This is a particularly poignant sermon concerning saving faith. Charles
Spurgeon preached this sermon many years ago and it is very relevant for
today's Christian.
May God bless,
Carl
my website -- http://www.nettally.com/saints/
my blog -- http://www.anniemayhem.com/cgi-bin/wordpress/
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Saving Faith
by Charles H. Spurgeon
"Thy faith hath saved thee."-Luke 7:50; and Luke 18:42.
I do not remember that this expression is found anywhere else in the Word
of
God. It is found in these two places in the Gospel by Luke, but not in any
other Gospel. Luke also gives us in two other places a kindred, and almost
identical expression, "Thy faith hath made thee whole." This you will find
used in reference to the woman whose issue of blood had been staunched
(Luke
8:48), and in connection with that one of the ten lepers who returned to
praise the Saviour for the cure he had received (Luke 17:19). You will
find
the expression, "Thy faith hath made thee whole" once in Matthew and twice
in Mark, but you find it twice in Luke, and together therewith the twice
repeated words of our text, "Thy faith hath saved thee." Are we wrong in
supposing that the long intercourse of Luke with the apostle Paul led him
not only to receive the great doctrine of justification by faith which
Paul
so plainly taught, and to attach to faith that high im****tance which Paul
always did, but also to have a peculiar memory for those expressions which
were used by the Saviour, in which faith was manifestly honoured to a very
high degree. Albeit Luke would not have written anything which was not
true
for the sake of maintaining the grand doctrine so clearly taught by the
apostle, yet I think his full conviction of it would help to recall to his
memory more vividly those words of the Lord Jesus from which it could be
more clearly learned or illustrated. Be that as it may, we know that Luke
was inspired, and that he has written neither more nor less than what the
Saviour actually said, and hence we may be quite sure that the expression,
"Thy faith hath saved thee," fell from the Redeemer's lips, and we are
bound
to accept it as pure unquestionable truth, and we may repeat it ourselves
without fear of misleading others, or trenching upon any other truth. I
mention this because the other day I heard an earnest friend say that
faith
did not save us, at which announcement I was rather surprised. The
brother,
it is true, qualified the expression, and showed that he meant to make it
clear that Jesus saved us, and not our own act of faith. I agreed with
what
he meant, but not with what he said, for he had no right to use an
expression which was in flat contradiction to the distinct declaration of
the Saviour, "Thy faith hath saved thee." We are not to strain any
expression to make it mean more than the speaker intended, and it is well
to
guard words from being misunderstood; but on the other hand, we may not
quite go so far as absolutely to negative a declaration of the Lord
himself,
however we may mean to qualify it. It is to be qualified if you like, but
it
is not to be contradicted, for there it stands, "Thy faith hath saved
thee."
Now we shall this morning, by God's help, inquire what was it that saved
the
two persons whose history will come before us? It was their faith. Our
second inquiry will be what kind of faith was it which saved them? and
then
thirdly, what does this teach us in reference to faith?
I. WHAT WAS IT THAT SAVED the two persons whose history we are about to
consider?
In the penitent woman's case, her great sins were forgiven her and she
became a woman of extraordinary love: she loved much, for she had much
forgiven. I feel, in thinking of her, something like an eminent father of
the church who said, "This narrative is not one which I can well preach
upon; I had far rather weep over it in secret." That woman's tears, that
woman's unbraided tresses wiping the Saviour's feet, her coming so near to
her Lord in such company, facing such proud cavillers, with such fond and
resolute intent of doing honour to Jesus; verily, among those that have
loved the Saviour, there hath not lived a greater than this woman who was
a
sinner. Yet for all that Jesus did not say to her, "Thy love hath saved
thee." Love is a golden apple of the tree of which faith is the root, and
the Saviour took care not to ascribe to the fruit that which belongs only
to
the root. This loving woman was also right notable for her repentance.
