THE MISERABLE CONDITION OF AN IMPENITENT SINNER, BEFORE HE LIE AWAKENED TO A SERIOUS CONVICTION OF HIS GUILT.
II. CONVICTIONS OF SIN CONSTITUTE, IN THE EYE OF GOD, AN IMPORTANT CHANGE IN THE STATE OF MAN.
III. WE ARE HERE TAUGHT, THAT BEINGS ABSOLUTELY SINFUL FIND NEITHER REST NOR ENJOYMENT BUT IN DOING EVIL. Wickedness is a spirit absolutely solitary. All its social character all its sympathy, is nothing but the disposition which unites banditti in the fell purpose of plundering, pollution, and murder. With others it joins, solely because it cannot accomplish its foul ends alone. Even with these it has no union of heart, no fellow-feeling, no real sociality. It attracts nothing and nobody. Every thing it repels. Hell with all its millions is a perfect solitude to each of its inhabitants.
IV. PERSONS UNDER CONVICTION ARE ALWAYS IN DANGER OF FALLING ANEW INTO HARDNESS OF HEART.
V. THE SOUL, FROM WHICH CONVICTIONS OF SIN HAVE BEEN FINALLY BANISHED, IS MORE PERFECTLY PREPARED TO BECOME THE SEAT OF ABSOLUTE WICKEDNESS THAN BEFORE THESE CONVICTIONS BEGAN.
VI. THE SOUL, FROM WHICH CONVICTIONS ARE FINALLY BANISHED, BECOMES FAR MORE SINFUL THAN BEFORE ITS CONVICTIONS BEGAN. Seven is here put for an indefinite number, and may be considered as standing for many. At the least, it denotes a greater number than one, and, in proportion, a greater series of temptations and dangers. These seven are also universally more wicked than the original tenant of this impure habitation, more absolutely possessed of the fiendlike character than himself. From each, his danger is of course greater; from all, how great, how dreadful! Lessons:
I. The immeasurable importance of cherishing in the heart convictions of sin.
II. We learn from these observations the high interest which persons in this situation have in being directed in their duty by sound wisdom.
III. We also learn from this parable the miserable situation of unawakened sinners. (T. Dwight, D. D.)
Description and danger of conviction when not followed by conversion
I. The first is the state of a man when the unclean spirit is gone out of him. All unconverted men are spiritually the slaves of Satan.
II. “When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest: and finding none, he saith, I will return unto my house whence I came out: and when he cometh, he findeth it swept and garnished.”
1. Amidst all his convictions he has had no sense of the evil of sin. He has never seen it in its true colours, nor hated it for its evil nature. He has felt his misery; but he has never heartily confessed his guilt.
2. He has given a farther proof that this is still the state of his heart, by the reliance which he has placed on his own strength and goodness. He has resolved, indeed, to forsake all sin; but he has made this resolution, trusting entirely to his own strength. He has had no fear of his own heart, nor any notion of its utter depravity. It is plain that his heart remains unchanged; the same impure habitation which it has always been.
III. “Then taketh he unto him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there.” These words describe the sinner’s awful relapse under the power of Satan. Long-indulged habits call loudly for their usual gratifications. Unmortified lusts revive and renew their strength. Old companions in sin allure.
IV. “The last state of that man is worse than the first.” It is worse in three respects.
1. His guilt is greater. He has now more to answer for than he before had. He does not now sin in ignorance, as perhaps, he once did.
2. His misery will be greater. This consequence must naturally follow. They whose guilt is greater will justly receive a greater damnation.
3. His danger is greater. He may still be converted and find mercy. By turning to God in true faith and repentance, he may even yet be delivered from guilt and misery. But conversion is now less likely to take place than it formerly was. While you resist not conviction, beware of resting in it. You will not be saved by a conviction of your sins, but by a conversion from them. Mistake not one of these things for the other. (E. Cooper.)
The last state of that man is worse than the first
On relapsing into sin
I. RELAPSING INTO SIN IS THE GREATEST INGRATITUDE.
1. It is the work of grace only, if our Lord, after we have committed a sin, receives us back into His house.
2. What should you say of the prodigal son if, shortly after the banquet, he had left his father’s house again, thrown away the ring and shoes, and trodden under foot the best robe: if he had abused the presents of his father by new offences?
3. As the physician is filled with scorn of a sick person, whom he had healed with great care, and who by disobedience had plunged himself into peril of death again: so the Heavenly Physician will depart from a soul which repeatedly commits the same sins again.
