speaking of ‘the grace of God that bringeth salvation’, ‘the kindness and love of God our Saviour’, the ‘mercy of God’, ‘justification by his grace’, in order that (such is the force of the Greek) ‘they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works’ (Titus 3:8).

In this ‘peace with God’ there is, of course, contained salvation, forgiveness, and deliverance from the wrath to come. But these, though precious, are not terminating points; not ends, but beginnings; not the top but the bottom of the ladder which rests its foot upon the new sepulcher wherein never man was laid, and its top against the wall of the holy City. He, therefore, who is contenting himself with these, has not yet learned the true purport of the gospel, nor the end which God, from eternity, had in view when preparing for us such a redemption as that which He has accomplished for the sons of men, through his only begotten Son, ‘who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity.’

Without these, holiness is impossible, so that we may say this at least; that it is through them that holiness is made practicable, for the legal condition of the sinner, as under wrath, stood as a barrier between him and the possibility of holiness. So long as he was under condemnation, the Law prohibited the approach of everything that would make him holy. The Law bars salvation, except on the fulfillment of its claims; so it bars holiness, until the great satisfaction to its claims has been recognized by the individual, that is, until he has believed the divine testimony to the atonement of the cross, and so been personally set free from condemnation. The Law pronounces against the idea of holiness in an unforgiven man. It protests against it as an incongruity and as an injury to righteousness. If, then, a pardoned man’s remaining unholy seem strange, much more so a holy man’s remaining unpardoned. The sinner’s legal position must be set to rights before his moral position can be touched. Condition is one thing, character is another. The sinner’s standing before God, either in favour or disfavour, either under grace or under wrath, must first be dealt with ere his inner renewal can be carried on. The judicial must precede the moral.

Hence it is of pardon that the gospel first speaks to us, for the question of pardon must first be settled before we proceed to others. The adjustment of the relationship between us and God is an indispensable preliminary, both on God’s part and on ours. There must be friendship between us, ere He can bestow or we receive his indwelling Spirit; for on the one hand, the Spirit cannot make his dwelling in the unforgiven; and on the other, the unforgiven must be so occupied with the one question of forgiveness, that they are not at leisure to attend to anything till this has been finally settled in their favour. The man who knows that the wrath of God is still upon him, or, which is the same thing practically, is not sure whether it has been turned away or not, is really not in a condition to consider other questions, however important, if he has any true idea of the magnitude and terribleness of the anger of Him who is a consuming fire.

The divine order then is first pardon, then holiness; first peace with God, and then conformity to the image of that God with whom we have been brought to be at peace. For as likeness to God is produced by beholding His glory (2 Cor. 3:18), and as we cannot look upon Him till we know that He has ceased to condemn us, and as we cannot trust Him till we know that He is gracious; so we cannot be transformed into His image till we have received pardon at His hands. Reconciliation is indispensable to resemblance; personal friendship must begin a holy life.

If such be the case, pardon cannot come too soon, even were the guilt of an unpardoned state not reason enough for any amount of urgency in obtaining it without delay. Nor can we too strongly insist upon the divine order above referred to: first peace, then holiness—peace as the foundation of holiness, even in the case of the chief of sinners.

