Letters, chiefly practical and consolatory

Contents

Let. 1. On the Sufferings of Christ, 1

2. On the Glory of Christ, 19

& On the Invitations and Promises of the Gospel, ... 34*

Letter I. On" The Sufferings Of Christ

General observations on the sufferings of Christ— They continued through his life— The nature of those he endured in Gethsemane and on the Cross— Their expiatory design- Were inflicted by God as the lawgiver— Flowed from a sense of the evil of sin and of the Divine displeasure, and from the desertion of his Father— This typified under the law — Were -endured in circumstances of shame — Were increased by the powers of darkness, and by many other secondary causes ; and terminated in death.

The sufferings of Christ constitute so important a part of Christianity, and are so prominently exhibited in Scripture, that our comfort and deportment in religion must be much influenced by our views of their nature and design. To this subject, allow me to direct your attention in the present letter. I do not mean to confine myself to the last scene of his sorrows, but to take a general view of the nature of all that he suffered. Neither do I intend to dwell on his afflictions, apart from the principles of his character. It is not difficult to see that, in considering the history of his humiliation, we ought to contemplate not only his sufferings in

VOL, I. B themselves, but particularly their causes — the admir* able principles, motives, and views, which animated him in bearing them ; and also their glorious issue, both as it regards God and man. We ought not, therefore, to view them as we would do any tragical scene ; but with a constant eye on their peculiar nature, and the character which they served to develop.

I begin with observing, that it appears from Scripture, the sufferings of our Lord continued through life; and that his one righteousness includes the whole of his obedience and his death. It is wrong to confine his righteousness to any one part of his humiliation and woe. The Scriptures represent it as including all that he did; in taking upon him our nature ; in perfectly obeying the Divine law; in submitting to the pains, sorrows, and sufferings, which so grievously afflicted him; and in giving himself an offering and a sacrifice unto God. These all form that one work by which the glory of the Divine character is vindicated and illustrated; the law magnified and made honourable; and a way opened, through which God appears the just God, and yet the Saviour.

But though his sufferings continued through life, they were not at all times equally severe. There were times in which he enjoyed comparative ease, and there were seasons of gladness which occasionally brightened the dark and dreary path of his humiliation. He rejoiced in spirit when he saw Satan fall as lightning from heaven; and when the Samaritans were about to acknowledge him, he said to his disciples that he had meat to eat that they knew not of. As he stood in the room of sinners, it behoved him to suffer all those miseries to which they are obnoxious through life ; while, at the same time, as God exercises much long-' suffering and forbearance towards them, and moderates the evils of life, by many instances of kindness ; so, in like manner, the Saviour, when on earth, had not always the same sense of the painful effects of our sins, but sometimes enjoyed a measure of gladness, till the hour and power of darkness came, when the unmixed curse of the violated law of Heaven fell upon his devoted head. How comfortable is it to us, that his joy arose from the conversion of sinners ; that his intervals of gladness were seasons in which the salvation of the guilty was contemplated as the certain and blissful result of his work !

But as he had seasons of gladness, so he had also many seasons of extreme distress in the course of his life. Gethsemane and Calvary were not the only scenes of his sorrow. Before the last and awful conflict in the garden and on the cross, he exclaimed, cc Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I say ?" This marks the deep and distressful agitation of his spirit, and must be viewed as similar to what he endured in the night on which he was betrayed. " In the days of his flesh, he offered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears." " The days of his flesh" include more than the hour of his agony in Gethsemane, and his distressing hours upon the cross— they must include the entire period of his humiliation, and particularly that of his public ministry. We accordingly find, from the history of these days, that he dismissed the multitude and his disciples, and then retired, not to repose himself, but to pray, Matth. xiv. 23, 25 ; that, rising at a very early hour, he went to a solitary place, and there prayed, Mark i. 35 ; that he went to a mountain to pray, and continued in that exercise the whole of the night, Luke vi. 12 ; and that, when he went to the Mount of Olives, after the observance of the passover, it was as he was wont, Luke xxii. 39. Compare all this with what is said of the nature of those prayers, and of the circumstances in which they were offered, in those psalms in which he is the speaker. His language in Psalm xxii. 2, cannot refer merely to what took place in his last agony in the garden; for that took place about midnight : and here he says, u O my God, I cry in the day-time, but thou hearest not neither can it refer merely to what took place on the cross, because that happened during the day : and here he says, that he cried unto God in " the night season*' Nor is this all.

