I pity the infidel. I pity the one who sins. That one who has no stand in the word of God. That one building a castle on sand.
I have mine built on solid Rock. No waters can swallow me. Whatever comes my way, I care less, for I am hidden in the lamb. Under His wings, I abide. Sometimes I was lost like the infidel is, but now I am found. I know in whom I have believed.
I pity the sinner. For his path is destruction. I pity the infidel defiling his matrimonial bed; I pity the petty sinner who risks losing eternity. I pity the homosexual ardent and persistent in their crooked ways. I pity the drunkard addicted to his glass—a prisoner to his liquor or the tobacco smoker to his pipe. Oh, how I feel sorry for the sorcerer and the prostitute out in the street tonight. Oh, how I pity you holding onto that habit that fetters you to the highway to hell.
Blessed am I, for I have washed my robes in the blood of the lamb. I in whom the Lord delights and calls me His. He knows me by name and has numbered all my hair. When He comes in the clouds, I shall meet him in the sky and rise to reign with Him eternally. Praise be His name.
I pity the unjust corrupt men of the government who take bribes all day, the pastors that elope with their flock’s wives, and deaconesses who wear a facade all day. I pity that sinner. I pity those who are depressed and drowning in loneliness and drugs. I am happy. I am comfortable. I am at peace and in need of nothing. Oh, how I pity the man with the slanderous tongue. For all these will not see the Father in that city four square. In that city that Christ has gone to prepare. In that city, beautiful and pristine, where no sin can be spotted. All these will not enter my home – the city of God. “For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers and idolaters and whosoever loves and makes a lie. Only he that overcomes shall inherit the earth, and I will be His God, and he shall be my son” —thus saith the Lord. “But the fearful and unbelieving infidel and the abominable and the murderers and whoremongers and sorcerers and idolaters and all liars shall have a part in that lake that burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”
Wait a moment. This apparent confidence almost feels like a rant. Did I just say the fearful, the unbelieving, the infidel? These will not get to my home. How still can it be my home when I am not part of it? I honestly have loads of care. Deep down, I doubt his grace severally; my sin of unbelief is a great undoing. How still can it be my home? Hold on, one thing I forgot. Whosoever loves and makes a lie, a thing that is almost my daily cup of tea. Like, come on, who doesn’t? I lie about my location, my activity, my state, and this happens all the time. I am imperfect. And you like me too, having no place in the world pristine by own power. For being lukewarm, the revelator records that He will spew us out of His mouth. Because I have said in my heart, I am rich and increased with good and need nothing. Many times in our hearts have we affirmed this, yet we knew not that we are miserable and poor and blind and naked and undone.
I am a sinner. I am the infidel I so pity. In no way are my deeds right before God. In no power by myself have I the strength to resist evil except by the power of Christ. My heart is naturally inclined to wickedness.
Outside that city, in desolate darkness, I pity myself, for in it I am languishing in devastation for so great a loss, having lost access to that holy home by virtue of the fall. I am fallen and unclean, and no unclean thing can breathe the air. Looking around me, I see no hope, for in the folly of my heart, I saw myself perfect.
A perfection that counts for nothing but filth, woe unto me for I am as a man dead. Dead, for in me, I see no hope of life. Where would I turn? To whom shall I look? Would I like the Psalmist, look to the hills? From whence would my help come?
Looking above, I see a glorious emblem, that mighty cross that stands upon Calvary. The lamb of God slain, standing upon Zion’s magnificent summit. Yonder I see my savior who bids me come, just as I am. Imperfect, wretched, and blind. Battered by the winds of life, He bids me go to Him. In my judgemental and self-righteous character, have I played an infidel to His law of love. Pitting the sinner in oblivion that I am he. Having wandered far from God, He beckons me. The savior nailed on the cross, with arms open wide, invites you like me to a banquet, His banquet. To count the cost, take up the cross and follow Him. That in a life meek and lowly, noble as His own, we may tread in His path, even unto glory. That by His blood and merit, His home may be ours too. His father may be ours also, and in His kingdom, we may find a place.
A price too dear the master paid for us. By His life and blood, He bought you. I know you didn’t ask Him to do it, but He did voluntarily out of infinite love. He has freed you from the chains and curse of sin. In the day we fell in the garden in days of old, all that was left for us was suffering and death under the oppressive hand of the evil one. But for love like has had none else who has ever and will ever live, the father gave His Son. The holy one, Commander in Chief of the heavenly hosts, exalted and beloved of heaven for an infidel such as you and I, that this wicked carnal heart should be saved and freed from the grasp of eternal damnation.
O soul lost in sin and infidelity to His law, to you I appeal this day. By His blood, choose life. No sin is too grave for Him to pardon, no stain too crimson for Him to make white, no man too much an infidel for the King to make whole. Stop wallowing in self-pity and covering it with vane self-righteousness. There is hope for a look at the man of Calvary.