Friday, April 30, 2021
Heartiness V. Heartlessness Towards Others
Heartiness V. Heartlessness Towards Others
'It is Christ ... who also maketh intercession for us.'
Romans 8:34,27
What Is Faith?
 What Is Faith? By A.W. Tozer
Faith is simply the bringing of our minds into accord with the truth. It is adjusting our expectations to the promises of God in complete assurance that the God of the whole earth cannot lie. A man looks at a mountain and affirms, "That is a mountain." There is no particular virtue in the affirmation. It is simply accepting the fact that stands before him and bringing his belief into accord with the fact. The man does not create the mountain by believing, nor could he annihilate it by denying. And so with the truth of God. The believing man accepts a promise of God as a fact as solid as a mountain and vastly more enduring. His faith changes nothing except his own personal relation to the word of promise. God's Word is true whether we believe it or not. Human unbelief cannot alter the character of God. Faith is subjective, but it is sound only when it corresponds with objective reality. The man's faith in the mountain is valid only because the mountain is there; otherwise it would be mere imagination and would need to be sharply corrected to rescue the man from harmful delusion. So God is what He is in Himself. He does not become what we believe. "I AM That I AM." We are on safe ground only when we know what kind of God He is and adjust our entire being to the holy concept. |
John the Witness-Bearer
John bear witness of him and cried, saying, This was he of whom I spake, He that cometh after me is preferred before me: for he was before me--Joh. 1:15
The Large Place Witnessing Has in Scripture
The thought of witness-bearing finds ample expression in the Bible. "Witness" is one of the key words of the Scripture, occurring in the early records of Genesis and in the writings of prophets and apostles. It makes an interesting study to collect the passages in which the word "witness" is found. Sometimes it is God who is the witness; at other times it is the arching heaven above us. Then we read that when Joshua had made a covenant with the people, he took a great stone and set it up under an oak tree, and said, "Behold, this stone shall be a witness unto us" (Jos. 24:26-27). Christ Himself is spoken of as a witness--"Behold I have given him for a witness to the people" (Isa. 55:4); Paul tells us that God had never left Himself without a witness (Act. 14:17); and it was at the feet of that same Paul that the witnesses laid down their clothes in the hour when Stephen cried, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" (Act. 7:59). Let us remember, too, that when we believe on Jesus, there is a witness which we have in ourselves (1Jo. 5:10). Such passages as these help to make plain to us what a large place the witness has in Scripture. The Baptist is not isolated in his witness-bearing; he is one of a great and evergrowing company. Let us try, then, to gather up some of the things to which John bore witness. It may be that we also, like the Baptist, may be sent to be the witness-bearers of Christ Jesus.
Witness to the Presence of Christ
First, then, John bore witness to the presence of Christ. The Jews were eagerly expecting the Messiah. They were thrilled with the hope that He was coming. God had awakened such a longing in their hearts that they knew the advent was not far away. So were they straining their eyes to the east and to the south; so were they anxiously awaiting some splendor of arrival; and John bore witness that the Christ they looked for was standing among them even while he spoke (Joh. 1:26). He was not hidden in the clouds of heaven; He was not lurking in some far concealment; He would not burst upon them in any visible glory, nor with any credentials that would be instantly accepted. Even while John spoke the Christ was there, moving among them as a man unknown--John bore witness to a present Lord. Now that is a witness which we all may share in. We may show our neighbors that Jesus is among them. We may make it plain to our visitors, as John did, that Jesus of Nazareth is not far away. And we do this not so much by speech or by having the name of Jesus on our lips as by revealing His love and power and patience in the general tenor of our lives. There are some men who immediately impress us with the fact that they walk in the company of Christ. There is no explaining the impression that they make unless it be that they are living with Jesus--their secret is, they have a Friend. That is true witness-bearing, and it is like the Baptist's. It is a witness to the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Witness to the Greatness of Christ
Again, John bore witness to the greatness of Christ. Of course the Jews were expecting a great Savior; all their long history made them sure of that. The threefold dignities of king and priest and prophet were to mingle in the person of Messiah. But greatness has diverse meanings; it is touched with a thousand differences on a thousand lips; and when a nation falls from its high ideals, as the Jews had fallen in the time of John, the great man of the popular imagination is not the great man in the sight of God. Now this was part of the witness-beating of the Baptist, to reveal the true greatness and glory of Messiah; to single Him out as He moved amid the people, and proclaim that He was greater than them all. There were no insignia on Jesus' breast; He was not clothed in any robes of state; there was nothing in His adornment or His retinue to mark Him off as one who was truly great. And it was John's work to pierce through all disguise and see the grace and glory of the Man and cry that though He had no beauty that men should desire Him, yet none was worthy to unloose His shoe-latchet (Joh. 1:27). In different ways, and yet in the same spirit, we should all be witness-bearers to Christ's greatness. It is always possible so to think and act and live that men will feel we serve a great Commander. He who thinks meanly and does petty and foolish deeds and has no lofty ideals clearly before him is not commending an exalted Savior. It is in a spirit that is so touched to reveal spiritual greatness, however humble be the believer's daily round, that witness is borne to the greatness of the Lord.
