LONG before the power in Russia was seized by apostate Jews, and the last of the Romanoffs, and his family were butchered in a cellar, the people were restless, and often on the verge of a revolt; for, though the Czars were styled “the little father,” they were tyrants with few exceptions, and some of them well deserved the title “terrible.” Nicholas I was one who ruled the people with an iron hand, and early in his reign they rebelled against him. A roaring mob surrounded the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, threatening death to the Czar and his consort, who were watching them from within. It looked as though their last hour had come, when suddenly Nicholas took up his six months old child, the heir to the throne, and stepping out upon the balcony, he faced the multitudes that surged like an angry sea in the vast palace square. He was a young man, handsome, tall and splendid in his strength. He did not speak, he just stood there with the babe in his arms. A silence fell on the mob, which seemed more awful than its rage. Then came sobs, and then a tempest of cheers. An emotional people were moved by the sight of the solitary Czar and his mute babe, by this confidence that he showed in them, and they sensed that the babe in his arms most surely meant peace and not war, that it was an ambassador and pledge of goodwill, and not oppression. The people were won, and the dynasty was saved, and it was the showing by the Czar of his only son to the people that saved it.
The world that God loved was in rebellion against Him, and it had no cause for its rebellion, for He is no tyrant, but the faithful Creator, and He had never left men without a witness as to His kind thoughts towards them. Paul told this to the worshippers of the idol Jupiter in the city of Lystra. Said he, “He did good, and gave us rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.” And again, he told the great philosophers at Athens that “He giveth to all, life and breath and all things.” But men were not thankful for His gifts, they did not acknowledge Him as the Giver of them, they hated Him and would not hear His word. Then He said, “I have one Son, I will send Him. They will reverence My Son.” It was as though God said, “I will show them My very heart, I will prove to them that I am not against them. My Son shall be the pledge and proof of My love to them. I cannot do more; this is My last and My best.”
And Jesus came―He came as a Babe in the manger, the great sign that God would be at peace with men. The Babe was God’s love gift to the world; His only begotten Son. He came full of grace and truth; He came preaching peace; He came not to condemn the world, but to save it. He stood before the world showing forth the heart of God who sent Him; He was not silent, but spoke of love that passes all bounds of human thought. But men had no ears to listen to His message. When they saw Him, they hated Him and His Father who sent Him, and they had no pity, but cried, “Let us kill Him,” “Away with Him,” “Crucify Him.” The world’s rebellion was not quelled by the sight of God’s only begotten Son, nor was its heart changed by it; instead, His coming brought that rebellion to its culmination and they murdered Him. But the murder of the Son of God did not turn back the tide of blessing that sprang up in the heart of God; instead, it opened wide the floodgates, that the living waters might flow forth in everlasting blessing. God turned the evil and hatred of men to His own ends, so that now, “Whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” That blessing is flowing still, and though millions have been supplied, it flows as fresh as ever, for it is as inexhaustible as it is blessed.
There is a question that is sometimes raised, and it is an important one, as to why, if the crucifixion of the Son of God at Calvary only fulfilled what God intended, and was the great evidence of His love to the world, why should that act be looked upon as the greatest crime of the world? Why, for instance, since “the Son of Man must be lifted up,” should Jesus Himself charge the Jews with being guilty of the act, when He said to them, “When ye have lifted up the Son of Man, then shall ye know that I am He”? Could man be held responsible for that which God had predetermined?
God knew beforehand, of course, that the revelation of His best would only provoke the worst that was in men, for He knew all that was in man from the beginning, though it required the supreme test to bring it out. But it had to come out, for the truth as to all things must be manifested; the truth as to God, the truth as to men, and the truth as to the devil. And all did come out at the cross, there the thoughts of many hearts were revealed. God was not responsible for the evil that was in the hearts of men, but He showed His supremacy over all by restraining that evil for a while, and then when the hour came, and it gushed forth in unrestrained and determined hatred against Him, by turning it into the channel by which it became the means of glorifying Him, and more wonderful still, the way of blessing for men. He knew what men would do, and predetermined that their act should thus turn to a triumph of His love.
But let no one suppose that what the Lord Jesus suffered at the hands of men secured redemption for us. When it says that He was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities, we must think deeper than of His flesh torn and bruised by the nails and thorns, and if we can say, “by His stripes we are healed,” we must think of something other than the scourging to which Pilate so unjustly condemned Him. “It pleased the Lord to bruise Him,” i.e. instead of the unsparing judgment of God coming with its crushing weight upon us, God chose that it should fall upon Him and He gave Him to be our Substitute and to bear it in our stead. He was lifted up by men, the object of their hatred and derision, but when they had done their worst, the sixth hour came, tolling in the darkness that was denser than that that enshrouded Egypt, and such as creation had never seen before; then there took place what no creature mind will ever fully understand, His soul was made an offering for sin, and God made Him, our sinless Substitute, to be sin for us, and He bore our sins in His own body on the Tree. “Through the Eternal Spirit He offered Himself without spot to God.” It is this that explains―what is, indeed, beyond all our comprehension―that cry that will never be forgotten, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” which being interpreted is, “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” The more we consider that, and the more its meaning enters our souls, the greater will be our wondering appreciation of our great text and the love of God which it reveals to us.
The death of Jesus was an atoning death; there never was, there never will be another like it. He suffered, the Just One, for us the unjust, to bring us to God, and that is why we shall sing to Him, “Thou art worthy, for Thou hast redeemed us to God by Thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue and people and nation.” For the efficacy of His atoning blood extends to the whole world, and whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.