Chapter 10

Chapter 10 The joy of salvation In the remarks already made, it has been implied, as the reader will perceive, that he who rejoices in God is one who is through Divine mercy reconciled to him. In one word, he is in a state of salvation. This new relation which the soul sustains to its Creator and Sovereign, is the grand source of its highest felicities; and the consciousness of this change, together with the exercises which grow out of it, afford the most heartfelt joy. This is the joy of salvation.

It is this great change, together with the effects of it on the heart and life, on the hopes and prospects, which distinguishes the truly pious from those who are unconverted. To know what this change is, and properly to appreciate its benign effects in the production of human happiness, it is necessary personally to experience it. "The natural man," says Paul, "receives not the things of the Spirit of God."

Let those, then, speak of the blessedness of this state, who through Divine grace have enjoyed it; and let none question the truth of their testimony, nor the sincerity of their professions. The very term, salvation, implies subject matter for joy and praise. But the depth of the emotion must depend, in some degree, on the amount of evil from which the soul perceives itself to be rescued. If a man is delivered from a state of mere ignorance, he will naturally rejoice in the change. Now, if the gospel simply revealed a clearer dispensation, and unfolded some new moral motives—it would cause, in a mind anxious to acquire pious knowledge, a spring of fresh delight. But it will be seen that, in this case, nothing more is conceded to the gospel than an increase of moral light. The joy, therefore, if real, cannot be as deep as it will be according to another and more scriptural view, which we present.

Suppose the individual, in addition to being in a state of ignorance, to be also in a state of guilt and condemnation. He mourns, not only that he is in darkness, but that he is in the "bonds of iniquity." He finds within an "evil heart of unbelief," a "heart of stone," a deep-seated alienation from God, which, according to the principles of the Divine government, renders him liable to everlasting death; God has actually passed upon him already the sentence of condemnation. The individual, we say, has a conviction of all this, which mars every earthly pleasure, and fixes his thoughts intensely on his doom. It is a conviction which saddens and depresses the soul, and incapacitates it for the enjoyment of those things which the world covets and esteems. Now mark, this is not piety; but a deep sense of the need of it. The indiscriminate observer sometimes confounds this initial state of anxiety with piety. It is, however, only conviction; and we do not pretend there is any joy in such a state of mind. But, as the sun shines the brighter when the dark cloud is broken, and the rumbling thunders are dying away in the distance, so the soul that flies terror-struck from Mount Sinai, and comes in view of the cross of Calvary, rejoices the more from the impressive contrast of its emotions.

It is at the point of transition that we wish to contemplate it; when it comes "out of darkness into God’s marvelous light." In proportion to the depth of these convictions, and the evils which they respect, must be the joy of deliverance. But who can measure these emotions; or what mind, but one which has felt them, can understand the oppressive nature of these convictions! Various and striking are the emblems used in Scripture to denote this wretchedness from which the sinner, by the gospel salvation, is delivered. It is called a "horrible pit—a state of darkness." The soul is said to be "lost;" to be under "condemnation;" a prisoner in fetters; "dead in sin;’ "sold under sin." Such are some of the scriptural representations of our old state, in which we are previous to this great change which brings the joy of salvation. Every true Christian has felt deeply and practically the truth of these representations. He has been bound under the burden of sin. No incarcerated victim ever felt more keenly the darkness and damps of his dungeon. No galley-slave ever sighed more bitterly under the weight of his chains. No wounded deer ever panted with keener anguish under the barbed shaft. It is in vain to attempt a sketch of the sinner’s convictions, as he comes in full view of a violated law, an offended God, and an abused gospel. But deep as are these sorrows, and dreadful as is this darkness, they are the measure of that joy of salvation which follows; and if we failed to show how oppressive was the burden, we are equally unable to exhibit the joy of the release. To resume the illustrations just given, or rather to apply them still farther, we will ask you to go, with the redemption price in your hand, and unlock the cell of the emaciated captive. As you announce to him the liberty which he is permitted to enjoy, mark well the emotions of his soul. Unclasp his fetters, and lead him forth to breathe once more the air of heaven. Let him actually feel that he is liberated; and that the beauties of God’s universe are once more his to contemplate and enjoy; is it possible to describe, or even to conceive his joy? Or, as Cowper, in an affecting strain of self-applying verse, represents himself the stricken deer, with arrow deep infixed, flying to the shady covert, and there meeting with One who had himself been shot by the archers, and who gently drew out the dart and healed the wound: so take the poor wounded sinner, and go with him to the great Physician. See how effectually, yet how gently the death-tipped arrow is withdrawn, and the balm of Gilead is applied! Can we paint the emotion of the wounded Israelite, as, stung by the fiery serpent, and already experiencing the cold convulsions of death—he casts his languid eye towards yonder brazen serpent? Can we depict his joy as that eye rekindles, and the pulsations of life return? Now, as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so has the Son of Man been lifted up; "that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life," John 3:14. Oh, there is nothing in nature—nothing in the release from bodily pain, nothing in the bestowment of temporal good, that properly illustrates this transition from a state of sin and condemnation, to one of hope and joy. Spring is beautiful, as she puts forth her virgin life and glories from the apparent death which so long had reigned over the face of nature. Her tender blade, her half-expanded leaf, her timid flower, her dewdrops, and her soft, calm skies—are all animating expressions of new-born joy; but how much more lovely is the soul that has just waked up to a life of holiness, cast off its grave clothes, come forth out of its sepulcher, and that bears the mild impress of God’s renewing grace! Here is a subject for the joy of angels; and over it they do rejoice. All heaven is moved at such a scene. The soul which is the subject of this change, is "full of joy with the light of God’s countenance." This is the joy of salvation, of salvation through Jesus Christ, of salvation from the curse of the law, from the dominion of sin, from the woes of the second death.