Sunday, 3 February 2013

My sins were written down only to be forgotten

O, the loneliness of the wandering sheep who has left the safety of the ninety-nine; or the unquenchable fire of restlessness of that Christian who has grieved the Holy Spirit. 

Such is the power of the flesh that one must not leave it to rule one’s heart, for it only breeds contempt for the things of God.

There are strongholds in me which I have not fought with the blood of the lamb. I have forgotten that the battle for righteousness is daily, nay, every hour. Every thought must be held captive, every vision must be salted with holiness and every speech seasoned with the sweet spices of grace. 

I have so fallen, yea so wretched that I cannot dare look into my Lord's pure holy eyes, for I shall be worse than Isaiah in His exclamation; ‘Woe is me for I have sinned!’ I would say, woe is me for I have doubly sinned under a greater light and dispensation.

But this, my poor miserable soul also knows, namely, that God’s mercy under Christ is limitless and able to conquer and overcome my wretched heart.

It is true that my sins were written down only to be forgotten, only to be screwed up and burned in the fire of forgiveness, and to be drowned in the sea of mercy and grace. Love has chased away the hammers of justice, satisfying her needs on the cross of glory. 


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