The Gospel Feast
“Come, for all things are now ready.” — Luke 14: 17.
The Gospel is a Feast Prepared.
We have not to make ready a single dish. All that we need comes to us freely through Jesus Christ. If we are guilty and plead for pardon, we are forgiven upon His merit. If polluted, we plead for cleansing, the blood of Christ washes away every stain. Are we at unrest? “He is our peace,”
Making peace with God is a losing business. Peace has been already made; and what we need is to accept this peace and enter upon its enjoyment. A friend of mine went into the mountains of North Carolina, to spend a few weeks of summer vacation, in the hope that he
might get away from the mail, the whistle of the engine, and everything that reminded him of work. With much difficulty he climbed a high mountain and descended on the other side into a country covered with a dense forest. He thought, to be sure, no one lived in this out-ofthe-way place; but what was his surprise to find in the centre of these woods a little cottage surrounded by several acres of cultivated land. On his approach the door was shut, the window closed, and he saw at a glance that the inmates did not intend to admit him. After much pleading, however, the door was opened, and he learned that two men had been living there for nearly three years. They had deserted from the Confederate army, and had gone to this out-of-the-way place, built their cottage, cleared their land, and made up their minds to keep out of the reach of the conscripting officer. They were delighted to learn that the war had been over more than two years, and they were glad to return to their homes. Now, peace had been in existence twTo years, but these men did not know it, and hence did not enjoy it As soon as they learned of peace, they began to enter upon its enjoyment.
Soldiers, having refused to surrender after peace had been declared, might have gone to the Black Hills and waged a guerilla warfare against the government. Such are those who, having heard of the peace which Christ has made, refuse to accept it, while they continue their warfare of unbelief.
We have not to keep the peace. “The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your minds and hearts through Christ Jesus.” The peace keeps us. When a country is bothered with keeping the peace, it is a time of turmoil and unrest, which may end in revolution. When a country is kept by peace — peace reigning like a queen — it is a time of rest, prosperity, and progress. We cannot insist too strongly that the peace of God and all other graces come to us as a gift through Christ Jesus.
The Mission of the Church is to make
definite God’s General Invitation to
the Feast.
The man who made this supper sent his servants to “bid them that were bidden,’* to invite the invited. His invitation had gone out some time before; and, now that the time for feasting has arrived, the servants make personal and special this general invitation. The general invitation of “whosoever will” has gone out to mankind. It is our mission to seek the invited and make direct and personal this invitation of God.
A gentleman sat in my congregation one afternoon, distressed about his sins, anxious for salvation. He remained for the inquiry meeting. A young convert, who had never done such a thing before in her life, went to his side, opened the Bible, put her finger upon a promise that had given her comfort, and asked him to read it. As he read, the light came into his mind, the way of life was clear. He accepted Christ, and rejoiced. Now that young convert’s mission was to make the promise definite and personal; and her mission is ours. The pastor proclaims the gospel on Sunday. In the nature of the case the proclamation must be more or less general. Let each member of the church feel that he is commissioned in the after meeting, in the home, in the personal intercourse with friends, to make definite this general proclamation of peace.
It is difficult to make an Excuse for not becoming a christian.
“They began with one consent to make excuse.” They had no excuse in hand; it had to be made; and after an excuse for not doing right is made, it is not worth the making. Nearly all excuses are lies guarded; at the heart of them is a falsehood. Their object is to cover the real reason.
The reason why these men did not come to the feast was that they did not want to come. A man comes to you to borrow five hundred dollars. The reason you do not wish to lend it is that you fear he will not repay you. But in giving him an excuse, lest you offend him, if you are not careful, you will tell two or three lies in the attempt.
Let us look a moment at the excuses of these men. One had bought a piece of ground, and he said, “I must needs go and see it.” Now that was a lie. He had bought the ground, and there was no need of his going to see it. The need of seeing came before buying. If he had said, “I have bought the ground and I will go and see it,” he might have told the truth. But when he said “I must go,” he spoke falsely. In attempting to make our excuses good, we are apt to overshoot the mark, and make them false upon their face.
The second man said “I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them.” There is a lie in the word “prove.” The proving should have taken place before the buying, and his emphasizing the fact that now he must try them after he had bought them shows the weakness of his excuse.
The third said “I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.” The lie of this excuse is in the word “therefore.” He had married a wife, and therefore he ought to have come. It wras a time of festivity with him, and he and his bride might have come to enjoy the delightful occasion. But when he gives his marrying as a reason for not coming to a feast, his excuse is false to the core.
But with what politeness two of these men cover up their flimsy excuses! “I pray thee, have me excused.” “I pray thee.” It is very difficult to reach men who make excuses, and parry you off with politeness. You tell them that it is time for them to be Christians. They treat you kindly; they are courtesy itself; they would not violate a law of good manners. They simply refuse to come, and their very gentlemanly bearing puts you at a disadvantage with them. I know two or three men with whom I have talked and urged them to become Christians, and they have treated me with such uniform courtesy and kindness that I have felt that it would be a relief if they would get rough and angry — anything to break the monotony of courteous refusal to accept the Lord we love. The last man, who has married a wife, seems to think that he has a little better excuse than the rest, and he can afford not to be polite. So he blurts out gruffly “Therefore I cannot come.” He does not say “I pray thee, excuse me.” He cares not whether you excuse him or not. He is not coming; that is the end of the matter. But this gruff and discourteous reply carries in it more hopefulness than the smooth-flowing and courteous response of the other men. The man who flatly refuses may be led flatly to accept; while the man who is polite and gentle and forbearing even in his refusal is apt to continue in that course, which he himself admires, to the very last.
