The Sinners Prayer is not enough
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holyrokker
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Volition is part of humanity. We set our hearts upon things and desires. We sometimes change our preferences. We don't "get a will" to do anything, we make choices throughout life based upon experience, knowledge, preference, pleasure, etc.
Romans 1 makes it clear that unbelief is not merely a "lack" of faith. It's an act of volition.
As for being "drawn by the Holy Spirit". You must be refering to John 6:44 where Jesus told a group of Jews who refused to believe, "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him."
But notice verse 45 "It is written in the Prophets, 'And they will all be taught by God.' Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me"
Earlier Jesus told them, "You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life." (John 5:39-40)
John 6:33 "But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe."
John 6:44 is not teaching the doctrine that God enables only some to come to Christ.
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- Nov 21, 2009
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Jesus is looking for a life style i heard a preacher say.
Makes you think really if many take that on board when they pray the sinners prayer,or whether they are led to believe God will do it all for them!
Makes you think really if many take that on board when they pray the sinners prayer,or whether they are led to believe God will do it all for them!
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- Nov 21, 2009
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When i went to school,a church of England school,i was taught a hymn which i was told was sang at infant baptisms.
'I was made a Christian when my name was given,one of God's dear children and an heir of heaven'
My father a strong Baptist wrote a letter to the school forbidding them to make me sing this hymn,as it was a lie.
Perhaps there's another room with this hymn written on the door!
'I was made a Christian when my name was given,one of God's dear children and an heir of heaven'
My father a strong Baptist wrote a letter to the school forbidding them to make me sing this hymn,as it was a lie.
Perhaps there's another room with this hymn written on the door!
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- Nov 21, 2009
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"In the first days after my conversion, I felt that I would not be able to live any longer. Walking on the street, I felt a physical pain for every man and woman who passed by. It was like a knife in my heart, so burning was the question of whether or not he or she was saved. If a member of the congregation sinned, I would weep for hours." Tortured For Christ
Richard Wurmbrand
http://members.cox.net/wurmbrand/wurmbrandbio.html
How many ppl do You know like this?
If only i could see as he saw,the value of a soul for Jesus,saved from eternal hell.
If only i could cry with shame for my hard heart.
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A man who could not give him self over to The Lord for cleansing
Near the town of K___, in Texas, there lived and prospered, a wealthy farmer, the son of a Methodist preacher, with whom the writer was intimately acquainted. He was highly respected in the community in which he lived. He was a kind-hearted and benevolent man; but, however, had one great fault -- he was very profane. He would utter the most horrible oaths without, seemingly, the least provocation. On several occasions, I remember having seen him under deep conviction for salvation, during revival meetings. On one occasion, during a camp-meeting, he was brought under powerful conviction. He afterwards said he was suddenly frightened, and felt as if he wanted to run away from the place.
Just one year from that time, another camp-meeting was held at the same place, and he was again brought under conviction, but refused to yield; after which he was suddenly taken ill, and died in three days. I was with him in his last moments. He seemed to be utterly forsaken of the Lord from the beginning of his sickness. The most powerful medicines had no effect on him whatever.
Just as the sun of a beautiful Sabbath morning rose in its splendor over the eastern hills, he died -- in horrible agony. All through the night previous to his death, he suffered untold physical and mental torture. He offered the physicians all his earthly possessions if they would save his life. He was stubborn till the very last; and would not acknowledge his fear of death until a few moments before he died; then, suddenly he began to look, then to stare, horribly surprised and frightened, into the vacancy before him; then exclaimed, as if he beheld the king of terrors in all of his merciless wrath, "My God!"
The indescribable expression of his countenance, at this juncture, together with the despairing tones in which he uttered these last words, made every heart quake. His wife screamed, and begged a brother to pray for him; but he was so terror-stricken that he rushed out of the room. The dying man continued to stare in dreadful astonishment, his mouth wide open, and his eyes protruding out of their sockets, till at last with an awful groan,
"Like a flood with rapid force,
Death bore the wretch away."
