What Dreams May Come

In a letter to a friend, John Newton recounts a dream he had early in life before a lasting surrender to his savior was realized. This surrender came years later, but the dream was as a seed planted in the blackest of soil, that though it may be forgotten for a time because it is not seen, it will appear again, yielding its fruit.

Though I have wrote out a relation of this dream more than once for others, it has happened that I never reserved a copy; but the principal incidents are so deeply engraven on my memory, that I believe I am not liable to any considerable variations in repeating the account. 

The scene presented to my imagination was the harbour of Venice, where we had lately been. I thought it was night, and my watch upon the deck; and that, as I was walking to and fro by myself, a person came to me, (I do not remember from whence,) and brought me a ring, with an express charge to keep it carefully; assuring me, that while I preserved that ring, I should be happy and successful; but if I lost or parted with it, I must expect nothing but trouble and misery. I accepted the present and the terms willingly, not in the least doubting my own care to preserve it, and highly satisfied to have my happiness in my own keeping. I was engaged in these thoughts, when a second person came to me, and observing the ring on my finger, took occasion to ask me some questions concerning it. I readily told him its virtues; and his answer expressed a surprise at my weakness, in expecting such effects from a ring. I think he reasoned with me some time upon the impossibility of the thing; and at length urged me, in direct terms, to throw it away. At first I was shocked at the proposal; but his insinuations prevailed. I began to reason and doubt myself; and at last plucked it off my finger, and dropped it over the ship’s side into the water: which it had no sooner touched, than I saw, the same instant, a terrible fire burst out from a range of the mountains, (apart of the Alps,) which appeared at some distance behind the city of Venice. I saw the hills as distinct as if awake, and they were all in flames. I perceived too late my folly; and my tempter, with an air of insult, informed me, that all the mercy God had in reserve for me was comprised in that ring, which I had wilfully thrown away. I understood that I must now go with him to the burning mountains; and that all the flames I saw were kindled upon my account. I trembled, and was in a great agony; so that it was surprising I did not then awake: but my dream continued; and when I thought myself upon the point of a constrained departure, and stood self-condemned, without plea or hope, suddenly either a third person, or the same who brought the ring at first, came to me, (I am not certain which,) and demanded the cause of my grief. I told him the plain case, confessing that I had ruined myself wilfully, and deserved no pity. He blamed my rashness; and asked, if I should be wiser supposing I had my ring again? I could hardly answer to this; for I thought it was gone beyond recall. I believe, indeed, I had not time to answer, before I saw this unexpected friend go down under the water, just in the spot where I had dropped it; and he soon returned, bringing the ring with him. The moment he came on board, the flames in the mountains were extinguished, and my seducer left me. Then was “the prey taken from the hand of the mighty, and the lawful captive delivered.” My fears were at an end, and with joy and gratitude I approached my kind deliverer to receive the ring again: but he refused to return it, and spoke to this affect: “If you should be intrusted with this ring again, you would very soon bring yourself into the same distress; you are not able to keep it: but I will preserve it for you, and, whenever it is needful, will produce it in your behalf.”

Upon this I awoke in a state of mind not to be described: I could hardly eat or sleep, or transact my necessary business, for two or three days. But the impression soon wore off, and in a little time I totally forgot it; and I think it hardly occurred to my mind again, till several years afterwards. It will appear, in the course of these papers, that a time came, when I found myself in circumstances very nearly resembling those suggested by this extraordinary dream, when I stood helpless and hopeless upon the brink of an awful eternity: and I doubt not but, had the eyes of my mind been then opened, I should have seen my grand enemy, who had seduced me wilfully to renounce and cast awav my religious profession, and to involve myself in the most complicated crimes; I say, I should probably have seen him pleased with my agonies, and waiting for a permission to seize and bear away my soul to his place of torment.

Candor

I had a cup of coffee today with a man who is a Jehovah’s Witness (JW). We met at a Starbuck’s. Probably not very neutral ground since everybody who works there knows me, but neutral enough even still. He had come to my house a couple of times on a Saturday morning and I told him I would meet with him over a cup of coffee as long as it was just the two of us. He agreed, and so we met today and talked for about an hour and a half.

