(MARK I. 4.)
"The last and greatest herald of heaven's King,
Girt with rough skins, hies to the desert wild;
Among that savage brood the woods doth bring,
Which he more harmless found than man, and mild.
"His food was locusts and what there doth spring,
With honey that from virgin hives distill'd,
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing
Made him appear, long since from earth exiled."
W. DRUMMOND, of Hawthornden.
Repentance: its Nature--Repentance: how Produced--Repentance: its
Evidences--Repentance: its Results--John's Baptism: from Heaven
At the time of which we are speaking, an extraordinary sect, known as
the Essenes, was scattered throughout Palestine, but had its special
home in the oasis of Engedi; and with the adherents of this community
John must have been in frequent association. They were the recluses or
hermits of their age.
The aim of the Essenes was moral and ceremonial purity. They sought
after an ideal of holiness, which they thought could not be realized in
this world; and therefore, leaving villages and towns, they betook
themselves to the dens and caves of the earth, and gave themselves to
continence, abstinence, fastings, and prayers, supporting themselves by
some slight labours on the land. Those who have investigated their
interesting history tell us that the cardinal point with them was faith
in the inspired Word of God. By meditation, prayer, and mortification,
frequent ablutions, and strict attention to the laws of ceremonial
purity, they hoped to reach the highest stage of communion with God.
They agreed with the Pharisees in their extraordinary regard for the
Sabbath. Their daily meal was of the simplest kind, and partaken of in
their house of religious assembly. After bathing, with prayer and
exhortation they went, with veiled faces, to their dining-room, as to a
holy temple. They abstained from oaths, despised riches, manifested
the greatest abhorrence of war and slavery, faced torture and death
with the utmost bravery, refused the indulgence of pleasure.
It is clear that John was not a member of this holy community, which
differed widely from the Pharisaism and Sadduceeism of the time. The
Essenes wore white robes, emblematic of the purity they sought; whilst
he was content with his coat of camel's hair and leathern girdle. They
seasoned their bread with hyssop, and he with honey. They dwelt in
brotherhoods and societies; while he stood alone from the earliest days
of his career. But it cannot be doubted that he was in deep accord
with much of the doctrine and practice of this sect.
John the Baptist, however, cannot be accounted for by any of the
pre-existing conditions of his time. He stood alone in his God-given
might. That he was conscious of this appears from his own declaration
when he said, "He that sent me to baptize in water, He said unto me."
And that Christ wished to convey the same impression is clear from his
question to the Pharisees: "The baptism of John, was it from heaven or
from men?" Moreover, the distinct assertion of the Spirit of God,
through the fourth Evangelist, informs us: "There came a man, sent from
God, whose name was John, the same came for witness, that all might
believe through him." "The Word of God came unto John, the son of
Zacharias, in the wilderness. And he came."
I. THE SUMMONS TO REPENT.--John has a ministry with all men. In other
words, he represents a phase of teaching and influence through which we
must needs pass if we are properly to discover and appreciate the grace
of Christ. With us, too, a preparatory work has to be done. There are
mountains and hills of pride and self-will that have to be levelled;
crooked and devious ways that have to be straightened; ruggednesses
that have to be smoothed--before we can fully behold the glory of God
in the face of Jesus Christ. In proportion to the thoroughness and
permanence of our repentance will be our glad realization of the
fulness and glory of the Lamb of God.
But we must guard ourselves here, lest it be supposed that repentance
is a species of good work which must be performed in order that we may
merit the grace of Christ. It must be made equally clear, that
repentance must not be viewed apart from faith in the Saviour, which is
an integral part of it. It is also certain that, though "God
commandeth all men everywhere to repent," yet Jesus is exalted "to give
repentance and the remission of sins."
Repentance, according to the literal rendering of the Greek word, is "a
change of mind." Perhaps we should rather say, it is a change in the
attitude of the will. The unrepentant soul chooses its own way and
will, regardless of the law of God. "The mind of the flesh is enmity
against God, for it is not subject to the law of God, neither, indeed,
can it be; and they that are in the flesh cannot please God." But in
repentance the soul changes its attitude. It no longer refuses the
yoke of God's will, like a restive heifer, but yields to it, or is
willing to yield. There is a compunction, a sense of the hollowness of
all created things, a relenting, a wistful yearning after the true
life, and ultimately a turning from darkness to light, and from the
power of Satan unto God. The habits may rebel; the inclinations and
emotions may shrink back; the consciousness of peace and joy may yet be
far away--but the will has made its secret decision, and has begun to
turn to God: as, in the revolution of the earth, the place where we
live reaches its furthest point from the sunlight, passes it, and
begins slowly to return towards its warm smiles and embrace.