II. RELAPSING INTO SIN IS THE GREATEST FOLLY.
1. Sin is like a disease which becomes more perilous by repeated attacks.
2. In proportion as the power of sin increases, the strength of man’s will decreases.
3. The time for conversion is getting shorter and shorter.
III. RELAPSE IS THE FORERUNNER OF ETERNAL PERDITION. Conversion depends partly on the good-will of the sinner, and partly on the grace of God. We have seen that the strength of will relaxes with every fresh sin, and therefore the relapsed cannot rely on it. And the greatest energy alone cannot perform the work of conversion. Without a full measure of grace the conversion of the relapsed is impossible.
1. It is to be feared that the ordinary graces will produce no effect upon him. God by His grace shows to the sinner the deformity of sin, terrifies him by its consequences and punishment, and endeavours to gain his affections by pointing out to him the infiniteness of the Divine charity. But if the man continually relapses into his old sins, are these motives likely to make a lasting impression on him?
2. Or, are we entitled to expect from God extraordinary graces for the relapsing sinner? Should God show greater mercy towards us, because we have been so ungrateful to Him? When we continually tear open old wounds, think you the Heavenly Physician of our souls will prepare us a stronger remedy? (Bishop Ehrler.)
The return of the evil spirit
A young man enters upon life in all the confidence of youth, and passion, and strength. He is borne along by the currents of the world, and he soon drinks deep into its polluted joy. First a spirit of gaiety, and then a spirit of uncleanness takes possession of his heart--and his soul, for awhile, is spell-bound by the fascination of the world, and he wraps himself in his forbidden pleasures. Presently it pleases God to arrest that young man. He is laid on a bed of sickness, and he eats of his own bitter sowing. He is brought very low in shame, and wretchedness, and remorse--he loathes his former courses--he turns from them with disgust--and he makes his resolutions, and he records his vows--the spirit that is in him is cast out, and the young man rises from his trouble a reformed character. Meanwhile, where is the evil spirit? Is he gone? For a little time he appears to let him alone; but all the while he is but preparing himself for another temptation and a fiercer assault. He comes and he sees that young man abhorring the sins of his youth; but uninfluenced by grace--untouched by the love of God; he sees his heart silent in prayer, and his mind is still pointing to the world. And the evil spirit brings to bear upon that man a new and more powerful seduction. He is no longer to him the tempter to some sinful gratification; but he enters into him a spirit of mercenary calculation--he becomes a man cold, secular, aspiring. Money, politics, greatness, argument, scepticism, occupy his mind--he is now for establishment and reputation--he grasps and he holds the world--he is not immoral, he is a formalist--he is not a profligate, he is covetous, Christless--his heart is further off from God than ever it was--he has not commenced anew--he feels no sins--he is a bitter censor of other men--he grows prejudiced--he is a practical infidel--he is sealed in his self-confidences--“and the last state of that man is worse than the first.” (J. Vaughan, M. A.)
The seven-fold re-inforcement
It is not as the invaders of a country or besiegers of a city, that the evil spirit, with his sevenfold re-inforcement, rises up before the mind’s eye in terrific grandeur. It is when we see him knocking at the solitary door from which he was once driven in disgrace and anguish. The scene, though an impressive one, is easily called up. A lonely dwelling on the margin of a wilderness, cheerfully lighted as the night approaches, carefully swept and garnished, and apparently the home of plenty, peace, and comfort. The winds that sweep across the desert pass it by unheeded. But, as the darkness thickens, something more than wind approaches from that quarter. What are the shadowy forms that seem to come forth from the dry places of the wilderness, and stealthily draw near the dwelling? One of the number guides the rest, and now they reach the threshold. Hark! he knocks; but only to assure himself that there is no resistance. Through the open door we catch a glimpse of the interior, swept and garnished--swept and garnished; but for whose use?--its rightful owner? Alas! no; for he is absent; and already has that happy home begun to ring with fiendish laughter, and to glare with hellish flames; and if the weal or woe of any man be centred in it, the last state of that man is worse than the first. Do you look upon this as a mere fancy scene? Alas! my hearers, just such fancy scenes are passing every day within you or around you, rendered only more terrific by the absence of all sensible indications, just as we shrink with a peculiar dread from unseen dangers if considered real, and are less affected by the destruction that wastes at noon-day, than by the pestilence that walks in darkness. Come with me and let me show you one or two examples of familiar spiritual changes which, if not the work of evil spirits, may at least be aptly represented by the images presented in the text and context. To the eye of memory or imagination there rises up the