Witness to the Lowliness and Gentleness of Christ
Once more, John bore witness to the lowliness and gentleness of Christ. I think that if John had been a time-server, and had cared only to flatter Jewish prejudice, he would have told his audience that the Spirit had descended, not like a dove, but like an eagle. It was not a dove for which the Jews were looking. They wanted a power to expel the Romans. What a chance for a false prophet this would have been, considering the symbolism of the Roman eagles! But John could only tell what he had seen--a faithful witness will not lie (Pro. 14:5)--and he bare record saying, "I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove" (Joh. 1:32). That means that almost in the teeth of his own stern heart, John bore witness to a dovelike Savior. There was to be a brooding peace about Messiah, a lowly gentleness, a still small voice. And when we remember what John's own nature was and think of the Christ of common expectation, we see how true and faithful was this witness-bearing. May not we, too, bear witness in our lives to the lowly tenderness of our Redeemer? May we not make it plain, as John did, that the Lord whom we know is filled with the dovelike Spirit? We do that whenever we master temper or check the bitter word or take the lowest place. We do that when our unforgiving hearts and our stubborn and proud and selfish wills become imbued with that love and thoughtful tenderness which is the very spirit of Christ Jesus.
Witness to the Sacrifice of Christ
Lastly, John bore witness to the sacrifice of Christ. "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world" (Joh. 1:29). John had roused the conscience of the people; he had awakened in them the sleeping sense of sin. Jewish missionaries tell us that today that is still the first thing they strive to do. But when the sense of guilt was roused in them--what then? Then John's great work of witness-bearing reached its peak. So it may be with every one of us. We, too, may be witness-bearers of the sacrifice. We may so hate and abhor and shun all sin, we may so feel the price of our redemption, we may so live in the sweet sense of pardon, we may be so hopeful for the lowest and worst men, that our life (unknown to us perhaps) shall be a witness-bearing to Christ crucified.
and he shall bring forth the headstone thereof with shoutings, crying, Grace, grace unto it." Zechariah 4:7
His Yoke is Easy
The Two Petitions of the Prodigal
George H. Morrison - Devotional Sermons
The Two Petitions of the Prodigal
A certain man had two sons: And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that calleth to me. And he divided unto them his living--Luk 15:11-12
Father, Give Me
I wonder if my readers ever noticed that the prodigal made two petitions to his father. The first was: "Father, give me." "Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me." The son was growing weary of the home. He felt acutely that he was missing things. The world was big, and the days were going by, and he was young, and he was missing things. It is always bitter, when the heart is young, and the world is rich in visions and in voices, to dwell remote, and feel that one is missing things. The fatal mistake the prodigal made was this--he thought that all that he wanted was far off. He thought that the appeasing of his restlessness lay somewhere over the hills and far away. He was destined to learn better by and by; meantime he must have every penny for his journey, and he came to his father and said, "Father, give me." Mark you, there is no asking of advice. There is no consulting of the father's wishes. There is no effort to learn the father's will in regard to the disposition of the patrimony. It is the selfish cry of thoughtless youth, claiming its own to use just as it will: "Father, give me what is mine."
