(Luke 18:9-14.)
We are all, by nature, very unwilling to look our true condition straight in the face. “We do not like to hear the whole truth about self. We are disposed to dabble upon the surface. We shrink from penetrating the depths. We fear to reach the bottom of our condition. We would fain make out that we are not quite so bad as we really are. In a word, man is ignorant of himself, and he has no desire to be otherwise. This, if he knew but all, is a serious loss to him. For a man to think otherwise of himself than that he is a lost sinner, is a most melancholy mistake, for that is precisely what he is. He is, in himself, hopelessly lost. He may be amiable, moral, upright, and even religious, as we say; but he is lost. He was born thus. He came into this world, a poor, helpless, naked, needy, worthless, lost thing, so far as his natural condition is concerned. This is what he was—this is what he is, by nature.
Such being the truth, as to man, how strange that any should be found “trusting in themselves that they are righteous! Yet thus it has been, in every age. Thus it is, now; and thus it will be. Thus it was with the pharisee, in the parable before us. Let us look closely at his case.
“Two men went up to the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican.” The truth of God reduces everything to its simplest possible elements. It takes no account of the distinctions which prevail amongst men. Hence it speaks, here, of “two men—two sons of fallen Adam—two sinners. Before God there was no difference in their natural condition. They were both “lost.” True, one was a lost Pharisee, and the other a lost publican; but they were both lost. The Word of God declares, “there is no difference and that, too, upon a double ground. 1St, “for all have sinned.” (Rom. 3:23.) 2nd, “for the same Lord is rich unto all that call upon him. (Rom. 10:12.) It is well to see this. The mind is apt to get confused by the endless distinctions, names, grades, and shades of character, which obtain around us. They are all to be reduced to “two,” namely, those who trust in self and those who trust in Christ. Thus it stands. The writer and the reader of these lines stand represented, at this moment, by either of the two; and the sooner the true state of the case is made known to the heart and conscience, the better.
Now, there is one feature of character which invariably marks the self-trusters, and it is this: they have only a one-sided view of their condition. This feature is very prominent in the picture before us—a picture, be it remembered, drawn by the pencil of the Master Himself. “The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee,” observe, it was “with himself.” Pharisaism knows nothing of communion. There is an icy individuality about it. Its platform is self-constructed, and, as a consequence, self-occupied. There is no room upon it for anyone but self. And let us ask, for what does the Pharisee thank God? Is it for the ten thousand mercies of His liberal hand? Is it for the knowledge of redemption through the visitation of the day-spring from on high? Is it for His long-suffering goodness toward a poor un worthy sinner? Alas! no; the Pharisee knows nothing of such grounds of thanksgiving—He say, “I thank thee that I” He does not say, “I thank thee that thou.” It was “I” and not “thou,” with him. This makes a very serious difference indeed. The true ground of thanksgiving is that the soul has made some gladsome discovery about God—that it has drunk in some precious revelation of His nature and character—that it has received the soul-saving knowledge of redemption by the blood of the Lamb. But a Pharisee knows not, wants not, seeks not aught of this kind.
For what, then, does a Pharisee thank God? It is deeply interesting! He says, “I thank thee that I am not.” How strange! He does not say, “I thank thee that I am.” He had never looked at or thought of what he was. Had his eyes ever been opened to see what he was, he could no longer be a self-truster. Self-knowledge destroys self-confidence. There is nothing in a man’s nature, condition, or character, for which he could presume to give thanks, if only he could see himself as God sees him. It may be all very well so long as a man is merely looking at what he is not; but only let him be brought to see what he is, and the entire scene will be changed.
Now, we always find that when God deals with the soul, He reveals what a man is, and not what he is not. When the brightness of Jehovah’s glory shone upon the prophet Isaiah, what did it reveal? Was it what he was not? No; but what he was; and hence, we do not find Isaiah saying “I thank thee that I am not as other men.” Quite the opposite. He says, “woe is me, for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips.” How did he learn this? Surely not by looking at his neighbors. This would never have revealed his positive condition. How, then, did he learn what he was? “Mine eyes have seen the king, the Lord of hosts.” (Isa. 6:1-8.) Thus it was with Job, when he said, “now mine eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself.” (Job 42:6.) Thus it was with Peter, when he “fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, Ο Lord.” (Luke 5:8.) He does not say, “I thank thee that I am not as bad as James or John.” Ah! no; men never say or think these things, when they find themselves in the presence of God. Job could boast himself when “God’s candle shined upon his head;’ but he abhorred himself when God shined into his heart. (Comp. Job 29 with chap, 42.)