The words cannot be confined to any one particular night and day, but are clearly expressive of daily and nightly, continual sorrow, as is confirmed by the expression which follows : " And am not silent;" or, as in the margin, "there is no silence to me." This mode of speaking leads at once to the passages I have quoted respecting his prayers — his continuing in them all night- — his doing so on mountains, and in solitary places —and of this being his usual custom. It ought likewise to be observed, that as the second verse of this psalm cannot be confined to the scenes of Gethsemane and Calvary, so neither can the Jirst ; for these two verses are evidently connected, and form one complaint. He had often, then, by night and by day, thus cried unto God, and had frequently expressed himself in the doleful language which he at last uttered publicly on Calvary. In the instance already mentioned, which is recorded in John xii. 27? there is the same state of anguish which is exhibited on the cross, though less in degree. The distress of his soul naturally excited a desire of deliverance, and he exclaimed, " Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I say ?" This marked the anguish of his heart, and throws light on the language which he immediately used — the meaning of which appears to be: " Shall I say, Father, save me from this hour ? No, for I came on purpose for this hour. I will say, Father, glorify thy name, cost me what it may. I ask not the salvation of sinners, at the expense of thy glory. Rather than thy character should be dishonoured, I bare my breast to the stroke of that sword which thou hast called to awake against me," John xii. 27* 28. Zech. xiii. 7. Thus did the Saviour now suffer,, as well as afterwards, and thus did he manifest the spirit which influenced him to the last. This illustrates his complaint, that he had "been afflicted and ready to die from his youth up," Psalm Ixxxviii. 15. It accords with what David says as his type, ec My life is spent with grief, and my years with sighing," Psalm xxxi. 10; and shows the importance of such of the psalms as contain the substance of the prayers offered up by him on earth. We are in these psalms brought, as it were, into his closet, are made the witnesses of his secret devotions, and are enabled to see even the inward workings of his heart. It is affecting thus to contemplate his feelings,- and the exercise of his high and hallowed principles, in the presence of his Father.

The Scriptures, however, do certainly direct us in a particular manner to the last scene of his work and of his woes ; because it was the grand completion of his sufferings and undertaking in the room of sinners. The Evangelists have spoken fully of what he endured during the night on which he was betra}^ed. The seat of his sufferings at that time was his soul ; for no human hand had as yet touched him. His body, it is true, was greatly affected, but this was occasioned by the distress and anguish of his mind. The heaviest bodily affliction is easily borne when the mind is at ease ; for u the spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity ; but a wounded spirit who can bear?" Prov. xviii. 14. That, therefore,' which constituted the essence of his sufferings was of a mental kind. He was overwhelmed with sorrow of the most excruciating nature, which made him exclaim, " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death," Matth. xxvi, 38. Sorrow is the very essence of the curse denounced against sin, Gen. iii. 17; Matth. viii. 12 ; and he who was made " a curse for us/' endured it to the utmost. The sorrows of death compassed him, and the pains of the invisible world got hold upon him, Psalm cxvi. 3. He felt as if besieged with sorrow ; so that, to whatever quarter he turned, the bitter cup of anguish presented itself. His anguish was of so deadly a nature, that it threatened the dissolution of his frame even before he had reached the cross, and at last did actually cause his death.

We are also told that he was sore amazed. — This denotes a state of the utmost horror and consternation. We know that fear, when raised to the highest pitch, is a most tormenting passion. Often has nature entirely sunk under it. But of all conditions, that of being in the hands of the living God, is the m%t fearful ; and in his hands the Saviour now was, Heb. x. 31. He is likewise represented as being very heavy, or in a state of the deepest dejection and depression of spirit, Mark xiv. 33. Now, though we cannot form a proper idea of the weight of his sufferings, we are sensible that deep horror, accompanied with poignant sor* row and comfortless dejection, must be misery without mixture. Let us turn aside, and see this great sight — the Son of God in an agony. See him, in this bitter conflict of nature, starting back, as overwhelmed with horror — struck with amazement and consternation— and encompassed with sorrow and anguish ! See him going backward and forward; at one time kneeling, and at another falling prostrate on the ground ; seeking for comforters in his disciples, and piteously complaining, tc What ! could ye not watch with me one hour }" —going again and again to his Father, and praying, Matth. xxvi. 40, with increasing intenseness of mind, that this bitter cup might for a time be withdrawn ! Consider the labours and the strivings of his thoughts ;

the flaming passions and affections which rushed upon his mind at once ; and it will not be matter of wonder that he should have exclaimed, " Save me, O God ; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink in the deep mire, where there is no standing ; I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me I" Psalm lxix. 1, 2. His heart was preternaturally fired within him, so as to force a passage through the body for his rarefied blood; for his sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood falling down to the ground. The agony of his soul must have been bitter beyond conception, when such was its effect upon his body in the open air, at midnight, and when they who were within found it necessary to defend themselves against the cold. His firm heart was ready to break, and immediate death was threatened; but knowing that much remained to be accomplished, it was his prayer that the cup might for n time pass from him. His prayer was heard ; an angel appeared to strengthen him ; and he regained composure to act with propriety before his judges and the people, and to suffer what he endured before he reached the cross. *

