3404. A Gross Indignity

A Sermon Published On Thursday, April 30, 1914.

And they spit on him. {Mt 27:30}

For other sermons on this text:

   {See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 3138, “Mocking the King” 3139}

   {See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 3404, “Gross Indignity, A” 3406}

   Exposition on Mt 27:15-54 Joh 18:28-38 {See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 2824, “Mocked by the Soldiers” 2825 @@ "Exposition"}

   Exposition on Mt 27:22-50 {See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 2333, “Whole Band Against Christ, The” 2334 @@ "Exposition"}

   Exposition on Mt 27:27-54 {See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 2803, “Saddest Cry from the Cross, The” 2804 @@ "Exposition"}

   Exposition on Mt 27:27-54 {See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 2887, “Dire Disease Strangely Cured, A” 2888 @@ "Exposition"}

1. The night before he had “sweat, as it were, great drops of blood falling to the ground,” that fair visage, which was “fairer than that of any of the sons of men,” had been marred by agony and grief without a parallel. During that night he had no rest; he was dragged away from one tribunal to another. First, he was brought before a council of priests; immediately he stood before Pilate, and now, after the mockery of a trial, he is turned over to the soldiers, so that they may mock him before his execution. It is he — the world’s Redeemer, the long-expected Messiah; he is led out as a condemned criminal — condemned as a traitor, and given up for blasphemy, so that he may die the death! Do you see him? They bring out an old stool; they call that a throne; the Monarch who sways the sceptre of the universe, is placed on it. They thrust into his hand a reed to mock that golden sceptre, the touch of which has so often given mercy to rebels: and now they play the worshipper before him. But what is their worship? It consists of ribaldry and jeer. Having made sport of his kingship, they must ridicule his character as a prophet. They blindfold him, and strike him in the face, some on one cheek, and some on the other, buffeting him with the palms of their hands; they pull out his hair; and then they say, making fools of themselves, rather than of him whom they thought to make a fool of, “Prophesy, who is he who struck you?” “Who is this who just now pulled out your hair?” “Who is it who struck you on the cheek?” Not content with this, they remove the blindfold, and he sees. What a sight is before him! Faces in every conceivable shape mocking him — thrusting out the tongue, or screwing it into the cheek, calling him all the names that their low-lived dictionary could summon up; not content with heaping common scorn on him, but counting him to be “the very offscouring of all things.” Names with which they would not degrade a dog, they use to defile him. Then, to consummate everything, they spit into his face. Those eyes, which make heaven glad, and cause the angels to rejoice, are covered with the spittle of these knavish soldiers. Down his cheek it trickles. That awful brow, the nod or shake of which reveals the everlasting decrees of God, is stained with spittle from the lips of wretches whom his own hands had made, whom he could have dashed into eternal destruction had he wished!

2. When I muse on this, my soul is filled with sorrow. The very idea that Jesus Christ should ever have been spit on by one in human form appals me. Do you remember what kind of face it was that these soldiers spit into? Shall I read a description of it for you? One who loved him, and knew him well, speaks of him like this: — “My beloved is white … his countenance is lovely.” {So 5:10-16} It was into this dear face, coarse, brutal soldiers must void their vile spittle! Oh Church of Christ! was ever grief like yours, that your husband should be so defiled, and that, too, for your sake? Was ever love like his that he should suffer these indignities for you? The angels crowd around his throne to catch a glimpse of that fair countenance. When he was born, they came to Bethlehem’s manger, so that they might gaze on that face, while he was still an infant; and all through his wandering path of sorrow he was “seen by angels.” They never turned away their eyes from him, for never had they seen a visage so enchanting. What must they have thought when gathering around their Lord? Surely they would have gladly stretched their wings to have shielded that dear face! What anger must have filled their holy souls, what grief, if grief can be known by beings like themselves, when they saw these wretches, these inhuman creatures, spitting on Perfection! Oh! how they must have grieved when they saw the nasty spittle around that mouth which is “most sweet,” trickling down from those eyes which are “like the eyes of doves by rivers of waters,” staining the cheeks which are “as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers,” and falling on those lips which are “like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling myrrh.” This is a subject on which I must meditate, even though I cannot preach. I cannot describe it to you unless your soul can now draw near to your buffeted Master, unless the Holy Spirit shall give you a near and dear, an intimate, quiet, soul-satisfying view and vision of him. I cannot give it to you. As well might I attempt to hold a candle to show you the sun as to hope, by anything that I can say, to touch your passions or move your hearts towards my dear Lord and Master, if the vision of him does not move you to grieve for sin, and to love him because he suffered like this for you. All I propose tonight is to offer just a few thoughts on this startling fact in the history of our redemption.