His little three-year-old son, the idol of his father's heart, was convulsed with grief. This little boy, then so innocent, grew up to be a wicked young man, and died a horrible death.
Oh how sad! When we reflect that in hell there are millions of fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, hopelessly lost, given over forever to the mad ravages of eternal, pitiless wrath, ever frightened by real ghosts, tortured by serpents and scorpions, gnawed by the worm that never dies; and when we reflect that this, the future state of the wicked, will never abate its fury but, according to the natural law of sin, degradation and wretchedness, will grow worse and more furious as the black ages of eternity roll up from darker realms, we turn for relief from the sad reverie to the Man of Sorrows, who tasted death for every man, then to the beautiful city, whose builder and maker is God, to the bliss of the glorified who will shine as the stars for ever and ever;
then with renewed efforts we continue with gratitude to work out our own, and the salvation of others, with fear and trembling
Near the town of K___, in Texas, there lived and prospered, a wealthy farmer, the son of a Methodist preacher, with whom the writer was intimately acquainted. He was highly respected in the community in which he lived. He was a kind-hearted and benevolent man; but, however, had one great fault -- he was very profane. He would utter the most horrible oaths without, seemingly, the least provocation. On several occasions, I remember having seen him under deep conviction for salvation, during revival meetings. On one occasion, during a camp-meeting, he was brought under powerful conviction. He afterwards said he was suddenly frightened, and felt as if he wanted to run away from the place.
Just one year from that time, another camp-meeting was held at the same place, and he was again brought under conviction, but refused to yield; after which he was suddenly taken ill, and died in three days. I was with him in his last moments. He seemed to be utterly forsaken of the Lord from the beginning of his sickness. The most powerful medicines had no effect on him whatever.
Just as the sun of a beautiful Sabbath morning rose in its splendor over the eastern hills, he died -- in horrible agony. All through the night previous to his death, he suffered untold physical and mental torture. He offered the physicians all his earthly possessions if they would save his life. He was stubborn till the very last; and would not acknowledge his fear of death until a few moments before he died; then, suddenly he began to look, then to stare, horribly surprised and frightened, into the vacancy before him; then exclaimed, as if he beheld the king of terrors in all of his merciless wrath, "My God!"
The indescribable expression of his countenance, at this juncture, together with the despairing tones in which he uttered these last words, made every heart quake. His wife screamed, and begged a brother to pray for him; but he was so terror-stricken that he rushed out of the room. The dying man continued to stare in dreadful astonishment, his mouth wide open, and his eyes protruding out of their sockets, till at last with an awful groan,
"Like a flood with rapid force,
Death bore the wretch away."
His little three-year-old son, the idol of his father's heart, was convulsed with grief. This little boy, then so innocent, grew up to be a wicked young man, and died a horrible death.
Oh how sad! When we reflect that in hell there are millions of fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, hopelessly lost, given over forever to the mad ravages of eternal, pitiless wrath, ever frightened by real ghosts, tortured by serpents and scorpions, gnawed by the worm that never dies; and when we reflect that this, the future state of the wicked, will never abate its fury but, according to the natural law of sin, degradation and wretchedness, will grow worse and more furious as the black ages of eternity roll up from darker realms, we turn for relief from the sad reverie to the Man of Sorrows, who tasted death for every man, then to the beautiful city, whose builder and maker is God, to the bliss of the glorified who will shine as the stars for ever and ever;
then with renewed efforts we continue with gratitude to work out our own, and the salvation of others, with fear and trembling
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- Nov 21, 2009
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It was not a penitential prayer, but the wail of a lost soul.
"I AM IN THE FLAMES -- PULL ME OUT, PULL ME OUT!"
Mr. W____, the subject of this narrative, died in J____, New York, about the year 1883, at the age of seventy-four. He was an avowed infidel. He was a good neighbor in some respects, yet he was very wicked and made a scoff of Christianity. About seven years previous to his death he passed through a revival. The Spirit strove with him, but he resisted to the last.
One Sabbath after this, Mr. N -, who relates this sketch, was on his way to church and passed Mr. W____'s house, who was standing by the gate. He said, "Come with me to church, Mr. W____."