Thus it is that God’s truth ever acts on the heart and conscience. It reveals what a man is. Thus it will be before the great white throne “when the books will be opened.” Men will not be occupied with what they are not, but what they are. Nothing can be more worthless than to be looking at my negative condition. I may proceed to any imaginable length, saying, “I am not this—I am not that—I am not the other for, after all, the question must be asked and answered, “WHAT AM I?” I am, assuredly, something; and it is with that something, whatever it is, that God must deal, either in grace, now, or in judgment, by and by—either to meet it with the blood of the Lamb, at this moment, or consign it to the lake of fire, forever. True, I may not be “as other men but it is very evident I am not what I ought to be; and, hence, if I trust in myself, I am trusting in that which is what it ought not to be, and I must perish eternally. This is plain enough. So long as I am merely comparing myself with “other men;” I may have some ground for boasting, for there is not a criminal, at this moment, in all the cells of Newgate, who could not find another criminal whom he might think more guilty than himself. The question, however, is not, are there others worse than I? but am I what I ought to be? Header, have you ever retired into the solitude of the presence of the Almighty and there put the question, pointedly, and solemnly, to your own heart, “WHAT AM I?” If not, do it, now, I beseech you. Depend upon it, if you put this question, honestly, you will get back, from the depths of your moral being, this one reply— “A LOST SINNER!” And what does a lost sinner want? salvation! Not a half-salvation—not a hope of salvation—not a doubtful salvation; but a full, free, present, personal, perfect and everlasting salvation. This is what the sinner needs-this is what the gospel reveals—this is what the publican found.
The Pharisee did not want this salvation. Why? because he did not know what he was. He was occupied with what he was not. He was comparing himself with “other men.” He was measuring himself by an imperfect rule, and could not get a true answer. Until a man has reached the truth about himself, he does not want God’s salvation. He can manage for himself. The Pharisee thought that fasting twice in the seven days, and giving a tenth of his possessions would be a sufficient answer to all God’s claims. If he had any thought, at all, as to his sins, he imagined that fasting and tithes could cancel them. Fatal delusion! soul-destroying error! alas! what countless myriads have split upon this rock! Reader, keep clear of it. See that you are, note, resting as a lost sinner, in the perfect atonement offered, on Calvary, over eighteen centuries ago. There the work was finished in which the sinner can find settled and everlasting rest.
Let us, now, turn to the publican. “And the publican standing afar off.” This was taking his proper place, as a sinner. “Ye who sometimes were far off.” (Eph. 1:13.) He felt he had no right, in himself, to “draw nigh.” He knew the truth as to his positive condition. He was not occupied with what he was not. “He would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven.” So far from thinking he had any right to be in heaven, he would not even dare to look toward it. “But smote upon his breast.” As much as to say “here—deep in this bosom of mine, lies the source of all the evil, the root of the malady, the ancient seat of my sore disease.” “He smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.” “We have already remarked that there is an icy individuality about Pharisaism. We have now to remark that there is an intense individuality about true conviction. This shines in the publican’s act of “smiting on his breast;” and it sounds in the little word “me.”
The publican, then, saw and felt what he was. And what was the result? Were two fastings and a tithe an answer to his condition? Could they blot out his sins, or justify him in the sight of God? By no means. There was one thing, and but one, in the whole universe on which he could fall back, and that was the propitiating-atoning-reconciling sacrifice of Christ. I earnestly desire to put the English reader in full possession of the force and value of the publican’s expression “be merciful.” Any one knowing Greek will see it at a glance. It is not often we trouble the readers of “Things New and Old” with anything about Greek. Indeed, we are too happy in the possession of our precious and unrivaled English translation—the authorized version of the Holy Scriptures, to admit of our lightly touching a single syllable.
However, we must, in common justice to the reader, inform him that the word used by the publican contains in it the rich and precious thought of atonement, propitiation or reconciliation. It is a totally different word from that used by the blind man, at verse 38 of Luke 18, though to the English reader, it would seem to be the same. The publican’s word is from the same root as “propitiation!” (Rom. 3:25. 1 John 2:2.) It is part of the very same verb which is rendered “make reconciliation.” (Heb. 2:17.) These facts will suffice to unfold the perfect beauty, the divine accuracy, the evangelic fullness of this most interesting parable. The blind man wanted pity for his blindness. The publican wanted atonement for his sins. He knew that he was “far off” and he wanted to be “brought nigh,” and naught but BLOOD could do that. He felt that nothing but blood could propitiate divine Justice or reconcile a sinner to heaven’s offended Majesty. In one word, he fell back upon the glorious doctrine of the blood, in which every sinner who knows what he is, must find rest for his guilty conscience. A Pharisee may find rest in fastings and tithes. A convicted sinner can only find rest in the blood of the Lamb. And, blessed be God, there is a perfect rest there-a rest so perfect that it needs no addition. Jesus has offered a full atonement. He has made reconciliation. “God hath set Him forth to be a propitiation, through faith in His blood, to declare His righteousness, in the remission of sins that are past, (i.e. sins committed in former times, but remitted through the divine forbearance) and to declare His righteousness, at this present time, that He might be just and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus.” (Rom. 3:25, 26.)
