often shone out through the humanity, controlling the elements,
quickening the tenants of the tomb, and compelling the very devils to
obey him. Had he been less than “God manifest in the flesh,” he must
have been incompetent to the work of redemption. The Divine nature was
necessary to sustain the human nature under its immense burden of
sufferings, and render those sufferings sufficiently meritorious to atone
for the transgressions of mankind. Christ endured more of the Divine
displeasure “from the sixth to the ninth hour,” than all the vessels of
wrath could endure to all eternity; {185} and but for the union of the
two natures in his person, he could not have borne his unparalleled woes.
But while the man suffered, the God sustained. While the God-man offered
up his humanity, his Divinity was the altar that sanctified the gift, and
rendered it a sacrifice of sweet smelling savor to the Father. It was
man that died upon the cross, but it was man in mysterious union with
God, so that the two natures constituted but one person, and the dignity
of the Godhead gave infinite value to the tears and sweat and blood of
the manhood. No wonder that the cross of Christ is the admiration of men
and angels; and—“worthy is the Lamb that was slain!” the ultimate theme
of earth and heaven!
“And being made perfect.” In the twentieth chapter of Exodus, we read of
“the ram of consecration”—the ram of perfection in the original, or full
ram, as the word full signifies complete, mature, perfect. The two rams
mentioned in that chapter represent the atonement and intercession of
Christ. He is our full, complete, or perfect sacrifice. “In him
dwelleth the fulness of the Godhead;” and he has the hand of a man to
bestow blessings upon his brethren. “Of his fulness have all we
received, and grace upon grace.” Our wisdom, righteousness,
sanctification, and redemption are all in the Son of man. Aaron never
entered the holy place with empty hands, and our great High-priest hath
gone into the celestial sanctuary, bearing with him his own most precious
blood, wherewith to sprinkle the mercy-seat, and make it approachable to
man. Thus suffering on earth, and pleading the merit of his suffering in
heaven, “he becomes the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey
him.”
III. This leads us to our third topic. The character of those who are
interested in him as a Saviour—“all them that obey him.”
To obey is to submit to authority—to do what is commanded. What is the
command of God the Father? That ye should believe on the name of his
Son. What is the command of Christ, the Captain of our salvation? “Ye
believe in God; believe also in me.” It is said that he is precious to
them that believe, but unbelievers are disobedient. They are all a
disaffected and rebellious army, who will not obey their Captain. They
have made God a liar, and are condemned for their unbelief. The Father
saith—“Kiss the Son, lest he be angry!” but they reply—“Away with him!
away with him! we will not have him to reign over us!”
Is this your character? You are commanded to “behold the Lamb of God,
that taketh away the sin of the world.” Have you obeyed? What are you
doing? Are you determined to rebel? Will you risk the consequences of
disobedience? O, you are reading the book of election, are you? You are
looking for your names in the book of election; but lo! you find them
written in the book of damnation, under the article—“He that believeth
not shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him!” What shall
be done in such a case? Obey the Captain of your salvation. Do ye not
hear him, as he rides along the ranks, proclaiming—“To-day, if ye will
hear my voice, harden not your hearts, as in the provocation! Incline
your ear, and come unto me; hear, and your soul shall live!” Obey, obey
this gracious exhortation. Come, with your petitions for pardon.
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved. Behold a door
of hope opening for you in the blood of atonement. There is forgiveness
and sanctification for all that believe. Does your sense of guilt
overwhelm you with gloomy fears, and plunge you in despair? Do you
tremble at the thought of the multitude and enormity of your crimes? Cry
aloud, with all your hearts—“God be merciful to me a sinner!” Remember
that your Prince “is able to save unto the uttermost all that come unto
God by him.” Hear him calling you—“Come unto me, all ye that labor and
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest! Take my yoke upon you, and
learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest to
your souls; for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light!” Who, then,
would not obey thee, blessed Jesus?
“Had I, dear Lord, a thousand hearts,
I’d give them all to thee;
A thousand tongues, they all should join
The grateful harmony!”