It cannot be too strongly emphasized that repentance is an act of the
_will_. In its beginning there may be no sense of gladness or
reconciliation with God: but just the consciousness that certain ways
of life are wrong, mistaken, hurtful, and grieving to God; and the
desire, which becomes the determination, to turn from them, to seek Him
who formed the mountains and created the wind, that maketh the morning
darkness and treadeth upon the high places of the earth.
Repentance may be accounted as the other side of faith. They are the
two sides of the same coin: the two aspects of the same act. If the
act of the soul which brings it into right relation with God is
described as a turning round, to go in the reverse direction to that in
which it had been travelling, then _repentance_ stands for its desire
and choice to turn from sin, and _faith_ for its desire and choice to
turn to God. We must be willing to turn from sin and our own
righteousness--that is _repentance_; we must be willing to be saved by
God, in his own way, and must come to Him for that purpose--that is
_faith_.
We need to turn from our own righteousnesses as well as from our sins.
Augustine spoke of his efforts after righteousness as splendid sins;
and Paul distinctly disavows all those attempts to stand right with God
which he made before he saw the face of the risen Christ looking out
from heaven upon his conscience-stricken spirit. You must turn away
from your own efforts to save yourself. These are, in the words of the
prophet, but "filthy rags." Nothing, apart from the Saviour and his
work, can avail the soul, which must meet the scrutiny of eternal
justice and purity.
Repentance is produced sometimes and specially by the presentation of
the claims of Christ. We suddenly awake to realize what He is, how He
loves, how much we are missing, the gross ingratitude with which we
respond to his agony and bloody sweat, his cross and suffering, the
beauty of his character, the strength of his claims.
At other times repentance is wrought by the preaching of John the
Baptist. Then we hear of the axe laid at the root of the trees, and
the unquenchable fire for the consuming of the chaff: and the heart
trembles. Then we are led to the brink of the precipice, and compelled
to see the point at which the primrose-path we are travelling ends in
the fatal abyss. Then our faith in our hereditary position and
privilege is shattered by the iconoclasm of the preacher; and we are
levelled to the position of stones which are lapped by the Jordan, but
are insensible to its touch. It is at such a time as this that the
soul sees the entire fabric of its vain confidences and hopes crumbling
like a cloud-palace, and turns from it all--as Mary from the sepulchre,
where her hopes lay entombed, to find Jesus standing with the
resurrection glory on his face and radiant love in his eyes.
For purposes of clear thinking it is well to discriminate in our use of
the words Repentance and Penitence, using the former of the first act
of the will, when, energized and quickened by the Spirit of God, it
turns from dead works to serve the living and true God; and the latter,
of the emotions which are powerfully wrought upon, as the years pass,
by the Spirit's presentation of all the pain and grief which our sin
has caused, and is causing, to our blessed Lord. We repent once, but
are penitents always. We repent in the will; we are penitent in the
heart. We repent, and believe the Gospel; we believe the Gospel of the
Son of Man, and as we look on Him, whom our sins have pierced, we
mourn. We repent when we obey his call to come unto Him and live; we
are penitent as we stand behind Him weeping, and begin to wash his feet
with our tears, and to wipe them with the hair of our head.
If John the Baptist has never wrought his work in you, be sure to open
your heart to his piercing voice. Let him fulfil his ministry. See
that you do not reject the counsel of God, as it proceeds from his
lips; but expose your soul to its searching scrutiny, and allow it to
have free and uninterrupted course. He comes to prepare the way of the
Lord, and to make through the desert of our nature a highway for our
God. Of course, if, from the earliest you have been under the nurture
of pious parents, and your young heart turned to God in the early dawn
of consciousness, you will not pass through these experiences as those
must who have spent years in the service of Satan. For these there is
but one word--Repent! They must, in a moment of time, take up an
entirely different attitude to God and holiness, to Christ and his
salvation.
