Preaching-Proof People by Professor William C. Wilkinson

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Dec 17, 1885

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 11, No. 48.

Preaching-Proof People.

By Professor William C. Wilkinson

It was a powerful and thorough sermon, from the lips of a man naturally gifted in speech, and speaking, besides, under the inspiration and guidance of the omnipotent Spirit of God. What was the effect produced? The record is in Acts 24. Felix trembled,—was excessively frightened, as it might properly be rendered. He felt, then, it appears, the force and aim of the apostle's preaching. He indeed acknowledged and proclaimed, by his change of countenance and tremor of body, that he had an apprehension of the truth, and of the importance and the individual applicability of what he heard. So sudden and surprising and overwhelming was his conviction of guilt, and so vivid and awful the momentary glimpse that he caught, as by a short, sharp lightning-flash, of the judgment-throne of Christ and the retributions of the eternal state, that he could not control his agitation. Ashamed, as he must have been, of betraying his weakness in the presence of his queen, and doubly ashamed to confess the influence which the words of a prisoner and a barbarian and a Jew had brought upon him, he nevertheless lost command of himself, and visibly trembled.

Prodigious effect! We should say that it could, by no possibility, have terminated there. A conscience so thoroughly aroused, it cannot be will lapse back into slumber and security again. That awakened and terrified sinner will surely repent, and cry out like the jailer, “What must I do to be saved?” He saw that he was a lost soul; it was revealed to him unmistakably in that hour. He will shout aloud for mercy; it will be a moment of victory for God and of joy in Heaven. Not so. Quickly recovering his self-control, and endeavoring to restore his features to their natural expression, he interrupts the speaker. Doubtless his voice faltered a little, but he said: “Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.”

Well, convenient seasons came frequently, after that, during the two years that Felix resided at Cæsarea. The narrative of Luke recounts that Paul and Felix met repeatedly in mutual conference. The circumstances and incidents of these subsequent interviews are left by the historian wholly to conjecture. In the absence, however, of any hint tending in that direction, we are not at liberty to suppose that Felix was ever again moved, to any remarkable degree, by the arguments and appeals of Paul. It is altogether probable that he listened to him, after that day in the judgment hall, with perfect self-possession, and a calm and intelligent curiosity. That, no doubt, had been the crisis of his eternal destiny. His decision was final, irreversible, eternal. He was not visited with any wish or thought of changing it. He was reprobate. Paul's gospel was hid—hid to one that was lost. Satan had chosen Felix long before, and now Felix chose Satan. The Holy Spirit gave him up. Alas, Felix!

The case of the text is frequently quoted and alluded to as representing the conduct of the impenitent man who puts aside the importunities of the Holy Spirit, and afterward dies suddenly, thus suddenly ending his earthly probation. But to my mind, there is something inexpressibly more mournful in the thought of one who, like Felix, delays submission to God, and then week after week, month after month, year after year, comes to the place of worship, as Felix entered into conversation with Paul, and hears and sees as if he heard and saw not; the convenient season constantly recurring, Sabbaths dawning and setting, the weeks and months and years moving him steadily onward towards eternity, but no voice breaking the frightful silence of his soul, no light discovering to his view the scenes that hide in the eternal darkness before him.

Is there such a soul in the circle of our acquaintances and friends? We start at the very thought. Is he who touches your side, as you sit together in the house of God, such a one? Is your pupil, your partner in business, your brother, your sister, your parent, your husband, your wife, your child? Vain questions! We cannot answer them, we would not answer them; but they will be answered at the judgment seat of Christ.

The lessons which are to be learned from the subject that we have been considering, are so obvious that they scarcely need to be formally presented. But they are, at the same time, so important that they cannot be omitted.

In the first place, we see that preaching, no matter how pungent and powerful, will not save a soul. The place might be dark, almost, with the shadow of the hovering Spirit; the preacher's words might fall upon a silence like the silence of the grave; the hearers might tremble with the eternal fear,—and still, and still no soul be saved. It is not by might nor by power. Not apostolic, not Pauline eloquence can do it. Sinners must not, therefore, hear the preaching of the gospel with the idea in their minds that preaching will finally save them. No sermon, however convincing, from any text, however appropriate, will effect the work. If such an impression is forming itself in the thought of any person that reads these words, let me warn you, dear, dear friend, it is false. It is one of Satan's lies. There is no hope for you but in resisting him at every point. His wiles are innumerable and inconceivably dangerous. The watchword is “Resist.”

In the second place, we may learn, from the consideration of this subject, that a state of anxiety about the condition of the soul is not a state of safety. There is sometimes a vague, half-formed conviction in the mind of an awakened sinner, that his feelings of distress and anxiety are an assurance of his security. The example of Felix teaches to the contrary. Here were emotions of terror and solicitude poignant in the extreme. But Felix was lost. In truth, the right consideration of the subject teaches that the period during which a convicted sinner is full of mental anguish and fearful forebodings, instead of being a period of safety, is one of the most imminent peril. If ever they that watch for souls as those that must give account, may lie sleepless at night, and wonder and agonize and pray with wasting anxiety, it is when there are awakened sinners in their congregations. Oh, the terrible, the infernal, energy and cunning with which Satan besets them! How shall his malignity be baffled? Let none, then, derive any sense of security from the fact that they are anxious about their souls. The moment of the greatest anxiety is precisely the moment of the greatest danger.

How clearly, now that the occasion is so remote in time, do we perceive the folly of the decision of Felix and Drusilla! The little motives, the trifling considerations, which intervened to influence them,—these are all of them dismissed from our minds, and we think only of the dreadful folly of their choice. It cost Paul a struggle to be faithful that day; but the struggle was brief, and the reward is endless. It took only a moment for Felix to say, “Go thy way for this time;” but it will take him long to be sorry that he said it.—Professor William C. Wilkinson, D. D., LL. D., in Sunday School Times.