Mark
ye well those tears. Those were no tears of sentimental emotion, but a
rain
of holy heart-sorrow for sin. She had been a sinner and she knew it; she
remembered well her multitude of iniquities, and she felt each sin
deserved
a tear, and there she stood weeping herself away, because she had offended
her dear Lord. Yet it is not said, "Thy repentance hath saved thee." Her
being saved caused her repentance, but repentance did not save her. Sorrow
for sin is an early token of grace within the heart, yet it is nowhere
said,
"Thy sorrow for sin hath saved thee." She was a woman of great humility.
She
came behind the Lord and washed his feet, as though she felt herself only
able to be a menial servant to perform works of drudgery, and to find a
pleasure in so serving her Lord. Her reverence for him had reached a very
high point; she regarded him as a king, and she did what has sometimes
been
done for monarchs by zealous subjects-she kissed the feet of her heart's
Lord, who well deserved the homage. Her loyal reverence led her to kiss
the
feet of her Lord, the Sovereign of her soul, but I do not find that Jesus
said, "Thy humility hath saved thee;" or that he said, "Thy reverence hath
saved thee;" but he put the crown upon the head of her faith, and said
expressly, "Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace."
In the case of the blind man to whom my second text refers-this man was
notable for his earnestness; he cried, and cried aloud, "Son of David,
have
mercy on me." He was notable for his im****tunity, for they who would have
silenced him rebuked him in vain; he cried so much the more, "Son of
David,
have mercy on me." But I do not discover that Christ attributed his
salvation to his prayers, earnest and im****tunate though they were. It is
not written, "Thy prayers have saved thee"; it is written, "Thy faith hath
saved thee." He was a man of considerable and clear knowledge, and he had
a
distinct apprehension of the true character of Christ: he scorned to call
him Jesus of Nazareth, as the crowd did, but he proclaimed him "Son of
David," and in the presence of that throng he dared avow his full
conviction
that the humble man, dressed in a peasant's garb, who was threading his
way
through the throng, was none other than the royal heir of the royal line
of
Judah, and was indeed the fulfiller of the type of David, the expected
Messiah, the King of the Jews, the Son of David. Yet I do not find that
Jesus attributed his salvation to his knowledge, to his clear
apprehension,
or to his distinct avowal of his Messiah****p; but he said to him, "Thy
faith
hath saved thee," laying the entire stress of his salvation upon his
faith.
This being so in both cases, we are led to ask, what is the reason for it?
What is the reason why in every case, in every man that is saved, faith is
the great instrument of salvation? Is it not first because God has a right
to choose what way of salvation he pleases, and he has chosen that men
should be saved, not by their works, but by their faith in his dear Son?
God
has a right to give his mercy to whom he pleases; he has a right to give
it
when he pleases; he has a right to give it in what mode he pleases; and
know
ye this, O sons of men, that the decree of heaven is immutable, and
standeth
fast forever-"He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved; he that
believeth not shall be damned." To this there shall be no exception;
Jehovah
has made the rule and it shall stand. If thou wouldst have salvation,
"believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved"; but if not,
salvation is utterly impossible to thee. This is the appointed way; follow
it, and it leads to heaven; refuse it, and thou must perish. This is God's
sovereign determination, "He that believeth on him is not condemned, but
he
that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed on
the
Son of God." Jehovah's will be done. If this be his method of grace, let
us
not kick against it. If he determines that faith shall save, so let it be;
only, Good Master, create and increase our faith.
But while I attribute this to the sovereign choice of God, I do see, for
Scripture plainly indicates it, a reason in the nature of things why faith
should thus have been selected. The apostle tells us it is of faith that
it
might be of grace. If the condition of salvation had been either feeling
or
working, then, such is the depravity of our nature, that we should
inevitably have attributed the merit of salvation to the working or the
feeling. We should have claimed something whereof to glory. It matters not
how low the condition may have been, man would have still considered that
there was something required of him, that something came from him, and
that,
therefore, he might take some credit to himself. But no man, unless he be
demented, ever claims credit for believing the truth. If he hears that
which
convinces him, he is convinced; and if he be persuaded, he is persuaded;
but
he feels that it could not well be otherwise. He attributes the effect to
the truth and the influence used. He does not go about and boast because
he
believes what is so clear to him that he cannot doubt it. If he did so
boast
of spiritual faith, all thinking men would say at once, "Wherefore dost
thou
boast in the fact of having believed, and especially when this believing
would never have been thine if it had not been for the force of the truth
which convinced thee, and the working of the Spirit of God which
constrained
thee to believe?" Faith is chosen by Christ to wear the crown of salvation
because-let me contradict myself-it refuses to wear the crown. It was
Christ
that saved the penitent woman, it was Christ that saved that blind beggar,
but he takes the crown from off his own head, so dear is faith to him, and
he puts the diadem upon the head of faith and says, "Thy faith hath saved
thee," because he is absolutely certain that faith will never take the
glory
to herself, but will again lay the crown at the pierced feet, and say,
"Not
unto myself be glory, for thou hast done it; thou art the Saviour, and
thou
alone." In order, then, to illustrate and to protect the interests of
sovereign grace, and to shut out all vain glorying, God has been pleased
to
make the way of salvation to be by faith, and by no other means.
