1. Attaining Confidence in the Love of Christ
Alexander Stewart
The inhabitants of the Highlands have the Scriptures in Gaelic, their native tongue. The New Testament, the Book of Psalms,[2] and The Shorter Catechism have been long read in the schools. By these means the people in this part of the country had some knowledge of the principal events in the history of the creation and fall of man, and of the Saviour’s life, death, resurrection and ascension. They knew also some of the outlines of Christian doctrine, but in general their knowledge of the principles of Christianity was superficial and confused, and their religious opinions were erroneous in many important points.
Very few indeed knew the way in which the gospel informs us that a sinner may be reconciled to God. The opinion of their own works recommending them to the favour of God, and procuring a reward from His bounty, was almost universal. It showed itself in their ordinary speech, in their common remarks on more solemn occasions, and in almost every religious sentiment that was uttered. Their apprehensions of the demerit and consequences of sin were exceedingly defective. I have heard many on a sickbed – after acknowledging in common form that they were sinners – deny that they ever did any ill. And in the view of death they have derived their hopes of future happiness from the reflection that they had never wronged any person. Very few seemed to attach any meaning to their words when they said that they expected pardon for Christ’s sake.
Being without the true knowledge of God, of Christ, of the gospel, of their own character and state, they lived – as might be expected – to themselves and to the world. They were not indeed addicted to open vice, if we except lying and swearing. They were rather distinguished for sobriety, industry and peaceable behaviour, but they were destitute of religious principle. Men may love and adore an unseen God, but they cannot love or serve an unknown God. They may dread pain or death or eternal misery, but that is not to fear God. Our people were strangers alike to the true fear and the true love of God. They had evidently little concern about the present or the future state of their souls. They attended church, partook of the sacraments, and rested from their work on the Sabbath. But these outward observances were almost the only appearance of religion. There was little reading of the Scriptures at home, little religious instructing of children, hardly any family worship, no religious conversation, no labour of any kind “for the meat which endureth unto everlasting life”. Even on the Lord’s Day, most of the time was spent in loitering, visiting and worldly talk, and on other days religion was scarcely thought of.
In narrating the means by which the people were brought to pay more serious attention to their eternal interests, it is necessary to say something of my own case. I was settled minister of this parish in 1786, at the age of 22. Although I was not a despiser of what was sacred, I felt nothing of the power of religion on my soul. I had no relish for its exercises, nor any enjoyment in the duties of my office, public or private. A regard to character, and the desire of being acceptable to my people, if not the only motives, were certainly the principal motives, that prompted me to any measure of diligence.
I was quite well pleased when a diet of catechising was ill attended, because my work was over sooner; and I was always satisfied with the reflection that, if people were not able or did not choose to attend on these occasions, that was no fault of mine. I well remember that I often hurried over that exercise with a good deal of impatience, to get home to join a dancing party or read a sentimental novel. My public addresses and prayers were for the most part cold and formal. They were little regarded by the hearers at the time, and as little recollected afterwards. I preached against particular vices and promoted particular virtues. But I had no notion of the necessity of a radical change of principle, for I had not learned the meaning of those assertions of Scripture: “The carnal mind is enmity against God”; “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature”; and, “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God”. I spoke of making the fruit good, but I was not aware that the tree was corrupt, and must itself first be made good, before it could bear good fruit.
The people, however, were satisfied with what they heard, and neither they nor I looked further. Almost the only remark made by anyone on the discourse, after leaving church, was, “What a good sermon we got today!” to which another would coldly assent, adding, “Many good advices do we get, if we did but follow them”. Such a heartless compliment was all the use made of the discourse and, I believe, all the fruit of my preaching. The hearers readily gave me credit for a desire to do my duty, and they as readily took credit to themselves for a willingness to be taught their duty. But whether any improvement was actually taking place, or whether there was any increase of the fruits of righteousness, was what gave neither minister nor people much concern.
If there was anyone in the parish at that time who lived a life of faith, under the influence of pure evangelical principles, I did not know them, nor was I qualified to discern and understand what spirit they were of. I have since had reason to believe that there were a very few spiritually-minded persons, but their life was hidden and all but one or two of them had left this world before they could acknowledge me as a brother. I was in a great measure ignorant of the doctrines of Christianity: the corruption of the human will, the fullness and freeness of the redemption which is in Christ, justification by faith, and the necessity of the Holy Spirit’s work on the human soul. And what I knew not myself, I could not declare to others.
I never thought of praying for God’s direction in my search after divine truth. I believe I had read the Confession of Faith of our Church before I declared my belief of its contents, but I had taken little pains to compare it with the Scriptures. I certainly did not distinctly understand many propositions contained in it, nor was I at all convinced of the truth of them. Yet I do not remember that I had any scruples about subscribing it as the confession of my faith, or about declaring my assent to it solemnly in the presence of the congregation whereof I was about to take the pastoral charge.
