Though it seems like such a simple concept, repentance sometimes seems like such a foreign and strange word. Even with Christians there are many, many moments when repentance becomes such an unknown thing. May it be because of being far too familiar with the principle or not hearing much of it, whatever it may be, there are very few things that would compare to the acute heart-pain that arises when one realizes and says, “Why can’t I repent?”

We can use so many words and illustrations to paint this picture of true holiness and godliness before many a feeble saint, but still there are many a time when the reality of repentance would bid little true in a person’s heart.

What is it in a man, though he sits under teaching of what it means to be a Christian all the while confessing Christ,that he still obstinately falls into sin and finds little victory over it?

What is it in a man, though he is given assurance of salvation, where the evidence of which is that he does struggle over sin, he cannot overcome his besetting sins?

I heard a story once of an old dying man. This story was not that fanciful, neither was it a story that recounts the countless acts of valor by a dying saint, instead it was a short and plain story. A story that broke my heart. On the old man’s death bed he asked his pastor to visit him. The pastor came, he prayed for the dying man.  And the man began to speak. What came out of the man’s lips were not words that spoke of a victorious Christian life that longs to hear his dear Master say: “Good and faithful servant, enter in to the joy of your Master.” Rather, with trembling lips and with tears ready to stream from his eyes, he said, “I never really overcame sin.”

What a terribly tragic thing it is that most of us will lay on our deathbeds with those same words escaping our lips. I pray it won’t be for you. As much as I pray that the Lord would continue His work in me too.

But, it is one of the most painful things in life to stand helpless against the bondage of sin.

But, dear reader, it must not be so. It must not be so.

He breaks the power of cancelled sin.
He sets the prisoner free.
His blood can make the foulest clean.
His blood availed for me.

How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? (Romans 6:2-3) I’m sure you know this passage far too well, dear reader. But do you know what it really means? Have you truly learned what Paul meant when he continued on saying, “For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit” (Romans 8:5)?

Do you know what it means to live in the Spirit of God? Have you been in the academy of the Sovereign King and have this truth be burned into your heart of hearts? Reader, live according to the Spirit!

What does it mean to live according to the Spirit? Ah, it means no less but to live in utter dependence to Him. Just as the Lord, Christ Jesus spoke of those who enter the kingdom of God, where only those who are as a child can enter (Luke 18:17), such that it is only by virtue of grace and grace alone that any can enter Heaven, so too it is by His Spirit and His Spirit alone can anyone overcome sin.

Pray that the Lord would teach you this blessed truth! That you may know in the fullness of this truth of what it means to be in utter, total and radical dependence upon God!

Sometimes it’s far too easy to speak of the principle and yet have a great disconnect in the application of truth. But, dear heart, here is the application of this truth, give up! Give up! Stop forcing your flesh to overcome sin. Mortification of sin cannot be achieved by mere mental apprehension, neither by physical restriction and flagellation. Mortification can be attained by surrendering.

Have you surrendered, reader? Have you given up all self-willing? All self-righteousness? All self-power? If so, heed the same words spoken to the Apostle Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you.”

Confess utter dependence to God in His grace even in the face of the greatest of all temptations! Confess it dear soul. And herein I pray, that you may see the joyful reality when God declares through the apostle: “For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace.” (Romans 6:14)

It is one thing though to find the great importance of a surrendering faith. But this is not to say that it is a faith that doesn’t fight and make war, a fatalistic faith that waits on grace. See, true war against sin is but the disarmament of fleshly devices and fleshly trust. It is the beginning of picking up and depending on mighty sovereign grace. A conscious confession of the soul that apart from God’s grace you will at that time of great temptation fall into great sin. A conscious confession that by His grace sin can be finally mortified. A putting on of the armor of God. (Ephesians 6:10-18)

I am well aware though that there too are many times when this battle becomes wearisome. We labor much to cast all self to God, in good dependence to Him, yes that is a sight of victory, but then the heart goes weary. It begins to ask questions. “Isn’t what I’ve done enough?”, “Can’t I fall into this one little sin?”, “Just for a little while?”.

Aye, what a terrible thing it is that we would even begin to bargain good with evil. It’s insanity, in every sense of the word. And there again Holy Writ shouts aloud: “How can we who died to sin still live in it?!” How can we, having seen the grave blackness of the depths of sin still consider it?!

Ah, I’m convinced that both this weariness and double-mindedness arises from losing delight in the Lord. It simply is not enough to be able to surrender our fleshly desires. It simply is not enough to depend on surrendering faith to grace. For what else can cause us to gird up our loins and move on in all our might in this Pilgrim’s flight than an all-surpassing love for God?! A vision of His beauty and majesty. An overwhelming delight in Him and His person.

