The Approachableness of Jesus
A Sermon
Delivered on Sunday Evening, May 3rd, 1868, by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
"Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear
him."—Luke 15:1.
THE MOST DEPRAVED and despised classes of society formed an inner ring of
hearers around our Lord. I gather from this that he was a most approachable
person, that he was not of repulsive manners, but that he courted human
confidence and was willing that men should commune with him.
Upon
that one thought I shall enlarge, this evening, and may the Holy Spirit make
it a loadstone to draw many hearts to Jesus. Eastern monarchs affected great
seclusion, and were wont to surround themselves with impassable barriers of
state. It was very difficult for even their most loyal subjects to approach
them. You remember the case of Esther, who, though the monarch was her
husband, yet went with her life in her hand when she ventured to present
herself before the king Ahasuerus, for there was a commandment that none
should come unto the king except they were called, at peril of their lives.
It is not so with the King of kings. His court is far more splendid; his
person is far more worshipful; but you may draw near to him at all times
without let or hindrance. He hath set no men-at-arms around his palace gate.
The door of his house of mercy is set wide open. Over the lintel of his
palace gate is written, "For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that
seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened."
Even
in our own days great men are not readily to be come at. There are so many
back stairs to be climbed before you can reach the official who might have
helped you, so many subalterns to be parleyed with, and servants to be
passed by, that there is no coming at your object. The good men may be
affable enough themselves, but they remind us of the old Russian fable of
the hospitable householder in a village, who was willing enough to help all
the poor who came to his door, but he kept so many big dogs loose in his
yard that nobody was able to get up to the threshold, and therefore his
personal affability was of no service to the wanderers. It is not so with
our Master. Though he is greater than the greatest, and higher than the
highest, he has been pleased to put out of the way everything which might
keep the sinner from entering into his halls of gracious entertainment. From
his lips we hear no threatenings against intrusion, but hundreds of
invitations to the nearest and dearest intimacy. Jesus is to be approached,
not now and then, but at all times, and not by some favored few, but by all
in whose hearts his Holy Spirit has enkindled the desire to enter into his
secret presence.
The
philosophical teachers of our Lord's day affected very great seclusion. They
considered their teachings to be so profound and eclectic that they were not
to be uttered in the hearing of the common multitude. "Far hence, ye
profane," was their scornful motto. Like Simon Stylites, they stood upon a
lofty pillar of their fancied self-conceit, and dropped down now and then a
stray thought upon the vulgar herd beneath, but they did not condescend to
talk familiarly with them, considering it to be a dishonor to their
philosophy to communicate it to the multitude. One of the greatest
philosophers wrote over his door, "Let no one who is ignorant of geometry
enter here;" but our Lord, compared with whom all the wise men are but
fools, who is, in fact, the wisdom of God, never drove away a sinner because
of his ignorance, never refused a seeker because he was not yet initiated,
and had not any thirsty spirit to be chased away from the crystal spring of
truth divine. His every word was a diamond, and his lips dropped pearls, but
he was never more at home than when speaking to the common people, and
teaching them concerning the kingdom of God.
You
may thus contrast and compare our Lord's gentle manners with those of kings,
and nobles, and sages, but you shall find none to equal him in condescending
tenderness. To this attractive quality of our Lord I intend, this evening,
as God shall help me, to ask your earnest attention. First, let us prove
it; secondly, illustrate it; and, thirdly, enforce or improve
it.
I.
First, let us PROVE THE APPROACHABLENESS OF CHRIST, though it really needs
no proof, for it is a fact which lies upon the surface of his life.
1.
You may see it conspicuously in his offices. Those offices are too
many for us to take them all tonight. We will just cull a handful; say
three. Our Lord Jesus is said to be the Mediator between God and man.
