by J.C. Ryle (1816-1900)
There are many whom I
must call “almost Christians,” for I know no other expression in the Bible,
which so exactly describes their state. They have many things about them which
are right, good and praiseworthy in the sight of God. They are regular and moral
in their lives. They are free from glaring outward sins. They keep up many
decent and proper habits. They appear to love the preaching of the Gospel. They
are not offended at the truth as it is in Jesus, however plainly it may be
spoken. They have no objection to religious company, religious books, and
religious talk. They agree to all you say when you speak to them about their
souls. And all this is well.
But still there is no
movement in the hearts of these people that even a microscope can detect. They
are like those who stand still. Weeks after weeks, years after years roll over
their heads, and they are just where they were. They sit under our pulpits.
They approve of our sermons. And yet, like Pharaoh’s lean cows, they are
nothing the better, apparently, for all they receive. There is always the same
regularity about them—the same constant attendance on means of grace—the same
wishing and hoping—the same way of talking about religion—but there is nothing
more. There is no going forward in their Christianity. There is no life, and
heart, and reality in it. Their souls seem to be at a deadlock. And all this is
sadly wrong.
Amen to that!!
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