The Impotent Man — John Ridley

The Willingness to Do the Will of God

I didn't intend to give this question tonight. It was by the remark of someone last night who had been greatly blessed at that very rich mission we had with the Salvation Army at Dulwich Hill a month ago.

And three of those people who had been wonderfully revived during the campaign made mention of the Saturday night meeting that had meant so much to them. And increasingly today the Lord laid that upon my heart.

Increasingly. So I bring you that same Saturday night message which I've never given in Auburn as far as I know. Even though I've preached I expect something like 45 times in this church, never given this challenge.

It's a challenge to the will. Are you willing to do the will of God? Jesus said to the man who had been 38 years on his back, are thou willing to be made whole? The man went out and told the Jews it was Jesus that had made him whole.

Jesus Goes Up to Jerusalem and the Feast of the New Jerusalem

One of the grand stories of scripture. A miracle. A mighty miracle. And if you had your Bible open to the 5th of John you'd find how startlingly the chapter opens. After this there was a feast of the Jews.

And Jesus went up. Up to Jerusalem. There was no other way for him to go. If he was to reach that feast in the holy city he had to press up. Beautiful for situation is Zion, the joy of the whole earth.

Jerusalem set in its lovely hills. And to reach that city and its feast he must needs go up. And my friends, if the Christian life is uphill all the way, and it is. If the road is rough almost every step, and it is.

And if the Christian life is a climb till you reach the celestial crest, and it is. The end will justify the way. A feast in the new Jerusalem. The marriage supper of the Lamb. They stand those halls of Zion all jubilant with song, and bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng.

There is the throne of David, and there from toil release the shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast. The feast in the new Jerusalem. That's what's coming for the believer. The real honest downright believer in Christ who set his face like a flint to reach the new Jerusalem at any cost.

It will be the marriage supper of the Lamb. And no tongue can tell what joy will be around that festive ball. And on the way our Lord must needs pass two other outstanding landmarks. The sheep market.

The Triangle of Life: Feasting, Merchandise, and Misery

With all the dust, and the din, and the fassel, and the barter of business. The shepherds getting the sheep through the gate up to the market. A place of merchandise. And on the other side, the pool with its five blooming porches, and great multitude of impotent folks just waiting for something to turn up, and the water to be stirred.

A place of misery. You join up those three points. There's the feast with its merriment. And draw down one line to the sheep market with its merchandise, and another line down to the pool with its misery, and draw your baseline.

Well you've got the triangle of life. Wherever you go you'll find that triangle of life. Many years ago my wife and I travelled far out in the back country of New South Wales, and Victoria, and parts of Queensland.

And even in the little townships wherever we went, there was the triangle of life. And in later years, in the grace of God, I girdled the globe preaching the gospel. And in the great cities of the United States, and United Kingdom, and Europe, I saw the triangle of life just the same.

Always something to feast in. Always something in yonder cafe, or milk bar, or yonder restaurant, or in the home, enjoying a happy time around a meal, feasting. Happy together in conversation and relaxing.

Always some at merchandise, buying and selling, planting, building, carrying on the work of the world. And always some little cluster of buildings, in the great cities a vast cluster, and in the small townships a smaller building, and in the little hamlets a cottage building.

Where men and women turn on beds of suffering, Bethesda. The triangle of life in every town, and city, and hamlet. And it's true in every home, you'll find the triangle of life. In my old home, which was a simple home of the old latter part of the Victorian era, we were not allowed to go out much of a Saturday night, but it was the feasting night.

We were allowed to invite some of our friends in, and the best tablecloth was on the table, and the best food was on the cloth, and we had a grand time on Saturday night. Games, and singing, and music, and then a grand supper, and it was the night of the week.

But it didn't last. It didn't last. Monday morning came, as inevitably Monday morning will come, and my father's off to business, and the older boys off to work, and my sister and I to school, and my mother down to the wash tubs.

