The parable of the marriage supper now claims our attention. In it we have further evidence of God’s exceeding goodness, on the one hand; and of man’s hopeless opposition and determined enmity, on the other. The truth is here made fully manifest, that, if man is to participate at all in the rich and precious grace of God, he must be compelled to do so.
“And Jesus answered and spake unto them again by parables, and said, The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son.”
Here we have an entirely new thing. It is not now a question of law, as in the case of the two sons; nor a question of ordinances or religious advantages, as in the case of the husbandmen; God is about to make a marriage for His Son, and He sends forth His messengers to invite men to come to the marriage feast. He does not ask them for anything. He is not saying, “Go, work,” or, “Give fruit,” but simply inviting them to a feast, the object of which is to do honor to His Son.
We are not told in this parable anything about the bride, whether it be the earthly Jerusalem, or the church; neither have we the least intimation as to the sphere of the nuptials. The moment had not arrived for the unfolding of aught of this. We have a similitude of the kingdom of heaven, in one special aspect of it. We never find anything premature in the word of God. Hence our blessed Lord could not bring out the truth of the church in the parable now under our consideration. It is simply a comparison of the kingdom of heaven. It is like a certain king who made a marriage for his son. We know who the King is, and we know who the Son is; but, as to the bride, we know nothing from this parable. It does not come within its scope to speak of her. The grand object is to show forth the marvelous grace of God—His loving purpose and determination to have to do with us poor sinners, even in spite of ourselves. If man will not go work when he is told, if he will not give fruit when he is asked, the question is, will he come to the marriage feast if he be invited?
This is the question. We shall soon see the answer. “He sent forth his servants to call them that were bidden to the wedding; and they would not come.” This occurred in our Lord’s life here upon earth. He sent forth the twelve and the seventy—sent them exclusively to Israel. They were expressly forbidden to go in the way of the Gentiles, or enter any city of the Samaritans. Their mission was only “to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” The invitation is one of purest grace. There is no demand made. The precious word is, “Come to the wedding.”
But, alas, they would not come! There was no heart for the King, no heart for His Son. If they had been asked to contribute anything toward the feast, they might urge the plea of poverty and inability. But, as everybody knows, when people are invited to a feast, the very thought of their bringing anything toward it, would be a positive insult to the host.
Now, let the reader distinctly understand that we are not by any means denying man’s responsibility. So far from this, we distinctly maintain it. Man is, most assuredly, responsible. He was responsible to keep the law when he got it. He was responsible to yield some return for all those religious advantages placed within his reach under the Levitical ceremonial. To deny human responsibility, we should consider a very grave error indeed. Man is not a mere machine. He is a responsible being, with whom God has been dealing, in bygone ages, in various ways, to see if haply anything could be made of him.
But man has been proved a hopeless ruin; yea, more, an implacable enemy. He does not want to have anything to do with God or His Son. He has no heart for that nuptial feast, given in honor of the King’s Son. This is proved by his conduct—the true index of character—the real proof of the heart’s bent. Man, when told to “go work,” might plead want of strength. When asked to give fruit, he might plead inability to produce it. Not that the plea is admissible for a moment before the throne of God; for we must never lose sight of the solemn, clearly established, truth of man’s responsibility.
But a call to a wedding affords no possible ground for excuse, and hence the refusal to come only proves that the heart has no interest in the King or His Son. “They would not come.” It is not said they could not come. They did not want to come. Man never does, until he is compelled. There will not be so much as a single merely invited guest at the marriage supper. Not one would ever be found there, if he had not been compelled to come.
There is not, in the entire compass of the human heart, a single desire after God or heavenly things, not one atom of taste for what is divine or spiritual. Man, if left to himself, would never come to God. He does not want to go to hell; he shrinks from the thought of pain, torment, and misery; and, seeing that heaven is a place of entire freedom from all such, he would rather go there than to an everlasting hell. Beyond this he has no thought or wish as to heaven; and as to the presence of God, it is the very last place in the wide universe he would like to find himself; he could not endure it; it would be absolutely intolerable to him.
In order to enjoy the divine presence, there must not only be a divine title, but the divine nature; and the unrenewed man has neither the one nor the other; he has no right to the place, and no capacity for the enjoyment of it. A beggar in rags would be sadly out of place and uncomfortable in the queen’s drawing-room; how much more, unrenewed nature in heaven!
But we must proceed with our parable, and in so doing, we may just remark that the first invitation to the wedding was given in our Lord’s own lifetime. But in the second, we observe a very considerable advance in the moral ground of the invitation; the king can put forth much stronger claims upon the hearts of those invited. “Again, he sent forth other servants, saying, Tell them which were bidden, Behold, I have prepared my dinner; my oxen and my fatlings are killed, and all things are ready; come unto the marriage.”
Here we have vividly illustrated the call to Israel, on the ground of accomplished redemption, as in the preaching of the apostles on the day of Pentecost. During our Lord’s ministry, the invitation had gone forth. He had sent forth His messengers to the lost sheep of the house of Israel; but, after his death and resurrection, the Holy Ghost came down, and filled the apostles and others with new power to urge upon the people the blessed invitation, grounded upon the glorious fact that the atoning work was done; that God had glorified His Son Jesus; that all things were ready. “This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we all are witnesses. Therefore, being by the right hand of God exalted, and having received of the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost, he hath shed forth this, which ye now see and hear.....Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ.” And again, “Unto you first, God having raised up his Son Jesus, sent him to bless you, by turning away everyone of you from his iniquities.”