The doctrine of the Cross can be used to slay sin, even as the old warriors used their huge two-handed swords and mowed down their foes at every stroke. There is nothing like faith in the sinners’ Friend; it overcomes all evil.

If Christ has died for me, ungodly as I am, without strength as I am, then I cannot live in sin any longer.

I must arouse myself to love and serve Him who has redeemed me.

I cannot trifle with the evil that killed my best Friend.

I must be holy for His sake. How can I live in sin when He has died to save me from it?

There was a day, as I took my walks abroad, when I came near a spot forever engraved on my memory. There I saw this Friend, my best, my only Friend, murdered. I stooped down in sad alarm and looked at Him. I saw that His hands had been pierced with rough, iron nails, and His feet had been torn in the same way.

There was misery in His dead countenance so terrible that I hardly dared to look at it. His body was emaciated with hunger. His back was red with bloody scourges. His brow had a circle of wounds about it; clearly, His brow had been pierced by thorns.

I shuddered, for I had known this Friend very well. He never had a fault; He was the purest of the pure, the holiest of the holy. Who could have injured Him? He never injured any man. All His life He “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38). He had healed the sick; He had fed the hungry; He had raised the dead. For which of these works did they kill Him? He had never breathed out anything but love.

As I looked into the poor, sorrowful face, so full of agony and yet so full of love, I wondered who could have been a wretch so vile as to pierce hands like His. I said to myself, “Where can these traitors live? Who are these who could have killed such a One as this?”

Had they murdered an oppressor, we might have forgiven them. Had they slain one who had indulged in vice or villainy, it might have been his just desert. Had it been a murderer or one who had started a revolt, we would have said, “Bury his corpse; justice has at last given him his due.”

However, when You were slain, my Best, my only Beloved, where lodged the traitors? Let me seize them, and they will be put to death. If there are torments that I can devise, surely they will endure them all. Oh, what jealousy, what revenge I felt! If I could only find these murderers, what I would do to them!

As I looked at that corpse, I heard a footstep, and I wondered where it came from. I listened, and I clearly perceived that the murderer was close at hand. It was dark, and I groped about to find him. I found that, somehow or other, wherever I put out my hand, I could not grab him, for he was nearer to me than my hand would go.

At last, I put my hand on my own breast. “I have you now,” said I.

Yes, he was in my own heart.

The murderer was hiding within my own bosom, dwelling in the recesses of my inmost soul.

Ah, then I wept indeed that I, in the very presence of my murdered Master, would be harboring the murderer. While I bowed over His corpse, I felt that I was very guilty, and I sang that plaintive hymn:

’Twas you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.

Amid the mob that hounded the Redeemer to His doom, there were some gracious souls whose bitter anguish sought vent in wailing and lamentations—fit music to accompany that march of woe. When my soul can, in imagination, see the Savior bearing His cross to Calvary, it joins the godly women and weeps with them.

Indeed, there is true cause for grief—cause lying deeper than those mourning women thought. They bewailed innocence mistreated, goodness persecuted, love bleeding, meekness about to die; but my heart has a deeper and more bitter cause to mourn.

My sins were the scourges that lacerated those blessed shoulders; they crowned those bleeding brows with thorns.

My sins cried, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” and laid the cross upon His gracious shoulders.

His being led forth to die is sorrow enough for one eternity; but my having been His murderer is more, infinitely more, grief than one poor fountain of tears can express.

Why those women loved and wept, it is not hard to guess, but they could not have had greater reasons for love and grief than my heart has.

The widow of Nain saw her son restored (Luke 7:11-15), but I myself have been raised to newness of life.

Peter’s mother-in-law was cured of the fever (Matthew 8:14-15), but I of the greater plague of sin.

Out of Mary Magdalene seven devils were cast (Mark 16:9), but a whole legion out of me.

Mary and Martha were favored with visits from Him (John 11:19-45), but He dwells with me.

His mother bore His body, but He is formed in me, “the hope of glory” (Col. 1:27).

Not being behind the holy women in debt, let me not be behind them in gratitude or sorrow.

Love and grief my heart dividing,
With my tears His feet I’ll lave;
Constant still in heart abiding,
Weep for Him who died to save.

—C. H. Spurgeonⁱ

This is Part 3 of a series of posts on Spurgeon’s recollection of his conversion. Read the other parts here: My Conversion

The video below has blessed me so much, so, so much to finally understand these things. As dear Spurgeon would say, “I perhaps have heard it over and over throughout the years, but finally, by His grace, eyes that were once blind now see, ears that were once deaf now hear, and a hear that was once obstinately self-seeking/self-glorying now seeks to empty all of self that Christ alone may reign.”

And I pray that we may soon truly confess: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” (Galatians 2:20)

Footnotes

1. (2000). My Conversion (electronic ed.) (15). Escondito, California: Ephesians Four Group. [↩]