It's merchandise, a cheap mark. And then there were times when one of the bedroom doors would be ajar, and a smell of antiseptics coming out, and I could see my mother moving about with a worried look on her face as the doctor's old time carriage was at the door, and later, the new motor car, which was a marvel in those days, the T-model Ford, and oh, how she would look with anguish for the coming of the doctor, a dear one, struggling in the depths of the grip of a disease that has died.

The triangle of life in every home, and in every heart. In every heart, you've got the triangle of life. Why, there's a time when you're singing, you're feasting, something's happened, the margins case went in your favour, or you've had a lift in wages, or the holidays have come, or perhaps you've fallen in love, and you're singing with joy.

Why, you're feasting, you're feasting at Jerusalem, but by the next post, the income tax assessment form arrives, and suddenly you're down there at the sheep market. Look at this, you say to your wife, look at this, you think I owe that?

I don't owe it. Oh, keep up your song, Dad, she says, keep up singing. This is business, I can't be singing now. I've got to pay out this down there at the sheep market. Then there's a time when you come to Bethesda, down in the depths and the misery of the food, some burdens on your heart, a sense of that depression that comes with sin, perhaps with sorrow, with bereavement.

Oh, you say, I'd better scatter the blues, I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm burdened. Bethesda. So we draw the triangle of life, for every heart, for every home, for every hamlet, hey, and for every city, the triangle of life, and right across the baseline of the triangle came Jesus.

Jesus at the Center of Every Area of Life

Right into the centre, to sanctify the merriment, that it might be pure. To sanctify the merchandise, and make it honourable. To sanctify the misery, and produce the peaceable fruits of righteousness.

Right into the centre, to sanctify the whole family. That's right, isn't it? Can you grasp that all right? Oh no, preacher, says someone, now look up. I'm going to question you on that, no, I don't accept it.

Life isn't a triangle. Life's a square. Life's a square. More completely. You see, in that corner, you've got your merriment, and in that corner your misery, and in that corner your merchandise, and in that corner, you've got the Master.

I'm not an atheist. I'm not a communist. I'm a believer. But I say, keep Jesus Christ in his place. Give him his second rite, his due, always once a Sunday to church, sometimes twice. Pays me along during the week.

But keep him in the corner, don't bring him right in to savour everything. That caused a lot of trouble in the past. No, life's a square. Isn't it? Are you right, or am I right? Is life a square, or is life a triangle?

Listen to Paul preaching. Accessoria, in front of King Agrippa. This thing was not done in a corner. What thing? This lifting up of the Lord of Glory, the Prince of Glory, upon that cross. This startling resurrection of the man Christ Jesus from the grave, was not done in a corner.

No. On a hill crest. At the place which the prophet Ezekiel calls the navel of the earth. The dead centre of the earth. God's Son lifted up to die to pay the price of sin. To infure the shame of the cross.

To manifest forth the divine love. To take to himself the weight of the world's iniquity. And to discharge it beneath the judgement of God. Was not done in a corner. Yet there are people that profess to be Christians, that are put right into the corner.

No, life is a triangle. And he comes across the baseline, right to the centre. To sanctify the whole life. And that's why the ancient hymn writer was correct when he said,. Yet no, nor of the words complain.

If Jesus comes, he comes to reign. To reign, and with no part or way. Thoughts must be slain, that disobey. Ah, he came across the baseline into the centre. To be the centre and soul of my life. To shed his radiance right over it.

To command altogether the man who's expected it. Is that right? Should be. Being what he was, and what he is. He turned first to Bethesda. The gloomy pool. The five terrible porches. With the great multitude of impotent folk.

The Impotent Man at Bethesda

The blind are there. The hawk. The wizard. Ever met a blind man, spiritually? Let me introduce you to a blind man, spiritually. Look, I can't understand that Bible. I've read it. Oh, I've read it, friend.

I've read it many times. But, can't understand it. Contradicts itself, you know. Even the preachers don't understand it. They're always arguing about it. Oh, it's a difficult book. I don't believe anyone can really understand the Bible.

