The Last Words of Christ on the Cross
’ delivered by
C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE metropolitan TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON,
On Lords-day Evening, June 25th, 1882.
“And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.” — Luke xxiii. 46.
“Into thine hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O Loed God of truth.” — Psalm xxxi. 6.
“And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God, and saying. Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” — Acts vii. 59.
This morning,* dear friends, I spoke upon the first recorded worde of our Lord Jesus when he said to his mother and to Joseph, “How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?” Now, by the help of the blessed Spirit, we will consider the last words of our Lord Jesus before he gave up the ghost, and with them we will examine two other passages in which similar expressions are used.
The words, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit,” if we judge them to be the last which our Saviour uttered before his death, ought to be coupled with those other words, “It is finished,” which some have thought were actually the last he used. I think it was not so; but, anyhow, these utterances must have followed each other very quickly, and we may blend them together, and then we shall see how very similar they are to his first words as we explained them this morning. There is the cry, “It is finished,” which you may read in connection with our Authorized Version: “Wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?” That business was all finished; he had been about it all his life, and now that he had come to the end of his days, there was nothing left undone, and he could say to his Father, “I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do.” Then if you take the other utterance of our Lord on the cross, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit,” see how well it agrees with the other reading of our morning text, “Wist ye not that I must be in my Father’s house?” Jeeus is putting himself
* See Metropolitan Tabernacle Fulpit, No. 1,666, “The First Recorded Words of Jeeus.”
6G4 METBOPOLITAN TABEBNACLB PULPIT.
into hhe Father’s hands because he had always desired to be thjre,.
in the Father’s house with the Father; and now he is committing his spirit, as a sacred trust, into the Father’s hands that he may depart to be with the Father, to abide in his house, and go no more out for ever.
Christ’s life is all of a piece, just as the alpha and the omega are letters of the same alphabet. You do not find him one thing at the first, another thing afterwards, and a third thing still later; but he is “Jesus Christ; the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.” There is a wondrous similarity about everything that Christ said and did. You never need write the name “Jesus” under any one of his sayings, as you have to put the names of human writers under their sayings, for there is no mistaking any sentence that he has uttered.
If there is anything recorded as having been done by Christ, a believing child can judge whether it is authentic or not. Those miserable false gospels that were brought out did very little if any mischief, because nobody, with any true spiritual discernment, was ever duped into believing them to be genuine. It is possible to manufacture a spurious coin which will, for a time, pass for a good one; but it is not possible to make even a passable imitation of what Jesus Christ has said and done. Everything about Christ is like himself; there is a Christlikeness about it which cannot be mistaken. This morning, for instance, when I preached about the Holy Child Jesus, I am sure you must have felt that there was never such another child as he was; and in his death he was as unique as in his birth, and childhood, and life. There was never another who died as he did, and there was never another who lived altogether as he did. Our Lord Jesus Christ stands by himself; some of us tiy to imitate him, but how feebly do we follow in his steps! The Christ of God still standeth by himself, and there is no possible rival to him.
I have already intimated to you that I am going to have three texts for my sermon; but when I have spoken upon all three of them, you will see that they are so much alike that I might have been content with one of them.
I. I invite you first to consider our Saviour’s words just before HIS DEATH: “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”
Here observe, first, how Christ lives and passes away in the atmosphere of the Word of God. Christ was a grand original thinker, and he might always have given us words of his own. He never lacked suitable language, for “never man spake like this Man.” Yet you must have noticed how continually he quoted Scripture; the great majority of his expressions may be traced to the Old Testament. Even where they are not exact quotations, his words drop into Scriptural shape and form. You can see that the Bible has been his one Book. He is evidently familiar with it from the first page to the last, and not with its letter only, but with the innermost soul of its most secret sense; and, therefore, when dying, it seemed but natural for him to use a passage from a Psalm of David as his expiring words. In his death, he was not driven beyond the power of quiet thought, he was not unconscious, he did not die of weakness, he was strong even while he was dying. It is true that he sairl “I thirst;” but, aftr he had been a little refreshed, he cried with a loud voice, as only a strong man could, “It is finished.” And now, ere he bows his head in the silence of death, he utters his final words, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” Our Lord might, I say aain, have made an original speech as his dying declaration; his mind was clear, and calm, and undisturbed; in fact, he was perfectly happy, for he had said, “It is finished.” So his sufferings were over, and he was already beginning to enjoy a taste of the sweets of victory; yet, with all that clearness of mind, and freshness of intellect, and fluency of words that might have been possible to him, he did not invent a new sentence, but he went to the Book of Psalms, and took from the Holy Spirit this expression, “Into thy hands I commit my spirit.”
How instructive to us is this great truth that the Incarnate Word lived on the Inspired Word! It was food to him, as it is to us; and, brothers and sisters, if Christ thus lived upon the Word of God, should not you and I do the same? He, in some respects, did not need this Book as much as we do. The Spirit of God rested upon him without measure, yet he loved the Scripture, and he went to it, and studied it, and used its expressions continually. Oh, that you and I might get into the very heart of the Word of God, and get that Word into ourselves! As I have seen the silkworm eat into the leaf, and consume it, so ought we to do with the Word of the Lord; — not crawl over its surface, but eat right into it till we have taken it into our inmost parts. It is idle merely to let the eye glance over the words, or to recollect the poetical expressions, or the historic facts; but it is blessed to eat into the very soul of the Bible until, at. last, you come to talk in Scriptural language, and your very style is fashioned upon Scripture models, and, what is better still, your spirit is flavoured with the words of the Lord. I would quote John Bunyan as an instance of what I mean. Read anything of his, and you will see that it is almost like reading the Bible itself. He had studied our Authorized Version, which will never be bettered, as I judge, till Christ shall come; he had read it till his very soul was saturated with Scripture; and, though his writings are charmingly full of poetry, yet he cannot give us his Pilffrim’s Progress — that sweetest of all prose poems — without continually making us feel and say, “Why, this man is a living Bible!” Prick him anywhere; his blood is Bibline, the very essence of the Bible flows from him. He cannot speak without quoting a text, for his very soul is full of the Word of God. I commend his example to you, beloved, and, still more, the example of our Lord Jesus. If the Spirit of God be in you, he will make you love the Word of God; and, if any of you imagine that the Spirit of God will lead you to dispense with the Bible, you are under the influence of another spirit which ia not the Spirit of God at all. I trust that the Holy Spirit will endear to you every page of this Divine Record, so that you will feed upon it yourselves, and afterwards speak it out to others. I think it is well worthy of your constant remembrance that, even in death, our blessed Master showed the ruling passion of his spirit, so that his last words were a quotation from Scripture.
