Thomas Adams - Heaven Made Sure - Part 1

Heaven Made Sure

Thomas Adams (1583-1652)

“Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation.”

–Psalm 35:3

The words contain a petition for a benediction. The supplicant is a king, and his humble suit is to the King of kings: the king of Israel prays to the King of heaven and earth. He doth beg two things: (1.) That God would save him. (2.) That God would certify him of it. So that the text may be distributed accordingly, into salvation, and the assurance of it. The assurance lies first in the words, and shall have the first place in my discourse; wherein I conceive two things—the matter, and the manner. The matter is assurance; the manner, how assured: ‘Say unto my soul.’

I. From the matter, or assurance, observe:

A. That salvation may be made sure to a man. David would never pray for that which could not be. Nor would St. Peter charge us with a duty which stood not in possibility to be performed: 2 Peter 1:10, ‘make your election sure.’ And to stop the bawling throats of all cavilling adversaries, Paul directly proves it: 2 Corinthians 13:5, ‘Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates?’ We may then know that Christ is in us: if Christ be in us, we are in Christ; if we be in Christ, we cannot be condemned; for, Romans 8:1, ‘There is no damnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.’

B. That the best saints have desired to make their salvation sure. David that knew it, yet

entreats to know it more. Psalm 41:2, ‘I know thou favourest me,’ yet here still, ‘say unto my soul, I am thy salvation.’ A man can never be too sure of his going to heaven. If we purchase an inheritance on earth, we make it as sure, and our tenure as strong, as the brawn of the law, or the brains of the lawyers, can devise. We have conveyance, and bonds, and fines, no strength too much. And shall we not be more curious in the settling our eternal inheritance in heaven? Even the best certainty hath often, in this, thought

itself weak. Here we find matter of consolation, of reprehension, of admonition: comfort to some, reproof to others, warning to all.

Of consolation. Even David desires better assurance: to keep us from dejection, behold, they often think themselves weakest that are the strongest. He calls himself the ‘chiefest of sinners,’ 1 Timothy 1:15, that was not the least of saints. Indeed sometimes a dear saint may want feeling of the spirit of comfort. Grace comes into the soul as the morning sun into the world: there is first a dawning, then a mean light, and at last the sun in his excellent brightness. In a Christian life there is professio, profectio, perfectio. A profession of the name of Christ wrought in our conversion; not the husk of religion, but the sap: ‘A pure heart, a good conscience, and faith unfeigned.’ Next, there is a profection, or going forward in grace, ‘working up our salvation in fear and trembling.’ Last, a perfection or full assurance, that we are ‘sealed up to the day of redemption.’

And yet after this full assurance there may be some fear: it is not the commendation of

this certainty to be void of doubting. The wealthiest saints have suspected their poverty; and the richest in grace are yet ‘poorest in spirit.’ As it is seen in rich misers: they possess much, yet esteem it little in respect of what they desire; for the fullness of riches cannot answer the insatiable affection. Whence it comes to pass that they have restless thoughts,

and vexing cares for that they have not, not caring for that they have. So many good men, rich in the graces of God’s Spirit, are so desirous of more, that they regard not what they enjoy, but what they desire: complaining often that they have no grace, no love, no life.

This is the sweetest comfort that can come to a man in this life, even a heaven upon

earth, to be ascertained of his salvation. There are many mysteries in the world, which curious wits with perplexful studies strive to apprehend. But without this, ‘he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow,’ Ecclesiastes 1:18. This one thing is only necessary; whatsoever I leave unknown, let me know this, that I am the Lord’s. He may without danger be ignorant of other things that truly knows Jesus Christ.

There is no potion of misery so embittered with gall but this can sweeten it with a

comfortable relish. When enemies assault us, get us under, triumph over us, imagining

that salvation itself cannot save us, what is our comfort? ‘I know whom I have believed,’ I am sure the Lord will not forsake me. Thou wantest bread; God is thy bread of life. We want a pillow; God is our ‘resting-place,’ Psalm 32:7. We may be without apparel, not without faith; without meat, not with out Christ; without a house, never without the Lord. What state can there be wherein the stay of this heavenly assurance gives us not peace and joy?

Are we clapped up in a dark and desolate dungeon? There the light of the sun cannot

enter, the light of mercy not be kept out. What restrained body, that hath the assurance of this eternal peace, will not pity the darkness of the profane man’s liberty, or rather the liberty of his darkness? No walls can keep out an infinite spirit; no darkness can be uncomfortable where ‘the Father of lights,’ James 1:17, and the ‘Sun of righteousness,’ Malachi 4:2, shineth. The presence of glorious angels is much, but of the most glorious God is enough.

Are we cast out in exile, our backs to our native home? All the world is our way. Whither can we go from God? Psalm 139:7, ‘Whither shall I go from thy face? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?’ That exile would be strange that could separate us from God. I speak not of those poor and common comforts, that in all lands and coasts it is his sun that shines, his elements of earth or water that bear us, his air we breathe; but of that special privilege, that his gracious presence is ever with us; that no sea is so broad as to divide us from his favour; that wheresoever we feed, he is our host; wheresoever we rest, the wings of his blessed providence are stretched over us. Let my soul be sure of this, though the whole world be traitors to me.

Doth the world despise us? We have sufficient recompense that God esteems us. How unworthy is that man of God’s favour that cannot go away contented with it without the world’s! Doth it hate us much? God hates it more. That is not ever worthy which man honours; but that is ever base which God despises. Without question, the world would be our friend if God were our enemy. The sweetness of both cannot be enjoyed; let it content us we have the best.