Some do not object to a reputable man obtaining immediate peace, but they object to a profligate getting it at once! So it has always been; the old taunt is still on the lip of the modern Pharisee; ‘He is gone to be a guest with a man that is a sinner,’ and the Simons of our day speak within themselves and say, ‘This man, if He were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth Him, for she is a sinner’ (Luke 7:39). But what then of Manasseh, and Magdalene, and Saul, and the woman of Sychar, and the jailor, and the men of Jerusalem, whose hands were red with blood? Were they not trusted with a free and immediate peace? Did not the very essence and strength of the gospel’s curative and purifying power lie in the freeness, the promptness, the certainty of the peace which it brought to these ‘chief of sinners’? ‘So you say you have found Christ, and have peace with God?’ said one who claimed the name of ‘evangelical,’ to a poor profligate who, only a few weeks before, had been drawn to the cross. ‘I have indeed,’ said the poor man. ‘I have found him, I have peace, and I know it.’ ‘Know it!’ said the divine, ‘and have you the presumption to tell me this? I have been a respectable member of a church for thirty years, and have not got peace nor assurance yet, and you, who have been a profligate most of your life, say that you have peace with God!’ ‘Yes, I have been as bad as a man can well be, but I have believed the gospel, and that gospel is good news for the like of me; and if I have no right to peace, I had better go back to my sins, for if I cannot get peace as I am, I shall never get it at all.’ ‘It’s all a delusion,’ said the other. ‘Do you think that God would give a sinner like you peace, and not give it to me who have been doing all I can to get it for so many years?’ ‘You are such a respectable man,’ said the other, in unconscious irony, ‘that you can get on without peace and pardon, but a wretch like me cannot. If my peace is a delusion, it cannot be a bad one, for it makes me leave off sin, and makes me pray and read my Bible. Since I got it, I have turned over a new leaf.’ ‘It won’t last,’ said the other. ‘Well, but it is a good thing while it does last, and it is strange to see the like of you trying to take from me the only thing that ever did me good. It looks as if you would be glad to see me going back to my old sins. You never tried to bring me to Christ, and, now when I have come to Him, you are doing all you can to take me away. But I’ll stick to Him in spite of you.’

Some speak as if it were imperiling morality to let the sinner obtain immediate peace with God. If the peace be false, morality may be compromised, by men pretending to the possession of a peace which is yet no peace. But, in that case, the evil complained of is the result of the hollowness, not the suddenness, of the peace, and can afford no ground for objecting to speedy peace, unless speedy peace is of necessity false, and unless the mere length of the process is security for the genuineness of the result. The existence of false peace is no argument against the true, and what we affirm is, that true peace can neither be too speedy nor too sure.

Others speak as if no sinner could be trusted with pardon till he has undergone a certain amount of preliminary mental suffering, more or less in duration and in intensity, according to circumstances. It would be dangerous to the interests of morality to let him obtain an immediate pardon and, especially to be sure of it, or to rejoice in it. If the man has been previously moral in life, they would not object to this; but they question the profligate’s right to present peace, and protest against the propriety of it on grounds of subtle morality. They argue for delay, to give him time to improve before he ventures to speak of pardon. They insist upon a long season of preparatory conflict, years of sad suspense and uncertainly, in order to qualify the prodigal for his father’s embrace, and to prevent the unseemly spectacle of a sinner this week rejoicing in the forgiveness of his sins, who last week was wallowing in the mire. This season of delay, during which they would prohibit the sinner from assuring himself of God’s free love, they consider the proper safeguard of a free gospel, and the needful guarantee for the sinner’s future humility and holiness.

Is not, then, the position taken up by these men substantially that adopted by the scribes, when they murmured at the Lord’s gracious familiarity with the unworthy, saying, ‘This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them’? And is it not in great measure coincident with the opinion of popish divines respecting the danger to morality from the doctrine of immediate justification through simple faith in the justifying work of Christ?^[2]

The apostles evidently had great confidence in the gospel. They gave it fair play, and spoke it out in all its absolute freeness, as men who could trust it for its moral influence, as well as for its saving power, and who felt that the more speedily and certainly its good news were realized by the sinner, the more would that moral influence come into play. They did not hide it, nor trammel it, nor fence it round with conditions, as if doubtful of the policy of preaching it freely. ‘Be it known unto you,’ they said, ‘men and brethren, that through this Man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins, and by Him all that believe are justified’ (Acts 13:38–39). They had no misgivings as to its bearings on morality, nor were they afraid of men believing it too soon, or getting too immediate relief from it. The idea does not seem to have entered their mind, that men could betake themselves to Christ too soon, or too confidently, or without sufficient preparation. Their object in preaching it was, not to induce men to commence a course of preparation for receiving Christ, but to receive them at once and on the spot; not to lead them through the long avenue of a gradually amended life to the cross of the Sin-bearer; but to bring them at once into contact with the cross, so that sin in them might be slain, the old man crucified, and a life of true morality begun. As the strongest motive to a holy life, they preached the cross. They believed that, ‘the cross once seen is death to every vice’, and in the interests of holiness they stood and pleaded with men to take the proffered peace.

