If I justify myself.

The folly of self-justification

One of Rev. Murray M’Cheyne’s elders was in deep darkness and distress for a few weeks, but one Sunday after the pastor’s faithful preaching he found his way to the Lord. At the close of the service, he told Mr. M’Cheyne, who knew of his spiritual concern, that he had found the Lord. When he was asked to explain how this happy change had come about, he said, “I have been making a great mistake. I have always been coming to the Lord as something better than I was, and going to the wrong door to ask admittance; but this afternoon I went round to the sinner’s door, and for the first time cried, like the publican, ‘Lord, be merciful to me a sinner’; and, oh, sir, I received such a welcome from the Saviour!” Are any of our readers like the self-righteous Pharisee? Such have no room for the Saviour; for the Lord “came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

If I say I am perfect.

Our exact worth

A bright little fellow was on the scales, and being anxious to outweigh his playmate, he puffed out his cheeks and swelled up like a small frog. But the playmate was the wiser boy. “Oho!” he cried in scorn, “that doesn’t do any good; you can only weigh what you are!” How true that is of us bigger children, who try to impress ourselves upon our neighbours and friends, and even upon ourselves, and--yes, sometimes upon God Almighty, by the virtues we would like to have! It doesn’t do any good. You may impose upon your neighbour’s judgment, and get him to say you are a fine fellow--noble, generous, brave, faithful, loving; but if it is not true, you are a sham. “You can only weigh what you are.”

Not quite perfect

A London publisher once made up his mind to publish a book without a single typographical error. He had the proofs corrected by his own readers until they assured him that they were faultless. Then he sent proofs to the universities and to many other publishing houses, offering a prize of several pounds for every typographical mistake found. A few were discovered, and the book was published. It was considered a perfect specimen of the printer’s art. Six or eight months after publication the publisher received a letter calling his attention to an error in a certain line on a certain page. Then came another and another letter, until before the year was out half a dozen mistakes were found. St. Paul says that Christians are epistles read and known of all men; and it certainly does not require as much scrutiny as this to discover that we are not free from faults. We must look forward to the new edition of us that will be brought out in another world, revised and amended by the Author. (Quiver.)

A blow at self-righteousness

Ever since man became a sinner he has been self-righteous. When he had a righteousness of his own he never gloried of it, but ever since he has lost it, he has pretended to be the possessor of it.

I. The plea of self-righteousness contradicts itself. “If I justify myself, mine own mouth shall condemn me.” For the very plea itself is a piece of high and arrogant presumption. God hath said it, let Jew and Gentile stop his mouth, and let all the world stand guilty before God. We have it on inspired authority, that “there is none righteous, no, not one.” Besides, dost thou not see, thou vain and foolish creature, that thou hast been guilty of pride in the very language thou hast used? Who but a proud man would stand up and commend himself? But further, the plea of self-righteousness is self-contradictory upon another ground; for all that a self-righteous man pleads for, is comparative righteousness. “Why,” saith he, “I am no worse than my neighbours, in fact a great deal better; I do not drink.” Just so, but then all that you claim is that you are righteous as compared with others. Do you not see that this is a very vain and fatal plea, because you do in fact admit that you are not perfectly righteous;--that there is some sin in you, only you claim there is not so much in you as in another? Suppose now for a moment that a command is issued to the beasts of the forest that they should become sheep. It is quite in vain for the bear to come forward and plead that he was not so venomous a creature as the serpent; equally absurd would it be for the wolf to say that though stealthy, and cunning, and gaunt, and grim, yet he was not so great a grumbler nor so ugly a creature as the bear; and the lion might plead that he had not the craftiness of the fox. A holy God cannot look even upon the least degree of iniquity. But further, the plea of the self-conceited man is, that he has done his best, and can claim a partial righteousness. It is true, if you touch him in a tender place he acknowledges that his boyhood and his youth were stained with sin. A perfect righteousness you must have, or else you shall never be admitted to that wedding feast.

II. The man who uses this plea condemns the plea himself. Not only does the plea cut its own throat, but the man himself is aware when he uses it that it is an evil, and false, and vain refuge. Now this is a matter of conscience, and if I speak not what you have felt, then you can say I am mistaken. Men know that they are guilty. The conscience of the proudest man, when it is allowed to speak, tells him that he deserves the wrath of God.

III. The plea is itself evidence against the pleader. There is an unregenerated man here, who says, “Am I blind also?” I answer in the words of Jesus, “But now ye say we see, therefore your sin remaineth.” You have proved by your plea, in the first place, that you have never been enlightened of the Holy Spirit, but that you remain in a state of ignorance. A deaf man may declare that there is no such thing as music. A man who has never seen the stars, is very likely to say that there are no stars. But what does he prove? Does he prove that there are no stars? He only proves his own folly and his own ignorance. That man who can say half a word about his own righteousness has never been enlightened of God the Holy Spirit. But then again, inasmuch as you say that you are not guilty this proves that you are impenitent. Now the impenitent can never come where God is. Further than this, the self-righteous man, the moment that he says he has done anything which can recommend him to God, proves that he is not a believer. Now, salvation is for believers, and for believers only. The thirsty are welcome; but those who think they are good, are welcome neither to Sinai nor to Calvary. Ah! soul, I know not who thou art; but if thou hast any righteousness of thine own, thou art a graceless soul.

IV. It will ruin the pleader forever. Let me show you two suicides. There is a man who has sharpened a dagger, and seeking out his opportunity he stabs himself to the heart. Who shall blame any man for his death? He slew himself; his blood be on his own head. Here is another: he is very sick and ill; he can scarcely crawl about the streets. A physician waits upon him; he tells him, “Sir, your disease is deadly; you must die; but I know a remedy which will certainly heal you. There it is; I freely give it to you. All I ask of you is, that you will freely take it.” “Sir,” says the man, “you insult me; I am as well as ever I was in my life; I am not sick.” Who slew this man? His blood be on his own head; he is as base a suicide as the other. (C. H. Spurgeon.)

Continues after advertising
Continues after advertising