'Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him.' That was the
command. This detail, of course, like all the others, refers back
to, and casts light upon, the supposed condition of the spendthrift
when he came back. There he stood, ragged, with the stain of travel
and the stench of the pig-sty upon his garments, some of them, no
doubt, remains of the tawdry finery that he had worn in the world;
wine-spots, and stains, and filth of all sorts on the rags. The
father says, 'Take them all off him, and put the best robe upon
him.' What does that mean?
Well, we all know the very familiar metaphor by which qualities of
mind, traits of character, and the like are described as being the
dress of the spirit. We talk about being 'arrayed in purity,' 'clad
in zeal,' 'clothed with humility,' 'vested with power,' and so on.
If we turn to Scripture, we find running through it a whole series
of instances of this metaphor, which guide us at once to its true
meaning. Zechariah saw in vision the high priest standing at the
heavenly tribunal, clad in filthy garments. A voice said, 'Take away
the filthy garments from him,' and the interpretation is added:
'Behold! I have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee, and I will
clothe thee with a change of raiment.' You remember our Lord's
parable of the man with a wedding garment. You remember the Apostle
Paul's frequent use of the metaphor of 'putting off the old man,
putting on the new.' You remember, finally, the visions of the last
days, in which the Seer in Patmos saw the armies in heaven that
followed their victorious Commander, 'clothed in fine linen, white and
pure, which is the righteousness of the saints.' If we put all these
together, surely I am not forcing a meaning on a non-significant
detail, when I say that here we have shadowed for us the great thought,
that the result of the divine forgiveness coming upon a man is that he
is clothed with a character which fits him to sit down at his Father's
table. They tell us that forgiveness is impossible, because things
done must have their consequences, and that character is the slow
formation of actions, precipitated, as it were, from our deeds. That
is all true. But it does not conflict with this other truth that there
may and does come into men's hearts, when they set their faith on
Jesus Christ, a new power which transforms the nature and causes
old things to pass away.
God's forgiveness revolutionises a life. Similar effects follow even
human pardons for small offences. Brute natures are held in by
penalties, and to them pardon means impunity, and impunity means
licence, and licence means lust. But wherever there is a heart with
love to the offended in it, there is nothing that will so fill it
with loathing of its past self as the assurance that the offended,
though loved, One loves, and is not offended, and that free
forgiveness has come. Whether is it the rod or the mother's kiss
that makes a child hate its sin most? And if we lift our thoughts to
Him, and think how He, up there in the heavens,
'Who mightest vengeance best have took,'
bends over us in frank, free forgiveness, then surely that, more
than all punishments or threatenings or terrors, will cause us to
turn away from our evil, and to loathe the sins which are thus
forgiven. The prophet went very deep when he said, 'Thou shalt be
ashamed and confounded, and never open thy mouth any more because of
thine iniquity, when I am pacified towards thee for all that thou
hast done, saith the Lord.'
But not only so, there is given along with forgiveness, and wrapped
up in it, a new power, which makes all things new, and changes a
man. It would be a poor Gospel for me to stand up and preach if I
had only to proclaim to men the divine forgiveness; and if that only
meant that hell's door was barred and some outward heaven was flung
open. But the true Gospel offers forgiveness as preliminary to the
bestowal of the highest gifts of God. The pardoned man is stripped
of his rags and clothed with a new nature which God Himself bestows.
That is what we all need. We have not all been in the pig-sty; we
have not all fallen into gross sin. We _have_ all turned our
backs on our Father; we _have_ all wanted to be independent; we
_have_ all preferred the far-off land to being near home. And,
dear brethren, the character that you have made for yourselves
clings to you like the poisoned Nessus' shirt to Hercules. You
cannot strip it off. You may get part of it away, but you cannot
entirely cast it from your limbs, nor free yourselves from the
entanglements of its tatters. Go to God, and He will smile away your
sin, and His forgiving love will melt the stains and the evil, as
the sun this morning drank up the mists; and they who come knowing
themselves to be foul, and needing forgiveness, will surely receive
from Him 'the fine linen white and pure, the righteousness of
saints.'