I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner
that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which
need no repentance.
THERE are three parables in this chapter: all agree in one quality—in
their humanity. God shows us in them that there is something in his
character which is like the best and simplest parts of our characters.
God himself likens himself to men, that men may understand him and love
him.
Why there should be more joy over the repenting sinner than over the just
man who needs no repentance, we cannot explain in words: but our hearts
tell us that it is true, beautiful; that it is reasonable, though we can
give no reason for it. You know that if you had lost a sheep; if you had
lost a piece of money; if you had had a child run away from you, it would
be far more pleasant to find that thing which you had lost, than never to
have lost it at all. You do not know why. God tells you that it is a
part of his image and likeness in you; that you rejoice over what you
have lost and found again, because God rejoices over what he has lost and
found again.
And is not this a gospel, and good news? Is it not good news that we
need never be afraid or ashamed to give way to our tenderness and pity?
for God does not think it beneath him to be tender and pitiful. Is it
not good news that we need never be afraid or ashamed to forgive, to take
back those who have neglected us, wronged us? for God does not think it
beneath him to do likewise. That we need never show hardness, pride,
sternness to our children when they do wrong, but should win them by love
and tenderness, caring for them all the more, the less they care for
themselves? for God does even so to us, who have sinned against him far
more than our children ever can sin against us.
And is it not good news, again, that God does care for sinners, and for
all kinds and sorts of sinners? Some go wrong from mere stupidity and
ignorance, because they know no better; because they really are not
altogether accountable for their own doings. They are like the silly
sheep, who gets out over the fence of his own fancy: and yet no
reasonable man will be angry with the poor thing. It knows no better.
How many a poor young thing goes wandering away, like that silly sheep,
and having once lost its way, cannot get back again, but wanders on
further and further, till it lies down all desperate, tired out, mired in
the bogs, and torn about with thorns!
Then the good shepherd does not wait for that sheep to come back. He
goes and seeks it far and wide, up hill and down dale, till he finds it;
and having found it, he does not beat it, rate it—not even drive it home
before him. It is tired and miserable. If it has been foolish, it has
punished itself enough for its folly; and all he feels for it is pity and
love. It wants rest, and he gives it rest at his own expense. He lays
it on his shoulders, and takes it home, calling on all heaven and earth
to rejoice with him. Ah, my friends, if that is not the picture of a God
whom you can love, of a God whom you can trust, what God would you have?
Some, again, go wrong from ignorance and bad training, bad society, bad
education, bad example; and in other countries—though, thank God, not in
this—from bad laws and bad government. How many thousands and hundreds
of thousands are ruined, as it seems to us, thereby! The child born in a
London alley, reared up among London thieves, taught to swear, lie,
steal, never entering a school or church, never hearing the name of God
save in oaths—There is the lost piece of money. It is a valuable thing;
the King’s likeness is stamped on it: but it is useless, because it is
lost, lying in the dust and darkness, hidden in a corner, unable to help
itself, and of no use to any one. And so there is many a person, man and
woman, who is worth something, who has God’s likeness on them, who, if
they were brought home to God, might be of good use in the world; but
they are lost, from ignorance and bad training. They lie in a corner in
darkness, not knowing their own value in God’s eyes; not knowing that
they bear his image, though it be all crusted over with the dust and dirt
of barbarism and bad habits. Then Christ will go after them, and seek
diligently till he finds them, and cleanses them, and makes them bright,
and of good use again in his Church and his kingdom. They are worth
something, and Christ will not let them be wasted; he will send
clergymen, teachers, missionaries, schools, reformatories,
penitentiaries, hospitals—ay, and other messengers of his, of whom we
never dream, for his ways are as high above our ways as the heaven is
above the earth: with all these he sweeps his house, and his blessing is
on them all, for by them he finds the valuable coin which was lost.
But there is a third sort of sinner, spoken of in Christ’s next parable
in this chapter, from which my text is taken, of whom it is not said that
God the Father sends out to seek and to save him. That is the prodigal
son, who left his father’s house, and strayed away of his own wantonness
and free will. Christ does not go out after him. He has gone away of
his own will; and of his own will he must come back: and he has to pay a
heavy price for his folly—to taste hunger, shame, misery, all but
despair. For understand—if any of you fancy that you can sin without
being punished—that the prodigal son is punished, and most severely. He
does not get off freely, the moment he chooses to repent, as false
preachers will tell you: even after he does repent, and resolves to go
back to his father’s house, he has a long journey home, in poverty and
misery, footsore, hungry, and all but despairing. But when he does get
home; when he shows that he has learnt the bitter lesson; when all he
dares to ask is, ‘Make me as one of thy hired servants,’ he is received
as freely as the rest. And it is worth while to remark, that our Lord
spends on him tenderer words than on those who are lost by mere
foolishness or ignorance. Of him it is not said, ‘Rejoice with me, for I
have found him,’—but, Bring out the best robe, for this my son—not my
sheep, not my piece of money, but my son—was dead, and is alive again; he
was lost, and is found.
In this is a great mystery; one of which one hardly dares to talk: but
one which one must think over in one’s own heart, and say, ‘Oh the depth
of the riches and of the knowledge and wisdom of God! How wonderful are
his judgments, and his ways past finding out. For who hath known the
mind of the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor? Or who hath first
given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again?’ Who indeed?
God is not a tyrant, who must be appeased with gifts; or a taskmaster,
who must be satisfied with the labour of his slaves. He is a father who
loves his children; who gives, and loveth to give; who gives to all
freely, and upbraideth not. He truly willeth not the death of a sinner,
but rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live. His will is
a good will; and howsoever much man’s sin and folly may resist it, and
seem for a time to mar it, yet he is too great and good to owe any man,
even the worst, the smallest spite or grudge. Patiently, nobly,
magnanimously, God waits; waits for the man who is a fool, to find out
his own folly; waits for the heart which has tried to find pleasure in
everything else, to find out that everything else disappoints, and to
come back to him, the fountain of all wholesome pleasure, the well-spring
of all life fit for a man to live. When the fool finds out his folly;
when the wilful man gives up his wilfulness; when the rebel submits
himself to law; when the son comes back to his father’s house—there is no
sternness, no peevishness, no up-braiding, no pride, no revenge; but the
everlasting and boundless love of God wells forth again as rich as ever.
He has condescended to wait for his creature; because what he wanted was
not his creature’s fear, but his creature’s love; not his lip-obedience,
but his heart; because he wanted him not to come back as a trembling
slave to his master, but as a son who has found out at last what a father
he has left him, when all beside has played him false. Let him come back
thus; and then all is forgiven and forgotten; and all that will be said
will be, ‘This my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is
found.’
SERMON X.
GOD’S WORLD.
(_Preached before the Prince of Wales_, _at Sandringham_, 1866.)