Now notice, secondly, that our Lord, in the moment of his deaths recognized a personal God: “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” God is to some men an unknown God. “There may be a God,” so they say, but they get no nearer the truth than that. “All things are God,” says another. “We cannot be sure that there is a God,” say others, “and therefore it is no use our pretending to believe in him, and so to be, possibly, influenced by a supposition.” Some people say, “Oh, certainly, there is a God, but he is very far off! He does not come near to us, and we cannot imagine that he will interfere in our affairs.” Ah! but our blessed Lord Jesus Christ believed in no such impersonal, pantheistic, dreamy, far-off God; but in One to whom he said, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” His language shows that he realized the personality of God as much as I should recognize the personality of a banker if I said to him, “Sir, I commit that money into your hands.” I know that I should not say such a thing as that to a mere dummy, or to an abstract something or nothing; but to a living man I should say it, and I should say it only to a living man. So, beloved, men do not commit their souls into the keeping of impalpable nothings; they do not, in death, smile as they resign themselves to the infinite unknown, the cloudy Father of everything, who may himself be nothing or everything. No, no; we only trust what we know; and BO Jesus knew the Father, and knew him to be a real Person having hands, into those hands he commended his departing spirit. I am not now speaking materially, mark you, as though God had hands like ours; but he is an actual Being, who has powers of action, who is able to deal with men as he pleases, and who is willing to take possession of their spirits, and to protect them for ever and ever. Jesus speaks like one who believed that; and I pray that, both in life and in death, you and I may ever deal with God in the same way. We have far too much fiction in religion, and a religion of fiction will bring only fictitious comfort in the dying hour. Come to solid facts, man. Is God as real to thee as thou art to thyself? Come now; dost thou speak with him “as a man speaketh unto his friend “? Canst thou trust him, and rely upon him as thou dost trust and rely upon the partner of thy bosom? If thy God be unreal, thy religion is unreal. If thy God be a dream, thy hope will be a dream; and woe be unto thee when thou shalt wake up out of it! It was not so that Jesus trusted. “Father,” said he, “into thy hands I commend my spirit.”
But, thirdly, here is a better point still. Observe how Jesus Christ here brings out the Fatherhood of God. The Psalm from which he quoted did not say, “Father.” David did not get as far as that in words, though in spirit he often did; but Jesus had the right to alter the Psalmist’s words. He can improve on Scripture, though you and I cannot. He did not say, “O God, into thine hand I commit my spirit; “but he said,” Father.” Oh, that sweet word! That was the gem of our thought, this morning, that Jesus said, “Wist ye not that I must be at my Father’s, — that I must be in my Father’s house? “Oh, yes! the Holy Child knew that he was specially, and in a peculiar sense, the Son of the Highest; and therefore he said,” My
Father;” and, in dying, his expiring heart was buoyed up and comforted with the thought that God was his Father. It was because he said that God was his Father that they put him to death, yet he still stood to it even in his dying hour, and said, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”
What a blessed thing it is for us also, my brethren, to die conscious that we are sons of God! Oh, how sweet, in life and in death, to feel in our soul the spirit of adoption whereby we cry, “Abba, Father” t In such a case as that, —
“It is not death to die.”
Quoting the Saviour’s words, “It is finished,” and relying upon his Father and our Father, we may go even into the jaws of death without the “quivering lips” of which we sang just now. Joyful, with all the strength we have, our lips may confidently sing, challenging death and the grave to silence our ever-rising and swelling music. O my Father, my Father, if I am in thy hands, I may die without fear!
There is another thought, however, which is perhaps the chief one of all. From this passage, we learn that our Divine Lord cheerfulli, rendered up his soul to his Father when the time Jiad come for him to die: “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” None of us can, with strict propriety, use these words. When we come to die, we may perhaps utter them, and God will accept them; these were the very death-words of Polycarp, and Bernard, and Luther, and Melancthon, and Jerome of Prague, and John Huss, and an almost endless list of saints: “Into thy hands I commit my spirit.” The Old Testament rendering of the passage, or else our Lord’s version of it, has been turned into a Latin prayer, and commonly used among Romanists almost as a charm; they have repeated the Latin words when dying, or, if they were unable to do so, the priest repeated the words for them, attaching a sort of magical power to that particular formula. But, in the sense in which our Saviour uttered these words, we cannot any of us fully use them. We can commit or commend our spirit to God; but yet, brethren, remember that, unless the Lord comes first, we must die; and dying is not an act on our part. We have to be passive in the process, because it is no longer in our power to retain our life. I suppose that, if a man could have such control of his life, it might be questionable when he should surrender it, because suicide is a crime, and no man can be required to kill himself. God does not demand such action as that at any man’s hand; and, in a certain sense, that is what would happen whenever a man yielded himself to death. But there was no necessity for our blessed Lord and Master to die except the necessity which he had taken upon himself in becoming the Substitute for his people. There was not any necessity for his death even at the last moment upon the cross, for, as I have reminded you, he cried with a loud voice when natural weakness would have compelled him to whisper or to sigh. But his life was strong within him; if he had willed to do sOy he could have unloosed the nails, and come down into the midst of the crowd that stood mocking him. He died of his own free will,” the
Just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.”. A man may righteously surrender his life for the good of his country, and for the safety of others. There have frequently been opportunities for men to do this, and there have been brave fellows who have worthily done it; but, then, all those men would have had to die at some time or other. They were only slightly anticipating the payment of the debt of nature; but, in our Lord’s case, he was rendering up to the Father the spirit which he might have kept if he had chosen to do so. “No man taketh it from me,” said he concerning his life; “I lay it down of myself;” and there is here a cheerful willingness to yield up his spirit into his Father’s hands. It is rather remarkable that none of the Evangelists describe our Lord as dying. He did die, but they all speak of him as giving up the ghost, — surrendering to God his spirit. You and I passively die; but he actively yielded up his spirit to his Father. In his case, death was an act; and he performed that act from the glorious motive of redeeming us from death and hell; so, in this sense, Christ stands alone in his death. But, oh, dear brothers and sisters, if we cannot render up our spirit as he did, yet, when our life is taken from us, let us be perfectly ready to give it up. May God bring us into such a state of mind and heart that there shall be no struggling to keep our life, but a sweet willingness to let it be just as God would have it, — a yielding up of everything to his hands, feeling sure that, in the world of spirits, our soul shall be quite safe in the Father’s hand, and that, until the resurrection day, the life-germ of the body will be securely in his keeping, and certain that, when the trumpet shall sound, spirit, soul, and body, — that trinity of our manhood, — shall be re-united in the absolute perfection of our being to behold the King in his beauty in the land that is very far oflF. When God calls us to die, it will be a sweet way of dying if we can, like our Lord, pass away with a text of Scripture upon our lips, with a personal God ready to receive us, with that God recognized distinctly as our Father, and so die joyously, resigning our will entirely to the sweet will of the ever-blessed One, and saying, “It is the Lord,” “my Father,” “let him do as seemeth him good.”
II. My second text is in the 31st Psalm, at the 5th verse; and it is evidently the passage which our Saviour had in his mind just then: “Into thine hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.” It seems to me that these are words TO BE USED IN LIFE, for this Psalm is not so much concerning the believer’s death as concerning his life.
Is it not very singular, dear friends, that the words which Jesus uttered on the cross you may still continue to use? You may catch up their echo, and not only when you come to die, but to-night, to-morrow morning, and as long as you are here, you may still repeat the text the Master quoted, and say, “Into thine hand I commit my spirit.”
That is to say, first, let us cheerfully entrust our souls to God, and feel that they are quite safe in his hands. Our spirit is the noblest part of our being; our body is only the husk, our spirit is the living kernel, so let us put it into God’s keeping. Some of you have never yet done that, so I invite you to do it now. It is the act of faith which saves the soul, that act which a man performs when he says, “I trust myself to God as he reveals himself in Christ Jesus; I cannot keep myself, but he can keep me; by the precious blood of Christ he can cleanse me; so I just take my spirit, and give it over intc the great Father’s hand.” You never really live till you do that; all that comes before that act of full surrender is death; but when you have once trusted Christ, then you have truly begun to live. And every day, as long as you live, take care that you repeat this process, and cheerfully leave yourselves in God’s hands without any reserve; that is to say, give yourself up to God, — your body, to be healthy or to be sick, to be long-lived or to be suddenly cut off; — your soul and spirit, give them also up to God, to be made happy or to be made sad, just as he pleases. Give your whole self up to him, and say to him, “My Father, make me rich or make me poor, give me eye-sight or make me blind, let me have all my senses or take them away, make me famous or leave me to be obscure; I just give myself up to thee; into thine hand I commit my spirit. I will no longer exercise my own choice, but thou shalt choose my inheritance for me. My times are in thy hands.”
