02.06. HOLY RESOLUTIONS.
6. HOLY RESOLUTIONS.
"I will go into Your house with burnt offerings; I will pay You my vows, which my lips have uttered and my mouth has spoken when I was in trouble." Psalms 66:13-14
We learn from these words that the Psalmist "vowed unto the Lord" in the time of trouble. His vows had reference partly to that mode of worship and service which was established by the dispensation under which he lived — he resolved to glorify God "by going into his house with burnt-offerings" — and partly, also, to those services of praise and thanksgiving, which have been the universal and permanent expression of religious homage under every successive dispensation: "You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy — that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever!" Psalms 30:11-12
Such were the Psalmist’s vows — and they embodied, as it were, those sentiments which affliction taught him to entertain, in regard both to God and himself. You are well aware that sacrifice under the old dispensation was partly typical and partly ritualistic — that in the one case, it exhibited and expressed a just sense of the evil nature of sin, and of God’s displeasure on account of it — while it prefigured or typified that one sacrifice by which the Lamb of God should take away the sins of the world. And, in the other case, it was a grateful acknowledgment of the Lord’s goodness — a joyful commemoration of his wonderful deliverances. A believer, under the old dispensation, was naturally led by affliction to cherish those feelings, of which sacrifice was then the proper expression. For just in proportion as affliction impressed his mind with a lively sense of his own sinfulness, or with a reverential fear of God’s justice — his subdued and humbled spirit would take refuge in that rite of sacrifice which, as it expressed all that he felt of the evil of sin, so did it also point to a remission of sins, through the shedding of blood. Thus at once deepening his humiliation and confirming his hope — while the experience of God’s faithfulness and love, in the time of trouble, furnished fresh materials and motives for those sacrifices of thanksgiving, and those songs of praise, which were the appropriate expressions of his gratitude and joy. Shall it be said, then, that, under the new and more perfect dispensation of the Gospel, the afflictions of God’s people can have no corresponding effect, and their experience under it no suitable expression? Are not believers, in modern times, taught the same great lessons in the school of trial which prompted the vows that were uttered by David? Are they not taught the evil of sin, and the justice of God, and the necessity of salvation? Have they not also a rich experience of his paternal love, and many reasons both for humility and gratitude? And shall we suppose that there is no proper expression for their inward feelings — no duty resulting from their discipline — no obligation imposed by their experience both of mercy and of judgment?
Far from it! Sacrifices such as David offered have ceased in the Christian Church — just because the great Atoning sacrifice has been offered for sin. But if we have been taught, as David was, the spiritual lessons which affliction unfolds — we shall have recourse, with greater earnestness than ever, to that one Sacrifice which has finished transgression, and made an end of sin — and to the sacrament by which that sacrifice is now commemorated, as formerly it was prefigured by sacrifice — and we shall feel it to be our delightful privilege to say, in the very words of David, "What shall I render to the Lord for all his kindness? I will take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord — I will pay my vows now unto the Lord, in the presence of all his people!"
We cannot conceive, indeed, of the end of affliction being fulfilled, without producing a purpose or resolution of amendment, such as, whether it assumes the formal shape of avow or not — has in it all the moral force and obligation of a solemn engagement to the Lord. Whether we consider the day of trouble as designed for our instruction, for our reproof, and for our probation, or as a means of fitting us for farther trials — for future temptations — for more extensive usefulness — for the hour of death, or for eternal glory — in each of these respects, it affords a suitable occasion, and addresses to us a loud call for new engagements and resolutions in the way of duty. We cannot have experienced the sanctified use of affliction, unless we have been brought to resolve, and to resolve in right earnest, that, "whatever others do — as for us, we will serve the Lord." A solemn resolution or engagement to that effect is the proper fruit of those convictions, and that experience which we have had in the time of trouble. The natural connection between affliction and some such solemn engagements, may be illustrated by a few practical examples. Is affliction designed for our reproof? Is it fitted to humble us, and to prove us, and to show us what is in our hearts? Then how does it accomplish this end? Is it not by leading every believer to review the course of his life — to inquire into the state of his heart — and to mark what in either may have been offensive to God? If, in the course of this inquiry, the believer discerns, as he will have no difficulty in doing, some sins which do most easily beset him, some temptations to which he is most prone to yield, some graces of the Christian character in which he is most defective — he will doubtless, in the first instance, confess his sin before the Lord. But must not his convictions be slight indeed, and must not his painful discipline be equally unproductive — if they terminate in mere confession, and lead to no practical change?
