Companion to the Bible

by E. P. Barrows

8. The character of Jesus of Nazareth, as drawn by the four evangelists, is the highest possible proof of the authenticity and credibility of the gospel narratives. Of this it has been justly said, "The character is possible to be conceived, because it was actualized in a living example." (Nature and the Supernatural, p. 324.) The inapproachable excellence of Christ's character places it high above all human praise. The reverent mind shrinks instinctively from the idea of attempting to eulogize it, as from something profane and presumptuous. We do not eulogize the sun shining in his strength, but we put a screen over our eyes when we would look at him, lest we should be blinded by the brightness of his beams. So must every man look at Jesus of Nazareth with reverence and awe, who has any true sense of what is great and excellent. What is now to be said of this character is not eulogy. It is part of an argument for the reality of the events recorded in the gospel history. Here it is important to notice not only the character itself, but the manner of the portraiture, and its power over the human heart.

The character of Jesus is perfectly original. Nothing like it was ever conceived of by the loftiest minds of antiquity. Nothing like it has appeared since his day, in actual life, or even in the conceptions of the most gifted writers. As there is one sun in the firmament, so there is one Jesus Christ in the history of the world. His character has a human and a divine element; and these two interpenetrate each other, so as to constitute together one indivisible and glorious whole. Jesus could not be, even in idea, what he is as man, unless he were God also. And what he is as God, he is as God made flesh, and dwelling as man among men. It is the God-man which the gospel narratives present to us. If we consider the qualities which belong to our Saviour as man, we notice the union in full measure and just proportion of all those qualities which belong to perfect humanity. In the case of mere men, the abundant possession of one quality implies almost of necessity deficiency elsewhere, and consequently one-sidedness of character. Not so in the case of Jesus. He has all the attributes of a perfect man in perfect fulness and in perfect harmony with each other. Let us reverently look at some particulars.

His character unites the deepest tranquillity with the deepest fervor of spirit. Our Lord's tranquillity shines forth through the whole course of his ministry, and manifests itself alike in great things and small. It is evident to all who read the narratives of the evangelists that he performed his mighty works as one conscious that divine power belonged to him of right, and that the exercise of it, even in its highest forms, was nothing new nor strange. In connection with his greatest miracles he calmly gave directions, as if they had been ordinary occurrences. When he had fed many thousands with a few loaves and fishes, he said, "Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." When he had raised from the dead the daughter of Jairus, "he commanded that something should be given her to eat." When he had called out of the grave one who had lain there four days, he directed, "Loose him and let him go." Even in Gethsemane, when oppressed with agony too great for human endurance, his self-possession remained as perfect as his submission to his Father's will. That his serenity never left him for a moment during the process of his arrest, trial, sentence, and lingering death on the cross, is a truth which shines forth from the sacred narrative as his own raiment did on the mount of transfiguration, "white and glistering." Any attempt to describe it would be but mockery. And yet this deep composure of spirit is not that of indifference or of a cold temperament. It is the composure of one in whose bosom burns a steady and intense flame of zeal for the glory of God and good will towards men, by which he is borne forward with untiring energy in the work committed to him from above. It is the composure of a spirit whose depth of emotion none can measure.

We notice again the union in our Lord of perfect wisdom with perfect freedom from guile and double dealing. That his wisdom was never at fault all must admit. He was surrounded by crafty adversaries, who contrived all manner of plans to entangle him in his talk. Yet in the twinkling of an eye he turned their wiles against themselves, and they found themselves taken in their own net. Meanwhile he always pursued the straightforward course of sincerity and truth. Not the slightest trace of deceit or cunning artifice appeared in his ministry from first to last.

Closely allied to the above-named qualities are prudence and boldness, both of which met in full measure in our Lord's character. That he feared no man and shrank from no peril when it was his duty to encounter it, is too obvious to be insisted on. Yet he never needlessly encountered opposition and danger. He was never bold for the purpose of making a show of boldness. When the Jews sought to kill him, he "walked in Galilee" to avoid their enmity. When his brethren went up to the feast in Jerusalem, he would not go up with them, but afterwards went up, "not openly, but as it were in secret." When, at a later day, after the resurrection of Lazarus, the Jews sought his life, he "walked no more openly among the Jews; but went thence into a country near to the wilderness, into a city called Ephraim, and there continued with his disciples." Not until the time had come that he should die for the sins of the world did he expose himself to the rage of his enemies; and then he went boldly into Jerusalem at the head of his disciples. His own precept, "Be ye wise as serpents and harmless as doves," he perfectly exemplified throughout his ministry.