God accepts with Indignation a Bad
Excuse, and passes Men by.
Being angry, he said to His servants, “Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city and bring in hither the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind.” “Pass by these men who are able to buy land and oxen and marry wives, and go out for those who are too poor to buy land or oxen, or too low and mean for anybody to marry them. Go out into the street and tell every man you meet that the feast is spread, and the Master is waiting for the guests.” “Lord, we have done as Thou hast commanded, and yet there is room.”” Go now into the highways, out beyond the walls where the gypsies camp, and there you will find some poor creatures without a roof, curled up under the hedges for a night’s repose; tell them that there is a place at my table even for them. If they are reluctant to come, you must compel them by earnest persuasion. Do not take an excuse from them, for their need
is so great that, after your entreaty, they will yield and come.”
What God does we sometimes feel constrained to do. We must pass by the good, moral man, and seek the outcast. We must pass by those who, we think, would make the best members of the church, and go with our invitation to the very refuse of society. Sad to say, we must sometimes pass by our very children, while we go out after others, not united to us by fleshly ties. Work like this demands that we love people, — not classes or kindred merely, — love like that of Christ, who so loved the whole world that He gave Himself for it.
The great question in commerce is as to the refuse. A large silk manufacturer in London made little profit in his business until he invented a machine that utilized the refuse of his factory, and since then he has had an annual income of over half a million dollars. I have heard that the Standard Oil Company now has an income of nearly two millions as the result of their utilizing the refuse of the refineries. Formerly it was cast out to be burned or buried. It was a dirty, sticky stuff upon the floor, and was in the way; but a chemical process was discovered by which this unsightly refuse could be transformed into chewing gum, and made palatable even to the taste of refined young ladies.
As with commerce, the great question of the day, social, political, and religious, is concerning the refuse of society. What shall we do with the masses in our great cities, untouched by the church, careless of law, despairing, hungry, and cold? Can the gospel do anything for them? We believe that it is the sovereign remedy, and, when the polite and refined refuse to accept our message, let us rush by them down into the highways and hedges and tell those who are worse off that there is a feast for them which God has prepared. And out of this refuse there will come forth an income to God which we cannot calculate.
The verdict went forth, “None of those men which were bidden shall taste of my supper.” Terrible thought that God Himself may leave us to our lying excuses. More terrible thought that God may pass us by and give us over to our own selfish ways. I have known of two cases in which men seemed to have been forsaken by the Spirit of God, because they refused to accept the invitation that was given by a faithful messenger. One of them was a leading lawyer, prominent in politics, among the first men of his State. A friend of mine pressed upon him the claims of God, and urged him to come to this feast. He treated my friend kindly and politely, saying, u I am too busy; I am now running for Congress; I have on my shoulders the building of a railroad. I know it is an important matter, but I cannot come now.” Three years afterwards a messenger rushed into a minister’s house, asking him to come and see this lawyer. The preacher saw7 it was too late to do any good. There he lay, dying of delirium tremens, cursing God with every breath. He deliberately refused to accept the invitation, wras allowed to go on in his way, and become fixed in sinful character.
Another friend, a converted Catholic priest, was preaching in a country church, when he noticed a young man with a bright face sitting near the front. After the sermon he went down and asked him if he was a Christian. “No, sir,” was the reply, “but I am interested.” “Decide now,” urged my friend, “for to delay the matter is dangerous.” “Not now,” he said, “but I will soon.” The meeting continued one week, and the young man persisted in refusing to accept the invitation. My friend went to another church several miles distant, to hold a second meeting, and was surprised to see this same young man in the congregation, but in the back part of the house. He went to him and urged him again to decide for Christ; now he noticed that he was more indifferent, that he spoke of it in rather a light manner. But he came every day during the week and listened attentively. My friend went to a third church several miles distant, and this young man followed him to that meeting, but then he was out in the yard among the scoffers, and, coming into the house late, seemed to take little interest in the preaching. More than a year after this last meeting my friend was called to see that young man die. He sat by his side and tried to urge upon him even now, at this late hour, to accept the invitation to the feast. The young man shook his head sadly and said, “It is too late, sir. Since that last meeting when I heard you preach, my heart has been as hard as stone. There is no use in praying for me.” My friend knelt at his bedside and tried to pray, but he could not help feeling that it was no use. The young man had hardened himself in sin and unbelief, until the very avenues of approach to his soul seemed to have been cut off. The last words he said were, “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and I am not saved.”
Young man, I beg you, pass not by this invitation of God so lightly. Make no excuse. Accept at once, and take your place at the table of salvation, where angels themselves are the waiters. Cause not the Lord of mercy to pass you by with anger. Give not His servants pain in feeling that they too must pass you by, while they press on and seek to save others. Accept pardon, peace, and power through Christ, and begin the Christian life, which is a feast and not a funeral. Its joy begun on earth is a foretaste of the eternal joy in heaven.