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II.
PROPITIATION

“He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.” – 1 John ii. 2.

It is easier to attack than to defend. An objection may be stated in a single sentence which shall require many pages for an adequate reply. Those who reject Christianity generally adopt this method, but I know not why they should be allowed to monopolise it. Why should not believers, instead of simply proving that there is a God, and that the Bible is His Word, insist upon positive proof from their opponents that there is no God, and that the Bible is nothing more than a human book? Why should we not impose upon them the more difficult task of defending their position, by attacking it with all earnestness at every point? For Christian defence, we have need to be both really and consciously very strong in the truth. On the other hand, to be an unbeliever, a man can do without either knowledge or goodness. He has only to ply you with his eternal “Why?” Why, because the universe exists, must it have ever been created? Why may it not have always existed? Why are we bound to accept the teaching of the Bible? Why was it necessary that Christ should suffer to expiate our sins? Why did Christ come so late in the history of the world? Why are there no miracles now? Why? Why? Why?—

As Christians, however, we take the position open to us, whether of attack or defence. We do so because the salvation of our adversaries is dear to us, and because we are so sure that the course they adopt injures, not ourselves, but them. We bring to them a priceless treasure – salvation through, and from, the crucified Christ. If they hinder us, the loss is theirs.

On the present occasion we deal with one of the questions often propounded: “Why was it necessary that Christ should die for our sins, in order that we may be saved?” or, “How can the sufferings of the innocent atone for the sins of the guilty?”

To make our answer more clear, we begin by saying: “We do not know.” Why should we insist – why should any one insist – upon understanding the “why” of this arrangement? Why should not every one be content to know the fact? If the reason of the fact were obvious, we should, of course, gladly accept it; but if it be hidden from us, whilst the fact itself is disclosed, why should we complain? We cannot fully understand the Divine purposes. We can only guess. Even angels study, and wonder, and adore, but do not fully know. Let it be observed that the real question here is not exactly as unbelievers put it. Thus: I do not know how the rays of the sun enlighten my eyes, nor how my enlightened eyes transmit ideas to my mind. Does it follow that the sun does not enlighten, or that my mind does not receive impressions through what I see? The imperative question is, not, “How is the thing done?” but, “Is it done?” – not as to the reason of the fact, but the reality of it. So in the matter before us. It is surely enough for us to show that redemption through the sacrifice of Christ, like the sun, comes from God, and that it gives light, life, and fruit. This being done, nothing more can be reasonably asked.

To know whether this doctrine of redemption is God’s truth, it is sufficient to know whether the Bible is God’s Word. And here we ask, What will you do with ancient prophecies and their fulfilment? – with confirmations of Bible history which are continually accumulating? – with the conspicuous excellence of the moral teaching and influence which the Bible supplies? – with the sublimity of Christ’s character? – with the miracles He wrought? – with the marvellous effects of Christianity upon the world, notwithstanding the strongest inducements, in human prejudice, to its rejection? Settle such questions as these according to the admitted laws of evidence, and then there will be no reason to contend as to the “why” and the “how” of redemption.

Such, however, is not the method which the unbeliever pursues. He turns away from the Record as a source of instruction. It is hard to convince a man who begins by closing his ears with his own pride. To whatever study a man addresses himself, he will never advance in it in spite of himself. His progress will be proportioned, among other things, to the amount of honest effort he makes to learn. That is, he must feel the fact and the disadvantage of his own ignorance. Who could study mathematics by beginning at the outset to dispute its axioms? Just so with Christian truth. Put aside prejudice and pride. Do not take it for granted that you have light enough in your mind, at starting, to pronounce upon the truth or the falsity, the reasonableness or the unreasonableness, of the doctrine of salvation through the cross of Christ. Listen attentively. Look for more light, and receive it when it comes. We do not say: “Believe before you have read;” but we do say: “Don’t contradict before you have read.”

I have already said that we are not obliged to explain the philosophy of the redemption which is taught in the Scriptures. Let me now say that that redemption is itself the best solution of the great difficulty which is felt by the believer and the unbeliever alike. It is this: Conscience tells us that God is just; the heart tells us that He is good; – how then can a God whose justice and goodness are equal, i. e., both of them infinite, escape from the position in which sinners have placed Him? I put the difficulty in this bold form in order that it may be the more distinctly apprehended. We have sinned, and a just God must punish. We sigh after happiness, and a good God – a God who is infinitely kind – may be expected to bestow happiness upon us. But how can God deal with us in both these ways at one and the same time?