I had bad news writing the paper, though, isn't it? There are all these strange things that are happening. These nations that are rising up and grabbing independence. And these riots. And all the time the danger of these wretched bombs about you.

Terrible times we're living in. Oh, you poor blind man at Bethesda. You can't understand your Bible. That portrays these times of distress of nations. With perplexity. Men's hearts piling up for fear of the things coming upon them.

You can't understand your Bible. That portrays that. But you can understand the newspaper that prevents it. The just blind at Bethesda. Oh? Here's the man that's false at Bethesda. Ever met him before?

Oh, we'll put things right when we get our party into power. When we get our ideology forced upon the world. We'll show you how to run the race then. Well, do it. Get them right. Get the thing going. It's false.

It's lame. I'm just waiting for something to turn up. It'll turn up all right. Oh, the poor shriveled people at Bethesda. I think they're the poorest lot you could ever meet. The shriveled people. The hot winds of a wicked world of dryness.

They've got no moisture. They're sinning. They're bitter. They've got a grudge against everything. Sometimes they'll write an anonymous letter. To cut and steam without the curry. To put a name. They're waiting.

They're waiting. Something will happen that will bring them blessing some day or other. They're down there by Bethesda at all the time. Someone has turned up. In the fullness of time, Christ came. Born of a woman.

Made under the Lord. To redeem Christ. Here he is at Bethesda. And he's looking down at the man who for 38 years has been a helpless captive to that litter bed. He's the chronic case of Bethesda. I venture to think there was no worse case in those gloomy portions.

And our Lord looks at that poor man and he asks him a great question that I asked you a few moments ago. Aren't thou willing to be made whole? Oh Lord, don't say that. The poor fellow. It's not a question of his willingness, it's a question of his weakness.

He's got paralysis. Oh Lord, don't answer him. Is he willing? He can't be made whole. He's got paralysis. He's paralysed. No, say to the Lord. You leave this case to me. It isn't a question at all of his weakness.

It's a question of his will. Aren't thou willing to be made whole? As I can almost hear Peter saying to our Lord, You don't expect, Lord, any man to fall in love with paralysis, do you? And want to stay there?

Do you think anyone ever falls in love with sickness? I ought to tell the dear friends that we lived next door. When I was a boy we lived next door to an elderly gentleman. I thought he was elderly, but I don't think he's as old as I am.

But I thought he was elderly in those days. And I used to see him frequently walking round the lawn, leaning on the arm of his wife. And I'd say to my sister, Call Mr. Jones, he's sick again. Oh, he's saved all but sick or something like that.

And then I remember on one occasion, listening in with my big ears to my mother and father having a conversation together. And I remember my father saying, You know, Nell, our friend next door, he likes to be sick.

And I thought, that's strange. And I listened in a little more intently. And then my father said, You know, we were down at the end of the street the other day, and you bumped into him, my friend and I.

And my friend said to him, Well, Mr. Jones, you're looking much better these days. You must be pretty well now. Don't you say that. He said, I'm never well. I'm in no way such a sick man. Don't you say I'm well.

And my father laughed. You know, Nellie said, He likes to be sick all right. And there's a little boy listening, and I thought, Well, now that's a funny thing. I don't want to be sick. I want to be well.

I want to play cricket, and I want to play soldiers, and I want to race about. I don't want to be sick. But after I'd been thinking back a little, there were times when I didn't want to be sick. So I had a little bit of a cold, you know, about half past eight in the morning, especially, it was a Monday morning.

I developed a frightful cough. And I coughed so badly that at last, sometimes, sometimes, I must emphasize that, my mother would say, Oh, Jack, you've got a very bad cold. You'd better stay home. And the night improved rapidly, after she gave that word.

But I really didn't want to be sick, you know. Only when it suited me to say it out loud. Oh, to fall in love with paralysis, palsy, pain, fever, race disease, cancer, consumption, to fall in love with corrupting disease.

