O consider, dear soul, the stubbornness of the natural man! He doth not come gently to Christ, as though grace were a suitor and he the sovereign. Nay, he resists. He strives against God’s Spirit, hardens his neck, and flees from the holy pursuit of heaven. He is not merely indifferent, but actively opposed, loving darkness rather than light, because his deeds are evil.

And were it not for sovereign grace, he would continue in this rebellion unto perdition. He runs—from truth, from mercy, from the hand that would heal him. His feet are swift to mischief, and his heart is set on its own destruction.

But here is the glory of grace: it doth not stand afar off waiting to be chosen—it overtakes. The Lord runs faster than the sinner. The grace of God is not a weak persuasion, but an almighty conquest. It subdues the will, captures the affections, and bends the knee that once stood defiant.

So let no man boast that he found Christ, as though he had accomplished the journey. Rather, let him confess, “I was fleeing still, but grace laid hold of me.” This is the marrow of our comfort: that salvation is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God who showeth mercy.