Jesus was possessed of infinite compassion. The incidents that I shall relate to you, in support of this statement, are in quotations that are free, and yet, I think, justified by the spirit of the several occasions. After all, it is the spirit that giveth life; the letter killeth; so let us look at these things in the spirit of them. You see him one day with some of his disciples approaching the little village of Nain, "his raiment dusty and his sandals worn." As they draw near, the gate is opened and a funeral procession marches out. The mother of the young man whose body is being borne by his neighbors to the final resting place, walks feebly and weeping beside the bier, desolate in her loneliness. As Jesus saw that poor woman in the midst of her sorrow, his heart—I pray you think of it, for we are speaking of God when we speak of Jesus Christ, the Creator of heaven and earth—the heart of God, is moved with compassion towards this woman. He stops the bier, takes the dead by the hand, and says, "Young man, I say unto you, Arise." And he arose. Jesus Christ gave this woman back her son. It was an act of beautiful compassion, one of many, which illustrates how tender and sympathetic is the heart of our God!
Nor was his ministry confined exclusively to the poor, to the widows, to the lonely. He despised not rulers, nor the rich, because they were rich; but was willing, if only they could put themselves in a position to receive the manifestations of his compassion—he was willing to minister unto them. This is proved in the case of Jairus, one of the rulers of the Jews, and a man of great wealth. You will remember that he came running to the Master with his sorrow—his daughter was lying dangerously ill at home; and such was his faith that if the Master would but speak the word, she would be healed. While yet he spake, one of his servants came running, saying, "Thy daughter is dead: trouble not the Master." But Jesus heeded not the word of the servant. He had heard Jairus' cry of faith, and responsive to that faith-cry, he made his way to the home of the ruler, put out those who were unbelieving, and taking the maid by the hand, gave her back to the gladness of life, into the arms of the joyous father. The faith of that rich man was as great as the faith of any we meet with in all the ministry of the Lord. So, wealth is not necessarily a hindrance to faith. God is as close to the faithful rich as to the faithful poor, and as ready to grant them his mercy, according to their faith. I sometimes think we make a mistake when we would flout those who are rich and put them outside the pale of God's mercy and goodness because of what may be nothing but a prejudice—which in reality may be our envy—of the rich.
While on the way to the ruler's house, another incident happened that is very remarkable. A woman in the throng, a long time afflicted with a grievous ailment, said in her heart as she saw him pass, "If I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole." Accordingly she crowded her way forward, dropped upon her knee, clutched the garment, and received the divine power from him which cleansed her body and healed her completely. Jesus, observing that something had happened to him, turned to the apostles and said, "Who touched me?" They replied, "Master, the multitude throng thee and press thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me?" as if that was not to be expected in such a crowd, Ah! said Jesus, but "I perceive that virtue is gone out of me." What was it? Simply that through this poor woman's faith—who supposed herself so far removed from God that she dare—not come into his presence and ask for the blessing she desired, but undertook to obtain it by indirect means—through her faith and touching the garment of the Lord, the healing virtues passed from God to her in such a tangible manner that he felt their departure, just as some of you elders, when administering to one who was full of faith have felt your spiritual strength and life go out from you leaving you weak and almost helpless, but giving healthful life to the afflicted. I speak to men who have experience in these things, and I know that scores of you could bear witness to the truth of this phenomenon. If our lives can but touch the life of God, such is his nature that we shall partake of the virtues that go out from him.
What shall I say of lepers that crowded into Messiah's presence, and who, notwithstanding the loathsomeness of their disease, found sympathy and help from contact with him? What of the blind, the lame, the halt? Why, let us not speak of them; for though it is a great thing that their bodies should be healed, and they should go through the community singing the praises of him who had restored them, there are better things to speak of—the healing of men's souls, the purifying of their spirits.
God's Treatment of Sinners.