If, in the time of sickness, the remembrance of some one sin has been peculiarly burdensome to his conscience — is it possible that he can have confessed that sin to the Lord without at least forming the purpose of forsaking it? He who confesses and forsakes his sin shall find mercy. But mere confession unaccompanied with a resolution to amend, is unavailing, because it springs rather from remorse of conscience — than from that evangelical repentance which implies not only a sincere grief, but a holy hatred for sin, and leads the penitent to turn from it unto God with the full purpose of, and endeavor after new obedience. And hence, in this psalm, David, who was deeply sensible of his own sinfulness, and yet so thoroughly alive to the freeness of divine grace that he regarded his past transgressions as no reason why he should despair of pardon and acceptance with God — declares, nevertheless, his solemn conviction of the necessity of true repentance, and a thorough change of heart, in these emphatic words: "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me." (Psalm 66.18.) Not that a man must be righteous or innocent, before he can hope for God’s favor; for David was deeply sinful, and looked for pardon from God’s sovereign grace and mercy. Nor that he must be so thoroughly sanctified, as to become perfect, for David was still compassed about with iniquity, and felt, as did the apostle, the law in his members warring against the law of his mind. But still, his declaration is deeply significant — and it plainly implies that there can be no true repentance, and no hope therefore of God’s pardon and favor — where the soul still cleaves to its idols — where there is either a conscious determination to continue in the indulgence of sin, or no settled purpose of heart to forsake it. In the case of an unregenerate man, conscience often awakens remorse and alarm in the time of sickness, on account of his past sins — his impurity, or his dishonesty, or someone act of aggravated guilt, burdens his mind and gives him no rest. And many a sinner has in such circumstances, been brought to confess his sin unto the Lord, to lay to heart his real condition, and to form the purpose of breaking off his sins by repentance. In such a case, when the purpose is carried out into performance, we see the sanctified use of affliction. But what would we say of a drunkard, who while he mourns over his past conduct and confesses its sinfulness, is yet conscious of no resolution to forsake his degrading indulgence. Or what would we say of a dishonest man, who while he confesses his iniquity in words, is yet conscious of no intention to relinquish his gainful frauds, or to make restitution to those whom he had wronged? Would we not say, that here there is no evidence of repentance, and that the design of his affliction had not been fulfilled? And why should we conclude otherwise, in the case of God’s professing people. If any of them have been convinced in the time of trouble, that they have contracted habits of worldliness, which are inconsistent with their character as candidates for Heaven; or that they have indulged evil tempers, by which they have brought reproach on the Christian name; if, in fine, there is any one sin or omission of duty which, in a time of sickness, has pressed heavily on their conscience — would we not expect that, if their affliction is really sanctified to them, they will not only be humbled on account of that sin — but induced also to resolve that they will guard against and forsake it in time to come. And so, when affliction is considered as a means of instruction, it imparts new views, and new impressions of divine truth — such as should produce new and more earnest resolutions of entire devotedness to God.
If in the time of trouble, the believer feels that the truths of God’s word are peculiarly solemn and impressive — if in the prospect of death, he reads the Bible, with all-engrossing interest, and feels that the whole world is nothing to him in comparison with that precious volume — then is it too much to expect, that he should so improve his experience as to resolve, that hereafter, his chief attention will be bestowed on its contents — that he will take it as the man of his counsel, as the rule of his life, and as his song in the house of his pilgrimage?