Nor is this all. It is clear to every one who chooses to think that in
order
to the renewal of the heart, which is the chief part of salvation, it is
well to begin with the faith; because faith once rightly exercised becomes
the mainspring of the entire nature. The man believes that he is forgiven.
What then? He feels gratitude to him who has pardoned him. Feeling
gratitude, it is but natural that he should hate that which displeases his
Saviour, and should love intensely that which is pleasing to him who saved
him, so that faith operates upon the entire nature, and becomes the
instrument in the hand of the regenerating Spirit by which all the
faculties
of the soul are put into the right condition. As a man thinketh in his
heart
so is he, but his thinkings come out of his believings; if he be put right
in his believings, then his understanding will operate upon his
affections,
and all the other powers of his manhood, and old things will pass away,
all
things will become new through the wonderful effect of the faith, which is
of the operation of God. Faith works by love, and through love it purifies
the soul, and the man becomes a new creature. See ye then the wisdom of
God?
He may choose what way he will, but he chooses a way which at once guards
his grace from our felonious boastings, and on the other hand produces in
us
a holiness which other wise never would have been there.
Faith in salvation, however, is not the meritorious cause; nor is it in
any
sense the salvation itself. Faith saves us just as the mouth saves from
hunger. If we be hungry, bread is the real cure for hunger, but still it
would be right to say that eating removes hunger, seeing that the bread
itself could not benefit us, unless the mouth should eat it. Faith is the
soul's mouth, whereby the hunger of the heart is removed. Christ also is
the
brazen serpent lifted up; all the healing virtue is in him; yet no healing
virtue comes out of the brazen serpent to any who will not look; so that
the
looking is rightly considered to be the act which saves. True, in the
deepest sense it is Christ uplifted who saves, to him be all the glory;
but
without looking to him ye cannot be saved, so that
"There is life in a look,"
as well as life in the Saviour to whom you look. Nothing is yours until
you
appropriate it. If you be enriched, the thing appropriated enriches you;
yet
it is not incorrect but strictly right to say it is the appropriation of
the
blessing which makes you rich. Faith is the hand of the soul. Stretched
out,
it lays hold of the salvation of Christ, and so by faith we are saved.
"Thy
faith hath saved thee." I need not dwell longer on that point. It is
self-evident from the text that faith is the great means of salvation.
II. WHAT KIND OF FAITH WAS IT that saved these people? I will mention,
first, the essential agreements; and then, secondly, the differentia, or
the
points in which this faith differed in its external manifestations in the
two cases.
In the instances of the penitent woman and the blind beggar, their faith
was
fixed alone in Jesus. You cannot discover anything floating in their faith
in Jesus which adulterated it; it was unmixed faith in him. the woman
pressed forward to him, her tears fell on him; her ointment was for him;
her
unloosed tresses were a towel for his; feet she cared for no one else, not
even for the disciples whom she respected for his sake; her whole spirit
and
soul were absorbed in him. He could save her; he could blot out her sins.