Now, observe, that the office of mediator implies at once that he should be
approachable. A daysman, as Job says, is one who can put his hand upon both;
but if Jesus will not familiarly put his hand on man, certainly he is no
daysman between God and man. A mediator is not a mediator of one—he must be
akin to both the parties between whom he mediates. If Jesus Christ shall be
a perfect mediator between God and man, he must be able to come to God so
near that God shall call him his fellow, and then he must approach to man so
closely that he shall not be ashamed to call him brother. This is precisely
the case with our Lord. Do think of this, you who are afraid of Jesus. He is
a mediator, and as a mediator you may come to him. Jacob's ladder reached
from earth to heaven, but if he had cut away half-a-dozen of the bottom
rounds, what would have been the good of it? Who could ascend by it into the
hill of the Lord? Jesus Christ is the great conjunction between earth and
heaven, but if he will not touch the poor mortal man who comes to him, why
then, of what service is he to the sons of men? You do need a mediator
between your soul and God; you must not think of coming to God without a
mediator; but you do not want any mediator between yourselves and Christ.
There is a preparation for coming to God—you must not come to God without a
perfect righteousness; but you may come to Jesus without any preparation,
and without any righteousness, because as mediator he has in himself all the
righteousness and fitness that you require, and is ready to bestow them upon
you. You may come boldly to him even now; he waits to reconcile you unto God
by his blood.
Another
of his offices is that of priest. That word "priest" has come
to smell very badly nowadays; but, for all that, it is a very sweet word as
we find it in Holy Scripture. The word "priest" does not mean a
gaudily-dressed pretender, who stands apart from other worshippers within
the gate, two steps higher than the rest of the people, who professes to
have power to dispense pardon for human sin, and I know not what beside. The
true priest was truly the brother of all the people. There was no man in the
whole camp so brotherly as Aaron. So much were Aaron and the priests who
succeeded him the first points of contact with men, on God's behalf, that
when a leper had become too unclean for anybody else to draw near to him,
the last man who touched him was the priest. The house might be leprous, but
he talked with him, and examined him, the last of Israel's tribes who might
be familiar with the wretched outcast; and if afterwards that diseased man
was cured, the first person who touched him must be a priest. "Go, show
thyself to the priest," was the command, to every recovering leper; and
until the priest had entered into fellowship with him, and had given him a
certificate of health, he could not be received into the Jewish camp. The
priest was the true brother of the people, chosen from among themselves, at
all times to be approached; living in their midst, in the very center of the
camp, ready to make intercession for the sinful and the sorrowful. So is it
with our Lord. I read just now, in your hearing, that he can be touched with
a feeling of our infirmities, and that he was tempted in all points like as
we are, yet without sin. Surely, you will never doubt that if Jesus
perfectly sustains the office of priest, as he certainly does, he must be
the most approachable of beings, approachable by the poor sinner, who has
given himself up to despair, whom only a sacrifice can save; approachable by
the foul harlot who is put outside the camp, whom only the blood can
cleanse; approachable by the miserable thief who has to suffer the
punishment of his crimes, whom only the great High Priest can absolve. No
other man may care to touch you, O trembling outcast, but Jesus will. You
may be separated from all of human kind, justly and righteously, by your
iniquities, but you are not separated from that great friend of sinners who
at this very time is willing that publicans and sinners should draw near
unto him.
As
a third office let me mention that the Lord Jesus is our Savior; but
I see not how he can be a Savior unless he can be approached by those who
need to be saved. The priest and the Levite passed by on the other side when
the bleeding man lay in the road to Jericho; they were not saviors,
therefore, and could not be, but he was the savior who came to know where
the man was, stooped over him, and took wine and oil and poured them into
the gaping fissures of his wounds, and lifted him up with tender love and
set him on his own beast, and led him to the inn. He was the true savior;
and, O sinner, Jesus Christ will come just where you are, and your wounds of
sin, even though they are putrid, shall not drive him away from you. His
love shall overcome the nauseating offensiveness of your iniquity, for he is
able and willing to save such as you are. I might mention many other of the
offices of Christ, but these three will suffice. Certainly if the Spirit
blesses them, you will be led to see that Jesus is not hard to reach.
2.
Consider a few of his names and titles. Frequently Jesus is called
the "Lamb." Blessed name! I do not suppose there is any one here who
was ever afraid of a lamb; that little girl yonder, if she saw a lamb, would
not be frightened. Every child seems almost instinctively to long to put its
hand on the head of a lamb. O that you might come and put your hand on the
head of Christ, the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.