Is it possible? I don't know. Some people seem to like to talk about their sicknesses so much, it's a wonder that they have fallen in love with them. But the worst of all diseases is life compared with sin.

On every part, sin seizes, and rages most within. Tis causing plague and fever and madness, all combined. None but a believer, the least reliefed and fine. That's old John Newton, the hymn writer, at his best.

The worst of all diseases, you can't compare with sin. And yet there are men and women who are determined to hold on to their pride, their jealousy, their bitterness, their vindictiveness, their envy, their sharp business ways, their dishonesty, their selfishness, their worldliness.

They hang on to it with all their will. They fall in love with sin. They really don't want to be saved. They really don't want to be holy. They've heard tell that Jesus Christ is apt to make one holy, and prepare them for that house where holiness becomes God's temple forever.

They don't want it. They're not willing to be saved. God is willing, but they're not willing. That's the tragedy. Art thou willing to be made whole, said our Lord? Oh Lord, we can almost hear some of the disciples saying, you don't think that poor fellow wants to remain a captive to his little bed all his life?

Surely you're not suggesting he wants to remain a captive? Yes, says the Lord. I am suggesting he may be more willing to be a slave than to be a saint. How true that is. How many men and women are more concerned about having their secret sin than on being made holy, fit for heaven's glory.

The Refusal to Leave the Slavery of Sin

You know, I was talking to Mr. Laidlaw, godly man in New Zealand who wrote a great fact called The Reason Why, and it was at the close just after World War II, and I was in New Zealand, and Mr. Laidlaw at his office was speaking to me across his office table, and he said, look Brother Ridley, I'm convinced some people are determined to be damned.

I'll tell you a story, he said. When I was out with the troops helping them as a welfare officer in France in the late war, a certain big fellow came in to me and he said, Mr. Laidlaw, can't your God do anything for me and save me from this cursed dream?

Yes son, I said, my God can. My God can deliver you from this dream through any other life if you're willing for Jesus to come into your heart. Well, Mr. Laidlaw, he said, I want to get rid of this dream.

I want to get rid of it. All right, come. He said, come and kneel down to you with me. He said, I put my arm round him, Mr. Ridley, and I said, now son, you pray this with me. Lord Jesus, I come to thee as a needy sinner.

He said, you may know the price. I said, come on son, pray this to the Lord Jesus Christ with me and you'll get deliverance. Lord Jesus, I come to thee as a needy sinner. No brother, as he said, he got up, he said, no thank you, Mr. Laidlaw, I want my drink and I'll have it.

He walked straight out of my house. He said, Mr. Ridley, there are some people determined to do regretful things. They've fallen in love with the slavery of sin. They've fallen in love with the lust that binds them.

With the selfishness that's woven its cords around their heart. With the worldliness that they'll not give up at any cost. God, I'd have been made well. Be made whole. Be made by the grace of God wholly.

They will not decide. They will not decide. Oh, but not this man. Sir, he said, I have no man in the water this trouble to help me into the pool. While I am coming another, step it down before me. I am willing, sir, but I am weak.

Just the case for Christ. Just the case for him. Ridley, take up thy bed and walk. And immediately, the man was made whole. And took up his bed and walked. And on the same day was the Sabbath. Now, that really happened.

You find Pinkler, just as it happened there. That man has been 38 years down there, a slave to paralysis. And he just said, in effect, I am willing, but I have no man to help me in the water's trouble.

And Jesus, seeing the man's will is surrendered, simply says, rise, take up your bed and walk. In other words, come, take up your cross and follow me. And he, on his walking, with the bed on his back, made whole.

Entering the Rest of God Through Christ

The same day was the Sabbath. Now, this is actually, if I only get a little passage put in, two or three words and the scripture on the whole thing. The same day was the rest day. The rest day. He who has been trying for 38 years to get to the pool has entered into rest.

He has ceased from his own works and his own efforts and he's entered into the rest of God. He's come to Jesus, who gives rest. Rest is a human thing. Come unto me, all ye that are laid up and are heavy laden.