Normally, I would not have done this but this time my heart went out to this man. After about ten minutes of small talk and getting to know each other, we started talking about doctrine. My biggest argument with a JW is that we do not believe in this same Christ; they believe he is created by God, and I believe He is God, not a god, but The God. Therefore their gospel is a false and different gospel. Now, I could have used candor as a sword and bluntness as a beating club to tell this guy whats what and why our doctrines are not the same to say nothing of their incompatibility but that would not be very Christ-like. If I use truth and neglect to mix it with love, then I am not treating others as Christ has treated me.

This morning, before I went to work, I read a letter John Newton wrote entitled On Candour. If you are not acquainted with Newton, he was the man who wrote Amazing Grace. This is a hymn that brings me to tears every time I begin singing it or listen to it. The letter stayed with me all day and I felt as though it was a grace from God in itself to help set my mind and heart right for talking to this man today. Just before we parted, I told him, “I did not meet with you today so I could talk or debate with a Jehovah’s Witness. I met with you today because I wanted to talk to you.” I may never see or talk to him again, but I thank God for what He has taught me through this. I was able to talk to this man with candor, but the candor as Newton says, is a Christian grace.

 

“True candour is a Christian grace, and will grow in no soil but a believing heart. It is an eminent and amiable property of that love which beareth, believeth, hopeth, and endureth all things. It forms the most favourable judgment of persons and characters, and puts the kindest construction upon the conduct of others that it possibly can, consistent with the love of truth. It makes due allowances for the infirmities of human nature; will not listen with pleasure to what is said to the disadvantage of any, nor repeat it without a justifiable cause. It will not be confined within the walls of a party, nor restrain the actings of benevolence to those whom it fully approves; but prompts the mind to an imitation of him who is kind to the unthankful and the evil, and has taught us to consider every person we see as our neighbour.

Were there more candour among those who profess to love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, the emotions of anger or scorn would not be so often felt or excited, by pronouncing or hearing the words Churchman, or Dissenter,or Calvinist, or even Arminian. Let us, my friend, be candid: let us remember how totally ignorant we ourselves once were; how often we have changed our sentiments in one particular or other, since we first engaged in the search of truth; how often we have been imposed upon by appearances; and to how many different persons and occurrences we have been indebted, under God, for the knowledge which we have already attained. Let us likewise consider what treatment we like to meet with from others; and do unto them as we would they should do unto us. These considerations will make the exercise of candour habitual and easy.”

-John Newton, from a letter On Candour; volume 1 of Works; Banner of Truth Trust, 1988 edition; pages 356-358

A Proof of Our Depravity

John Newton (1725-1807) raises a good point about our misplaced affection for the judgement of man over the judgement of God.

“With respect to our sins being made known to others, I acknowledge with you, that I could not now bear to have any of my fellow-creatures made acquainted with what passes in my heart for a single day; but I apprehend it is a part and a proof of my present depravity, that I feel myself disposed to pay so great a regard to the judgment of men, while I am so little affected with what I am in the sight of the pure and holy God.

But I believe that hereafter, when self shall be entirely rooted out, and my will perfectly united to the divine will, I should feel no reluctance, supposing it for the manifestation of his glorious grace, that men, angels, and devils, should know the very worst of me. Whether it will be so or no, I dare not determine. Perhaps the difficulty chiefly lies in the necessity of our being at present taught heavenly things by earthly. ”

How Not to Listen to Sermons

Found this helpful (and convicting) Newton quote over at Miscellanies:

John Newton penned a brilliant letter on how to profit from sermons [Works, 1:224–225]. First, Newton explains how one should listen to sermons:

As a hearer, you have a right to try all doctrines by the word of God; and it is your duty so to do. Faithful ministers will remind you of this: they will not wish to hold you in an implicit and blind obedience to what they say, upon their own authority, nor desire that you should follow them farther than they have the Scripture for their warrant. They would not be lords over your conscience, but helpers of your joy. Prize this Gospel liberty, which sets you free from the doctrines and commandments of men; but do not abuse it to the purposes of pride and self.

Then Newton explains how not to listen to sermons:

There are hearers who make themselves, and not the Scripture, the standard of their judgment. They attend not so much to be instructed, as to pass their sentence. To them, the pulpit is the bar at which the minister stands to take his trial before them; a bar at which few escape censure, from judges at once so severe and inconsistent.

Excellent balance.

HT: Tony Reinke