"Oh see how Jesus trusts himself
Unto our childish love,
As though by his free ways with us
Our earnestness to prove!
His sacred name a common word
On earth he loves to hear;
There is no majesty in him
Which love may not come near."
Again,
you find him called a Shepherd: no one is afraid of a shepherd. If
you were travelling in the East, and you saw Bedouins or Turkish soldiery in
the distance, you might be alarmed; but if some one said, "Oh, it is only a
few shepherds," you would not be afraid of them. The sheep are not at all
timid when near the shepherd. O poor wandering sheep, you, perhaps, have
come to be afraid of Christ, but there is no reason why you should be, for
this heavenly Shepherd says, "I will seek out my sheep, and will deliver
them out of all places where they have been scattered in the cloudy and dark
day."
"See Israel's gentle Shepherd stands
With all engaging charms."
Timid, foolish, and wandering though you may be, there is nothing in the
good Shepherd to drive you away from him, but everything to entice you to
come to him. Then, again, he is called our Brother, and one always
feels that he may approach his brother. I have no thought of trouble or
distress which I would hesitate to communicate to my brother here, for he is
so good and kind. I do not think I could be in any trouble which I should
not expect him to do his best to help me out of. I never feel that there is
any distance between him and me, nor do you, I hope, feel so with regard to
your brothers. Even so, is it with this Brother born for adversity.
Believer, how is it that you are sometimes so backward and so cold towards
Jesus? Christ is approachable.
"The light of love is round his feet,
His paths are never dim;
And he comes nigh to us when we
Dare not come nigh to him."
You need not think that your troubles are too trifling to bring to him; he
has an open ear for the little daily vexations of life. Brethren, you can
come to the good elder Brother at all hours; and when he blames you for
coming, let me know. He is called, too, a Friend; but he would be a
very unfriendly friend who could not be approached by those he professed to
love. If my friend puts a hedge around himself, and holds himself so very
dignified that I may not speak with him, I would rather be without his
friendship; but if he be a genuine friend, and I stand at his door knocking,
he will say, "Come in, and welcome; what can I do for you?" Such a friend is
Jesus Christ. He is to be met with by all needy, seeking hearts.
3.
There is room enough for enlargement here, but I have no time to say more,
therefore I will give you another plea. Recollect his person. The
person of our Lord Jesus Christ proclaims this truth with a trumpet voice. I
say his person, because he is man, born of woman, bone of our bone, and
flesh of our flesh. The Lord Jesus Christ is God, but if he were God only,
you might well stand at a distance, and shudder at the splendor of his
majesty. But he is man as well as God, and so it comes to pass, as Dr. Watts
puts it—
"Till God in human flesh I see,
My thoughts no comfort find;
The holy, just, and sacred Three
Are terrors to my mind.
But if Immanuel's face appear,
My hope, my joy begins;
His name forbids my slavish fear,
His grace removes my sins."
When
I see Christ in the manger where the horned ox fed, or hanging on a woman's
breast, or obedient to his parents, or "a Man of sorrows and acquainted with
grief," a poor man without a place whereon to lay his head, then I feel that
I can freely come to him. Think of him as being precisely such as you are,
in all and everything except sin, and then you will never have a thought
that he will chide you for drawing near, or drive you away when you venture
to supplicate him. But I want especially to say to you that if you could but
see my Master's person as he was when here on earth, you would have
henceforth and for ever the thought that you might not come to him expelled
from your mind. I know not what may have been his beauties, or what may have
been the appearance of his lovely countenance, but of this I am persuaded,
that if he could but come here tonight, and I could vacate this platform for
him whose shoe-latchet I am not worthy to unloose, you who groan under a
sense of unworthiness would not run away. If Moses stood here with his
flaming countenance, you would shade your eyes, and ask that if you must
look upon him he might wear a veil; but if Christ were here, oh! how you
longing seeking ones would gaze upon him! There would be no drooping of the
eyelids, no covering of the face, no alarm, no anguish—his face is too sweet
for that. And if the Master should walk down the aisles, the most timid of
you would long to touch the hem of his garment and to kiss the floor whereon
he had set his feet. I know you would not fear to look into that face. And
then that voice, how would you be charmed, you poor trembling seekers, if
you heard him say, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me;" you would
discover such meekness and lowliness in him, that you would not think of
starting back. Oh! if your eyes could but see him, I feel persuaded that,
graciously drawn by his charms, your hearts would hasten to him. Well,
believer, come to him, come to him; come close to him. Come with your
troubles and tell him all about them. Come with your sins and ask to have
them washed away anew.