Father, Make Me
So he got his portion and departed, and we all know the tragic consequences, not less tragic because the lamps are bright, and the wine sparkling, and the faces beautiful. The prodigal tried to feed his soul on sense; and the Lord, in that grim way of His, changes the cups, the music, and the laughter into the beastly routing of the swine. Then the prodigal came to himself. Memories of home began to waken. He lay in his shed thinking of his father. Prayers unbidden rose within his heart. And now his petition was not "Father, give me." He had got all he asked, and he was miserable. His one impassioned cry was, "Father, make me." "Father, make me anything you please. Make me a hired servant if you want to. I have no will but yours now. I am an ignorant child and you are wise." Taught by life, disciplined by sorrow, scourged by the biting lash of his own folly, insistence passed into submission. Once he knew no will but his own will. He must have it, or he would hate his father. Once the only proof of love at home was the getting of the thing that he demanded. But now, "Father, I leave it all to thee. Thou art wise; I have been very foolish. Make me--anything thou pleasest."
Insisting on Nothing, He Got Everything
And surely it is very noteworthy that it was then he got the best. He never knew the riches in the home till he learned to leave things to his father. When he offered his first petition, "Father, give me," the story tells us that he got the money. He got it, and he spent it; in a year he was in rags and beggary. But when the second petition, "Father, make me," welled up like a tide out of the deeps, he got more than he had ever dreamed. "Bring forth the best robe and put it on him." He got the garment of the honored guest. "Bring shoes and put them on his feet, and a ring and put it on his finger." All that was best and choicest in the house, the laid-up riches of his father's treasuries were lavished now on the dusty, ragged child. Insisting on nothing, he got everything. Demanding nothing, he got the choicest gifts. Willing to be whatever his father wanted, there was nothing in the house too good for him. The ring, the robe, the music and the dancing, the vision of what a father's love could be, came when the passionate crying of his heart was, "Father, make me"--anything thou pleasest.
I think that is the way the soul advances when it is following on to know the Lord. Deepening prayers tell of deepening life. Not for one moment do I suggest that asking is not a part of prayer. "Ask, and it shall be given you." "Give us this day our daily bread." I only mean that as experience deepens we grow less eager about our own will, and far more eager to have no will but His. Disciplined by failure and success, we come to feel how ignorant we are. We have cried "Give," and He has given, but sent leanness to our soul (Psa 106:15). And all the time we were being trained and taught, for God teaches by husks as well as prophets, to offer the deep petition, "Father, make me." He gives, and we bless the Giver. He withholds, and we do not doubt His love. We leave all that to Him who knows us, and who sees the end from the beginning. Like the prodigal, we learn a wiser prayer than the fierce insistence of our youth. It is, "Father, make me"--whatso'er Thou pleasest.
Christ's Prayer
Might I not suggest that this was peculiarly the prayer of the Savior? The deepest passion of the Savior's heart rings out in the petition, "Father, make Me." Not "Father give Me bread, for I am hungry; give Me angels, for I stand in peril." Had He prayed for angels in that hour of peril, He tells us they would have instantly appeared. But, "Father, though there be scorn and shame in it, and agony, and the bitterness of Calvary, Thy will be done; make Me what Thou wilt." How gloriously that prayer was answered, even though the answer was a cross! God made Him (as Dr. Moffatt puts it) our wisdom, that is our righteousness and consecration and redemption. Leave, then, the giving in His hands. He will give that which is good. With the prodigal, and the Savior of the prodigal, let the soul's cry be, "Father, make me."
We Travel an Appointed Way
We Travel an Appointed Way By A.W. Tozer
The first device of the "enemy," upon hearing of the undertaking, was to heap ridicule on the whole plan. Sanballat, Tobiah and Geshem laughed Nehemiah and his helpers to scorn. Undeterred, Nehemiah replied with firm assurance, "The God of heaven, he will prosper us." And the work went on according to plan. After all other means had failed to hinder the reconstruction, the conspirators tried to arrange for a conference with Nehemiah. The man of God saw in this an evil purpose to do him mischief and divert him from his monumental work. His reply to the would-be mischief-makers is classic, and might well be adopted for the all-time stock reply to all such overtures: "I am carrying on a great project and cannot go down. Why should the work stop while I leave it and go down to you?" (Nehemiah 6:3). The great task to which God had called Nehemiah was so important that every other consideration must be waived. Would that we might have such an overpowering sense of being about our Father's business and be so impressed with the grandeur of our task that we would reject every suggestion of the evil one that would bid us take up some lesser pursuit. Let us rout him with the words that date back to 445 B.C., and which cannot be improved upon: "I am carrying on a great project and cannot go down." |
Thursday, April 29, 2021
Graven On His Hands?
 Graven On His Hands?
