Christmas Evans, the Preacher of Wild Wales / His country, his times, and his contemporaries

by Edwin Paxton Hood

The predictions of His death are fulfilled. The prophets had spoken of His crucifixion many hundred years before His birth. They foresaw the Governor who was to come forth from Bethlehem. They knew the Babe in the manger, as He whose goings forth are of old, even from everlasting. They drew an accurate chart of His travels, from the manger to the cross, and from the cross to the throne. All these things must be fulfilled. Jesus knew the necessity, and seemed anxious that every jot, and tittle should receive an exact accomplishment. His whole life was a fulfilment of prophecy. On every path He walked, on every house He entered, on every city He visited, and especially on the mysterious phenomena which accompanied His crucifixion, it was written—“that the Scriptures might be fulfilled.”

The great sacrifice for sin is accomplished. For this purpose Christ came into the world. He is our appointed High Priest, the elect of the Father, and the desire of the nations. He alone was in the bosom of the Father, and could offer a sacrifice of sufficient merit to atone for human transgression. But it was necessary also that He should have somewhat to offer. Therefore a body was prepared for Him. He assumed the seed of Abraham, and suffered in the flesh. This was a sacrifice of infinite value, being sanctified by the altar of Divinity on which it was offered. All the ceremonial sacrifices could not obtain the bond from the hand of the creditor. They were only acknowledgment of the debt. But Jesus, by one offering, paid the whole, took up the bond, the hand-writing that was against us, and nailed it to the cross; and when driving the last nail, He cried—“It is finished!”

The satisfaction of Divine justice is completed. The violated law must be vindicated; the deserved penalty must be endured; if not by the sinner himself, yet by the sinner’s Substitute. This was the great undertaking of the Son of God. He “bore our sins”—that is, the punishment of our sins—“in His own body on the tree.” He was “made a curse for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” There was no other way by which the honour of God and the dignity of His law could be sustained, and therefore “the Lord laid upon Him the iniquities of us all.” He “died unto sin once;” not merely for sin, enduring its punishment in our stead; but also “unto sin,” abolishing its power, and putting it away. Therefore it is said, He “made an end of sin”—destroyed its condemning, and tormenting power on behalf of all them that believe His sufferings were equal to the claims of justice; and His dying cry was the voice of Justice Himself proclaiming the satisfaction. Here, then, may the dying thief, and the persecutor of the holy, lay down their load of guilt, and woe at the foot of the cross.

The new, and living way to God is consecrated. A veil has hitherto concealed the holy of holies. None but the High Priest has seen the ark of the covenant, and the glory of God resting upon the Mercy-seat between the cherubim. He alone might enter, and he but once a year, and then with fear, and trembling, and the sprinkling of atoning blood, after the most careful purification, and sacrifice for himself. He has filled His hands with His own blood, and entered into heaven itself, there to appear in the presence of God for us. The sweet incense which He offers fills the temple, and the merit of His sacrifice remains the same through all time, superseding all other offerings for ever. Therefore we are exhorted to come boldly to the throne of grace. The tunnel under the Thames could not be completed on account of an accident which greatly damaged the work, without a new subscription for raising money; but Jesus found infinite riches in Himself, sufficient for the completion of a new way to the Father—a living way through the valley of the shadow of death to “the city of the Great King.”

The conquest of the powers of darkness is achieved. When their hour was come, the prince and his host were on the alert to accomplish the destruction of the Son of God. They hailed Him with peculiar temptations, and levelled against Him their heaviest artillery. They instigated one disciple to betray Him and another to deny Him. They fired the rage of the multitude against Him, so that the same tongues that lately sang, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” now shouted, “Crucify Him! crucify Him!” They filled the priests, and scribes with envy, that they might accuse Him without a cause; and inspired Pilate with an accursed ambition, that he might condemn him without a fault. They seared the conscience of the false witnesses, that they might charge the Just One with the most flagrant crimes; and cauterized the hearts of the Roman soldiers, that they might mock Him in His sufferings, and nail Him to the cross. Having succeeded so far in their hellish plot, they doubtless deemed their victory certain. I see them crowding around the cross, waiting impatiently to witness his last breath, ready to shout with infernal triumph to the depths of hell, till the brazen walls should send back their echoes to the gates of the heavenly city. But hark! the dying Saviour exclaims—“It is finished!” and the great dragon and his host retreat, howling, from the cross. The Prince of our Salvation turned back all their artillery upon themselves, and their own stratagems became their ruin. The old serpent seized Messiah’s heel, but Messiah stamped upon the serpent’s head. The dying cry of Jesus shook the dominions of death, so that the bodies of many that slept arose; and rang through all the depths of hell the knell of its departed power. Thus the Prince of this world was foiled in His schemes, and disappointed in his hopes, like the men of Gaza, when they locked up Samson at night, thinking to kill him in the morning: but awoke to find that he was gone, with the gates of the city upon his shoulders. When the Philistines caught Samson, and brought him to their Temple, to make sport for them, they never dreamed of the disaster in which it would result—never dreamed that their triumph over the poor blind captive would be the occasion of their destruction. “Suffer me,” said he, “to lean on the two pillars.” Then he bowed himself, and died with his enemies. So Christ on Calvary, while the powers of darkness exulted over their victim, seized the main pillars of sin, and death, and brought down the temple of Satan upon its occupants; but on the morning of the third day, He left them all in the ruins, where they shall remain for ever, and commenced His journey home to His Father’s house.

II. So much concerning the import of our Saviour’s exclamation. Such was the work 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 He, but I lie 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 this 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 oh, how was He straitened till it was accomplished! His “soul was exceedingly 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 purpose 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.