"What shall I do to inherit
eternal life?"
The question was framed by a
professional theologian to test the orthodoxy of the great Rabbi of Nazareth.
For evidently it was rumored that the new Teacher was telling the people of a
short road to heaven.
And the answer given was
clear—no other answer, indeed, is possible, for what a man inherits is
his by right—eternal life is the reward and goal of a perfect life on earth:a perfect
life, mark—the standard being perfect love to God and man.
And this, being so, no one but a
Pharisee or a fool could dream of inheriting eternal life; and the
practical question which concerns every one of us is whether God has provided a
way by which men who are not perfect, but sinful, can be saved. The answer to
this question is hidden in the parable by which the Lord silenced his
interrogator’s quibble, "Who is my neighbor?"
Here is the story from Luke
10:30-35. A traveler on the downward road to the city of the curse (Jericho) fell among thieves, who robbed and wounded him, and flung him down, half dead, by
the wayside. First, a priest came that way, and then a Levite, who looked at him,
and passed on. Why a priest and a Levite? Did the Lord intend to throw contempt
upon religion and the law? That is quite incredible. No, but He wished to teach
what, even after nineteen centuries of Christianity, not one person in a
thousand seems to know— that law and religion can do nothing for a ruined and
dead sinner. A sinner needs a Saviour, and so the Lord brings the
Samaritan upon the scene.
But why a Samaritan? Just
because "Jews have no dealings with Samaritans." Save as a last
resource, no Jew would accept deliverance from such a quarter. Sin not only
spells danger and death to the sinner, but it alienates the heart from God.
Nothing but a sense of utter helplessness and hopelessness will lead him to
throw himself, with abject self-renunciation, at the feet of Christ.
It is not that man by nature is
necessarily vicious or immoral. It is chiefly in the spiritual sphere
that the effects of the Eden Fall declare themselves. Under human teaching the
Fall becomes an adequate excuse for a sinful life. But the Word of God declares
that men are "without excuse." For although "they that are in
the flesh cannot please God," they can lead clean, honest, and honorable
lives. The "cannot" is not in the moral, but in the spiritual, sphere.
For "the mind of the flesh is enmity against God; for it is not subject to
the law of God" (Rom. 8:7, 8, R.V.).
And this affords a clue to the
essential character of sin. In the lowest classes of the community sin is but
another word for crime. At a higher level in the social scale it is
regarded as equivalent to vice. And in a still higher sphere the element
of impiety is taken into account. But all this is arbitrary and false.
Crime, vice, and impiety are unquestionably sinful; but yet the most upright,
moral, and religious of men may be the greatest of sinners upon earth.
Why state this hypothetically?
It is a fact; witness the life and character of Saul of Tarsus. Were the
record not accredited by Paul the inspired apostle, we might well refuse to
believe that such blamelessness, piety, and zeal were ever attained by mortal
man. Why then does the apostle call himself the chief of sinners? In presence
of those to whom he was well known, he could say, "I have lived before God
In all good conscience until this day" (Acts 23:1, R.V.). And with
reference to his past life, he could write, "As touching the righteousness
which is in the law, found blameless" (Philippians 3:6, R.V.). Was this
an outburst of wild exaggeration of the kind to which pious folk of an
hysterical turn are addicted? It was the sober acknowledgment of the well-known
principle that privilege increases responsibility and deepens guilt.
According to the "humanity
gospel," which is to-day supplanting the Gospel of Christ in so many
pulpits, Paul was a model saint. In the judgment of God he was a model sinner.
And just because he had, as judged by men, attained pre-eminence in saintship,
divine grace taught him to own his preeminence in sin. With all his zeal for
God and fancied godliness, he awoke to find that he was a blasphemer. And what
a blasphemer! Who would care a straw what a Jerusalem mob thought of the Rabbi
of Nazareth? But who would not be influenced by the opinion of Gamaliel’s great
disciple?
An infidel has said that
"Thou shalt not steal" is merely the language of the hog in the
clover to warn off the hogs outside the fence. And this reproach attaches to
all mere human conceptions of sin. Men judge of sin by its results and their
estimate of its results is colored by their own interests. But all such
conceptions of sin are inadequate. Definitions are rare in Scripture, but sin
is there defined for us. It may show itself in transgression, or in failing to
come up to a standard. But essentially it is lawlessness; which means, not
transgression of law, nor absence of law, but revolt against law—in a word,
self-will. This is the very essence of sin. The perfect life was the life of
Him who never did His own will, but only and always the will of God. All that
is short of this, or different from this, is characterized as sin.
