(Read Gen. 3; Luke 23:39-4339And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us. 40But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? 41And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss. 42And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. 43And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise. (Luke 23:39‑43).)
There are few titles more familiar to general readers, than “Paradise Lost,” and “Paradise Regained.” The subjects are all-important. None can be more so to an immortal soul. But the plain truth of God sets them in a light, infinitely clearer and simpler, than all the poetry of man. The ruin and the recovery are soon told. Through disbelieving God’s word, and distrusting His goodness, the paradise of man was lost. Through believing God’s word, and trusting His goodness, the paradise of God is found. In place of Eve holding fast by the truth of God, and confiding in His unchangeable favor, she gave heed to the lie of Satan. In place of instantly repelling his wicked suggestion, she listened to it — she entertained it. This was the beginning of all the mischief.
The enemy so beguiled Eve, that she began to doubt both the goodness and the word of God. She was off the ground of dependence on Him — she had taken herself out of His hands. Unbelief separates from the living God, and so brings in death; faith unites to Him, and so brings in eternal life. Her course, from the moment she admitted the infidel doubt of the father of lies, was downward and rapid. She disbelieved — she disobeyed — she sinned — she fell, and all her posterity with her. The bloom of Eden was blighted forever, and the whole creation laid in ruins.
The deceiver sought, first of all, by a vile insinuation, to shake her confidence in the goodness of God. “Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?” Here, he merely raises a question — suggests a doubt. So serpent-like, and so like his wiles to this day. As if he had said: “Can this be love? Is it kindness to forbid you the fruit of a tree, which the Creator knows would make you as Gods? But has he really said so? Is this what He means?” Eve, alas, alas, hesitated! Fatal moment! In place of affirming that God had made all this bright and beautiful paradise on purpose for them, she allowed the suggestion to work on her mind — she lost hold of God’s truth, and embraced Satan’s falsehood. God had spoken — she had His word — that should have been enough. It was victorious with Jesus in the temptation in the wilderness. “It is written. It is written,” was the firm ground on which He stood and vanquished the enemy. But the seeds of distrust in God and carelessness about His word, were now sown in her heart, which have borne in her offspring, their terrible fruits ever since.
The enemy now becomes more open through Eve listening to him. He flatly contradicts the word of God. “Ye shall not surely die.” What a bold lie! It is no longer a subtle insinuation. What could Eve have been thinking about, we are ready to inquire, seeing God had plainly said, “For in the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die?” Rather let us ask, what are we thinking about often, when we prefer our own notions to the plain word of God? Have they not their origin in the same quarter, and do they not amount to the same thing? Satan’s suggestions are many, and too often acted on, and the truth of God overlooked, or practically set aside. But he not only contradicts God; he frames a fearful and tempting falsehood. “For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened; and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.” The temptation was too great for poor Eve; pride swelled in her bosom, and she aspired to be as God. “And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof and did eat; and gave also unto her husband with her and he did eat. And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.” The fatal deed was now done! Adam listened to his wife, after she had listened to the serpent. All was lost that a creature could lose. The friendship of God — innocence — dominion — dignity — happiness, all were gone. The unhappy pair have a bad conscience, they run from the presence of God, and seek to patch up a righteousness of their own. Sad fruits of the fall, and of fallen nature in all ages.
God now enters the scene. Adam is afraid, and hides himself behind the trees of the garden. His fig-leaf apron, in place of covering him, is the witness of his guilt and shame. “And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, where art thou?” This was grace — pure grace. Adam was lost, and God was seeking him. This is the great principle of redemption. Man a lost sinner, and God in love seeking him. “For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” Luke 19:1010For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost. (Luke 19:10).
God now reveals in the garden of Eden, the plan of redemption, though obscurely. The woman’s seed is to bruise the serpent’s head. God’s remedy for man’s ruin is at hand! The word of grace reaches the hearts, we doubt not, of the guilty pair. Wondrous grace, indeed. God passes by fallen angels; He pities fallen man. Precious grace! He had been the dupe of a mighty and crafty foe. With the eye of tender mercy, God looks upon him in his fallen, ruined, miserable, helpless state. But while His eye pities, His mighty arm brings salvation. He graciously provides a garment for the naked ones — a garment which has its origin in the death of another. They are no longer naked, either in their own eyes, or in the eyes of others. God’s covering is effectual. The root of the mischief He traces to Satan. “Thou hast done this” But man in his fallen state must not be allowed to eat of the tree of life, and perpetuate a life of misery here below. “So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden, Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.”
