I. There is in the human heart and in human life that which is not conducive to human happiness, viz., iniquity. Iniquity is inequality, or injustice, and a sinner is an unjust man. 1. He is unjust to himself. He is bound to render to himself what is due to his own nature—to care for his own real and highest interests—but this no ungodly man does. 2. He practises iniquity towards his neighbour. This follows from the first as a necessary consequence. Shakespeare thus admonishes us—
“To thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
But if a man is not true to himself, it follows as certainly that he will not be true to any other man—will not in its real and broad sense be a just man in his relations to others. 3. He practises iniquity towards God. He does not render to God that which is His just due, and this is indeed the foundation of his iniquity towards himself and his fellow-men.
II. Human nature cannot find within itself a remedy for its own iniquity. The man who is smitten with fever cannot find a remedy for his disease in his own diseased body—he must look somewhere else for a cure. There are remedies powerful in curing his disease, but they must be administered from without, they are not resident within him. So there is a cure for human iniquity, and that cure is to be found in contact with mercy and truth, but neither of these is to be found in fallen human nature, or, if some traces exist among men, the mercy is not abundant enough, and the truth is not unalloyed enough to effect the cure.
III. There is enough mercy and truth in God to do away with human iniquity. He has devised a plan by which His abundant mercy and His unsullied truth shall be brought into contact with sinful men in such a manner as to cure them of their sin. Mercy without truth could not meet the need, neither could truth without mercy. Mercy is needed to do away with the guilt of sin—to give remission for past transgressions, but it is equally needful that some standard of truth and righteousness should also be given, lest men “sin that grace may abound.” Mercy frees the sinner from the penalty of sin, but truth is brought into contact with his soul to free him from the power of sin. Being “made free from sin” men must “become servants of God,” and “have fruit unto holiness” (Rom. vi. 22). And to obtain this end there must be a reception into the human soul of Divine truth to transform it—to regenerate it. Hence when the “Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us,” and men “beheld His glory,” it was a glory “full of grace and truth” (John i. 14). For Homiletics on the second clause of this verse, see on chap. [xiv. 15] (page 364).
outlines and suggestive comments.
Loving and faithful conduct towards one’s neighbour is not in and of itself named as the ground of the expiation of sin, but only so far forth as it is a sign and necessary expression of a really penitent and believing disposition of heart, and so is a correlative to the fear of God, which is made prominent in the second clause; just as in the expression of Jesus with reference to the sinning woman (Luke vii. 47), or as in Isa. lviii. 7; Dan. iv. 34, etc.—Zöckler.
The purging of iniquity seems here to direct us to expiation, and considering that Divine mercy and truth are frequently exhibited in connection with this invaluable blessing, the analogy of faith appears to link it here with these combined perfections which kiss in Christ the Mediator (Psa. lxxxv. 10), and with that covenant of grace in which they shine so brightly. Should this view be thought not to cohere with the general tenor of this book, which deals more with practical points and matters of common life than with the deeper articles of faith, it may be observed that, when some of its pages are so fully illuminated by evangelical sunshine (chap. viii. 9), we might naturally expect—besides this connected splendour—occasional rays of doctrinal light to rest upon this system of Christian morals. . . . God purges iniquity by sacrifice, not nullifying the sanctions of the law by a simple deed of mercy, but combining the manifestations of His truth by fulfilling these sanctions upon the Surety which mercy provided (Isa. liii. 6, 2 Cor. v. 21). . . . So gloriously do these two attributes harmonise. We inquire not to which we owe the deepest obligation. Mercy engages, truth fulfils the engagements. Mercy provides—truth accepts—the ransom. Both sat together in the Eternal council. Both made their public entrance together into the world. Both, like the two pillars of the temple (1 Kings vii. 21), combine to support the Christian’s confidence. . . . The exercise of forgiveness is to implant a conservative principle. “By the fear of the Lord men depart from evil.” The supposition of pardon for a sinner continuing impenitent would be to unite the two contraries of reconciliation and enmity.—Bridges.
The Gospel in (1) Justification and (2) Sanctification is here as beautifully announced as by any of the apostles. Justification makes its appearance as a covering of iniquity by mercy and truth. “Mercy and truth” is the sum of holiness. How does holiness, therefore, which is “mercy and truth,” cover sin? Undoubtedly by the Gospel method. . . . But then there is to be a turning from evil. This is Sanctification. How is it to be accomplished? By ourselves, as the indispensable instrument. Mercy and truth win for us the Spirit; and then, under this outfit, we are to set out upon the journey. The man in the temple must lift forth his hand (Matt. xii. 10). But how are we to begin? This book tells us again and again. “The fear of Jehovah” is the beginning of wisdom (chap. ix. 10). The turning is by an access of fear. But how are we to continue? The turning is to be kept up. It is more like a departing. Sin, being slow to wear out, the turning has to go on; and it becomes a journey; and we travel each day, just as we set out. . . . And the very last of the journey, like the very beginning, is by “the fear of Jehovah.” The actual fear of Jehovah, tempered by love, is a thing of “discipline” (see on chap. [xv. 33]), which drives the Christian away from his iniquity.—Miller.
To fear the Lord and to depart from evil, are phrases which the Scriptures use in very great latitude to express to us the sum of religion and the whole of our duty. 1. It is very usual in Scripture to express the whole of religion by some eminent principle or part of it. The great principles of religion are knowledge, faith, remembrance, love, and fear. And religion is called the “knowledge of the holy” (Prov. xxx. 3), and the “remembrance of God” (Eccles. xii. 1), and the love of God (Rom. viii. 28, etc.), and here and elsewhere the “fear of the Lord” (Mal. iii. 16, etc.). So likewise the sum of all religion is often expressed by some eminent part of it, as it is here expressed by departing from evil. It is described by seeking God (Heb. xi. 6) and by calling on His name (Acts ii. 21), etc., etc. 2. The fitness of these two phrases to describe religion. The fitness of the first will appear if we consider how great an influence the fear of God hath upon men to make them religious. Fear is a passion that is most deeply rooted in our natures, and flows immediately from that principle of self-preservation which God hath planted in every man. Everyone desires his own preservation and happiness, therefore everyone has a natural dread of anything that can destroy them. And the greatest danger is from the greatest power, and that is omnipotency. So that the fear of God is an inward acknowledgement of a holy and just being, who is armed with an almighty and irresistible power; God having hid in every man’s conscience a secret awe and dread of His infinite power and eternal justice. Now fear, being so intimate to our nature, is the strongest bond of laws, and the great security of our duty. . . . For though we have lost in a great measure the gust and relish of true happiness, yet we still retain a quick sense of pain and misery. So that fear relies upon a natural love of ourselves, and is complicated with a necessary desire of our own preservation. And therefore religion usually makes its entrance into us by this passion; hence, perhaps, it is that Solomon more than once calls it the “beginning of wisdom.” As for the second phrase, the fitness of it will appear if we consider the necessary connection that there is between the negative and positive part of our duty. He that is careful to avoid all sin will sincerely endeavour to perform his duty. For the soul of man is an active principle, and will be employed one way or the other, it will be doing something; if a man abstain from evil he will do good. “Virtue begins in the forsaking of vice; and the first part of wisdom is not to be a fool.” . . . The law of God, contained in the Ten Commandments, consists mostly of prohibitions which yet include obedience likewise to the positive precepts contained in those prohibitions.—Tillotson.