Now, dear children of God, are you always doing this? Have you ever done it? I am afraid that there are some, even among Christ’s professing followers, who kick against God’s will; and even when they say to God, “Thy will be done,” they spoil it by adding, in their own mind, “and my will, too.” They pray, “Lord, make my will thy will,” instead of saying, “Make thy will my will.” Let us each one pray this prayer every day, “Into thine hand I commit my spirit.” I like, at family prayer, to put myself and all that I have into God’s hands in the morning, and then, at night, just to look between his hands, and see how safe I have been, and then to say to him, “Lord, shut me up again to-night; take care of me all through the night-watches. * Into thine hand I commit my spirit.’”
Notice, dear friends, that our second text has these words at the end of it: “Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.” Is not that a good reason for giving yourself up entirely to God? Christ has redeemed you, and therefore you belong to him. If I am a redeemed man, and I ask God to take care of me, I am but asking the King to take care of one of his own jewels, — a jewel that cost him the blood of his heart.
And I may still more specially expect that he will do so, because of the title which is here given to him: “Thou hast redeemed me, 0 Lord God of truth.” Would he be the God of truth if he began with redemption, and ended with destruction; — if he began by giving his Son to die for us, and then kept back other mercies which we daily need to bring us to heaven? No; the gift of his Son is the pledge that he will save his people from their sins, and bring them home to glory; and he will do it. So, every day, go to him with this declaration, “Into thine hand I commit my spirit.” Nay, not only every day, but all through the day. Does a horse run away with you? Then you cannot do better than say, “Father, into thine hand I commit my spirit.” And if the horse does not run awa-y with you, you cannot do better than say the same words. Have you to go into a house where there is fever; I mean, is it your duty to go there? Then go saying, “Father, into thine hand I commit my spirit.” I would advise you to do this every time you walk down the street, or even while you sit in your own house. Dr. Gill, my famous predecessor, spent very much time in his study; and, one day, somebody said to him, “Well, at any rate, the studious man is safe from most of the accidents of life.” It so happened that, one morning, when the good man left his familiar arm-chair for a little while, there came a gale of wind that blew down a stack of chimneys, which crashed through the roof, and fell right into the place where he would have been sitting if the providence of God had not just then drawn him away; and he said, “I see that we need divine providence to care for us in our studies just as much as in the streets.” “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.” I have often noticed that, if any of our friends get into accidents and troubles, it is usually when they are away for a holiday; it is a curious thing, but I have often remarked it. They go out for their health, and come home ill; they leave us with all their limbs whole, and return to us crippled; therefore, we must pray God to take special care of friends in the country or by the sea, and we must commit ourselves to his hands wherever we may be. If we had to go into a lazar-house, we should certainly ask God to protect us from the deadly leprosy; but we ought equally to seek the Lord’s protection while dwelling in the healthiest place or in our own homes.
David said to the Lord, “Into thine hand I commit my spirit; “but let me beg you to add that word which our Lord inserted,” Father.” David is often a good guide for us, but David’s Lord is far better; and if we follow him, we shall improve upon David. So, let us each say, “Father, Father, into thine hand I commit my spirit.” That is a sweet way of living every day, committing everything to our Heavenly Father’s hand, for that hand can do his child no unkindness. “Father, I might not be able to trust thine angels, but I can trust thee.” The psalmist does not say, “Into the hand of providence I commit my spirit.” Do you notice how men try to get rid of God by saying, “Providence did this,” and “Providence did that,” and “Providence did the other “? If you ask them, “What is providence?” — they will probably reply, “W-ell,
providence is providence.” That is all they can say. There is
many a man who talks very confidently about reverencing nature, obeying the laws of nature, noting the powers of nature, and so on. Step up to that eloquent lecturer, and say to him, “Will you kindly explain to me what nature is?” He answers, “Why, nature, — well, it is — nature.” Just so, sir; but, then, what is nature? And he says, “Well, — well, — it is nature;” and that is all you will get out of him. Now, I believe in nature, and I believe in providence; but, at the back of everything, I believe in God, and in the Ood who has hands; — not in an idol that has no hands, and can do nothing, — but in the God to whom I can say, “* Father, into thine hand I commit my spirit.’ I rejoice that I am able to put myself there, for I feel absolutely safe in trusting myself to thy keeping.”
THE LAST WORDS Oif CHRIST ON THE CROSS. 671
So live, beloved, and you shall live safely, and happily; and you shall have hope in your life, and hope in your death.
III. My third text will not detain us many minutes; it is intended to explain to us the use of our Saviour’s dying words for OURSELVES. Turn to the account of the death of Stephen, in the 7th chapter of Acts, at the 59th verse, and you will see there how” far a man of God may dare to go in his last moments in quoting from David and from the Lord Jesus Christ: “And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God, and saying, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” So here is a text for us to use when we come to die: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” I have explained to you that, strictly, we can hardly talk of yielding up our spirit, but we may speak of Christ receiving it, and say, with Stephen, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”
What does this prayer mean? I must just hurriedly give you two or three thoughts concerning it, and so close my discourse. I think this prayer means that, if we can die as Stephen did, we shall die with a certainty of immortality. Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” He did not say, “I am afraid my poor spirit is going to die.” No; the spirit is something which still exists after death, something which Christ can receive, and therefore Stephen asks him to receive it. You and I are not going upstairs to die as if we were only like cats and dogs; we go up there to die like immortal beings who fall asleep on earth, and open our eyes in heaven. Then, at the sound of the archangel’s trumpet, our very body is to rise to dwell again with our spirit; we have not any question about this matter. I think I have told you what an infidel once said to a Christian man, “Some of you Christians have great fear in dying because you believe that there is another state to follow this one. I have not the slightest fear, for I believe that I shall be annihilated, and therefore all fear of death is gone from me.” “Yes,” said the Christian man, “and in that respect you seem to me to be on equal terms with that bullock grazing over there, which, like yourseK, is free from any fear of death. Pray, sir, let me ask you a simple question. Have you any hope?” “Hope, sir? Hope, sir? No, I have no hope; of course, I have no hope, sir.” “Ah, then!” replied the other, “despite the fears that sometimes come over feeble believers, they have a hope which they would not and could not give up.” And that hope is, that our spirit — even that spirit which we commit into Jesus Christ’s hands, — shall be “for ever with the Lord.”
The next thought is that, to a man who can die as Stephen did, there is a certainty that Christ is near, — so near that the man speaks to him, and says, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” In Stephen’s case, the Lord Jesus was so near that the martyr could see him, for he said, “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.” Many dying saints have borne a similar testimony; it is no strange thing for us to hear them say, before they died, that they could see within the pearly gates; and they have told us this with such evident truthfulness, and with such rapture, or sometimes so calmly, in such a businesslike tone of voice, that we were sure that they were neither deceived nor speaking falsehood. They spake what they knew to be true, for Jesus was
672. MBTROPOLlTAJf TABEHNACLE PULPIT.
there with them. Yes, beloved, before you can call your children about your death-bed, Jesus will be there already, and into his hands you may commit your spirit.