What was the result, as regards the nation and its leaders? Deliberate rejection. Many were compelled to come, they were made willing in the day of the Spirit’s power. Thousands were bowed in true repentance before God, and thankfully accepted the blessed invitation to come to the wedding. But, as regards the great mass of the people, it was exactly according to the words of our parable, “They made light of it, and went their ways, one to his farm, and another to his merchandise.”
Alas! thus it is to this very day. People “make light” of the precious gospel of Christ. The sweet invitation of divine love is pressed upon them; the grand realities of eternity are presented to them—the joys of heaven, the horrors of an everlasting hell—the unspeakable value of their immortal souls—all these things are solemnly, earnestly, lovingly brought before them, and urged upon their attention; but they make light of them, and go their ways; the farm, the merchandise, the money-making, pleasure, vanity, folly, fashion, and gaiety command their hearts, and engross their energies; they care not for the marriage supper; they have no heart for the King or His Son, or the nuptial feast—no care for the salvation of their immortal souls—no true desire to make their escape from the terrible wrath that must, ere long, overtake all who refuse the blessed message of God’s salvation—all who die in their sins.
There is, however, more than heartless indifference; this we see in the great mass of people. There is positive enmity. “The remnant took his servants, and entreated them spitefully, and slew them.” This is in full and melancholy keeping with the solemn address of Stephen, in Acts 7, a few moments before his martyrdom. “Ye stiff-necked, and uncircumcised, in heart and ears, ye do always resist the Holy Ghost; as your fathers did, so do ye. Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted? and they have slain them which showed before of the coming of the Just One; of whom ye have been now the betrayers and murderers. Who have received the law by the disposition of angels, and have not kept it. When they heard these things, they were cut to the heart, and they gnashed on him with their teeth.....Then they cried out with a loud voice, and stopped their ears, and ran upon him with one accord, and cast him out of the city, and stoned him.”
The historic record is in perfect unison with the teaching of the parable. Every effort of divine grace, all the painstaking of divine love, is met by the determined hatred of the human heart. The law broken; the prophets stoned; the Son rejected and crucified; the vessel of the Holy Ghost martyred. The case was hopeless—the evil incorrigible; nothing remained but for judgment to take its course. “When the king heard thereof, he was wroth; and he sent forth his armies, and destroyed those murderers, and burned up their city.”
How literally this was fulfilled in the awful history of Jerusalem, we need not say. It is known to all. The horrors of that dreadful siege are enough to make the blood congeal in our veins, even as we read them on the page of history. What must the facts have been! And yet they were as nothing when compared with the sufferings of those who shall find their portion in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death. But, be it well remembered, that as surely as Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans—as surely as the apostate Jews endured the appalling sufferings which the pen of the historian has recorded, so surely shall all who reject the gospel of the grace of God have to endure the unutterable agony and anguish of that place where hope can never come. The one is as true as the other, and comes out with equal force and solemnity in our parable.
“Then saith the king to his servants, the wedding is ready, but they which were bidden were not worthy; go ye therefore into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage. So those servants went out into the highways, and gathered together all, as many as they found, both bad and good; and the wedding was furnished with guests.”
Here we see the rich and precious grace of God flowing out to the Gentiles. All the barriers are swept away, and the shining river of God’s salvation sends its refreshing and life-giving stream to the ends of the earth. “The salvation of God is sent to the Gentiles, and they will hear it.”
We have from the inspired pen of the evangelist Luke, a most exquisite point in connection with this subject. “And the Lord said unto the servant, Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled.”
It is not possible to conceive anything more lovely or more glorious than this. It is pure, absolute, sovereign grace. It is not a question of man’s responsibility; all that is closed. It is not, “Go work;” it is not “Give fruit;” it is not even “Come.” All these methods have been tried, and tried in vain. He would not work; he would not give; he would not even come.
What remains! Just this—God’s compelling grace! He says to the sinner, “If you will not have anything to say to me, I am determined to have to say to you. I will save you in spite of yourself. I will compel you to come. I am determined to fill my house with guests. I will fit you and clothe you with a wedding garment. It matters not who you are or what you are; I shall have you in my presence, and at my feast in a manner worthy of myself. 1 have made ample provision; I have made out the title, found the ransom, done all; and not only so, but I shall make you come. I know that, if left to yourself, you would never come at all; I have proved this—proved it beyond all question; and now I shall not leave you to yourself; I shall not allow you to stay away; I shall give you a clean deliverance from yourself, from your sins, from the devil, from the world, from all your liabilities and responsibilities, as a lost, ruined, guilty sinner; and I shall bring you to my table clothed in garments of salvation—yea, clothed in my righteousness, accepted in all the acceptability of my own Son. I will give you a title, give you a capacity, give you a nature, give you all, make you all, do all for you; you shall be my guest forever; and if anyone shall inquire, How can all this be? The answer is, Thus shall it be done to the man whom the king delighteth to honor. It is all grace from first to last—all to the praise of the glory of my grace. I do not ask you for an atom; I do not ask you to put forth a single effort: I know it would be of no possible use to do so, for if it were all made to depend on your moving your eyelash, you would not do it. I have taken the whole matter into my own hands, from first to last, and you shall be, to all eternity, a monument of my saving, quickening, compelling grace.”