We have a remarkable instance of faith and obedience in Abraham. There
was no natural probability, there was no apparent possibility of the
fulfilment of the promise; but Abraham believed, rested on the naked word
of God, and went to mount Moriah to offer up his only son. Here was the
triumph of faith, and it is recorded for our encouragement. Did the
patriarch firmly believe the promise—“In Isaac shall thy seed be called?”
Yes verily, and it was accounted to him for righteousness. Did the
patriarch believe, on the strength of that promise, that God would not
permit him to offer up his only son? No, verily; but he was determined
to obey God, and leave the event with him, well assured that God would
fulfil his word, though it should require the miracle of Isaac’s
resurrection. Thus your faith must soar above nature, and lay hold on
the righteousness of Christ, which justifieth the ungodly. When you
believe with all your heart, God will smile upon you, and calm your
troubled soul, and hush the raging storms of a guilty conscience, for the
sake of the satisfaction which he received in the obedience of Christ, as
the substitute and surety of his people. This is the Urim and
Thummim—light and perfection—of the gospel, beaming upon us through the
twelve stars—the apostles of the Lamb, pacifying the conscience, and
answering the important question—“What shall I do to be saved?” I feel
within me a sea of corruption, but I know that the blood of Jesus Christ
cleanseth from all sin.
Faith and obedience are inseparable, and the former is dead without the
latter. They wrought together in Abel, and therefore he offered a more
excellent sacrifice than Cain. They wrought together in Noah, and led
him to prepare an ark to the saving of his house. Abraham not only
believed that God would give him and his seed the land of Canaan; but he
set forth at the Divine command, not knowing whither he went. Moses not
only believed that God would deliver Israel out of Egypt; but, in
obedience to his command, he “refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s
daughter; choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God,
than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.” Thus, true faith
always leads to obedience. It is a living principle, by which the soul
is quickened from the death of sin to a new life of holiness. It is the
means through which, by the Holy Ghost, we are created anew in Christ
Jesus unto good works. It works by love, and love is always the great
motive to obedience. It gives us large and clear views of the love of
God in Christ; then “we love him because he first loved us;” and “this is
the love of God, that we keep his commandments.” Thus, by faith, “the
love of God is shed abroad in our hearts,” leading us to a holy life.
Such is the connection between faith and obedience, and the necessity of
one to the other.
And now, brethren, let us trust in the Captain of our salvation. In the
ages before his advent, many sons were brought to glory through faith in
his future sufferings. In the fulness of time, he visited our world;
assumed our nature; atoned for our transgressions; and, ascending to the
right hand of the Father, as our representative and intercessor, “became
the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey him.”
“O Captain of salvation! make
Thy power and glory known,
Till clouds of willing captives come,
And worship at thy throne!”
SERMON XII.
FINISHED REDEMPTION
“_It is finished_.”—John xix. 30.
THIS exclamation derives all its importance from the magnitude of the
work alluded to, and the glorious character of the agent. The work is
the redemption of the world; the agent is God manifest in the flesh. He
who finished the creation of the heavens and the earth in six days, is
laying the foundation of a new creation on Calvary. Four thousand years
he has been giving notice of his intention to mankind; more than thirty
years he has been personally upon earth, preparing the material; and now
he lays the chief corner stone in Zion, exclaiming—“It is finished.”
We will first consider the special import of the exclamation, and then
offer a few remarks of a more general character.
I. “It is finished.” This saying of the Son of God is a very striking
one; and, uttered, as it was, while he hung in dying agonies upon the
cross, cannot fail to make a strong impression upon the mind. It is
natural for us to inquire—“What does it mean? To what does the glorious
victim refer?” A complete answer to the question would develope the
whole scheme of redemption. We can only glance at a few leading ideas.
The sufferings of Christ are ended. Never again shall he be persecuted
from city to city, as an impostor and servant of Satan. Never again
shall he say—“My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.” Never
again shall he agonize in Gethsemane, and sweat great drops of blood.