"Let us be simple with him, then,
Not backward, stiff, or cold,
As though our Bethlehem could be
What Sinai was of old."
And you, poor trembling sinner, come to him; come to him now, for he has
said, "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." Oh! if your eyes
were opened to behold him, you would perceive that the glory of his person
lies not in the splendor which repels, but in the majesty which divinely
attracts.
4.
If this suffice not, let me here remind you of the language of Christ,
He proclaims his approachability in such words as these, "Come unto me, all
ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Ye
horny-handed sons of toil, ye smiths and carpenters, ye ploughers and
diggers, come unto me, yea, come all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and
I will give you rest. And again, "If any man thirst, let him come unto me
and drink." He invites men to come; he pleads with them to come; and when
they will not come he gently upbraids them with such words as these, "Ye
will not come unto me that ye might have life." And, again, "O Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent
unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a
hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." It is
not "I would not," but "ye would not." Why, the whole of
Scripture in its invitations, may be said to be the language of Christ, and
therein you find loving, pleading words of this kind, "Come now, and let us
reason together: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as
snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." "Let the
wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him
return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for
he will abundantly pardon." All our blessed Lord's sermons were so many
loving calls to poor aching hearts to come and find what they needed in him.
I pray that the Holy Spirit may give an effectual call to many of you
tonight. It would glad the heart of the Redeemer in the skies if you would
come to him for salvation, for you may come, since there is no barrier
between you and the Savior of men. What is it keeps you back? I repeat it
with tears, what is it keeps you back?
The
old proverb truly saith that "actions speak louder than words," and
therefore let us review the general ways and manners of the Redeemer. You
may gather that he is the most approachable of persons from the actions
of his life. He was always very busy, and busy about the most important
of matters, and yet he never shut the door in the face of any applicant. Her
Majesty's cabinet have to discuss most important political matters just now,
but compared with the work which filled the Savior's hands and heart, their
discussions are mere trifles. Our Master might well have claimed seclusion,
but he did not. He sought it but he found none, save only at midnight, when
he watched and prayed. No sort of appeal for audience did Jesus frown upon.
There were certain mothers in the land, poor simple-minded women, and they
took it into their heads one day that they would like to have the Master's
hands put upon the heads of their little ones. So they came, bringing their
boys and girls, but some of the disciples said, "The Master must not be
disturbed by children; go ye your ways, and take your children back." But
what said he? How different from his followers! he rebuked their harshness,
and said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, for of such is the
kingdom of heaven." You see he is a child's friend. Dear young people, think
of that. Jesus does not drive you away, but though he is so great and
glorious that all the angels of God worship him, yet he stoops to hear the
prayers and praises of little children. Seek him now, for those who seek him
early shall find him. Let me tell you another story. There was a woman in
the city who was a sinner. You know the meaning, the dark sad meaning of
that title in her case; I need not explain that. Poor soul! Her sin had
caused her to be despised and shunned by everyone, but she had been
forgiven, and in gratitude she poured the precious ointment on her beloved
Savior's feet, and then wiped them with the hairs of her head; and when the
Pharisee Simon would have had her rebuked, the loving Master said, "She
loves much because she has had much forgiven." He is approachable by all,
then, even by the worst; even the harlot need not fear to draw near to
him—his touch can make her pure. I have noted one thing in Christ's life,
and noted it with delight. Our Lord was always preaching, and he often grew
weary, as we do, and therefore he wanted a little retirement, but the
multitude came breaking in upon his solitude, following him on foot when he
had sailed away to escape them; this was troublesome, and to us it would
have been irritating, yet he never uttered an angry, fretful syllable. There
was no rest for him, because of the eager crowd; but did he ever say, "How
these people tease me; how they worry me"? No, never; his big heart made him
forget himself. He was approachable to all at all hours; even his meals were
disturbed, but he was gentle towards those thoughtless intruders. Not once
was he harsh and repulsive. His whole life proves the truth of the prophecy,
"The bruised reed he will not break, and the smoking flax he will not
quench." He graciously receives the weak and the feeble ones who come to
him, and sends none empty away.