Isaiah 49:16 says: "Behold, I have graven you on the palms of my hands." We are not chalked on God's hands, nor painted on; we are graven. If we were chalked or painted on His hands, He could wash His hands of us. If we are graven on His hands, however, as a sculptor engraves a name in granite, then we are literally on His hands forever. The name of Jesus is not chalked or painted on the facts of history or nature; it is graven -- ineffaceably graven into the nature of reality. As one writer puts it: "The Name of Jesus is not written on history -- it is plowed into it." To be in Christ is to live life according to the grain of the universe, not against it. In the San Francisco airport is this sign: "As you slide down the banister of life, may all the splinters be turned the other way." Well, if you slide down the banister of life without Christ, then all the splinters are turned the wrong way. You get hurt. You cannot revolt against Him without revolting against yourself. "He who spits against the wind spits in his own face." We often think that the alternative is: To be His, or to be my own? If you are not His, however, you are not your own. If you lose Life, you lose life. You are like the child who beats his head against the wall to punish his mother -- and finds it a losing game. To be in Christ is to be in life, to be out of Christ is to be out of life. He is Life. All else is anti-life. |
Rich Beyond all Splendour
Beyond all Splendour
All for love's sake becamest poor;
Thrones for a manger didst surrender,
Sapphire-paved courts for stable floor.
Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,
All for love's sake becamest poor.
Thou who art God beyond all praising,
All for love's sake becamest man;
Stooping so low, but sinners raising
Heavenward by thine eternal plan.
Thou who art God beyond all praising,
All for love's sake becamest man.
Thou who art love beyond all telling,
Saviour and King, we worship thee.
Emmanuel, within us dwelling,
Make us what thou wouldst have us be.
Thou who art love beyond all telling,
Saviour and King, we worship thee.
Hands Beautiful
George H. Morrison - Devotional Sermons
Hands Beautiful
Behold my hands--Luk. 24:39
The Hand--A Symbol of the Active Life
The Bible is signally distinguished for this, that with a message from God it reaches the human heart, but not less remarkable is the attention which it directs to the human hands. In our Western speech, with its leaning toward abstraction, we speak of character and its outflow in conduct; but in the Eastern speech, which has always been pictorial, men spoke of the heart and its witness in the hands. "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord ....? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart." "If thy hand offend thee, cut it off." "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth." And Pilate, wishing to assert his innocence in a manner which the Jews could comprehend, did not cry, "My conduct is reproachless," but in the presence of them all he washed his hands. That is the symbolism of the hand in Scripture. It is conduct incarnate, the sign of the active life. It is the organ through which is sketched, as on a screen, the thought that is singing or surging in the heart.
Behold My Hands
Now if that be true of every human hand, it will be very specially true of the hands of Christ. He is always saying to us "Behold My heart": but in the same voice He says, "Behold My hands." Could any meditation, then, be more appropriate for some quiet evening of communion on a Sabbath? Try to conceive that Christ is in your midst, that Christ on whose body and blood mystical you fed today. Try to conceive that He is standing there and saying to everyone of you, "Behold My hands." What are these hands? What do they signify? We shall run through the Gospel story that we may see.
Hands of Brotherhood
Behold His hands, then, for they are hands of brotherhood. When Jesus came into Peter's house, we read, He saw his wife's mother sick of a fever. And what did He do? He put out His hand and touched her, and she arose and ministered to them. When He was in Bethsaida they brought a blind man to Him, beseeching Him that He would heal him. And what did He do? He took the blind man by the hand, and hand in hand they left the town together. And the world will never forget that scene at Nain, when Jesus met the sad procession to the grave, and moved with compassion He put forth His hand, and touched the bier. In all these cases, and in a hundred others, what men recognized in the touch was brotherhood. Here was no cold pity, no condescension, no distance of heart from heart. Christ came alongside of suffering and sorrow, brought Himself into living and actual touch with it; and the men who were standing by, and who saw it all, said, "Behold His hands, they are the hands of brotherhood."
And always, where the Gospel is at work, it stretches out its hands in the same way. Is not this the glory of the Christian spirit that it pulsates with the sweet sense of brotherhood. The poet Crabee, talking about charity, says:
A common bounty may relieve distress,
But whom the vulgar succor they oppress.
But the Christian never lowers when he helps, for with everything he gives, he gives his hand. It is not the way of the Gospel to isolate itself, and to give cold advice and help as from a distance. It bears men's burdens, understands their need, calls the poorest, brother, and the fallen, sister. Until men feel that the hands stretched out today are the very hands that touched the bier at Nain, and they know that the hands of Christ are hands of brotherhood.