Never again shall he be derided by the rabble, and insulted by men in
power. Never again shall he be crowned with thorns, lacerated by the
scourge, and nailed to the accursed tree. Never again shall he cry out,
in the anguish of his soul, and the baptism of blood—“My God! my God! why
hast thou forsaken me!”
The predictions of his death are fulfilled. The prophets had spoken of
his crucifixion many hundred years before his birth. They foresaw the
Governor who was to come forth from Bethlehem. They knew the babe in the
manger, as he whose goings forth are of old, even from everlasting. They
drew an accurate chart of his travels, from the manger to the cross, and
from the cross to the throne. All these things must be fulfilled. Jesus
knew the necessity, and seemed anxious that every jot and tittle should
receive an exact accomplishment. His whole life was a fulfilment of
prophecy. On every path he walked, on every house he entered, on every
city he visited, and especially on the mysterious phenomena which
accompanied his crucifixion, it was written—“that the Scriptures might be
fulfilled.”
The great sacrifice for sin is accomplished. For this purpose Christ
came into the world. He is our appointed high-priest, the elect of the
Father, and the desire of nations. He alone who was in the bosom of the
Father, could offer a sacrifice of sufficient merit to atone for human
transgression. But it was necessary also that he should have somewhat to
offer. Therefore a body was prepared for him. He assumed the seed of
Abraham, and suffered in the flesh. This was a sacrifice of infinite
value, being sanctified by the altar of Divinity on which it was offered.
All the ceremonial sacrifices could not obtain the bond from the hand of
the creditor. They were only acknowledgments of the debt. But Jesus, by
one offering, paid the whole, took up the bond—the handwriting that was
against us, and nailed it to his cross; and when driving the last nail,
he cried—“It is finished!”
The satisfaction of Divine justice is completed. The violated law must
be vindicated; the deserved penalty must be endured; if not by the sinner
himself, yet by the sinner’s substitute. This was the great undertaking
of the Son of God. He “bore our sins”—that is, the punishment of our
sins—“in his own body on the tree.” He was “made a curse for us, that we
might be made the righteousness of God in him.” There was no other way
by which the honor of God and the dignity of his law could be sustained,
and therefore “the Lord laid upon him the iniquities of us all.” He
“died unto sin once;” not merely for sin, enduring its punishment in our
stead; but also “unto sin,” abolishing its power, and putting it away.
Therefore it is said, he “made an end of sin”—destroyed its condemning
and tormenting power on behalf of all them that believe. His sufferings
were equal to the claims of justice; and his dying cry was the voice of
Justice himself proclaiming the satisfaction. Here, then, may the dying
thief, and the persecutor of the holy, lay down their load of guilt and
wo at the foot of the cross.
The new and living way to God is consecrated. A vail has hitherto
concealed the holy of holies. None but the high-priest has seen the ark
of the covenant, and the glory of God resting upon the mercy-seat between
the cherubim. He alone might enter, and he but once a year, and then
with fear and trembling, and the sprinkling of atoning blood, after the
most careful purification, and sacrifice for himself and the people. But
our great High-priest has made an end of sacrifice by the one offering of
himself. He has filled his hands with his own blood, and entered into
heaven itself, there to appear in the presence of God for us. The sweet
incense which he offers fills the temple, and the merit of his sacrifice
remains the same through all time, superseding all other offering for
ever. Therefore we are exhorted to come boldly to the throne of grace.
The tunnel under the Thames could not be completed on account of an
accident which greatly damaged the work, without a new subscription for
raising money; but Jesus found infinite riches in himself, sufficient for
the completion of a new way to the Father—a living way through the valley
of the shadow of death to “the city of the Great King.”
The conquest of the powers of darkness is achieved. When their hour was
come, the Prince and his hosts were on the alert to accomplish the
destruction of the Son of God. They assailed him with peculiar
temptations, and leveled against him their heaviest artillery. They
instigated one disciple to betray him and another to deny him. They
fired the rage of the multitude against him, so that the same tongues
that lately sung—“Hosanna to the Son of David!” now shouted—“Crucify him!
