"And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all
men unto Me." John xii. 32.
A GREAT number of men live and die without reflecting at all upon the
state of things in which they find themselves. They take things as they
come, and follow their inclinations as far as they have the opportunity.
They are guided mainly by pleasure and pain, not by reason, principle,
or conscience; and they do not attempt to interpret this world, to determine
what it means, or to reduce what they see and feel to system. But when
persons, either from thoughtfulness of mind, or from intellectual activity,
begin to contemplate the visible state of things into which they are born,
then forthwith they find it a maze and a perplexity. It is a riddle which
they cannot solve. It seems full of contradictions and without a drift.
Why it is, and what it is to issue in, and how it is what it is, and how
we come to be introduced into it, and what is our destiny, are all mysteries.
In this difficulty, some have formed one philosophy of life, and others
another. Men have thought they had found the key, by means of which they
might read what is so obscure. Ten thousand things come before us one after
another in the course of life, and what are we to think of them? what colour
are we to give them? Are we to look at all things in a gay and mirthful
way? or in a melancholy way? in a desponding or a hopeful way? Are we to
make light of life altogether, or to treat the whole subject seriously?
Are we to make greatest things of little consequence, or least things of
great consequence? Are we to keep in mind what is past and gone, or are
we to look on to the future, or are we to be absorbed in what is present?
How are we to look at things? this is the question which all persons of
observation ask themselves, and answer each in his own way. They wish to
think by rule; by something within them, which may harmonize and adjust
what is without them. Such is the need felt by reflective minds. Now, let
me ask, what is the real key, what is the Christian interpretation of this
world? What is given us by revelation to estimate and measure this world
by? The event of this season, the Crucifixion of the Son of God.
It is the death of the Eternal Word of God made flesh, which is our
great lesson how to think and how to speak of this world. His Cross has
put its due value upon every thing which we see, upon all fortunes, all
advantages, all ranks, all dignities, all pleasures; upon the lust of the
flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. It has set a price
upon the excitements, the rivalries, the hopes, the fears, the desires,
the efforts, the triumphs of mortal man. It has given a meaning to the
various, shifting course, the trials, the temptations, the sufferings,
of his earthly state. It has brought together and made consistent all that
seemed discordant and aimless. It has taught us how to live, how to use
this world, what to expect, what to desire, what to hope. It is the tone
into which all the strains of this world's music are ultimately to be resolved.
Look around, and see what the world presents of high and low. Go to
the court of princes. See the treasure and skill of all nations brought
together to honour a child of man. Observe the prostration of the many
before the few. Consider the form and ceremonial, the pomp, the state,
the circumstance; and the vainglory. Do you wish to know the worth of it
all? look at the Cross of Christ.
Go to the political world: see nation jealous of nation, trade rivalling
trade, armies and fleets matched against each other. Survey the various
ranks of the community, its parties and their contests, the strivings of
the ambitious, the intrigues of the crafty. What is the end of all this
turmoil? the grave. What is the measure? the Cross.
Go, again, to the world of intellect and science: consider the wonderful
discoveries which the human mind is making, the variety of arts to which
its discoveries give rise, the all but miracles by which it shows its power;
and next, the pride and confidence of reason, and the absorbing devotion
of thought to transitory objects, which is the consequence. Would you form
a right judgment of all this? look at the Cross.
Again: look at misery, look at poverty and destitution, look at oppression
and captivity; go where food is scanty, and lodging unhealthy. Consider
pain and suffering, diseases long or violent, all that is frightful and
revolting. Would you know how to rate all these? gaze upon the Cross.
Thus in the Cross, and Him who hung upon it, all things meet; all things
subserve it, all things need it. It is their centre and their interpretation.
For He was lifted up upon it, that He might draw all men and all things
But it will be said, that the view which the Cross of Christ imparts
to us of human life and of the world, is not that which we should take,
if left to ourselves; that it is not an obvious view; that if we look at
things on their surface, they are far more bright and sunny than they appear
when viewed in the light which this season casts upon them. The world seems
made for the enjoyment of just such a being as man, and man is put into
it. He has the capacity of enjoyment, and the world supplies the means.
How natural this, what a simple as well as pleasant philosophy, yet how
different from that of the Cross! The doctrine of the Cross, it may be
said, disarranges two parts of a system which seem made for each other;
it severs the fruit from the eater, the enjoyment from the enjoyer. How
does this solve a problem? does it not rather itself create one?