Moreover, there is a certainty that we are quite safe in his Iiunds. Wherever else we are insecure, if we ask him to receive our spirit, and he receives it, who can hurt us? Who can pluck us out of his hands? Rouse ye, death and hell! Come forth, all ye powers of darkness! What can you do when once a spirit is in the hands of, the omnipotent Redeemer? We must be safe there.
Then there is the other certainty, that he is quite willing to take us into his hands. Let us put ourselves into his hands now; and then we need not be ashamed to repeat the operation every day, and we may be sure that we shall not be rejected at the last. I have often told you of the good old woman, who was dying, and to whom someone said, “Are you not afraid to die?” “Oh, no;” she replied, “there is nothing at all to fear. I have dipped my foot in the river of death every morning before I have had my breakfast, and I am not afraid to die now.” You remerciber that dear saint, who died in the night, and who had left written on a piece of paper by her bedside these lines which, ere she fell asleep, she felt strong enough to pencil down, —
“Since Jesus is mine, I’ll not fear undressing,
But gladly put off these garments of clay;
To die in the Lord, is a covenant blepsing,
Since Jesus to glory thro’ death led the way.”
It was well that she could say it, and may we be able to say the same whenever the Master calls us to go up higher! I want, dear friends, that we should all of us have as much willingness to depart as if it were a matter of will with us. Blessed be God, it is not left to our choice, it is not left to our will, when we shall die. God has appointed that day, and ten thousand devils cannot consign us to the grave before our time. We shall not die till God decrees it.
“Plagues and deaths around me fly,
Till he please I cannot die;
Not a single shaft can hit
Till the God of love sees fit.”
But let us be just as willing to depart as if it were really a matter of choice; for, wisely, carefully, coolly, consider that, if it were left to us, we should none of us be wise if we did not choose to go. Apart from the coming of our Lord, the most miserable thing that I know of would be a suspicion that we might not die. Do you know what quaint old Rowland Hill used to say when he found himself getting very old? He said, “Surely they must be forgetting me up there;” and every now and then, when some dear old saint was dying, he would say, “When you get to heaven, give my love to John Berridge, and John Bunyan, and ever so many more of the good Johns, and tell them I hope they will see poor old Rowly up there before long.” Well, there was common sense in that wishing to get home, longing to be with God. To be with Christ, is far better than to be here.
,. BXPOSITIOM”, .-.. (^73
Sobriety itself would make us choose to die; well, then, do not let qis run back, and become utterly unwilling, and struggle and strive and fret and fume over it. When I hear of believers who do not like to talk about death, I am afraid concerning them. It is greatly wise to be familiar with our resting-place. When I went, recently, to the cemetery at Norwood, to lay the body of our dear brother Perkins there for a little while, I felt that it was a healthy thing for me to fand at the grave’s brink, and to walk amid that forest of memorials of the dead, for this is where I, too, must go. Ye living men, come and view the ground where you must shortly lie; and, as it must be so, let us who are believers welcome it.
But what if you are not believers? Ah! that is another matter altogether. If you have not beHeved in Christ, you may well be afraid even to rest on the seat where you are sitting. I wonder that the earth itself does not say, “O God, I will not hold this wretched sinner up any longer! Let me open my mouth, and swallow him!” All nature must hate the man who hates God. Surely, all things must loathe to minister to the life of a man who does not live unto <^od. Oh that you would seek the Lord, and trust Christ, and find eternal hf e! If you have done so, do not be afraid to go forth to live, or to die, just as God pleases.
lExpositton h €. 3g. ^purQeoiu
JOHN XV. 1 — 8.
Verse 1. I am the true vine, —
Now we know where to find the true Church. It is to be found only in €hrist and in those who are joined to him in mystical but real union: “] am the true vine,” —
1. And my Father is the husbandman.
Now we know who is the true Guardian of the Church. Not the so-called *’ holy father at Rome, but that Father above, who is the true Guardian, Ruler, Keeper, Preserver, Purifier, Husbandman of the one Church, the vine.
2. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he talceth aimy:
There are many such branches, in Christ’s visible Church, which are not fruit-bearing branches, and consequently are not partakers of the sap of life and grace which flows into the branches that are vitally joined to the central stem. These fruitless branches are to be taken away.
2. And every branch that beareth fruit, he puryeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.
There is some work, then, for the knife upon all the branches; cutting off for those that are fruitless, cutting for those that are bearing some fruit, that they may bring forth yet more.
3. Now ye are clean [purged through the word which I have spoken unto you.
The Word is often the knife with which the great Husbandman prunes “the vine; and, brothers and sisters, if we were more willing to feel the edge of the Word, and to let it cut away even something that may be very dear to us, we should not need so much pruning by affliction. It is because that first knife does not always produce the desired result that another sharp tool is used by which we are effectually pruned.
4. Abide in me and I in you.
“Do not merely find a temporary shelter in me, as a ship runs into harbour in stormy weather, and then comes out again when the gale is over; but cast anchor in me, as the vessel does when it reaches its desired haven. Be not as branches that are tied on, and so can be taken off, but be livingly joined to me. * Abide in me.’”
4. Ab the branch cannot bear fruit of itself t except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me.
You must bear fruit, or else be cast away; but you cannot bear any fruit except by real union and constant communion with Jesus Christ your Lord
6. / am the vine, ye are the branches: he that abidtth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.
Not merely will you do very little, but you can do nothing at all if you are severed from Christ. You are absolutely and entirely dependent upon Christ both for your life and for your fruit-bearing. Do we not wish to have it so, beloved? It is the incipient principle of apostasy when a man wishes to be independent of Christ in any degree, when he says, “Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me, that I may have something in hand, some spending money of my own.” No; you must, from day to day, from hour to hour, and even from moment to moment, derive life, light, love, everything that is good, from Christ. What a blessing that it is so!
6. If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is loithered; and Tnen gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.
There is a sad future in store for tares, according to another parable; but, somehow, there is a much sadder lot reserved for those that were, in some sense, branches of the vine, — those who made a profession of faith in Christ, though they were never vitally united to him; those who for a while did run well, yet were hindered. What was it that hindered them that they should not obey the truth? Oh, it is sad indeed that any should have had any sort of connection with that divine stem, and yet should be cast into the fire!
7. If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.
Do not think that all men can pray alike effectually, for it is not so. There are some whom God will hear, and some whom God will not hear. And there are some even of his own children, whom he will hear in things absolutely vital and essential, to whom he never gave carte blanche after thi” fashion: “Ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.” Nt if you will not hear God’s words, he will not hear yours; and if his words do not abide in you, your words shall not have power with him. They may be directed to heaven, but the Lord will not listen to them so as to have regard unto them. Oh, it needs very tender walking for one who would be mighty in prayer! You shall find that those who have had their will at the throne of grace are men who have done God’s will in other places; it must be so. The greatest favourite at court will have a double portion of the jealousy of his monarch, and he must be specially careful that he orders his steps aright, or else the king will not continue to favour him as he was wont to do. There is a sacred discipline in Christ’s house, a part of which consists in this, that, as our obedience to our God declines, so will our power in prayer decrease at the same time.
8. Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit, so shall ye be my disciples.
If we are his true disciples, we also shall bring forth much fruit.
