The Christians Refuge
by Elder J. H. Oliphant
Primitive Monitor, December 1905
by Elder J. H. Oliphant
Primitive Monitor, December 1905
I read of a nobleman who was allowed to enter a prison and select one prisoner and set him free. He conversed with many who insisted they were hardly treated, that they ought not to have been imprisoned, and were full of excuses. He finally went to one who said he was justly in prison. He said: 'I deserve to be here; this is better than I deserve. I have sinned in many ways and if justice were meted out to me, worse would be my lot. O what a vile wretch I have been!' His tears and emotions checked his utterance.
The nobleman said to the warden, 'Set this man free. He will know how to use his liberty.'
When we have seen sin enough in self to ruin us, and have felt ruined by it, then we are in a frame to go to our Refuge. All through the 'Christian's life he feels the need of this Refuge, and oh, how often he flees to it! The path is worn smooth to this place of help. When burdened with sin he runs to this Refuge, crying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner.' When overwhelmed with grief he cries, 'Lord, save, I perish.'
As our best ministers enter the pulpit, they often seem weak as a newborn child-empty-no theme-no subject-no feeling-the people here and I have no message. Then he runs to this city for safety and help. When our hearts are burdened with grief or woe, we almost involuntarily cry to God for help.
I think that to 'come to Christ' means give up everything else. When we go to Him aright, we do not go to Him to do His part in our relief, but we go to Him feeling that His part is all of it. We have learned that 'vain is the help of man, and that all our hope is in Him. To go to Him is to renounce every other aid or system. The woman who touched the hem of His garment expected nothing from those around her; with her it was 'Jesus only.' I am sure I hope in nothing else, yet I fear at times I have no hope in Him. It seems too good to be true that I am a Christian; that heaven is to be my home at last; that the God of the whole earth has heard my cry and pitied my case. O how utterly unworthy am I of all this goodness! I cannot tell so bright a story as Paul; my experience is a feeble one.
But amid all the wrong that is in me I see one jewel--I do 'hunger and thirst after righteousness.' The Lord who knows us altogether, knows that I crave to be free from sin. And I am glad this is true; I am glad there is a 'would do good' within me; I am glad sin has become 'exceedingly sinful'; I am glad that sin gives pain and sorrow of heart; I am glad sin has become a burden to me, and that I feel it as a heavy load. These are sweet signs of life.
Once I saw nothing dreadful in sin; once I could drink it down without regret; once I cared but little for the name of Jesus, but I see - now, as I review my life, that there has been: a2 change somewhere along the line. It is not so clear or great as I could wish, but it is a change, nevertheless. The name of Jesus has become sweet to me.
I saw my friends tossed on death's billows. I heard them mention His name with dying lips. I saw there was an unseen Person who could bring solace in a dying hour. It was Jesus that stilled the temper, that silenced the storm; it was the Lord Jesus that quieted the fears of my departing loved ones; I am sure I hunger and thirst after this Sovereign Remedy for despair.
Dear reader, if these be your' feeling, I would say you have a city of refuge; you have already fled to it, and at this moment you are within the strong walls of His mercy. Let us ponder the value of our hope--'The unsearchable riches of Christ'-riches that no scholar can compute. When all created streams are dry, His fullness will be the same. When every other hope or source of comfort is gone, when riches lose their charm; when friends can no longer solace; when physicians turn away and confess that they can do nothing, then the Lord Jesus, whom we have trusted, shall show His skill. Despair shall take its flight, and hope shall be enthroned in our souls. Oh, what a Friend we have in the Savior!
Let me conclude by urging His children to love Him, to obey Him, to honor Him in your life. Some of you have never been baptized. Let me urge you to not put it off. Own Him as your Lord before the world. Let us love the church and seek its good; fill your seat, and urge others to do so. Let us think of all He did for us, and what He is now doing, and what we yet-hope for Him to do, and in this way stir up our own frozen affections and prompt each other to greater faithfulness. Soon the discharge will come to many of us, and we shall lay our arms down and go to the grave. Let us 'quit ourselves like men,' and live for Him upon whom we are to depend.
J. H. Oliphant.
When we have seen sin enough in self to ruin us, and have felt ruined by it, then we are in a frame to go to our Refuge. All through the 'Christian's life he feels the need of this Refuge, and oh, how often he flees to it! The path is worn smooth to this place of help. When burdened with sin he runs to this Refuge, crying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner.' When overwhelmed with grief he cries, 'Lord, save, I perish.'
As our best ministers enter the pulpit, they often seem weak as a newborn child-empty-no theme-no subject-no feeling-the people here and I have no message. Then he runs to this city for safety and help. When our hearts are burdened with grief or woe, we almost involuntarily cry to God for help.
I think that to 'come to Christ' means give up everything else. When we go to Him aright, we do not go to Him to do His part in our relief, but we go to Him feeling that His part is all of it. We have learned that 'vain is the help of man, and that all our hope is in Him. To go to Him is to renounce every other aid or system. The woman who touched the hem of His garment expected nothing from those around her; with her it was 'Jesus only.' I am sure I hope in nothing else, yet I fear at times I have no hope in Him. It seems too good to be true that I am a Christian; that heaven is to be my home at last; that the God of the whole earth has heard my cry and pitied my case. O how utterly unworthy am I of all this goodness! I cannot tell so bright a story as Paul; my experience is a feeble one.
But amid all the wrong that is in me I see one jewel--I do 'hunger and thirst after righteousness.' The Lord who knows us altogether, knows that I crave to be free from sin. And I am glad this is true; I am glad there is a 'would do good' within me; I am glad sin has become 'exceedingly sinful'; I am glad that sin gives pain and sorrow of heart; I am glad sin has become a burden to me, and that I feel it as a heavy load. These are sweet signs of life.
Once I saw nothing dreadful in sin; once I could drink it down without regret; once I cared but little for the name of Jesus, but I see - now, as I review my life, that there has been: a2 change somewhere along the line. It is not so clear or great as I could wish, but it is a change, nevertheless. The name of Jesus has become sweet to me.
I saw my friends tossed on death's billows. I heard them mention His name with dying lips. I saw there was an unseen Person who could bring solace in a dying hour. It was Jesus that stilled the temper, that silenced the storm; it was the Lord Jesus that quieted the fears of my departing loved ones; I am sure I hunger and thirst after this Sovereign Remedy for despair.
Dear reader, if these be your' feeling, I would say you have a city of refuge; you have already fled to it, and at this moment you are within the strong walls of His mercy. Let us ponder the value of our hope--'The unsearchable riches of Christ'-riches that no scholar can compute. When all created streams are dry, His fullness will be the same. When every other hope or source of comfort is gone, when riches lose their charm; when friends can no longer solace; when physicians turn away and confess that they can do nothing, then the Lord Jesus, whom we have trusted, shall show His skill. Despair shall take its flight, and hope shall be enthroned in our souls. Oh, what a Friend we have in the Savior!
Let me conclude by urging His children to love Him, to obey Him, to honor Him in your life. Some of you have never been baptized. Let me urge you to not put it off. Own Him as your Lord before the world. Let us love the church and seek its good; fill your seat, and urge others to do so. Let us think of all He did for us, and what He is now doing, and what we yet-hope for Him to do, and in this way stir up our own frozen affections and prompt each other to greater faithfulness. Soon the discharge will come to many of us, and we shall lay our arms down and go to the grave. Let us 'quit ourselves like men,' and live for Him upon whom we are to depend.
J. H. Oliphant.
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