She believed him; she did it unto him. The same was the case with that
blind
man. He had no thought of any ceremonies to be performed by priests; he
had
no idea of any medicine which might be given him by physicians. His cry
was,
"Son of David, Son of David." The only notice he took of others was to
disregard them, and still to cry, "Son of David, Son of David." "What wilt
thou that I shall do unto thee?" was the Lord's question, and it answered
to
the desire of his soul, for he knew that if anything were done it must be
done by the Son of David. It is essential that our faith must rest alone
on
Jesus. Mix anything with Christ, and you are undone. If your faith shall
stand with one foot upon the rock of his merits, and the other foot upon
the
sand of your own duties, it will fall, and great will be the fall thereof.
Build wholly on the rock, for if so much as a corner of the edifice shall
rest on anything beside, it will ensure the ruin of the whole:-
"None but Jesus, none but Jesus
Can do helpless sinners good."
All true faith is alike in this respect.
The faith of these two was alike in its confession of unworthiness. What
meant her standing behind? What meant her tears, her everflowing tears,
but
that she felt unworthy to draw near to Jesus? And what meant the beggar's
cry, "Have mercy on me?" Note the stress he lays upon it. "Have mercy on
me." He does not claim the cure by merit, nor ask it as a reward. To mercy
he appealed. Now I care not whose faith it is, whether it be that of David
in his bitter cries of the fifty-first Psalm, or whether it be that of
Paul
in his highest exaltation upon being without condemnation through Christ,
there is always in connection with true faith a thorough and deep sense
that
it is mercy, mercy alone, which saves us from the wrath to come. Dear
hearer, do not deceive yourself. Faith and boasting are as opposite to one
another as the two poles. If you come before Christ with your
righteousness
in your hand, you come without faith; but if you come with faith you must
also come with confession of sin, for true faith always walks hand in hand
with a deep sense of guiltiness before the Most High. This is so in every
case.
Their faith was alike, moreover, in defying and conquering opposition.
Little do we know the inward struggles of the penitent as she crossed the
threshold of Simon's house. "He will repel thee," the stern, cold Pharisee
will say, "Get thee gone, thou strumpet; how darest thou defile the doors
of
honest men." But whatever may happen she p***** through the door, she
comes
to where the feet of the Saviour are stretched out towards the entrance as
he is reclining at the table, and there she stands. Simon glanced at her:
he
thought the glance would wither her, but her love to Christ was too well
rooted to be withered by him. No doubt he made many signs of his
displeasure, and showed that he was horrified at such a creature being
anywhere near him, but she took no notice of him. Her Lord was there, and
she felt safe. Timid as a dove, she trembled not while he was near; but
she
returned no defiant glances for Simon's haughty looks; her eyes were
occupied with weeping. She did not turn aside to demand an explanation of
his unkind motions, for her lips were all engrossed with kissing those
dear
feet. Her Lord, her Lord, was all to her. She overcame through faith in
him,
and held her ground, and did not leave the house till he dismissed her
with
"Go in peace."
It was the same with the blind man. He said, "Son of David, have mercy on
me." They cried, "Hush! Why these clamours, blind beggar? His eloquence is
music; do not interrupt him. Never man spake as he is speaking. Every tone
rings like the harps of the angels. Hush! How darest thou spoil his
discourse?" But over and above them all went up the im****tunate prayer,
"Son
of David, have mercy upon me," and he prevailed. All true faith is
opposed.
If thy faith be never tried it is not born of the race of the church
militant. "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith,"
but it is indicated in that very declaration that there must be something
to
overcome, and that faith must wage war for its existence.
Once more, the faith of these two persons was alike in being openly
avowed.
I will not say that the avowal took the same form in both, for it did not;
but still it was equally open. There is the Saviour, and there comes the
weeping penitent. She loves him. Is she ashamed to say so? It may bring
her
reproach; it will certainly rake up the old reproaches against her, for
she
has been a sinner. Never mind what she has been, nor who may be present to
see her. She loves her Lord, and she will show it. She will bring the
ointment and she will anoint his feet, even in the presence of Pharisees,
Pharisees who would say, "Is this one of the disciples of Christ? A pretty
convert to boast of! A fine conquest this, for his kingdom! A harlot
becomes
a disciple! What next and what next?" She must have known and felt all
that,
but still there was no concealment. She loved her Lord, and she would avow
it, and so in the very house of the Pharisee, there being no other
op****tunity so convenient, she comes forward, and without words, but with
actions far more eloquent than words, she says, "I love him. These tears
shall show it; this ointment shall diffuse the knowledge of it, as its
sweet
perfume fills the room; and every lock of my hair shall be a witness that
I
am my Lord's and he is mine." She avowed her faith.