It is no disparagement to morality to say that good works are not the way to Christ. It is no slighting of the sacraments to say that they are not the sinner’s resting-place, so neither is it any deprecation of devotion, or repentance, or prayer, to say that they are not qualifying processes which fit the sinner for approaching the Saviour, either as making the sinner more acceptable or Christ more willing to receive. Still less is it derogating from the usefulness or the blessedness of these exercises, in their proper place and office, to say that they are often the refuges of self-righteousness, pretexts which the sinner makes use of to excuse his guilt in not at once taking salvation from the hands of Jesus. We do not undervalue love because we say a man is not justified by love, but by faith. We do not discourage prayer because we preach that a man is not justified by prayer but by faith. When we say that believing is not working, but a ceasing from work, we do not mean that the believing man is not to work, but that he is not to work for pardon, but to take it freely, and that he is to believe before he works, for works done before believing are not pleasing to God.

Is it the case that the sinner cannot be trusted with the gospel?

In one sense this is true. He cannot be trusted with anything. He abuses everything. He turns everything to bad account. He makes everything the minister of sin.

But if he cannot be trusted with the gospel, can he be trusted with the Law? If he cannot be trusted with grace, can he be trusted with righteousness? He cannot be trusted with an immediate pardon; can he be trusted with a tardy one? He cannot be trusted with faith; can he be trusted with doubt? He cannot be trusted with peace; can he be trusted with gloom and trouble? He cannot be trusted with assurance; can he be trusted with suspense, and will uncertainly do for him what certainty cannot?

That which he can, after all, best be trusted with is the gospel. He has abused it, he may abuse it, but he is less likely to abuse it than anything else. It appeals to deeper, stronger, and more numerous motives than all other things together.

The teaching of some in the present day seems fitted, that of others intended, to hinder assurance. Assurance, say some, is impossible. Not impossible, say others, but very hard of attainment; not only very hard, but very long of being reached, requiring at least some thirty or forty years of prayer and good works. Very dangerous, say others, introducing presumption, and sure to end in apostasy. I confess I do not see how my being thoroughly persuaded that a holy God loves me with a holy love, and has forgiven me all my sins, has a tendency to evil (even though I may have reached that conclusion quickly). It seems, of all truths, one of the likeliest to make me holy, to kindle love, to stimulate to good works, and to abase all pride; whereas uncertainty in this matter enfeebles me, darkens me, bewilders me, incapacitates me for service or, at the best sets me striving to work my way into the favour of God, under the influence of a subordinate and mercenary class of motives, which can do nothing but keep me dreading and doubting all the days of my life, leaving me, perhaps, at the close, in hopeless darkness.

Hence the apostles trusted the gospel with the sinner, and the sinner with the gospel, so unreservedly, and (as many in our day would say) unguardedly. ‘To him that worketh not, but believeth, his faith is counted for righteousness’, was a bold statement. It is that of one who had great confidence in the gospel which he preached, who had no misgivings as to its unholy tendencies, if men would but give it fair play. He himself always preached it as one who believed it to be the power of God unto holiness, no less than unto salvation.

That this is the understanding of the New Testament, the ‘mind of the Spirit’, requires no proof. Few would in words deny it to be so; only they state the gospel so timorously, so warily, so guardedly, with so many conditions, terms, and reservations, that by the time they have finished their statement, they have left no good news in that which they set out with announcing as ‘the gospel of the grace of God’.

The more fully that the gospel is preached, in the grand old apostolic way, the more likely it is to accomplish the results which it did in the apostolic days.