Beliyered on Lord’s-day Morning, March 25th, 1888, by
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
V I* ‘^^fl{ ^^®-? ^? gain With a loud voice, yielded up the ehost An<T
“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the hoUest by the blood of Jesus
The death of our Lord Jesus Christ was fitly surrounded by miraclesyet It IS Itself so much greater a wonder than all besides, that it as far exceeds them as the sun outshines the planets which surround it It seems natural enough that the earth should quake, that tombs should be opened, and that the veil of the temple should be rent, when he who only hath immortality gives up the ghost. The more you think of the death of the Son of God, the more will you be amazed at it. As much as a miracle excels a common fact, so doth this wonder of wonders rise above all miracles of power. That the divine Lord, even though veiled in mortal flesh, should condescend to be subject to the-power of death, so as to bow his head on the cross, and submit to be laid in the tomb, is among mysteries the greatest. The death of Jesus IS the marvel of time and eternity, which, as Aaron’s rod swallowed up all the rest, takes up into itself all lesser marvels.
Yet the rending of the veil of the temple is not a miracle to be lightly passed over. It was made of “fine twined linen, with cherubims of cunning work.” This gives the idea of a substantial fabric, a piece of lastmg tapestry, which would have endured the severest strain. No human hands could have torn that sacred covering; and it could not have been divided in the midst by any accidental cause; yet, strange to say, on the instant when the holy person of Jesus was rent by death, the great veil which concealed the holiest of all was “rent in twain from the top to the bottom.” What did it mean? It meant much more than I can tell you now.
It is not fanciful to regard it as a solemn act of mourning on
the part of the house of the Lord. In the East men express their
sorrow by rending their garments; and the temple, when it beheld its
Master die, seemed struck with horror, and rent its veil. Shocked at the sin of man, indignant at the murder of its Lord, in its sympathy with him who is the true temple of God, the outward symbol tore its holy vestment from the top to the bottom. Did not the miracle also mean that from that hour the whole system of types, and shadows, and ceremonies had come to an end? The ordinances of an earthly priesthood were rent with. that veil. In token of the death of the ceremonial law, the soul of it quitted its sacred shrine, and left its bodily tabernacle as a dead thing. The legal dispensation is over. The rent of the veil seemed to say — “Henceforth God dwells no longer in the thick darkness of the Holy of Holies, and shines forth no longer from between the cherubim. The special enclosure is broken up, and there is no inner sanctuary for the earthly high priest to enter: typical atonements and sacrifices are at an end.”
According to the explanation given in our second text, the rending of the veil chiefly meant that the way into the holiest, which was not before made manifest, was now laid open to all believers. Once in the year the high priest solemnly lifted a corner of this veil with fear and trembling, and with blood and holy incense he passed into the immediate presence of Jehovah; but the tearing of the veil laid open the secret place. The rent from top to bottom gives ample space for all to enter who are called of God’s grace, to approach the throne, and to commune with the Eternal One. Upon that subject I shall try to speak this morning, praying in my inmost soul that you and I, with all other believers, may have boldness actually to enter into that which is within the veil at this time of our assembhng for worship. Oh, that the Spirit of God would lead us into the nearest fellowship which mortal men can have with the Infinite Jehovah!
First, this morning, I shall ask you to consider what has been done. The veil has been rent. Secondly, we will remember what we therefore have: we have “boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus.” Then, thirdly, we will consider how we exercise this grace: we “enter by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh.”
I. First, think of what has been done. In actual historical fact the glorious veil of the temple has been rent in twain from the top to the bottom: as a matter of spiritual fact, which is far more important to us, the separating legal ordinance is abolished. There was under the law this ordinance — that no man should ever go into the holiest of all; with the one exception of the high priest, and he but once in the year, and not without blood. If any man had attempted to enter there he must have died, as guilty of great presumption and of profane mtrusion into the secret place of the Most High. Who could stand m the presence of him who is a consuming fire? This ordinance of distance runs all through the law; for even the holy place, which was the vestibule of the Holy of Holies, was for the priests alone. The place of the people was one of distance. At the very first institution of the law when God descended upon Sinai, the ordinance was, “Thou shalt set bounds unto the people round about.” There was no invitation to draw near. Not that they desired to do so, for the mountain was altogether on a smoke, and “even Moses said, I exceedingly fear and quake.” “The Lord said unto Moses. Go down, charge the people, lest they break through unto the Lord to gaze, and many of them perish.” If so much as a beast touch the mountain it must be stoned, or thrust through with a dart. The spirit of the old law was reverent distance. Moses, and here and there a man chosen by God, might come near to Jehovah; but as for the bulk of the people, the command was, “Draw not nigh hither.” When the Lord revealed his glory at the giving of the law, we read, — “When the people saw it, they removed, and stood afar off.” All this is ended. The precept to keep back is abrogated, and the invitation is, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden.” ‘’Let us draw near” is now the filial spirit of the gospel. How thankful I am for this! what a joy it is to my soul! Some of God’s people have not yet realized this gracious fact, for still they worship afar oif. Yery much of prayer is to be highly commended for its reverence; but it has in it a lack of childlike confidence. I can admire the solemn and stately language of worship which recognizes the greatness of God; but it will not warm my heart nor express my soul until it has also blended therewith the joyful nearness of that perfect love which casteth out fear, and ventures to speak with our Father in heaven as a child speaketh with its father on earth. My brother, no veil remains. Why dost thou stand afar off, and tremble like a slave? Draw near with full assurance of faith. The veil is rent: access is free. Come boldly to the throne of grace. Jesus has made thee nigh, as nigh to God as even he himself is. Though we speak of the holiest of all, even the secret place of the Most High, yet it is of this place of awe, even of this sanctuary of Jehovah, that the veil is rent; therefore, let nothing hinder thine entrance. Assuredly no law forbids thee; but infinite love invites thee to draw nigh to God.
This rending of the veil signified, also, the removal of the seimrating sin. Sin is, after all, the great divider between God and man. That veil of blue and purple and fine twined linen could not really separate man from God: for he is, as to his omnipresence, not far from any one of us. Sin is a far more effectual wall of separation: it opens an abyss between the sinner and his Judge. Sin shuts out prayer, and praise, and every form of religious exercise. Sin makes God walk contrary to us, because we walk contrary to him. Sin, by separating the soul from God, causes spiritual death, which is both the effect and the penalty of transgression. How can two walk together except they be agreed? How can a holy God have fellowship with unholy creatures? Shall justice dwell with injustice? Shall perfect purity abide with the abominations of evil? No, it cannot be. Our Lord Jesus Christ put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. He taketh away the sin of the world, and so the veil is rent. By the shedding of his most precious blood we are cleansed from all sin, and that most gracious promise of the new covenant is fulfilled — “Their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.” When sin is gone, the barrier is broken down, the unfathomable gulf is filled. Pardon, which removes sin, and justification, which brings righteousness, make up a deed of clearance so real and so complete that nothing now dividea the sinner from his reconciled God. The Judge is now the Father: he, who once must necessarily have condemned, is found justly absolving and accepting. In this double sense the veil is rent; the separating ordinance is abrogated, and the separating sin is forgiven.
