A man’s deep conviction and fear of the unpardonable sin shows the burden of false guilt.
There are instances of distressing fears on this subject, fears which, as the event shows, were unfounded. The following case is one; and one of the many which might be cited to show the truth of this. Mr. L. — had enjoyed the privilege of sitting under an able and successful ministry. His heart had been touched; and, during a remarkable period, in which he saw many of his friends embracing the hope of salvation, his own convictions increased. Not long after his feelings of impatience became sensitive. His attention was subsequently turned from its own proper object to one more nearly connected with our natural selfishness. He ceased to be an inquirer and became an objector. It is hard to stop here. Opposition succeeded a habit of objecting. An apparent bitterness of prejudice and malevolence of expression, were observable whenever he opened his lips on the subject of religion. Still the past day of conviction was a memorable time to him. Five years afterwards he was again roused to a sense of his danger. And with the alarm came the frightful recollection of his former conduct. Language which he had uttered—and which appeared nearly allied to blasphemy—returned fresh to his memory. He accused himself of having committed the unpardonable sin. All efforts to persuade him to the contrary were unavailing. The impression was daily deepening. His mind lost its elasticity; and a moody temperament succeeded. His friends were alarmed. A suspicion was started among them, that his conclusions might be just. This he marked, and labored to confirm it. He seemed to take a negative satisfaction in stating the desperation of his case; and in watching the fallen countenance of sympathy.
Many months had transpired, during which he was the subject of religious gossip with some, of a kind of superstitious dread with others, and of fervent prayer with a few of the remainder;—when the case was stated to a judicious minister, whom Divine Providence had called into the neighborhood. He waited on Mr. L., who, far from being averse to any conversation relative to his own state, seemed rather to court it. He was fluent in all his details of time and circumstance; and always ended his narrative with a declaration that he had ceased for ever to pray. After a preparatory interchange of remarks, he was asked, "You believe yourself guilty of the unpardonable sin?"
"I am sure of it."
"In what did the crime consist?"
"I opposed the work of God."
"So did Saul."
"I denied Jesus Christ."
"So did a disciple afterwards honored by his master."
"I don't tell the power of Jesus Christ after strong evidence in his favor."
"So did Thomas."
"What? are you attempting to prove by such examples that I am a Christian?"
"Not at all: I am only inquiring into the nature of your guilt; and thus far I see no reason for despair."
"I have hated God," rejoined the self-condemned, "and openly avowed my enmity in sight of his Divine operations."
"Thus far your case is lamentable indeed; but not hopeless still. Our hearts are naturally at enmity with God. And I do not see why the open avowal of this, drawn out by the sight of the Law into visible form, must necessarily and always constitute the guilt of which you accuse yourself."
"I feel that I am cut off from salvation."
"It is difficult to reason against your feelings."
"But are they no proof on the present subject?"
"Let me inquire whether you desire the pardon of your sins?"
407. SL.