We know instinctively, of course, that there is no real dilemma to God Himself; but those who reject the atonement of Christ are bound to deal with what presents itself as an inevitable dilemma to them.

The unbeliever says: “God is too good to punish.” What then becomes of His justice, since conscience testifies that we are sinners, that sin deserves punishment, that vice and virtue are not one, that God cannot deal in the same way with both without encouraging the vice which needs to be suppressed, and discouraging the virtue which needs to be upheld? Take away the fear of punishment under the pretext that God is good, and you deprive conscience of its meaning and its power.

Shall it be said, then, that God will punish every transgressor? Have the numberless generations which have been upon the earth gone to an inevitable doom? This conclusion is as hard to admit as the other. The instincts of the heart are against it.

No; men do not accept either conclusion to the exclusion of the other. They say God will adopt a mean between His justice and His mercy so as to bring them into harmony. But how? Here is the crucial difficulty. Is it to be solved by the principle of mutual concession?

Let me remind you, again, that the difficulty is not created by God, but by man. In Him, justice and mercy are really one: it is only to us that they are seen to be two; and it is our sin which disturbs and confuses our conception of their union with each other. He might indeed annihilate us, and so leave us no opportunity to complain. But our whole moral and emotional nature repels with horror the thought of such a termination to our sin, as being unworthy of the God who has to govern us. No! when we reflect seriously upon the question, we cannot resist the feeling that God must have some plan of rescuing us from the doom we merit which shall give equal expression to His justice and His mercy.

Men in general, alas! hold justice cheaply, and, lowering the Divine standard of human character, they easily persuade themselves that they may enter heaven through the breach they have made in the Divine attributes. They think that God is indulgent, and will forgive, forgetting that indulgence is weakness. God will forgive, but His forgiveness must stand on safe ground. It cannot apply indiscriminately to all men. Men think they have said all when they have said, “God will forgive.” Such a forgiveness would aim a blow at His justice. No matter; He will forgive! Such a forgiveness is without motive – an effect without a cause. No matter; He will forgive! Such a forgiveness has its root in sentiment, not in reason. It matters not; He will forgive! Such a forgiveness imposes no obligation on the forgiver, and encourages sin. Never mind; He will forgive!

Surely this is the spiritual blindness which comes from the perversion of the conscience and the heart.

Some say, “God forgives; but the condition is that we turn away from sin and live a life of holiness.” There are many answers to this; but I will only ask those who thus speak, “Are you now living in such a way as to have in your present holiness, and on the ground of it, the assurance of your pardon?” That is a question which conscience may be safely left to answer.

At this point Christianity comes professing to reveal to us the Divine plan of salvation. It tells us that God forgives for the sake of Jesus Christ, who is Himself, in His sacrifice, the gift of the Father’s love. A debt has been contracted; the insolvent debtor presents in payment the money which a friend has freely contributed for the purpose; the creditor is satisfied. In this way goodness and justice are reconciled. It is Divine love which meets the claim of the Divine Righteousness. The redeemed soul, redeemed by the blood of Christ, is led to obedience by a love which responds to the love which has redeemed him. This last result none can dispute. Does it spring from error? No; it is too pure, too blessed for that. The redemption that produces it is a true principle founded in the nature of God – sublime in its working – like sap, inexplicable, but justified by the beauty of its foliage and the goodliness of its fruits.

Let us look a little more closely into this principle of Propitiation. Suppose we were reading the gospel for the first time, free from prejudice, and from the deadening influence of habit; we should be struck with the prominence everywhere given in it to the death of Christ. Ask a Christian child, or an aged saint, “What did Christ come on earth to do?” The answer from each will be, “He came to die for us.” The child finds his answer on the very surface of Scripture; the aged man finds it in that same Scripture when he has studied it to its very depths. The one quickly learns that this death of Christ was often predicted by Christ Himself, that it holds the most prominent place in each of the four Gospels, that it is constantly referred to in the Epistles, that it is the text of all the preaching of the apostles, and that it is symbolised in both the sacraments, for “we are buried by baptism into His death,” and whenever in the Supper we partake of the bread and wine, we “show forth His death till He come.” The mature Christian, in his turn, learns to look upon the death of Christ as the centre and the soul of all the great acts of the great work of our redemption, which seem, whether they preceded or followed, to have been done in direct view of it, and in indissoluble connection with it. The incarnation was designed to open up the way for it. “Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, He also Himself likewise took part of the same; that through death He might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil.” The resurrection was intended to attest its meaning and its value. For Christ was “delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification.” The object of the ascension was to secure the precious fruits of it. “For He entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.”

