Plain Sermons, preached at Archbishop Tenison's Chapel, Regent Street. Second Series

by James Galloway Cowan

But there is even yet a better manifestation, one more really worthy of the name—that, namely, which is made to the Disciples, but not to the world.

In a sense, all that has hitherto been described was an external manifestation—a manifestation to the world. The Gospel was preached openly, the credentials of its heralds were publicly exhibited, whosoever would might hear and see; and only when they refused, and judged themselves unworthy of eternal life, did the Apostles turn away from them, or pass on to another place, shaking the dust off their feet as a testimony against them. Even the inward grace, the power to see spiritually, to believe, and to accept Christ, was so far manifested to the world, that it was offered to all, and was within the reach of all. The Apostles, who taught men their need of salvation, and exhorted them to save themselves, both showed them the way and promised them the grace of salvation; and thus, therefore, was Christ openly, and with power, manifested to the world. But, in the chapter of the text, Christ makes it a special promise to those that love Him, that He will manifest Himself to them. Judas (not Iscariot) rightly concludes that this is a manifestation which shall be made to none but approved disciples; and, accepting the promise, he ventures to ask, respecting its fulfilment, “Lord, how is it that Thou wilt manifest Thyself unto us, and not unto the world?”

It must be borne in mind that the Jewish notion, a notion shared by the disciples, was that the Messiah would manifest Himself in all the pomp and power of a triumphant earthly prince, exhibiting Himself to the whole world, ruling all the nations of the earth, and demanding the homage and adoration of all men. They waited in expectation that the kingdom of Israel would be restored, that Jerusalem would become the capital of the world, that Christ would sit visibly on a splendid throne, in the midst of her, and that they would occupy the nearest places to Him of honour and power. This notion was still theirs, as we know, when Christ led them out to the Mount of the Ascension; and we can well understand, therefore, that Judas, and those with him, must at this time have been greatly perplexed by the intimation, which Christ’s promise conveyed, that He was only to be manifested to those that love Him. It is out of this perplexity—not, as I said before, questioning the fact of a partial manifestation, but unable to understand it, and seeking enlightenment—that Judas asks, “Lord, how is it that Thou wilt manifest Thyself unto us, and not unto the world?”

The words translated “How is it,” render possible a threefold interpretation of this question. 1st. Lord, what has happened—how is it come to pass that the original design (at least, what we suppose to be the original design) of an universal manifestation is altered, and now only a partial manifestation to be afforded? 2ndly. Lord, what has been done by us, what special merits have we, whence is it that we are to be so signally favoured, and others passed over? 3rdly. Lord, what kind of manifestation will that be which some eyes only shall perceive? In what way wilt Thou reveal Thy presence to us, so that the world, in the midst of which we dwell, into the midst of which, therefore, Thou must come to us, shall not partake with us of the vision. It is scarcely profitable, perhaps, to consider whether or no the first interpretation is admissible; nor need we attempt to decide between the second and the third. Let us rather combine them; and taking the question out of Judas’s mouth, and adopting it as our own, let us reverently and teachably ask, as we need, of Him who giveth wisdom liberally, “Lord, how is it, on what account, and in what way, that Thou wilt manifest Thyself unto us, and not unto the world?”

I. On what account is He partial? Why does He make us to differ? Not then, for any recommendation we had to His favour—for we were all concluded under sin, and all guilty before God. Not again, for any merits or deserts in His service, for at the best, if we have done all that He set us to do (and who has?) we are yet but unprofitable servants. No! there was nothing which should make God respect and choose us before others; and we have done no work for which we can claim reward. God is no respecter of persons. It is impossible, by any mere natural deeds or efforts to please Him. We have all sinned and come short of His glory. We all sin, and deserve wrath every day. But Christ, Who would have all men to be saved, Who has died for all, and risen again for all, and sent down His Holy Spirit ready to justify, to sanctify, to bless all, has nevertheless made the bestowal of His grace conditional. He requires a certain “receptivity” for it. It is not thrust upon all, willing or unwilling, proud or humble, God-fearing or God-despising. Men must feel their need of it; and, feeling their need, they must express it, at least to Him, and must go to Him in His appointed ways to obtain it. Christ in sufficiency, in desire, the Saviour of all men, is, in fact, specially only the Saviour of them that believe—believe with that impelling desire, and that active faith, which make them flee to Him to be saved, and earnestly ask of Him, “What must I do to be saved?” And next, having this fitness, this receptivity for grace, and so receiving it, Christ requires men to treasure up the grace with reverence and godly fear; to use it with diligence, with zealous effort, to improve it, to grow in it; to strengthen it constantly by all appointed means of sustenance and exercise; to accomplish with it all that He wills and directs to be done; to be heartily grateful to the Author, the Sustainer, the Finisher of Salvation. “He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth Me, and he that loveth Me shall be loved of My Father, and I will love him, and will manifest Myself to him.” So then it is only to love that the manifestation is made; and love is proved by obedience, and obedience is the hearty faithful performance, in the spirit as well as the letter, of the expressed will of Christ.

