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Preacher, Keep Your Heart Full! by C. H. Spurgeon

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

The preacher we want [is] the man that has a full soul. Let him have a head—the more he knows the better; but, after all, give him a big heart: and when his heart beats, if his heart be full, it will, under God, either make the hearts of his congregation beat after him, or else make them conscious that he is laboring hard to compel them to follow. Oh! if we had more heart in our Master’s service, how much more labor we could endure. . . .

Perhaps you do not love your work. Oh, strive to love your work more, and then when your heart is full, you will go on well enough. “Oh,” saith the preacher, “I am weary of my work in preaching; I have little success; I find it a hard toil.” The answer to that question is, “Your heart is not full of it, for if you loved preaching, you would breathe preaching, feed on preaching, and find a compulsion upon you to follow preaching; and your heart being full of the thing, you would be happy in the employment. Oh, for a heart that is full, and deep, and broad! Find the man that hath such a soul as that, and that is the man from whom the living waters shall flow, to make the world glad with their refreshing streams.

Learn, then, the necessity of keeping the heart full; and let the necessity make you ask this question–“But how can I keep my heart full? How can I keep my desires burning and my zeal inflamed?” Christian! there is one text which will explain all this. “All my springs are in Thee,” said David. If thou hast all thy springs in God, thy heart will be full enough. If thou dost go to the foot of Calvary, there will thy heart be bathed in love and gratitude. . . . If thou dost continually draw thine impulse, thy life, the whole of thy being from the Holy Spirit, without whom thou canst do nothing, and if thou dost live in close communion with Christ, there will be no fear of thy having a dry heart. He who lives without prayer–he who lives with little prayer–he who seldom reads the Word–he who seldom looks up to heaven for a fresh influence from on high–he will be the man whose heart will become dry and barren; but he who calls in secret on his God–who spends much time in holy retirement–who delights to meditate on the words of the Most High–whose soul is given up to Christ–who delights in His fullness, rejoices in His all-sufficiency, prays for His second coming, and delights in the thought of His glorious advent–such a man, I say, must have an overflowing heart; and as his heart is, such will his life be. It will be a full life; it will be a life that will speak from the sepulcher, and make the echoes of the future.

from a sermon entitled “The Great Reservoir,” The New Park Street Pulpit, Vol. IV

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in C. H. Spurgeon |

Hugh Latimer’s Text by Frank Boreham

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

Frank Boreham was a pastor in New Zealand and Australia in the late 1800s and early 1900s. One Sunday evening, he began a series of sermons entitled, “Texts That Made History.” He began that first Sunday with “Martin Luther’s Text,” and continued the series for 125 Sundays!

This article deals with Hugh Latimer’s text. Latimer was one of the men who led the English Reformation under Edward VI. During the reign of Queen Mary (known as “bloody Mary” for her persecution of Protestants during her reign), Latimer was one of nearly 300 martyred for his stand for the truth being taught during the Reformation.

1 Timothy 1:15

I

There is excitement in the streets of London! Who is this upon whom the crowd is pressing as he passes down the Strand? Women throw open the windows and gaze admiringly out; shopkeepers rush from behind their counters to join the throng as it approaches; apprentices fling aside their tools and, from every lane and alley, pour into the street; waggoners rein in their horses and leave them for a moment unattended; the taverns empty as the pro-cession draws near them! Everybody is anxious to catch a glimpse of this man’s face; to hear, if possible, the sound of his voice; or, better still, to clasp his hand as he passes.

For this is Hugh Latimer; the terror of evil-doers; the idol of the common people; and, to use the phraseology of a chronicler of the period, “the honestest man in England.” By sheer force of character he has raised himself from a ploughman’s cottage to a bishop’s palace–an achievement that, in the sixteenth century, stands without precedent or parallel. “My father was a yeoman,” he says, in the course of a sermon preached before the King, “my father was a yeoman, and had no lands of his own; he had a farm of three or four pounds a year at the utmost, and hereupon he tilled so much as kept half-a-dozen men. He had walk for a hundred sheep; and my mother milked thirty kine. He kept me at school, or else I had not been able to have preached before the King’s majesty now.” Nor has his elevation spoiled him. He has borne with him in his exaltations the spirit of the common people. He feels as they feel; he thinks as they think; he even speaks as they speak. It was said of him, as of his Master, that the common people heard him gladly. In cathedral pulpits and royal chapels he speaks a dialect that the common people can readily understand; he uses homely illustrations gathered from the farm, the kitchen and the counting-house; he studiously eschews the pedantries of the schoolmen and the subtleties of the theologians.

