It is most needful, ere we proceed with the subject which has been engaging our attention, that the whole world, as such, and each human heart, in particular, should be seen and judged in the light of the moral glory of Christ—that divine and perfect test by which every one and everything must be tried. Christ is God's standard for all; and the more fully and faithfully the world and self are measured thereby, the better. The grand question for the whole world, and for each human heart, is this, " How has Christ been treated?—what have we done with Him?" God sent His only begotten Son into the world, as the expression of His love to sinners. He said, "It may be they will reverence my Son, when they see him." Did they do so? Alas! no. " They said, This is the heir; come let us kill him." It was thus the world treated Christ.
And, be it observed, it was not the world, in its dark pagan form, that so treated the blessed One. No; it was the world of the religious Jew, and of the polished and cultivated Greek. It was not into the dark places of the earth, as men speak, that Jesus came; but into the very midst of His own highly favored people " who were Israelites; to whom pertained the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises." It was to them He came, in meekness, lowliness, and love. It was among them He lived and labored, and " went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil, for God was with him." How did they treat Him? This is the question; let us ponder it deeply, and ponder, too, the answer. They preferred a murderer to the holy, spotless, loving Jesus. The world—the heart, got its choice. Jesus and Barabbas were set before it; and the question was put, " Which will you have? " What was the answer—the deliberate, determined, answer? " Not this man, but Barabbas. Now Barabbas was a robber."
Tremendous fact!—a fact little weighed, little understood, little entered into—a fact which stamps the character of this present world, and tests and makes manifest the state of every unrepentant, unconverted heart beneath the canopy of heaven. If I want a true view of the world—of nature—of the human heart—of myself, whither shall I turn? To police reports? To the calendars of our Grand Juries? To the various statistics of the social and moral condition of our cities and towns? Nay; all these, it is true, may set before us facts which fill the soul with horror, and make the blood run cold. But let it be distinctly seen, and deeply felt, that all the facts that were ever recorded of crime, in its blackest and most fearful forms, arc net to be compared with that one fact, the rejection and crucifixion of the Lord of glory. This crime stands cut in bold and black relief from the background of man's entire history, and fixes the true condition of the world, of man, of nature, of self.
Now, it is this we are anxious to urge upon the heart of the reader, ere we proceed to the second division of our subject. We do want, him to seize this great, this potent fact. We have, again and again, referred to it, in the pages of "Things New and Old;" but it cannot possibly be too much enforced. It is the only way in which to get a right sense of what the world is, and of what the human heart is. Men may speak of the vast improvement which has taken place in the world, and of the dignity of human nature; but ah! the heart turns back to that hour in the which the world, when called to make a choice between the Lord of glory and a murderer, deliberately selected the latter and nailed the former to a tree, between two malefactors. This crime of crimes remains, so far as the world is concerned, uncanceled, unforgiven. It stands recorded, in dark and awful characters, on the eternal page. And not only is this so, as regards the world as a whole, but it also holds good, in reference to the unrepentant, unconverted reader of these lines. The solemn question still remains to be answered—answered by the world—answered by the individual sinner, namely, " What have you done with the Son of God? What has become of Him? How have you treated Him? " Of what use is it to point to the progress of the human race? to the march of civilization? to the advance of the arts and sciences? to railroads and telegraphs? to Armstrong guns and iron clad ships? to the ten thousand forms in which human genius has tasked itself in order to minister to human lust, luxury and self-indulgence! All these things might be far outweighed by the misery, the moral degradation, the squalid poverty, the ignorance and vice in which more than nine-tenths of the human race are, at this moment, involved.
But it is not thus we meet the question at all. We do not attempt to put barbarism against civilization, poverty against luxury, grossness against refinement, ignorance against intelligence; by no means. We have but the one test, the one standard, the one gauge, and that is the cross to which Jesus was nailed by the representatives of this world's religion, its science, its politics, and its civilization.
