Prayer

Almighty God, our hearts have a longing desire to enter into thy courts, even into the innermost place of thy dwelling, there to behold such of thy glory as our vision can endure. Thou hast inspired us with a great ambition: this is not of our own creation, but of thine; our desire is to see thee, to love thee, to read thy truth more deeply and more understandingly, and to express thy purpose in all the breadth and force of our daily life. We have come home, we have been brought home; stung by pain, made mad by hunger, embittered by disappointment, we have returned to our Father's house, and today we would be admitted to his presence. Thou didst seek us and thou hast found us, and what is worthy in us to be found thou only knowest, for we are filled with shame, and wounded and utterly undone. Behold the image is in us, but in the eyes of thine own grace, and by the grace of God we are what we are. Wherein we have done evil and spoiled all our days and utterly stained them with guilt, let thine answer be one of redemption and not of judgment: let grace prevail over law, and let the tender gospel of the blood of the Son of God prevail to silence the just accusations of thy law.

Thy law is severe upon us, but still righteous. It cries for our life, it pursues our soul, it demands the uttermost drop of blood that is in our guilty hearts; but thou hast arrested the law, thou hast spoken thy gospel, thou hast set up the cross, and Jesus Christ is now our Redeemer and Saviour, our Priest and Prophet and King, and in him would we hide ourselves as in a rock that cannot be shaken. There is no end to thy mercy, thy compassions are more in number than the dews of the morning, thy kindness is thrown round about us as a great defence and a perpetual comfort, and thine eye is upon us, not searchingly in judgment, but compassionately in redemption. Herein therefore do we hope, and in this is our abiding confidence.

Whilst we are in thine house, fill the place with thy presence. Make room for thyself, and grant unto us visions of thy face that shall make our hearts rejoice with a great gladness. There is trouble in our soul, there are great tears in our eyes, a solemn fear burdens our spirit like a weight that cannot be borne, and the little light that is in the sky is threatened to be driven out by an infinite gloom. Do thou then come to us thyself with revelation and light and assurance and with repetition of the grace that is in Christ Jesus, and so do thou command thy blessing to rest upon us as to liberate us from every chain and bring us from under the dominion of every terrifying fear.

Thou knowest what our days have been, and what tomorrow shall yet come, with new chances and opportunities, and offers of larger light and nobler liberty. Thou knowest those who have a great fear before them during the coming week, who are dreading the hour that shall try their very life, who are now crying unto thee to be fortified against the trial that awaits them. The Lord's grace be magnified above man's fear, the sustaining power of the goodness of God lift up those that are crushed, until they feel the burden no more. Enter into every one of our houses, not as a glance of light, presently to depart, but as an abiding glory, a perpetual guest, yea as King of the house, and Father and Ruler of all.

Go with us in our walking up and down in the earth, and in the doing of all the business of life; help us to do it with moral dignity, with a consciousness of integrity before God, knowing that our purpose is true, and our design wholly honourable in thy sight. Give us a right view of things: show us that our life is in our nostrils, that we are here for a moment, and will presently be gone: animate us by the spirit of Christ, fill us with the grace that is in Christ Jesus, ennoble us by every consideration that can lift up the life towards the light that is in thyself; save us from despair, deliver us in temptation, guard us in danger, surround us all the way through this slippery path, keep our feet from falling, our eyes from tears, our soul from death.

Have compassion upon us every moment of the day. Help us to forgive our enemies; with the noble charity of Christ's own spirit enable us in all things not to return evil for good, but to return good for evil; smitten on the one cheek, may we turn the other also; may it be our desire to know what Christ would be and do, that we may be and do as Christ.

The Lord help us in all time to bear the burden, to walk steadily across the swamp—enable us to find the bridge of God's own building over every difficult river—bring us every one at last to see the meaning of it all, and to give praise to him who by many a devious way has led us to the common rest. Amen.

Matthew 18:15-35

15. Moreover if thy brother shall trespass (and if thy brother shall sin) against thee, go and tell him his fault (convict him) between thee and him alone: if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother.

16. But if he will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established.

17. And if he shall neglect (refuse) to hear them, tell it unto the church: but if he neglect to hear the church (assembly or society), let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican.

18. Verily I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

19. Again I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.

20. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them. (Ubi tres, ibi Ecclesia—a saying of the Fathers.)

21. Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?

22. Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times; but, Until seventy times seven (symbolic numbers).

23. Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants.

24. And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought unto him, which owed him ten thousand talents (two millions and a half sterling):

25. But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made.

26. The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay thee all.

27. Then the lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt (literally a debt contracted through a loan).

28. But the same servant went out, and found one of his fellow-servants, which owed him an hundred pence; and he laid hands on him, and took him by the throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest.

29. And his fellow-servant fell down at his feet, and besought him, saying, Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all.