6.
But, if you want the crowning argument, look yonder. The man who has lived a
life of service, at last dies a felon's death! Look upon his head girt with
the crown of thorns! Mark well his cheeks whence they have plucked off the
hair! See the spittle from those scornful mouths, staining his marred
countenance! Mark the crimson rivers which are flowing from his back where
they have scourged him! See his hands and his feet which are pierced with
the nails, and from which ensanguined rills are flowing! Look to that face
so full of anguish, listen to his cry, "I thirst, I thirst;" and as you see
him there expiring, can you think that he will spurn the seeker? As you see
him turn his head and say to the dying thief by his side, "Today shalt thou
be with me in paradise," you dare not belie him so much as to deem that you
may not come to him. You will outrage your reason if you start back from
Jesus crucified. The cross of Christ should be the hope, the anchorage of
faith. You may come, sinner, black, vile, hellish sinner, you may come and
have life even as the dying thief had it when he said, "Lord, remember me."
"There is life in a look at the crucified One."
Surely, you need not be afraid to come to him who went to Calvary for
sinners. Why linger? Why hesitate? Why those blushes, sobs, and tears?
"Why art thou afraid to come,
And tell him all thy case?
He will not pronounce thy doom,
Nor frown thee from thy face.
Wilt thou fear Immanuel?
Or dread the Lamb of God,
Who, to save thy soul from hell,
Has shed his precious blood?"
Did
I hear a whisper, did anybody say that Christ is now in heaven, and that he
may have changed? Ah, groundless insinuation! Do you know what he is doing
in heaven at this moment? He is exalted on high to give repentance and
remission of sins. What a help that is to those who are coming to him! This
repentance is the greatest want of coming sinners, and he from the skies
supplies it. Moreover, "he ever liveth to make intercession for us." His
occupation in the skies is to plead for those sinners whom he redeemed with
his blood, and hence he is able to save them unto the uttermost. Since he is
the intercessor for souls, there is no reason why you should start back, but
every reason why you should boldly come to the throne of the heavenly grace,
because you have a High Priest who is passed into the heavens.
"Compell'd by bleeding love,
Ye wandering sheep draw near;
Christ calls you from above—
His charming accents hear!
Let whosoever will now come,
In mercy's breast there still is room."
Here
I leave this part of the subject. Some of you little know how heavily this
sermon is hanging on my mind. I preach my very soul to you this day. I wish
I knew how to preach so as to win some of you for my Lord, this evening; I
should be glad to go even to the school of affliction if I might learn to
preach more successfully. But I can do no more. May the Eternal Spirit, in
answer to the prayers of his people, which I hope are going up now, be
pleased to make you feel the sweet attractions of the cross of Christ, and
may you come to him, so that it may be said again tonight, "Then drew near
unto him publicans and sinners."
II.
I now shall proceed, with as great brevity as I can command, TO ILLUSTRATE
THIS GREAT TRUTH.
I
illustrate it, in the first place, by the way which Christ opens up for
sinners to himself. What is the way for a sinner to come to Christ? It
is simply this—the sinner, feeling his need of a Savior, trusts himself to
the Lord Jesus Christ. This was the perplexity of my boyhood, but it is so
simple now. When I was told to go to Christ, I thought "Yes, if I knew where
he was, I would go to him—no matter how I wearied myself, I would trudge on
till I found him." I never could understand how I could get to Christ till I
understood that it is a mental coming, a spiritual coming, a coming with the
mind. The coming to Jesus which saves the soul is a simple reliance upon
him, and if, tonight, being sensible of your guilt, you will rely upon the
atoning blood of Jesus, you have come to him, and you are saved. Is he not,
then, approachable indeed, if there is so simple a way of coming? No good
works, ceremonies, or experiences are demanded, a childlike faith is the
royal road to Jesus.
