“Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, 2Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds. 4Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin. 5And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as unto children, My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: 6For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. 7If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? 8But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. 9Furthermore we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them reverence: shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live? 10For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness. 11Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. 12Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees; 13And make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed.”
—Hebrews 12: 1-13
We are about to enter on the consideration of a solemn and most instructive portion of God’s holy word. May each reader of these lines be able to enter into its full spiritual meaning. May he be one of those on the heavenly race course, running that race diligently yet patiently, with one great object filling his heart and his eye with Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith.
The striking figure, under which the truth to which we have referred is brought before us, is that of the ancient games. Those who were selected to run the race divested themselves of everything that would impede them in their course, retaining only what was absolutely necessary, the fewer the garments and the lighter their weight, the better. On the day of the race thousands assembled to look on. All was interest and intense expectation. Every eye was bent on the course and as each one started forward towards the goal the interest of the spectators increased till it was at its height. The shout of joy was raised when that goal was reached and the prize had been won. On this striking and beautiful figure the lessons of spiritual truth in this chapter are founded.
Two views are held with respect to the “cloud of witnesses.” One is, that the Christian, the runner in the heavenly race, is the great object of interest by those who have passed on to God—“the spirits of just men made perfect:” that that great “cloud of witnesses” now before the throne look down upon us in this race with intense interest: that they are witnesses of all our sorrows and joys, of all that affects us here, whether it be small or great. And if it be asked, would it not grieve our departed ones to see us weeping, and in trouble and sorrow? it is replied, no; for they see the end—the issue of all—which we do not: and that end is joy, whatever may be the path that leads to it.
The other view is, that this “cloud of witnesses” are the worthies mentioned in the previous chapter: that in them, beginning with Abel, the first Christian saved by faith, and recounting each one up to the time in which the Apostle wrote, we have a numberless host of witnesses to the faithfulness, the mercy, the grace, and the long-suffering of God. They were each, in their day and generation, or in some special act in their lives, witnesses to something in God—to some point in His character. This seems the more probable view; and yet I doubt not both views are true. The Word of the Lord is a two-edged sword. It seems to be so here. It is a truth cutting both ways. There are numerous instances in this blessed Book of a similar kind. Why should we pare down God’s blessed Word so frequently to one Particular view? Is not truth many-sided? May not one particular passage reflect various shades of Divine truth? Surely it may! God’s words are like the rays of the sun casting their brightness through the descending shower, and reflecting them in varied but beauteous colors on the dark background of our sin-stained hearts. Oh for largeness of heart and expansion of mind in things pertaining to God!
Perhaps the expression “cloud of witnesses” is not without meaning. The cloud is everywhere, in Scripture, the symbol of God’s presence. It was an inseparable accompaniment of God’s people. Christ and His people are one. What drew attention of old to the people was the cloud, “Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke?” So, it is Christ in His people that is the great object of attraction and not they themselves. It is the cloud accompanying the witnesses, coming up out of the wilderness that the Spirit of God notices. It may be so in the chapter before us.
Another feature is the faith of these witnesses. As we look over the recorded list in the previous chapter, we fail almost to discern any faith in the history of some of the characters—at least any worthy of the Spirit’s notice or of being held up as an example. If there be any, we say, it is at least, so overlaid with infirmity and sin in the individual as to be beneath notice, or at any rate unworthy of record. So man judges: but God is not like man. He notices the least germ of faith and passes over the infirmity and sin. He can discern a bright spark in the heart of even a Rahab. He will not pass it over. It is treasured in His heart and shall have its reward. The names of the world’s great ones, together with their mighty deeds, have long ago been buried in oblivion but the faith of a Rahab survives them all and is set before the Church as a bright example. Say not, how much deception there was connected with it; the deception was the evil, unchanged heart. The faith was the new principle which had not yet had time to work. Our hearts, reader, are not one whit better than this harlot’s. Cast not the first stone. “Look unto the rock whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence ye are digged.” The treasure is in “earthen vessels.” Be humble, and let all the glory be to Him who made thee to differ.
“Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us.” We notice in these words a remarkable distinction between “weights” and “sins.” A weight is not in itself a sin. It may become a sin, but in itself, it is not sinful. It may be in itself something quite right, quite in accordance with the mind of God. A man may have his business, his family, his worldly interests, and many important matters on his mind. These are all quite right. They are God’s appointed portion for each of His children. But when these things come to press heavily on the mind and heart; when they become a weight, a drag, so that we are hindered in running the race to heaven, then they have become sins. When the cares of business or the concerns of a family occupy an undue prominence in a man’s mind and make him so anxious that his thoughts are continually running in that direction then they have become sins. When anything—no matter what—below Christ takes up so much of a man’s time, or occupies his thoughts so as to leave him little time to be alone with God, interferes with his spiritual communion with God or so occupies him as that he cannot at a moment drop it and enjoy his Saviour, then, whatever it may be, the weight has become a sin. Whatever it may be that draws a film between the soul and God and hides the brightness of a Saviour’s countenance or that so hangs upon it as to make it run heavenward with a slower pace; then that weight has become a sin.