On the cross, the scene of Gethsemane was renewed — the cup was again presented to him, and there he drank it to the very dregs ! On Calvary his distress reached its height, and drew from him the bitter exclamation, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" Matt, xxvii. 46. Mysterious dereliction ! only to be accounted for by the nature of his death. I may

* See Doddridge on Luke xxii. 4.2. Our Lord did not prav to be entirely excused from sufferings and death. Such a petition had been inconsistent with that steady constancy he always showed, and with his language, in John xii. 27, 23, in which he disowns such a prayer. He speaks of the severity of the present combat which threatened dissolution, before the Scriptures, relative to his last sufferings, had been fulfilled.

here remark, that the ordinary modes of execution are soon over; but not only was Jesus subjected to the sentence of the law during his whole life, that sentence was terminated by the slow mode of crucifixion ; which lingering mode of death left his mental faculties at full liberty, and so best afforded an opportunity of displaying to the full the many glories of his character. His protracted sufferings on Calvary called forth the whole qualities of his heart, enabled him to show that he laid down his life of himself ; and they diffused a sweet savour over his oblation. Here he could not manifest the deep and restless agitation of his heart by going to and fro, and changing his posture, as he did in the garden ; but it was indicated by other circumstances. His words marked it, as did also his countenance. The sun was clothed with darkness ; not only as an expression of the Divine displeasure against hi* foes, and a token of the awful darkness of his mind when under the frown of Heaven, but also as an expression of respect for the sufferer, whose mental torture must at that time have <( marred his visage more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men so that his countenance must have presented a spectacle more easily conceived than described. Over this scene a veil was thrown ; yet it must have been in some degree apparent. * How soothing, when we think of such sufferings, to consider his praver for his murderers— his mercy to the malefactor by his side — his minute attention to the prophecies of scripture — his care for his mother — and the solemn and devout manner in which he endured the inflictions of the heavenly Judge !

He at last expired under the curse, not so much in consequence of the exhaustion of nature by bodily pain

* See, in connection with this, such passages as Psalm xxii. 6—8, 14, 15 ; lxix. 3, 9 ; cii. 3—5, 11. Isa. lii. U ; liii. 3.

and the loss of blood, (for in the article of death he cried with a loud voice,, and Pilate marvelled when he heard of it,) as in consequence of the extreme pressure of mental torture,, Matt, xxvii. 50. Mark xv. 44. This was too racking, too exquisite, for nature to support — it literally broke his heart. That sorrow which is the very soul of the curse, terminated his life ; and thus discovered the nature of his sufferings, together with their great and glorious design.

It must be of the first importance to ascertain the causes of sufferings so great, and so deeply interesting to us. It cannot be that they arose merely from the fear of death. If, to a person so exalted and so distinguished, death itself had been so terrible, how dreadful would it be to us ! Instead of having set us free from the fear of death, this king of terrors would have been rendered more formidable than ever. But, blessed be God, the death of the Redeemer was no common death ; we need not, therefore, dread the last enemy. Many of the children of God, who have been naturally timid, and deeply sensible of their guilt and their weakness, have engaged in the last struggle with peaceful hearts, yea, with unutterable gladness, even when death appeared in its most painful and frightful forms. They have met the most cruel deadly tortures with fortitude, and have discovered no 'dread or dejection ; but, on the contrary, the most placid tranquillity, and even the highest emotions of joy. Whence the difference between the Master, who is all dejection and consternation, even to such a degree as to affect his body in the most extraordinary manner, and the servant, who, in the prospect of martyrdom, exults in the hope of the " crown of righteousness?" 2 Tim. iv= 6, 7, 8 The difference is to be found in this — that Christ died as a sacrifice for sin, and in the peculiar nature and measure of the sufferings which were necessary to that sacrifice.