3. “They spit on him.” Let us learn here the deep depravity of the human race. When I see Adam in the midst of comfort reaching his hand out to take that one fruit which his Master had reserved for himself, I see, indeed, sin and arrogance, daring assumption and heinous crime. But I do not see so much of levity and lawlessness there as I do in this, that creatures should spit on the Creator. As I look through the annals of human guilt, I see strange stories of man in reckless, defiant rebellion against his divine Sovereign. From that first evil hour until now, what strange monsters of guilt has the earth seen! We have heard of rapine and murder, crimes for which new names have been coined to designate the new atrocities which have been committed; homicide, fratricide, patricide, and matricide, in which every sanctity of kin has been outraged. We have read of fornication, and of adultery, and of lusts worse than bestial. Good God! what is man not capable of? Only take the bit from his mouth, and the bridle from his jaws, to what depth of iniquity will he not descend? There is not a filthy dream that Satan ever had in the dark watches of his midnight reverie which man will not embody in act, and carry out in all its grim and dread reality. Strange are those tales that have come from a far-off land, where the heathen worship in their darkness. They do not merely bow down to blocks of wood and stone, but degrade themselves with vices into which we never could have imagined humanity could plunge. Oh God! my heart is heavy as a stone, and struck with very grief, when I think of what an evil thing man is. Why did you not sweep him from the world? How can you permit a viper so obnoxious to nestle in the bosom of your providence?

4. Oh! why do you permit such a den of thieves to wander abroad, such a cage of unclean birds to swing in space, and to be carried by your power around the sun? Why do you not blast it, strike its mountains with desolation, and fill its valleys with ashes of fire? Why do you not sweep the race completely away and let their very name become a hissing and a scorn? But, my brethren, bad as man is, I think he never was so bad — or rather, his badness never came out to the full so much — as when, gathering all his spite, his pride, his lust, his desperate defiance, his abominable wickedness into one mouthful he spat into the face of the Son of God himself. Oh! this is an act that transcends every other. There are other deeds connected with the crucifixion quite as malignant, but could there be any so vile? Surely we may say of the men who drove the nails into the Saviour’s hands that they only did what they were ordered to do. They were soldiers, and because they were commanded by their military superiors, therefore, they did it. But this was a gratuitous act; this was done without command, without any pressure. It was the base wickedness of their own hearts. Sin saw Perfection in its power, and it needed to spit on Perfection’s cheeks. The creature, the erring creature, saw its Creator, in the mightiness of his condescension, putting himself into his creature’s power, and the creature spit on him to show how much he hated, how much he loathed, despised, abhorred, detested the very thought of Godhead, even when it was Godhead veiled in human flesh, and come into the world to redeem.

5. And now, while you blush with me for human nature, so foaming out its own reeking depravity, please remember that such is your nature, and such is mine. Let us not talk about things in the general, but bring them home in particular. Just such a base wretch am I, and such a base wretch are you, my dear hearer, by nature, as were those who insulted our Lord like this. I need not go far for proofs; for if we have not spit into the Saviour’s face literally — that dear sorrow-scarred visage — we have, as opportunity offered, been rude and wicked as they. Do you not remember the poor saint of God who talked to us of the things of the kingdom, and we laughed him in the face? Do we not remember that servant of ours, who anxiously longed to serve her God, but we threw every obstacle in her way, and never missed an opportunity of venting some jest or sneer on her? And oh, most precious book of God, the legacy of my Redeemer, how often in the days of my unregeneracy have I spit on you, and thrust you into a corner, so that the novel of the day might have my attention! I have told you to lie still, that I might read the newspaper, or that something more trivial, and it may be less innocent, might occupy my mind. Oh, you ministers of Christ! how have our hearts despised you! And you, you lovely ones, the lowly in heart, who follow Christ in the midst of an evil generation, how often have we said harsh things about you, mocked your piety, despised your humility, laughed at your prayers, and made jokes at those very expressions which showed the sincerity of your hearts! In all this what have we done? Have we not really spit into the face of Christ? Come, let us weep together; let us sorrow as those who mourn over a firstborn son, whose corpse lies unburied before them. I have spit into my Saviour’s face; but, mercy of mercies, he who stands before you tonight self-convicted, can also add, “But he has not spit into mine; indeed, he has kissed me with the kisses of his love,” and he has said, “Go your way; your sins, which are many, are all forgiven; I have blotted out your iniquities like a cloud, and like a thick cloud your transgressions.” Melt, then, you eyes, and stream down these cheeks, you briny tears, when I remember that he whom I once despised has not despised me; that he whom I abhorred has not abhorred me; and that though we hid, as it were, our faces from him, he has not hidden his face from us; but here we are, forgiven sinners, though once we assailed him with indignity as gross as those who spat into his face.