In fact, it is like Mary’s sorrow. All sorrow is sacred. When, however, it keeps the soul too long or too exclusively hovering round the sepulcher or hinders it from seeing a living Saviour at its side, then it becomes a sin. It is an important distinction. We see in God’s Word the same distinction between “transgression” and “sin.” “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.” These are by no means synonymous terms. Transgression is the fruit; sin is the root. Transgression is the stream; sin is the fountain. Transgression is the effect; sin is the cause.
We have a remarkable instance of this distinction in the eighth chapter of St. John’s Gospel. The scribes and Pharisees brought before the Lord a woman taken in adultery—“in the very act.” Their object was to tempt the Saviour. “Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?” If the Saviour condemned the woman, where would be His mercy? If He forgave her, He would set aside the law. They thought He was on the horns of a dilemma. They had Him fast. The marvelous wisdom displayed in the Lord’s answer is not seen at first sight and is attributable to the opening words of the chapter. Of course, we speak of Him as man only. We are told after the debates previous to this incident that, “every man went unto his own house.” but “Jesus went unto the mount of Olives.” He came forth from the place of prayer into the temple. Hence the power and the wisdom displayed in His answer. Yes, prayer is power? Coming from the inner chamber to meet the temptations of the devil—this is the sure path to victory.
Mark it here, in the case of the Saviour. “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” The scribes and Pharisees point out the transgression, the act of adultery. They point the finger to the fruit, transgression. the Lord points them to the root—sin. The Lord does not say, He that is without transgression let him first cast a stone at her. He could not have said that. If he had, these men could have cast the stone at her, for they were not guilty of the transgression, the act of adultery. He says. “He that is without sin among you” and thus shows them that the great evil is, not in the effect, but in the cause—sin; that they are all sinners; and that as a sinner man is the criminal and not as a transgressor only. He thus cuts the ground from under them completely and shows them that there is no difference between them and her as to guilt; that it is not degrees of guilt He notices, but the cause of guilt—sin. “For all have sinned” (it says nowhere all have transgressed, though that also is true) “and come short of the glory of God.” What marvelous wisdom thus displayed in His reply! Nowhere in the word of God have we a more striking instance. Thus it was that, while forgiving the woman’s sin, He yet vindicated Moses’ law by leaving it still untouched as the great denouncer of man’s transgression.
The way in which the scribes and Pharisees looked at this woman is a perfect picture of the human heart. Look, for instance, at the parable of the Pharisee and the publican. The Pharisee looks only at transgression, and says “God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.” He looks at the transgression at the stream, not at the fountain. He thanks God he is not like these men. And so he could and justly thank God he was not like them. So far as transgression was concerned, he was free from such outward crimes. He judged as a natural man and natural men never go deeper than mere transgression in his estimate of sin. In fact, this is all he can see. He cannot go deeper for he has not the spiritual sight to penetrate. He knows nothing of sin. All he knows is of transgression. It is only the Spirit of God that can show him sin. Only He can give him that sight that will make him look deeper. And herein is the beautiful and striking contrast of the publican. He looks not at transgression. He passes by the stream and goes to the fountain. “God be merciful to me a sinner.” Ah, the head was down the face was covered, the breast was smitten; the whole man was covered with dust and ashes! All was right before God here. He had spiritual sight. The other had natural sight. One spoke as a man. The other spoke as a spiritual man.
And the scribes and Pharisees present us with a true picture of our own hearts at all times. What is it we are always pointing out in the conduct of others? Their transgressions. What is it we are always having on our lips, always condemning in them? Their transgressions. What is it we are constantly doing—we Christian men and women—doing every day? Dragging some poor sinner like ourselves into God’s presence and pointing the finger of reproach at some transgression we see in him. And what is the Lord saying to us every time we do it? He is cutting the ground from under us, by leading us to look at the root and to see that we are all in the same condemnation. Every time our fellow sinners’ transgression is in our mind and on our lips, He whispers, “He that without sin among you, let him first cast a stone.” Go down deeper to the cause and see if you are any better than that poor adulteress or murderer or thief. Reader, mark this and look not at thy transgressions nor yet at the transgressions of others. Go down deeper and behold thyself a sinner—all dark and guilty within. Thou who art secretly distinguishing thyself from others because thou hast not been guilty of their transgressions, behold the fountain, the root, the cause within thee! Thou art a sinner, with all thy freedom from transgression. It is as a sinner thou art under the wrath of God, not as a transgressor. Oh, think of this and betake thee now to the blood of Jesus, which can alone reach that hidden root within thee!
Let us now return to the consideration of the passage from which we have diverged. Next to the distinction between weights and sins, let us notice the expressive word “lay aside.” When we lay aside anything, it is not, so to speak, thrown away. If we take off a garment, we do not cast it aside as useless. We have an appointed place, and there we “lay aside” that garment. It is a place known in the household and specially set apart for the purpose. So is it with regard to the “weights” of which we have been speaking. There is a place set apart for them. There they are to be laid—taken off like a garment, and put in the appointed place. What is that place? “Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.” It is Jesus. On Him, these weights are to be laid. He is at our very side for the purpose. “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.” Let not that weight rest upon the burdened heart, upon the wearied mind, upon the jaded body, upon the troubled spirit, or deepen one more furrow on that careworn brow. That is not the place for it; “lay aside every weight” on Jesus. This was the purpose for which God laid it upon you that it should take you to the Saviour, there to lay it on Him and thus learn how well He can bear it.