The remarkable thing in all this is that in the gospel, the aim of which is to reveal eternal life, the Prince of Life is always offered to us as dying upon the cross. Death in order to life! What can be the meaning and the bearing of a death which God has placed in so exalted a position? We can only get our answer from Scripture; and we can only get it from Scripture as we read in the simple, unsophisticated humility of mind and heart of which Christ Himself and His apostles give us the example.

“Jesus Christ is the propitiation for our sins.” We have sinned against God, and our sins have been so many offences to Him; offences which must be dealt with. Christ averts the penalty from us by taking it to Himself. The Holy One consents to suffer for the sake of the guilty. The apostle who styles Christ as the “Propitiation” has said, in a sentence immediately preceding: “The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.” Almost numberless passages teach the same doctrine. If we were engaged in an exercise of Biblical criticism, we should have to discuss each of these passages minutely in its turn. But the general idea we gather from them is definite and clear. A ransom paid, our sins borne, the wrath of God appeased, an offered sacrifice – all these contain one idea: Jesus Christ freeing us from the desert of our sin by Himself satisfying Divine Justice on our behalf.

Hence the two great facts of our religious history. We were under the condemnation of a holy law. He who was “the Life,” for our sake endured death that we who deserved death might have life for His sake. And God is “faithful and just to forgive us our sins.”

To a simple-hearted Christian all this is clear. Men may be scandalised at the exchange (as they term it) between justice and sin, between life and death; but Paul knows how to state the matter: “God hath made Him (Christ) to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.” Men may be indignant (as they often profess to be) at the thought of the innocent suffering for the guilty; but Peter does not hesitate to say: “Christ hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God.”

What is it, moreover, that connects the teaching of the Old Testament with that of the New? The doctrine of sacrifice, as thus explained, is not simply attested by Scripture: it is the soul of it; its bond of unity. The death of Christ is the sacrifice “once offered in the end of the world,” in which all the sacrifices of the Old Testament find their common destination; to which they correspond, as the figure to the reality. The cross is the end, the key, the meaning, the value of all of them. Without this we cannot understand them. They were types: the cross is the antitype. What they represented, the cross achieved. The cross procured the pardon which they proclaimed. And so the cross has always been the symbol of the Christian Church. The Jews understood it, and were scandalised; the Greeks understood it, and sneered.

And now what ends does this sacrifice of Propitiation serve? Mainly two, which are inclusive of all the rest.

I. It is the fullest revelation of the Divine character. Leaving aside all questions of abstract and technical theology, we observe that it sets before us, in one great act, the righteousness and the mercy of God. The cross proclaims the pardon for which infinite love solicits. The heart of God yields to itself. But how can this be? It is because the pardon solicited by love is obtained by a sacrifice which equally exhibits God’s righteousness. If we seek the universe through for the greatest proof we can have of the love of God to the sinner, we shall find it in the cross; for we there see not only that God forgives, but also that He is so resolved to forgive that, rather than that the sinner shall be left to perish, the stroke of the offended law shall fall on the willing head and heart and life of “His only begotten and well-beloved Son.” On the other hand, if we want to know something of God’s abhorrence of sin, we shall find it in the cross; for we there see that, so impossible is it for Him to allow it to go unpunished, that He secures for it a Divine expiation in the willing sacrifice of His Divine Son. “Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” Most persons can see in the cross a demonstration of Divine love; in the light of Bible teaching, they may also see in it a demonstration of Divine justice more marked and telling than in a closed Eden, in the waters of the Deluge, in the overthrow of the cities of the plain, in the destruction of Jerusalem, or in the punishment of the wicked in eternity.