I answer, first, that whatever force this objection may have, surely
it is merely a repetition of that which Eve felt and Satan urged in Eden;
for did not the woman see that the forbidden tree was "good for food,"
and "a tree to be desired"? Well, then, is it wonderful that we too, the
descendants of the first pair, should still be in a world where there is
a forbidden fruit, and that our trials should lie in being within reach
of it, and our happiness in abstaining from it? The world, at first sight,
appears made for pleasure, and the vision of Christ's Cross is a solemn
and sorrowful sight interfering with this appearance. Be it so; but why
may it not be our duty to abstain from enjoyment notwithstanding, if it
was a duty even in Eden?
But again; it is but a superficial view of things to say that this life
is made for pleasure and happiness. To those who look under the surface,
it tells a very different tale. The doctrine of the Cross does but teach,
though infinitely more forcibly, still after all it does but teach the
very same lesson which this world teaches to those who live long in it,
who have much experience in it, who know it. The world is sweet to the
lips, but bitter to the taste. It pleases at first, but not at last. It
looks gay on the outside, but evil and misery lie concealed within. When
a man has passed a certain number of years in it, he cries out with the
Preacher, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." Nay, if he has not religion
for his guide, he will be forced to go further, and say, "All is vanity
and vexation of spirit;" all is disappointment; all is sorrow; all is pain.
The sore judgments of God upon sin are concealed within it, and force a
man to grieve whether he will or no. Therefore the doctrine of the Cross
of Christ does but anticipate for us our experience of the world. It is
true, it bids us grieve for our sins in the midst of all that smiles and
glitters around us; but if we will not heed it, we shall at length be forced
to grieve for them from undergoing their fearful punishment. If we will
not acknowledge that this world has been made miserable by sin, from the
sight of Him on whom our sins were laid, we shall experience it to be miserable
by the recoil of those sins upon ourselves.
It may be granted, then, that the doctrine of the Cross is not on the
surface of the world. The surface of things is bright only, and the Cross
is sorrowful; it is a hidden doctrine; it lies under a veil; it at first
sight startles us, and we are tempted to revolt from it. Like St. Peter,
we cry out, "Be it far from Thee, Lord; this shall not be unto Thee." [Matt.
xvi. 22.] And yet it is a true doctrine; for truth is not on the surface
of things, but in the depths.
And as the doctrine of the Cross, though it be the true interpretation
of this world, is not prominently manifested in it, upon its surface, but
is concealed; so again, when received into the faithful heart, there it
abides as a living principle, but deep, and hidden from observation. Religious
men, in the words of Scripture, "live by the faith of the Son of God, who
loved them and gave Himself for them:" [Gal. ii. 20.] but they do not tell
this to all men; they leave others to find it out as they may. Our Lord's
own command to His disciples was, that when they fast, they should "anoint
their head and wash their face." [Matt. vi. 17.] Thus they are bound not
to make a display, but ever to be content to look outwardly different from
what they are really inwardly. They are to carry a cheerful countenance
with them, and to control and regulate their feelings, that those feelings,
by not being expended on the surface, may retire deep into their hearts
and there live. And thus "Jesus Christ and He crucified" is, as the Apostle
tells us, "a hidden wisdom;"‹hidden in the world, which seems at first
sight to speak a far other doctrine,‹and hidden in the faithful soul, which
to persons at a distance, or to chance beholders, seems to be living but
an ordinary life, while really it is in secret holding communion with Him
who was "manifested in the flesh," "crucified through weakness," "justified
in the Spirit, seen of angels, and received up into glory."
This being the case, the great and awful doctrine of the Cross of Christ,
which we now commemorate, may fitly be called, in the language of figure,
the heart of religion. The heart may be considered as the seat of life;
it is the principle of motion, heat, and activity; from it the blood goes
to and fro to the extreme parts of the body. It sustains the man in his
powers and faculties; it enables the brain to think; and when it is touched,
man dies. And in like manner the sacred doctrine of Christ's Atoning Sacrifice
is the vital principle on which the Christian lives, and without which
Christianity is not. Without it no other doctrine is held profitably; to
believe in Christ's divinity, or in His manhood, or in the Holy Trinity,
or in a judgment to come, or in the resurrection of the dead, is an untrue
belief, not Christian faith, unless we receive also the doctrine of Christ's
sacrifice. On the other hand, to receive it presupposes the reception of
other high truths of the Gospel besides; it involves the belief in Christ's
true divinity, in His true incarnation, and in man's sinful state by nature;
and it prepares the way to belief in the sacred Eucharistic feast, in which
He who was once crucified is ever given to our souls and bodies, verily
and indeed, in His Body and in His Blood. But again, the heart is hidden
from view; it is carefully and securely guarded; it is not like the eye
set in the forehead, commanding all, and seen of all: and so in like manner
the sacred doctrine of the Atoning Sacrifice is not one to be talked of,
but to be lived upon; not to be put forth irreverently, but to be adored
secretly; not to be used as a necessary instrument in the conversion of
the ungodly, or for the satisfaction of reasoners of this world, but to
be unfolded to the docile and obedient; to young children, whom the world
has not corrupted; to the sorrowful, who need comfort; to the sincere and
earnest, who need a rule of life; to the innocent, who need warning; and
to the established, who have earned the knowledge of it.