Remember, this is heaven’s appointed place—“the nail … in the sure place”—on which is to be hung every weight of the human heart. And remember also the “every weight”; that which presses lightly as well as that which presses heavily; not only the great trials of life but the little crosses of each hour. The great trials of life come but seldom, the famine, the pestilence, the earthquake—these are easily seen and God’s hand recognized by the most careless. Nor yet the sad bereavement, making the heart to bleed and the eye to weep; nor the sudden, overwhelming crash in business, plunging into poverty those who once had every comfort, these and such like are of rare occurrence. Not these alone are to be cast on the Saviour but the little crosses, the little disappointments, the little vexations and annoyances of each hour which chafe the spirit so sorely and gradually whiten the locks with care—all those little circumstances in domestic life and in public life which we call things going across. Perhaps the servants are not what they ought to be; perhaps your children have been unusually fretful, perhaps some word may have been uttered, thoughtlessly, which has given rise to hasty words or tempers or ruffled another’s spirit; perhaps some member of the family has some failing or infirmity which is constantly exposing the household to discomposure of spirit or making things not as pleasant as they might be. Whatever it may be, “let us lay aside every weight.” Go to Jesus with them all. Let Him bear them for you. Let them not hinder you in running the race. You cannot bear them yourself, little though they seem to be. You cannot and God never intended that you should. If you try to bear them yourself, they will crush you. It is the nature of all trials to become heavier by the heart dwelling upon them. The feather will come to weigh like a mountain of lead. Trials become heavier by being borne. So it will be with you. Bear it yourself, it will weigh you down—it will crush you. You cannot run the race to heaven—impossible. Oh take every weight then and lay them aside on Jesus and see how sweet, how full, how free, His compassions are to your troubled spirit! Try Jesus, dear suffering servant of Christ. Lay your weights there and learn what a precious, all-sufficient Saviour He is.
Some will come to you by the way of offering sympathy, and will say, Why do you allow such a trifle as that to weigh upon you? How can a sensible person, like you, take such a thing as that to heart? Fling it away, and think nothing more about it. Ah, dear reader, the man, whoever he may be, that can speak thus, is utterly unfit to sympathize! Keep such a man away from the troubled heart. He is but one of Job’s miserable comforters. He forgets what trial really is. Suppose the Lord were to treat us that way, where would His tried and tempest-tossed children be now? Ah, Jesus comforts not his dear ones thus! Such comfort betrays a sad state of mind. Trial is not measured by our estimate of it. One man may look upon my sorrow with a smile and I may regard his as equally trifling. “The heart knoweth his own bitterness,” “Bear ye one another’s burdens,” “weep with them that weep.” The tears of the Lord’s suffering ones, from whatever cause they may spring, are reflected in the face of Jesus. He weeps in our sorrows and rejoices in our joys. Childhood’s tears find a place in heart, as well as those of the strong man. Take all to Him, dear tried one. The changed look, the altered expression, the unkind word, the demand you cannot meet, the charge you cannot answer, the problem you cannot solve, the perplexity you cannot unravel, the network undefined that twines itself around your feet, all casts a shadow over the brow and dulls the elasticity of the once happy spirit—oh take all to Jesus! “Lay aside” that weight, whatever it may be. Hesitate not because it seems a little one. It will not be little long if you bear it yourself. Shrink not for fear of troubling Him. Let not your evil heart say, “trouble not the Master.” Your danger, your sin is that you trouble Him so little. Oh, deal very closely with Jesus, by “laying aside every weight” on Him!
So also with your sins. “let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us.” This does not refer to any particular sin, such as unbelief. It means simply any sin to which the soul feels itself particularly exposed, whatever besets us most easily and into which we are liable to fall. “Lay aside” these sins. How? Take them to the blood of Jesus. We have thus two things to grapple with all through life’s journey—our weights and our sins. For both of these, there is a rich provision at our very side—the person of Christ for the weights, the blood of Christ for the sins. Therefore we are encouraged to “lay aside” both the one and the other.
But mark how important are the words “lay aside” when applied to our “sins.” Nothing produces such a saddening effect on the soul as sin. Nothing more effectually keeps it back in the race to heaven. The heaviest drag of all is forgotten sin—sin committed, not immediately confessed, and thus forgotten. These sins we are daily falling into. They enter in through our eyes and ears, our thoughts and words, our deeds and duties. We rush into the thick of life’s daily cares and are absorbed in them. There are impure thoughts, hasty words and tempers, sights and sounds, only too readily suggesting evil deeds, acts not straightforward or thoroughly transparent services, yea, holy services not free from self-interest. These, apart from sins of a darker type, we are all of us more or less daily falling into. Perhaps our spiritual sensibility is not deep, our consciences not very tender so that we do not think much of sins like these. Alas, there are many of God’s children with whom this is the case. There is a sad, a fearful lack of spiritual sensibility, of tenderness of conscience. Only the grosser sins of life affect them. So far have they fallen, so little are their souls in living communion with God that if their outward life is comparatively free from these, there is no secret compunction of soul. No wonder they live in the outer court and realize so little of the preciousness of Christ. There is an earthliness about them. They live in the world’s atmosphere. There is little inward peace and joy. They are spiritually dull and heavy. It must be so. There is only one antidote to this—that the soul be much alone with God. So strongly is the current of the world pressing upon us on every side that we must be dragged down its fatal stream.