II. If men are to be saved at all, they must be saved to holiness; they must be sanctified as well as forgiven. The result cannot be otherwise for those who truly believe in the sacrifice of Christ as thus explained. Holiness and love, the two great elements of the character of God; these are expressed in the cross, and they must be reproduced in the character of those for whom the cross does its appointed work. How can we believe, as the cross teaches us to believe, in God’s hatred to sin, without feeling that we must hate it also, and, hating it, must forsake it? And how can we believe, as the cross teaches us to believe, in the love which has obtained our salvation, without giving our own love as a genuine, though feeble, return? Let a man, struggling with the sins which he condemns, but which he cannot shake off, learn that the Son of God came into the world to die for him; and he will find in that revelation a strength for conflict with sin which he never had before. Speak to him of the beauty and dignity of the law, of the righteousness of God’s claims, of the penalties of transgression; and, though his conscience may assent to all you say, his heart will not yield. Can he refuse when he sees Jesus on the cross, and knows what, for him, that spectacle means? The cross is an argument presented to his reason, his conscience, his will, his heart, his whole being; nay, it is more than an argument, it is an appeal; and the response must be: “We love Him because He first loved us.” “The love of Christ constraineth us; because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead: and that He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him who died for them, and rose again.”

And now it only remains to be said that this Propitiation is needed by all, that it is sufficient for all, and that it is free to all. Let all receive it.

III.
FAITH IN THE SAVIOUR

“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” – Acts xvi. 31.

A startling providential dispensation was one of the means by which the spiritual nature of this jailer was roused. Only one, effectual so far as it went, but not complete in itself. It was preparatory and auxiliary to the action of the Holy Spirit, the instrument by which the Spirit did His special work of convincing the man of sin. Thus it is that outward events and circumstances are made to co-operate with God in the conversion of a soul. The way in which the Spirit works is a mystery, akin to that in which one human mind acts upon another. But the means of this spiritual action is no mystery. We use speech, external appliances of various kinds; the Divine Spirit does the same. In the case of the jailer he employed the earthquake together with the calm faith, the perfect serenity, of the apostles at a moment which was to himself a moment of terror, and which would also have been a moment of terror to them had they not been the Christians they were. A great joy; a great sorrow, commotion, loss, alarm, the apparent nearness of death; daily mercies, the “means of grace,” the Word of God, the ministry of the gospel – through all these the Spirit works. They are powerless in themselves; they can only become mighty as used by Him.

It is obvious at a glance that this man’s spiritual nature was roused. Spiritual realities burst in upon his mind in all their awful momentousness. His whole soul was suddenly concentrated in a sense of his ruin. Hence the short, sharp question – the question which sprung from an inward agony – “What must I do to be saved?” That question must be answered, if it can be – answered on the instant! There is a tremendous depth of meaning in it. It is as though a lightning flash had in a moment illuminated the man’s whole spiritual condition, bringing out every feature of it into startling distinctness. All the fears and the aspirations of his immortal being are here; his past life with all its sin, his remorse, his dread of judgment, his terror in the presence of God – all are here; he feels himself to be a lost man. How can he be saved?

In his question there is no hint of self-righteousness or of self-confidence, or even of the remotest hope in himself. He does not ask, like “the young man in the gospel,” “What good thing must I do that I may inherit eternal life?” The question of the young man is leisurely; the question of the jailer is hurried, under the feeling that there is not a moment to be lost. Helpless and hopeless, he wants but one thing, and that is to be “saved.” Of course his “What must I do?” indicates that he is willing and ready to comply with any possible terms; yet it is not a question of conscious strength – it is rather the question of despair.

Such a question shows that a great point – an essential point – had been gained. The gospel is a sovereign remedy designed and constructed to meet a desperate case. Not only do they that are whole stand in no need of a physician, but wherever there lingers an idea of spiritual strength, or a dream, of self-righteousness, the condition necessary for the reception of such a salvation as that which the gospel proclaims is entirely wanting. Christ is an exclusive Saviour, and “looking to Him” is an exclusive hope.

“What must I do to be saved?” Clear, quick, unhesitating, comes the answer of Paul: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” Both the question and the answer strike the point – the centre of the soul’s supreme need, and the centre of the gospel message.

This answer of Paul’s is not simply his own. It is the answer of God to every man who wants to know how he can be saved. It is the answer of the whole Bible. It is the pre-eminently, distinctively Christian answer. All revelation has one great object – Jesus Christ, promised, announced, expected, seen by faith beforehand; then Jesus Christ actually come, His life told, His mission developed, Himself presented to the world as the one and only Name whereby men can be saved; – always Jesus Christ. Patriarchs and prophets, Moses and David, Christ Himself, His apostles and disciples after Him, the whole Church – all unite to say to the awakened soul: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.”

But this answer, though not Paul’s alone, is nevertheless his in such a sense that an immense weight belongs to it. What does Paul himself understand by it? We know something of his experience, and that will tell us the meaning of these words as spoken by him. He spake that which he knew, and testified that which he had seen. He felt that he could offer to the spiritual need of every man that which had so fully met his own.