His sermons are, as Macaulay says, “the plain talk of a plain man, who sprang from the body of the people, who sympathized strongly with their wants and their feelings, and who boldly uttered their opinions.” It was on account of the fearless way in which stout-hearted old Hugh exposed the misdeeds of men in ermine tippets and gold collars that the Londoners cheered him as he walked down the Strand to preach at Whitehall, struggled for a touch of his gown, and bawled, “Have at them, Father Latimer!” There he goes, then; a man of sound sense, honest affection, earnest purpose and sturdy speech; a man whose pale face, stooping figure and emaciated frame show that it has cost him something to struggle upwards from the ploughshare to the palace; a man who looks for all the world like some old Hebrew prophet transplanted incongruously into the prosaic life of London! He passes down the Strand with the people surging fondly around him. He loves the people, and is pleased with their confidence in him. His heart is simple enough and human enough to find the sweetest of all music in the plaudits that are ringing in his ears. So much for London; we must go to Oxford!

II

There is excitement in the streets of Oxford! Who is this upon whom the crowd is pressing as he passes down from the Mayor’s house to the open ground in front of Balliol College? Again, women are leaning out of the windows; shopkeepers are forsaking their counters; apprentices are throwing aside their tools; and drivers are deserting their horses that they may stare at him. It is Hugh Latimer again! He is a little thinner than when we saw him in London; for he has exchanged a palace for a prison. The people still press upon him and make progress difficult; but this time they crowd around him that they may curse him!

It is the old story of “Hosanna!” one day and “Away with Him! Crucify Him!” the next. The multitude is a fickle master. Since we saw him in the Strand, the crown has passed from one head to another; the court has changed its ways to gratify the whims of its new mistress; the Government has swung round to match the moods of the court; and the people, like sheep, have followed their leaders. They are prepared now to crown the men whom before they would have crucified, and to crucify the men whom they would then have crowned. But Hugh Latimer and his companion–for this time he is not alone–are not of the same accommodating temper. Hugh Latimer is still “the honestest man in England!” His conscience is still his only monitor; his tongue is still free; his soul is not for sale! And so:

In Oxford town the faggots they piled,

With furious haste and with curses wild,

Round two brave men of our British breed,

Who dared to stand true to their speech and deed;

Round two brave men of that sturdy race,

Who with tremorless souls the worst can face;

Round two brave souls who could keep their tryst

Through a pathway of fire to follow Christ.

And the flames leaped up, but the blinding smoke

Could not the soul of Hugh Latimer choke;

For, said he, “Brother Ridley, be of good cheer,

A candle in England is lighted here,

Which by grace of God shall never go out!”–

And that speech in whispers was echoed about–

Latimer’s Light shall never go out,

However the winds may blow it about

Latimer’s Light has come to stay

Till the trump of a coming judgment day.

“Bishop Ridley,” so runs the record, “first entered the lists, dressed in his Episcopal habit; and, soon after, Bishop Latimer, dressed, as usual, in his prison garb. Master Latimer now suffered the keeper to pull off his prison-garb and then he appeared in his shroud. Being ready, he fervently recommended his soul to God, and then he delivered himself to the executioner, saying to the Bishop of London these prophetical words: ‘We shall this day, my lord, light such a candle in England as shall never be extinguished!’”

But it is time that we went back forty years or so, to a time long before either of the processions that we have just witnessed took place. We must ascertain at what flame the light that kindled that candle was itself ignited.

III

Very early in the sixteenth century, England was visited by one of the greatest scholars of the Renaissance, Desiderius Erasmus. After being welcomed with open arms at the Universities, he returned to the Continent and engrossed himself in his learned researches. At Cambridge, however, he had made a profound and indelible impression on at least one of the scholars. Thomas Bilney, familiarly known as “Little Bilney,” was feeling, in a vague and indefinite way, the emptiness of the religion that he had been taught. He felt that Erasmus possessed a secret that was hidden from English eyes, and he vowed that, whatever it might cost him, he would purchase every line that came from the great master’s pen.