Man is now outside the garden of Eden. Sin has driven him beyond the bounds of the earthly paradise. The world he finds to be a wilderness, in which he must toil for his daily bread, but the believer is not left there. God takes him through it, right on to heaven; but the earthly paradise never can be regained. It is henceforth inaccessible to man in his fallen state. The cherubim and the flaming sword guard the entrance to the tree of life. Man can never be innocent again. True, we read in Psalm 26, “I will wash my hands in innocency; so will I compass thine altar, Ο Lord.” But this refers, doubtless, to the consecrated priests of God under the law, who washed their hands and feet at the laver of purification, before entering the holy place. The alone source of life and blessing to sinful man now, is Christ in resurrection. He is God’s only means of deliverance from fallen human nature and all its bitter fruits.
From what we have just witnessed in the garden of Eden, a question of deep importance very naturally suggests itself, namely, How could God, who is infinitely holy and righteous, so graciously meet man — a sinner, who had disobeyed and dishonored Him? This is indeed an important question, and one which personally concerns every child of Adam. In the prediction, “It shall bruise thy head, but thou shalt bruise his heel,” we have the answer. The great work of redemption which was accomplished on Calvary, is shadowed forth, though dimly, in these words. The Savior, Jesus, suffered and died on the cross, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God. The weight of God’s wrath fell on Him for us — Christ died for sinners. On the ground of the work of Christ, which God foresaw would be finished on Calvary, He wrought by His grace in the hearts of the first and fallen pair. He forgave their sin, and blessed them with His salvation, on the ground of the foreknown blood-shedding of Jesus — His own blessed Son.
The cross is both the declaration of the righteousness of God, and the vindication of all His ways, in pardoning love and mercy, from Adam downwards. “To declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God. To declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus.” (Rom. 3:25, 2625Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God; 26To declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus. (Romans 3:25‑26).) This is the only foundation on which God can meet the sinner in peace, grace, and love. But here He can so meet him, consistently with Himself. Christ so glorified God on the cross, and so perfectly blotted out sin, that it is a righteous thing with God to meet the sinner who believes, in perfect grace, and bestow on him that which is due to Christ. From the garden of Eden onwards, God kept before the mind of man, by means of types and shadows, the great work which He purposed accomplishing on Calvary. All who believed God during that period, according to the revelation which He gave of Himself, were justified on earth, and entitled, in virtue of the sacrifice of Christ, to the Paradise of God in heaven.
But the grand illustration, and the formal statement of this glorious truth, was reserved for the solemn scenes of Calvary itself. There we have the complete reversal of the sentence of Eden, in the words of the Lord Himself, to the penitent thief, “Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.” And there, too, we have the complete contradiction of all the misrepresentation of Satan. He insinuated that God did not really love man, and that He grudged him the fruit of a tree in his own garden; but God’s answer to that, on the cross, is — “I freely give my beloved Son to die for my enemies.” On the very spot where the seed of the woman met, in dreadful conflict, the traducer of God and the deceiver of man, the promise and the prophecy of Eden were fulfilled, and its solemn sentence, in the case of all, who believe, formally reversed. There the serpent’s head was bruised, and his whole power completely and forever destroyed. And there, too, was opened up the new and living way, by which God can come down to man in richest blessing; and by which man can go up to God, in the liberty, perfectness, and acceptance of Christ Himself.
The conversion of the thief on the cross, was the occasion of the fuller revelation of these glorious truths. The Lord assured the thief in plainest terms, that he would be with Him that same day in Paradise. At the very moment when Jesus was bearing God’s judgment against sin for us, and opening up the way to the Paradise above, the eyes of this man were opened to see himself a lost sinner, and Jesus the Savior. His heart, too, was now opened to Christ, and his whole soul filled with the thought of the holy sufferer by his side.