Whether we consider the state of destitution to which he was reduced, or what he endured from positive infliction,, we cannot but see that his sufferings were as unparalleled as was the character which he sustained. He bare our sins in his own body on the tree,, that he might redeem us from the curse of the law and the power of death ; that, dying under the weight of the Divine displeasure, we might be blessed in life, at death, and throughout eternity. Thus the curse is exhausted, and the cup put into our hands has nothing of wrath in it, but is entirely medicinal, even in its most bitter ingredients, Rom. viii. 35 — 3Q. 1 Cor. iii. 21 — 23.

It is evident, my dear friend, that the sufferings of Christ arose from the hand of his Father, in the character of Judge and Lawgiver, Isaiah liii. 6. Zech. xiii. 7- As such, it became him to express his displeasure against sin ; that, while mercy triumphed, it might not be at the expense of justice, or of the general good, He loved the guilty, and would have had no difficulty in saving them without an atonement, had this been consistent with righteousness, with the glory of his character, the honour of the law, the good of the universe and of the guilty themselves. Christ did not purchase the love of God ; his death is the fruit, and not the price of it. It opened a channel through which the love of God flows to the guilty, in a way at once honourable to him and beneficial to them. There is nothing here bordering on rigour or cruelty ; but a sacred regard to rectitude and the Divine law, united with the warmest benevolence towards sinners. The Saviour, personally considered, was never the object of the Divine displeasure. Even when the hand of God was most heavily upon him, he was the object of Divine delight ; and, confident of this, he said, c< Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life for the sheep/' John x. 17« But, considered as the representative of sinners,, it behoved him to suffer the dismal consequences of the divine displeasure against their rebellion,, so that he must have felt that he suffered the effects of the Divine indignation.

One great cause of the sufferings of Christ, was the clear perception which he had of the sins of his people, in all their odiousness and malignity. His holy mind was deeply affected by the evil and hatefulness of rebellion against God. Well did he know the high and righteous claims of God on the love and the obedience of all ; and the violated obligations of man, with the tendency and awful effects of sin, were fully before him. Our feelings in regard to sin are blunted by the slightness of our views of guilt ; but he had the clearest perceptions of the evil and demerit of transgression, and he hated it with his whole heart. The more dearly he loved his people, the more would his trouble be increased ; as we are much more affected by the crimes of a relative or friend, than by the crimes of others, Psalm xl. 12. Such a view of the evil and hateful nature of sin must have been inconceivably painful to the Saviour, when it was not counterbalanced by an equally clear view of good, which during his last sufferings he had not ; because at that time he was left to distress unmingled with gladness.

In this hour of anguish he had a deep sense of the Divine wrath against sin. Though he was personally the object of the Divine love, he endured that which, to the guilty, is the awful expression of the Divine displeasure. The God of our spirits can easily deluge the soul with sorrow and anguish, even when the spirit is pure, and is the object of his approbation. In such a case, the painful feelings cannot be those of a guilty conscience ; and, in the case of our Lord, there could be nothing of this kind. It is utterly wrong to represent his sufferings, as in all respects the same with those of the impenitent in the world of woe. They eat of the fruit of their own ways — they are under the dominion of the most sinful propensities — their ungovernable passions are for ever excited, and never find gratification — they have no self-respect, but are conscious of personal guilt, and filled with remorse— and their final despair is accompanied with every furious and malignant principle, and with settled hostility to the character and government of God. Nothing of this nature could have place in the breast of the Saviour. He knew, and he confessed, the sinfulness and demerit of man. He acq uitted the throne of Cod, and laid the undivided blame on the sinner. Even when he exclaimed, in the bitterness of his soul, ee My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" he murmured not, but said, " Thou art holy," Psalm xxii, 3. When his heart was broken, and his spirit distracted with agonies passing comprehension, he bowed with profound and cheerful submission to the hand of God, and with perfect resignation drank the whole of the bitter cup.

It were equally wrong, on the other hand, to infer, from the difference between his sufferings and those of the finally condemned, that his woes were not of the most intense kind. That difference arises from the opposite characters of the parties. Where no difference of character exists, there must be a similarity of suffering or enjoyment. We are apt to connect future punishment with place, to such a degree, as to suppose that the former cannot be endured but in a particular local situation ; but place is only a circumstance, not at all affecting the essence of punishment. In as far as Jesus could feel it, he endured the wrath of God due to sin. He was in the hands of the living God, who has access into the innermost recesses of the heart, and can excite a degree of sensibility far exceeding in intenseness what the mind of man can possibly conceive. He had the most awful views of God, as the author and the vindicator of the law— as armed with all that judgment which is included in the curse of the Almighty — as in the act of executing the most tremendous threatenings of his word — and as called upon., in his public character, to inflict on the surety of sinners the full desert of their atrocious rebellion. It was not death in itself from which he suffered so much ; but death as penal, or as the wages of sin. He contemplated God in the character of the offended Judge ; and., under a sense of his anger against sin, he was filled with dread. His outward sufferings were nothing to the distresses of his soul ; of the former we find him,, accordingly speaking with the greatest composure,, Matth. xx. 17 — ^9, while the latter called forth the most bitter exclamations and the most intense supplications, Heb. V. 7. Matth. xxvi. 36—42. Mark xv. 34.