If in the time of trouble, the believer receives new and more impressive views of the relative magnitude and the mutual relations of time and eternity; if, in one aspect, time appears as nothing when compared with eternity, being but as a drop of water compared to the ocean — or a grain of sand compared to the sea-shore — a dream, a vapor, the shadow of smoke — while in another aspect, when considered in its connection with eternity, as the only season that is given for preparation, it rises into transcendent importance by reason of its momentous outcomes — then is it too much to expect, that he should, under such impressions, resolve to live for eternity, and, for that end, redeem the time?
If, in the day of trouble, the believer feels as if the spell which this fleeting world too often imposes on him, had been broken, and sees with the clearness of intuition, that there is one only thing which should greatly concern him, and in comparison with which, all other interests are mere trifles — the salvation of his immortal soul — if he is so thoroughly penetrated by this conviction, that he would give all he had in the world to secure it; Oh! is it too much then to expect, that, under such impressions, he will resolve to regard this as the one thing that is needful, to avoid everything in the business or pleasures of life that might endanger his safety, and to be diligent in the use of every means by which the welfare of his soul may be advanced?
If, in the time of trouble, and especially in the prospect of death, he feels, as he ought, how precious is the favor of God, how great is the redemption of Christ, how needful the grace of the Holy Spirit; if he feels that then he has no stay to rest on — but must seek his refuge in God; no ground of hope except what Christ affords, and no other comfort except what the Spirit imparts — is it too much then to expect, that he who knows that although restored for a season, he is only reprieved, and must yet return to the gates of death, and enter into the world of spirits, and stand at the judgment-seat, and spend an eternity in Heaven or in Hell — that he will, under such solemn impressions, resolve at least to guard against estrangement from God for the time to come — to live a life of faith in the Son of God, and to avoid everything by which the Holy Spirit, to whom he looks for comfort in his dying hour, might be grieved, or induced to withdraw from his soul?
Thus it is, that whether affliction is regarded as a means of reproof, or of instruction — it should in every case, and, whenever it is duly improved, will lead the believer, to devote himself more entirely and unreservedly to his Master’s service.
Before leaving this part of the subject, however, it may be useful to suggest three necessary cautions: The first caution is, that these resolutions of future amendment must not be allowed to prevent or supersede the immediate duty of closing with Christ, and returning to God without delay. The primary and most urgent duty of every man, in such circumstances, is to embrace the free offer of the Gospel; to commit his soul into Christ’s hands, and to have immediate recourse to God. And if this first duty be neglected or deferred, all his good resolutions are of no avail, and may even be dangerous. It is to be feared that, in the time of trouble, some are prone to substitute resolutions as to future amendment in place of an immediate conversion. They resolve that, if God would but spare them, they will lead a new life, and forsake their former sins, and attend more diligently to the means of grace. They are in danger of supposing that this is a sufficient evidence of repentance, while, if they would but examine the state of their hearts, they could not fail to be conscious that they have had no earnest fellowship with God; that they have made no practical return to him; that they have not as yet deliberately and solemnly surrendered themselves into the Savior’s hands, and that they are really as much estranged in heart from God and his spiritual service as they were before.
It is possible, too, that in such circumstances, they may be influenced to a certain extent by self-righteous views; they may be looking to their future amendment as a means of qualifying them for drawing near to God, or of recommending them to his favorable regard. If such is the case with any in the time of trouble, they must bear to be reminded:
First, that they are leaving the salvation of their souls to depend on a mere contingency; they may or they may not recover; and should they leave their salvation to depend on something that they mean to do after their recovery, they incur the most fearful peril, for God may be pleased to take them away.