It is here we take our stand and ask this question, Has the world ever yet repented of this act? Nay; for had it done so, the kingdoms of this world would have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ. It is here we take our stand, and ask the reader, Have you repented of this act? He may say, "I never did it. It was done by wicked Jews and wicked Romans, eighteen hundred and thirty three years ago. How could I be counted guilty of a crime which was committed so many centuries before I was born? "
We reply, It was the act of the world, and you are either, at this moment, part and parcel of that world which stands before God under the guilt of the murder of His Son, or you have, as a repentant and converted soul, found refuge and shelter in the pardoning love of God. There is no middle ground, and the more clearly you see this the better, for in no way can you have a just sense of the condition of this world, or of your own heart, save in the light which is cast thereon by the life and death of Christ, as a test. We cannot stop short of this mark, if we would form a true estimate of the character of the world, the nature of man, the condition of the unconverted soul. In so far as the world is concerned, there can be no real improvement in its condition, no radical change in its state, until the sword of divine judgment has settled the question of its treatment of the Son of God; and, in so far as the individual sinner is concerned, the divine testimony is, "Repent and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out."
But this leads us, in the second place, to contemplate
CHRIST AS A VICTIM.
This is a much more pleasing subject to dwell upon, though, surely, the other must never be omitted, in preaching Christ. It is too much lost sight of in our preaching. We do not sufficiently press home upon the conscience of the sinner, Christ both in life and death, as a test of nature's true condition, and a proof of its irremediable ruin. The law may be used, and rightly so, no doubt, to do its testing work in the conscience, and yet, through the blindness and folly of our hearts, we may attempt to take up that very law in order to work out a righteousness for ourselves—that law by which, when rightly viewed, is the knowledge of sin. But it is impossible for any one to have his eves opened to see the death of Christ as the terrible exhibition of the enmity of the heart against God, and not be convinced of this that he is utterly and hopelessly ruined and undone. This is true repentance. It is the moral judgment, not merely of my acts, but of my nature, in the light of the cross as the only perfect test of what that nature really is.
All this is very fully brought out, in the preaching of Peter, in the earlier chapters of the Acts of the Apostles. Look, for example, at the second chapter, where we find the Holy Ghost presenting Christ both as a test and as a victim. " Ye men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man approved of God among you, by miracles and wonders and signs, which God did, by him, in the midst of you, as ye yourselves also know. Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain; whom God hath raised up, having loosed the pains of death; because it was not possible that he should be holden of it........Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ."
Here we have solemn and pungent dealing with conscience as to the way in which they had treated the Lord's Anointed. It was not merely that they had broken the law; that was true; nor yet that they had merely rejected all the inferior messengers, the minor witnesses that had been sent to them; that was equally true, but that was not all; they had actually crucified and slain " a man approved of God," and that Man none other than the Son of God Himself. This was the naked and startling fact which the inspired preacher urges home, with solemn emphasis, upon the consciences of his hearers.
And, mark the result! "Now, when they heard this, they were pricked in their hearts, and said unto Peter and to the rest of the apostles, Men and brethren, what shall we do?" No marvel, surely, that they were pierced to the very heart. Their eyes were open, and what did they discover? Why, that they were actually at issue with God Himself—the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And about what were they at issue? About the law? Kay. About the prophets? Nay. About the rites and ceremonies, the statutes and institutions of the Mosaic economy? Nay. All this was true, and bad enough. But there was something far beyond all this. Their guilt had reached its culminating point in the rejection and crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. "The God of Abrahams and of Isaac, and of Jacob, the God of our fathers, hath glorified his Son Jesus, whom ye delivered up, and denied him in the presence of Pilate, when he was determined to let him go. But ye denied the Holy One and the Just, and desired a murderer to be granted unto you; and killed the prince of life, whom God hath raised from the dead j whereof we are witnesses."
This truly was and is the climax of man's guilt, and when brought home, in the mighty energy of the Holy Ghost, to any heart in all this world, it must produce true repentance, and evoke from the depths of the soul the earnest inquiry, " Men and brethren, what shall I do? " " Sirs, what must I do to be saved? " It is not merely that we have failed in keeping the law, in doing our duty to God, and our duty to our neighbor, in living as we ought; all this alas! is but too true. But oh! we have been guilty of the dreadful sin of crucifying the Son of God. Such is the measure of human guilt, and such was the truth pressed home by Peter on the consciences of the men of his time.