Hands of Power
Again, behold His hands, for they are hands of power. When Jesus went back the second time to Nazareth, do you remember what the villagers said about Him? What they could not fathom was how this carpenter's Son was endued with His unquestionable power. "What wisdom is this that is given Him," they said, "that even such mighty works are wrought by His hands." They had seen these hands busy at carpentering once, but now there was a power in their touch that baffled them. And then I turn to the Gospel of St. John, where our Savior Himself is speaking of His sheep; and He says, "I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." Behold His hands, then, for they are hands of power; they are powerful to do and powerful to keep. There have never been hands on earth like those of Jesus, so mighty in action and in guardianship.
I read the other day in some book about China a remark that had been made by a young Chinese convert. He belonged to the literary class, and had studied Confucius, and the remark he made was something of this kind. He said, "The difference between Confucius and Christ is not so much a question of morality: for I find the golden rule in the sacred books of the East, and a great deal more that Jesus might have uttered; but the difference is that once I was told what to do, but left quite helpless and powerless to do it; but now with the ideal comes the power." The hand of Confucius was a cold, dead hand; it had written the maxim--it could not inspire the man. There was no power in its touch to kindle the dark heart, to animate the will, to change the life. But in contact with Jesus it was very different--that was the meaning of this Chinese student--there was healing and there was power in His touch. What is the power that has abolished slavery? What is the power that has given us a free Scotland? What is the power that has changed ten million lives, inspired the missionary, and made the social worker? The power is the power of the touch of Jesus; it is the impress and the impact of His hand. Behold His hands, then, in the advance of Christendom. Behold His hands in the change of countless lives. Behold them in the new ideals of the multitude; in the graces and perseverance of the saint. They are not only hands of brotherhood, for their very touch has been an inspiration. Behold His hands, for they are hands of power.
Hands of Tenderness
Then again, behold His hands, for they are hands of tenderness. Of all the exquisite pictures in the Gospel I think there is none more exquisite than the scene when "the mothers of Salem their children brought to Jesus." With a mother's instinct for a Man who was really good, they wished their children to be blessed by Him. And the disciples would have kept the children off: Christ was too busy with great affairs to heed an infant. They had never guessed yet that the kingdom of heaven was mirrored for Jesus in these childish eyes. Then Jesus drew the little children to Him, and blessed them; but He did more than that. It has sunk deep into the memories of the evangelists that in blessing them He laid His hand upon them. Do not spoil the act by making it sacerdotal. Do not imagine that He was communicating grace. It was an act of the sweetest and most natural tenderness, the gentle and caressing touch of love. When He laid His hand upon the infant's head, He was laying it upon the mother's heart. Do you think these mothers ever would forget it? Some of them would see that hand again. It would be pierced then, streaming with red blood, and they would say, "Look! that hand was once laid upon my child." Behold His hands, then, they are hands of power; but the mothers could tell you that they were hands of tenderness.
Is not that one of the wonders of Christ's touch--the union of power and gentleness that marks it? It is mighty to heal, mighty to raise the dead; but a bruised reed it will not break. Christ is the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, so is He named in the Book of Revelation; but when John looked in heaven for the Lion, behold, in the midst of the throne a Lamb as it had been slain. Why is the Gospel so precious when the chair is empty and the grave is full? Can you tell me why in seasons of disappointment, in times of distress, anxiety, and sorrow, men find in the Bible their best and truest Comforter? It is not only because the hand of Jesus is powerful to console and to assuage; it is because when every other touch would pain, the touch of Jesus is exquisitely tender. Why are our Christian homes so full of gentle love, so different from the stern spirit of antiquity? There is only one answer, it is "Behold His hands": it is the touch of Christ which has achieved it. In the tender and happy grace of Christian womanhood--behold His hands. In the kindness and care that is shown to the dumb creatures--behold His hands. The very dogs, says Dr. Laws of Livingstonia, the very dogs here feel the benefits of Christianity. His touch is mighty, then, mighty to heal and save--there are those who vouch for that. But the hand that was laid so gently on the children has never been withdrawn from humanity.