In the case of the thief, we have a bright and true example of God’s work of grace in us; and in the person of Jesus, by his side, we see God’s great work of grace for us. But though side by side, how perfectly distinct! And yet they are inseparably connected. The work of grace in the heart of a sinner is founded on the work of Christ for the sinner. It is the Spirit that reveals to the soul the glory of the Person, and the completeness of the work of Christ. The conversion of the poor thief, is a marvelous instance of this truth. Before the change had taken place many moments he bears a noble testimony to Christ, condemns himself and his companion, and gives the lie to the whole world. “This man hath done nothing amiss.” But it does appear, at first sight, most remarkable, that though he bears such a testimony to the sinless sufferer, and himself the chief of sinners, he prays not for the pardon of his own sins. How can we account for this? He was completely absorbed, we believe, with the fullness and glory of the Person of Jesus. He was lost, for the moment, to all but Christ. For it is quite manifest that his conscience was lively and upright. Dost not thou fear God,” he says to his impenitent companion, “seeing thou art in the same condemnation? and we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this man hath done nothing amiss.” He has now but one thought — one desire — that his portion may be with Christ.
Oh! what a scene Calvary presents at this moment! It is covered with a mass of people of all sorts. The world is represented there, and led on by its prince to revile and blaspheme the dying Savior. The two malefactors, at an early period of this awful scene, hearing the revilings, cast the same in His teeth. “The abjects spake against him.” But one of them is converted — one heart is broken — there is now one to shed a tear for Jesus. He testifies for Him, and seeks His blessing. What a cordial for the fainting heart of Jesus. Heaven has sent it. The mention of “paradise,” reminds the desolate sufferer of where He shall soon be. Christ has His right place in the heart of the young convert. “All must be well.” The fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom, is before his eyes. The light of God shines into his soul. Everything is now seen in an entirely new light. Sin, holiness, righteousness, God, himself, Christ, his companion, all are seen in a light which shows things just as they are. But the suffering, dying Savior by his side, is his one grand object. And, oh! precious faith! he throws himself on the heart of Jesus. “Lord, remember me when thou earnest into thy kingdom.” He thinks not of himself, although in all the agonies of the cross. He asks for no relief from his bodily suffering, although he believed Jesus to be Lord. He only asks to be remembered by Him in His kingdom Oh! what holy separation in heart, from self, and sin, and suffering, and everything but Jesus — Lord — the Head of the coming kingdom.
It is perfectly clear from the prayer of the dying malefactor, that he believed the Lord would come again — and come again in power and glory. And this was the more remarkable, because there were no outward signs of power or glory in Jesus crucified. But faith sees as God sees. His own disciples had forsaken and denied Him, but the poor thief owns Him. His kingdom, which had been a subject of scorn and derision, he believes will come again, though at that very moment the King was rejected, and dying between two malefactors. All this is wondrous, marvelous faith! But he was taught of God, and that explains all. In a few moments he travels over an extent of truth far beyond what the apostles knew. He believes in the resurrection; and that Jesus will rise, and come again, in full, manifested, kingly glory.
In the Lord’s reply, his faith is fully justified. He had cast himself on the heart of the Savior, and the resources of that heart were thrown open to him then, and forever. He reveals Himself to His dying saint as more than a king. He is a King, bur He is more—He is a Savior — He is Jesus — the Savior. “Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.” Precious testimony to a dying saint! And, oh! what grace to the chief of sinners! He would not have to wait for the manifested glory of the King, when every eye shall see Him. But, “Today,” and “with me,” were the gracious words of the Savior — Jesus. It was a present salvation. And from that shameful cross he ascends to a Paradise infinitely holier, happier, and brighter, than that from which our first parents, by transgression, fell.
To be continued if the lord will.
“Hark to the trump! behold it breaks
The sleep of ages now:
And lo! the light of glory shines
On many an aching brow.
Changed in a moment — raised to life,
The quick, the dead, arise,
Responsive to the angel’s voice,
That calls us to the skies.
Ascending through the crowded air,
On eagles’ wings we soar,
To dwell in the full light of love,
And sorrow there no more.
Undazzled by the glorious light
Of that beloved brow,
We see, without a single cloud,
We see the Savior now!
Ο Lord, the bright and blessed hope
That cheered us through the past,
Of full eternal rest in thee,
Is all fulfilled at last.
Praise, endless praise, alone becomes
This bright and blessed place,
Where every eye beholds unveiled
The mysteries of thy grace.”