form of one who was the slave of a particular iniquity, which gave complexion to his character and life. It was perhaps an open and notorious vice, which directly lowered him in public estimation. Or it may have been a secret and insidious habit long successfully concealed or never generally known. But its effects were seen. Even those who were strangers to his habits could perceive that there was something wrong, and they suspected and distrusted him. He felt it, and in desperation waxed worse and worse. But in the course of providence a change takes place. Without any real change of principle or heart, he finds that his besetting sin is mining his health, his reputation, or his fortune. “Strong” as the power of temptation, appetite, and habit is, some form of selfishness is “stronger” still. The man reforms. The change is recognized at once. He is another man. After the first painful acts of self-denial, the change appears delightful to himself. He seems once more to walk erect. A new direction has been given to his hopes and his desires, and, like Saul, he rejoices that the evil spirit has departed from him. At first he is afraid of its return, and keeps strict watch against the inroads of the enemy. By degrees he grows secure, and his vigils are relaxed. The temptation presents itself in some form, so contemptible and little to be feared, that he would blush not to encounter it. He does encounter it. He fights it. He appears to triumph for a moment, but is ultimately overcome. The next victory is easier. The next is easier still. He tries to recall the feelings which preceded and produced his reformation; but the spell is over. He knows that they have once proved ineffectual to save him, and he trusts in them no longer. Even the cheeks which once controlled him in his former course of sin are now relaxed; he is tired of opposition, and seeks refuge from his self-contempt in desperate indulgence. If you ask the evil spirit which at first has possession, what is thy name? you may receive for answer, drunkenness, or avarice, or lust. But ask the same after the relapse, and the response must be, My name is legion. Have you not seen in real life this terrible exchange of one besetting sin for several? Have you not known men, who once seemed vulnerable only at a single point, begin to appear vulnerable, as it were, at all points, perhaps with the exception of the one first mentioned? Now, when this is the case, besides the power exerted by each appetite and passion on the soul distinctly, there is a debasing and debilitating influence arising from the conflict which exists between them. Let the reformed libertine become at once ambitious, avaricious, and revengeful, and let these hungry serpents gnaw his soul, and it will soon be seen by others, if not felt by the miserable victim, that the evil spirit which had left him for a season has returned with seven others worse than himself; and as we see them in imagination enter the dwelling swept and garnished for their use, we may read, inscribed above the portal that shuts after them, “The last state of that man is worse than the first.” (J. A. Alexander, D. D.)
The tendency of sin to increase if once admitted
These little sins, if they be so, will make way for greater. Little wedges open the way in the most knotty wood for bigger. As thieves, when they go to rob a house, if they cannot force open the doors, or break through the walls, let in a little boy at the window, who unbolts and unlocks the door, and so lets in the whole rabble; thus the devil, when men startle at greater sins, and by them he hath no hopes to get possession of their souls, he puts them upon those sins which they think little, and by these insensibly enters; for they, once admitted, open the doors of the eyes, of the ears, and of the heart too, whereby the whole legion enter, and rule and domineer in their souls to their ruin. Men do not, indeed they cannot, imagine the woeful consequences of neglecting their watch against the least sin. How many who have been so modest and maidenly at first, that they would not so much as give a lascivious person the hearing when he hath spoken wantonly; yet by giving way to their own foolish thoughts, have at last prostituted themselves to their pleasure without any shame. Sinners” increase to more ungodliness; when they once venture down hill, they know not where nor when to stop. Workmen bore holes with little wimbles, which make way for the driving of great nails. When Pompey, saith Plutarch, could not prevail with a city to billet his army, he yet persuaded them to take in a few weak, maimed soldiers; but those soon recovered strength, and let in the whole army, to command and govern the city, Thus Satan, by sins of infirmity, prevails at length for sins of presumption. Great storms arise out of little gusts; and clouds no bigger than the palm of a man’s hand come in time to cover the whole heavens. The greatest river is fed with drops, and the biggest mountain made up of atoms. As Sylla said, when in his proscription time, that he slew so many, one pleaded for the life of Caesar, In uno Caesare multi Marii: “In one little youth, many old subtle men,” so in one little sin, there may be many great ones. When one evil spirit hath got lodging in the heart, he prepares it, and makes room for seven more wicked and worse than himself. (G. Swinnock.)