Crucify him!” They filled the priests and scribes with envy, that they
might accuse him without a cause; and inspired Pilate with an accursed
ambition, that he might condemn him without a fault. They seared the
conscience of the false witnesses, that they might charge the Just One
with the most flagrant crimes; and cauterized the hearts of the Roman
soldiers, that they might mock him in his sufferings, and nail him to the
cross. Having succeeded so far in their hellish plot, they doubtless
deemed their victory certain. I see them crowding around the cross,
waiting impatiently to witness his last breath, ready to shout with
infernal triumph to the depths of hell, till the brazen walls should send
back their echoes to the gates of the heavenly city. But hark! the dying
Saviour exclaims—“It is finished!” and the great dragon and his host
retreat, howling, from the cross. The Prince of our salvation turned
back all their artillery upon themselves, and their own stratagems become
their ruin. The old serpent seized Messiah’s heel, but Messiah stamped
upon the serpent’s head. The dying cry of Jesus shook the dominions of
death, so that the bodies of many that slept arose; and rang through all
the depths of hell, the knell of its departed power. Thus the Prince of
this world was foiled in his schemes, and disappointed in his hopes; like
the men of Gaza, when they locked up Samson at night, thinking to kill
him in the morning; but awoke to find that he was gone, with the gates of
the city upon his shoulders. When the Philistines caught Samson, and
brought him to their temple, to make sport for them, they never dreamed
of the disaster in which it would result—never dreamed that their triumph
over the poor blind captive would be the occasion of their destruction.
Suffer me, said he, to lean on the two pillars. Then he bowed himself,
and died with his enemies. So Christ on Calvary, while the powers of
darkness exulted over their victim, seized the main pillars of sin and
death, and brought down the temple of Satan upon its occupants; but on
the morning of the third day, he left them all in the ruins, where they
shall remain for ever, and commenced his journey home to his Father’s
house.
II. So much concerning the import of our Saviour’s exclamation. Such
was the work which he finished upon the cross. We add a few remarks of a
more general character.
The sufferings of Christ were vicarious. He died, not for his own sins,
but for ours. He humbled himself, that we might be exalted. He became
poor, that we might be made rich. He was wounded, that we might be
healed. He drained the cup of wrath, that we might drink the waters of
salvation. He died the shameful and excruciating death of the cross,
that we might live and reign with him for ever.
“Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to have entered into
his glory?” This “ought” is the ought of mercy and of covenant
engagement. He must discharge the obligation which he had voluntarily
assumed. He must finish the work which he had graciously begun. There
was no other Saviour—no other being in the universe willing to undertake
the work; or, if any willing to undertake, none able to accomplish it.
The salvation of one human soul would have been too mighty an achievement
for Gabriel—for all the angels in heaven. Had not “the Only Begotten of
the Father” become our surety, we must have lain for ever under the wrath
of God, amid “weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth.” None but the
Lion of the tribe of Judah could break the seals of that mysterious book.
None but “God manifest in the flesh” could deliver us from the second
death.
The dying cry of Jesus indicates the dignity of his nature, and the power
of life that was in him to the last. All men die of weakness—of
inability to resist death—die because they can live no longer. But this
was not the case with the Son of God. He speaks of laying down his life
as his own voluntary act;—“No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of
myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.”
He “poured out his soul unto death”—did not wait for it to be torn from
him—did not hang languishing upon the cross, till life “ebbed out by slow
degrees;” but poured it out freely, suddenly, and unexpectedly. As soon
as the work was done for which he came into the world, he cried—“It is
finished!” “bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.” Then the sun was
darkened, the earth quaked, the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the
centurion said—“Truly, this man was the Son of God!” He cried with a
loud voice, to show that he was still unconquered by pain, mighty even
upon the cross. He bowed his head that death might seize him. He was
naturally far above the reach of death, his Divine nature being
self-existent and eternal, and his human nature entitled to immortality
by its immaculate holiness; yet “he humbled himself, and became obedient
unto death, even the death of the cross”—“He bowed his head, and gave up
the ghost.”