6. Having propounded that melancholy fact, I pass on. May God the Holy Spirit impress each of these truths on our minds, while I merely glance at them.

7. Why was our Master’s face full of spitting? Sweet thought! Our faces were full of spots, and if the Master would save us, his face must be full of spots, too; he had none of his own, therefore, those spots shall be given him from the lips of scoffers. You know it was appropriate for him who saved us, that in everything he should be made like us. We were wounded. What then? “He was wounded for our transgressions.” We were sick, and he himself “bore our sicknesses, and carried our sorrows.” Since we were worms, he must say, “I am a worm, and no man.” And we being sinful, he needed to bear our sin, and be numbered with the transgressors, and led away to die. In all things he must become a true substitute for those whom he came into the world to redeem.

8. And now, my soul, come here and look at this incredible spectacle again. The face of your Lord Jesus Christ is filled with spitting! Was ever a sight so loathsome and so disgusting as this? But notice that this is your case. Down your cheeks something worse than spittle ran; from your eyes there flowed something worse than came from the lips of soldiers, and from your mouth there has gushed out a stream which is worse than what came on the Saviour’s face. Come, look into this mirror tonight, my dear brothers and sisters in Christ, for the face of Christ is the mirror of your souls. What he endured reflects what we were by nature. Oh! what spots there were in us! What hellish spots that streams of water could not wash away! What evils of every kind! — pride, and anger, and lust, and defiance of God! Spots, did I say? Why, sure the sun has shone on our faces, and we have become black all over as the tents of Kedar. It is no more with us now a matter of spots; by nature we are as the Ethiopian, black, thoroughly black; but, glory be to his name, these spots have taken away your spots; this spittle has made us clean; we are black no longer; by faith we may feel tonight that that spittle on the Saviour’s face has washed away the sin from ours. His shame has taken away our sin; that spitting has taken away our guilt. And now what does your Lord say about us? You know what kind of face he has. Just hear him while he describes ours. You would scarcely think that he could mean it; but he certainly does, for he has seen us often, and, therefore, he should know. He says of us, oh prince’s daughter — “Your head on you is like Carmel, and the hair of your head like purple: the king is held captive by your the tresses.” {So 7:5,6} And again he says, “You are all fair, my love; there is no spot in you.” When I first had that text laid home to my soul, well do I remember how it ravished my heart; I could not understand that my Lord and Master should actually look me in the face, and say, “Lo, you are fair; there is no spot in you.” Oh! it is a grand and noble truth. Faith grasps it; love dotes on it; our hearts treasure it. There is no spot left in a believer now.

   Covered is my unrighteousness,

   From condemnation I am free.

9. One bath in the precious blood takes away all spots, makes us whiter than the driven snow, and we stand before God fairest among the fair, accepted in the Beloved. Learn, then, oh Church of Christ, this great truth, that the spittle and the shame of the Saviour’s face have delivered you from the odious corruption that disfigured you, and you may, therefore, rejoice in his meekness who bore your reproach.