It was on this foundation the publican took his stand. It was not, by any means, with him, a question of coming before God, in the credit of his prayers, as some would teach us. He had no more confidence in his prayers than in fastings or tithes. He simply took refuge in “the righteousness of God, which is by faith of Jesus Christ, unto all and upon all them that believe.” All this is fully involved in the beautiful word which he uses. No doubt, we may cry to God, we may pray without ceasing. It is the believer’s highest and sweetest privilege to pray to his heavenly Father, continually. But the publican did not come before God depending upon prayers, but upon blood. The blood of Jesus is the resting place for all who stand on the same platform with the publican. Fastings, tithes, and prayers are the resting-place for all who occupy the same platform with the Pharisee. The publican took his stand just where Abel, Isaiah, Peter, and Paul took theirs, namely, on the finished work of Christ.
And what was the result? It was precisely what might be expected. “This man went down to his house JUSTIFIED.” Observe, he went down, not merely pardoned or forgiven; but “justified”—made righteous. “He,” like Abel, “obtained witness that he was righteous.” (Heb. 11:4.) There was nothing against him. The atonement of Christ, in which he took refuge, made him a perfectly justified man. He had nothing to do with it. Jesus is the propitiation. Fastings could not propitiate—tithes could not propitiate-—prayers could not propitiate, but the precious blood of Christ can propitiate; and all who believe in that “are justified from all things, from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses.” (Acts 13:39.) Such is the infinite value of the sacrifice of Christ, that all who put their trust in it, are looked at by God, as perfectly righteous. Being a perfect work, it makes all who confide in it perfect, likewise. The sacrifices under the law could not make any one perfect as to his conscience, because they were not themselves perfect; but Christ’s sacrifice is perfect, and therefore it can give a perfectly purged conscience. (Heb. 9 and 10.)
Hence, therefore, anyone who professes to be depending upon Christ, and yet has not peace, is not perfectly justified, is denying the value of Christ’s blood. This is the true state of the case. Has Christ finished His work, or has He not? Has He perfectly put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself? Has He left part of His work undone? Has He left something to be added thereto? Is there not a divine atonement in His blood? Has not Jehovah declared, “I HAVE FOUND A RANSOM?” To these inquiries, the Word affords but one reply. Well, then, ought not everyone who, like the publican, depends upon the blood, be assured that he, like the publican is “justified?” Unquestionably. Let my reader put the two words together, and see the striking connection. The publican says, “make reconciliation for me a sinner.” Christ says, “this man went down to his house justified.” The publican put the entire work, of making reconciliation, into God’s hands, and God gave him the full benefit, and pronounced him a justified man. The publican, as a sinner, met God, as a Saviour, and the entire question was settled, once and forever. Thus it is in every case. The reason why people do not see the simplicity of God’s way of salvation, is because they are occupied with what they are not, rather than with what they are, it is as I am that God meets me, in the cross. He has made provision for all the guilt that He Himself knows to be upon me, and all the sin that He knows to be in me. The belief of this must give settled peace. The more I grow in the knowledge of the extent and depth of my guilt and ruin, the more I grow in the knowledge of the extent and depth of the atonement. I never can see my guilt as God sees it; but He has put it away according to His own sense of it, and He tells me He has done so, and when I believe this, I have sweet peace. “Being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Rom. 5:1.)
I would only observe, in conclusion, that the word “rather,” in verse 14, is introduced, and tends to obscure the truth of the entire passage. We are not to suppose that there is any comparison as to the measure of justification. By no means. The simple truth is that the publican was perfectly justified, but the Pharisee was not justified at all. And why? Because the publican put his trust in divinely-made atonement, while the Pharisee put his trust in fastings and tithes. The former rested in the blood; the latter rested in his own doings. In short, we have before us Abel and Cain, over again. “There is nothing new under the sun.” There were the two classes in the fourth of Genesis—there were the two classes in the eighteenth of Luke; and there are the two classes, now.
Reader, to which of the two do you, now, belong? Are you trusting in yourself that you are righteous? or are you divinely “justified” by simple faith in the precious blood of Christ? Which? Oh! which? Remember, if you see yourself to be a lost sinner, and that your trust is in the blood, you are as justified as that blood can make you. The question no longer is, what kind of a sinner are you? but what kind of a Saviour is Jesus? May God give you to see this!