Hands of Suffering
Once more, behold His hands, for they were once disfigured. Their beauty was torn away from them with wounds. They were pierced with nails, and fastened to the cross, in the hour when Jesus Christ was crucified. I have often thought that the scribes and Pharisees must have had a twice-distilled pleasure when the hands were nailed. They would say "Behold these hands that once wrought such mighty deeds; they will never trouble or vex us anymore. Look at them ragged and torn, pierced through and through." It was an exquisite morsel of revenge. These hands had played havoc with the priest's hypocrisies: they had plaited the scourge and used it in the Temple. Look at them now on the cross--what hands in the world so powerless--their little day of authority is dead.
But the strange thing is that it is the hands which were pierced that have been the mightiest power in human history. Not the hands laid upon the blind man's eyes, not the hands laid upon the children's heads, have been so mighty in the world's redemption as the hands that were marred and wounded on the cross. Is not that strange? There was a little maiden whose mother was very beautiful--she was very beautiful excepting her hands, and her hands were shrunken and shriveled and unsightly. For a long time, with the delicate reticence of girlhood, the little girl said nothing on the matter; but at last her curiosity overpowered her. "Mother," she said, "I love your beautiful face, and I love your beautiful eyes and brow and neck; but I cannot love your hands, they are so ugly." Then her mother told her the story of her hands. She said, "When you were an infant sleeping in your cradle, one night the cry of fire rang through the house. I rushed upstairs--the nursery was ablaze--but God led me right to the cradle and I saved you; but ever since then my hands have been like this." The little girl was silent for a moment. Then she said "O mother, I still love your face: but I love your hands now. best of all. "Behold His hands, for they were pierced for us!
Hands of Reassurance
Lastly, behold His hands for they are hands of reassurance. After Jesus was risen from the dead, the disciples gathered together and Thomas was with them. And Jesus appeared standing in their midst, and said to them "Peace be with you." We all know how Thomas had doubted Him. He had said, "except I see in His hand the print of the nails." Nothing would satisfy or convince that realist except the print of the nail upon the palm. And Jesus said to him, "Thomas, behold My hand; is not that the hand that was nailed upon the tree?"--which, when hearing and seeing, Thomas falls before Him crying "My Lord and my God." I ask you ever to remember, then, that the hand of Christ is a reassuring hand. When we are tempted to doubt if He still lives and reigns, to us as to Thomas He says, "Behold My hands." Much may be dark to us and much may be inexplicable; we may not fathom the mysteries of grace. We know not where Jesus is, nor can we behold Him; but like Thomas we can behold His hands. In a thousand deeds and in a thousand lives there is the unmistakable touch of the Redeemer. Does not that reassure us and kindle our faith again? Does it not inspire our hope and nerve our faint endeavor? It is the risen Savior saying, "Behold My hands"; it is our answering cry "My Lord and My God."
God First
God First
John 2:24-25
"Love never faileth" (I. Cor. xiii. 8).
Isaiah Proclaiming God's Power for the Weak
In The Heavenly Places
Wednesday, April 28, 2021
Grasp Without Reach
The Cosmic and the Universal Christ
 The Cosmic and the Universal Christ by T. Austin-Sparks This phase of our general theme is to be considered along two lines, (a) the universality of the Person of Christ; (b) the universality of the Name of Jesus, the Christ. The former will occupy our attention at present. Our usage of the word "universal" is meant to imply the limitlessness of Christ in relation to time and space, but when we speak of the "Cosmic" Christ we particularly mean His significance to the Entire Cosmos, or world. (The term "Kosmos" is fully defined in another address.) It is of the utmost importance that the people of God should recognise the universality of the Christ into Whom they have been incorporated, for it is into that universality that they have been merged. The great terms and themes of the Gospel, such as "Jesus Christ," Saviour, Salvation, Redemption, Propitiation, Atonement, Sanctification, etc., are not afterthoughts of creation, emergency means to meet something which is in the nature of an accident in the world. The sufferings of the Cross are not merely related to something subsequent to creation. The sacrificial idea did not originate as so many have taught, in the mind of primitive man and slowly developed into a highly organised ritual. The Biblical system of sacrifices and blood covenants were not taken over from pagan races and given a new meaning, although the system in general may have been the religious expression of paganism. The true and pure principles and meanings of judging, purging, and renewing through sacrifice and blood were a Divine concept before the world was. A covenant existed before the creation of the world between the Father and the Son. This was a covenant in blood and therefore necessitated incarnation, death, and resurrection. It related not only to the earth but also to the heavens, both of which had need of being purged of some foul thing which had intruded. All pagan and heathen systems