10. What Christ suffered by way of shame, we must remember, is a picture of what we must have suffered for ever, if he had not become our substitute and mediator. Ah! my soul, when you see your Lord mocked, remember that shame and everlasting contempt must otherwise have been your portion for ever and ever. One of the ingredients of hell will be shame: to be laughed at for our folly, to be called madmen for our sin, to feel that angels despise us, that God scorns us, that the righteous themselves abhor us; this will be one of the flames of the pit that shall burn the spirits of men. To have no honour anywhere, not even among their base companions, is a bitter prospect, but there is no rank in hell, no being honoured in the pit that yawns for the souls of men. “Shame shall be the promotion of fools, and everlasting contempt shall be their perpetual inheritance.” And think, my soul! this would have been your portion, but your Master bore it for you; and now you shall never be ashamed, because your Master was ashamed for you; you shall not be confounded, neither shall you be put to shame, for he has taken away your reproach, and borne it on his own visage; and as for your rebuke, it has entered into his own heart, and he has taken it away for ever — it shall never be brought to your memory.

11. Think, dear friends, of the honour which awaits the Christian eventually: — 

   It doth not yet appear

      How great we must be made;

   But when we see our Saviour here,

      We shall be like our Head.

12. We shall judge the angels. The fallen spirits shall be dragged up from their infernal dens, and we shall sit as assessors with the Son of God, to say “Amen” to that solemn sentence which shall perpetuate their fiery doom. We shall reign on this earth a thousand years with him, and then, clothed in white robes, our joyful spirits in our risen bodies shall enter into heaven’s gates triumphant. There shall we be crowned, and treated as princes of the blood; there shall angels be our waiting servants, and principalities and powers shall assist us in our service of song. Before the mighty throne of blazing light, where God himself reigns, we shall stand, and sing, and bow, and worship; and we, too, shall have our thrones, and our kingdoms, and our crowns, and we shall reign for ever and ever and ever. Then we shall look back to that face that was covered with spittle, and we shall say, “We owe all this to that dear disfigured face; all this glory is the result of his shame, because he did not hide his face from shame and spitting”; therefore, we have “washed our robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb”; therefore, we stand in the full blaze of heaven’s own glory, and, therefore, we serve Jehovah day and night in his temple. Let this sweet thought, then, dwell on your mind. Christ’s shame has taken away your shame; his endurance of the spitting has secured your everlasting honour.

13. To draw another practical truth from this short but penetrating sentence, “They spit on him.” Blessed Master! “if I am like you, they well spit on me.” The less I am like you, the more the world will love me; but if, perchance, these wayfarers should see something in me that shows I have been with you, they will give me the remnants of that spittle which they did not spit into your face. Oh! my Lord and Master! one prayer I offer, “Give me grace to bear that spittle, thankfully to receive it, and to rejoice because I am counted worthy not only to believe in you, but to suffer for your sake.” There are many of you, I know, who are ridiculed and hear the laughter of your old companions, when you forsake them to follow Christ. In the associations you have formed, and in your family connections, you often encounter a treatment which is not pleasant to flesh and blood. Does not the evil one sometimes whisper to you, “Do not follow with Christ, for this is a sect spoken against everywhere?” “Leave him, and be honoured; do not go with him, when he goes through Vanity Fair. Oh! do not suffer with him this trial of cruel mocking.” Ah! that is the song of Satan. Plug your ears, and do not listen for a moment, but listen to this true note from heaven, “Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, when they shall say all kinds of evil against you falsely for my name’s sake, for so they persecuted the prophets that were before you.” Take joyfully not only the spoiling of your goods, but the spoiling of your character. Sing, as our sweet song writer puts it: — 

   Jesus, I my cross have taken,

      All to leave, and follow thee;

   Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,

      Thou my all from hence shall be.

14. If the world thrusts you out, run to him; or if it does not thrust you out, go out of your own accord. Go outside the camp, bearing the reproach. When at any time your heart sinks within you, I would have you consider him who “endured such hostility from sinners against himself, lest you be weary and faint in your mind.” If at any time you would hide your face from the shame and spitting, think that you see him enduring it, and then you will thrust out your face and say, “Let me be a sharer with my Master; treat me like my Lord. If you spit on him, spit on me; and rather than spit in his face, spit in mine. I will be glad enough if I can only shelter him. It is my pride to suffer, my boast to be despised for his sake.”

   I nail my glory to his cross,

   And pour contempt on all my shame.