The gospel is the proclamation of free love; the revelation of the boundless charity of God. Nothing less than this will suit our world; nothing else is so likely to touch the heart, to go down to the lowest depths of depraved humanity, as the assurance that the sinner has been loved—loved by God, loved with a righteous love, loved with a free love that makes no bargain as to merit, or fitness, or goodness. ‘Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us!’ As the lord of the vineyard, after sending servant upon servant to the husbandmen in vain, sent at last his ‘one son, his well beloved’ (Mark 12:6), so, Law having failed, God has dispatched to us the message of his love, as that which is by far the likeliest to secure his ends. With nothing less than this free love will He trust our fallen race. He will not trust them with Law, or judgment, or terror (though these are well in their place), but He will trust them with his love! Not with a stinted or conditional love, with half pardons, or an uncertain salvation, or a tardy peace, or a doubtful invitation, or an all but impracticable amnesty—not with these does He cheat the heavy laden; not with these will He mock the weary sons of men. He wants them to be holy, as well as safe, and He knows that there is nothing in heaven or earth so likely to produce holiness, under the teaching of the Spirit of holiness, as the knowledge of his own free love. It is not law, but ‘the love of Christ’, that constraineth! ‘The strength of sin is the Law’ (1 Cor. 15:56), so the strength of holiness is deliverance from the law (Rom. 7:6). Yet are we not ‘without law’ (1 Cor. 9:21), neither yet ‘under the law’ (Rom. 6:14), but ‘under grace’, that we should ‘serve in newness of Spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter’.^[3]

But so many (it is said) of those who were awakened under the preaching of this very free gospel have gone back, that suspicions arise as to whether it may not be the ultra-freeness of the gospel preached that has produced the evil. It is suggested that, had the gospel been better guarded both before and behind, we should have seen fewer falls and less inconsistency. To this our answer is ready. Multitudes ‘went back’ from our Lord, yet no one could blame his preaching. There were many grievous corruptions in the early church, yet we do not connect these with apostolic doctrine. Our Lord’s parable of the sower implies that, however good the seed might be, and careful the sower, there would be stony-ground hearers and thorny-ground hearers, going a certain length and then turning back. So that the backslidings complained of are such as the apostles experienced, such as our Lord led us to anticipate, under the preaching of his own full gospel.

Further than this, however, we add that, while the preaching of a guarded gospel may lead to no backslidings, it will accomplish no awakenings; so that the question will come to be this: is it not better to have some fallings away when many are aroused, than to have no falling away, because none have been shaken? The question as to what kind of teaching results in fewest backslidings is, no doubt, an important one; but still it is subordinate to the main one: ‘what preaching produces, upon the whole, the most conversions, and brings most glory to God?’ Apostasies will occur in the best of churches, bringing with them scandal to the name of Jesus, and suspicion of the gospel as the cause of all the evil. But is this a new thing in the earth? Is it not one of the things that strikingly identify us with Corinth, and Sardis, and Laodicea? A minister who has never had his heart wounded with apostasy, who knows nothing of the disappointment of cherished hopes, has too good reason to suspect that there is something sadly wrong, and that the reason of there being no backslidings in his flock, is because death is reigning. Where all is silence or sleep, where the preaching does not shake and penetrate, there will be fewer fallings away; but the reason is, that there was nothing to fall away from. ‘Where are your converts now?’ was the question put to a faithful minister who had had to mourn the fall of some who once ‘ran well’. ‘Just where they were: the true still holding fast, the untrue showing themselves.’ It was meant as a taunt, but it was a taunt which might have been cast at apostles. It was a taunt which carried comfort with it, as reminding the faithful minister of apostolic disappointment, and so bringing him into fellowship with Paul himself, and as recalling the blessed fact that though some had fallen, more were standing.

The whole Galatian church had lapsed into error and sin. How does the apostle cure the evil? By fencing or paring down the gospel, and making it less free? No, but by reiterating its freeness; nay, stating it more freely than ever. How free does he represent it in the Epistle! Hence Luther chose it for comment, as the best one suiting himself.

Some ask the question: Is it not a suspicious sign of your gospel, that any of the hearers of it should say, ‘May we continue in sin, that grace may abound?’ On the contrary, it is a safe sign of it. Had it not been very like Paul’s gospel, it would not have led to the same inquiry with which the apostle’s preaching was met. The restricted, guarded, conditional gospel, which some give us, as the ultimatum of their good news, would have suggested no such thought as that which the sixth chapter of Romans was written to obviate. The argument of the apostle, in such a case, becomes unmeaning and superfluous, and hence that statement which prompts some cavilers to ask the question: ‘Shall we sin, because we are not under the Law, but under grace?’ (Rom. 6: 15) is not at all unlikely to be the authentic Pauline gospel, the genuine doctrine of apostolic antiquity.

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