In France, Erasmus translated the New Testament into Latin. The ingenuity and industry of Bilney soon secured for him a copy of the book. As to its effect upon him, he shall speak for himself. “My soul was sick,” he says, “and I longed for peace, but nowhere could I find it. I went to the priests, and they appointed me penances and pilgrimages; yet, by these things my poor sick soul was nothing profited. But at last I heard of Jesus. It was then, when first the New Testament was set forth by Erasmus, that the light came. I bought the book, being drawn thereto rather by the Latin than by the Word of God, for at that time I knew not what the Word of God meant. And, on the first reading of it, as I well remember, I chanced upon these words, This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief. That one sentence, through God’s inward working, did so lift up my poor bruised spirit that the very bones within me leaped for joy and gladness. It was as if, after a long, dark night, day had suddenly broke!” But what has all this to do with Hugh Latimer?

IV

In those days Latimer was preaching at Cambridge, and all who heard him fell under the spell of his transparent honesty and rugged eloquence. Latimer was then the sturdy champion of the old religion and the uncompromising foe of all who were endeavoring to introduce the new learning. Of all the friars, he was the most punctilious, the most zealous, the most devoted. Bilney went to hear him and fell in love with him at once. He saw that the preacher was mistaken; that his eyes had not been opened to the sublimities that had flooded his own soul with gladness; but he recognized his sincerity, his earnestness and his resistless power; and he longed to be the instrument of his illumination. If only he could do for Latimer what Aquila and Priscilla did for Apollos, and expound unto him the way of God more perfectly! It became the dream and desire of Bilney’s life. “0 God,” he cried, “I am but ‘Little Bilney,’ and shall never do any great thing for Thee; but give me the soul of that man, Hugh Latimer, and what wonders he shall do in Thy most holy Name!”

Where there’s a will there’s a way! One day, as Latimer descends from the pulpit, he passes so close to Bilney that his robes almost brush the student’s face. Like a flash, a sudden inspiration leaps to Bilney’s mind. “Pray thee, Father Latimer,” he whispers, “may I confess my soul to thee?” The preacher beckons, and, into the quiet room adjoining, the student follows. Of all the strange stories that heartbroken penitents have poured into the ears of Father-Confessors since first the confessional was established, that was the strangest! Bilney falls on his knees at Latimer’s feet and allows his soul, pent up for so long, to utter itself freely at last. He tells of the aching hunger of his heart; he tells of the visit of Erasmus; he tells of the purchase of the book; and then he tells of the text. “There it stood,” he says, the tears standing in his eyes, “the very word I wanted. It seemed to be written in letters of light: This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” “0 Father Latimer,” he cries, the passion of his fervor increasing as the memory of his own experience rushes back upon him, “I went to the priests and they pointed me to broken cisterns that held no water and only mocked my thirst! I bore the load of my sins until my soul was crushed beneath the burden! And then I saw that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief; and now, being justified by faith, I have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ!”

Latimer is taken by storm. He is completely overwhelmed. He, too, knows the aching dissatisfaction that Bilney has described. He has experienced for years the same insatiable hunger, the same devouring thirst. To the astonishment of Bilney, Latimer rises and then kneels beside him. The Father-Confessor seeks guidance from his penitent! Bilney draws from his pocket the sacred volume that has brought such comfort and such rapture to his own soul. It falls open at the passage Bilney has read to himself over and over and over again: This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief. The light that never was on the sea or shore illumines the soul of Hugh Latimer, and Bilney sees that the passionate desire of his heart has been granted him. And from that hour, Bilney and Latimer lived only that they might unfold to all kinds and conditions, the unsearchable riches of Christ.

V

It is worthy of all acceptation! It is worthy! It is worthy of your acceptance, your Majesty, for this proclamation craves no patronage! It is worthy of your acceptance , your Excellency, your Grace, my Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen all, for the gospel asks no favors! It is worthy, worthy, worthy of the acceptance of you all! Hugh Latimer stood before kings and courtiers, and declared that this is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. Never once did he forget the dignity of his message: it was faithful; it was worthy in its own right of the acceptance of the lordiest; and he himself staked his life upon it at the last!