Let us ask, rather, how did Jesus Christ—God—deal with sinners? I take one incident that has always appealed very strongly to me, and illustrates the spirit in which Christ deals with sinners; for this God of ours is peculiarly the friend of sinners, not because of their sins, however, but in spite of them; and because of his compassion upon those so unfortunate as to be under the bondage of sin. The over-righteous Pharisees of Christ's time would not for the world come in contact with sinful men, lest they themselves should be polluted. They gathered the robes of their sanctity about them, and considered themselves in such close relation with God that they could afford to despise his poor, unfortunate, sinful children, instead of holding out the hand that would bring them from the kingdom of darkness into the brightness and glory of the kingdom of God. But not so with Jesus Christ. When he was accused by this class of men of mingling with publicans and sinners, his answer to them was, "They that are whole need not a physician; but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." As if he had said, you who are righteous and have no need of healing for sin, stand by yourselves; my mission is not to you, but to those who have need of God's help. Such was the spirit of his answer. The incident to which I refer as illustrative of his compassion for sinners, is this: The Jews were always on the alert to entrap the Messiah's feet and bring him into contradiction with the law of Moses. The law of Moses, as first given to Israel, was that if any should be found in adultery they should be stoned to death; but the Rabbis, by nice discriminations of words, practically had rendered that law a dead letter, by reason of which the adulterers in Israel escaped the punishment that God had decreed against them. Therefore, they thought if they could take a person who unquestionably had been guilty of this crime and bring him or her into the presence of Jesus, they would either bring him in conflict with the law of Moses, or with the tradition of the elders, and in either case would have sufficient cause to denounce him before the people. So they found a woman, caught in the act; they dragged her through the streets, and cast her at his feet. "Master," said they, "this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?" He replied, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." One by one they slunk away, until the woman was left alone with Jesus. When Jesus looked around, and saw none but the woman, he said to her, "Woman, where are thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?" "No man, Lord," she said. Then Jesus said: "Neither do I condemn thee: go and sin no more." That is how God deals with sinners. It is written that God cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance, and that is true, he cannot; but how about the sinner? Why, he may look upon the sinner with infinite compassion. While sin must always be hateful, yet will he help and love the sinner, if he will but go his way and sin no more. Such is our human weakness, and so nearly the level upon which we all move, that there is none of us but will plead mightily for mercy; and, thank God, we shall not plead in vain; for, while our Judge cannot look upon sin with any degree of allowance, his heart goes out in compassion and love to men and he will help them to overcome sin, to fight a good fight, to keep the faith, and at last enable them to win the crown in the kingdom of our God.
God's Spirit of Toleration.
Jesus, moreover, was tolerant. You will recall the circumstance of his having to go through Samaria, and you remember that the Samaritans hated the Jews, and Jesus was a Jew. Some of his disciples went into a village of Samaria, through which Jesus would have to pass, and sought to make arrangements for the Master to stay over night; but the Samaritans closed their doors against him. They had heard of him; he was a Jew; and in the narrowness of their minds they would not admit the hated Jew into their homes. This very much angered the disciple John, who loved Jesus dearly. He was one of the "sons of thunder," and possessed of a spirit that could love; and being strong in love, as is often the case—I was going to say as is always the case—he was likewise strong in hating. He was the type of man that does both heartily. Hence, he went to the Master and asked him if he might not call down fire from heaven upon those Samaritans for thus rejecting the Master. Jesus replied: "Ye know not what spirit ye are of. The Son of Man came to save, not to destroy." A broadness, a liberality truly glorious.
Jesus was properly broad minded—liberal. On one occasion some of the disciples found one casting out devils in the name of Jesus, and they forbade him, because he followed not the Master. When they came into the presence of Jesus, they reported this case and told what they had done. Jesus said, "Forbid him not: for there is no man which shall do a miracle in my name, that can lightly speak evil of me." Then he gave us the other half of that truth, "He that is not for me is against me," by saying, "For he that is not against us is for us." Thus he corrected the narrow-mindedness of his own apostles.