Header, we ask you, is not all this most marvelous? Can aught exceed it? May not angels well desire to look into it? May not principalities and powers gaze with wonder at it? Who but God could speak and act like this? Only think of His dealing thus with the being that had broken His law, stoned His prophets, murdered His Son, resisted His Spirit. What matchless, transcendent, adorable grace! God would fill His house with guests, who, if left to themselves, would have turned their backs forever upon Him, and rushed headlong to an everlasting hell.
Need we say there are holy responsibilities flowing out of all this marvelous grace—powerful claims upon all those who are the happy, privileged subjects thereof? Surely there are. If our responsibility, as sinners, has issued in the most complete and hopeless, failure and ruin; if it has forever closed in the cross of the Son of God; if grace has compelled us to come within the hallowed circle of God’s salvation: if we are saved, blessed, cleansed, clothed, accepted in the beloved, endowed with every privilege that God could bestow upon us, if all this be true, and it is true, true as the truth of God can make it—then, may we not ask, what manner of persons ought we to be? If we are saved, ought we not to live as such? If we have gotten the wedding garment, ought we not to wear it, and to appear in it continually? Are we not called to put on Christ, in our daily life? Should not our habits, our manners, our temper, our style, our spirit, our whole practical life and character declare whose we are and whom we serve? Can it be that any one professing to have the wedding garment, could be found going after the folly, vanity, frivolity, and ridiculous fashions of this wretched world?
Alas! alas! there is a terrible amount of heartless, worthless profession in our midst. The doctrines of grace are talked about, but where is the fruit? There is nothing more terrible, nothing more sad and humiliating than to see persons professing to be saved by the free grace of God, and yet exhibiting gross selfishness and earthly mindedness in their daily private life. It was this that broke the blessed apostle’s heart, and made him weep bitter tears, as he tells us in his epistle to his beloved Philippians. And if it was so, in his day, what is it now?
We may, perhaps, be asked, “What has all this to do with the parable of the wedding garment?” We reply, much, every way. Let us read the closing sentences and see if they do not bear down, in awful solemnity upon all who take their place, professedly, among “the guests,” but are not really clothed in the wedding garment. “And when the king came in to see the guests, he saw there a man which had not on a wedding garment; and he saith unto him, Friend, how earnest thou in hither, not having a wedding garment? And he was speechless. Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few chosen.”
How solemn! How soul-subduing! How appalling! How dreadful for anyone to appear among the guests, to take a place among the saved, to profess to be a subject of grace, and yet not have on the wedding garment! “How earnest thou in hither?” It is an open, daring insult to the King, to His Son, and to the nuptial feast—the very highest offense against the grace of God. The idea of appearing amongst the Lord’s people, being at His table, professing to belong to Him, and yet not being really clothed upon with Christ—the true wedding garment; presuming to belong to a scene in which one has neither part nor lot—this is a sin only to be found among the ranks of baptized profession. It is characteristic of Christendom; it is sinning against and despising the very richest, highest, grandest display of grace that ever was or could be made in this world.
“How earnest thou in hither, not having on a wedding garment?” There is no excuse. He cannot say, “I could not afford to buy one.” All is free. The garment is as free as the feast. There is no hindrance. All is of grace—free, sovereign, compelling grace. Otherwise there would be no force in the “How?” But there is tremendous force in it; such force indeed as leaves the man “speechless.” He has nothing to say. His case is desperate.
And be it remembered, this is a sample case—a case, we hesitate not to say, bearing, with terrible emphasis, upon thousands of professors around us. Let us remember the words, “The kingdom of heaven is like.” In another place we read, “Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened.” But our parable is a similitude of the kingdom now; and it indicates the sure and dreadful destiny and portion of all those who, though appearing amongst the guests, do not really belong to Christ, are not truly converted, are merely self-indulgent, world-loving professors.
How appalling the end of such! There is no hope, no remedy, no plea. It is the utter rejection of Christ, the neglect of the great salvation, the refusal of the wedding garment; and, all the while, professing to be a Christian. In fact it is the very highest order of wickedness, the condemning sin of this day of high and wide-spread evangelical profession. As nothing can exceed the grace that shines in the gospel of God, as now preached, so nothing can exceed the guilt of those who in heart neglect it, while professing to have it. “How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?”
“Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” We cannot attempt to dwell upon this. It needs no comment. Human exposition could but weaken its force. The Holy Ghost alone can apply it to all those whom it may concern. But we earnestly pray that the reader of these lines may never be cast into that outer darkness—that place of weeping and gnashing of teeth. God grant that he may not only appear among the guests, but really have on the wedding garment, to the praise of that compelling grace to which we owe our present peace and everlasting glory.