And what then? When the sharp edge of this powerful testimony had penetrated the hearts of the hearers—when the arrow from the quiver of the Almighty had pierced the soul, and drawn forth the bitter penitential cry, '·' What shall we do? " What was the answer? What had the preacher to say? " Repent and be baptized, every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost." So also in the third chapter, he says, " And now, brethren, I wot that through ignorance ye did it, as did also your rulers. But those things which God before had showed by the mouth of all his prophets, that Christ should suffer, he hath so fulfilled. Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted cut, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord."
Here, then, we have the two things, very distinctly, presented, namely, Christ as a test and Christ as a victim—the cross as the exhibition of man's guilt, and the cross as the exhibition of the love of God. " Ye killed the Prince of life." Here was the arrow for the conscience. "But those things which God before had showed that Christ should suffer, he hath so fulfilled." Here was the healing balm. It was the determinate counsel of God that Christ should suffer, and, while it was perfectly true that man had displayed his hatred of God in nailing Jesus to the cross, yet no sooner is any soul made sensible of this, and thus brought to divine conviction, than the Holy Ghost holds up to view that very cross as the foundation of the counsels of redeeming love, and the ground of the full remission of sins to every true believer.
Thus it was, in that most touching scene between Joseph and his brethren, as recorded in Gen. 44 and xiv. The guilty brethren are made to pass through deep and painful exercises of heart, until, at length, they stand in the presence of their injured brother, with the arrow of conviction piercing their inmost soul. Then, but not until then, these soothing accents fall upon their ears, "Now, therefore, be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve life........So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God,"
Exquisite, matchless grace! The moment they entered the place of confession, Joseph was in the place of forgiveness. This was divine. " He spake roughly to them," when they were thoughtless as to their sin; but no sooner did they give utterance to these words, " We are verily guilty concerning our brother," than they were met by the sweet response of grace, " It was not you, but God."
Thus it is, beloved reader, in every case. The very instant the sinner takes the place of contrition, God takes the place of full and free forgiveness; and, most assuredly, when God forgives, the sinner is forgiven. " I said, / will confess my transgressions unto the Lord, and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin." Psalm 32
And would we have it otherwise? Surely not. An hard heart, an unbroken spirit, an unreached conscience, could not understand, or make a right use of such words as, "Be not grieved; it was not you, but God." How could it? How could an impenitent heart appreciate accents which are only designed to soothe and tranquillize a broken and contrite spirit? Impossible. To tell a hard hearted impenitent sinner not to be grieved, would be fatally false treatment. Joseph could not possibly have said to his brethren, " Be not grieved with yourselves" until they had said and felt " We are verily guilty."
Such is the order, and it is well to remember it. " I will confess, and thou forgavest." The moment the sinner takes his true place in the presence of God, there is not one syllable said to him about his sins except it be to tell him that they are all forgiven and all forgotten. " Their sins and iniquities will I remember no more." God not only forgives but forgets. The convicted sinner stands and gazes upon the cross, and sees himself in the light of the glory of Christ, as the divine and perfect test, and cries out, " What shall I do? 'é How is he answered? By the unfolding of Christ, as a victim, slain by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself.
And who can define the feelings of a soul that has been convicted of desiring a murderer and crucifying the Son of God, when he learns that that very crucified One is the channel of pardon and life to him—that the blood which was shed puts away forever the guilt of shedding it? What language can adequately set forth the emotion of one who has seen his guilt, not merely in the light of the ten commandments, but as shown out in the cross of a world-rejected Jesus; and yet knows and believes that his guilt is all and forever put away? Who could attempt to embody in language the feelings of Joseph's brethren when they felt his tears of affection dropping upon them? What a scene! Tears of contrition and tears of affection mingled! Precious mixture! The mind of God alone can duly estimate its value and sweetness.
