The immense change from law to grace was set forth remarkably in the incident which now follows; and the more so, because the law was now directly introduced in order to show what man was under it, and that there is nothing which really fulfills the law but grace. Those that have only the law before them never accomplish it; they only talk about it, and would cover their self-condemnation by despising others if they could. Those that are under grace are the only persons who do fulfill it (Rom. 8:3, 4); but they do a great deal more. They understand what is suitable to grace, while in them the righteousness of the law is fulfilled.
“And behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He did not ask, “What shall I do to be saved?” The law neither supposes the ruin of a sinner nor proposes salvation. It cannot but address itself to man's competency, if he has any. The law is directed to those who assume that man can do what God requires; and consequently it is on God's part a command of that which is due to Him, what He cannot but ask if they take such a ground with Him. The measure of duty which God proposes to man who thinks himself capable of doing it is the law.
The lawyer accordingly asks Him as a teacher, what he is to do “to inherit eternal life.” The poor broken-hearted jailer at Philippi asked a far different question, and one more befitting a sinner—what he should do to be saved. The lawyer was not in earnest; he was a mere theorist. It was a subject for a discourse or argument. There was no real concern about his soul, no sense of his own condition or of what God is. “What shall I do to inherit eternal life?” The Lord answers him, “What is written in the law? how readest thou?” because, when he took this ground of doing something to inherit eternal life, he had betaken himself really to the law. Thus the Lord in His wisdom answers the fool according to his folly. A fool thinks he can keep the law, and that this is the way to inherit eternal life. The Lord accordingly says, “What is written in the law? how readest thou?” because he is going to convict him of the utter futility of all efforts on that ground. “And he, answering, said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind.” That is, the whole man must love the Lord our God, inwardly as well as outwardly, “and thy neighbor as thyself.” This was excellent as a statement of duty: nothing could be better; but how had he done it? and what hope was there for his soul on any such footing as this? If he took the ground of doing something to inherit eternal life, this must be the way. He was wrong in the very starting-point of his soul, wrong in what he thought about this great concernment, because he was wrong about God; and indeed he that is wrong about himself must be wrong about God. The great fundamental difference of a soul taught of God is this, that, conscious of his own sinfulness, he looks to God and to His way of being delivered out of it; whereas a mere natural man in general hopes to be able to do something himself for God, so as to put Him under a kind of obligation of giving eternal life. Human thought always denies God's grace, as it denies its own sinfulness and need of grace. However the answer was all right on that ground, and the Lord says to him to this effect, “Thou hast answered right; this do and thou shalt live.” But he was dead. Now the law never deals with the man as dead, and therefore in Old Testament times there never was such a thing brought out as moral death. We never find a hint that this was known in the law or even the prophets. But in the Gospels and Epistles man is treated as dead and as wanting eternal life, which the Son of God alone can give; and He gives it not by law but by grace—two totally opposed principles. Therefore it is by faith that it might be by grace; whereas the law appeals to that human ability, of which man is proud. He deems himself competent to do the will of God and thus to live. The Lord answered him, “This do and thou shalt live,” but there is where he was wrong. He could not do it, and on that ground therefore he could not live. He was dead though he did not know it himself, morally dead while he lived. “But he, willing to justify himself,” not to justify God but himself, “said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbor?” This is the constant resource of a heart that is not obedient. It makes difficulties and starts objections. “Who is my neighbor?” One would have thought this a very simple question to decide, who one's neighbor was, but the plainest things are just those which the disobedient heart is prone to overlook. Had he entered into the obedience of Jesus (1 Peter 1:2) he would not have needed to ask the Lord; he would have known himself. He and all must be taught by a parable. “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.” This is just the course of man. From the place of blessing, Jerusalem, he goes down to that of the curse, Jericho, and there of course falls among thieves. Such is the world. Having no real unselfish love, it does not give, but violently takes where and what it can. He “fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.” This is just the world. “And by chance there came down a certain priest that way, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.” There was no kindness, no purpose of love in his heart—only a concurrence of regrettable circumstances for the poor man: it was not the priest's matter. There was no grace active there, and so the priest, this highest expression of the law of God, goes that way, “and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.” He did not know who his neighbor was any more than the lawyer: self always blinds. Surely he ought to have known; but the law never gives right motives. It claims right conduct from those who have not right motives, in order to show that they are thoroughly and inwardly wrong. By the law is the knowledge of sin; it is never the power of holiness. The law is said to be the strength of sin. It simply shows a man his duty, but convicts him that he does not practice it. So with the Levite. “Likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.” He was next the priest in point of position, according to the law; but he looks on the man and does not recognize his neighbor any more than the priest. He too passed by on the other side. “But a certain Samaritan,” who had nothing to do with the law at all, “as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine.” There was grace before his eyes which had won his heart, and accordingly be at once finds out his neighbor. Love sees clearly, whatever the heathens may dream. The law merely speaks of his neighbor to a man without heart, who has not ears to hear or eyes to see his neighbor; but grace gives eyes, and ears, and heart. The Samaritan accordingly, when he sees him, seeks him with the suited provision of grace for the future as well as the present. “He set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.” Thus the righteousness of the law was fulfilled in him who walked not after the flesh but after the Spirit. This was precisely the way of grace. It was so that God sent His Son in quest of those who were fallen among thieves, who were more than half dead. They were wholly dead; and the Son of God gave not only all that He had but Himself. He far exceeded all that man or a creature could do. Only God could so humble Himself and so love; only He could work suitably to His humiliation and His love. And not only does this Samaritan do all the good he can, but he takes measures that when he himself goes away, the needy one shall be taken care of adequately. “And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.” It is the provision of grace which not only furnishes the blessing with all freeness, but secures it fully when the giver is no longer here. And Jesus will repay when He comes again. He took care Himself of the sinner when He was in the world. He takes care of him now that he is brought in at His sole charge; and when He comes again, all will be repaid. “Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto him that fell among thieves? And he said” —even this lawyer, because man has a conscience— “He that shewed mercy on him.” Consequently it is not law that can avail. The great transition then is made plain to all who hear. Mercy, and mercy alone, can suit a lost man; but mercy is distasteful because it exalts God; whereas law is used by man to exalt himself and his capacity. It is only when we believe our own ruin, perhaps after efforts under law, that mercy first saves our souls and then opens our eyes and makes us see a neighbor in each needy soul, without asking Who is he? Mercy makes us feel every one that wants our help and compassion to be our neighbor; whereas the spirit of legalism contents itself with asking, “Who is my neighbor?” Without Christ, law merely acts upon the natural man; though it shows a man his duty, it never gives him power or heart to do it. The spirit of grace alone gives divine motive and power. “What the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh,” &c. Grace has shone in Jesus Christ; and the Holy Ghost works according to the same grace in those who have received Jesus, who are not under law but under grace.