VI

Dr. Archibald Alexander of Princeton, was for sixty years a minister of Christ; and for forty of those years, he was a Professor of Divinity. No man in America was more revered or beloved. He died on October 22, 1851. As he lay dying, he was heard by a friend to say, “All my theology is reduced to a narrow compass: This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”

In life and in death, Hugh Latimer was of pretty much the same mind.

edited and excerpted from Frank Boreham’s Life Verses.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in Frank Boreham |

The Necessity of Christ’s Death by Stephen Charnock

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

Ought not Christ to have suffered these

things; and to enter into his glory?

Luke 24:26.

1. Let us here see the evil of sin. Nothing more fit to show the baseness of sin, and the greatness of the misery by it, than the satisfaction due for it; as the greatness of a disease is seen by the force of the medicine, and the value of the commodity by the greatness of the price it cost The sufferings of Christ express the evil of sin, far above the severest judgments upon any creature, both in regard of the greatness of the person, and the bitterness of the suffering. The dying groans of Christ show the horrible nature of sin in the eye of God; as he was greater than the world, so his sufferings declare sin to be the greatest evil in the world. How evil is that sin that must make God bleed to cure it! To see the Son of God haled to death for sin, is the greatest piece of justice that ever God executed. The earth trembled under the weight of God’s wrath when he punished Christ, and the heavens were dark as though they were shut to him, and he cries and groans, and no relief appears; nothing but sin was the procuring meritorious cause of this.

The Son of God was slain by the sin of the fallen creature; had there been any other way to expiate so great an evil, had it stood with the honor of God, who is inclined to pardon, to remit sin without a compensation by death, we cannot think he would have consented that his Son should undergo so great a suffering. Not all the powers in heaven and earth could bring us into favor again, without the death of some great sacrifice to preserve the honor of God’s veracity and justice; not the gracious interposition of Christ, without becoming mortal, and drinking in the vials of wrath, could allay divine justice; not his intercessions, without enduring the strokes due to us, could remove the misery of the fallen creature. All the holiness of Christ’s life, his innocence and good works, did not redeem us without death. It was by this he made an atonement for our sins, satisfied the revenging justice of his Father, and recovered us from a spiritual and inevitable death. How great were our crimes, that could not be wiped off by the works of a pure creature, or the holiness of Christ’s life, but required the effusion of the blood of the Son of God for the discharge of them! Christ in his dying was dealt with by God as a sinner, as one standing in our stead, otherwise he could not have been subject to death. For he had no sin of his own, and “death is the wages of sin,” Rom. 6:23. It had not consisted with the goodness and righteousness of Cod as Creator, to afflict any creature with out a cause, nor with his infinite love to his Son to bruise him for nothing. Some moral evil must therefore be the cause; for no physical evil is inflicted without some moral evil preceding. Death, being a punishment, supposeth a fault Christ, having no crime of his own, must then be a sufferer for ours: “Our sins were laid upon him,” Isa. 53:6, or transferred upon him. We see then how hateful sin is to God, and therefore it should be abominable to us. We should view sin in the sufferings of the Redeemer, and then think it amiable if we can.

Shall we then nourish sin in our hearts? This is to make much of the nails that pierced his hands, and the thorns that pricked his head, and make his dying groans the matter of our pleasure. It is to pull down a Christ that hath suffered, to suffer again; a Christ that is raised, and ascended, sitting at the right hand of God, again to the earth; to lift him upon another cross, and overwhelm him in a second grave. Our hearts should break at the consideration of the necessity of his death. We should open the heart of our sins by repentance, as the heart of Christ was opened by the spear. This does an Ought not Christ to die? teach us.

