II. So much concerning the import of our Saviour’s exclamation. Such was the work which he finished upon the cross. We add a few remarks of a more general character.
The sufferings of Christ were vicarious. He died, not for his own sins, but for ours. He humbled himself, that we might be exalted. He became poor, that we might be made rich. He was wounded, that we might be healed. He drained the cup of wrath, that we might drink the waters of salvation. He died the shameful and excruciating death of the cross, that we might live and reign with him for ever.
“Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to have entered into his glory?” This “ought” is the ought of mercy and of covenant engagement. He must discharge the obligation which he had voluntarily assumed. He must finish the work which he had graciously begun. There was no other Saviour—no other being in the universe willing to undertake the work; or, if any willing to undertake, none able to accomplish it. The salvation of one human soul would have been too mighty an achievement for Gabriel—for all the angels in heaven. Had not “the Only Begotten of the Father” become our surety, we must have lain for ever under the wrath of God, amid “weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth.” None but the Lion of the tribe of Judah could break the seals of that mysterious book. None but “God manifest in the flesh” could deliver us from the second death.
The dying cry of Jesus indicates the dignity of his nature, and the power of life that was in him to the last. All men die of weakness—of inability to resist death—die because they can live no longer. But this was not the case with the Son of God. He speaks of laying down his life as his own voluntary act;—“No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.” He “poured out his soul unto death”—did not wait for it to be torn from him—did not hang languishing upon the cross, till life “ebbed out by slow degrees;” but poured it out freely, suddenly, and unexpectedly. As soon as the work was done for which he came into the world, he cried—“It is finished!” “bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.” Then the sun was darkened, the earth quaked, the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the centurion said—“Truly, this man was the Son of God!” He cried with a loud voice, to show that he was still unconquered by pain, mighty even upon the cross. He bowed his head that death might seize him. He was naturally far above the reach of death, his Divine nature being self-existent and eternal, and his human nature entitled to immortality by its immaculate holiness; yet “he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross”—“He bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.”
We may regard his last exclamation, also, as an expression of his joy, at having accomplished the great “travail of his soul,” in the work of our redemption. It was the work which the Father had given him, and which he had covenanted to do. It lay heavy upon his heart; and O, how was he straitened till it was accomplished! His “soul was exceeding sorrowful, even unto death;” “and his sweat as it were great drops of blood, falling down to the ground.” But upon the cross, he saw of the travail of his soul, and was satisfied. He saw that his sacrifice was accepted, and the object of his agony secured—that death would not be able to detain him in the grave, nor hell to defeat the purposes of his grace—that the gates of the eternal city would soon open to receive him as a conqueror, and myriads of exultant angels shout him to his throne; whither he would be followed by his redeemed, with songs of everlasting joy. He saw, and he was satisfied; and, not waiting for the morning of the third day, but already confident of victory, he uttered this note of triumph, and died.
And if we may suppose them to have understood its import, what a source of consolation must it have been to his sorrowing disciples! The sword had pierced through Mary’s heart, according to the prediction of old Simeon over the infant Jesus. Her affections had bled at the agony of her supernatural Son, and her wounded faith had wellnigh perished at his cross. And how must all his followers have felt, standing afar off, and beholding their supposed Redeemer suffering as a malefactor! How must all their hopes have died within them, as they gazed on the accursed tree! The tragedy was mysterious, and they deemed their enemies victorious. Jesus is treading the winepress in Bozrah, and the earth is shaking, and the rocks are rending, and the luminaries of heaven are expiring, and all the powers of nature are fainting, in sympathy with his mighty agony. Now he is lost in the fire and smoke of battle, and the dread artillery of justice is heard thundering through the thick darkness, and shouts of victory rise from the troops of hell, and who shall foretell the issue of the combat, or the fate of the Champion? But lo! he cometh forth from the cloud of battle, with blood upon his garments! He is wounded, but he hath the tread and the aspect of a conqueror. He waves his crimsoned sword, and cries—“It is finished!” Courage, ye weepers at the cross! Courage, ye tremblers standing afar off! The Prince of your salvation is victor, and this bulletin of the war shall cheer myriads of believers in the house of their pilgrimage, and the achievement which it announces shall constitute an everlasting theme of praise!
“It is finished!” The word smote on the walls of the celestial city, and thrilled the hosts of heaven with ecstasy unspeakable. How must “the spirits of just men made perfect” have leaped with joy, to hear that the Captain of their salvation was victorious over all his enemies, and that the work he had engaged to do for them and their brethren was completed! and with what wonder and delight must the holy angels have witnessed the triumph of him, whom they were commanded to worship, over the powers of darkness! It was the commencement of a new era in heaven, and never before had its happy denizens seen so much of God.
“It is finished!” Go, ye heralds of salvation, into all the world, and proclaim the joyful tidings! Cry aloud, and spare not; lift up your voice like a trumpet, and publish to all men, that the work of the cross is finished—that the great Mediator, “made perfect through sufferings,” has become “the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey him”—“is of God made unto us, wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption!” Go, teach the degraded Pagan, the deluded Mohammedan, and the superstitious Papist, that the finished work of Jesus is the only way of acceptance with God! Go, tell the polished scholar, the profound philosopher, and the vaunting moralist, that the doctrine of Christ crucified is the only knowledge that can save the soul! Go, say to the proud skeptic, the bold blasphemer, and the polluted libertine, “Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world!” Preach it to the gasping sinner upon his death-bed, and the sullen murderer in his cell! Let it ring in every human ear, and thrill in every human heart, till the gladness of earth shall be the counterpart of heaven!
SERMON XIII.
THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS.
“He is not here; for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.”—Matt. xxviii. 6.