Next, be it remembered that the separating sinfulness is also taken away through our Lord Jesus. It is not only what we have done, but what we are that keeps us apart from God. We have sin engrained m “US: even those who have grace dweUinj; in them have to complain,” When I would do good, evil is present with me.” How can we commune with God with our eyes bHnded, our ears stopped, our hearts hardened, and our senses deadened by sin? Our whole natiure is tainted, poisoned, perverted by evil; how can we know the Lord? Beloved, through the death of our Lord Jesus the covenant of grace 10 established with us, and its gracious provisions are on this wise: This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, eaith the Lord; I will put my laws into their mind, and write them in their hearts.” When this is the case, when the will of God is inscribed on the heart, and the nature is entirely changed, then is the dividing veil which hides us from God taken away: “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.” Blessed are all they that love righteousness and follow after it, for they are in a way in which the Kighteous One can walk in fellowship with them. Spirits that are like God are not divided from God. Difference of nature hangs up a veil; but the new birth, and the sanctification which follows upon it, through the precious death of Jesus, remove that veil. He that hates sin, strives after holiness, and labours to perfect it in the fear of God, is in f eUowship with God. It is a blessed thing when we love what God loves, when we seek what God seeks, when we are in sympathy with divine aims, and are obedient to divine commands: for with such persons will the Lord dwell. When grace makes us partakers of the divine natui-e, then are we at one with the Lord, and the veil is taken away.
“Yes,” saith one, “I see now how the veil is taken away m three different fashions; but still God is God, and we are but poor puny men: between God and man there must of necessity be a separating veil, caused by the great disparity between the Creator and the creature. How can the finite and the infinite commune? God is all in all, and more than all; we are nothing, and less than nothing; how can we meet?” When the Lord does come near to his favoured ones, they own how incapable they are of enduring the excessive glory. Even the beloved John said, “When I saw him, I feU at his feet as dead.” When we have been specially conscious of the presence and working of our Lord, we have felt our flesh creep, and our blood chill; and then have we understood what Jacob meant when he said, “How dreadful is this place I this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” All this is true; for the Lord saith, “Thou canst not see my face and live.” Although this is a much thinner veil than those I have already mentioned, yet it is a veil; and it is hard for man to be at home with God. But the Lord Jesus bridges the separating distance. Behold, the blessed Son of God has come into the world, and taken upon himself our nature! “Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same.” Though he is God as God is God, yet is he as surely man as man is man. Mark well hov7 in the person of the Lord Jesus we see God and man in the closest conceivable alliance; for they are united in one person for ever. The gulf is completely filled by the fact that Jesus has gone through with lis even to the bitter end, to death, even to the death of the cross. He has followed out the career of manhood even to the tomb; and thus we see that the veil, which hung between the nature of God and the nature of man, is rent in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ. We enter into the holiest of all through his flesh, which links manhood to Godhead.
Now, you see what it is to have the veil taken away. Solemnly note that this avails only for believers: those who refuse Jesus refuse the only way of access to God. God is not approachable, except through the rending of the veil by the death of Jesus. There was one typical way to the mercy-seat of old, and that was through the turning aside of the veil; there was no other. And there is now no other way for any of you to come into fellowship with God, except through the rent veil, even the death of Jesus Christ, whom God has set forth to be the propitiation for sin. Come this way, and you may come freely. Refuse to come this way, and there hangs between you and God an impassable veil. Without Christ you are without God, and without hope. Jesus himself assures you, “If ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins.” God grant that this may not happen to any of you!
For believers the veil is not rolled up, but rent. The veil was not unhooked, and carefully folded up, and put away, so that it might be put in its place at some future time. Oh, no! but the divine hand took it and rent it from top to bottom. It can never be hung up again; that is impossible. Between those who are in Christ Jesus and the great God, there will never be another separation. ^’ Who shall separate us from the love of God?” Only one veil was made, and as that is rent, the one and only separator is destroyed. I delight to think of this. The devil himself can never divide me from God now. He may and will attempt to shut me out from God; but the worst he could do would be to hang up a rent veil. What would that avail but to exhibit his impotence? God has rent the veil, and the devil cannot mend it. There is access between a believer and his Ood; and there must be such free access for ever, since the veil is not ToUed up, and put on one side to be hung up again in days to come; but it is rent, and rendered useless.
The rent is not in one corner, but in the midst, as Luke tells us. It is not a slight rent through which we may see a little; but it is rent from the top to the bottom. There is an entrance made for the greatest sinners. If there had only been a small hole cut through it, the lesser offenders might have crept through; but what an act of abounding mercy is this, that the veil is rent in the midst, and rent from top to bottom, so that the chief of sinners may find ample passage! This also shows that for believers there is no hindrance to the fullest and freest access to God. Oh, for much boldness, thia morning, to come where God has not only set open the door, but has lifted the door from its. hinges; yea, removed it, post, and bar, and all 1
I want you to notice that this veil, when it was rent, was rent by God, not by man. It was not the act of an irreverent mob; it was not the midnight outrage of a set of profane priests: it was the act of God alone. Nobody stood within the veil; and on the outer side of it stood the priests only fulfilling their ordinary vocation of offering sacrifice. It must have astounded them when they saw that holy place laid bare in a moment. How they fled, as they saw that massive veil divided without human hand in a second of time! Who rent it? Who but God himself? If another had done it, there might have been a. mistake about it, and the mistake might need to be remedied by replacing the curtain; but if the Lord has done it, it is done rightly, it is done finally, it is done irreversibly. It is God himself who has laid sin on Christ, and in Christ has put that sin away. God himself has opened the gate of heaven to believers, and cast up a highway along which the souls of men may travel to himself. God himself has set the ladder between earth and heaven. Come to him now, ye humble ones. Behold, he sets before you an open door!
II. And now I ask you to follow me, dear friends, in the second place, to an experimental realization of my subject. We now notice WHAT WE HAVE: “Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into* the holiest.” Observe the threefold “having” in the paragraph now before us, and be not content without the whole three. JFe have- boldness to enter in.’’^ There are degrees in boldness; but this is one of the highest. When the veil was rent it required some boldness to look within. I wonder whether the priests at the altar did have th& courage to gaze upon the mercy-seat. I suspect that they were sostruck with amazement that they fled from the altar, fearing sudden death. It requires a measure of boldness steadily to look upon the mystery of God: “Which things the angels desire to look into.” It is well not to look with a merely curious eye into the deep things of God. I question whether any man is able to pry into the mystery of the Trinity without great risk. Some, thinking to look there with the eyes of their natural intellect, have been blinded by the light of that sun, and have henceforth wandered in darkness. It needsboldness to look into the splendours of redeeming and electing love. If any did look into the holiest when the veil was rent, they wereamong the boldest of men; for others must have feared lest the fate of the men of Bethshemesh would be theirs. Beloved, the Holy Spirit invites you to look into the holy place, and view it all with reverent eye ;. for it is full of teaching to you. Understand the mystery of the mercy-seat, and of the ark of the covenant overlaid with gold, and of the pot of manna, and of the tables of stone, and of Aaron’s rod that budded. Look, look boldly through Jesus Christ: but do not content yourself with looking! Hear what the text says: “Having boldness to enter in.” Blessed be God if he has taught us this sweet way of no longer looking from afar, but of entering into the inmost shrine with confidence! “Boldness to enter in” is what we ought to have.