2. Let us not set up our rest in anything in ourselves, not in anything below a dying Christ; not in repentance or reformation. Repentance is a condition of pardon, not a satisfaction of justice; it sometimes moves the divine goodness to turn away judgment, but it is no compensation to divine justice. There is not that good in repentance as there is wrong in the sin repented of, and satisfaction must have something of equality, both to the injury and the person injured; the satisfaction that is enough for a private person wronged is not enough for a justly offended prince; for the greatness of the wrong mounts by the dignity of the person. None can be greater than God, and therefore no offense can be so full of evil as offenses against God; and shall a few tears be sufficient in any one’s thoughts to wipe them off? The wrong done to God by sin is of a higher degree than to be compensated by all the good works of creatures, though of the highest elevation. Is the repentance of any soul so perfect as to be able to answer the punishment the justice of God requires in the law? And what if the grace of God help us in our repentance? It cannot be concluded from thence that our pardon is formally procured by repentance, but that we are disposed by it to receive and value a pardon. It is not congruous to the wisdom and righteousness of God to bestow pardons upon obstinate rebels. Repentance is nowhere said to expiate sin; a “broken heart is called a sacrifice,” Ps. 51:17, but not a propitiatory one. David’s sin was expiated before he penned that psalm, 2 Sam. 12:13.

Though a man could weep as many tears as there are drops of water contained in the ocean, send up as many volleys of prayers as there have been groans issuing from any creature since the foundation of the world; though he could bleed as many drops from his heart as have been poured out from the veins of sacrificed beasts, both in Judea and all other parts of the world; though he were able, and did actually bestow in charity all the metals in the mines of Peru: yet could not this absolve him from the least guilt, nor cleanse him from the least filth, nor procure the pardon of the least crime by any intrinsic value in the acts themselves; the very acts, as well as the persons, might fall under the censure of consuming justice. The death of Christ only procures us life. The blood of Christ only doth quench that just fire sin had kindled in the breast of God against us. To aim at any other way for the appeasing of God, than the death of Christ, is to make the cross of Christ of no effect. This we are to learn from an Ought not Christ to die?

3. Therefore, let us be sensible of the necessity of an interest in the Redeemer’s death. Let us not think to drink the waters of salvation out of our own cisterns, but out of Christ’s wounds. Not to draw life out of our own dead duties, but Christ’s dying groans. We have guilt, can we expiate it ourselves? We are under justice. Can we appease it by any thing we can do? There is an enmity between God and us. Can we offer him anything worthy to gain his friendship? Our natures are corrupted, can we heal them? Our services are polluted, can we cleanse them? There is as great a necessity for us to apply the death of Christ for all those, as there was for him to undergo it. The leper was not cleansed and cured by the shedding the blood of the sacrifice for him, but the sprinkling the blood of the sacrifice upon him, Lev. 14: 7. As the death of Christ was foretold as the meritorious cause, so the sprinkling of his blood was foretold as the formal cause of our happiness, Isa. 52:15. By his own blood, he entered into heaven and glory, and by nothing but his blood can we have the boldness to expect it, or the confidence to attain it, Heb. 10:19. The whole doctrine of the gospel of Christ crucified, 1 Cor. 1:23, and the whole confidence of a Christian should be Christ crucified. God would not have mercy exercised with a neglect of justice by man, though to a miserable client: Lev. 19:15, “Thou shalt not respect the person of the poor in judgment.” Shall God who is infinitely just, neglect rule himself? No man is an object of mercy till he presents a satisfaction to justice. As there is a perfection in God, which we call mercy, which exacts faith and repentance of his creature before he will bestow a pardon, so there is another perfection of vindictive justice that requires also the content of his justice.

The fallen angels, therefore, have no mercy granted to them, because none ever satisfied the justice of God for them. Let us not, therefore, coin new ways of procuring pardon, and false modes of appeasing the justice of God. What can we find besides this, able to contend against everlasting burnings? What refuge can there be besides this to shelter us from the fierceness of divine wrath? Can our tears and prayers be more prevalent than the cries and tears of Christ, who could not, by all the strength of them, divert death from himself, without our eternal loss? No way but faith in his blood. God in the gospel sends us to Christ, and Christ by the gospel brings us to God.