I will give you rest. I will give you rest. It's the Sabbath. There he is, carrying his bed and he's reached his little home or perhaps his lodging or perhaps the place of a friend and they're coming in from all around the district.

They say, is it cool? Oh, is it? He's walking all right. Why, isn't it marvellous? It's a wonderful miracle. And here he is walking up and down in front of them and saying, yes, you know, the moment he said to me, take up your bed and walk, a strange quiver went through me that I can't explain it and I just leapt up.

And I picked up the old bed and carried it home. I said, it's wonderful. Oh, thank goodness. You feel the old back's a bit weak, don't you? You don't feel too strong in your shoulders, do you? Yes, I feel wonderful.

I can't defend home. Some old man with a big long beard at the corner. Oh, son, I wouldn't trust you. I wouldn't trust that cure. Oh, no, I think you'll go back. I think you'll go back to the pool. I've no confidence in these quack cures, you know, or these sudden conversions.

You'll go back to the pool, all right. Oh, son, I'd advise you if I were you to make sure of this cure now. I'm a great believer in olive oil and if you just take a good dose of olive oil tonight and get someone else to rub your poor old back several times with olive oil, I guess you perhaps might make a cure of it.

Great believer in olive oil. Do you really think so, father? You ought to know. I do, and I'm an old man and I ought to know. I'm a great believer in olive oil and I will do it. Well, what's your world then, my dear?

No, I won't. No, I won't. No, I won't, father. I've carried the bed out. I don't want your olive oil. I've got the cure. Do you know what I mean? You can't add to Christ's salvation. You can't improve it one iota.

You can be confirmed or baptized or immersed and then maybe you'll have their place. I quite agree that baptism is a work of obedience but it doesn't by any means save you. Nor any other ordinance can save you.

The work of salvation is immediate, blessed, full in Christ. You can't add to a finished work. It is finished with the cry of the great Savior. It has come to the end of an accomplished hope. You can't add to a finished work.

But you can accept it. You can willingly take it. When the poor fellow was walking home with the bed on his back, you know, there was a little group of pharaohs got together, good people, religious people, people that observed to the letter the Sabbath day and suddenly they shouted to the poor fellow what are you doing carrying your bed?

It's not your fault. It's the Sabbath day. Now you think about it. He's been 38 years attached to that bed. The first day he's got the bed on top of his, has got the bed attached to him and he's walking with it, they're at it.

They're at it. I know a man who was wonderfully saved in one of my missions by the grace of God and he came out of a life of much sin but he told me this. He said you know some of those that criticised me in the early days when I was only a poor and a weak believer if I hadn't been truly saved they'd have sent me flopped back into the world again.

Oh, the criticisms come up quickly. What are you doing carrying your bed? It's not lawful for you to do it. Oh, he said he doesn't make me whole. The same said unto me. Take up your bed and walk. I'm only doing what he told me.

Good answer. Grand answer. What man told you to carry your bed on the Sabbath day? Oh. I don't know his name, he said. Couldn't tell you his name. Oh, my dear friend, that's the saddest part in the whole story of John Fyne.

I don't know his name, he said. Couldn't tell you his name. Ah, friend of Bethesda somewhere in paradise, the blessed. That was the saddest thing that day, wasn't it? That was the saddest thing. You've got a lot of friends in Auburn, a lot of friends in Sydney.

They don't know the name of their saviour, their healer. Here there's a young girl we call her Mary, which is a common name so that no one will feel I've selected their particular name. And Mary's made a decision.

Oh, she said, the mission's coming, I'm all right, I'm saved. I know that, I saved a long time ago. And here's Mary, and she's got a new job and she's been in that job for a week. And at the close of the first week as she's just getting ready to depart, two or three of the girls come up to her and they say, Mary, you know, since you've come here we don't feel so happy.