Secondly, that there is absolutely no reason for this postponement and delay; for the fullness of all Gospel privilege is now placed at their acceptance; the warrant of faith is as plain, and the ground of faith is as strong, and the offer of salvation as free. God is just as merciful a Judge, Christ just as great a Savior, the Spirit just as benignant a Comforter — the throne of grace is just as accessible, and their reconciliation just as possible, now, as it ever can be, even should they be spared. And thirdly, that while their possible death, at an early period, should shut them up to the necessity of an immediate return to God, their future amendment is neither precluded nor prejudiced — but on the contrary, can only be effectually secured and promoted by this initial change. While its necessity does not arise, in any measure, from its presumed efficacy in qualifying them for, or recommending them to, God’s favor — but solely from its inseparable connection with a scriptural faith; from its being a fruit and token of a change of heart, and as such, an evidence of present grace, and a preparation for future glory. Our vows and resolutions, then, are not sincere, and they may be dangerous and fatal — if they supersede or prevent the discharge of our immediate duty — to close with Christ, and to return to God with our whole hearts, and without delay. The second caution which we would suggest is, that in forming resolutions at that solemn season, we are not called upon to bind ourselves to any exercises or observances, other than such as are of universal and permanent obligation, and that we should look chiefly to the weightier matters of the law.
There are two kinds of vows: The first class consists in a recognition of what was previously and ever, must be our duty — independently of our vow, and a sincere resolution to discharge it. The second kind of vow consists in a voluntary engagement to do some particular service, or to abstain from some particular indulgence, in token of our gratitude to God, or with a view to our own good, or that of our fellow-men; but respecting which, there is no express precept or prohibition, defining our duty in the Word of God. By the former, a previous and permanent obligation is recognized. By the latter, a new and special obligation is created. In the one case, we conform to God’s will — in the latter, we make a free-will offering. When a believer resolves, in the hour of trouble . . .
that whatever others do — he will serve the Lord;
that he will walk in all the commandments of the Lord blameless;
that he will make the salvation of his soul his chief concern, and God’s glory his highest end;
that he will take God’s Word as the rule of his life;
that he will commit his soul into Christ’s hands, and continue to trust in him from first to last;
that he will pray more frequently and more earnestly;
that he will keep himself unspotted from the world;
that he will guard especially against those sins which do most easily beset him — he is not creating any new obligations, but only recognizing such as are of universal and permanent obligation. Now, this is his primary duty; and these weightier matters of the law, which are common to all Christians, ought to have the first place in his thoughts.
It is not uncommon, however, for a person who conceives himself to be in imminent danger, and whose conscience becomes alarmed — to adopt a different course. Neglecting or shrinking from the great immediate duty of surrendering his heart entirely to God, and, even when he resolves on amendment, omitting the weightier matters of the law — he seeks to pacify his conscience, and perhaps also to propitiate God — by resolving on some external service — the founding of an hospital, or the building of a school, or the endowment of a church, or a costly donation to the poor.
Now we do not object to these and similar purposes, provided they proceed from Christian principle, and are the free expressions of gratitude to God, and charity to man. But let it never be forgotten that all this may be vowed, and not only vowed — but done by a man, whose conscience is ill at ease, while his heart is not right with God! And if this is designed or used as a substitute for thorough conversion, it is an opiate that may lull the conscience to rest, without any real change either in his spiritual condition or his eternal prospects. The third caution which we would suggest is, that in forming your resolutions, you should beware of relying on your own strength, or of trusting to your own good intentions. So prone are men to this fatal error, that Christian ministers who have had most experience in dealing with the sick, have very generally been led to attach little importance to any resolutions that may be expressed; and even to regard them, when uttered without an express reference to God’s sustaining grace, with a certain degree of jealousy, as indications of a mind not yet thoroughly impressed with a sense of its own helplessness.