4. Let us value this Redeemer, and redemption by his death. Since God was resolved to see his Son plunged into an estate of disgraceful emptiness, clothed with the form of a servant, and exposed to the sufferings of a painful cross, rather than leave sin unpunished, we should never think of it without thankful returns, both to the judge and the sacrifice. What was he afflicted for, but to procure our peace? bruised for, but to heal our wounds? brought before an earthly judge to be condemned, but that we might be brought before a heavenly judge to be absolved? fell under the pains of death, but to knock off from us the shackles of hell? and became accursed in death, but that we might be blessed with eternal life? Without this our misery had been irreparable, our distance from God perpetual. What commerce could we have had with God, while we were separated from him by crimes on our part, and justice on his? The wall must be broken down, death must be suffered, that justice might be silenced, and the goodness of God be again communicative to us.

This was the wonder of divine love, to be pleased with the sufferings of his only Son, that he might be pleased with us upon the account of those sufferings. Our redemption in such a way, as by the death and blood of Christ, was not a bare grace. It had been so, had it been only redemption; but being a redemption by the blood of God, it deserves from the apostle no less a title than riches of grace, Eph. 1:7. And it deserves and expects no less from us than such high acknowledgments. This we may learn from Ought not Christ to die.

Posted in Stephen Charnock |

The Mediation of Christ by A. W. Pink

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

“For there is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Tim. 2:5). Some unregenerate men who deny the God-head of Christ, imagine they find something in this verse which supports their system of infidelity, but this only serves to make the more evident the fearful blindness of their minds. As well might they reason from Gal. 1:1 (where we read, “Paul, an apostle, not of men, neither by man, but by Jesus Christ”) that the Lord Jesus is not Man, as to infer from 1 Tim. 2:5 that He is not God. As we shall show in what follows, none could possibly heal the breach between God and men save one who partook of each of their natures.

“For there is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” “In that great difference between God and men occasioned by our sin and apostasy from Him, which of itself could issue in nothing but the utter ruin of the whole race of mankind, there was none in heaven or earth, in their original nature and operations, who was meet or able to make up a peace between them. Yet this must be done by a mediator, or cease forever. This mediator could not be God Himself absolutely considered, for “a mediator is not of one, but God is one” (Gal. 3:20). And as for creatures, there was none in heaven or earth, there was none meet to undertake this office. ‘For if one man sin against another, the judge shall judge him; but if a man sin against the lord, who shall intreat for him?’: 1 Sam. 2:25″ (J. Owen, 1680).

In view of this state of things, the eternal Son, out of love for His Father and that people which had been given to Him, volunteered to enter the office and serve as Mediator. It is to this that Phil. 2:7 refers, where we are told that He “made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men.” The susception (“taking upon him”) of our nature for the discharge of the mediatorial office therein, was an act of infinite condescension, wherein He is exceedingly glorious in the eyes of His saints. To quote again from the eminent Puritan:

“Such is the transcendent excellency of the Divine nature, It is said of God that, ‘He dwelleth on High, and humbleth Himself to behold the things that are in heaven and in the earth’ (Psa. 113:5,6). All His respect unto creatures, the most glorious, was an act of infinite condescension. And it is so on two accounts. First, because of the infinite distance there is between His being, and that of the creature. Hence ‘all nations before Him are as a drop of a bucket.’ Second, because of His infinite self-sufficiency unto all the acts and ends of His own eternal blessedness. What we have a desire unto, is that It may add to our satisfaction, for no creature is self-sufficient unto its own blessedness. God alone wants nothing, and stands in need of nothing; see Job 35:5-6. God hath infinite perfections in Himself.

How glorious, then, is the Son of God in His susception (“taking upon him”) of the office of mediator! For if such be the perfection of the Divine nature, and its distance Is so absolutely infinite from the whole creation, and if such be His self-sufficiency unto His own eternal blessedness, so that nothing can be taken from Him, nothing added unto Him, so that every regard to Him unto any of His creatures, is an act of self-condescension from the prerogative of His being and state; what heart can conceive, what tongue can express the glory of that condescension in the Son of God, whereby He took our nature upon Him took it to be His own, in order to a discharge of the office of Mediator in our behalf!” Nothing but love, love unfathomable, to His Father and to His people could have moved Him thereunto.

