The people in that crowd were not all diseased. Some of them He
taught; some of them He cured; but that crowd where healthy men
mingled with cripples is no type of the condition of humanity.
Rather we are to find it in that Pool of Bethesda, with its five
porches, wherein lay a multitude of impotent folk, tortured with
varieties of sickness, and none of them sound. Blessed be God! we
are in _Bethesda_, which means 'house of mercy,' and the
fountain that can heal is perpetually springing up beside us all.
There is a disease, dear brethren, which affects and infects all
mankind, and it is of that that I wish to speak to you two or three
plain, earnest words now. Sin is universal.
What does the Bible mean by sin? Everything that goes against, or
neglects God's law. And if you will recognise in all the acts of
every life the reference, which really is there, to God and His
will, you will not need anything more to establish the fact that
'all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.' Whatever
other differences there are between men, there is this fundamental
similarity. Neglect--which is a breach--of the law of God pertains
to all mankind. Everything that we do ought to have reference to
Him. _Does_ everything that we do have such reference? If not,
there is a quality of evil in it. For the very definition of sin is
living to myself and neglecting Him. He is the centre, and if I
might use a violent figure, every planet that wrenches itself away
from gravitation towards, and revolution round, that centre, and
prefers to whirl on its own axis, has broken the law of the
celestial spheres, and brought discord into the heavenly harmony.
All men stand condemned in this respect.
Now, there is no need to exaggerate. I am not saying that all men
are on the same level. I know that there are great differences in
the nobleness, purity, and goodness of lives, and Christianity has
never been more unfairly represented than when good men have called,
as they have done with St. Augustine, the virtues of godless men,
'splendid vices.' But though the differences are not unimportant,
the similarity is far more important. The pure, clean-living man,
and the loving, gentle woman, though they stand high above the
sensuality of the profligate, the criminal, stand in this respect on
the same footing that they, too, have to put their hands on their
mouths, and their mouths in the dust, and cry 'Unclean!' I do not
want to exaggerate, and sure I am that if men will be honest with
themselves there is a voice that responds to the indictment when I
say sadly, in the solemn language of Scripture, 'we all have sinned
and come short of the glory of God.' For there is no difference. If
you do not believe in a God, you can laugh at the old wife's notion
of 'sin.' If you do believe in a God, you are shut up to believe
this other thing, 'Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned.'
And, brethren, if this universal fact is indeed a fact, it is the
gravest element in human nature. It matters very little, in
comparison, whether you and I are wise or foolish, educated or
illiterate, rich or poor, happy or miserable. All the superficial
distinctions which separate men from one another, and are all right
in their own places, dwindle away into nothing before this solemn
truth that in every frame there is a plague spot, and that the
leprosy has smitten us all.
But, brethren, do not let us lose ourselves in generalities. All
means each, and each means me. We all know how hard it is to bring
general truths to bear, with all their weight, upon ourselves. That
is an old commonplace: 'All men think all men mortal but
themselves'; and we are quite comfortable when this indictment is
kept in the general terms of universality--'All have sinned.'
Suppose I sharpen the point a little. God grant that the point may
get to some indurated conscience here. Suppose, instead of reading
'All have sinned,' I beseech each one of my hearers to strike out
the general word, and put in the individual one, and to say
'_I_ have sinned.' You have to do with this indictment just as
you have to do with the promises and offers of the Gospel--wherever
there is a 'whosoever' put your pen through it, and write your own
name over it. The blank cheque is given to us in regard to these
promises and offers, and we have to fill in our own names. The
charge is handed to us, in regard to this indictment, and if we are
wise we shall write our own names there, too.
Dear brethren, I leave this on your consciences, and I will venture to
ask that, if not here, at any rate when you get quietly home to-night,
and lie down on your beds, you would put to yourselves the question,
'Is it I?' And sure I am that, if you do, you will see a finger
pointing out of the darkness, and hear a voice sterner than that of
Nathan, saying 'Thou art the man.'