And so did the blind man. He did not sit there and say, "I know he is the
Son of David, but I must not say it." They said, some of them
contemptuously, and others indifferently, "It is Jesus of Nazareth." But
he
will not have it so. "Thou Son of David," saith he; and loud above their
noise I hear him cry, like a herald proclaiming the King, "Son of David."
Why, sirs, it seems to me he was exalted to a high office: he became the
herald of the King, and proclaimed him, and this belongs to a high officer
of State in our country. The blind beggar showed great decision and
courage.
He cried in effect, "Son of David thou art; Son of David I proclaim thee;
Son of David thou shalt be proclaimed, whoever may gainsay it; only turn
thine eyes and have mercy upon me." Are there any of you here who have a
faith in Christ which you are ashamed of? I also am ashamed of you, and so
also will Christ be ashamed of you when he cometh in the glory of his
Father
and all his holy angels with him. Ashamed to claim that you are honest?
Then
methinks you must live in bad company, where to be a rogue is to be
famous;
and if you are ashamed to say, "I love my Lord," methinks you are courting
the friend****p of Christ's enemies, and what can you be but an enemy
yourself: If you love him, say it. Put on your Master's regimentals,
enlist
in his army, and come forward and declare, "As for me and my house, we
will
serve the Lord." Their faith was alike then in these four particulars, it
was fixed alone on him, it was accompanied with a sense of unworthiness,
it
struggled and conquered opposition, and it openly declared itself before
all
comers.
By your patience I shall now try to show the differences between the same
faith as to its manifestations. First, the woman's faith acted like a
woman's faith. She showed tender love, and the affections are the glory
and
the strength of women. They were certainly such in her. Her love was
intense, womanly love, and she poured it out upon the Saviour. The man's
faith acted like a man's in its determination and strength. He persisted
in
crying, "Thou Son of David." There was as much that was masculine about
his
faith as there was of the feminine in the penitent's faith, and everything
should be in its order and after its season. It would not have been meet
for
the woman's voice to be heard so boldly above the crowd; it would have
seemed out of place for a man's tears to have been falling upon the
Saviour's feet. Either one or the other might have been justifiable, but
they would not have been equally suitable. But now they are as suitable as
they are excellent. The woman acts as a godly woman should. The man like a
godly man. Never let us measure ourselves by other people. Do not, my
brother, say, "I could not shed tears." Who asked thee to do so? A man's
tears are mostly within, and so let them be: it is ours to use other modes
of showing our love. And, my sister, do not say, "I could not act as a
herald and publicly proclaim the King." I doubt not thou couldest do so if
there were need, but thy tears in secret, and those wordless tokens of
love
to Jesus which thou are rendering, are not less acceptable because they
are
not the same as a man would give. Nay, they are the better because they
are
more suitable to thee. Do not think that all the flowers of God's garden
must bloom in the same colour or shed the same perfume.
Notice next that the woman acted like a woman who had been a sinner. What
more meet than tears? What more fitting place for her than at the
Saviour's
feet? She had been a sinner, she acts like a sinner; but the man who had
been a beggar acted like a beggar. What does a beggar do but clamour for
alms? Did he not beg gloriously? Never one plied the trade more earnestly
than he. "Son of David," said he, "have mercy on me." I should not have
liked to have seen the beggar sitting there weeping; nor to have heard the
penitent woman shouting. Neither would have been natural or seemly. Faith
works according to the condition, cir***stances, ***, or ability of the
person in whom it lives, and it best shows itself in its own form, not in
an
artificial manner, but in the natural outflow of the heart.