And here it is not a question of
acts merely, but of the mind and heart. Man’s whole nature is at fault. Even
human law recognizes this principle. In the case of ordinary crime we take the
rough and ready method of dealing with men for what they do. But not so in
crime of the highest kind. Treason consists in the hidden thought of the heart.
Overt acts of disloyalty or violence are not the crime, but merely the evidence
of the crime. The crime is the purpose of which such acts give proof. Men
cannot read the heart; they can judge of the purpose only by words and acts.
But it is not so with God. In His sight the treason of the human heart is
manifest, and no outward acts are needed to declare it.
The truest test of a man is not
conduct, but character; not what he does, but what he is. Human judgment must,
of course, be guided by a man’s acts and words. But God is not thus limited.
Man judges character by conduct; God judges conduct by character. Therefore it
is that "what is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of
God."
And this brings us back to the
case of Paul. Under the influence of environment, and following his natural
bent, he took to religion as another man might take to vice. Religion was his
specialty. And the result was a splendid success. Here was the case of a man
who really did his best, and whose "best" was a record achievement.
But what was God’s judgment of it all? What was his own, when he came to look
back on it from the cross of Christ? Surveying the innumerable hosts of the
sinners of mankind, he says, "of whom I am chief." And this,
as already urged, because his unrivaled "proficiency" in religion had
raised him to the very highest pinnacle of privilege and responsibility, and
thus proved him to be the wickedest and worst of men.
"But I obtained
mercy," he adds. Not because he had sinned "ignorantly in
unbelief"; for that plea counts for nothing here, though it led the Lord
to extend further mercy to him on his repentance. He was twice granted
mercy:first in receiving salvation, and next in being called to
the apostle-ship; for it is not God’s way to put blasphemers into the ministry.
But the mercy of his salvation was only and altogether because "Christ
Jesus came into the world to save sinners" (I Timothy 1:15). He had no
other plea.
The Apostle Paul’s case only
illustrates the principle of divine judgment, as proclaimed by the Lord Himself
in language of awful solemnity. The most terrible doom recorded in Old
Testament history was that which engulfed the cities of the plain. Yet the Lord
declared that a still direr doom awaited the cities which had been specially
favored by His presence and ministry on earth. The sin of Sodom we know. But
what had Capernaum done? Religion flourished there. It was "exalted to
heaven" by privilege, and there is no suggestion that evil practices
prevailed. The exponents of the "humanity gospel," now in popular
favor, would have deemed it a model community. They would tell us, moreover,
that if Sodom was really destroyed by a storm of fire and brimstone, it was
Jewish ignorance which attributed the catastrophe to their cruel Jehovah God.
The kind, good Jesus of their enlightened theology would have far
different thoughts about Capernaum!
"But I say unto you,"
was the Lord’s last warning to that seemingly happy and peaceful community,
"it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment,
than for thee" (Matt. 11:24).
What, then, we may well ask, had
Capernaum done? So far, as the record tells us, absolutely nothing. Had there
been flagrant immorality, or active hostility, the Lord would not have made His
home there; nor would it have come to be called "His own city"
(Matthew 4:13; 9:1; cf. Mark 2:1). And had there been aggressive
unbelief, the "mighty works" which He wrought so lavishly among its
people would have been restrained. Thoroughly respectable and religious folk
they evidently were. But "they repented not"; that was all.
That such people should be
deemed guiltier than Sodom, and that the champion religionist of His own age
should rank as the greatest sinner of any age:here is an enigma that is
insoluble if we ignore the Eden Fall—that "degrading dogma," as it is
now called, of the corruption of our nature—and the teaching of Scripture as to
the essential character of sin. It was not that these men, knowing God,
rejected Him, but that they did not know Him. "He was in the world, and
the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not." "But,"
the record adds, "as many as received Him, to them gave He the right to
become children of God." On receiving Him, or, in other words, on
believing on His name, they were "born of God" (John 1:10-13, R-V.).
If sin were merely a matter of
wrong-doing, if it was not "in the blood," if our very nature was not
spiritually corrupt and depraved by it, a new birth would be unnecessary. A
blind man does not see things in a wrong light; he cannot see them at all. And
man by nature is spiritually blind. He "cannot see the Kingdom of God," much less enter it. He must be born again.
But there is more in sin than
this. It not only depraves the sinner, but it brings him under judgment. Guilt
attaches to it. Salvation, therefore, must be through redemption, and
redemption can only be by blood.