You're a good girl, you don't swear, you don't talk like we do. I haven't seen you smoking a cigarette yet. What's the difference between you and us, Mary? Oh, there's no difference. I just try to do the best I can.

No, but there's something funny. You're a good girl. Oh, I'm not good. No, I just try to do the best I can, that's all. I'm sorry if you feel there's been a difference. No, no, you're all right, but we can't quite understand.

Come on, Mary, you tell them of your Savior. Tell them who it was that cured you. What? You don't know the name of your healer. You're afraid it's that dear man at Bethesda. The poor, he knew the name of his healer.

But a pathetic thing it is. Here is Jim. We call him Jim. He's an apprentice to the carpentry trade and he's doing his best. And Jim, he puts that out. Oh, he's in the CE movement and, oh, Jim, he's quite a man.

He said he wasn't a Christian. Jim said he's a Christian. And here he is. He's driving home in Ireland and he's only an apprentice and he misses fire with a hammer. He hits his son. He jumps like a cat on hot bricks.

And then he pushes his poor son into his mouth and begins to suck it and he makes off his hammer near him and says, come on, Jim, have a good swearing. You'll feel better, son. Don't dance about like that.

Oh, what good a swearing, says Jim, as he shakes his poor thumb. Oh, you're a saint, aren't you? You wouldn't swear, would you? Oh, go on, I'm no saint at all, but I wouldn't swear at it. When did you give it up?

I cut that out years ago. Oh, you're a good boy, aren't you? No, I'm not. No, that's it. Come on, Jim. You had a great opportunity to say why you'd given up swearing. What? You don't know the name of your Saviour?

You don't talk to Jesus Christ? But the man of Bethesda went up to the temple. He didn't go back to the pool. He went up to the temple. And in the temple, in the house of prayer, even at this crisis, he met Jesus Christ today.

The Healed Man's Witness to Jesus

Behold, said the Saviour, and I'm sure he said it with grace and love. Behold, thou art made whole. Thou art cured. Have no fear. Now sin no more. Lest a worse thing come unto you. Don't you trifle with sin.

But thou art made whole. What was that? What was that? He simply met Christ. And he heard the word of the Saviour straight to his heart. Don't you trifle with sin. The man went out. Back to the pool. And he met that group that had climbed him.

And he said to Jesus, that made me whole, Oh, I can't help what you say about him. It was Jesus Christ. That's right. Jesus of Nazareth. I believe he might be the Messiah. Don't you say that word, Christ.

I can't help it. It was Jesus of Nazareth made me whole. That's the victory. He witnessed. He witnessed to his deliverance. And I venture to think he kept on witnessing. You see, he was willing. He was willing to be made whole.

He was willing to be delivered from disease. He was willing to be delivered from death too. And the disease of sin leads to the death of sin. But he was willing to be saved from the disease and the death.

And then draw a line. He witnessed to his healer. He witnessed to his Saviour. He went out and said, Jesus has made me whole. He didn't say some roundabout words like this. I've had a great experience.

And something's happened in my life that's remarkably changed. He didn't say that. He said, Jesus, he made me whole. That's the witness. Right across the baseline. Willing, witness. Now draw up two slanting lines from that, will you?

And come to the apex of another triangle. Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter now into the joy of thy Lord. That's the triangle. Of eternal life. Willing that Christ could be your Saviour. Willingly accepting.

Willing that you could remain whole. Well. Same thing. Witnessing to Christ. That's the second point at the base. Willing, witnessing. Up, up. To this great willing place of God. Well done. Well done.

The Call to Salvation and Christian Witness

Now the other people do a lot of work to try and commend themselves to God. That isn't the idea, my dear friend. It's the grand witness you give to Christ that's commended to God. You can't glorify God any more than honouring his Son.

Yet some of you do work, all do work. But you won't witness much. I want to say as I come to the close of this message that there are two questions I would ask every soul here as I've organized my own heart.

Art thou willing to be made whole? Art thou willing to be saved? In other words, art thou willing to be made holy? To be prepared for heaven? Art thou willing that Christ, the Cure, will come into your heart?

