Bound for Judgment
NEEDLESS to say that all the Lord's parables are not only striking, but are intended to unfold truths of the deepest importance. The marriage of the king's son is one of them. God's purpose is to celebrate in heaven the marriage of the Lamb, and hence He sends forth His servants to call those who were bidden to the wedding, but we read "they would not come." This was the way that Israel treated God's loving invitation when Christ was here, and this is still their attitude, although redemption is an accomplished fact, since Christ has died and risen again.
God's super-abounding grace, however, is not thwarted by man's opposition, and hence other servants went forth with the good news that "all things are ready; come unto the marriage.”
Positive refusal, however, at the first, and utter indifference now still mark the Jew; and for nineteen centuries the story of redeeming love has rung in their ears almost entirely unheeded. Spite of God's own words, "I have prepared my dinner; my oxen and fatlings are killed," the Lord Himself tells us how His grace is treated: "They made light of it, and went their ways.”
Alas! how true it is that men, both then and now, are all too busy with this world's passing dreams to take the smallest interest in, or care for the future. So one goes to his farm, another to his merchandise, and money becomes man's idol, which he fondly worships, while his soul, through neglect, is perishing. Not only this, but God's faithful servants who took the message of His love to these careless ones, were themselves spitefully entreated and slain. But when the king heard it he was wroth, and sent forth his armies, and destroyed these murderers and burned up their city (Matt. 23.).
But is God's abounding grace to find no response in this poor, dark world, where His own Son was Himself foully murdered and crucified by wicked hands? Nay, nay; the rejection of their Messiah by the Jew was but the occasion on God's part for the display of still further grace to the Gentile. Hence fresh servants are sent forth by the king, and this time the highways and hedges are searched that as many as are found, whether good or bad, may be invited to the marriage.
Dear reader, has not this loving invitation many a time rung in your ears? How are you treating it? Is it that you positively, and openly, reject God's grace; or are you utterly careless and indifferent? If you live, or die, in either of these conditions, there is nothing left for you but eternal sorrow with only yourself to blame. Others, of all sorts and conditions, will most surely be found at that heavenly marriage, but the question for you is, '' Shall I be there? “Forget not, however, that if you would be there, one condition is absolutely essential; and that is, you must personally wear the wedding garment provided by the king, which is His own free gift, and must be worn by every guest.
The hour draws nigh; and when the wedding was duly furnished with guests the doors of the banqueting hall open, and the king comes in. What a festive scene it is, and all in honor of the king's son! But, lo! a sudden change ensues, and a solemn silence creeps over the assembled company, as the king's eyes are suddenly arrested by the presence of "a man who had not on a wedding garment.”
Could there be a greater insult to the king than this, when all was free and when his love had not only spread the feast but provided the very garment which alone was suited to himself on such an occasion? Solemnly fell the words from the king's lips, "Friend, how earnest thou in hither, not having a wedding garment" And he was speechless. How could it be otherwise? Detected in his folly, and left without excuse, he is quickly sentenced. "Bind him hand and foot," is the king's command, " take him away and cast him into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
How infinitely solemn is the whole scene, and, oh, how unspeakably awful the sudden change from light to darkness! Such, however, must necessarily be the certain doom of the mere professor; and these are they who, in their folly, prefer something of their own to the garment of divine righteousness, which all must wear who will hereafter be found at the heavenly marriage of the king's son. "Bound for judgment" by the king's decree, the lifeless professor goes to his true home, which the Lord calls "outer darkness." Reader, will you be there?
Loosed for Liberty
How vast is the contrast between the joy of a wedding feast, and the silence of the tomb! Both appeal to our hearts, but, oh, in what a different way! As regards the death of a believer, however, Scripture calls it "sleep"; and, in the case of Lazarus Jesus says, "I go that I may awake him out of sleep." Yet whenever the "Prince of life" asserted His power, death was compelled to yield its prey. How wonderful are all the ways of Jesus, and how various!
Was not His word all-sufficient to prevent death when the nobleman's son was about to die in Cana of Galilee? On the other hand, the little twelve-year-old daughter of Jairus had already expired before the Lord reached the house; but as those gracious words, "Talitha cumi," fell from the lips of the Prince of life, death released its prey, and the damsel arose, and received food. On yet another occasion how sweetly blended were divine sympathy and power as the funeral procession of the widow's son passed out of the gates of the city of Nain on its way to the tomb. That tomb, however, was not reached that day, for the lonely widow's tears were dried by the comforting words of the Saviour; and, oh, the joy that filled the mother's heart as she beheld her only son restored to life and arising from the bier, responsive to the divine command of the Prince of life.
Such is Jesus, at whose word and touch sorrow and death alike flee away, and well may we rejoice as we read those precious words, "Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus." Yet, in obedience to His Father's will, and that the Son of God might be glorified, He, who is the "Resurrection and the Life," permits two days to elapse before He goes to Bethany. Weeping with those that weep, and fully entering, in His divine sympathy, into all the sorrow, of those He so dearly loved, the Man of sorrows, groaning in spirit, draws near to the grave where His friend Lazarus slept. Giving thanks to His Father, the voice of the Life-giver breaks the silence, and as those mighty words, "Lazarus, come forth," burst from His lips, the corrupting body, which had then been dead four days, leaves the cave, to the intense joy of the two dear sisters' hearts.
Thus death again is overcome by the Prince of life, for "he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave-clothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin." "Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go." Life indeed is sweet, but liberty is sweeter still; yet, how many there are to-day who possess the one but not the other. To walk about, however, in spiritual grave-clothes seems strange indeed for those who will presently appear at the marriage of the king's son, robed in that royal garment of divine righteousness which the king's love has promised now for all who are willing to put it on. Yokes of bondage and legal doubts and fears are the spiritual grave-clothes which are seen on many to-day; but is it not better to "stand fast in that liberty wherewith Christ maketh free"? A risen Christ is now the believer's life; but peace, joy and liberty are what characterize the presence of the indwelling Spirit of God, who works in the hearts of all those who follow His teaching and guidance.
S. T.