II. THE SIGNS AND SYMPTOMS OF REPENTANCE.--(1) _Confession_. "They
were baptized of him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins." What
this precisely means it is not possible to say in detail; but it is not
improbable that beneath the strong pressure of inward remorse and
bitterness of spirit, men of notoriously bad life, as well as those who
had never abandoned themselves to the mad currents of temptation, but
were none the less conscious of heart and hidden sins, stood up,
"confessing and declaring their deeds," as in a memorable scene long
afterwards (Acts xix. 17-20).
The formalist confessed that the whited sepulchre of his religious
observances had concealed a mass of putrefaction. The sceptic
confessed that his refusal of religion was largely due to his hatred of
the demands of God's holy law. The multitudes confessed that they had
been selfish and sensual, shutting up their compassions, and refusing
clothing and food to the needy. The publican confessed that he had
extorted by false accusation and oppression more than his due. The
soldier confessed that his profession had often served as the cloak for
terrorizing the poor and vamping up worthless accusations. The
notoriously evil liver confessed that he had lain in wait for blood,
and destroyed the innocent and helpless for gain or hate. The air was
laden with the cries and sighs of the stricken multitudes, who beheld
their sin for the first time in the light of eternity and of its
inevitable doom. The lurid flames of "the wrath to come" cast their
searching light on practices which, in the comparative twilight of
ignorance and neglect, had passed without special notice.
Upon that river's brink, men not only confessed to God, but probably
also to one another. Life-long feuds were reconciled; old quarrels
were settled; frank words of apology and forgiveness were exchanged;
hands grasped hands for the first time after years of alienation and
strife.
Confession is an essential sign of a genuine repentance, and without it
forgiveness is impossible. "He that covereth his transgressions shall
not prosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall obtain
mercy." "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us
our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." So long as we
keep silence, our bones wax old through our inward anguish; we are
burnt by the fire of slow fever; we toss restlessly, though on a couch
of down. But on confession there is immediate relief. "I said, I will
confess my transgressions unto the Lord, and Thou forgavest me the
iniquity of my sin."
Confess your sin to God, O troubled soul, from whom the vision of
Christ is veiled. It is more than likely that some undetected or
unconfessed sin is shutting out the rays of the true sun. Excuse
nothing, extenuate nothing, omit nothing. Do not speak of mistakes of
judgment, but of lapses of heart and will. Do not be content with a
general confession; be particular and specific. Drag each evil thing
forth before God's judgment bar; let the secrets be exposed, and the
dark, sad story told. Begin at the beginning, and go steadily through.
Only be very careful to leave no trace of your experiences for human
eyes or ears. To tell this story to another will rob it of its value
to yourself and its acceptableness to God. It is enough for God to
know it; and to tell Him all is to receive at once his assurance of
forgiveness, for the sake of Him who loved us and gave Himself a
propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but for those of the
whole world. Directly the confession leaves our heart, nay, whilst it
is in process, the Divine voice is heard assuring us that our sins,
which are many, are put away as far as the east is from the west, and
cast into the depths of the sea.
But such confession should not be made to God alone, when sins are in
question which have injured and alienated others. If our brother has
aught against us, we must find him out, while our gift is left
unpresented at the altar, and first be reconciled to him. We must
write the letter, or speak the word; we must make honourable reparation
and amends; we must not be behind the sinners under the old law, who
were bidden to add a fifth part to the loss their brother had sustained
through their wrong-doing, when they made it good. The only sin we are
justified in confessing to our brother man is that we have committed
against him. All else must be told in the ear of Jesus, that great
High Priest, whose confessional is always open, and whose pure ear can
receive our dark and sad stories without taint or soil.
(2) _Fruit worthy of Repentance_. "Bring forth, therefore, fruit
worthy of repentance," said John, with some indignation, as he saw many
of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism. He insisted that
practical and vital religion was not a rule, but a life; not outward
ritual, but a principle; not works, but fruit: and he demanded that the
genuineness of repentance should be attested by appropriate fruit. "Do
men gather grapes of thorns, and figs of thistles?"
Probably that demand of the Baptist accounted for the alteration in his
life of which Zaccheus made confession to Christ, when He became his
guest. The rich publican lived at Jericho, near which John was
baptizing, and he was probably amongst the publicans who were attracted
to his ministry. How well we can imagine the comments that would be
passed on his presence, as each nudged his neighbour and whispered.