30. And he would not; but went and cast him into prison, till he should pay the debt.

31. So when his fellow-servants saw what was done, they were very sorry, and came and told unto their lord all that was done.

32. Then his lord, after that he had called him, said unto him, O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst (entreatedst) me:

33. Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?

34. And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him.

35. So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.

Brotherhood and Forgiveness

A thread of connection binds these apparently broken sentences. The subject is the child-heart—these are illustrations of its actions in daily life. A notable consequence is the fact that Jesus Christ himself was the living exemplification of his own doctrine. He was himself the child in the midst of us; he was meek and lowly in heart. Our first lesson, therefore, is founded on the fact that the child-heart may be associated with the keenest intellectual penetration. Carefully considered, it will be found that these illustrations are most remarkable instances of Christ's intellectual virility, especially as revealing profound knowledge of human nature.

How could he know how to portray sin so vividly who knew no sin himself? How could he enter into feelings which had never excited his own heart? Account for this. Yet never was sin drawn by the hand of so powerful an artist. We are told that only those who have known delirium tremens can describe its effect, or give any true hint of its infernal revelations. Surely only the sinner can talk about sin. There will be some slip of the tongue on the part of any man who attempts to talk about that of which he himself has had no experience: he will break down in his portraiture, he will employ false colours, he will set things in undue relationships. Yet the absolutely sinless One describes sin: spotless, incorruptible Virtue sits down to paint every lineament of hideous vice, the Sun of holiness undertakes to photograph the ghastliness of crime!

How can it be done? We should mock the man who knew nothing about music undertaking to give his opinion about it. A man who had never handled a brush or mingled two colours would be mocked if he claimed to paint the simplest object in nature. His want of experience would be thrown in his face as an argument against his pretensions, and justly so. It is in this way that men acquire influence and draw around themselves the trust of others; their experience is so rich, so varied, so painful in its exactness, so exquisitely coincident with the facts of this tragical life. Jesus Christ, however, undertakes to describe sin, and to track the evil motive all through and through its winding way in the cavernous heart, and to watch its coming out at the last in vivid and actual expression. How will he do this? We can tell, too, exactly how the Sun will paint the portrait of crime—we can compare the photograph with the original, we can say, "Look on this picture and on this," and laugh at the minister who undertook to complete a photograph about which he himself knew nothing. In this way we can tell precisely whether Christ preached in pretence or in truth when he attempted to describe human nature.

The doctrine must be without value if he does not fully understand the nature to which he proposes to apply it. We have many superficial religions, simply because we have many superficial theories of human nature. How can he prescribe for a disease who never heard of it before? How can he undertake to speak a language of which he does not know so much as one letter? We have easy remedies, because we have ignorant conceptions of the symptoms and realities with which we have to deal. Christianity is mysterious because sin is mysterious—the remedy must be adapted to the disease. Christ saw the mystery of our life, and adapted the mystery of his religion to it. Beware of any suggestion that is marked by extreme and miscalled simplicity in this matter of redeeming and reclaiming human nature. Human nature is not itself a simple construction: find simple keys for simple locks, but where the lock is complicated, the key must match its complication in every line.

When I enter the Christian sanctuary and hear the Christian religion enunciated, I am struck by its mysteriousness, its remoteness from all common things, its metaphysical and transcendental claim and point of observation, and in my ignorance I say, "Surely something simpler than this could be devised." But God sends me back to consider my own nature—know thyself. When I have studied the lock, I find that the mystery was in me, not in God—in sin, not in truth—in rebellion, not in redemption.

How could Jesus Christ undertake to speak that parable of the prodigal son? His audacity amazes me. Let him paint the well-behaved boy, that never left his father's house an hour, that retired regularly and rose punctually, and pursued the even tenor of his way all through the hours of the day, with undeviating punctiliousness; let him tell us about his prayers, his virtues, his untempted integrity, his paper loyalty—there he may be at home; but Son of God, Child of the heavens, Companion of angels—how can he undertake to describe the way of the prodigal? He will stumble; he will make the most ludicrous mistakes. How will he talk about riotous living and harlots, and all the ways of darkness and all the speech of hell? He will pronounce that speech like a foreigner; there will be an accent in its utterance that will make us smile as if mocking the man who had undertaken to speak such a speech. Let any critic sit down to consider the parable of the prodigal son simply as a delineation of human nature, and say if he could amend one word, add one hue to the vivid colouring, or mark in more graphic boldness the outline of the madman's career.

Whence this knowledge of human nature? Truly Jesus needed not that any should testify of man, for he knew what was in man. That he should never have been corrected in his delineation of virtue is a commonplace, but that he should never have been criticised successfully in his delineation of vice transcends in power of surprise any miracle of his with which I am acquainted. Take this instance of trespasses and forgiveness and ask how far they coordinate with all we know of human nature. Did the Man know what he was talking about? Did he pronounce our language like a foreigner? Did he give merely superficial etchings, or faithful and undeniable delineations of our very selves? Let us see.