Another ingredient in his cup was the desertion of his Father : of this he speaks in the most plaintive manner,, Psalm xxii. 1. lxxxviii. 14. Separation from God is a part of the curse : hence Adam was expelled Eden ; and hence, too, the wicked shall be doomed to depart from the presence of Him in whose favour is life, Matth. xxv. 41. 2 Thess. i. 9- Psalm Ixix. 3, 17. This may be thought light here, but in the other world it causes inexpressible misery. As it forms an essential part of the curse due to sin, it behoved our Lord to experience it when he stood for the guilty. This, however, is a subject awfully mysterious, and on which little can be said. He felt himself given up to the will of his enemies, and to all that sin deserved, without one cheering ray of his Father's countenance to mitigate his distress. This w T as the summit, the bitterest ingredient of his sufferings. If life lies in the favour of God, and his frown be destructive of the bliss of a spiritual being, the sufferings of the Piedeemer must have been inconceivably great when the frown of Jehovah fell upon him. The bitter lamentations which this extorted from him discover the feelings of his heart. Although he was kept from utterly sinking, there were seasons when he endured the total absence of Divine joy, and the entire want of every kind of comfort. Not that his mind was always in this state, even in the deepest of his trials ; but this was,, on such occasions, and particularly in the last scenes of his suffering, the general state of his soul.

To him the sun of consolation was then totally eclipsed. Our depravity, and the weakness of our powers, hinder us from forming adequate ideas of his distress, when deprived of the light of his Father's countenance, and doomed to suffer his frown. This is the deepest misery which man can feel, and misery of which the Redeemer must have been most painfully sensible, in consequence of his situation, the greatness of his powers, and the holiness of his character. Xo evil principle obscured his view of the Divine glory — no sinful bias kept him from perceiving, in the most vivid light, the worth of the Divine favour — and nothing could cool his love to Jehovah, or turn away his heart from him. The more he loved God, the clearer views he had of his glory ; and the more that he delighted in fellowship with him, the greater must have been his sorrow and anguish of heart when the Father hid his face from him. His aversion to this was the language of nature, which must ever be averse to pain : but it was much more : it was also the fruit of piety ; as the more lie was devoted to God, the greater must have been his aversion to that which cut him off from the enjoyment of him, Psalm xvi. 5 — 11. The more, too, that he was averse to the cup on such principles, the more glorious does his drinking of it appear, that the Divine law, character, and government, might be honoured, and the salvation of sinners thus completely secured. The reluctance of our Lord to the cup,, and the distress of his soul when drinking of it, show the strength of his love both to God and man, and admirably manifest the perfection of his character, Psalm xl. 7, 8. His sufferings afforded an opportunity for the exercise and display of all that is great and good — of all that can command the highest veneration, the warmest love, and the most heartfelt gratitude.

To prefigure our Lord's endurance of that separation from God, which is an essential part of the curse, the most remarkable of the sin-offerings were burnt without the camp. As polluted victims, they were removed from the place where God dwelt. In like manner, Jesus suffered without the gate of the holy city, because he was in the eye of the law an unclean victim, Heb. xiii. 11, 12. This was but an indication of his actual state, as separated from the enjoyment of fellowship with God. He died in an unclean place, where the bones of many of the dead, and these of the worst character too, lay all around : every thing in the -place, as well as in the manner of his death, marking him out as dying under the frown of Heaven, and in a state of exclusion from the holy sanctuary of Jehovah. From this sanctuary every thing unclean wac excluded under the law ; and, in allusion to this, our Lord speaks of his sufferings as a pollution, and in this light they were viewed by the Jews, Psalm xxii. 6, 7. Every one saw that our Lord's sufferings were of no common character. The circumstances attending his bodily sufferings were unprecedented, and their effects upon his mind were remarkable ; while, on the other hand, the effects of his mental torture upon his body were still more striking. Psalm cix. 22 — 25, and xxii. 11 — 21. Much must have been visible which was calculated to offend those who could look only to the outward appearance, and to give occasion to his enemies to triumph over him.