Primitive Doubtings, and Their Cure
“When the Lord had thus spoken, he shewed them his hands and his
feet.” — Luke xxiv. 40.
The light in which the disciples viewed the great facts respecting this dead and risen Substitute, never raised the question of their own acceptance; or at least, in raising it, settled it at once and for ever. Our way of regarding these, seems only to- raise the question, not to settle it; nay, it makes the settlement of it one of the most subtle, prolonged, and intricate processes which a tried soul ever undertook. According to the apostles, the adjustment of the personal question was the simple and immediate result of their knowledge of the risen Christ. According to many of us, peace with God can only be the result of the knowledge of self, or rather of the begun improvement of self, in addition to the knowledge of Christ; the fruit of a lifetime’s hard experience; the inference from an algebraic summation of doubtino;s and believing the termina-O CD ’
tion of one of the most tedious and painful processes of metaphysical analysis and mental scrutiny ever attempted by man. Strange, that the knowledge of a risen Christ, which, in apostolic days, was the ending of all doubt, and suspicion, and perplexity, should, in our day, with so many, be only the beginning of these. Strange, that that which was once the settlement of every personal question between the soul and God, should now be the signal for letting loose all such questions, and letting them loose in a way which makes it impossible that they can ever be conclusively adjusted. Strange, that that which was meant to throw men entirely out of self, either righteous or unrighteous self, by handing them over to the Divine Substitute, should be the very thing which now is employed for throwing them into self; thus degrading the Sinbearer, and converting into a secondary remedy his completed propitiation on the cross.
God’s plan, in his glorious gospel, was to reach self by means of Christ; our plan is, to reach Christ by means of self. To be satisfied with Christ, was the primitive way of peace and forgiveness; to be satisfied with self, in addition to Christ, is the modern plan of many: as if the other were too free and too simple; as if the peace obtained in the primitive way were too liable to abuse, and therefore needing a check and safeguard, to protect the threatened interests of holiness.
To be satisfied with Christ, is surely, of itself, life and gladness, as well as the destruction of sin. To be satisfied with self, in addition to this, is to add to the finished propitiation of the Son of God, and to cast doubts upon the efficacy of his cross. To seek to be satisfied with self, in order to be satisfied with Christ, or to make Christ satisfied with us, is the introduction of one of the subtlest forms of self-righteousness, by means of which, combined Popery and Arminianism ever subverted the free grace of God, and rebuilt the barrier between the sinner and the kingdom, which the Son of God had thrown down. To be satisfied with Christ, is the simplest, purest, brightest form of faith. To be satisfied with self, is the darkest and deadliest form of self-righteous unbelief. To recognise the completeness, personal and vicarious, of the Christ of God, dying and rising for sinners, — this is peace, this is life, this is sunshine. To begin to think about our own act of recognition, in order to ascertain its completeness and perfection, — this is the entrance of gloom, and trouble, and doubt; nay, this is, in many cases, the first step of apostasy; this is to renounce the cross, and to fall from grace.
II. The Lord’s way of meeting the doubts of the disciples. — “He shewed them his hands and his feet.” That which they doubted was, whether this Stranger who had come to them, and who looked so like their old Master, were in very deed himself. If he were, then he must have risen from the dead; for they saw him die, nay, they had buried him. If this were he, then all had come true which he had spoken of himself, and which the prophets had spoken concerning him. He was now doubly demonstrated to be the Christ. That which he had
K spoken to them concerning his rising from the dead was no vain thing; and now they saw in him, not only all that they had seen before, but much more. As the dying Christ, he was much more to them than the living Christ; but as the risen Christ, he was more than the dying Christ. The seed had not only been sown and taken root, but was now springing up into a glorious tree.
His object, then, in shewing them his hands raid his feet, was not onljr to convince them that he was no spectre, no shadow; but that he was the very Christ who had been crucified. The nail-prints were the proof, not only that he had died, but that he had triumphed over death; that, though “crucified through weakness, he lived again by the power of God.” The sin had been borne; the blood had been shed; the sacrifice offered up; the penalty paid; the law satisfied; righteousness honoured; Satan baffled; death overcome. Of all these things the nail-prints assured them. They were the chief of the “many infallible proofs” (Acts i. 3) given to his disciples of his true resurrection.