"If thy brother shall trespass against thee." But do brothers trespass against one another? How bold the assumption, how improbable the circumstance! The Man romances. It is impossible that brother should trespass against brother—what is the speaker thinking of? Brothers will love brothers, brother will never disagree with brother—it must be, "If a man shall trespass against his enemy—kill a wild beast, shoot a bird of prey." It is not so. "If thy brother shall trespass against thee." This man knows what he is talking about, he is familiar with facts, he looks at human life in its actuality. He paints nothing in merely rosy hues, he proceeds upon the assumption that the whole social head is sick and the whole social heart is faint. He who grips fundamental facts in this way may possibly have some remedy for the disease which he depicts.

"If he will not hear thee." It is impossible—a brother not hearing a brother, a man turning a deaf ear to a fellow-man who goes to expostulate with him, a man hardening himself into an unresponsive stone when the human voice falls upon his ear in piteous and pleading tone! O Christ, thou art now in regions too remote for thy thought to be familiar with—so would one talk about such words as these—but what are the facts of daily life?

Have you met with men who will not listen to you when you go to state your complaint, or to ask for redress, or to demand that simple justice be done? Are there stubborn men, are there deaf souls, are there those who draw themselves up into impenetrable isolation when you wish them to listen to statements which you suppose will correct their judgment and bring their conscience to bear intelligently upon a given set of circumstances? Is the picture correctly drawn?

"Take with thee one or two more." How did he, the Christ, know how to treat a social difficulty? If the brother would not hear the one man, how would he possibly hear the one or two more? "That every word may be established." Why, would the man go back upon his own word? What need have we of witnesses in social life, especially in Church or Christian life? When a brother has spoken a sentence, he will never surely modify it, recall it, deny it, trifle with it—why should there be one or two more listening, taking notes, and called in for the purpose of verification? Truth is simple, truth is easy, truth will never be denied, truth will stand when all things fall—why should there be one or two more? Have you never felt the necessity of having a witness present when a man was talking who had done a trespass? The very fact that he had done the trespass gave you ground for believing that he would do the further trespass of denying his own word. How he knows us, how he searches us through and through, how his eye burns upon us—there is nothing hidden from the light thereof! A man who talks so about our personal and social relations may have something to say presently of a deeper kind.

"Let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican." There is a point at which patience gives out. Jesus Christ points to a similar circumstance in our higher relations—the Lord is long-suffering and very kind of heart, and his eyes are filled with pity and he longs to see us come home, and he has prepared broad welcome for our prodigal, penitent hearts; yet there is a point at which he says, "Let him alone: this sin hath forgiveness neither in this world nor in that which is to come." To God we may be as a heathen man and a publican, to our Creator we may be an eternal offence. This is the mystery of life—we may be cast out of our Father's heart, and be thrown by our own sinful hands beyond the bounds of penitence and forgiveness.

Jesus Christ then says that whenever a process is conducted in this fashion and the final word is spoken, be it a word of binding or of loosing—whatever is done rightly upon earth is done also in heaven. The earthly books on which the transaction is written may be burned, but the registry above is beyond the reach of fire. Not only so, he says that where the right process is conducted, and two or three come together to settle the matter, there he is. This matter is not settled in stubbornness and resentfulness or in a spirit of social injustice, but it is done religiously; where two or three are gathered together in my name, to cut off any man or to take any man back again into the fold which he has left, there am I in the midst of them. This passage has been quoted in reference to prayer meetings, and in reference to small religious gatherings, and has been misquoted so as to bring in the words, "and that to bless." Jesus Christ is not speaking about such meetings—his subject is altogether different; it is solemnly and graciously true of every meeting of hearts for the purpose of worshipping God through Christ; but in this instance Jesus Christ is speaking about another subject altogether, and therefore the text must not be wrested from its immediate application to bear but a secondary reference to other sets of circumstances. He would rather not be present when any man is accounted a heathen man and a publican—but he must be there. He is Judge as well as Saviour.

Peter now interposes and shows that he knows nothing about human nature. We see how grand Christ is by seeing how pitifully little every other man is in comparison. Peter comes forward with a half-question, based upon a half-view of human nature: "How oft shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him?" The question is founded upon a foolish assumption. You do not know how high the mountain is till you see some other mountain and set it up against it shoulder to shoulder. Mont Blanc does not impress strangers who visit the neighborhood for the first time—they are rather surprised that the mountain is not higher. But let them climb the old king's shoulder, and one by one how the mountains are left behind, as the traveller goes up into awful solitude. So with this Christ. We could have read this passage ending with the words "There am I in the midst of them," and never felt its grandeur; but when we hear Peter, our own brother, who ought to have known all about human nature, we feel ashamed of him. "How oft shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him?"—the self-complacent dog! "My brother sin against me?" Just like us! It never occurred to Peter that he might sin against his brother. Standing there in conscious perfectness of character and disposition, will and thought, godly man, serene and most pious soul, he wonders how often he has to play the great man by forgiving somebody else! He starts from a wrong point. The question is not an innocent one, it is steeped in guilt if he did but know it; but whoever assumes his own peccability, who ever starts the question from the possibility that he may be the offender?

