There is a peculiar charm attaching to the way in which truth is presented to us in the Gospels. It is not, of course, a question of the relative value of truth, inasmuch as truth is truth whether we find it in the Gospels or in the Epistles. But then, in the Gospels, the inspired writers present truth in connection with what we may call scenes in actual life. They give us the history of individuals—their exercises, their trials, their difficulties, their questions, their doubts, fears, and mental conflicts.
All this imparts intense interest to the gospel narratives, and tends to rivet the truth upon the heart and understanding. If in the Epistles we have truth didactically unfolded, in the Gospels we have it livingly illustrated.
Now we are all conscious of the charm attaching to a living illustration. It commands the heart and engages the attention. We delight to trace the history of men and women of like passions with ourselves—to be told what they felt and thought and said—to know, upon divine authority, that they had the very same doubts, difficulties, and conflicts that we ourselves have had to encounter—to see how those doubts were removed, those difficulties solved, those conflicts disposed of. Everybody knows how an anecdote, a simple story, a fragment of living history will rivet the attention of an audience which could hardly be kept awake by the unfading of abstract truth.
This may be viewed as a weakness. Be it so; it is a weakness to which the Spirit of God deigns, in infinite grace, to stoop. Scenes from real human life have an ineffable charm for the human heart; and when those scenes are portrayed by the inimitable pen of the Holy Ghost, their interest is intensified to the very highest possible degree. It is perfectly delightful to see how God can mingle and interest Himself in human affairs—how He can, in His matchless grace, enter into all our circumstances, all our thoughts and feelings, all our mental exercises—to see that there is nothing too small for Him to notice—that He can dwell, with marvelous minuteness, upon things which to our mind seem very trivial. All this is eminently calculated to delight and refresh the heart.
If the reader will open his Bible, and turn to John 3, he will find one of these charming narratives above referred to. In it the inspired penman has recorded for our learning the interesting interview between our Lord and Nicodemus—an interview full of the very deepest and most important instruction. We may truly say, If ever there was a moment in the which the history of Nicodemus claimed special attention, it is just now, in this day of man’s proud pretensions, when the utter and hopeless ruin of human nature, and the absolute need of the new birth is so loudly and extensively called in question. The circle is, each clay, becoming wider and wider, in it is fashionable to deny with scorn and proud indignation the total depravity of man, and, as a consequence, the indispensable need of redemption and the new birth—the two things stand or fall together.
If man is not a hopeless ruin, he does not need to be born again. If man does not need to be born again, he is not a hopeless ruin. This is self-evident. Tile two things are inseparable. If human nature is capable of improvement; if there be one redeeming feature in it; if there be aught in it which can be made available—a single ingredient which God can accept; then verily is there no need for redemption and the new birth—then is there no truth in the words, “Ye must be born again”—no truth in the words, The Son of man “hast be lifted up.”
But we must turn to our chapter, and in doing so, we would remind the reader that, in order to seize the full force and import of the opening words, he must view them in immediate connection with the preceding chapter. There we have man, weighed and found wanting; and that, too, under the most favorable circumstances. “There was a marriage in Cana of Galilee; and the mother of Jesus was there. And both Jesus was called and his disciples to the marriage. And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto him, “They have no wine.”
Here human nature is proved to be deficient, at a moment when, if at all, it ought to be able to answer to the demand. “No wine” at the nuptial feast was a striking commentary on man’s state and competency. If there is ever a moment or a scene in man’s history in which he might be expected to yield joy, it is at a marriage feast.
But no; he is found wanting in the presence of Christ. This is the point here. Jesus goes to man’s nuptial feast and finds him incapable of yielding a single particle of joy. “They have no wino.” Such is the humiliating confession. Wine is the symbol of joy; and loan has to own that, even amid the festivities of the bridal hour, he has none.
Some may object and say this is all the merest imagination. We reply, It is not an imagination, but a fact; and a fact, moreover, which speaks in impressive accents to all who have ears to hear. Can we cede, for a moment, the idea that the Holy Ghost has recorded the history of the marriage in Cana of Galileo without a specific design? Impossible. There is a marked object in it, and that is to show not only man’s utter deficiency, but further to prove that he must be a debtor to Jesus for every atom of true joy; and finally, that there can be no joy for men, no joy for Israel, no joy in the earth, until the water of purification is turned into the wine of the kingdom.
But we have still farther proof of man’s ruined condition. “The Jews’ passover was at band, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem, and found in the temple those that sold oxen and sheep and doves, and the changers of money sitting. And when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew the tables; and said unto them that sold doves, Take these things hence; make not my Father’s house an house of merchandise.” John 2:13-1613And the Jews' passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem, 14And found in the temple those that sold oxen and sheep and doves, and the changers of money sitting: 15And when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers' money, and overthrew the tables; 16And said unto them that sold doves, Take these things hence; make not my Father's house an house of merchandise. (John 2:13‑16).
