Accept Him Now
“Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.” Luke 18:37.
THE highways that lead to Jerusalem are always crowded with begging people. I had almost to fight my way into the city because of the lame, the halt, and the blind, on every side. It was especially true in the days of Jesus. He was making his way toward the city of Jericho, and great multitudes thronged the road. By the wayside was a blind beggar, Bartimseus by name. He felt the coming of the crowd before men with eyes could see, and when he realized that the multitudes had drawn nearer to him, he began to cry out excitedly, saying, “Tell me who it is that is passing by.” But nobody stopped to answer the question of the blind man. Then, I imagine, he sprang out into the road, and, with arms outreached, and with sightless eyes filled with tears, I think I hear him say again, “Who is it that is passing by?” Then someone, seeking to quiet him, spoke the words of my text — “Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.” Then the blind man began to cry for help, stretching forth his hands to Jesus. Our Saviour turned to look into the sightless eyes, by a word gave him sight, and he went on his way rejoicing.
It is not possible to say more than this by way of introduction, but I should like to add that Jesus of Nazareth is still passing by. He is the central figure of history, He is the foundation stone for all true civilization, He is the inspiration for right living, He is the strength of all true character building, and He is our only hope for time and eternity. He is still passing by. A man insults his intelligence if he does not consider Him. We know what sort of a man He was by what He said. “Never man spake like this man.” W e know it by what He did. He had only to reach out His hands, and the lame were healed; He had only to speak, and the blind could see; He had only to look, and the sick were made to rejoice, and they went along as if they were well. Tissot pictures Him passing through the country, and all ahead of Him are people suffering, and all back of Him are people leaping and praising God. We know Him by what He said, by what He did, by what He was.
In one of our cities I was speaking concerning the claims of Jesus Christ, when I saw an old, gray-haired man, evidently especially interested. I beckoned him to come near to me at the close of the service, and then I made the statement again, that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, because He said He was, and proved His claim by what He did. The old man looked at me for a moment and said, “Yes, but he might have been deceived.” I said, “Do you mean to say that Jesus Christ was a fanatic, and not to be accepted as a teacher?” He said, “I should not like to go so far as that.” I held out my Bible to him, and said, “Take this Bible and read all the words of Jesus, and if you can find one single sentence in all the sayings of Jesus that represents Him in any other way than as the most marvelous of teachers, as any other than the Son of God, then I will agree in the presence of this audience to turn away from my position and take yours.”
The old man said he would not take my Bible because he had one of his own, but he said he would give the matter fair consideration. Three days later I saw him again in the meeting, and I heard him say this: “For the first time in all my life I have read carefully the New Testament. With prejudice put away, I have considered the words of Jesus; honestly and sincerely I have weighed His messages, and I have come to receive Jesus Christ as my personal Saviour, and, furthermore,” said he, “I think no man can weigh His words carefully without coming to the same conclusion.” Jesus of Nazareth still passeth by.
As a matter of fact, where is He at this moment? I was preaching in my old church in Philadelphia, when, in speaking rapidly I made the mistake which many others have made in speaking of Jesus. I said that He was standing at the right hand of God, but He is not standing. Priests of earth stand, because theirs is an unfinished work, but He is sitting, because His redemptive work is finished, so far as He is concerned. Then all you have to do to be saved is to accept God’s offer of mercy and enter upon that finished work, to come with your sins and doubts, to come with emotion or without emotion, to come with your feeling, or to come with no feeling, but come. He is seated at God’s right hand. Some one says, “Is not that a contradiction? You say that Jesus of Nazareth is passing by, and now you say He is seated at the right hand of God.” Here is the explanation, John, 14:16: “And I will pray the Father, and He
shall give you another Comforter, that He may abide with you forever; even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth Him not, neither knoweth Him; but ye know Him, for He dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.”
Listen to the next verse: “I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you.” So that He is seated at the right hand of the Father and He is here. He is here in the third Person of the Holy Trinity. He is here in the singing, here in the speaking, here in the praying, here in the very atmosphere.
Mr. Moody was holding a service at one time when a great business man came and tried to get into the building, which was crowded. They were singing that hymn, “O Word of Words the Sweetest,” and had just reached the chorus, “Come, Oh, Come to Me;” that was all this business man heard. He made his way back to his office, but he could not attend his business. Across the pages of the books he saw that word, “Come,” written. He made his way back to his home, and he heard it in the ticking of his clock. He shut himself up in his room, and he heard it in the beating of his heart, and he told Mr. Moody that alone in his room, down on his knees, repenting of his sin, he received Jesus Christ as his Saviour, and that it was the words of the hymn that did it, and the hymn was simply Jesus speaking to him.