In the history of you and me, reader, the daily history, every hour of the day should be linked with heaven. Whatever we are engaged in, there should be no hour of that day in which some thought does not shape itself into prayer and rise to the throne of God. In the believer’s history, the hours of the day are sanctuaries from which the worshiper should never be absent. This will be to link heaven and earth in one glorious intercourse. This will keep the soul calm in the midst of the excitement of life’s daily duties and if the Lord should come in the midst of them, make it ready to receive Him with joy. Be “ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their lord.”
But to return to forgotten sin, perhaps in thought or else in word or it may be in act, we have sinned. Conscience quickly tells us of it. Perhaps very gently, so gently that there is a danger of being unaware of its reminding. What do we do? Do we go at once, in thought, to the blood with that sin? Most likely we will not. The hours pass on and we have forgotten it. The tide of other things rolling in upon the soul has thrust it out of sight. Ah, reader, though we have forgotten our sin, that sin has not forgotten us! It has added another crust on the heart. It has drawn another film between the soul and the bright shining of God’s countenance. It has cast another shadow between us and heaven. We have forgotten it but it has secreted itself within. It has found a lodgment. One look at the blood at the moment would have set all right. But we did not and now we feel it. The day has come to a close. We open the word, how dull and insipid it seems! We seem to read, and read, and obtain no light, enjoy no comfort, derive no profit! We close it and bend the knee in prayer. What an earthliness of spirit there is in us. What unaccountable deadness! What inability to speak with God! What a mockery it seems! We are speaking to the air, we cannot pray! We ask, How has all this come? What has been the cause? Ah, it is forgotten sin. There is a secretion, a lodger in the soul, poisoning its purest springs. Nothing but the blood can restore it. We ought to have gone at the time when conscience gently touched us and then this sorrow would have been saved. We did not and now God is showing us how bitter sin is and that before He can thaw the frozen heart and unloose the sealed lips there must be a baptism in the cleansing blood of Jesus. O reader, learn the solemn lesson! “Lay aside” the sin, the moment it is committed, in the blood of the Lamb. Go in thought to its precious stream and then all will be well with thy soul. Deal closely deal continually, deal earnestly with the blood. Let not sin be forgotten and the enemy of thy soul triumph. Be not ignorant of his subtlety. Be beforehand with him. “Lay aside” the weight, and let not that become a sin; “lay aside” the sin, and let not that become a “weight” to keep thee back in the race.
But what does all this imply? That our souls have close dealings with God every hour of the day; that we bring Him into everything; that we have one aim before us each day of our lives, come what may—to walk with God. Reader, is this your aim? What “weights” or “sins” can you be “laying aside” if you have not dealings with God continually? It is through such laying aside that we come to prove the Saviour, how precious He is as our burden-bearer and sin-bearer. His preciousness is then no theory, no mere doctrine. Oh no! It becomes a deep reality. It is only then we come to know Him. It is thus we are “taught of God.” Reader, do you know Him thus? Have you this constant dealing with Him? Is Christ precious to you from such close dealings? Have they made Him “the chiefest among ten thousand” the “altogether lovely” to your soul?
But to proceed with the passage, “let us run with patience the race that is set before us,” The Christian race is activity, progress, growth. It is no half-hearted work. We are to “run” that race, but run it with “patience.” This is not the word we should have used. We should have said, run with diligence, run with speed, run with haste. No, says the Spirit of God, “run with patience” Why is this? The word is divinely chosen. When we see a man in a hurry or running with haste, it occurs to us that he may be too late if he does not make haste—that he may miss the object of his race. This cannot be with the child of God. To him the prize is sure. It is secured to him by the finished work of the Lord Jesus. It forms part of the everlasting covenant made between God and Christ and in which every blessing is secured, eternally secured, to the soul that trusts in Jesus. The victory, the prize, the “crown of glory that fadeth not away.” are all in that covenant and, come what may, the child of God shall not miss them. These things are not conditional to the believer. If they were, he never would have one. The prize never could be gained. These blessings were conditional, it is true. They were all to come to the believer on condition that Christ fulfilled the terms of that covenant. God made that covenant with Christ and seemed to say, If You fulfill the terms of it, all blessings shall be Yours, on behalf of Your people. Christ came and did fulfill the terms of that covenant. And Christ, speaking through David, says, “he hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure.” Therefore all things are sure to the believer. They are made sure by what Christ has done. The conditions on which they were to be given were all fulfilled by the Lord Jesus. Therefore, the believer’s blessings are all eternally secured to him in Christ. His salvation is secured. His victory over death is secured. His prize is secured. His crown of glory is secured. Every step of his journey through this troublesome world and the grace that is needed for it, is “ordered in all things and sure.” Every hour of sorrow is an “ordered” hour. Every perplexing dispensation is “ordered.” Every dark path, every bitter cup, every tearful eye, every bleeding heart—all are “ordered.” They are not only “ordered,” but “ordered in all things.” The timely relief, the lightened pressure, the helping hand at the critical moment, the kind word in due season, the series of little circumstances in an hour of trial, when the mind is too excited to think and too burdened to arrange—all are “ordered” things. Not only so, but every comfort, every help, every blessing needed by the feeble, helpless one at such trying seasons has inscribed on it, in God’s own hand—“sure.” You shall not lack one, believer, whoever you are. They are all secured to you in that everlasting covenant, every condition of which was fulfilled by Christ on your behalf. And having this everlasting covenant, what then shall be your portion here but blessing?