One more remark I shall make, and then conclude. It must not be supposed,
because the doctrine of the Cross makes us sad, that therefore the Gospel
is a sad religion. The Psalmist says, "They that sow in tears shall reap
in joy;" and our Lord says, "They that mourn shall be comforted." Let no
one go away with the impression that the Gospel makes us take a gloomy
view of the world and of life. It hinders us indeed from taking a superficial
view, and finding a vain transitory joy in what we see; but it forbids
our immediate enjoyment, only to grant enjoyment in truth and fulness afterwards.
It only forbids us to begin with enjoyment. It only says, If you begin
with pleasure, you will end with pain. It bids us begin with the Cross
of Christ, and in that Cross we shall at first find sorrow, but in a while
peace and comfort will rise out of that sorrow. That Cross will lead us
to mourning, repentance, humiliation, prayer, fasting; we shall sorrow
for our sins, we shall sorrow with Christ's sufferings; but all this sorrow
will only issue, nay, will be undergone in a happiness far greater than
the enjoyment which the world gives,‹though careless worldly minds indeed
will not believe this, ridicule the notion of it, because they never have
tasted it, and consider it a mere matter of words, which religious persons
think it decent and proper to use, and try to believe themselves, and to
get others to believe, but which no one really feels. This is what they
think; but our Saviour said to His disciples, "Ye now therefore have sorrow,
but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no
man taketh from you." ... "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give unto
you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you." [John xvi. 22; xiv. 27.]
And St. Paul says, "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit
of God; for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because
they are spiritually discerned." "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither
have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared
for them that love Him." [1 Cor. ii. 9, 14.] And thus the Cross of Christ,
as telling us of our redemption as well as of His sufferings, wounds us
indeed, but so wounds as to heal also.
And thus, too, all that is bright and beautiful, even on the surface
of this world, though it has no substance, and may not suitably be enjoyed
for its own sake, yet is a figure and promise of that true joy which issues
out of the Atonement. It is a promise beforehand of what is to be: it is
a shadow, raising hope because the substance is to follow, but not to be
rashly taken instead of the substance. And it is God's usual mode of dealing
with us, in mercy to send the shadow before the substance, that we may
take comfort in what is to be, before it comes. Thus our Lord before His
Passion rode into Jerusalem in triumph, with the multitudes crying Hosanna,
and strewing His road with palm branches and their garments. This was but
a vain and hollow pageant, nor did our Lord take pleasure in it. It was
a shadow which stayed not, but flitted away. It could not be more than
a shadow, for the Passion had not been undergone by which His true triumph
was wrought out. He could not enter into His glory before He had first
suffered. He could not take pleasure in this semblance of it, knowing that
it was unreal. Yet that first shadowy triumph was the omen and presage
of the true victory to come, when He had overcome the sharpness of death.
And we commemorate this figurative triumph on the last Sunday in Lent,
to cheer us in the sorrow of the week that follows, and to remind us of
the true joy which comes with Easter Day.
And so, too, as regards this world, with all its enjoyments, yet disappointments.
Let us not trust it; let us not give our hearts to it; let us not begin
with it. Let us begin with faith; let us begin with Christ; let us begin
with His Cross and the humiliation to which it leads. Let us first be drawn
to Him who is lifted up, that so He may, with Himself, freely give us all
things. Let us "seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness," and
then all those things of this world "will be added to us." They alone are
able truly to enjoy this world, who begin with the world unseen. They alone
enjoy it, who have first abstained from it. They alone can truly feast,
who have first fasted; they alone are able to use the world, who have learned
not to abuse it; they alone inherit it, who take it as a shadow of the
world to come, and who for that world to come relinquish it.
Copyright © 2000 by Bob Elder. All rights reserved.
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