When we speak of Christ as Mediator, we always think of Him as God and man in one Person, and that His two natures, though infinitely distinct are not to be separated. As God, without a human nature united to His Divine person, He would be too high to sustain the character or to perform the work of a servant, and, as such, to yield to the law that obedience which was incumbent upon Him as Mediator. So, on the other hand, to be man, or merely a creature, would be too low, and altogether inconsistent with that infinite value and dignity which must be put upon the work He was to perform. Therefore none but God incarnate, possessing two natures, was qualified to act as Mediator. Let us amplify this important consideration with a few details.

First, it was necessary that the Mediator should be a Divine person. “It was requisite that the Mediator should be God, that He might sustain and keep the human nature from sinking under the infinite wrath of God and the power of death; give worth and efficacy to His sufferings, obedience, and intercession; and to satisfy God’s justice, procure His favor, purchase a peculiar people, give His Spirit to them, conquer all their enemies, and bring them to everlasting salvation” (Westminster Catechism, 1643).

None but God can give eternal life, and therefore none but a Divine person could be a real Savior of those who were dead in sins (John 10:27,28). Again; “For man to glory in any one as his Savior, and give him the honor of the new creation, to resign himself to His pleasure, arid become His property, and say to Him, Thou art Lord of my soul, is an honor to which no mere creature can have the least claim. ‘In Jehovah shall all the seed of Israel be justified and shall glory,’ Isa. 45:25” (H. Witsius, 1693).

Second, it was necessary that the Mediator should be a human person. “It was requisite that the Mediator should be man, that He might advance our nature, perform obedience to the law, suffer, and make intercession for us in our nature, having a fellow-feeling of our infirmities, that we might receive the adoption of sons, and have comfort and access with boldness unto the throne of grace” (Westminster Catechism). The law of God requires the love of our neighbor, but none is our neighbor but who is of the same blood with us: therefore before our Surety could satisfy the law for us, He must become man. So too He needed to take on Him our nature in order to our being united to Him in one body, and He made members of His flesh and of His bones” (Eph. 5:30).

Third, it was necessary that the Mediator should be God and man in one person. “It was requisite that the Mediator, who was to reconcile God and man, should Himself be both God and man, and this in one person; that the proper works of each nature might be accepted of God for us, and relied on by us, as the works of the whole person” (Westminster Catechism). Had He been God only, He could not have died. Had He been man only, He could not have merited for and bestowed the Holy Spirit upon all His people. Had He not been the God-man, our redemption would have been brought about by two persons! Therefore did the eternal Word become flesh (John 1:14) — forever be His name adored!

Now inasmuch as the Mediator is God and man in one Person, it follows that various things may be truly stated concerning, or applied to Him, which are infinitely opposite to each other, namely: that He has all power and wisdom as it concerns His Deity, and yet that He is weak and finite as respects His humanity. In one nature He is equal with the Father, and so receives nothing from Him, nor is under any obligation to yield obedience. In His other nature He is inferior to the Father, and so receives all things from Him. Here then is what makes it manifest that there is no contradiction between John 10:30 and 14:28: as the second person of the Trinity, He could say, “I and my Father are one”; as the God-man Mediator, “My Father is greater than I.” Such verses as Matt. 11:27; 28:18; John 17:5; 1 Cor. 15:28; Eph. 1:22, 23; Rev. 1:1, etc., all speak of Him as “the Mediator!”

In seeking to make practical application of this blessed theme, we cannot do better than quote the following words: “Think of it, my brother, I entreat you, upon every occasion when drawing near to the throne of grace, through that channel by which alone you can approach the throne–through the mediation of Jesus; and in that recollection may the Lord strengthen your hands and heart. That almighty Friend we now have in heaven, in whose hands all our high interests are placed, though once ‘Man of sorrows,’ was, and is, no less, at the same time, one with the Father, ‘over all God blessed forever,’ Rom. 2:5” (R. Hawker, 1825). May the Lord be pleased to add His blessing to this meditation.

From Studies in the Scriptures, January 1932.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact

Posted in A. W. Pink |

The Blood Shedding by C. H. Spurgeon

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

I will show you three fools. One is yonder soldier, who has been wounded on the field of battle, grievously wounded, well nigh unto death; the surgeon is by his side, and the soldier asks him a question. Listen, and judge of his folly. What question does he ask? Does he raise his eyes with eager anxiety and inquire if the practitioner’s skill can suggest the means of healing, or if the remedies are within reach and the medicine at hand? No, nothing of the sort; strange to tell, he asks, “Can you inform me with what sword I was wounded, and by what Russian I have been thus grievously mauled? I want,” he adds, “to learn every minute particular respecting the origin of my wound.” The man is delirious. Such questions at such a time are proof that he is bereft of his senses.