of sacrifice are distortions of the pure concept which was in the Divine mind before the world was, for "the Lamb was slain from the foundation of the world." For this universal work a universal person is needed, and such a one must carry in himself the attributes which are universal. He must not belong to one age or one nation or one world. He must be vested with universal authority. Thus Jesus is the Christ, that is, the Anointed. He is anointed in Eternity, before the creation, and the anointing is His commission and His endowment for a universal mission. The whole record of scripture throws its weight upon the fact that Christ undertook and was anointed to fulfil some work in the universe anterior to "the fall", and which embraced the results of "the fall" also. It is also very clear that upon this earth through incarnation that work was to be done. But this earth and the Divine Drama of the Cross is relative to something infinitely greater. Principalities and Powers, Angels and Archangels, and super-cosmic intelligences are interested, bound up, looking into, and being instructed by this. Having but hinted at this universality of the Person and work of Christ, it might be well to note some of the cosmic and universal elements in His earthly life and work. But perhaps it will be well to remain out in the open for a few minutes longer ere we come to the more historical. |
They declared their pedigrees. Num 1:18
The Great Refusal
George H. Morrison - Devotional Sermons
The Great Refusal
They gave him wine to drink mingled with gall: and when he had tasted thereof, he would not drink--Mat 27:34
The One Cup Jesus Refused to Drink
It was a kindly provision of the Jews to give an opiate to the condemned. They found their warrant in the page of the Old Testament. Anesthetics in these earlier days were, of course, very far from perfect. There was no method of mitigating pain save by some dulling or stupefying drug. And it was such a draught that was offered to the Lord when He reached the place appointed for His death. This was fittingly the ministry of women. There was a guild of ladies who charged themselves with that. They bought the ingredients and mingled them, and had them ready for the unhappy criminal. And no one who witnessed the scene ever forgot how, when the draught was handed to the Lord, He quietly and deliberately refused it. He took it, and He tasted it. He was always courteous to the kind. He recognised the compassion that inspired it, and to the compassionate He was ever gracious. Then, having tasted it, and having thanked them, He quite deliberately returned the cup. It was the one cup which He refused to drink. Can we understand that swift declination? Can we fathom the reasons of refusal? The answer brings us to the heart of things.
Had He Drunk It He Would Have Marred the Crowning Service of His Life
One thinks, for instance, how the drinking of that draught would have marred the crowning service of His life. The Cross was the crowning service of His life. There is a way of thinking of the death of Jesus as if it were the tragic end of a high story. There are those who take it as the pitiable opposite of all the rich and popular activities of Galilee. But never, through the whole New Testament, is there even a hint of such a view as that--the Cross is the crowning service of His life. Christ deliberately chose that by which He was to be remembered. It was the hour when everything burst into a flame. It gathered up into one splendid action all the redeeming labours of His days. All He had come to do--all He had lived for--all His work as prophet, priest, teacher and king--was crowned in the last service of the Cross. Now, when a man is facing noble service, does he drug his faculties with opiates? Does the surgeon take a drug before the operation? Does the captain do it when the storm is threatening? For such hours, the crowning hours of service, when tremendous demands are going to be imposed, a man must be at his clearest and his best. Had His work been over, our Lord might have drunk that draught. He might have argued that nothing mattered now. That swift refusal, as with a flash of light, reveals the Master's outlook on His death. It was no tragic and pitiable end, to be got through with the minimum of suffering. It was a service to be wrought with His whole being.
Akin to that is the great thought that our blessed Lord died of His own will. "No man taketh it [my life] from me, but I lay it down of myself" (Joh 10:18). No beast in the sacrificial rites of Judaism ever died of its own will. It was dragged to the altar, struggling and reluctant. It died because other hands were gripping it. And the infinite value of the death of Jesus lay in its being a voluntary sacrifice--I come to do Thy will, O God. Now the singular power of opiates is this, that they interfere with the freedom of the will. Under their influence we are no longer free. We pass under the dominance of others. We are not controlled nor directed from within when the drug has poured its poison through the veins; we are controlled and directed from without. No longer are we self-determined, nor do we act because we will to act. We have yielded up the mastery of life; we have rendered our personality to others. And that was the one thing our Master could not do if, in the perfect freedom of His love, He was to lay His life down of Himself. So He took the cup, and tasted it, for He was always courteous to the kindly--and then, deliberately, He refused it.