Read Paul’s life. Read his epistles. You see at a glance what Christ was to him– a Redeemer. And what to him was the very centre of Christian truth? “Christ crucified.” He had been so roused as to see clearly the relation between himself and God. The true sense of sin had been awakened within him. No man had made more strenuous efforts to obtain justification by the works of the law than he had; and no man had more deeply realised his helplessness. How does he describe the struggle? “I had not known sin, but by the law… When the commandment came, sin revived, and I died… Sin, taking occasion by the commandment, deceived me, and by it slew me… That which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I… I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) there dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do… O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”

“I thank God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

We all know how God arrested, overcame, and subdued him, by showing him in that same “Jesus Christ our Lord” the mystery of the Divine love. God taught him that he must no longer expect righteousness and eternal life to come from his own works, to be wrought by his own strength. Eternal life is the free gift of God. Look to the cross! Listen to the Spirit! Learn in “the folly of the cross” to adore the wisdom and the power of God – a forgiveness that glorifies justice as well as mercy; a forgiveness that kills sin as well as removes its penalty; a salvation that harmonises man with God as well as forgives him; a salvation that implies a perfect holiness, the motive being love, and the effectual power being that of the Holy Spirit. Deep as his want had been, it was now completely met by the revelation of the Saviour. To that revelation his response was prompt, complete, irrevocable. He says that it was as though scales had fallen from his eyes, this disclosure of the Divine plan of salvation to his mind. It was full of light, full of mercy. The manifestation of the risen Christ was the instrumentality which enlightened him. He saw straightway the nature and purpose of “the cross,” the certainty of justification through faith, the believer’s completeness in Christ. “Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.” “There is now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh: that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.” “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.” The natural result of these convictions in the apostle’s own case was his consecration to the Saviour. Bought with a great price, he felt that he was no longer his own, but that, in life and death, he belonged to Him who had given Himself for him. In Christ he had found peace for his conscience, light for his mind, love for his heart. And what was the secret of it all? Simply “believing in the Lord Jesus Christ.”

This, then, was Paul’s gospel to the jailer, and there is no other gospel to-day. We know that sin incurs condemnation – the displeasure of God. The universal conscience gives testimony to that fact. We know that man cannot, in his own person, satisfy the claims of the Divine law. But there comes down to us the old truth that Christ is “the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” He “finished the work which His Father gave Him to do,” and the whole benefit of that work is given to faith.

It is in the name of this perfect system of truth – which, observe, is a perfect series of facts – consecrated by the trial of ages, by the experience of an incalculable number of souls in all times, places, and conditions, and by the world’s own verdict on Christian character wherever it is found – that we speak to you with a confidence equal to that with which Paul spoke to the jailer. And let me add that we so speak because we have made the experience of it our own, and that it is as sure in our hearts as our very existence. Yes, a perfect series of facts as well as a perfect system of truth. Men sometimes object that we put before them hard and abstruse systems of theology, and that we condemn them for not believing things which they cannot understand. There is no need to do anything of the kind, and when it is done a grave mistake is committed. I preach no “abstractions” to you when I urge you to faith in Christ for salvation. I deal with facts and their deductions – deductions which are as inevitable as the facts are real – deductions which follow the facts as the shadow follows the substance. Deny the deductions? You must first deny the facts. The jailer, poor man, was no theologian, and Paul did not perplex and mystify him. He placed the person of Christ immediately before the soul. Faith in a person; that is first– not faith in a creed. A creed will follow; for there cannot be faith without thought, and thought always strives to formulate itself. But, blessed be God, millions have been saved with next to no “theology.” Having Christ for its object, and salvation for its aim, faith reposes in the facts of His mission and work; but as He is a living Christ, it emphatically reposes in Him. This is the commonest form of the believer’s experience. In our social life we know what faith in a person means. We confide in known goodness; and therefore we believe words, promises, acts, and we do so because we trust him from whom they come. This is the last and most perfect stage of the faith men place in one another, and it includes a confidence which is not impaired by what, in the person who is trusted, seems startling, unexpected, mysterious, contradictory, inexplicable. Just so with the gospel. It meets our needs by telling us what God has done for us in Christ. We believe the record which fits our want, and we put our trust in the Saviour. Confiding in Him, we can accept such mysteries as we may discern in His dealings, and faith in a holy and loving Saviour is henceforth the true rest of life, and the true foretaste of heaven.