There is another fool. The storm is raging, the ship flying impetuous before the gale, the masts are creaking, the sails are rent to rags, and still the gathering tempest grows more fierce. Where is the captain? Is he busily engaged on the deck, manfully facing the danger, and skillfully suggesting the means to avert it? No, he has retired to his cabin, and there with studious thoughts is speculating on where the storm took its rise. “It is mysterious, this wind; no one ever yet,” he says, “has been able to discover it.” And, so reckless of the vessel, the lives of the passengers, and his own life, he is careful only to solve his curious questions. Take the rudder from his hand, he is clean gone mad!

The third fool I shall doubtless find among yourselves. You are sick and wounded with sin, you are in the storm and the hurricane of Almighty vengeance, and yet the question you would ask of me, would be, “Sir, what is the origin of evil?” You are spiritually mad; that is not the question you would ask if you were in a sane and healthy state of mind; your question would be: “How can I get rid of this evil?” Not, “How did it come into the world?” but, “How am I to escape from it?” Not, “How is it that I am sick,” but, “Are there medicines what will heal me?” “Is there a physician to be found that can restore my soul to health?”

The broad fact is this, your question should be, “How can I escape from the wrath to come?” In answering that question, [Hebrews 9:22–“without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sin] stands right in the middle of the way. Your real want is to know how you can be saved; if you are aware that your sin must be [either] pardoned or punished, your question will be, “How can it be pardoned?” and then point blank in the very teeth of your inquiry stands out this fact: “without the shedding of blood, there is no remission.” But some men will say that God’s way of saving men, by the shedding of blood, is a cruel way, an unjust way, an unkind way; and all kinds of things they will say of it. Sirs, I have nothing to do with your opinion of the matter; it is so. If you have any faults to find with your Maker, fight your battles out with him at last. . . . The doctrine of the atonement, when rightly understood and faithfully received, is delightful, for it exhibits boundless love, immeasurable goodness, and infinite truth; but to unbelievers it will always be a hated doctrine.

Note how decisive this is in its character. “Without the shedding of blood, there is no remission.” “But, sir, can’t I get my sins forgiven by my repentance? If I weep, and plead, and pray, will not God forgive me for the sake of my tears?” “No remission,” says the text, “without the shedding of blood.” “But, sir, if I never sin again, and if I serve God more zealously than other men, will he not forgive me for the sake of my obedience?” “No remission,” says the text, “without the shedding of blood.” “But, sir, may I not trust that God is merciful, and will forgive me without the shedding of blood?” “No,” says the text, “without the shedding of blood, there is no remission;” none whatever. It cuts off ever other hope. Bring your hopes here, and if they are not based in blood, they are as useless as castles in the air, and dreams at night.

Note again how universal it is in its character. “What! may I not get remission without blood-shedding?” says the king; and he comes with the crown on his head; “May not I in all my robes, with this rich ransom, get pardon without blood-shedding?” “None,” is the reply, “None.” Forthwith comes the wise man, with a number of learnings after his name. “Can I not get remission by these grand titles of my learning?” “None, none.” Then comes the benevolent man. “I have dispersed my money to the poor, and given my bounty to feed them; shall I not get remission?” “None;” says the text, “without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sin.” How this puts everyone on a level! No hope for the best, any more than for the worst, without the shedding of blood. Oh! I love the gospel, because it is a leveling gospel.

Mark too, how perpetual my text is. Paul said, “there is no remission;” I must repeat this testimony too. When thousands of years have rolled away, some minister may stand on this spot and say the same. This will never alter at all, in the next world as well as this: no remission without the shedding of blood. The fact is, beloved, there is no use for you to satisfy your hearts with anything less than what satisfied God the Father. Without the shedding of blood, nothing would appease his justice; without the application of that same blood, nothing can purge your consciences.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in C. H. Spurgeon |

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