We cannot but notice once more the union in our Lord's character of the greatest tenderness with unbending severity whenever the cause of truth demanded severity. He opened his ministry at Nazareth by reading from the prophet Isaiah a portraiture of his own character: "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord." Isa. 61:1, 2. The execution of this mission required a tender and forbearing spirit, that would not break the bruised reed or quench the smoking flax; and such was the spirit of his whole ministry. For the penitent, though publicans and sinners, he had only words of kindness. Towards the infirmities and mistakes of his sincere disciples he was wonderfully forbearing. When a strife had arisen among the apostles which of them should be the greatest, instead of denouncing in severe terms their foolish ambition, he called to himself a little child and set him in the midst, and from him gave them a lesson on the duty of humility. Yet this tender and compassionate Jesus of Nazareth, who took little children in his arms and blessed them, who stood and cried, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest," and who wept at the grave of Lazarus—this same Jesus could say to Peter when he would deter Him from the path of duty, "Get thee behind me, Satan!" and could denounce in the presence of all the people the scribes and Pharisees who sat in Moses' seat. In truth, the most severe denunciations of hypocrisy and wickedness contained in the New Testament and the most awful descriptions of the future punishment of the impenitent fell from our Saviour's lips. In his tenderness there was no element of weakness.

Our Lord's perfect meekness and humility need no human comment. They shine forth with serene brightness through all his words and actions. He described himself as "meek and lowly in heart," and his life was a perpetual illustration of these qualities. "When he was reviled, he reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously." But the point to be particularly noticed is the wonderful harmony of this meek and lowly mind with claims more lofty than were ever conceived of by any man before him—claims everywhere boldly asserted, and which, as we shall see hereafter, implied the possession of a divine nature. It is not that he claimed and exercised power over nature or outward power over men, even power to raise the dead, that fills us with awe and amazement; but that he went within the spirit, and offered inward life, light, strength, peace—in a word, life eternal—to all who would come to him; and that he asserted, in a way as decisive as it was calm, his absolute control over the everlasting destinies of all men. When we read the account of these superhuman claims, we have no feeling that they were incongruous or extravagant. On the contrary, they seem to us altogether legitimate and proper. And yet, as has been often remarked, were any other person to advance a tithe of these pretensions, he would be justly regarded as a madman. The only possible explanation is, that this meek and lowly Jesus made good his claim to be the Son of God by what he was and by what he did.

Another quality very conspicuous in our Lord's character is his perfect elevation above this world. "Ye are from beneath," said he to the Jews; "I am from above: ye are of this world; I am not of this world." It was not in his origin alone, but in his spirit also that he was from above. As he was from heaven, so was he heavenly in all his affections. His own precept to his disciples, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven," was the law of his own life. He had no treasures here below but the souls of men; and these are not earthly, but heavenly treasures. Satan plied him in vain with the offer of "all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them." In him "the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" could find no place for a single moment. He kept the world always and perfectly under his feet. Yet this perfect elevation above the world had in it no tinge of stoicism or asceticism. He made no war upon the genuine passions and affections of human nature, but simply subjected them all to his higher spiritual nature; in other words to the law of God. Except temporarily for meditation and prayer, he never withdrew himself, nor encouraged his disciples to withdraw themselves from the cares and temptations of an active life, under the false idea of thus rising to a state of superhuman communion with God. He did not fast himself systematically, nor enjoin upon his disciples systematic fastings, but left fastings for special emergencies. In a word, he ate and drank like other men. His heavenly mind lay not in the renunciation of God's gifts, but in maintaining his affections constantly raised above the gifts themselves to the divine Giver. It took on a human, and therefore an imitable form.

And what shall we say of our Lord's spotless purity of heart and life? We cannot eulogize it, for it is above all human praise. But we can refresh the eyes of our understanding by gazing upon it, as upon a glorious sun, until we feel its vivifying and transforming power in our own souls.

In contemplating the above qualities, it is of the highest importance to notice that, though they exist in such fulness and perfection, they are yet human, and therefore imitable. They are not the virtues of an angel in heaven, or of a king on the throne, or of a philosopher in his school, or of a monk in his cell; but of a man moving among men in the sphere of common life, and filling out common life with all the duties appropriate to it. His example then is available for the imitation of the lowest not less than the highest. It offers itself to all classes of men as a model of all that is good in human nature. We may boldly affirm that such a character as this could never have been conceived of, if it had not actually existed.