John Newton: When our thoughts and actions do not agree

Letter to a Nobleman, Letter 5

March, 1772

My Lord,

I think my last letter was based on Paul's words in Galatians 5:17, “You cannot do the things that you want to do." Romans 7:19 is a parallel passage to this, but in that location Paul adds another clause— “The evil that I do not want to do, that I do." If you put these two ideas together, you will have a complete picture of the dark side of my experience. To illustrate this passage, please allow me to tell you a little part—not of what I have read, but what I have experienced. I will tell you just a little part, for some things cannot and must not be told.

I do not want to be captured by wild, vain, or even worse imaginations, but this evil is present with me—my heart is like a highway, like a city without walls or gates. The most false, absurd, impossile—even horrid idea can come into my mind. And it doesn't matter where or when! No place is exempt—the study, the pulpit, not even the Lord's table can keep such thoughts away. Sometimes I think of my words as the treble clef of an instrument, while my thoughts are the bass (maybe I should say, anti-bass), in which every rule of harmony is broken. Rather than a pleasant sound, all that I hear is discord and confusion, utterly inconsistent with the intended melody.

Oh, what music would my prayers and preaching make in the ears of the Lord of hosts, if he listened to them as they are mine only! Those around me who hear me pray or preach can only hear my words—the melody of the music; but I am held back from accepting their praises because my conscience tells me they would be astonished and disgusted if they could hear the whole song.

But even though I cannot completely avoid these terrible effects of my depraved heart, I still don't want to allow or indulge this inconsistency. Yet that is what I end up doing. In spite of my best judgment and desires, I find something inside me that cherishes and clings to evil thoughts. I should be startled by these ideas and flee from them, just like I would if someone put a toad or a snake in my food or in my bed; but I don't. How wicked must my heart be, when it will entertain such abominations, even when I know so well their nature and tendency. Anyone who finds himself capable of this (regardless of how good he looks on the outside) should easily consider himself less than the least of all saints, and the chief of sinners—and do so without any sense of false humility.

I never want to be influenced by my self, yet I am often guilty of this evil. As clearly as I can see the sun, I can see how low and absurd such actions are. I do not go around pretending that I am ten feet tall, and I know that desiring to be thought of as wise or good is just as contrary to reason and truth. I would be grieved or angry if other people even thought I wanted to be seen as wise or good. This tells me that even though I complain about my self, it plays a considerable role in motivating my desires to hide its influence. When I see pride in others, it offends me and makes me try hard to hide my own, because their good opinion of me depends on their not perceiving my pride. But the Lord knows how this dead fly (see Ecclesiastes 10:1) taints and spoils my best services and makes them no better than glossed over sins.

I do not want to give in to vain reasonings concerning the wisdom or ways of God's providence, yet I am prone to do it. That the Judge of all the earth will do right (Gen. 18:25) is to me as clear and necessary as that two and two make four. I believe that He has a sovereign right to do what He wills with His own, and that this sovereignty is just another name for the unlimited exercise of wisdom and goodness. But when I look at the hard and mysterious events of life, I often reason like I had never heard of these principles or had even renounced them. I feel a presumptuous spirit that tries to explain everything and tries to dispute what it can't comprehend. What an evil thing this is, for a piece of pottery to contend with its Maker! I do not act this way toward my fellow creatures; I do not find fault with the decisions of a judge, or the directions of a military leader. Even though I know they are fallible, I grant that they are wiser in their areas of expertise than I am. But I take this liberty with God, where it is most unreasonable and inexcusable.

It is not my desire to hold on to the idea of earning righteousness by good works. After all that I have just written, it would seem that I have plenty of reasons never to think this way. But I still persist in it. I desire to pray like David did, “Do not enter into judgment with your servant, O Lord." I embrace it as a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners (1 Tim. 1:15). It is the main pleasure and business of my life to preach the necessity and all-sufficiency of Christ and to proclaim his righteousness alone. But here, as in everything else, I find a vast gap between my judgment and my experience. God invites me to take the water of life freely, yet I am often discouraged because I have no money to pay for it. If I am sometimes blessed with some freedom from the evils I've spoken of, it usually just makes me think better of myself, rather than admire the Lord's goodness to such an unworthy creature. When my corruptions return, and they convince me that I am still the same, an unbelieving spirit of legalism urges me to conclude that the Lord has changed, or at the very least, I begin to feel weary of being dependent on him for his constant forgiveness. Sometimes I fear that my fighting against sin and my aspiration to be holy is secretly motivated by a desire to not be so absolutely indebted to him.

This, my lord, is just a faint sketch of my heart, but it is taken from actual life. I would need a book rather than a letter to fill in the details. But I believe you will not regret that I will say no more on this subject. Although my disease is grievous, is is not desperate. I have a gracious and infallible Physician. “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord." (Psalm 118:17)