15. Oh! this is a glory which an archangel can never know — the glory of being trampled on by the world for Jesus’ sake; the honour of fellowship in suffering with Christ; and it shall be followed by an even greater glory, when we shall reign with him above, because we have suffered with him below.

16. To conclude, let me draw one more lesson from the fact that “They spit on him.” Christian brothers and sisters, you who love your Master, praise him and extol him. How the early Church used to talk about its martyrs! After those good men, who were stretched on the rack, had their flesh torn from their bones with red-hot pincers, were exposed naked to the gaze of the multitude, and had their limbs cut away joint by joint, and then were burned in the fire, but stood calm, and dared without a sigh to declare that, though they were cut into a thousand pieces, they would never forsake their Lord and Master, how did the Church ring with their praises — every Christian pulpit talked about them, every believer had an anecdote concerning them. And shall not our conversation ring with the honour of this Martyr, this glorious Witness, this Redeemer, who suffered shame, and spitting, and death on the cross for us? Honour him! Honour him! Honour him! you blood-bought ones. Do not be content to sing: — 

   Bring forth the royal diadem,

   And crown him Lord of all;

but bring it out; do not make it a matter of song, but of deed. Bring it out, and put it on his head. You daughters of Jerusalem! go out to meet King Solomon, and crown him, crown him with heart and hand. Take the palm branches of your praises, and go out to meet him; spread your garments in the way, and cry, “Hosanna! Hosanna! blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” leading captives captive, and scattering gifts for men. Talk about him in your houses, laud him in your conversation, praise him in your songs, sound for a while your melodies on earth, until you shall lay aside this clay, and enter into heaven, there to give him the fiery songs of flaming tongues; then emulate the seraphs, and surround his throne with everlasting hallelujahs, crying, “To him who loved us, and who washed us from our sins in his blood, to him be glory for ever and ever.” I think I see him now. He stands before me. I see that very face that once endured the spitting. Oh! you angels! bring out the crown, bring out the crown, and let it be put on his head today! I see the piercings, where thorns penetrated his temple. Bring out the diadem, I say, and put it on his head! It is done. A shout rises up to heaven, louder than the voice of many waters. And what now? Bring out another, and another, and another crown, and yet another, and immediately another yet. And now I see him. There he stands; and “on his head are many crowns.” It is not enough. You redeemed saints, bring out more. You blood-bought ones, as you stream into heaven’s gates, each one of you offer him a new diadem; and you, my soul, though “less than the least of all saints,” and the very chief of sinners, put your crown on his head! By faith, I do it now. “To him who loved me, and who washed me from my sins in his blood, to him be glory, for ever and ever.” From pole to pole let the echoes sound; yes; let the whole earth, and all who dwell in it, say “Amen!”

Expositions By C. H. Spurgeon {Joh 8:29-59 Mr 14:1-9 Joh 12:1-7}

Christ spoke this to his adversaries.

29. “And he who sent me is with me: the Father has not left me alone: for I always do those things that please him.”

Brethren, what Christ could say, I trust many of his servants can also say in the same way. “He who sent me is with me.” What power, what pleasure, must the presence of God give to his servants! “The Father has not left me alone.” Oh! how blessed to feel that behind us is the sound of our Master’s feet, and that in us is the temple of his presence! We cannot, however, say, as Christ did, “I always do those things that please him,” for, alas! we have the memory of sin this morning, and have to confess it in his sight. But let us also remember that he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins.

30, 31. As he spoke these words, many believed in him. Then Jesus said to those Jews who believed in him, “If you continue in my word, then you are my disciples indeed;

It is not a mere profession that makes a man a saint; there must be a continuance of well-doing. We bind lads apprentice for a little time, but no man belongs to Christ unless he belongs to him for ever. There must be an entire giving up of one’s self, in life and to death, to the Lord’s cause.

32-34. And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” They answered him, “We are Abraham’s seed, and never were in bondage to any man: how do you say, ‘You shall be made free?’” Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, ‘Whoever commits sin is the servant of sin.’

There is this in the original, “Whoever makes sin.” It is not exactly, “Whoever commits it,” because if so, everyone would be the servants of sin, and God would have no sons at all. But it says in the original “Whoever makes sin,” that is, whoever makes it his choice, and makes it the delight of his soul, whoever does this is the servant of sin, and is no son of God.