How Much We Would Have Lost Had He Drunk the Cup
One thinks again how much we should have lost had the Lord drunk of that stupefying draught. We should have lost some of the sweetest passages of Scripture. We should never have heard that wonderful prayer for pardon, "Father, forgive them; they know not what they do." We should never have known His filial care for Mary, "Woman, behold thy son." We should never have had the ringing, glad assurance wherewith He cried in a loud voice, "It is finished"--the greatest word in the whole of human history. What multitudes have been rescued from despair by the story of the penitent thief, saved and blessed at the eleventh hour, when it seemed too late even for heaven's mercy? Yet of that penitent thief we never should have heard, nor of his cry, nor of the Lord's "Today shalt thou be with me in paradise," had He drunk of that stupefying drug. A poorer Bible and a poorer Christendom--was our Lord conscious of all that? I do not know; the Scripture does not tell us. No man can fathom the consciousness of Jesus. I only know we should have lost forever the seven words upon the Cross, had He not refused to drink the offered draught.
He Wanted to be Our Brother in Suffering
One wonders, too, if in that great refusal our Lord was not thinking of His own. For in spite of all the advances of our knowledge, suffering is still terribly real. There was a friend of my boyhood's home who suffered from an excruciating trouble. He was a genuinely Christian man, who had been active in the service of the Kingdom. And when friends stooped down to catch what he was whispering as he lay at last upon his bed of agony, what they heard was, "He suffered more for me." Was our Lord thinking of that follower when He came to Golgotha that day? Did He resolve that He would be a Brother, down to the very depths of human agony? It would be so like Him if that were in His heart when--facing the untold agony of Calvary--He refused to drink the wine mingled with gall.
"For he shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those that condemn his soul." Psalm 109:31
J. C. Philpot - Daily Portions
"For he shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those that condemn his soul." Psalm 109:31
How cheering, how comforting it is, to have a friend to stand by us when we are in trouble. Such a friend is Jesus.
In the hour of necessity, he comes as a friend to stand by the right hand of the poor creature, whose soul is condemned by guilt and accusations. But he stands in a far higher relation than that of a friend; he stands too as a Surety and a Deliverer.
He goes, as it were, into the court; and when the prisoner stands at the bar, he comes forward and stands at his right hand as his surety and bondsman; he brings out of his own bosom the acquittance of the debt signed and sealed with his own blood, he produces it before the eyes of the court, and claims and demands the acquittal and absolution of the prisoner at whose right hand he stands.
He stands there, then, that the prisoner may be freely pardoned, and completely justified from those accusations that "condemn his soul."
O sweet standing!--O blessed appearance! Unbelief, the workings of a desperately wicked heart, and the fearful suggestions of the enemy, come forward to condemn us; but Christ Jesus, this Mediator betwixt God and man, "stands at the right hand of the poor," and produces his own glorious righteousness.
Are we pressed down with unbelief? He communicates faith. Is our mind sinking into despair? He breathes into it hope. Is the soul bowed down with guilt, at a distance from God, unable to approach him on account of its heavy temptations? He puts his own arm under this poor dejected soul and lifts up his bowed-down head, and then the soul looks upwards, and instead of wrath sees the countenance of the Father beaming mercy and love, because the Surety is "standing at the right hand of the poor."
"The sweetness of the lips" (Prov. xvi. 21).
"The sweetness of the lips" (Prov. xvi. 21).
Spiritual conditions are inseparably connected with our physical life. The flow of the divine life-currents may be interrupted by a little clot of blood; the vital current may leak out through a very trifling wound.
If you want to keep the health of Christ, keep from all spiritual sores, from all heart wounds and irritations. One hour of fretting will wear out more vitality than a week of work; and one minute of malignity, or rankling jealousy or envy will hurt more than a drink of poison.
Sweetness of spirit and joyousness of heart are essential to full health. Quietness of spirit, gentleness, tranquility, and the peace of God that passes all understanding, are worth all the sleeping draughts in the country.
We do not wonder that some people have poor health when we hear them talk for half an hour. They have enough dislikes, prejudices, doubts, and fears to exhaust the strongest constitution.
Beloved, if you would keep God's life and strength, keep out the things that kill it; keep it for Him, and for His work, and you will find enough and to spare.
Tuesday, April 27, 2021
Discovering Divine Designs
Isaiah 54
Isaiah 54