If, in vowing to the Lord, you acknowledge the authority of God’s Word, when it calls you to repentance and amendment of life, why should you not acknowledge the authority of the same Word, when it tells you of your spiritual weakness, and urges you to seek the grace of the Holy Spirit? Yield at once to this humbling but beneficial truth! It will save you from many fruitless efforts, and prevent many painful disappointments, and set you at once on a path of cheerful obedience, hopeful activity, and progressive improvement. The doctrine of your own spiritual helplessness, when received as it ought to be, in connection with the doctrine of the Spirit’s grace — so far from depressing the mind, will encourage, and animate, and strengthen it. For then only does the believer feel that he has a sure warrant of hope, and a solid pledge of his final perseverance — when, sensible of his own weakness, he can say from the heart, "my sufficiency is of God!" And when he can enter into the meaning of the apostle’s statement, "When I am weak, then am I strong;" — weak in myself — but strong in God my strength.
"It is in vain," said the dejected Luther to Staupitz, when he was passing through that severe mental conflict which prepared the Reformation, "that I make a promise to God; sin is always too strong for me." "Oh! my friend," answered Staupitz, looking back on his own experience, "I have vowed to the Holy God more than a thousand times that I would lead a holy life, and never have I kept my vow! I now make no more vows, for I know well I shall not keep them. If God will not be merciful to me for Christ’s sake, and grant me a happy death when I leave this world, I cannot, with all my vows and good works, stand before him. I must perish!"
"When God began killing them — they finally sought him. Again and again they tested God’s patience and provoked the Holy One of Israel. They did not remember his power and how he rescued them from their enemies." (Psalm 78.) The aggravated guilt of such conduct may be illustrated by various considerations, which we shall briefly state, with the view of leading those who may be conscious that they are already chargeable with it to serious consideration and repentance, and also of preventing others from falling into so grievous a course of defection.
(1.) Let it be considered, then, that their unfulfilled resolutions are a proof that their afflictions, however numerous, and severe, and protracted — have not as yet been sanctified to them. Nay, that the very end and design of their trials has been frustrated, and that they come within the range of that fearful warning, "He who being often reproved and hardens his neck — shall suddenly be cut off, and that without remedy." And is it, can it be — a light matter to frustrate the end of affliction? That potent medicine is administered to us by an unerring Physician, for the cure of our moral diseases, for the renovation of our spiritual health. And is there no danger of its being changed, by our carelessness and folly, into deadly poison? It was the fearful aggravation of Pharaoh’s guilt that his heart was hardened by God’s judgments, and by the non-fulfillment of his own promises. So is it with every professing Christian who vows unto the Lord in the time of trouble — and, on his recovery, fails to perform his vow.
Affliction, thus mis-improved, cannot accomplish any of its great uses, either as a means of preparing us for future trials, or as a means of strengthening us for future temptations, or as a preparation for more extensive usefulness, for the hour of death, or for admission into glory. Its utility for these ulterior purposes, depends on its immediate effect in bringing us nearer to God, and leading us to devote ourselves, now, and unreservedly, to his service.
If we neglect for a time to fulfill the holy resolutions which we have been led to form while under the discipline of adversity, what evidence have we that our afflictions have been sanctified to us? What reason have we not, on the contrary, to believe that their end has been frustrated, and that God may say of us as he did of his ancient people, "Why should you be stricken any more? You will only revolt more and more!" (Isaiah 1:5.)
(2.) For let it be considered, that unfulfilled vows indicate, not only a forgetfulness of the obligations by which we had, in such solemn circumstances, bound ourselves — but also the loss of those deep and serious impressions of divine things, which then prompted us to resolve on a life of new obedience. These impressions, in which our vows originated, must have been effaced or sadly impaired — if our vows are forgotten or left unfulfilled on our restoration to health. Can we be supposed to have the same realizing views . . .