35. And the servant does not remain in the house for ever: but the Son remains for ever.

He may be in the house, and have some privileges for a time, but these soon go away.

36. If the Son therefore shall make you free, you shall be free indeed.

And give you the privileges of sons.

37, 38. I know that you are Abraham’s seed; but you seek to kill me, because my word has no place in you. I speak what I have seen with my Father: and you do what you have seen with your father.”

Men always act according to their natures. We shall find the polluted fountain sending out filthy streams. We do not expect to hear sweet singing from a serpent, nor, on the other hand, do we expect hissing from the bird, but every creature is after its own kind. Christ, coming from the Father, reveals God: ungodly men, coming from the devil, reveal the devil.

39-42. They answered and said to him, “Abraham is our father.” Jesus says to them, “If you were Abraham’s children, you would do the works of Abraham. But now you seek to kill me, a man who has told you the truth, which I have heard from God: Abraham did not do this. You do the deeds of your father.” Then they said to him, “We are not born of fornication; we have one Father, even God.” Jesus said to them, “If God were your Father, you would love me: for I proceeded and came from God; neither did I come by myself, but he sent me.

You would see in me a brother; you would perceive in me the attributes of God, and, being made like God as his sons, would love the Godhead in me.

43, 44. Why do you not understand my speech? Even because you cannot hear my word. You are from your father the devil, and you will do the lusts of your father.

Christ does not speak very gentle words at all times. A deeply-rooted disease needs a sharp medicine, and he gives it. He uses the knife sometimes, and if there is a deadly ulcer that must be cut away, he knows how to do it with all the sternness of which his loving heart is capable.

44. He was a murderer from the beginning, and did not remain in the truth, because there was no truth in him.

The first murder was committed by his suggestion. Cain was guilty of it, but Satan instigated it. He has always been a man-killer, and so Christ says that, inasmuch as they sought to kill him, they were worthy sons of their parent. “There is no truth in him.”

44. When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources:

It is his own idiom. You may always know him by it.

44. For he is a liar, and the father of it.

The father of all liars, and of all lies.

45-46. And because I tell you the truth, you do not believe me. Which of you convinces me of sin? And if I say the truth, why do you not believe me?

Oh! matchless argument! Now they were silent indeed. His whole life was before them; he had not lived in secret and yet he could appeal to his whole life, from the first day even to this time, and say, “Which of you convinces me of sin?” It is this that weakens our testimony for God that we are so imperfect and full of sin. Let us seek to imitate the Master, for the more clean we are from these imperfections, the more we shall be able to shut the mouths of our adversaries.

47, 48. He who is of God hears God’s words: you therefore do not hear them, because you are not of God.” Then the Jews answered and said to him, “Did we not well say that you are a Samaritan, and have a demon?”

Always abuse your adversary if you cannot answer him; this is always the devil’s tactic. When he cannot overthrow religion, then he seeks to append opprobrious titles to those who profess it. It is an old and stale trick, and has lost much of its force. Our Saviour did not answer the accusation of his being a Samaritan, but inasmuch as what they said about his having a demon would touch his doctrine, he answered that.

49-51 Jesus answered, “I do not have a demon; but I honour my Father, and you dishonour me. And I do not seek my own glory: there is one who seeks and judges. Truly, truly, I say to you, if a man keeps my saying, he shall never see death.”

The sting of it shall be taken away; he may fall asleep; he will do so, but he shall not see death.

52-56. Then the Jews said to him, “Now we know that you have a demon. Abraham is dead, and the prophets: and you say, ‘If a man keeps my saying, he shall never taste death.’ Are you greater than our father Abraham, who is dead? and the prophets are dead: whom do you make yourself out to be?” Jesus answered, “If I honour myself, my honour is nothing: it is my Father who honours me; of whom you say, that he is your God: yet you do not know him; but I know him: and if I should say, I do not know him, I shall be a liar like you: but I know him, and keep his saying. Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day; and he saw it, and was glad.”

There is a great force in the original language here, “He was glad.” There was an excessive joy which holy men had in looking forward to the coming of Christ. I do not think that we give ourselves enough room for joy in our religion. There are some people who think it is the right thing to restrain their emotions. They have no outbursts of joy, and seldom a shout of sacred song. But oh! my brethren, if there is anything that deserves the flashing eye, and the leaping foot, and the bounding heart, it is the great truth that Jesus Christ has come into the world to save sinners, even the chief. Let us be glad as often as we make mention of his name.

