A PASSION SERMON
“…….And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the man!” John 19:5
We stand before Gabbatha. The judgment seat is still empty. The scene, as we are aware, has been transferred for a time into the inner courtyard. We know the things which have occurred there. The evangelists describe them with a trembling hand. They mention the scourging only briefly. We think we see them covering their faces with their hands at this terrific scene; but they cannot conceal from us the tears which silently steal down their cheeks.
Impatience begins to seize upon the multitude outside, when suddenly the gate of the praetorium again opens. Pilate approaches, visibly affected, followed by One who is surrounded by a troop of jeering barbarians. Oh, what an appearance does He present! You shudder and cover, your faces. Do so and permit me, meanwhile, to relate a brief narrative to you.
Heaven’s pearly gates were once thrown open and a Holy One descended into the world — such a One as the sons of men had never seen since the Fall. He was glorious beyond compare, and came to verify the dream of Jacob’s ladder which connected earth with Heaven. Love was His banner, compassion the beating of His heart. He sojourned three years among mortals, shedding light on those who were stumbling in darkness, filling the cottages of the wretched with temporal and spiritual blessings, inviting the weary and heavy-laden to come to Him, in order to give them rest, and irradiating the darkness of the vale of death with promises upon promises, as with so many golden lights from Heaven.
“I am not come,” said He, “to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give my life a ransom for many.” He testified that He came to redeem His people from their sins; that He would not leave them comfortless but would bring them to the Father, and elevate them to be fellow-heirs with Him in His glory. And how He did fulfill His promises, whenever any ventured to take heart and confide in Him!
Oh, what blessings must such a Guest have brought with Him to a world lying under the curse! Even the angels around the throne might have envied the pilgrims in this vale of death by reason of this visit. And as regards the children of men — “Doubtless,” you say, “they received Him with exultation, melted into tears of rapture, conducted Him in triumph, and knew not what they should do to manifest their gratitude to their heavenly Friend and Deliverer.”
My friends, lift up your eyes and look toward Gabbatha. You exclaim, “Who is yonder Sufferer?” Whom do you take Him to be? Look Him narrowly in the face, and say if wickedness could have vented itself worse than it has done on this Person? They have made of Him a carnival king; and as if He were unworthy of being dealt with seriously, they have impressed upon Him the stamp of derision. Look at the mock robe about His shoulders, the theatrical scepter in His hands, and on His head, which is covered with wounds and blood, the dreadful crown of thorns.
But who is this Man thus horribly disfigured? I think you will no longer seriously inquire. The lamblike patience, and the superhuman resignation with which He stands before you, point Him out clearly. No less does the majesty betray Him, which, in spite of all the abasement He experiences, still shows itself in His whole deportment, as well as the divinely forgiving love which even now beams from His eye. Who would be found acting thus in a similar situation? Yes, it is the Holy One from on high who stands before you, the picture of agony. “Behold the man!” exclaims the heathen judge, deeply affected and faintly impressed with an idea of some superior Being.
But what is the echo which resounds from the breast of the powerful monster in reply to the governor’s exclamation? “Crucify him! Crucify him! rends the air, as if proceeding from a single tongue.
Are these impious men aware of what they are doing? Certainly not, in all its extent. In the Person of Christ, they would gladly dash to pieces the mirror which mutely renders them conscious of their own deformity. In the Nazarene they would gladly extinguish the Light of the world, which they hate because they feel more at ease in the darkness of deception than in the broad daylight of unvarnished truth. They neither desire an external conscience, nor the exhibition of a model of virtue, nor an awakener from their deadly sleep, nor, generally speaking, any moral authority over them.
Thus they are judged. In the manifestation of Him who was “fairer than the children of men,” our fallen nature has made it evident that its corruption is radical, its disease desperate, and its inmost tendency nothing else than enmity against the Most High God. Our race, in the murder of the Lord from Heaven, has pronounced sentence upon itself, and filled up the measure of its guilt. The mute Sufferer in the purple robe and crown of thorns sits in judgment upon it, and silently testifies that without mediation and an atonement, the seed of Adam in its whole extent, is exposed to the curse.
That which manifests itself at Gabbatha is only the mature fruit of a seed which grows openly or secretly in us all. As long as we have not experienced the second birth by the Word and the Spirit, we do not act with regard to Jesus, in a manner essentially different from the wretched men at Gabbatha. Like them, we are offended at the holiness of Jesus. Like them, we spit upon Him in spirit with our scorn, when He gives us to understand that we ought to bow the knee of homage to Him as our ruler. Tell me, does not Christ still wear in a hundred different forms, the purple robe and crown of thorns in the world? Is He not exposed to public ridicule, and treated as a liar and an enthusiast, because He bears witness to His superhuman dignity? Is not His name, even to this day, outlawed by thousands like scarcely any other? Does not an ironical smile dart across the lips of many, when it is mentioned with reverence and fervor?
Truly, the sins which were commited on the bleeding form of Jesus are so little to be regarded as the sins and impious acts of a few, that the accumulated guilt of the whole human race is thereby made apparent. The cruel scene at Gabbatha is not yet at an end. It is daily renewed, although in a somewhat less striking manner. The words, “Behold the Man!” point not only to what is past; they have also a condemning reference to the present. Alas, the world became a Gabbatha! The thorn-crowned martyred form exhibited there mutely condemns us all without distinction.
But the presence of the divine Sufferer acts not merely judicially and condemnatory. It also exercises an influence commanding homage and reverence. However deeply abased the Saviour may appear, He is still a King. Even in His blood-stained attire, He accomplishes a truly regal work, and in so doing, ascends a throne on which no eye had previously seen Him. It is not the throne of government over all created things: for to this the Father had long before elevated Him.
May He unveil His suffering form before us, when the gloomy path presents itself to our view, which we must tread alone! When the consolation of human affection no longer reaches the heart, may He then accompany us in our solitary path, in His purple robe and crown of thorns, and all that is dark around us will be changed into heavenly light and glory! For it is in this form above every other, that the great truth is expressed, that the sentence of death, and the curse are removed from our heads to His, in order that free access to the throne of grace may be granted us, when clothed in the robe of His righteousness.
Let, then, the sound of “Ecce Homo!” ever vibrate in our hearts, and nothing in the world ever cause His suffering form to fade from our mental view. The wisdom of the just consists, as Paul expresses it, in knowing nothing among men save Christ and Him crucified. Dying daily to ourselves and the world in felowship with the dying Redeemer, in order daily to rise with Him to the new life in God is our vocation. Let us be satisfied, remembering that “we have here no abiding city.”
How long may it be before we hear the sound of another “Ecce Homo!” But if we then lift up our eyes, a different form will present itself to our view than that which we saw on Gabbatha. The King of glory will then have exchanged the robe of mockery for the starry mantle of divine Majesty, the wreath of thorns for a crown of glory, and the reed for the scepter of universal dominion. He inclines the latter to us graciously as the symbol of His especial favor, saying: “Come, and inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” And while from the interior of the heavenly city of God the never-ending hallelujahs of the blessed above greet our ears, our full hearts respond to the ecstatic acclamation: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing!”
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Bekijk de hele uitgave van maandag 1 maart 1965
The Banner of Truth | 16 Pagina's
Bekijk de hele uitgave van maandag 1 maart 1965
The Banner of Truth | 16 Pagina's