At the close of John 6 we have a very clear and beautiful confession of Christ from the lips of our apostle—a confession rendered all the more touching and forcible by the circumstances under which it was delivered.
Our blessed Lord, in His teachings in the synagogue at Capernaum, had unfolded truth of a very high order, so high as to put the poor human heart to the test, and wither up all the pretensions of man in a very remarkable manner. We cannot here attempt to enter upon the subject of our Lord’s discourse, but the effect of it is thus recorded:—“From that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him.” They were not prepared for the reception of such heavenly doctrine. They were offended by it, and they turned their backs upon that blessed One who alone was worthy of all the affections of the heart, and of the homage and devotion of the whole moral being. “They went back, and walked no more with him.”
Now we are not told what became of these deserters, or whether they were saved or not. No such question is raised. We are simply told that they abandoned Christ, and ceased to be any longer publicly identified with His name and His cause. How many, alas! have since followed their sad example! It is one thing to profess to be the disciples of Christ, and another thing altogether to stand with firm purpose of heart on the ground of public testimony for His name, in thorough identification with a rejected Lord. It is one thing for people to flock to Christ because of the benefits which He bestows, and it is quite another to cleave to Him in the face of the world’s scorn and contempt. The powerful application of the doctrine of the cross very speedily thins the ranks of professors. In the chapter before us we see at one moment multitudes thronging enthusiastically around the Man who could so marvelously supply their need, and the next moment abandoning Him, when His teaching offended then pride.
Thus it has been, thus it is, and thus it will be until that day in the which the despised Stranger of Nazareth shall reign from pole to pole, and from the river to the ends of the earth. We are ready enough to avail ourselves of the benefits and blessings which a loving Savior can bestow upon us, but when it becomes a question of following a rejected Lord along that rough and lonely path which He has trodden for us in this sinful world, we are disposed, like those of old, to go back, and walk no more with Him.
This is very sad and very humiliating. It proves how little we know of his heart, or of what that heart desires from us. Jesus longs for fellowship. He does not want patronage. It does not meet the desire of his heart to be followed, or admired, or gazed at, because of what He can do or give. He delights in a heart taught of God to appreciate His Person, for this glorifies and gratifies the Father. He retired from the gaze of an excited and tumultuous throng who would fain make Him a king, because they had eaten of the loaves and were filled; but He could turn, with touching earnestness, to the little band of followers who still remained, and challenge their hearts with the question, “Will ye also go away?”
How deeply affecting! How it must have touched the hearts of all, save that one who had no heart for aught but money—who was “a thief” and “a devil!” Alas! alas! a moment was approaching when all were to forsake Him and fly—when even the very man whose history we are considering was to deny Him with cursing and swearing—when the blessed One was to be left absolutely alone, forsaken of men, forsaken of God—utterly and awfully deserted.
But that moment was yet future; and it is peculiarly refreshing to hearken to the fine confession of our beloved apostle, in reply to the deeply affecting inquiry of his Lord. “Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life. And we believe and are sure that thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God.”
Well indeed might he say, “To whom shall we go?” There was not another throughout the wide universe of God to whom the heart could turn. He alone could meet their every need, satisfy their every right desire, fill up every chamber of the heart. Simon Peter felt this, and hence, with all his mistakes, his failures, and his infirmities, his loving and devoted heart turned with earnest affection to his beloved Lord. He would not abandon Him, though little able to rise to the height of His heavenly teaching. There was a link binding him to Jesus Christ which nothing could snap. “Lord, to whom shall we go?”—whither shall we betake ourselves?—on whom could we reckon beside? True, there may be trial and difficulty in the path of true discipleship. It may prove a rough and a lonely path. The heart may be tried and tested in every possible way. There may be deep and varied sorrow—deep waters, dark shadows; but in the face of all we can say, “To whom shall we go?”
And mark the singular fullness of Peter’s confession. “Thou hast the words of eternal life;” and, then, “Thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God.” We have the two things, namely, what He has, and what He is. Blessed be His name, Christ has all we can possibly want for time and eternity. Words of eternal life flow from His lips into our hearts. He causes those who follow Him to “inherit substance.” He bestows upon them “durable riches and righteousness.”
We may truly say that, in comparison of what Christ has to give, all the riches, honors, dignities, and pleasures of this world are but as dross. They all pass away as the vapors of the morning, and leave only an aching void behind. Nothing that this world has to offer can possibly satisfy the cravings of the human soul. “All is vanity and vexation of spirit.” And not only so—it must be given up. If one had all the wealth of Solomon, it lasts but a moment in comparison with that boundless eternity which lies before every one of us. When death approaches, all the riches of the universe could not purchase one moment’s respite. The last great enemy gives no quarter. He ruthlessly snaps the link that connects man with all that his poor heart prizes and loves upon earth, and hurries him away into eternity.
And what then? Yes, this is the question. Who can answer it? Who can attempt to picture the future of a soul that passes into eternity without God, without Christ, without hope? Who can describe the horrors of one who, all in a moment, opens his eyes to the fact—the tremendous fact—that he is lost, lost forever—hopelessly, eternally, lost? It is positively too dreadful to dwell upon it. And yet it must be looked at; and if the reader is still of the world, still unconverted, careless, thoughtless, unbelieving, we would earnestly entreat of him now, just now, to give his earnest attention to the weighty and all-important question of his soul’s salvation—a question, in comparison with which all other questions dwindle into utter insignificance. “What shall it profit a man, if he should gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” It is, beyond all question, the most egregious folly that anyone can be guilty of to put off the grand business of his soul’s salvation.
And if any one inquire what he has to do in this business, the answer is Nothing—“nothing, either great or small.” Jesus has the words of eternal life. He it is who says, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but is passed from death unto life.”
Here is the hinge on which the whole matter moves. Hearken to the words of Christ. Believe in Him that sent that blessed One. Put your trust in God, and you shall be saved; you shall have eternal life, and never come into judgment.
Nor is this all. Simon Peter, in his lovely confession, does not confine himself to what Christ has to give, precious and blessed as that is, but he also speaks of what He is. “Thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God.” This is full of deepest interest for the heart. Christ not only gives us eternal life, but He also becomes the object of our heart’s affections—our satisfying portion, our unfailing resource, our infallible guide and counselor, our constant reference, in all our need, in all our pressure, in all our sorrows and difficulties. We need never go to any one else for succor, sympathy, or guidance. We have all we want in Him. He is the eternal delight of the heart of God, and He may well be the delight of our hearts here and hereafter, now and forever.