This
truth is further illustrated by the help which he gives to coming
sinners, in order to bring them near to himself. He it is who first
makes them coming sinners. It is his Eternal Spirit who draws them unto
himself. They would not come to him of themselves, they are without desires
towards him, but it is his work to cast secret silken cords around their
hearts, which he draws with his strong hand, and brings them near to
himself. Depend upon it, he will never refuse those whom he himself draws by
his Spirit. Rest assured he will never shut the door in the face of any soul
that comes to feed at the gospel banquet, moved to approach by the power of
his love. He said once, "Compel them to come in," but he never said, "Shut
the door in their faces and bolt them out."
I
might further illustrate this to the children of God, by reminding you of
the way in which you now commune with your Lord. How easy it is for you
to reach his ear and his heart! A prayer, a sigh, a tear, a groan, will
admit you into the King's chambers. You may be in a very sad frame of mind,
but when you come to him, how soon he makes your soul like the chariots of
Ammi-nadib. Dark may be your midnight, but as soon as you draw nigh to him
your night is over. "He giveth liberally, and upbraideth not." While he acts
thus with you, the sinner may very well believe that he will receive him
too.
The
approachableness of Christ may also be seen in the fact of his receiving
the poor offerings of his people. The very holiest deeds which you and I
can do for Christ are poor and faulty at the best. As I sat studying at my
table last night, there was before me a little withered flower—a sprig of
wall-flower—which has been lying for some weeks on my table. It comes from a
very, very poor child of God, many miles away, who gets a blessing from
reading my sermons, and she has nothing in the world besides to give me, but
she sends me this flower, and I value it because it is a token of Christian
affection and gratitude. So is it with our Master. The very best sermons
that we preach, and the largest contributions we give to his treasury, are
only just like that poor little withered wall-flower; but the Master puts
our service in his bosom, and keeps it there, and thinks much of it because
he loves us. Does not that prove how generous, how condescending, how tender
he must be? Believe him to be so, ye fearful souls, and come to him.
The
ordinances wear upon their forefront the impress of an ever approachable
Savior. Baptism in outward type sets forth our fellowship with him in his
death, burial, and resurrection—what can be nearer than this? The Lord's
Supper in visible symbol invites us to eat his flesh and drink his blood:
this reveals to us most clearly how welcome we are to the most intimate
intercourse with Jesus. The heaven of heavens shall afford us yet another
illustration. There are tens of thousands now in the skies who came to Jesus
just as they were, in all the filth and deshabille of the lost
estate, and he received every one of them into his heart of love and arms of
power. There are many thousands on earth, there are some thousands now in
this Tabernacle, who can testify that they have found Jesus to be a very
tender and generous friend. Now, if he has received us, why should he not
receive you? Be encouraged to believe that inasmuch as he has received
others he has open arms for you also.
Let
me joyfully remind you that Jesus never has rejected a seeking sinner.
There is not to be found in all the kingdoms of the universe a single
instance of a sincere seeker after Christ being cast away, and there never
shall be, for he hath not said to the seed of Jacob, "Seek ye my face in
vain," but he has said, "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out."
Beloved, if there had been a single soul cast away we should have known of
it by now. It is eighteen hundred and sixty-eight years now, and if a
solitary penitent had been rejected, we should have heard of it before now,
for I will tell you of one who would have spread it abroad, and that is the
devil. If he could get a single instance of a soul who had repented and
trusted Christ, but found that Christ would have nothing to do with him, it
would be a standing scandal against the cross which Satan would delight to
publish. I know, poor sinners, what the devil will tell you when you are
coming to Christ—he will describe Jesus as a hard master, but do you tell
him he is a liar from the beginning, and a murderer, and that he is trying
to murder your soul by making you swallow his poisonous lies.
III.
In the third place, we come TO ENFORCE THIS TRUTH; or, as the old Puritans
used to say, improve it.