Let us follow the example of the high priest, and, having entered, lei us perform the functions of one who enters in.” Boldness to enter in suggests that we act as men who are in their proper places. To Btand within the veil filled the servant of God with an overpowering
. THE RENT VEIL. 68i’
tense of the divine presence. If ever in hig life he was near to God lie was certainly near to God then, when quite alone, shut in, an(l excluded from all the world, he had no one with him, except th» glorious Jehovah. 0 my beloved, may we this morning enter into theholiest in this sense! Shut out from the world, both wicked and Christian, let us know that the Lord is here, most near and manifest. Oh that we may now cry out with Hagar, “Have I also here looked after him that seeth me?” Oh, how sweet to realize by personal enjoyment the presence of Jehovah! How cheering to feel that the Lord of hosts is with us! We know our God to be a very present help in trouble. It is one of the greatest joys out of heaven to be able to sing — Jehovah. Shammah — the Lord is here. At first we tremble in the divinepresence; but as we feel more of the spirit of adoption we draw near with sacred delight, and feel so fully at home with our God that we sing with Moses, “Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.” Do not live as if God were as far off from you as the east is from the west. Live not far below on the earth; but live on high, as if you were in heaven. In heaven you will be with God; but on earth he will be with you: is there much difference? He hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in. Christ Jesus. Jesus hath made us nigh by his precious blood. Try dsij by day to live in as great nearness to God, as the high priest felfc when he stood for a while within the secret of Jehovah’s tabernacle.
The high priest had a sense of commu7iion with God; he was not only near, but he spake with God. I cannot tell what he said, but IT should think that on the special day the high priest unburdened himself of the load of Israel’s sin and sorrow, and made known hisrequests unto the Lord. Aaron, standing there alone, must have been filled with memories of his own faultiness, and of the idolatries and backslidings of the people. God shone upon him, and he bowed before God. He may have heard things which it was not lawful for him to utter, and other things which he could not have uttered if they had been lawful. Beloved, do you know what it is to commune with God? Words are poor vehicles for this fellowship; but what a blessed thing it is! Proofs of the existence of God are altogether superfluous to those of us who are in the habit of conversing with the Eternal One. If anybody were to write an essay to prove the existence of my wife, or my son, I certainly should not read it, except for the amusement of the thing; and proofs of the existence of God to the man who communes with God are much the same. Many of you walk with Godt what bliss! Fellowship with the Most High is elevating, purifying, strengthening. Enter into it boldly. Enter into his revealed thoughts, even as he graciously enters into yours: rise to his plans, as he condescends to yours; ask to be uplifted to him, even as he deigns to dwell with you.
This is what the rent of the veil brings us when we have boldness to enter in; but, mark you, the rent veil brings us nothing until we have boldness to enter in. Why stand we without? Jesus brings us near, and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son. Jesus Christ. Let us not be slow to take up our freedom, and come boldly to the throne. The high priest entered within the veil of blue>.
^82 METEOPOLITAN TAUERNACLE PULPIT
and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, with blood, and with incense, that he might ray /or Israel; and there he stood before the Most, High, pleading with him to bless the people. 0 beloved, prayer is a divine institution, and it belongs to us. But there are many sorts of prayers. There is the prayer of one who seems shut out from God’s holy temple; there is the prayer of another who stands in the court of the Q-entiles afar ofE, looking towards the Temple; there is the prayer of one who gets where Israel stands and pleads with the Ood of the chosen; there is the prayer in the court of the priests, when the sanctified man of God makes intercession; but the best prayer of all is offered in the holiest of all. There is no fear about prayer being heard when it is offered in the holiest. The veiy position of the man proves that he is accepted with God. He is fitanding on the surest ground of acceptance, and he is so near to God that his every desire is heard. There the man is seen through and through; for he is very near to God. His thoughts are read, his tears are seen, his sighs are heard; for he has boldness to enter in. He may ask what he will, and it shall be done unto him. As the altar sanctifieth the gift, so the most holy place, entered by the blood of Jesus, secures a certain answer to the, prayer that is offered therein. God give us such power in prayer! It is a wonderful thing that the Lord should hearken to the voice of a man; yet are there 8uch men. Luther came out of his closet, and cried, Vict — *’Ihave conquered.’* He had not yet met his adversaries; but as he had prevailed with God for men, he felt that he should prevail with men for Ood.
But the high priest, if you recollect, after he had communed and prayed with God, came out and blessed the people. He put on his garments of glory and beauty, which he had laid aside when he went into the holy place, for there he stood in simple white, and nothing olse; and now he came out wearing the breast-plate and all his precious ornaments, and he blessed the people. That is what you will do if you have the boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus: you will bless the people that surround you. The Lord has blessed you, and he will make you a blessing. Your ordinary conduct and oonversation will be a blessed example; the words you speak for Jesus will be like a dew from the Lord: the sick will be comforted by your words; the despondent will be encouraged by your faith; the lukewarm will be recovered by your love. You will be, practically, saying to each one who knows you, “The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make his face shine upon thee, and give thee peace.” You -will become a channel of blessing: “Out of your belly shall flow livers of living water.” May we each one have boldness to enter in, that we may come forth laden with benedictions !.
If you will kindly look at the text, you will notice, what I shall merely hint at, that this boldness is well grounded. I always like to see the apostle using a “■ therefore “: “Having therefore boldness.” Paul is often a true poet, but he is always a correct logician; he is as logical as if he were dealing with mathematics rather than theology. Here he writes one of his therefores.
Why is it that we have boldness? Is it not because of our
THE RENT VEIL. OOa
rdlationsliip to Christ which makes us “brethren “? “Having therefore, brethren, boldness.” The feeblest believer has as much right to enter into the holy place as Paul had; because he is one of the brotherhood. I remember a rhyme by John Eyland, in which he says of heaven —
“They all shall be there, the great and the small;
Poor I shall shake hands with the blessed St. Paul.”
I have no doubt we shall have such a position, and such fellowship. Meanwhile, we do shake hands with him this morning as he calls us brethren. We are brethren to one another, because we are brethren to Jesus. Where we see the apostle go, we will go; yea, rather, where we see the Great Apostle and High Priest of our profession enter, we will follow. “Having, therefore, boldness.”
Beloved, we have now no fear of death in the most holy place. The high priest, whoever he might be, must always have dreaded that solemn day of atonement, when he had to pass into the silent and secluded place. I cannot tell whether it is true, but I have read that there is a tradition among the Jews, that a rope was fastened to the high priest’s foot that they might draw out his corpse in case he died before the Lord. I should not wonder if their superstition devised such a thing, for it is an awful position for a man to enter into the secret dwelling of Jehovah. But we cannot die in the holy place now, since Jesus has died for us. The death of Jesus is the guarantee of the eternal life of all for whom he died. We have boldness to enter, for we shall not perish.
Our boldness arises from the perfection of his sacrifice. Read the fourteenth verse: “He hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified.” We rely upon the sacrifice of Christ, believing that he was such a perfect substitute for us, that it is not possible for us to die after our substitute has died; and we must be accepted, because he is accepted. We believe that the precious blood has so effectually and eternally put away sin from us, that we are no longer obnoxious to the wrath of God. We may safely stand where sin must be smitten, if there be any sin upon us; for we are so washed, so cleansed, and so fully justified that we are accepted in the Beloved. Sin is so completely lifted from us by the vicarious sacrifice of Christ, that we have boldness to enter where Jehovah himself dwells.
Moreover, we have this for certain, that as a priest had a right to dwell near to God, we have that privilege; for Jesus hath made us kings and priests unto God, and all the privileges of the office come to us with the office itself, AVe have a mission within the holy place; we are called to enter there upon holy business, and so we have no fear of being intruders. A burglar may enter a house, but he does not enter with boldness; he is always afraid lest he should be surprised. You might enter a stranger’s house, without an invitation, but you would feel no boldness there. We do not enter the holiest as housebreakers, nor as strangers; we come in obedience to a call, to fulfil our office. When once we accept the sacrifice of Christ, we are at home with God. Where should a child be bold bui: in his father’s house? Where should a priest stand but in the temple of his God, for whose service lie is set apart? Where should a blood- washed sinner lire hut with his God, to whom he is reconciled?