While I was yet ignorant of the truth and unacquainted with Christian experience, two persons applied to me for advice who were under conviction of sin and terrors of conscience. They supposed that a minister must of course be a man of God, and skilled in administering remedies for the diseases of the soul. They were widely mistaken in their judgement of me, for I had learned less of the practice than of the theory of pastoral duty. I said something to them in the way of advice, but it brought them no relief. They were, however, under the care of the good Physician. He applied His own balm to their wounded spirits and healed and bade them live. Being progressively and effectually taught of God, they are both now established, judicious Christians. These are the first that appear to have been converted since I came to Moulin, but they cannot be reckoned the fruits of my ministry.
The Lord was now preparing to gather to Himself a fuller harvest in this place. He might have removed me out of the way as a useless encumbrance, or rather an intervening obstacle, and subjected me to the doom of the unprofitable servant. But He was graciously pleased to spare me and visit me in mercy, and even to employ me as one of His instruments in carrying on His own work. Glory to His name, who commanded light to shine out of darkness! The writings of pious men which were put into my hands by one or another Christian friend were made the means of making me acquainted with the truths of the gospel. Among these I may mention the works of John Newton and Thomas Scott as eminently useful to me. I was slow in receiving the doctrines maintained by these writers. By degrees, however, I was persuaded that they were agreeable to Scripture and that no doubt they must be admitted as true.
I therefore did not dare preach anything which I conceived to be directly contrary to these doctrines, but I brought them forward rarely, incorrectly and with awkward hesitation. The trumpet was sounded, but it gave an “uncertain sound”. My preaching now consisted of a mixed kind of doctrine. I taught that human nature is corrupt and needs to be purified, that righteousness cannot come by the law, that we cannot be justified in the sight of God by our own works; that we can be justified only by the righteousness of Christ, imputed to us and received by faith. But in explaining the nature of saving faith, I conceived it as including many of its effects – not only a cordial acceptance of the plan of redemption by a Mediator but also ardent gratitude to God our Saviour on account of that redemption, devotedness to His service, good will to our brethren of mankind – in a word, every pious and benevolent disposition of heart. I thought and taught that, on possessing this faith, we should, because of it, have an interest in the redemption purchased by Christ and consequently be accepted by God and rewarded as righteous persons.
Thus I arrived at the same point from which I had set out, still resting a sinner’s acceptance with God on the conformity of His will to God’s law or, in other words, on the merit of His good dispositions. Thus I endeavoured to establish a human righteousness under the name of faith in Jesus Christ. It was plain indeed that this conformity of the will to God’s law could be imperfect in this life; yet, imperfect as it was, it must, as I saw it, be the ground of our acceptance with God.
Here I stumbled on that stumbling-stone of sincere obedience, in substance at least, if not in so many words. Imagining, like many in whose writings I have since met with that opinion, that the great favour procured to men by Christ’s sufferings and mediation was a relaxation of God’s law, and that an imperfect obedience, dignified with the name of sincere, was all that was now required. But this was “another gospel”, which could never be owned by God as the gospel of His Son, nor accompanied by that sanctifying power which belongs exclusively to the truth. If it set any of my people on thinking, it only bewildered and misled them. They remained, as before, unenlightened and unchanged.
The biographical sketches in the Evangelical Magazine were principal means of impressing my heart, of opening my eyes to perceive the truth, of exciting a love to godliness and a desire after usefulness. The power of divine grace appeared illustrious in the composure, the joy, the triumph with which many pious Christians left the world. I saw their triumphant hope supported, not by a complacent reflection on a well-spent life, but by a confidence in the unmerited love of Christ and in His power and willingness to save even the chief of sinners. I was particularly struck with the account of ministers who had laboured with much diligence and success and had died at an early period of life, full of good fruits; while I, who had already lived longer and been longer in the ministry than they, could not say that I had taken any pains with my people, nor that I had been the means of reclaiming one sinner from the error of His way or of saving one soul from death.
The conversation and example of some persons of a truly spiritual mind to whose acquaintance I was admitted, and who exhibited to my view what I found only described in written memoirs, conducted much to impress on my mind the truths with which I was gradually becoming more acquainted. I may also mention the blessing I enjoyed in the preaching, the prayers and the conversation of that much-favoured servant of Christ, Charles Simeon, of King’s College, Cambridge. He was a man sent from God to me, was my guest for two days in June 1796, preached in my church, and left a savour of the things of God which has remained with us ever since.
[1]Reprinted, with editing, from The Free Presbyterian Magazine for 1913. It was written in 1800 in the form of a letter to David Black of Edinburgh and published as Account of a Revival of Religion in the Highlands. Stewart was then parish minister of Moulin, of which Pitlochry is the main town, but later minister of Dingwall and of the Canongate church in Edinburgh. He speaks of “written notes” by which his memory was assisted in writing the letter, of which this article is the first part. Stewart’s son, also Alexander, was minister of Cromarty and author of The Tree of Promise (reprinted by Free Presbyterian Publications).
[2]Editor’s note: These are the Psalms in metre; the complete Old Testament in Scottish Gaelic was only published in 1801. Stewart himself was involved in the work of translation.