The
first enforcement I give is this: let those of us who are working for the
Master in soul-winning, try to be like Christ in this matter, and not
be, as some are apt to be, proud, stuck-up, distant, or formal. Oh, dear,
dear! the lofty ministerial airs that one has seen assumed by men who ought
to have been meek and lowly. What a grand set of men some of the preachers
of the past age thought themselves to be! I trust those who played the
archbishop have nearly all gone to heaven, but a few linger among us who use
little grace and much starch. The grand divines never shook hands with
anybody, except, indeed, with the deacons, and a little knot of evidently
superior persons. Amongst Dissenters it was almost as bad as it is in most
church congregations, where you feel that the good man, by his manner, is
always saying, "I hope you know who I am, Sir; I am the rector of the
parish." Now, all that kind of stuck-upishness is altogether wrong. No man
can do good in that way; and no good at all comes of assuming superiority
and distance. The best teacher for boys is the man who can make himself a
boy; and the best teacher for girls is the woman who can make herself a girl
among girls. I often regret that I have so large a congregation; you will
say, "Why?" Why, when I had a smaller congregation at Park Street, there
were too many even then, but I did get a shake of the hand sometimes; but
now there are so many of you that I scarcely know you, good memory as I
have, and I seldom have the pleasure of shaking hands with you—I wish I did.
If there is anybody in the wide world whose good I wish to promote, it is
yours; therefore I wish to be at home with you: and if ever I should affect
the airs of a great man, and set myself above you all, and separate myself
by proud manners from your sympathy, I hope the Lord will take me down and
make me right again. We may expect souls to be saved when we do as Christ
did, namely, get publicans and sinners to draw near to us. Now, that is a
practical point which, though you have smiled about it, will not I hope be
forgotten by you.
There
is this to be said to you who are unconverted—if Jesus Christ be so
approachable, oh! how I wish, how I wish that you would approach him.
There are no bolts upon his doors, no barred iron gates to pass, no big dogs
to keep you back. If Christ be so approachable by all needy ones, then needy
one, come, and welcome. Come just now! What is it keeps you back? You think
that you do not feel your need enough, or that you are not fit to come—both
of which suspicions are self-righteousness in different shapes. O that you
did know but your need of Jesus, in order to be able even to do so much as
feel your need. You are a poor, miserable bankrupt before God, and Christ
alone can enrich you. Do not talk of fitness; there is no such thing:—
"All the fitness he requireth,
Is to feel your need of him:
This he gives you;
'Tis the Spirit's rising beam."
Come, then. There is such mercy to be had; there is such a hell to be
escaped from; there is such a heaven to be opened for you; delay not, but
believe at once. Come, come, come!
"Come, and welcome;
Come, and welcome, sinner, come!"
I stand at mercy's door tonight, and say to every passerby, in the name of
the Master, "My oxen and fatlings are killed; come, come, come to the
supper!" O that you would come this very night! Some of us are coming to the
Lord's Table to celebrate his love because we have first come to himself. I
do not ask you who are not saved to come to that table—you ought not to
come; you must first come to Jesus, and then you may come to this ordinance.
Meanwhile, the best thing you can do is to come to Christ, and let me ask
you to remember this, that in proportion as Christ is accessible, so your
guilt will be increased if you do not come to him. If it be easy to come to
him, what excuse can there be for you if you refuse to accept him? I have
tried to tell you what the way of salvation is. If I knew how to use better
language, or even coarser language, if that would suit you, it should be
alike to me if I might but touch your consciences, break your hearts, and
bring you to Christ. But I protest before you that if you will not come to
my Master, I can do no more. I shall be clear of your blood at the last, and
in the day of judgment your ruin must be upon your own heads. But let it not
be so. Jesus bids you come. O you needy ones, let your need impel you to
come at once, that you may find eternal life in him.
The
last word is—if Jesus be such a Savior as we have described him, let
saints and sinners join to praise him. How marvelous that our dear Lord
should be so condescending to us unworthy ones as to come all the way from
heaven to earth for us! Oh, matchless love that made him stoop to grief and
death! Oh, unspeakable condescension, to come thus to poor sinners' hearts,
bearing mercies in both his hands, and freely giving them to undeserving
rebels! For this unspeakable grace let us praise him! You who are coming to
his table, draw near with praises in your mouths. Come praising the
condescending love in which you have participated, and which has saved you
from eternal death. Even you who sit as spectators, I do trust will have you
your mind filled with grateful thoughts.
"Jesus sits on Zion's hill
He receives poor sinners still.
Blessed be his name, world without end!
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