"Is not that Zaccheus?" said one. "What is he doing here?" said
another. "It is about time _he_ came to himself," muttered a third.
"I wish the Baptist could do something for him," said a fourth.
And something touched that hardened heart. A great hope and a great
resolve sprang up in it. He may have joined in the confessions of
which we have spoken, but he did more. On his arrival at Jericho he
was a new man. He gave the half of his goods to feed the poor; and if
he had wrongfully exacted aught of any man, he restored four-fold. His
servant was often seen in the lowest and poorest parts of the old city,
hunting up cases of urgent distress, and bestowing anonymous alms, and
many a poor man was delighted to find a considerable sum of money
thrust into his hands, with a scrap of paper signed by the rich
tax-gatherer, saying, "I took so much from you, years ago, to which I
had no claim; kindly find it enclosed, with fourfold as amends."
Should any ask him the reason for it all, he would answer, "Ah, I have
been down to the Jordan and heard the Baptist; I believe the Kingdom is
coming, and the King is at hand; and I want to make ready for Him, so
that, when He comes, He may be able to abide at my house."
You will never get right with God till you are right with man. It is
not enough to confess wrong-doing; you must be prepared to make amends
so far as lies in your power. Sin is not a light thing, and it must be
dealt with, root and branch.
(3) _The baptism of repentance_. "They were baptized ... confessing
their sins." The cleansing property of water has given it a religious
significance from most remote antiquity Men have conceived of sin as a
foul stain upon the heart, and have couched their petitions for its
removal in words derived from its use: "Purge me with hyssop, and I
shall be clean. Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." They have
longed to feel that as the body was delivered from pollution, so the
soul was freed from stain. In some cases this thought has assumed a
gross and material form; and men have attributed to the water of
certain rivers, such as the Ganges, the Nile, the Abana, the mysterious
power of cleansing away sin.
There was no trace of this, however, in John's teaching. It was not
baptism _unto remission_, but _unto repentance_. It was the expression
and symbol of the soul's desire and intention, so far as it knew, to
confess and renounce its sins, as the necessary condition of obtaining
the Divine forgiveness.
It is not necessary to discuss the much-vexed question of the source
from which the Baptist derived his baptism--some say it was from the
habits of the Essenes, or the practice of the Rabbis, who subjected to
this rite all proselytes to Judaism from the Gentile world. It is
enough for us to remember that he was _sent_ to baptize; that the idea
of his baptism was "from heaven"; and that in his hands the rite
assumed altogether novel and important functions. It meant death and
burial as far as the past was concerned; and resurrection to a new and
better future. Forgetting and dying to the things that were behind,
the soul was urged to realize the meaning of this symbolic act, and to
press on and up to better things before; assured as it did so that God
had accepted its confession and choice, and was waiting to receive it
graciously and love it freely.
It is easy to see how all this appealed to the people, and specially
touched the hearts of young men. At that time, by the blue waters of
the Lake of Galilee, there was a handful of ardent youths, deeply
stirred by the currents of thought around them, who resented the Roman
sway, and were on the tip-toe of expectation for the coming Kingdom.
How they spoke together, as they floated at night in their fisherman's
yawl over the dark waters of the Lake of Galilee, about God's ancient
covenant, and the advent of the Messiah, and the corruptions of their
beloved Temple service! And when, one day, tidings reached them of
this strange new preacher, they left all and streamed with all the
world beside to the Jordan valley, and stood fascinated by the spell of
his words.
One by one, or all together, they made themselves known to him, and
became his loyal friends and disciples. We are familiar with the names
of one or two of them, who afterwards left their earlier master to
follow Christ; but of the rest we know nothing, save that he taught
them to fast and pray, and that they clung to their great teacher,
until they bore his headless body to the grave. After his death they
joined themselves with Him whom they had once regarded with some
suspicion as his rival and supplanter.
How much this meant to John! He had never had a friend; and to have
the allegiance and love of these noble, ingenuous youths must have been
very grateful to his soul. But from them all he repeatedly turned his
gaze, as though he were looking for some one who must presently emerge
from the crowd; and the sound of whose voice would give him the deepest
and richest fulfilment of his joy, because it would be the voice of the
Bridegroom Himself.