Now, upon this same principle of encouraging the guilty to return, of awakening hope and effort in the minds of sinners, by a sense of his compassion toward the lost, God sent his Son to be the Saviour of the world. Christ began his work by acts of kindness toward the poorest, the lowest, the most helpless; and toward the greatest sinners. The objects which surrounded him, day after day, as subjects of his grace, and in which his soul delighted, were such as now fill our almshouses, insane hospitals, infirmaries, and our chambers of protracted sickness and disease, together with the subjects of demoniacal possession. But he had an object in the bestowment of his healing power upon these sufferers, beyond their relief from pain. He said to those whom he healed, when he saw that they were prepared for his word of grace, "Thy sins are forgiven thee." Matthew, and Zaccheus, and other publicans and sinners, found in him a Friend to the soul, and experienced in his mercy a joy surpassing that of mitigated pain. By his acts of kindness to the lost and wretched, he established, in the minds of the common people, this truth, that there is love in the heart of God for every miserable sinner; that his vileness, and his abandonment by the world, only commend him to God as an object of his compassion; that the Son of God came down from the skies to save the worst of men; and that it is impossible for a sinner to be sunk too low for his hand to find him, or for his grace to lift him up. Christ could not look on human woe without compassion. He could not see the widow following her only son to the grave, without pity, and he spoiled the monster, death, of his prey. John the Baptist, in prison, wished to know whether Christ was indeed that Messiah promised in the garden of Eden, foretold by prophets, and sung by the inspired bards; whom kings waited for, and the wise men went to worship. How did he convince John that he was that Messiah? He called a motley crowd of blind, lame, leprous, withered, squalid sufferers around him, with here and there a raving demoniac, and healed them. Then, to the two disciples that came to look at his credentials from heaven, and the sign manual from God, and to know if he were the Christ, he said, 'Go and show John again those things which ye do hear and see.' These are my credentials; this crowd is my witness that I am he. As the Saviour of the soul, he used these proofs of his love and power to draw the guilty and perishing sinner to his side. Such a sinner was she whose brief history we read in our text. Did Christ upbraid her, and send her away convinced of sin and of judgment to come? What wonderful charm did he employ to work such an overwhelming conviction in her, and, at the same time, make this conviction the means of the greatest joy she had ever felt? It was love and mercy that saved her; it was forgiveness that broke her hard heart; it was confidence in God and Christ that made her, a weak and friendless woman, courageous and strong. The Pharisees and scribes might have convinced her of her guilt, but she would never have bought an alabaster box of ointment to anoint their feet. "Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world;" - it was this direction, imparted by the divine Spirit, that rescued her from despair. In the dark recesses of her guilt, hope and peace were shed abroad by one who had words of comfort for her, and wounded her only that he might bind her up. It could be said of her soul, as it is said of heaven, The Lamb is the light thereof. Many are the instances in which conversion seems to be the immediate consequence of love and gratitude, and no anguish is felt, at the time, in view of sin. A need of Christ, as a Saviour, of course exists; but the overwhelming emotion is approbation of God's character and dealings, complacency in some particular attribute, gratitude to Christ for what he has done, an assurance of safety in looking at the cross of Christ, a conviction of the infinite willingness of God to save sinners. There is nothing more absurd than to suppose that there is one process through which every mind must go, in obtaining peace with God. Some have fallen asleep upon their pillows with strong crying and tears, and have waked from sleep in the morning, feeling that all creation was praising God, and with a heart to praise him too. Submission to God, in Christ, had taken place in that weeping, and, as a consequence, joy came in the morning, with the return of consciousness, after the composure of sleep. We cannot say that this, or that, or another order of thought and feeling is the way to find peace with God. Are you, then, a sinner? are you discouraged ? are you almost, if not quite, inclined to abandon hope, and all effort to save your soul, and to let the consequences of guilt come as fast and as fearful as they may? Does conversion, does religion, seem to you a mighty work, unattainable by you? and do you sink down, dismayed, at what you must do to be a Christian, and in despair at the recollection of past efforts, so fruitless, and, as you think, aggravating your guilt? How was it with this woman in our text? Love and gratitude led her on, and a sense of guilt and ruin made her come to the Saviour. Begin to love Christ, and all the conviction, and repentance, and faith, and hope, that you ever wished for, will flow forth from a regenerated heart; for 'he that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.' I would go, then, to my secret place, as this woman went to the Pharisee's house, to find Christ. Press your way to him, as she did with her box of ointment in her hand, to that chamber where Christ waits for you; there begin to thank and praise him for all that he suffered and has done for you. Think of nothing else; your sins, your ill desert, your past ill success, your future weakness, your fears; let all be forgotten, and begin to love your infinite Redeemer and Friend. What a way to be saved is this: to love the Saviour of the world. Thousands have proved it sure; why may not you? |