I haven’t been very productive lately, and I don’t mean just on this blog. Sometimes I just get tired, lose all spark of imagination, and just muddle along. I’m in one of those moods now. Sometimes I don’t even feel like reading, which I normally love. At times like this it’s time to set aside works that are heavily theological and pick up something lighter. (I’m also thankful that Summer is here and Algebra is on the shelf!) This might be a good time for a novel.

However, today I found myself reflecting on my recent reading of Iain Murray’s Revival & Revivalism: The Making and Marring of American Evangelicalism, 1750–1858, which I enjoyed more than anything I have read in some time. While reading, I became interested in some of the major players in that time in American history, most notably, Asahel Nettleton. Naturally, I looked to the footnotes for Murray’s sources and found The Life and Labours of Asahel Nettleton by Bennet Tyler and Andrew Bonar. Off to Banner of Truth! There it was, but I was greatly disappointed to see it in paperback only. After a short search of my usual sources, I procured a nice older Banner of Truth hardcover with a little of that old book smell that is part of their charm.

That is what I turned to today, and I was not disappointed. There is something relaxing and refreshing about reading histories such as these—stories, but true stories of the great men of or past, and the way in which God worked his will in and through them. While these stories are filled with rich theology of the nature and work of God, in this form, more illustrated than declared, it does not lay heavily on a weary brain.

The book contains an account of Nettleton’s conversion, as it was published in the Connecticut Evangelical Magazine. Nettleton was apparently raised in a religious home, but it appears doubtful that his parents were genuine believers. That atmosphere gave rise to a moralistic, self-righteous view of salvation. He wrote, “From my earliest age I endeavored to lead a moral life, being often taught that God would punish sinners; but I did not believe that I should suffer for the few offences of which I had been guilty.” when he was eighteen years old, he heard sermons on two separate occasions which caused him to “think of the need of a change of heart” and that he might have “quenched the Spirit, which occasioned me the most alarming fears, that should for ever be left to eat the fruit of my own ways.” Nettleton continues,

Supposing I was alone in the thoughts of eternity, I separated myself from all company, and determined to seek an interest in Christ. I concluded something must be done to appease God’s anger. I read, and prayed, and strove in this selfish way, the more anxious I was; and hope was given. Soon I began to murmur and repine, and accused God of the greatest injustice in requiring me to return to him; and while I was striving with all my might, as I supposed, he appeared not to regard me. I considered God obligated to love m, because I had done so much for Him; and finding no relief, I wished that He might not be, and began really to doubt the truths of His Holy Word, and to disbelieve His existence; for if there was a God, I perfectly hated Him. I searched the Scriptures daily, hoping to find inconsistencies in them, to condemn the Bible, because it was against me; and while I was diligently pursuing my purpose, everything I read, and every sermon I heard, condemned me. Christian conversation gave me the most painful sensations.

Nettleton was apparently not receiving a very seeker-sensitive message. In an age in which the most popular “preachers” in the largest “churches” assiduously avoid any speech that might cause sinners to feel “condemned” or experience “painful sensations,” there is much we can learn from Nettleton’s testimony; for it was that that condemnation and pain that drove him to the conviction that there was something in himself that he needed to be saved from, and nothing in himself that could accomplish that salvation.

I tried to repent, but I could not feel the least sorrow for my innumerable sins. By endeavoring to repent, I saw my heart still remained impenitent. Although I knew I hated everything serious, yet I determined to habituate myself to the duties which God required, and see if I could not, by that means, be made to love Him; and I continued in this state some months. The fear of having committed the unpardonable sin, now began to rise in my mind, and I could find no rest day nor night. When my weary limbs demanded sleep, the fear of awaking in a miserable eternity prevented the closing of my eyes; and nothing gave me ease. No voice of mirth, of sound whatever, was heard, but what reminded me of the awful day when God shall bring every word into judgment. All self-righteousness failed me; and, having no confidence in God, I was left in deep despondency.    After awhile, a surprising tremor seized all my limbs, and death appeared to have taken hold upon me. Eternity—the word Eternity—sounded louder than any voice I ever heard; and every moment of time seemed more valuable than all the wealth of the world. Not long after this, an unusual calmness pervaded my soul, which I thought little of at first, except that I was freed from my awful convictions; and this sometimes grieved me, fearing I had lost all conviction. Soon after, hearing the feelings of a Christian described, I took courage, and thought I knew, by experience, what they were. The character of God, and the doctrines of the Bible, which I could not meditate upon before without hatred, especially those of election and free grace, now appear delightful, and the only means by which, through grace, dead sinners can be made the living sons of God. My heart feels its sinfulness. To confess my sins to God, gives me that peace which before I knew nothing of. To sorrow for it, affords that joy which my tongue cannot express. Were I sensible that, at death, my hope would perish, yet it seemeth to me now, that I could not willing quit the service of God, nor the company of Christians. But my unfaithfulness often makes me fear my sincerity; and should I at last be raised to glory, all the praise will be to God for the exhibition of His sovereign grace.

Nettleton’s testimony resembles my own in many ways. I am so thankful that I was raised, just barely, before “self-esteem” became the new gospel. I am grateful that no one tried to convince me of my own self-worth. As I have stated previously in my testimony, I was raised with some rather mixed-up theology. However, the doctrine of sin, and my own sinfulness and need for a Savior, was taught quite clearly and correctly. While my inherited theology did not quite lead me to a settled assurance of salvation, I did give me the necessary starting point—conviction of sin—so that I can echo these words of Asahel Nettleton: “To confess my sins to God, gives me that peace which before I knew nothing of. To sorrow for it, affords that joy which my tongue cannot express.” Thank God for the knowledge of sin! Truly, when I am at last “raised to glory, all the praise will be to God for the exhibition of His sovereign grace.” It is all of him. I deserve no credit at all.