And here, brethren, before we go further, let us see in the light of these conditions, why it is that religious influences affect so little the vast mass of mankind. There is a manifestation of Christ to the world. He is ever speaking in their ears and showing Himself to their eyes. His Church, with its Bible, its means of grace and ministry, its duration and extension, besides being a standing miracle, the infallible credential of His divine authority, the proof of His wisdom and His power, is a very exhibition of Himself, mighty and eager to save. The Spirit, which is with and in that Church, declares Himself to be able and ready to enlighten, and persuade, and strengthen all, without exception, without delay, if only they will come to Him. And yet how many, not only of the recklessly profane, the grossly carnal, the resolutely blind and deaf, but of the well-disposed, the moral, the albut exemplary, have no perception whatever of Christ! How many so-called Christians, not only in their business or their pleasure, when they turn away their eyes from the manifested God, but even when they come up to the sanctuary, when they read the Bible, when they kneel in prayer or stand to praise, when they look Zionwards, when they are all attent, eyes and ears, yet see no sight, and hear no sound of Christ! The world which they have left is remembered, and stands before them in a life-like picture. The sights they would not see, the sounds they would not hear, they cannot escape from; but Christ, the object of their worship, in some sense the desire of their eyes, they look for but cannot find; if He stands in the midst of them, they know it not!

Is not this, brethren, the experience of many of you? You do not, of course, ever expect open visions, perceptions with natural eyes and ears of a spiritually manifested Saviour; but do you not often fail to obtain what you think (and rightly) you ought to aim at obtaining, a real, though spiritual, a convincing, constraining, sanctifying, and cheering manifestation of Christ? Do you not often, do you not almost always find just that wanting, which should make religion real? “Oh!” you exclaim, “would that when I kneel down in church, to make solemn confessions, to utter supplications, to pray for pardon, for favour, for grace—oh! that such a vision of Christ were afforded me, that I were possessed with such feeling of His presence, as would prevent my turning away so readily from the solemnity, to see who is coming into church, to admire or criticise the dress or appearance of those beside me, to remember the worldliness of yesterday, to anticipate the worldliness of to-morrow. Oh! that when I sit with open Bible before me, and slight and slur over its difficult parts, and give little heed to the personal application of its histories, and treat albut with indifference its exhortations, its warnings, its promises, its threats—Oh! that some voice would recall me from my wandering, and dispel my irreverence, and concentrate my devout attention with its heard command, ‘Thus, saith the Lord, Hear what the Spirit saith.’ Oh! that when I go about the world, and neglect my religious duty here, and transgress it there, yielding readily to temptation, hankering after, following worldliness, led by the persuasions, awed by the frowns, constrained by the demands of the world, oh! that Christ would stand at least before my spiritual vision, and utter to the ears of my soul, ‘Forbear. Take up thy cross. Follow me.’ Oh, that He would do all this for others too: for those whom I love, who go farther out of the way, for the carnal, for the godless, for the souls that are carelessly, that are deliberately perishing! Oh! that for His own honour’s sake He would openly show Himself and dispute—with the Devil, with Mammon, with Pleasure, with Folly—the possession of the souls which He has purchased for Himself! Why does He not give some proof, why does He not exercise some persuasion which must be felt, which could not be disregarded? Oh! that He would rend the heavens and come down; that He would cheer the saint; that He would confound and convert the sinner by His manifested presence.”

It is thus, if I mistake not, that we sometimes think and wish. But, brethren, the words which prompted Judas to speak, reprove our thoughts. They show us that it is not by oversight, by defect, by mismanagement, by any failure to accomplish what was intended, but by deliberate design, by exact fulfilment of what God proposed, that the real, the strong influences of Christianity are not brought to bear upon men generally.

Christ manifests not Himself fully to the world. He never meant to do it. He never will do it, till he comes to judgment.

God, we are told, “will have mercy on whom He will have mercy, and whom He will He hardeneth.” These awful words do not mean what some attempt to make out of them—that there is an arbitrary election to salvation, and so for all others an inevitable destruction. They mean rather that while His mercy is ready to flow, and is always flowing, if you desire it, you must go to the fountain for it. God is under no necessity to save all men. We do not confer a favour on Him by consenting to be saved. His glory will be manifested in destruction as in salvation. He desires to save us. He will save us, and rejoice in our salvation, if we seek to be saved: but if we are rebellious, or indifferent, if we will not comply with the conditions on which only He will manifest His best presence to us, then we must not complain, if He makes good His declaration, and proves it by withholding Himself from us, that whom He wills (and in what way He wills) on them He has mercy, and all others, though He long bears with them, and gives them much time and opportunity for conforming to His will, yet is He content, yea, determined to leave them in their hardness, to confirm them in their hardness, because they will not be softened in the way which He has chosen to prescribe.