57. Then the Jews said to him, “You are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraham?”

Why, he was hardly thirty, but sorrow had made him appear old.

58. Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was I am.”

Here he claims his Deity to the fullest extent, and those who can read the New Testament, and profess to believe it, and yet not see Christ as a claimant of Deity, must be wilfully blind.

59. Then, they took up stones to throw at him: but Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple, going through the midst of them, and so passed by.

This is always the sinner’s argument against the right: first, harsh words, and then stones.

Mark 14

1-3. After two days was the feast of the passover, and of unleavened bread: and the chief priests and the scribes sought how they might take him by craft, and put him to death. But they said, “Not on the feast-day, lest there be an uproar of the people.” And being in Bethany in the house of Simon the leper,

A well-known person. There were plenty of Simons, and so they had to use another name to distinguish him. You remember Simon the Pharisee, in whose house Christ was anointed by a woman, who washed his feet with tears. This is another Simon. Not Simon the Pharisee, but Simon the Leper. A healed man, no doubt, or he could not have entertained guests. There can be no question by whom he was healed; for there was no one else that could heal leprosy, except our divine Lord. “And being at Bethany in the house of Simon the Leper.”

3. As he sat eating, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard very precious; and she broke the box, and poured it on his head.

It does not need any “it,” “poured on his head.” The liquid nard flowed over his locks, and, as it was with Aaron, it went, doubtless, down his beard to the edges of the skirts of his garments.

4. And there were some who had indignation within themselves, and said, “Why was this waste of the ointment made?

Matthew says that they were disciples. Shame on them. The ointment was put to its proper use. It was more wasted when it was in the box than when it was out of it, for it was doing nothing inside the alabaster box. But when it came out, it was serving its purpose. It was perfuming all around. “Why was this waste of the ointment made?” When lives are lost in Christ’s honour, or strength is spent in his service, there is no waste. It is what life and strength are made for — so that they may be spent for him.

5, 6. For it might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and have been given to the poor.” And they murmured against her. And Jesus said, “Leave her alone; why do you trouble her? she has performed a good work on me.

Or “in me.”

7. For you always have the poor with you,

If you help them one day, they are poor, and they need helping the next. Or if you help them and leave them, leaving them because they go home to God, there are other poor people sure to come, for they will never cease out of the land. “You always have the poor with you.”

7. And whenever you wish you may do them good: but you do not always have me.

“You can only do this for me during the few days that I shall be with you. Within a week I shall be crucified. Forty more days I shall be gone from you. You do not always have me.”

8, 9. She has done what she could: she is come beforehand to anoint my body for the burying. Truly I say to you, ‘Wherever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she has done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.’”

And it is so to this day. Christ’s gospel is preached tonight, and this woman’s love will be remembered.

John also speaks of this in his twelfth chapter.

1, 2. Then six days before the passover Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus was who had been dead, whom he raised from the dead. There they made him a supper;

It was in the house of Simon the Leper; a close acquaintance, perhaps a relative, of this beloved family, for we find that Martha served, but Lazarus was one of those who sat at the table with him. The two families had coalesced for this festival; and well they might, for in one case someone had been healed of leprosy, and in the other case Lazarus had been raised from the dead. It was a holy, happy feast.

2, 3. And Martha served: but Lazarus was one of those who sat at the table with him. Then Mary took a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus.

The other evangelist said “anointed his head.” And they are both right. She anointed his head and his feet.

3. And wiped his feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the fragrance of the ointment.

Everyone perceived and enjoyed it, and understood what costly ointment it must be which fills the air with so delicate a perfume.

4. Then one of his disciples says, Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, who should betray him.

I wonder whether he was a son of that Simon the Leper, and whether a spiritual leprosy clung to him. That, we know, was the case.

5, 6. “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?” He said this, not that he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bore what was put into it.

Observe that the sharpest critics of the works of good men are very often no better than they should be. This Judas is indignant with what Mary does, and claims that he cares for the poor, but all the while he is thief. Whenever a man is very quick condemning gracious men and women, you may be quite as quick in condemning him. He is usually a Judas.