of God, and of our relation to him,
of the solemnities of death and judgment and eternity,
of the transcendent importance of salvation, and
of the unspeakable value of the soul —
now, when we are making light of our resolutions and engagements, as we had then, when, under these solemn impressions, we were constrained to vow unto the Lord? And yet, what reason can be assigned for this change? Is God less holy or less just — less omniscient or less almighty now, than then? Are we more independent of him in health than we were in sickness? Is he not still our Preserver, and will he not before long be our Judge? Is death less inevitably certain? Is judgment less awful? Is eternity less vast? Is the salvation of our souls less important, or the blood of Christ less precious, or the grace of the Spirit less needful now, than before? And why, then, when the realities of religion remain of the same permanent and unchangeable magnitude, should our views of them become so dim and so uninfluential? Why, if it is not that our hearts have never been seriously and thoroughly surrendered to God, can we so soon and so thoughtlessly forsake him on the return of temporal health and prosperity?
(3.) Let it be considered too, that our unfulfilled vows are a proof that we are not now disposed to act in the spirit of our former prayers. In the day of trouble, we may have prayed with strong crying and tears. When the terrors of death were before us, we found that we had no refuge but in God — and we felt that if we could only come near to him, and order our cause before him, we might yet be safe. But, at that solemn season, we did not pray only for our recovery — no, we felt that the alternative was forced upon our thoughts, of recovery or death. And as the former was then doubtful, oh! did we not pray most earnestly, for pardoning mercy, for renewing and sanctifying grace, for everything that was needful to make us fit for the inheritance of the saints in light? Now, God has been graciously pleased to disappoint our fears — he has granted that recovery which was then so doubtful. And what is the result? Are we as solicitous now as we then were, for those spiritual blessings which we supplicated with so much earnestness, and without which we knew we must perish? How can we be so, if we allow our vows and engagements to stand unfulfilled? Do we not, by this negligence, evince an estrangement of the heart from God? Do we not practically abandon the pursuit of those spiritual blessings which then were so precious to us? Do we not virtually retract and recall the prayers which were then offered up?
(4.) Let it be considered, that our unfulfilled vows are monuments of the deepest ingratitude. God has been good to us, good beyond our most hopeful expectations. He has delivered our eyes from tears, our feet from falling, and our souls from death. He has turned our mourning into dancing, and "given us beauty for ashes." In the day of trouble he supported us, administering the bounties of his providence, and the sweeter consolations of his Word. And now he has relieved and restored us from our trouble — and what is the result? A grateful acknowledgment of his goodness? A more sweet and delightful communion with him? A more cheerful and unreserved devotedness of heart to his service?
Alas! so it ought to be — but it is not, if already our resolutions and engagements have been violated or forgotten; if we have re-entered the busy world only to renew our former course of life; if now we return, "like the dog to his vomit, and like the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire?"
What base ingratitude is here! How can we plead that we love God, or that, however much we may rejoice in our recovery, we are really sensible of God’s goodness to us in that respect, if we allow the resolutions which were formed in the day of trouble, to remain unfulfilled in the day of returning prosperity? Nay, is not this a sad but conclusive proof, that as yet we are animated by mere selfishness — seeing that we were more ready to vow to the Lord when we were afraid of his judgments, than we now are to perform our vows after all our experience of his long-suffering patience and tender mercy? What principle of generous love — what fragment of real piety can exist in the heart — which is only capable of religious impressions through its fears, and not through its affections?
(5.) Let it be considered, that unfulfilled vows are too plain a proof of insincerity and hypocrisy of heart. We do not say that every partial declension of piety, occurring after a season of distress, or that every infirmity or sin contracted after such a season — ought to be regarded in this light. Far from it. In the time of trouble, God’s people are placed in circumstances which are fitted . . .
to deepen even their impressions of spiritual realities,
to invigorate their faith by imparting a nearer and more realizing view of unseen and eternal things,
and to quicken all the graces of the Christian character. And even they, on their return to the active business of life, are often constrained to mourn over their decays, and to look back to their experience in affliction as the sweetest which they have ever enjoyed. But while we are careful not "to make the heart of the righteous sad, whom the Lord has not made sad" (Ezekiel 13:22) — we must not "strengthen the hands of the wicked, that he should not return from his wicked way, by promising him life." And it is necessary, therefore, to say with the utmost faithfulness — that there is too much reason to suspect the insincerity and hypocrisy of such as vow unto the Lord in the time of trouble — and afterwards neglect or refuse to fulfill their vows.