But here let us just guard against misunderstanding. Let no one suppose, for a moment, that tears of contrition are the procuring cause of pardon, or the meritorious ground of peace. Far—far away be the thought from the reader's mind! All the tears of contrition that ever gushed forth from the fountains of broken hearts, from the days of Joseph's brethren to the days of the third of Acts, and from these latter to the present moment, could not form the just foundation of a sinner's acceptance and peace with God, or wash away a single stain from the human conscience. The blood of the divine Victim, and that alone, in prospect from the fall of man to Calvary, and in retrospect, from Calvary till this moment—naught save that precious blood—that atoning death—that peerless sacrifice could justify a holy God in forgiving one sin. But, blessed be God, so perfectly has that sacrifice vindicated and glorified His Name, that the very moment any sinner sees his true state—his guilt—his rebellion—his enmity—his base ingratitude—iris hatred of God and of His Christ; the very moment he takes the place of true contrition in the divine presence—the place of one utterly broken down, without plea or palliation—that moment, infinite grace meets him with those healing, soothing, tranquillizing words, "Be not grieved"—" your sins and iniquities will I remember no more יי—" Go in peace."
Some might suppose that we attach undue importance to the measure of contrition, or that we mean to teach that every one must feel the same character or degree of conviction as was produced by Peter's powerful appeal in the second of Acts. Nothing is further from our thoughts. We believe there must and there will be conviction and contrition; and further we believe that the cross is the only adequate measure of human guilt—that it is only in the light of that cross that any one can have a just sense of the vileness, sinfulness, and loathsomeness of his nature. But all may not see this. Many there are who never think of the cross as a test and proof of their guilt, but merely at the blessed ground of their pardon. They are bowed down under a sense of their manifold sins and shortcomings, and they look to the cross of Christ as the alone ground of pardon; and, most surely they are right. But there is something deeper than this. There is a deeper view of sin—a deeper sense of what human nature, in its fallen state, really is—a deeper conviction of the utterly godless and christless condition of the heart. And where is this to be reached? At the cross, and there alone. It will never do to look back at the men of the first century, and say what terrible sinners they were to crucify the living embodiment of all that was holy and good, gracious and pure. No; what is needed is to bring the cross forward into this our own nineteenth century and measure nature, the world, and self thereby.
This, be assured of it, reader, is the true way to judge the question. There is no real change. "Crucify him! Crucify him!" is as positively the cry of the world of the nineteenth century as it was of the world of the first. The cross was, then, and is, now, the only true measure of human guilt; and when any one, man, woman, or child is brought to see this, he has a far deeper sense of his condition than ever he can have by looking at his sins and short-comings in the light of conscience, or of the ten commandments.
And to what, let us inquire, will all this lead the soul? What will be the effect of seeing self in the light which the cross, as a test, throws upon it? The deepest self-abhorrence. Yes, and this holds good in the case of the most refined moralist, and amiable pietist that ever lived, just as much as in the case of the grossest and vilest sinner. It is no longer a question of grades and shades of character, to be settled by the graduated scale of human conscience or the moral sense. 011! no; the cross is seen as the only perfect standard. Nature, the world, the heart, self, is measured by that standard, and its true condition reached and judged.
We are intensely anxious that the reader should thoroughly enter into this point. If we mistake not, he will find it to be of immense moral power in forming his convictions, both as to his own heart, and as to the real character of the world through which he is passing—its moral foundations—its framework—its features—its principles—its spirit—its aim—its end. We want him to take the cross as the perfect measure of himself and all around him. Let him not listen to the suggestions of Satan, to the thoughts that spring up in his own heart, to the vaporings of philosophy and science, falsely so-called, to the infidel vauntings of this pre-eminently infidel age. Let him listen to the voice of holy scripture, which is the voice of the living God. Let him use the test which scripture furnishes, and that is a crucified Christ, and let him try all by that, and see where that will lead him. One thing is certain, it will lead him down, in his own self-consciousness, into those profound depths where naught can avail him save Christ as the divine Victim who bore the judgment of God against sin, and opened heaven to the sinner.
(To be continued if the Lord will.)