Peter further discloses his littleness by making a suggestion as to the number of times—"till seven times?" Now let us look at Mont Blanc and see how far this little molehill compares advantageously with the infinite majesty. "I say not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy times seven." My thought is not your thought, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so are my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

The answer appals me, the answer rejoices me. You have in this sentence an illustration of the severity and the goodness of God. We are called upon to forgive the repentant brother until seventy times seven. If he turn saying, "I repent," forgive him. How oft? a countable number of times? No, an uncountable number of times! Therein is the discipline most severe. Why, then, does the text rejoice me? In this way; because if God asks so much from me, what will he be prepared to be and to do himself in reference to my repentance? I will point out his own words if the argument should grow very serious and high—laying my finger upon this celestial arithmetic, how I might plead with him! The Lord is slow to anger, plenteous in forgiveness. He multiplies to pardon; it is not a thin transparent wave he allows to flow over the black stone of my sin, but sea upon sea, Atlantic upon Atlantic he pours upon that blackness, letting it be found no more for ever. 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, with multiplied forgiveness, wave upon wave, billow upon billow of forgiving love, and our sin shall be as a stone cast into the depths of the sea.

Out of this reasoning Jesus brings the flower of a parable about the kingdom of heaven being likened unto a certain king which would take account of his servants. Search that parable and you will see that the kingdom of heaven puts forward rights and claims, and insists upon their being met. There is no trifling with the law of righteousness in this parable: no mere bubble of sentiment is this, but a living thing with a living claim. He who has nothing to pay must be sold, and payment must be made. Read this parable further, and you will see that whilst righteous claims are set forth the spirit of mercy is consulted. "Have patience with me and I will pay thee all." Observe, there is nothing sentimental here; the debt is acknowledged, payment is promised, patience is invoked, and the king, grand in imperial majesty, becomes grander still in moral clemency. So the flower is rooted in the rocks, and the rocks are rooted in the sun, and the sun is rooted in God.

We need not pursue the bad servant, who, being forgiven himself failed to forgive another; we must hasten to the solemn word which closes the parable. "So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses." There can be no doubt, then, whatever as to the operation of this law of retribution and pardon—a child can understand this parable; no secret wizardry or black art prevents us from seeing God's meaning in this great matter of human forgiveness. There is no grammatical puzzle in the interpretation of this parable; do not seek to find any way out of it; it comes to one of two things; either forgive for Christ's sake and be forgiven, or do not forgive and be not forgiven.

Wondrous is the word, "If ye from your hearts." Forgiveness is sometimes an affair of the lips, pardon is accompanied with a thousand reservations. I know of no men so disinclined to forgiveness as professing Christians. How barbarians do I cannot tell, but professing Christians cannot forgive. Ministers of the gospel there are who have never known the joy of having forgiven a brother man. They forgive with parentheses, they forgive with great big ifs following the reluctant words. They will forgive but not forget, they will watch, they will wait, they will hope, they will even hope for the best, but it will take a long time to restore confidence! Marvellous Christianity,—evangelical doctrine, diabolical temper. Spotless orthodoxy,—black, hideous devilism. Forgiveness should be the delight of Christian men. Forgiveness must be based upon repentance—there must be confession or there cannot be pardon. "But if thy brother turn again, saying, I repent, forgive him"—do not take six months to see how he behaves; you must behave well. "If thy brother turn again saying" I repent, forgive him." Do not say, "It will be a long time before the old love comes back"—where would you be this day if God forgave you with a distinct intimation that he was going to withhold his old love? Happy he who can pray, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us." That is the crux of prayer,—that is the supreme difficulty of intercession!

Homiletic Note on the Parable

Matthew 18:23-35.—The principal ideas suggested by this parable are:—1. The kingdom of heaven recognises individual responsibility, —a king would take account of his servants; 2. The kingdom of heaven is a kingdom of justice,—"his lord commanded him to be sold," etc. (Matthew 18:25)! 3. The kingdom of heaven is a kingdom of mercy,—"the lord of that servant was moved with compassion;" 4. The kingdom of heaven teaches that personal obligation should become a social benefit,—he who has been forgiven should forgive; 5. The kingdom of heaven having failed in mercy will have recourse to absolute justice,—"his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him."