“Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.”—John 6: 37.
In no wise! How broad is the door of welcome! “God,” says a holy writer, “is like one on his knees with tears in his eyes and extreme fervor in his soul, beseeching the sinner to be saved.” He met the prodigal son half-way. Ere the ungrateful wanderer could stammer forth, through penitential tears the confession of his sins, the arms of mercy were around him. The prodigal thought of no more than the menial’s place; the father had in readiness the best robe and the fatted calf. “There is no such argument,” says Bishop Reynolds, “for our turning to God, as his turning to us.” He has the first word in the overtures of mercy. He refuses none, he welcomes all; the poor, the wretched, the blind, the naked, the burdened, the heavy-laden, the hardened sinner, the aged sinner, the daring sinner, the dying sinner—all are invited to the conference: “Come now and let us reason together.” The most parched tongue, that laps the streams from the smitten rock, has everlasting life. “When we forgive, it costs us an effort; when God forgives, it is his delight.” From the battlements of heaven he is calling after us: “Turn ye! turn ye! Why will ye die?” He seems to wonder if sinners have pleasure in their own death. He declares, “I have none.”
My soul, hast thou yet closed with the gospel’s free invitations? Have you gone, just as you are, with all the raggedness of nature’s garments, standing in your own nothingness, feeling that you are insolvent, that you have “nothing to pay,” already a bankrupt and the debt always increasing? Have you taken hold of that blessed assurance, “He is able to save unto the uttermost?” Are you resting your eternal all on him, who has done all and suffered all for you, leaving you, “without money and without price,” a free, full, unconditional offer of a great salvation?
Say not your sins are too many, the crimson dye too deep. It is because you are a great sinner, and have great sins, that you need a great Saviour. “Of whom I am chief,” is a golden postscript to “the faithful saying.”
Do not dishonor God by casting doubts on his ability or willingness. If your sins are heinous, you will be all the greater monument of grace. You may be the weakest and unworthiest of vessels; but, remember, there was a niche in the temple for great and for small, for “vessels of cups,” as well as for “vessels of flagons.” Aye, and the smallest vessel glorifies Christ.
Arise, then, and call upon thy God! We cannot say, with the king of Nineveh, “Who can tell if God will turn?” He is “turning” now; importunately pleading and averring on his own immutable word, that he “will in no wise cast out.” “Though ye have lien among the pots, ye shall be as doves, whose wings are covered with silver, and their feathers with yellow gold.” Close without delay with these precious invitations, that so looking up to a reconciled God and Father in heaven, you may even this night say: “I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.”