It is a heavenly joy to feel this boldness! We hare now such a love for God, and such a delight in him, that it never crosses our minds that we are trespassers when we draw near to him. We never Bay, “God, my dread,” but “God, my exceeding joy.” His name is the music to which our lives are set: though God be a consuming fire we love him as such, for he will only consume our dross, and that we desire to lose. Under no aspect is God now distasteful to us. We delight in him, be he what he may. So you see, beloved, we have good grounds for boldness when we enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus.
I cannot leave this point until I have reminded you that tee may have this boldness of entering in at all times, because the veil is alwaysrent, and is never restored to its old place. ‘* The Lord said untO’ Moses, Speak unto Aaron thy brother, that he come not at all times into the holy place within the veil before the mercy-seat, which iaupon the ark; that he die not;” but the Lord saith not so to us. Dear child of God, you may at all times have “boldness to enter in.’*” The veil is rent both day and night. Yea, let me say it, even when thine eye of faith is dim, still enter in; when evidences are dark, Btill have ‘’boldness to enter in”; and even if thou hast unhappily sinned, remember that access is open to thy penitent prayer. Come still through the rent veil, sinner as thou art. What though thou hast backslidden, what though thou art grieved with the sense of thy wanderings, come even now! “To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts,” but enter at once; for the veil is not there to exclude thee, though doubt and unbelief may make you think it is so. The veil cannot be there, for it was rent in twain from the top to the bottom.
III. My time has fled, and I shall not have space to speak as I meant to do upon the last point — how we exercise this grace. Let me give you the notes of what I would have said.
Let us at this nour enter into the holiest. Behold the way! We come bi, the way of atonement: “Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus.” I have been made to feel really ill through the fierce and blasphemous words that have been used of late by gentlemen of the modern school concerning the precious blood. I will not defile my lips by a repetition of the thrice-accursed things which they have dared to utter while trampling on the blood of Jesus. Everywhere throughout this divine Book you meet with the precious blood. How can he call himself a Christian who speaks in flippant and profane language of the blood of atonement? My brothers, there is no way into the holiest, even though the veil be rent, without blood. You might suppose that the high priest of old brought the blood because the veil was there; but you have to bring it with you though the veil is gone. The way is open, and you have boldntss to enter; but not without the blood of Jesus. It would be an unholy boldness which would think of drawing near to God without the blood of the great Sacrifice. We have always to plead the atonement. As without shedding of blood there is no remission of sin, so without that blood there is no access to God.
Next, the way by wMch we come is an unfailing way. Please notice that word — “by a new way “; this means by a way which is always fresh. The original Greek suggests the idea of “newly slain.” Jesus died long ago, but his death is the same now as at the moment of its ocjcurrence. We come to God, dear friends, by a way which is always effectual with God. It never, never loses one whit of its power and freshness.
“Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power.”
The way is not worn away by long traffic: it is always new. If Jesus Christ had died yesterday, would you not feel that you could plead his merit to-day? Very well, you can plead that merit after these nineteen centuries with as much confidence as at the first hour. The way to God is always newly laid. In e:ffect, the wounds of Jesus incessantly bleed our expiation. The cross is as glorious as though he were still upon it. So far as the freshness, vigour, and force of the atoning death is concerned, we come by a new way. Let it be always new to our hearts. Let the doctrine of atonement never grow stale, but let it have dew upon it for our souls.
Then the apostle adds, it is a ‘’’’living way A wonderful word! The way by which the high priest went into the holy place was of course a material way, and so a dead way. We come by a spiritual way, suitable to our spirits. The way could not help the high priest, but our way helps us abundantly. Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life When we come to God by this way, the way itself leads, guides, bears, brings us near. This way givcd us life with which to come.
It is a dedicated way: “which he hath consecrated for us.” When a new road is opened, it is set apart and dedicated for the public use. Sometimes a public building is opened by a king or a prince, and so is dedicated to its purpose. Beloved, the way to God through Jesus Ohrist is dedicated by Christ, and ordained by Christ for the use of poor believing sinners, such as we are. He has consecrated the way towards God, and dedicated it for us, that we may freely use it. Surely, if there is a road set apart for me, I may use it without fear; and the way to God and heaven through Jesus Christ is dedicated by the Saviour for sinners; it is the King’s highway for wayfaring men, who are bound for the City of God; therefore, let ns use it. “Consecrated for us “! Blessed word!
Lastly, it is «. Christly way; for when we come to God, we still come through his flesh. There is no coming to Jehovah, except by the incarnate God. God in human flesh is our way to God; the substitutionary death of the Word made flesh is also the way to the Father. There is no coming to God, except by representation. Jesus represents us before God, and we come to God through him who is our covenant head, our representative and forerunner before the throne of the Most High. Let us never try to pray without Christ; never try to sing without Christ; never try to preach without Christ. Let us perform no holy function, nor attempt to have fellowship with God in any shape or way, except through that rent which he has made in the veil by his flesh, sanctified for us, and offered upon the cross on our behalf.
Beloved, I have done when I have just remarked upon the next two verses, which are necessary to complete the sense, but which I was obliged to omit this morning, since there would be no time to handle them. We are called to take holy freedoms with God. “Let us draw near,*’ at once, “with a true heart in full assurance of faith.’* Let us do so boldly, for we have a great high priest. The twenty-first verse reminds us of this. Jesus is the great Priest, and we are the sub-priests under him, and since he bids us come near to God, and himself leads the way, let us follow him into the inner sanctuary. Because he lives, we shall live also. We shall not die in the holy place, unless he dies. God will not smite us unless he smites him. So, “having a high priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith.”
And then the apostle tells us that we may not only come with boldness, because our high priest leads the way, but because we ourpelves are prepared for entrance. Two things the high priest had to do before he might enter: one was, to be sprinkled with blood, and this we have; for “our hearts are sprinkled from an evil conscience.”
The other requisite for the priests was to have their “bodies washed with pure water.” This we have received in symbol in our baptism, and in reality in the spiritual cleansing of regeneration. To us has been fulfilled the prayer —
“Let the water and the blood
From thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.”
We have known the washing of water by the Word, and we have been sanctified by the Spirit of his grace; therefore let us enter into the holiest. Why should we stay away? Hearts sprinkled with blood, bodies washed with pure water — these are the ordained preparations for acceptable entrance. Come near, beloved I May the Holy Spirit be the spirit of access to you now. Come to your God, and then abide with him! He is your Father, your all in all. Sit down and rejoice in him; take your fill of love; and let not your communion be broken between here and heaven. Why should it be? Why not begin to-day that sweet enjoyment of perfect reconciliation and delight in God which shall go on increasing in intensity until you behold the Lord in open vision, and go no more out? Heaven will bring a great change in condition, but not in our standing, if even now we stand within the veil. It will be only such a change as there is between the perfect day and the daybreak; for we have the same sun, and the same light from the sun, and the same privilege of walking in the light. “Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Division.” Amen, and Amen.
Portion of Scripture read before Sermon — Hebrews x.
Hymns FROM ‘* Our Own Hymn Book” — 318, 296, 395.