What then? Why then another pilgrim song;
And then a hush of rest divinely granted;
And then a thirsty stage (ah me, so long!),
And then a brook, just where it most is wanted.
What then? The pitching of the evening tent!
And then, perchance, a pillow, rough and thorny;
And then some sweet and tender message, sent
To cheer the faint one for tomorrow’s journey.
What then? The wailing of the midnight wind;
A feverish sleep; a heart oppressed and aching;
And then a little water-cruse to find
Close by my pillow, ready for my waking.
What then? I am not careful to inquire:
I know there will be tears, and fears, and sorrow;
And then a loving Saviour drawing nigh,
And saying, “I will answer for the morrow!”
What then? For all my sins His pardoning grace;
For all my wants and woes His loving-kindness;
For darkest shades the shining of God’s face;
And Christ’s own hand to lead me in my blindness.
What then? A shadowy valley, lone and dim;
And then a deep and darkly rolling river;
And then a flood of light-a seraph hymn—
And God’s own smile, forever and forever!
Therefore, it is that there is no haste, no hurry, in the heavenly race. We are to run, but with, “patience.” All is sure, for all is secured in Christ Jesus our Lord. “Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith.” The great design of God in setting this race before His people is to make them like His dear Son, to mold and fashion us day by day into His blessed image. This is the explanation of all God’s dealings, both in sorrow and in joy. To accomplish this great purpose of God, however, there must be some great transforming medium. Sorrow of itself will never make us like Christ. Nay, its tendency may be to make us very unlike Him. It may harden the heart. It may stir up feelings of rebellion and hatred. No, afflictions will never, of themselves, mold us into His image. What will then? Only beholding Himself. Therefore we are exhorted to run this race “Looking unto Jesus.” It is as if God would say, My great desire is not the running in the race, but to make you like My beloved Son to so mold and shape and fashion you on earth that when you come into My presence there may be some resemblance in you to Him. This can only be accomplished by the eye and the heart keeping constantly before it the one great transforming medium—Christ Jesus.
We know how true this is from a scientific point of view. No faculty of the body is as powerful for taking in impressions from external objects as the eye. Doubtless, this is the reason why the figure is used, association begets assimilation. What the mind most dwells on it becomes like. The desires strongly bent on sensuality will betray that very sensuality in the countenance. The heart strongly directed towards the Saviour will develop the calmness and meekness of that Saviour in its countenances. If we had greater discernment, if our own mental and spiritual faculties had not been so dulled by sin, we should be able to look into each other’s countenances and from the very expression written in them, trace the prominent affections of the heart, trace the governing principle under which it lived and moved. In heaven, we shall be free from sin. A wonderful change will, in consequence, take place in all our bodily, mental, and spiritual faculties. We shall see, see deeply, into each other’s hearts and minds. All will be transparency there and nothing will be seen in us or without us, that will not be reflected in the countenance of the Lord Jesus. As one has beautifully remarked, the angels will know us to be brothers and sisters of the Lord Jesus, by our likeness to Him. In calling us to look to Jesus in this race, we see a great principle in God’s word. Man’s tendency, when he wants to find some foundation on which he can rest for salvation, is to look within—into his heart. Does he need peace? He looks at his own heart to see if he can find in its state any warrant for that peace. This is the direction in which the thoughts of man naturally and invariably turn—inward.
Now when the salvation of the soul is the question, or when peace and assurance are the points to be settled, the word of God never, in any instance, directs man to look within. He is always directed to look outside himself. “Look unto me, and be ye saved”—“Behold the Lamb of God.” It is true that the Christian is to look inward, to see that there is nothing in his life and conduct, in his desires, motives and aims, that is hindering the brightness of the Lord’s countenance from shining on his soul. But it is not so in the matter of salvation. He is then to look out. Salvation has been accomplished by the finished work of Jesus, look out at that and accept it. Thy sin has all been put away by that blood shed on Calvary—look out at that and be at peace. God teaches us this truth in many ways. If in sorrow, trial, or trouble, how is the heart comforted? Not by looking in and dwelling on its troubles, but by a word spoken from without by some kind friend, or by some deed of kindness from without. If there be diseases in the frame, do we look within for the remedy? No, that is without, in the physician and his medicine. In fact, this truth is taught us in the meanest affairs of life and forced upon our notice by almost every object in the natural world around us. Everything seems to say, Look without, not within! The word of God in its teachings is but nature’s counterpart. God is the great Teacher in both. Nature is only the echo of revelation and, rightly interpreted, teaches the same lesson—“Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none else.”