Are you willing? You must be if you're going to be saved. The tragedy of the human will, beloved, is this, that God has made me in his own image, made me in the likeness of himself, insofar that he's given me a free will.

And that wonderful, awful gift can be lifted up until I say, I will not have this. For I know it. That's the tragedy. Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thee as a hen gathers her brood underneath her wings.

But ye would not, said the weeping Savior, ye would not. I've felt like that many a time when I've made the appeal for Christ over a congregation. How willingly would he have saved every one of them. How willingly would he have cleansed that defiled life.

How willingly would he have liberated that poor prisoner of lust and sin. But they would not. They will not. They will not. Therefore, my friends, you can will no to Christ, whereas if thou wouldst willingly.

Thou wouldst be wonderfully saved. Thou wouldst remain well forever. Oh, what a perfect picture is that healthy youth, a healthy vein, with all the glow of health in the cheeks and the vitality of life right through the body.

What a perfect picture. And that's the picture of the soul made well. As a strong man rejoices at running late, I want to ask a second question. Not only are you willing to be saved, I want to ask every professor of salvation as well.

As those that are not yet saved. Art thou willing to witness to Christ? Art thou willing to witness to this Saviour? And that is a big thing. A man can profess to be saved and not be willing to witness to Christ.

I remember hearing four men sing one night in this city of Sydney years ago at the CE rally. And I fixed my eyes on the tenor. He's a big man, auburn hair, and he sang beautifully. And when I was saying goodnight to the quartet, as they walked out at the end of the service, I shook hands with each one and up came the tenor, took his hand and I looked him in the face and I said, that was fine singing tonight, my brother, thank you, I did enjoy it.

He said, you don't seem to remember me, Mr. Ridley. Well, I said, I fancy I have met you before, but I couldn't say your name and I don't remember where. He said, don't you remember the night at the North Sydney Church, that great Greek church, when you made an appeal and I was the only person that moved and I walked right from the back door right up that long, long aisle and up those stairs and to the west.

Don't you remember that? Ah, and I said, I do now. I remember that meeting and you were the only one that responded. Ah, Mr. Ridley said, I think I might have been converted a year before that night. I might have been.

I never did anything. I never went forward. I wouldn't whisper. I wouldn't confess the Savior. But from that night, I want to tell you, I've gone right on with God. I whisper. I speak of the Lord. That's the good thing.

How easy it is to fail in the vital teaching of the matter. Old John McNeill, the Scotch evangelist, used to say, the confess is in it, whether you like it or not. The confess is in it. So it is. Well in it.

The salvation of God. Here's Charles Westley, a great hymn writer, back at this point that I want to introduce him. He's a man just converted under the witness of Peter Bowler, the Moravian, who knew how to witness.

And he brought Charles Westley out of all the strait-lacedness of his legalism, right into the liberty of the child of God. Westley rejoiced. And he turned to Mr. Bowler after, and he said, of course, Mr. Bowler, I don't suppose there's any need for me, is there, to publish this matter abroad and talk about it?

Oh, I feel trusted. Said Peter Bowler. Would to God that you had a thousand tongues to tell it. Never let Westley's mind. And a little later, he wrote the number one hymn of the Methodist book of you had you today.

All for a thousand tongues to sing. My great Redeemer's praise. The glories of my God and King. The triumph of His grace. And Westley witnessed as ever a man did to his great hymn. Oh, my God. That you had a thousand tongues.

Beloved, do you use your one tongue to tell something of Christ's glory to another? Are you a willing witness as well as a willing receiver of Jesus Christ? I know how hard the fight is. I know how difficult it is to bend to the will of God in our forefallen nature.

But I want to tell you if a man is willing to be made willing, God will come and deal with him as He is going to. And I'm going to ask you tonight, as we draw to the close and bow in prayer in a moment's time, I'm going to ask you even if you'll only say, Oh, brother, I'm willing to be made willing to be saved.