Philip Preaching in a Samaritan City

“Then Philip went down to the city of Samaria, and preached Christ unto them.” — Acts vra. 5.

PHILIP (1.) went down to a city of Samaria; and (2.) preached Christ unto them.

I. Went down to a city of Samaria.

1. W ent down; that is, from Jerusalem. The place physically was high; and so the form of expression for going away from Jerusalem naturally came to be, “Going down.” Jerusalem was the centre. There were both the thrones and the altars of the house of David. Thither the tribes went up to worship; thence the law flowed out, and thence the gospel.

If there is one grand supereminent and central mountain in a country, to it the clouds of heaven come, around it they congregate. From that mountain, in turn, the water flows in every direction to refresh the land. Such, spiritually, was Jerusalem to the world.

The clouds gathered grand and multitudinous around it on the Pentecost that immediately followed the death and resurrection of the Lord. Under the influence of the rushing mighty wind they were precipitated on its summit, and flowed in vast volumes back to all the surrounding nations, bearing the gospel of grace to people of every tribe and tongue. Out of the temple that day flowed waters that at first rose to the ankles, and then to the knees, and then to the loins, and afterwards became waters to swim in — a great flowing river coursing through a desert world; and wherever it flowed changing the desert into a fruitful field.

Christ’s name and work is that central mountain now. The Spirit without measure is poured out on him. The

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Jerusalem that now is, is the Church of Christ in the world. Around it all heavenly influences congregate; on it they drop down; and from it then flow forth. Hence missions to heathen and Jews. If you ask, Why do Christians engage in mission work? the answer is, They cannot help it. Why do the rivers flow down the mountain-sides upon the parched plains when once the clouds have discharged their burdens on the mountain’s summit? They must flow down, by the law of their being. So Christians must flow: love in the hearts of the redeemed swells, and would rend them, unless they opened to give it vent. From Jerusalem, throughout all Judsea and Samaria, and unto the uttermost parts of the earth, — behold the law of the kingdom, the kingdom established in Christian hearts.

2. To a city. — In congregated masses of humanity, the evil is great when they are evil, the good great when they are good. The efforts of the first Christians were directed not exclusively, but chiefly, to the great cities. The spiritual warfare in this respect follows the analogy of the temporal: when the strongholds are won, the surrounding territory is more easily occupied.

Cities seem destined to play a greater part in modern than they played in ancient times. As yet no symptom appears of any natural law that shall check their increase. The corruption of such vast heaps of corruptible matter is enough to make the stoutest heart falter. In presence of modern cities and their phases of corruption we may well lose heart. “This is the victory that overcometh the world, even your faith.” Lord, increase our faith; for the sight or the thought of London makes our hearts flow down like water.

3. A city of Samaria. — It was near; it was needy. Long before, the native Jewish inhabitants had been carried away, and a colony of heathens planted in their stead. These added the worship of J ehovah to their variegated creed. They were a mixed people, with a patchwork religion. In later times they had in a great measure conformed externally to Jewish modes of worship, but conducted it on their own soil. They made a merit of having a common worship with the Jews, and eagerly claimed a common descent.

Samaria is near us to-day: if we are willing to go down to it, we need not lack a mission-field. We have not far to look down to Samaria; and she has not far to look up to us. If she see us like herself, — if she see us as covetous, as vain, as godless, — she will get comfort from us; and such peacemakers are not blessed. (See Ezek. xvi. 54.) If we give the profane and careless multitudes any ground for counting that we are not better than themselves, we heal their wounds slightly, and say, Peace, peace, when there is no peace. But if we go down to them with reproof on our lips — with reproof silent but mighty in our lives, — we shall, indeed, make them sorry at first, but out of that godly sorrow the joy of the Lord will in due time spring.

II. He preached Christ unto them. — When Philip had reached his proper mission-field, he forthwith began his proper mission work.

1. He preached. — Take it literally; for in that aspect it conveys a true, an appropriate lesson. The first and chief work of a missionary is to preach. The missionary is a herald, sent from the great King to a rebel country, bearing his terms of reconciliation. The first business of the herald is to proclaim his message. Indeed, the word which we translate preach, has been borrowed from that ancient office of a herald. Teaching and printing become in certain circumstances important auxiliaries; but they defeat their own end, if they occupy the foreground, or usurp the centre.

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Nor must we shut our eyes to the reproof which the term conveys to ourselves. Arguments and disquisitions, however just in themselves, and however important in respect of their themes, cannot serve as substitutes for preaching. To preach is to proclaim — to proclaim, as a herald from the great King, the terms on which the rebels will be received into favour. This is the real bone and marrow of preaching.

2. Preached Christ. — To this the teaching of the Bible constantly comes round. The true minister preaches, not law, not morality, not doctrine — preaches not philosophy, not religion, but Christ — not the Scriptures, not the true doctrine, but Christ. Proclaims, offers, presses Christ upon men.

3. Preached Christ unto them. — He brings the matter home to themselves, — he brings it home to each heart. To preach that Christ came into the world to save sinners, is right, but it is not enough. I think I see many near the kingdom, and yet falling short of it on this side. We are all sinners, and we all need Christ as our Saviour. I think I see souls slipping through the opening there and sinking. I fear, through that opening many may be lost. “Why so pertinacious in taking a whole armful of other people into your confession? I fear it is sometimes the same instinct that said, “What have we to do with thee, thou Jesus? art thou come to torment us?” What if a soul grasp a great multitude of others along with itself, when it comes near Christ, precisely in order that it may escape personal contact with him! Let others go for a time; change your method; instead of speaking about Christ as a Saviour of all, speak to him, that he may save you. Lord, I am lost, but I cling to thee. Christ to you; you to Christ.

Let the sunbeams passing through ordinary glass be spread over your naked hand; you may hold it under these bright rays for an hour, and experience no inconvenience. If you should shut your eyes, or look another way, you would scarcely know that the sunbeams were streaming on your hand at all. But now let the rays pass through a convex glass, and so be concentrated in one point upon your flesh. That one point will shine with great brightness; and what is more, that one bright point will burn. It will go to the quick, and compel you to withdraw.

Precisely the same diversities occur in preaching and hearing the gospel. It may be the same truth in both cases, as it was the same sunlight; and yet in the one it may be so spread out, in giving it or receiving it, that it exerts no power — that it falls on indulged sins, and shines on them, without ever making the sinner wince. The glorious gospel, the very truth of God, may be so diffused in the preaching or the hearing, or both, that it shall fall like sunbeams on a field and burn no blade. The same gospel when given on a point, or received into the conscience on a point, may run into the marrow like a sword, and compel the pierced soul to cry out, “What must I do to be saved?”