Observe how remarkably the Bible confirms this view. “But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same,” “it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.” “And they shall see his face; and his name (the name is the expression of character) shall be in their foreheads.” Thus we see that the great transforming process on earth, in running this heavenward race, is ever “Looking unto Jesus.” Looking in sin. Looking in sorrow. Looking in joy. Looking there, and only there. This is the direction every eye takes in heaven. This is the direction in which every eye should be bent on earth. And He is “the author and finisher of our faith” He began the work in the Church, and He will finish it. “The hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundation of this house; his hands shall also finish it…” He began the good work in the soul of the awakened sinner and He will finish it. The first thought, the first reflection, the first dim and distant feeling after Christ, the first uplifted eye, the first falling tear, the first gleam of peace and joy, of sunshine after darkness-He began it all, and having begun it He will Surely finish it. He puts not His hand to the plow and looks back. Oh no! “he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” He is the Finisher as well as the Author of our faith. Let us take courage then, and “be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.” “the path of the just is as the shining light, that”—despite all clouds—“shineth more and more unto the perfect day.” Every lamb in the Shepherd’s flock is “kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation.”
“Not one object of His care
Ever suffered shipwreck there.”
But let us notice another precious truth. “Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.”
Three things were set before the Lord Jesus—the race, the joy, the crown. These three things are set before each of His followers. He is their great Forerunner, who has entered for them within the van. A forerunner is one who leads a company after him. Thus Jesus has run that race and is now leading His people after Him, that they may be with Him where He is and behold His glory.
He, too, was a cross-bearer. What made Him endure, the cross? The joy set before Him. His eye was never off that joy for a moment. And is not the same joy set before us? Is not the same glorious prize to consummate our journey? Shall not we, too, wear the same crown, and sit on the same glorious throne? Surely we shall: “And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them…”
Why are we not cross-bearers too? Why do we shrink from it? Why do we try to shift it off, or make it press as lightly as possible? Why is there so little bold confession of Christ in word and deed before men? Because our hearts are so little in the joy before us, our eyes are so little on the crown and the glory of the resurrection morning. We live so far below our standing. We live as beggars instead of kings’ sons and daughters. We live down here, very little above. The glory is such a distant thing with us. It is separated by years or dimmed by earthly influences, hence the little enduring of the cross.
And not only so, but these are truths which react on each other. We bear so little of the cross because our hearts are so little in the coming joy and glory. We enter so little into the joy because we bear so little of the cross. The heart in the joy will make us take up the cross and the taking up of the cross will bring “great joy” into the soul. “For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.” Mark reader, the, “as” and “so.” The two things run side by side. The one is in exact proportion to the other. As is the suffering, so is the consolation. The deeper your soul goes down into the valley of Christ’s sufferings, the deeper will be the joy in your heart. If you have not one, you cannot have the other. Is there little outward suffering? Then there is little inward joy. Is your path comparatively smooth, the sky above you, as to all earthly things, bright and do you meet with few piercings of heart from the world in which you live? Then, reader, your soul is asleep. The outward absence of conflict is a certain symptom of the inward sleep of the soul. There may be nothing in your outward conduct indicating decay, but it is Surely there. No conflict? Then there is no running in the race. No conflict? Then there is no joy. The soul is asleep, though there may be no flaw the keenest eye can detect, though the profession may be so clear and sound as to elicit the admiration and applause of all men.
Reader, may God write this solemn warning on your heart! The coming of the Lord Jesus will be preceded by very little cross-bearing among God’s people. It will be a day of deep sleep, a time when there shall be a great falling away, even among those we have reason to believe to be true Christians. It shall be a day the striking feature of which, both among God’s people and the people of the world, shall be, “Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.” The Lord shall find most of His own asleep. He shall find them in scenes and circumstances and states of heart that shall crimson their faces with shame when they behold Him. The door is open now and God’s great work is going gloriously on. Soon it shall be shut. And then will follow the form of godliness, the absence of the cross, the sleep and slumber of religious indifference. The spiritual light shall be dim in God’s people. Compromise and concession will make rapid advances. In such an hour shall the coming of the Son of man be. Reader, beware! Look to yourself! That day is very near! May God keep you! “be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.”
But mark the expression—“endured the cross.” He did not wear it, He bore it. There is a great deal of difference between cross-wearing and cross-bearing. To wear the cross is easy. To bear it is hard. Yet the hollow hypocrisy of the world would fain make men believe they are bearing the cross because they are wearing it. They want to make men believe they are bearing the cross. They are little concerned about bearing it under the approving eye of God alone. There is far too much of this cross-wearing among us. It is on the increase, and simply because the inward reality is on the decrease. Cross-wearing is becoming fashionable. It is fascinating our young men and young women. It is beginning to possess matchless charms for “silly women laden with sins.” O reader, be it yours to be a cross-bearer, to stoop down. “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily”—looking only for the approving smile of your Saviour.
But I would not have you suppose that you are to make crosses for yourself. That is the other extreme of the self-righteous picture. No, you are not to wear the cross, nor to make it, but bear it when the world makes it for you. This is to be like Christ. The world made the cross for Him and He meekly and lovingly bore it. Do you do the same? And depend upon it, the more that cross is borne in secret, the less will there be of its outward manifestation in the folly and hypocrisy of cross-wearing.