Here we have the wickedness of man’s heart flagrantly displayed. The very temple of God is made a scene of ungodly traffic. The worship of Jehovah is made an occasion of greedy grasping after gain. And doubtless, had those unhallowed traffickers been questioned as to what they were at, they would have pleaded all manner of pious excuses. They were only providing for the convenience of those who had come from a distance to worship the God of their fathers. And had they not divine authority for this? Could they not quote Deut. 14 in defense of what they were doing? “If the way be too long for thee, so that thou art not able to carry it; or if the place be too far from thee, which the Lord thy God shall choose to set his name there, when the Lord thy God hath blessed thee. Then shalt thou turn it into money, and bind up the money in thine hand, and shalt go unto the place which the Lord thy God shall choose. And thou shalt bestow that money for whatsoever thy soul lusteth after, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or for strong drink, or for whatsoever thy soul desireth: an I thou shalt eat there before the Lord thy God, and thou shalt rejoice, thou and thy household.” Verse 24-26.
Men are not slow to betake themselves to arguments which have a certain pious ring about them. They can even quote scripture in defense of their covetous practices. But the eye of Christ could penetrate to the very depths of the soul, however those depths might be concealed by the flimsy arguments of a pious plausibility. He was not to be deceived. He discerned the motive-springs in the heart. He detected and unveiled the moral roots which lay concealed from ordinary eyes. He calls things by their right names. That which should have been the house of God, had become, in their hands, a house of merchandise— that which should have been a loved and hallowed retreat for all true worshippers, was turned into a den of thieves. The precincts of the sanctuary were desecrated by the godless traffic, of those who had learned to turn the service and worship of God into a means of “filthy lucre.”
How solemn is all this! What searching lessons are here read out in the ears of the professing church! Is Christendom one whit better than Judaism? Are nominal Christians the breadth of a hair in moral advance of nominal Jews? Alas! alas! we must reply in a melancholy and humiliating negative. Nay; it is worse and worse. For, inasmuch as Christianity is in advance of the legal system—inasmuch as the doctrines of the Gospel are in advance of the shadows of the law—so much is Christendom worse than Judaism—so much are nominal Christians more guilty than nominal Jews. The corruption of the best thing is the worst corruption. The higher the privileges, the deeper the guilt that corrupts them. “Thou, Capernaum, which art exalted to heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell.” Is not Christendom higher still, in religious advantages and spiritual privileges? Doubtless. What must be her end? No human tongue can tell—no pen portray—no heart conceive. May the awful reality of these things affect all our hearts more deeply! They are indeed awfully real, for as sure as our blessed Lord Christ did, with a scourge of small cords, clear that godless scene in the temple of Jerusalem, so surely will He clear this guilty Christendom with the sword of judgment and the besom of destruction, of all stumbling-blocks and roots of bitterness. Oh! then let us be in earnest in seeking to urge our fellows to flee from the wrath to come. Let us stand in faithful, earnest, zealous testimony against the gross corruptions and hideous abominations which are being carried on under the name of Christianity. Let us purge ourselves from the dishonorable vessels of this great house, and turn away, with firm decision, from all those who having a form of godliness, deny the power thereof. May God give all His true people grace and power so to do, for His Name and glory’s sake!
We had not intended to dwell, at such length, on the scenes in the second of John; but we trust it may not prove altogether profitless to the reader. It is well to have a full view of man in every stage of his history—every phase of his moral condition. We cannot ponder too deeply those faithful records penned by the Holy Ghost, for the purpose of setting before us the real truth as to what man is—those vivid and forcible illustrations which He has furnished for our learning; and hence, ere closing this article, we must glance, for a moment, at the last paragraph of our chapter which seems, as it were, to complete the inspired picture of man’s hopeless ruin.
Now when he was in Jerusalem at the passover, in the feast, many believed in his name, when they saw the miracles which he did. But Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he knew all, and needed not that any should testify of man: for he knew what was in man.” Verse 23-25.
To an unpracticed eye, it might seem most hopeful to find persons actually professing faith in Christ. Was not this the right thing? Yes verily, if the profession were genuine. But, if spurious, it was only “worse and worse, deceiving and being deceived.” There is nothing which so hardens the heart and sears the conscience as mere head knowledge—lip profession, nominal faith. To seem to be a Christian, and yet not to be, is the deadliest, delusion possible. “What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works!” Such is the solemn inquiry of the inspired guardian, of practical godliness—a wholesome word, most surely, for this day of wide-spread and worthless profession—this day in which millions, on every first day of the week, stand up in the presence of Almighty God, and say they believe this, that, and the other,—while, at the same time, every scene and every act of their lives give the lie to the utterance of their lips? What must be the end of all this terrible dishonesty—this heartless-profession—this gross inconsistency? Oh! for a thorough awakening!
But what was the fatal defect in the faith of those persons referred to in John 2:2323Now when he was in Jerusalem at the passover, in the feast day, many believed in his name, when they saw the miracles which he did. (John 2:23)? It was this—they believed “when they saw the miracles which He did.” Now this was not a divinely wrought faith at all. A faith merely founded on miracles is not saving faith. It is a nominal, notional, bead belief and nothing more. It leaves the soul in greater darkness than that of mere nature. There is no blindness so sad as the blindness of those who profess to see, while as yet their eyes are fast closed by the god of this world, who is never better served than by those who have a name to live while dead.
“But Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he knew all, and needed not that any should testify of man: for he knew what was in man.”
Reader, we would ask thee one question, ere we lay down the pen. It is this—Can Jesus commit Himself to thee?
(To be continued if the Lord will.)
Worship, and homage too, we bring,
With joyous hearts we joyous sing,
To the earth-born heaven-crowned king,
Jesus Christ the Savior—
Worthy of homage and of praise,
Thus we sing our joyous lays.”