We may regard his last exclamation, also, as an expression of his joy, at
having accomplished the great “travail of his soul,” in the work of our
redemption. It was the work which the Father had given him, and which he
had covenanted to do. It lay heavy upon his heart; and O, how was he
straitened till it was accomplished! His “soul was exceeding sorrowful,
even unto death;” “and his sweat as it were great drops of blood, falling
down to the ground.” But upon the cross, he saw of the travail of his
soul, and was satisfied. He saw that his sacrifice was accepted, and the
object of his agony secured—that death would not be able to detain him in
the grave, nor hell to defeat the purposes of his grace—that the gates of
the eternal city would soon open to receive him as a conqueror, and
myriads of exultant angels shout him to his throne; whither he would be
followed by his redeemed, with songs of everlasting joy. He saw, and he
was satisfied; and, not waiting for the morning of the third day, but
already confident of victory, he uttered this note of triumph, and died.
And if we may suppose them to have understood its import, what a source
of consolation must it have been to his sorrowing disciples! The sword
had pierced through Mary’s heart, according to the prediction of old
Simeon over the infant Jesus. Her affections had bled at the agony of
her supernatural Son, and her wounded faith had wellnigh perished at his
cross. And how must all his followers have felt, standing afar off, and
beholding their supposed Redeemer suffering as a malefactor! How must
all their hopes have died within them, as they gazed on the accursed
tree! The tragedy was mysterious, and they deemed their enemies
victorious. Jesus is treading the winepress in Bozrah, and the earth is
shaking, and the rocks are rending, and the luminaries of heaven are
expiring, and all the powers of nature are fainting, in sympathy with his
mighty agony. Now he is lost in the fire and smoke of battle, and the
dread artillery of justice is heard thundering through the thick
darkness, and shouts of victory rise from the troops of hell, and who
shall foretell the issue of the combat, or the fate of the Champion? But
lo! he cometh forth from the cloud of battle, with blood upon his
garments! He is wounded, but he hath the tread and the aspect of a
conqueror. He waves his crimsoned sword, and cries—“It is finished!”
Courage, ye weepers at the cross! Courage, ye tremblers standing afar
off! The Prince of your salvation is victor, and this bulletin of the
war shall cheer myriads of believers in the house of their pilgrimage,
and the achievement which it announces shall constitute an everlasting
theme of praise!
“It is finished!” The word smote on the walls of the celestial city, and
thrilled the hosts of heaven with ecstasy unspeakable. How must “the
spirits of just men made perfect” have leaped with joy, to hear that the
Captain of their salvation was victorious over all his enemies, and that
the work he had engaged to do for them and their brethren was completed!
and with what wonder and delight must the holy angels have witnessed the
triumph of him, whom they were commanded to worship, over the powers of
darkness! It was the commencement of a new era in heaven, and never
before had its happy denizens seen so much of God.
“It is finished!” Go, ye heralds of salvation, into all the world, and
proclaim the joyful tidings! Cry aloud, and spare not; lift up your
voice like a trumpet, and publish to all men, that the work of the cross
is finished—that the great Mediator, “made perfect through sufferings,”
has become “the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey
him”—“is of God made unto us, wisdom, and righteousness, and
sanctification, and redemption!” Go, teach the degraded Pagan, the
deluded Mohammedan, and the superstitious Papist, that the finished work
of Jesus is the only way of acceptance with God! Go, tell the polished
scholar, the profound philosopher, and the vaunting moralist, that the
doctrine of Christ crucified is the only knowledge that can save the
soul! Go, say to the proud skeptic, the bold blasphemer, and the
polluted libertine, “Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of
the world!” Preach it to the gasping sinner upon his death-bed, and the
sullen murderer in his cell! Let it ring in every human ear, and thrill
in every human heart, till the gladness of earth shall be the counterpart
of heaven!
SERMON XIII.
THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS.
“_He is not here_; _for he is risen_, _as he said_. _Come_, _see the
place where the Lord lay_.”—Matt. xxviii. 6.