It is all the more necessary to press this consideration, because such people may have been conscious, in the day of trouble, of such sharp convictions of conscience, such solemn views of death and eternity, such an agonizing commotion of spirit, and such real earnestness in regard to some at least of the subjects of their prayers — as to be in imminent danger of confounding these feelings with that genuine sincerity, and that thorough change of heart which the Gospel requires.
"Were we not sincere," may such people say, "when we felt so deeply, and prayed so earnestly, when our fears were so strong, and our resolutions so holy? We know best how we then felt, and no one will ever convince us that then, at least, we were not sincere!" But will they not bear to be affectionately reminded, that they are liable to be mistaken, and that a mistake on this point must be dangerous, and may be eternally fatal. Do they remember the solemn testimony of God, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked," when they speak thus confidently of the impossibility of their being deceived? Instances of a kind precisely similar to theirs are recorded in the Holy Scriptures — instances both of individuals and of communities, who, in the hour of danger, were as much alarmed, and as much in earnest, as themselves — and yet whose partial and temporary convictions did not amount to a saving change. Witness the case which I have already quoted from the 78th Psalm. Witness again the case of Judah, "Judah has not turned unto me with her whole heart — but insincerely, says the Lord." (Jeremiah 12:10.) And again, the case of Israel, "They have not cried unto me with their heart, when they howled upon their beds." (Hosea 7:14.)
There is much in the time of trouble that may excite an earnestness of desire, which is altogether different from Christian sincerity, and awaken deep convictions of conscience, which must not be mistaken for thorough conversion of heart. The sufferer may be not only sincere — but earnest and importunate for some blessings — while his heart is shut against the reception of a full salvation as it is presented in the Gospel.
He may cry to God for help;
he may earnestly pray for recovery;
he may as earnestly supplicate for the pardon of those sins which lie heavy on his conscience, and for deliverance from that future and eternal punishment which no human mind can deliberately anticipate without aversion and alarm. In all this he may be sincere and earnest, and yet everything that is purely spiritual in religion may be as distasteful and offensive to him as it ever was!
He may wish for recovery, and yet shrink from present conversion!
He may cry for God’s help, when vain is the help of man — and yet have no love for God!
He may pray for pardon, and yet have no affection for the Savior!
He may fear Hell, and yet have no fitness for Heaven.
Now, in such circumstances, and with these feelings, he may vow unto the Lord, that, if he is spared, he will lead a new life, and devote himself to God’s service. And if, on his recovery, he shows by his conduct that he has forgotten, or that he is now unwilling to perform his vows — what other conclusion can we entertain concerning him, than that he either never had a right and scriptural view of the nature and extent of that holy obedience which the Gospel enjoins, or that he is justly chargeable with an insincere and hypocritical profession. Is it not one of the plainest principles of morals that a man making a lawful vow even to his fellow men, is bound to fulfill it; and if it be not fulfilled, is it the less a proof of guilt, or is that guilt less flagrant and aggravated, by reason of its being made, not to man — but to God?
(6.) Let it be considered, that unfulfilled vows are a sad preparation for our dying hour. That solemn hour must sooner or later arrive. Our present recovery is a brief respite — and nothing more. We have been at the gates of death — and have been brought back for a little season. But to these gates we must infallibly return — our feet must yet stumble on the dark mountains — our tabernacle, now restored, must yet crumble into dust. The hour of death is certainly before us — and oh! what a fearful burden must our unfulfilled vows lay upon our conscience when that hour arrives!