But mark the closing words of this verse—“and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.” He is “set down.” The expression is significant. The priests under the law never sat down in the offering of their sacrifices. They were always standing. Why? Sitting down is a figure of rest and satisfaction. “Never with those sacrifices…make the comers thereunto perfect.” There was always again a remembrance of sin. They were imperfect and could give no permanent rest to the conscience of the worshiper. “It is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins.” Christ’s sacrifice was a perfect one. It needed not to be repeated. This showed its perfection, “For by one offering he hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified.”—so that now Christ is said to sit down in heaven. He is satisfied with His finished work on Calvary. There was no rest before for the soul. There was no satisfaction in heaven before. But now God and man are at rest in the finished work of Jesus.
But mark the expression—“and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.” The right hand of the throne is the place of the heir. The Prince of Wales takes the place at the right hand of the throne of England on all state occasions and none else but he can take it. Why? Because he is the heir to that throne. This is the figure used in the passage before us. Christ “is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.” He is the heir to it. “The kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdoms of our Lord Jesus Christ.” He shall soon come forth as “King of kings, and Lord of lords.” On His head shall be “many crowns.”
Observe how two things are united here—the cross and the crown. He “endured the cross…and is set down at the right hand of the throne.” It is the same with us. From the moment we came to the cross, God put before us the crown. “Ye do shew the Lord’s death till he come.” “Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood.” What is the next thing? “Behold, he cometh with clouds.” Between the cross and the crown the Church has no portion on earth. Her place in the meantime is sorrow, suffering, and testimony. From that cross, her eye overleaps everything to the comings of the Lord. As it was with her Saviour, so is it with her. “We look for the Saviour,” not for an improved world, not for the evangelization of mankind. Not for anything but Jesus only. We shall be “satisfied when we awake with His likeness;” but never till then.
“For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds. Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin.” Weariness comes first—the effect of difficulties, trials and persecutions continually pressing upon us. Then follows faintness-such spiritual weakness as gives one the idea of death. The believer becomes so discouraged by the way that he is tempted to relax his energies and become less wakeful and watchful. Then follows faintness, the semblance of death. The cross is not borne. The soul’s spiritual health declines. The man seems like one of the world. There is no mark of heaven upon him. What is the antidote? “Consider him.” See what He bore for your sake. See what a precious salvation He won for you! See at what a cost He won it! See how He loved you, yea, how He loves you still! See how He is interceding for you on high! See what a crown of glory He has won for you! Ye tried and tempted, ye buffeted and storm-tossed ones “consider him!” Ye trembling, weary, and exhausted ones, ye bereaved and desolate ones, “consider him” “Ye have not yet resisted unto blood.” but He did. Ye have not yet borne the bloody scourge, and cross, and crown of thorns, but He has. Ye have not yet “endured such contradiction of sinners” against yourselves, but He has. Ye have not yet “sweat…as it were great drops of blood” like those which fell from His agonized brow in Gethsemane, but He has. Oh, “consider him” and be neither weary nor faint.
“And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as unto children, My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him:” To despise the Lord’s chastening is the sin of many. What is it to “despise” it? It is to make light of it, to think meanly of it, to allow it to rest lightly on our minds. How many, to whom God sends trials, thus make light of them! They ‘try to make the best of them,’ as the world says—try to think as little of them as they can help. They rush into pleasure, or folly, or sin, or into the whirl and bustle and excitement of this world’s cares and duties, in order to keep them from dwelling on them. What is this but “despising” God’s “chastening?” He sends them to make us think, think soberly, solemnly and deeply. He sends them that we should be led into our secret chamber, search our hearts and lives, and ask the serious question, Why has God sent me this? What great end has He in view in permitting it? This is the reason they are sent, and yet men try to drown them, to think as little of them as they can! Surely this is “despising the chastening of the Lord.” They are sent in love. Man tries to put the solemn message away from him. He despises the Lord’s chastening. Then God says, I have spoken, but he will not hear—Let him alone.
O fearful words! Reader, “despise not thou the chastening of the Lord.” Does not the Bible teach us that there is a point in man’s history when God’s patience and long-suffering end; when the stamp of reprobation is set upon the brow and man is left alone; an example of mercies and judgments neglected or abused and gospel warnings despised? Beware, reader! The line which separates the day, when man may be saved from the night, when the light of mercy is withdrawn, may be passed unwittingly. The conscience may be at ease, the spirits gay and life may be full of brightness and sunshine, but by Him who searches the heart it may be seen that such despisers of God’s chastening have passed the confines of hope and have entered on that path, each step of which is deepening into the blackness of eternal darkness. Reader, especially unconverted reader, whom God has visited with many strokes, again I say, Beware! “despise not thou the chastening of the Lord.” See that they lead thee, as a poor sinner, to the feet of Jesus; then all will be well.
But how is the child of God to receive these chastening? As proofs of a Father’s love and in His hands to produce, ere long, peaceable fruits of righteousness. This they shall do to His child, no matter how dark, or grievous, or bitter they may be. No greater proof of His love can He give us than by sending these strokes and though the flesh may quiver under their piercing, yet shall they produce blessed results. A day is coming, even here, when we shall Surely praise Him for each one. Oh, how we shall bless Him for them in heaven! There we shall see how deep the love was that sent them; but never fully till we are there. How these strokes are brightening the crown of glory for us! How each one will make the golden harp vibrate more sweetly! How each one will add melody to the new song! How loud will be our praises then, most of all, for earth’s “deep calleth unto deep!”
