by Rev. Hugh Martin, D.D.
Montrose, 17th March, 1880.
My Dear Friend, — Your last letter pleased me much, with the exception of one sentence in which you say “I wish I could believe that God was as favourably disposed towards me as you are.” You will next be saying, in the supremacy of your theological attainments, “I wish I could believe that God was as wise and as good as you are.” Now, why am I doomed to be thus always affectionately finding fault with you? Suppose that my letters are, as you say, “cheering and helpful,” are they not very far from being “good and perfect?” You know well that “every good and perfect gift cometh down alone from above, from the Father of Lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”
Why are you still “off and on” in this way? Why ever saying — “I could not take this, I would not presume to believe that, I fear such and such a promise of the Word was not meant for me.” Who was it meant for, if not for you and the like of you? We read that “it is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acception, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” and if I say “that’s for me, that suits me — a sinner — a chief sinner,” would you take the bread of life out of my mouth and say, “No, that’s not meant for you.” Well, if you would scarcely do so to me, why do it to yourself? Do you think God is honoured thereby? Far otherwise; for if we are not, as sinners, to bring our needs and our wants alongside the promises of God in His word, and plead their fulfilment to our own special case, I do not know for what reason He has put these promises in His Word, or how else we are to get the benefit of them? O! it’s a grand thing to gather up, as it were, everything — everything — all that we are and have been and have done, as lost, self-destroyed sinners, and all that we need that Christ should do for us; and lay the weight of all, over on the grace and faithfulness of the promise that tells of a Saviour to the uttermost, and give that promise a fair trial, and see if it will bear us, and all our weight of sin and guilt, of helplessness and misery. For the promise was not to Abraham and his seed through the righteousness of the law, but through the righteousness of faith; and if they which are of the law be heirs, then faith is made void and the promise made of none effect. “Faith made void and the promise made of none effect” — what a collapse! Then all from Abraham downward who have relied on the promise have their foundation taken away, and heaven is made empty if the promise is made of none effect. It need not now be asked — “Who are these that are arrayed in white robes, and whence came they?” but “whither are they gone?” Also these holy beings who never sinned, but who stand confirmed by the Word of the Lord, they may call on the rocks to pity them and fall on them, for if the promise is made of none effect their foundation is insecure and uncertain. But these are only creatures placed in jeopardy, but what of the unchanging Jehovah, our Lord and our God? What of Him? Is His Word, by which the heavens were of old and by which all things consist, is His Word to go out in smoke and to vanish into eternal falsehood? For so it would be if faith is made void and the promise made of none effect. “Oh!” you say, “these are terrible thoughts.” Not more terrible than true, for if we are to contemplate faith made void and the promise made of none effect, we must contemplate all the consequences that would relentlessly follow thereupon. If there were reason to doubt by one hair’s breadth the veracity of that Word which upholdeth all things in heaven and in earth, if there were reason to suspect by one jot or by one tittle that faith would be made void and the promise made of none effect, there were equal reason to assume the eclipse and collapse of all that glory of God which by His unalterable Word He has manifested and made known. But blessed for ever be He who hath said — “The Scripture cannot be broken. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My Word shall never pass away.”
Somehow I cannot help thinking that the time is not far off when it will please the Lord to batter and break down these secret nooks and corners of unbelief that you are too fond of hiding in, to bring you out from these false refuges that you are too fond of sheltering in, and to make you see that they will never do. It is when we are hunted out from every vain confidence that we are fitted to hear the Lord’s declaration of free saving mercy, and to listen with silent adoring wonder to such gracious avowals as this — “I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn thee.” “Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice, for sweet is thy voice and thy countenance is comely.” And should her disconsolate countenance be that day blurred and blotted with tears — as well it may be — and should her voice be broken and discordant — as indeed it is — yet when Christ’s voice is heard in accents of grace and love, her countenance will be no more sad but will be worthwhile even for Him to look upon, and her voice will be no more songless but will be worthwhile even for Him to listen to, for all that is within her shall that day leap for joy; and there shall be none in heaven or in earth to hinder her, yea, not a voice raised even in hell to say “What doest thou?”
Somehow, as I said, I think this day is not very far off. Go away then and seek it, and plead for it on the ground of Christ’s own promise — “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” — Yours, &c.
Hugh Martin.