Strange as this kind of recognition, this way of fixing the doubted identity, may seem, it was satisfactory. The mother in the story knew her long-lost child by the scar on the shoulder received in infancy; so was the Son of God recognised by the nail-prints and the bruises of the cross. But did the disciples need this? Were the loved features not the same as ever? Were the eyes that wept over Jerusalem not the same as before; or had the grave robbed them of their tenderness and lustre? Were the lips, from which came the gracious words of parting love, not the same as in the upper chamber at the Last Supper? Was the voice so altered, that they did not know its tones? No. These resemblances might all be recognised; but so many things threw doubt upon these recognitions, and they were so slow of heart to believe what the prophets had spoken, that, instead of reasoning in favour of his identity from the fact that he professed to be risen from the dead, they stumbled at this stumbling-stone, and raised doubts out of the very events which ought to have dissipated all. It was not till they had seen him die that they would believe that he could die; and now not even their own eyes will convince them that he is risen; so little did they understand what Messiah was to be, and to do, and to suffer. Their one redeeming point was attachment to his person. Of his sacrificial work they knew but little; of his blood-shedding they had but slenderly felt their need; into the profound significance of his death they had not yet entered. But to his person they were attached, with all the warmth of true-hearted friendship. And it is of this personal attachment that the Lord is making use, to lead them into the deeper, truer knowledge of his mighty work.
They were to be made to recognise him by his wounds; his healed, but still visible wounds; the scars of the cross, the marks of suffering and death. Their unbelief was to be allowed so to come out, that nothing would remove it, but that which proved him to be the very kind of person they had all along shrunk from acknowledging, — One who must die in order to bless them. Their former faith in his person had been shaken (founded as it was on very imperfect knowledge); and that which was to reassure them was his wounds. The old chords that fastened them to his person had been shaken and strained, till they had almost snapped; and the new link, which was to knit them more firmly than ever to his person, was that which fastened itself, not so much to his person, as to his work as the Substitute. They had known him as the seed of the woman; they were now to know him as the Man with the bruised heel, “the Lamb as it had been slain.”
It was with this same blessed evidence that the staggering faith of Thomas was held up, when nothing save the sight of the nail-prints could reassure him; and it was on similar ground that the beloved John was comforted in Patmos, when he fell at the feet of the glorious one. This same Jesus laid his right hand on him, and said, “Fear not, I am the First and the Last; I am he that liveth and was dead.” It is thus that he approaches us still, and shews us his hands and his feet, that by these scars we may be made to feel that he is in very deed the Christ that we need. And in in doing so, he shews us the true way of dispelling doubt, of whatever kind it may be, viz., the fuller knowledge of himself, as the dead, the buried, the risen, and living Christ. It is this that is the cure of all unbelief, the death of doubting, the cherish er of faith, the perpetual source of stability and peace; for the real cause of all doubting is imperfect knowledge of the Lord.
Nor let any one say, I know all that I can know, both of himself and of his work. He that says this, knows nothing yet as he ought to know. When doubt arises, and unbelief gets the mastery, and estrangement comes in, let the first thought be, — Could this have taken place, had I fully known him whom I profess to have received; and will not another look at him, another glimpse at his glorious person and deep- scarred wounds, fully reassure me, and rebuke all alarm or distrust?
He shews you once more his hands and his feet, that through them you may know him, by these “infallible proofs,” to be the very Christ you need, both for heart and for conscience. The Christ we need is such a Christ as will not only reveal the immeasurable love of God, but convince our consciences as to the lawfulness of that love, by shewing us the life, the death, the resurrection of a divine Substitute, through means of whom this love to the sinner is enabled to give itself out lawfully and righteously to man.
He is the Christ of Bethlehem; the Child that was born, the Son that was given. But this is not enough. Mere incarnation falls short of our wants, and fails to pacify the conscience.
He is the Christ of Nazareth; the Man that dwelt among sinners, and shewed the love of God to sinners But this is not enough.
He is the Christ of Capernaum; the great worker of miracles, the healer of the sick, the raiser of the dead, the feeder of the hungry, the utterer of the most gracious words that ever fell on the ear of man. But this will not purge the conscience, or secure our peace with God.
Accordingly, he shews himself as the Christ of Gethsemane, the Christ of Golgotha, the Christ of Joseph’s tomb. And what shall we more say? Who, after the proof that is given of death and resurrection, can persist in doubting, or refuse to be comforted? And, if these gracious facts will not cheer and revive, what is there that will do it in earth or heaven? Look at him with prolonged gaze. See him as he was and is; as the dead, the buried, the risen One. Look at his hands, his feet, his side. These scars, though healed, are allowed to remain, just on purpose to meet your doubts, and banish your distrust. He who raised him from the dead, left these scars still visible, these marks of death and weakness, these memorials of the cross and its nails, in order, by means of them, to speak to you, to give you demonstration of his true death and true resurrection, that thereby you might be comforted exceedingly, nay, be like those of whom it is written, “Then were the disciples glad when they saw the Lord.”