And what effect should this have upon the believer’s present course? “Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees; and make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed.” What a practical word! Let us examine it, in closing. The lifting up of the hands is the figure under which prayer is brought before us. “I will therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands.” The same mode of engaging in prayer is brought before us in other parts of God’s word. The hands that “hang down,” therefore, conveys to us the neglect of prayer or the interruption of communion with God. The “feeble knees” presents another view. It indicates the weakness of the body, its liability to fall, its tottering step and irregular walk. Spiritually it refers, doubtless, to “the race” to which the apostle alludes. There can be no running in the race, when the knees are feeble. The chastisements and rebukes to which he had referred were “weights,” and unless you “lay aside” them on Jesus, would make the hands “hang down” and the body stoop with their pressure. Wherefore, the Apostle would say, In the midst of these strokes, which are all loving messages from a Father’s hand, be much in prayer, lift up the hands which hang down; also strengthen the feeble knees by laying the weights aside on Jesus. Thus will the soul become stronger, and will run the race with no feeble knee, with no tottering step, with no irregular walk.
But he adds, “And make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed.” We have thus the three parts of the body brought before us—the hands, the knees and the feet. The head is not spoken of. Christ is our head. He is the life of the body. His finished work has given life to the soul and the head of the spiritual body is above. Our life is “hid with Christ in God” Nothing can touch that, for it is in heaven. The members, however-the hands, the knees and the feet, are on earth and it is to these the passage now calls our attention, “make straight paths” Why? Because you have “lame” members. You have a race to run. Take out of the paths all rough stones, sharp thorns. The Lord is a tender, pitiful, gracious Father. He does not wish us to stumble. He wants to heal our lameness. He longs to see us “strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.” He looks mercifully upon our infirmities, and for the glory of His name would turn from us all those evils that we most righteously have deserved. There are few “paths” of God’s people in which there are not many things over which we may stumble; and there are none of them who have not “lame” members. There is in every Christian’s “path” some stone against which the “lame” member within him is constantly stumbling. In some it is one thing, in some it is another.
Perhaps, reader, your faith is weak. There is some point in your Christian faith which pierces you or proves a stumbling block. Perhaps you cannot understand the immortality of the soul. The body dies and we see nothing of the spirit. All seems as if we died like the brute creation. Perhaps it is something connected with the inspiration of the word of God. What have we on which to rest our faith? A few old parchment leaves, rudely inscribed by illiterate Galilean fishermen, rescued from the oblivion of corrupt and superstitious ages, which have been put together and called the word of God. Perhaps this is your stone of stumbling. Or it may be some doubt about the pardon of your sins (though this ought not to be, for the word of God is so explicit) or about your faith, assurance or prayers.
Or it may be something altogether different from this—something you cannot or dare not tell to others. Every time your secret heart comes in contact with it, it worries you, distracts you, casts you down; and you feel that, go where you will or do what you will, it seems always in your way. Your lame member seems always to be running against it and you are often nearly thrown down by this terrible stumbling-stone! What is to be done? Only one thing, dear reader. Mark it well! “lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees;” Be much in prayer. “lay aside every weight” on Jesus. Tell Him all about your lame member. Tell Him what is the thorn in your path, the stone of stumbling always in your way. Only thus will you be able to “make straight paths for your feet.” Only thus can the “lame” member be healed. Oh yes, dear, tried and tempted fellow-pilgrim, this is the way! Have closer dealings with God. Depend upon it no weight will weigh heavily very long there. Depend upon it the path will be freer from stumbling-blocks and lacerations then. Do not try and grapple with these difficulties any longer. You have done that too long already. Take them to Jesus and live nearer to Him. This is the remedy-the Divine panacea for your many maladies-only this. God grant that you may be oftener there than you have been! God grant that the Lord may find you there in that solemn hour when He shall come “taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ:” It is only for a little while and then every mystery shall be solved, every cloud shall vanish forever. Oh, for faith to trust Him for this little while, for strength to live near to Him, for power to walk with Him! God give you strength dear friend, for this “one hour” of watching, and yours shall be the everlasting song!
Oh for the peace which floweth as a river,
Making life’s desert places bloom and smile!
Oh for the faith to grasp heaven’s bright “forever,”
Amid the shadows of earth’s “little while!”
“A little while,” for patient vigil-keeping,
To face the stern, to wrestle with the strong:
“A little while,” to sow the seed with weeping,
Then bind the sheaves, and sing the harvest song.
“A little while,” to wear the robe of sadness,
To toil, with weary step, through miry ways;
Then to pour forth the fragrant oil of gladness,
And clasp the girdle round the robe of praise.
“A little while,” midst shadow and illusion,
To strive, by faith, love’s mysteries to spell;
Then read each dark enigma’s bright solution;
Then hail sight’s verdict, “He doth all things well.”
“A little while,” the earthen pitcher taking
To wayside brooks, from far-off fountains fed,
Then the cool lip its thirst forever slaking
Beside the fullness of the Fountain-head.
“A little while,” to keep the oil from failing;
“A little while,” faith’s flickering lamp to trim;
And then, the Bridegroom’s coming footsteps hailing,
To haste to meet Him with the bridal hymn.
And He, who is Himself the Gift and Giver,
The future glory and the present smile,
With the bright promise of the glad “forever,”
Will light the shadows of the “little while.”
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