It was one of the greatest business men in the State of New York who came that day to Christ, and came because the hymn won him. Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. When we were holding a mission on the Pacific coast, we were making our way up to Oregon, and we stopped at one place called Grant’s Pass, and had a great meeting there at the railroad station. Just as we were singing the “Glory Song” there climbed up on to the platform a man dressed like an engine-driver, and one of my friends said, “That is the engine-driver who is going to take your train out to-night;” and then he added, “He is not a Christian.” Turning to him while some one was leading the singing, I said: “So you are not a Christian?” and he said, “Tell me what it means to be a Christian.” Then I told him it was to repent of every known sin, that it was to believe on Jesus Christ as a personal Saviour, that it was to confess Him as Lord, and to obey Him as one who could direct his life; and he bowed his head and said, “I will take Him.” “Very well,” I said, “tell the people here that you will take Him.” But it was not easy for him to speak to two thousand people, so he said, “You tell them.” The man stood by my side as I told them, and they cheered him again and again.
That evening, after our great train had been thundering away to the north for several hours and had stopped for water, that engine-driver came to our sleeping car, and, coming up to me, said, “I have carried two Presidents of the United States over this road. I have carried President McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt; but this is the first time I have ever carried Jesus Christ with me. But from this time on, every day and night, He will journey with me.” Now, why did this man come to Christ? I do not at all believe that it was because I had spoken to him, nor because his friend had spoken to him; but I learned afterwards: That when he left his home that afternoon to take his train out, his good Christian wife had thrown her arms around his neck and said, “George, it would be an awful thing, after we have journeyed together all these years, for us to be separated for eternity, and your life is so perilous.” Then she drew his head down a little closer, and said, “George, it is an awful thing not to know Jesus.”
But I do not think that was altogether the reason. I think it “fras not the pleading of his wife and the kiss she put upon his face, but it was the text, and Jesus of Nazareth was passing by.
At another time I was holding a meeting when a great, burly New Englander came up to me, and said, “Did you not conduct a mission in Oregon?” When I said “yes” he said, “Do you remember George Sampson, the engine-driver?” “Yes,” I said, “very well.” “He is my brother,” he said, “and do you know, sir, I have prayed for him for twenty-five years, and when he accepted Christ, his wife made her way to the nearest telegraph office, and sent me this message away across the continent, ‘George is converted, and I will wait here to receive your greetings,’ and I replied over the wires, ‘Praise God! I have been praying for this for a quarter of a century.’” It is when the sermon grips you, and sin haunts you, and when your mother’s prayer follows you, and your father’s message will not let you go, that my text is true. “Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.”
Go back a moment to the blind man. He was groping there in the darkness, and there are three things about him that you must understand. The first is this — he needed Christ; he could not see, nor can you.
Perhaps you have all your life been troubled with doubt; you almost doubt the existence of God, you question the inspiration of the Scriptures, you doubt the deity of Jesus. You cannot see, and it is no wonder. The things of God are not intellectually discerned first, they are spiritually discerned; and it is not what a man can weigh with his mind or understand with his intellect — it is not that which saves him. It is the acceptance of Jesus.
Secondly, he could only feel, but he knew that he wanted the Saviour. That is the experience of every one who is away from Christ, though he may not acknowledge it. The pleasures of the world have not satisfied him, sin has only mocked him, trouble has all but crushed him, and he has an ache in his heart. Every one away from Christ to-day, if he would confess it, would be obliged to say, “This is, indeed, true, I wish I knew Jesus.”
Thirdly, the only thing that he could do was to step out into the darkness. He could not see, he could only feel, and when he stepped out into the darkness, Jesus gave him sight. Our American poet, Whittier, put it as beautifully as any man could when he said:
“The steps of faith fall on the seeming void.
And find the Rock beneath.”
And that is the story of everyone who has become a Christian. You may not be able to understand, but step out by faith. You may not be able to explain the mysteries of the Scriptures, but step out by faith, and at this moment you may be saved.
D. L. Moody began his great conferences at Northfield with just a little handful of men, and one of the men who came to one of the first conferences was an Anglican clergyman, who told Mr. Moody how there came into his home in England an old German professor, an agnostic; and this German professor went with the Anglican clergyman one Sunday to the services of his Church. When the day was over the clergyman said to him, “Well, professor, what do you think of it?” The old man hesitated a second and said, “It is all very beautiful.” Then the old clergyman said, “Professor, don’t you think it is likely there is a God?” “Yes, likely,” was the hesitating reply. “Well, if there is a God, don’t you think He would make a revelation of Himself to His creatures?” “Yes, I should think He ought to.” “Well,” said the clergyman, “if He has made this revelation to His creatures, don’t you think He would make it plain if they would ask Him?” and the old German professor saw where he was going to, logically, and he had to reply, “Yes, I should think He ought to.” “Have you ever asked Him?” “No, I never have.” “Well, get down on your knees, and I will ask Him for you.” And they got down on their knees in the rectory, and the clergyman said, “O God, show Thyself to my old friend now;” then he put his arm around his friend, and said, “You pray.” The professor hesitated a minute, and then began in a trembling voice: “O God,” he said, and then, as if he had gone too far, he changed his prayer. “O God, if there be
a God, show me the light, and I will.” He was
going to say, “And I will walk in it,” when springing to his feet, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, he said, “Why, I see it now, and it is glorious!” And whenever God has a man’s will, whenever He has his absolute surrender, whenever He has his acceptance of Christ by faith, the man can step out into what seems to be darkness, and he will find all to be light.