Then we may expect that the same solemn impressions, the same deep convictions, the same conflict between hope and fear, will be experienced by us again, as were felt during the pressure of our former distress — unless, indeed, our hearts shall by that time have become hard, and our consciences seared as with a hot iron. And if the same convictions and impressions are then reawakened in our souls — how must they be embittered by the recollection . . .
of vows unfulfilled,
of resolutions violated,
of afflictions misimproved,
of time misspent,
of warnings despised,
of judgment and mercy alike neglected and abused?
True, even in such a case, and at the eleventh hour, the blood of Christ, and the grace of his Spirit, are all-sufficient to save. But through what a fearful conflict may such a mind pass, before it arrives at settled peace and hope. A great change must be wrought upon it, such a change as will humble it in the very dust, and make it bewail its every sin, and especially its broken vows! And oh! surely so great a change should not be left to a dying hour, when life is so uncertain, and when every day we spend in carelessness or disobedience is treasuring up for us, if not wrath against the day of wrath — yet bitterness and trials for our bitterest and most trying hour.
These considerations may suffice to show that it is the duty of believers to remember and perform the vows which they have made unto the Lord in the day of trouble, and that they cannot forget or violate them without incurring the most aggravated guilt.
They should be performed without delay, "When you make a vow to God, do not delay in fulfilling it. He has no pleasure in fools; fulfill your vow. It is better not to vow than to make a vow and not fulfill." (Ecclesiastes 5:4-5.) And they should be performed cheerfully, not in the spirit of bondage — but from a principle of love, and in token of gratitude. It is not the mere obligation of the vow which should be regarded — for a man may vow, and afterwards regret that he had done so, and adhere to his pledge in a slavish and servile spirit — such as has nothing in common with the spirit of childlike obedience. But the believer, considering that his holy resolutions and engagements embraced duties which were incumbent on him by divine authority, independently of any act of his own, will perform them cheerfully, from a principle of dutiful submission, and in token of his gratitude and love. His experience of the Lord’s faithfulness in the time of trouble, and of his undeserved mercy in delivering him by his mighty power — will afford ample materials for praise. And it is in the spirit of praise, that he will perform his vows. He will seek to glorify God, as did the Psalmist, partly by direct acts of thanksgiving, partly also by testifying to others what God had wrought, and calling them to unite with him in admiring God’s faithfulness, and wisdom, and love. "Come and hear, all you who fear God, and I will declare what he has done for my soul." (Psalms 66:16.) "I will extol you, O Lord, for you have lifted me up; and have not made my foes to rejoice over me. O Lord my God, I cried unto you, and you have healed me. O Lord, you have brought up my soul from the grave — you have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit." (Psalms 30:1-3.) "You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to you, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto you forever." (Psalms 30:11.)
"A writing of Hezekiah king of Judah after his illness and recovery: I said, "In the prime of my life must I go through the gates of death and be robbed of the rest of my years?" I said, "I will not again see the LORD, the LORD, in the land of the living; no longer will I look on mankind, or be with those who now dwell in this world. Like a shepherd’s tent my house has been pulled down and taken from me. Like a weaver I have rolled up my life, and he has cut me off from the loom; day and night you made an end of me. I waited patiently till dawn, but like a lion he broke all my bones; day and night you made an end of me. I cried like a swift or thrush, I moaned like a mourning dove. My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens. I am troubled; O Lord, come to my aid!" But what can I say? He has spoken to me, and he himself has done this. I will walk humbly all my years because of this anguish of my soul. Lord, by such things men live; and my spirit finds life in them too. You restored me to health and let me live. Surely it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish. In your love you kept me from the pit of destruction; you have put all my sins behind your back. For the grave cannot praise you, death cannot sing your praise; those who go down to the pit cannot hope for your faithfulness. The living, the living — they praise you, as I am doing today; fathers tell their children about your faithfulness. The LORD will save me, and we will sing with stringed instruments all the days of our lives in the temple of the LORD." (Isaiah 38:9-20.)