The infidel, holding out his hand, replied, "Show me a hair on the palm of my hand and I will show you a Christian."
During his last sickness, Mr. N called on him often and sat up with him several nights, and was with him when he died. The infidel was conscious of his near approaching end and of the terrors of his lost condition. He said once to Mr. N____, who, as a local worker, held meetings in school houses around, "Warn the world not to live as I have lived, and escape my woe."
At another time when visited by a doctor, he was groaning and making demonstrations of great agony. The doctor said, "Why do you groan, your disease is not painful?"
"O, doctor," said he, "it is not the body but the soul that troubles me."
On the evening of his death, Mr. N -came at ten o'clock. A friend of his was there also. As he entered the room he felt that it was filled with an awful presence as if he were near the region of the damned. The dying man cried out, "O God, deliver me from that awful pit!" It was not a penitential prayer, but the wail of a lost soul.
About fifteen minutes before his death, which was at twelve, he exclaimed, "I am in the flames -- pull me out, pull me out!" He kept repeating this until the breath left his body. As the bodily strength failed his words became more faint. At last Mr. N___ put his ear down close to catch his departing whispers, and the last words he could hear were, "Pull me out, pull me out!"
"It was an awful scene," said he. "It made an impression on me that I can never forget. I never want to witness such a scene again."
I was talking with my friend years after, and he said those words, "I am in the flames -- pull me out, pull me out!" were still ringing in his ears. -- Written for this book by Rev. C. A. Balch, Cloverville, N. Y.
"I AM IN THE FLAMES -- PULL ME OUT, PULL ME OUT!"
Mr. W____, the subject of this narrative, died in J____, New York, about the year 1883, at the age of seventy-four. He was an avowed infidel. He was a good neighbor in some respects, yet he was very wicked and made a scoff of Christianity. About seven years previous to his death he passed through a revival. The Spirit strove with him, but he resisted to the last.
One Sabbath after this, Mr. N -, who relates this sketch, was on his way to church and passed Mr. W____'s house, who was standing by the gate. He said, "Come with me to church, Mr. W____."
The infidel, holding out his hand, replied, "Show me a hair on the palm of my hand and I will show you a Christian."
During his last sickness, Mr. N called on him often and sat up with him several nights, and was with him when he died. The infidel was conscious of his near approaching end and of the terrors of his lost condition. He said once to Mr. N____, who, as a local worker, held meetings in school houses around, "Warn the world not to live as I have lived, and escape my woe."
At another time when visited by a doctor, he was groaning and making demonstrations of great agony. The doctor said, "Why do you groan, your disease is not painful?"
"O, doctor," said he, "it is not the body but the soul that troubles me."
On the evening of his death, Mr. N -came at ten o'clock. A friend of his was there also. As he entered the room he felt that it was filled with an awful presence as if he were near the region of the damned. The dying man cried out, "O God, deliver me from that awful pit!" It was not a penitential prayer, but the wail of a lost soul.
About fifteen minutes before his death, which was at twelve, he exclaimed, "I am in the flames -- pull me out, pull me out!" He kept repeating this until the breath left his body. As the bodily strength failed his words became more faint. At last Mr. N___ put his ear down close to catch his departing whispers, and the last words he could hear were, "Pull me out, pull me out!"
"It was an awful scene," said he. "It made an impression on me that I can never forget. I never want to witness such a scene again."
I was talking with my friend years after, and he said those words, "I am in the flames -- pull me out, pull me out!" were still ringing in his ears. -- Written for this book by Rev. C. A. Balch, Cloverville, N. Y.
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God is not a monster! God is not a legalistic Pharisee.
Anyone who turns to Christ by faith will be saved and will be in paradise.
As long as someone keeps trusting in the merits of Christ, they are saved and will be given eternal life in heaven.
Anyone who turns to Christ by faith will be saved and will be in paradise.
As long as someone keeps trusting in the merits of Christ, they are saved and will be given eternal life in heaven.
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