But, what if you were to let Jesus of Nazareth pass by? Some of you will not understand what I am going to say now, but it is true if the Bible is true. If you allow Jesus of Nazareth to pass by, and you do not take him as your Saviour, then you have lost the power of prayer. There is only one way to pray, and it is in the name of Jesus, our Lord. When our Civil War was on in the United States, a young fellow, passing over the battlefield, saw a friend of his lying there who was shot almost to pieces. He stooped down and straightened out the shattered limbs, took water from his canteen to wash away the blood from his face, and then said, “Is there anything more I can do for you?” “Yes, there is something you can do for me,” replied the dying lad. “If you have a piece of paper in your pocket, and will write a letter to my father, I think I can sign it. My father 192 REVIVAL SERMONS
is a great judge in the North, and if you take him this letter, he will help you.” And this was the letter: “Dear Father: I am dying on the battlefield,
and one of my friends is helping me, and if he ever comes to you, be kind to him, for Charlie’s sake.” And then, with fingers that were fast stiffening in death, he signed his name.
The Civil War came to its end, and the soldiers went back home. One of them, in tattered uniform, made his way to the home of this great judge, but the servants would not admit him, for he looked like a tramp. He waited until the judge came out, and then stepped in front of him, holding out this soiled piece of paper. But the judge, thinking it was a plea for assistance, pushed him to one side. Then the soldier stepped back again, and showed him his boy’s signature, and that made all the difference in the world. He threw his arms around the soldier, and took him back into his house, and said to him, with tears running down his cheeks, “You can have everything that my money can buy, everything that my influence will secure.” The name did it! And there is a Name that unlocks heaven; it is this:
“Sweetest name on mortal tongue,
Sweetest carol ever sung:
Jesus, Blessed Jesus.”
, If you are letting Him pass by, God pity you.
‘There are only three things that you can do with Jesus. First, you can be indifferent to Him. Indifferent to Jesus, the Saviour of your mother, the Friend of your father! Secondly, you can reject Him.
Thirdly, you can accept Him. Sooner reject your own mother than Jesus. A friend of mine was sitting in his office, in Chicago, when he heard a rap at the door, and there came in a young fellow, who called him by name and said, “Do you think there is any hope for me to be a Christian?” My friend said, “Certainly.” “But,” he said, “wait a moment. Can a man be a Christian and turn against his mother?” And he went on to tell him this story:
He said, “I left my home in the eastern states, and my mother followed me with her letters and prayers; this angered me. Whenever I got a letter, I just threw it unopened into the fire. Then she came after me, into the city where I lived, and found her way to the railroad, where I was working, and one day she followed me onto the track where my engine was waiting, and looked up into my face.” Then he paused a moment, and said, “What do you think I did?” My friend said, “I know what you did; you sprang down from your engine, and you took her in your arms, and kissed her dear face, and called her mother!” “No,” said he, “I did not. I opened the throttle, drew my engine off, and left her standing there. “Then,” he said, “she came to the enginehouse, but I would not see her. Then she made her way back to her home in the East, heartbroken. Can a man be a Christian and do that?”
Six months later this same man sat in my friend’s office, and he said, “My mother is in the hotel across the street. I am taking her back with me to the West. She cannot live very long now, but I am doing all I can for her. Do you think a man can be a Christian if he has done all he can to atone for the past?” Accept Him now, with all your doubts and all your sins. He is passing by. Take Him and He will blot out your sins.
We were in Minneapolis when a business man was urged to come to the mission, and the more he was urged the more angry he became. One night, they say, he stopped for a moment at the door of the hall, and this was the only sentence he heard in all the sermon, “Accept.Him now.” He went away to his home, and they never heard him say an unkind word about the mission after that. He never confessed to being a Christian, but all his friends knew he was changed. That was in October, and when Christmas morning came, he called his wife and children into his study, and said, “I want to make you the best Christmas present I have ever given you,” and putting his arm around his wife, he said, “I want to give you a Christian husband.” Then, with one arm around his wife, and the other encircling the children, he started to pray, and broke down sobbing. But from that day to this he has lived a consistent Christian life. Jesus of Nazareth is passing by. He is here at this moment. He is waiting and pleading. I beseech you to take Him.