Observe, also, that the woman did not speak. There is something very
beautiful in the golden silence of the woman, which was richer than her
silver speech would have been. But the man was not silent; he spoke; he
spoke out, and his words were excellent. I venture to say that the woman's
silence spoke as powerfully as the man's voice. Of the two I think I find
more eloquence in the tears bedewing, and unbraided hair wiping the
Saviour's feet, than in the cry, "Son of David, have mercy on me." Yet
both
forms of expression were equally good, the silence best in the woman with
her tears, and the speech best in the man with his confident trust in
Christ. Do not think it necessary, dear friend, in order to serve, to do
other people's work. What thine own hand findeth to do, do it with thy
might. If you think you can never honour Christ till you enter a pulpit,
it
may be just possible that you will afterwards honour him best by getting
out
of it as quickly as you can. There have been persons well qualified to
adorn
the religion of Christ with a lapstone on their lap who have thought it
necessary to mount a pulpit, and in that position have been a hindrance to
Christ and his gospel. Sister, there is a sphere for you; keep to it, let
none push you out of it; but do not think there is nothing else to do
except
the work which some other woman does. God has called her, let her follow
God's voice; he calls you in another direction, follow his voice thither.
You will be most like that other excellent woman when you are most
different
from her: I mean, you will be most truly obedient to Christ, as she is, if
you pursue quite another path.
There was a difference, again, in this. The woman gave-she brought her
ointment. The man did the opposite-he begged. There are various ways of
showing love to Christ, which are equally excellent tokens of faith. To
give
him of her ointment, and give him of her tears, and give him the
accommodation of her hair, was well; it showed her faith, which worked by
love: to give nothing, for the beggar had nothing to give, but simply to
honour Christ by appealing to his bounty and his royal power, was best in
the beggar. I can commend neither above the other, for I doubt not that
both
the penitent and the beggar gave Christ their whole heart, and what more
does Jesus ask for from any one?
The thoughts of the woman and the thoughts of the beggar were different
too.
Her thoughts were mainly about the past, and her sins-hence her tears. To
be
forgiven, that was her point. His thoughts were mainly about the present,
and did not so much concern his sin as his deficiency, infirmity, and
inability, and so he came with different thoughts. I do not doubt that he
thought of sin, as I dare say she also thought of infirmity; but in her
case
the thought of sin was uppermost, and hence the tears; in his the
infirmity
was uppermost, and hence the prayer, "Lord, that I might receive my
sight."
Do not, then, compare your experience with that of another. God is a God
of
wonderful variety. The painter who repeats himself in many pictures has a
paucity of conception, but the master artist scarcely ever sketches the
same
thing a second time. There is a boundless variety in genius, and God who
transcends all the genius of men, creates an infinite variety in the works
of his grace. Look not, therefore, for likeness everywhere. The woman, it
is
said, loved much, and she proved her love by her acts; but the man loved
much too, and showed his love by actions which were most admirable, for he
followed Jesus in the way, glorifying God. Yet they were different
actions.
I do not find that he brought any box of ointment, or anointed Christ's
feet, neither do I find that she literally followed Christ in the way,
though no doubt she followed him in the spirit; neither did she with a
loud
voice glorify God as the restored blind beggar did. There are differences
of
operation, but the same Lord; there are differences of capacity and
differences of calling, and by this reflection I hope you will be enabled
to
deliver yourselves from the fault of judging one by another, and that you
will look for the same faith, but not for the same development of it.
So interesting is this subject that I want you to follow me while I very
rapidly sketch the woman's case, and then the man's, not mentioning the
differences one by one, but allowing the two pictures to impress
themselves
separately upon your minds.
Observe this woman. What a strange compound she was. She was consciously
unworthy, and therefore she wept, yet she drew very near to Jesus. Her
acts
were those of nearness and communion; she washed his feet with her tears,
she wiped them with the hairs of her head, and meanwhile she kissed them
again and again. "She hath not ceased," said Christ, "to kiss my feet." A
sense of unworthiness, and the enjoyment of communion, were mixed
together.
Oh, divine faith which blends the two! She was shamefaced, yet was she
very
bold. She dared not look the Master in the face as yet; she approached him
from behind; yet she dared face Simon, and remain in his room, whether he
frowned or no. I have known some who have blushed in the face of Christ
who
would not have blushed before a judge, nor at the stake, if they had been
dragged there for Christ's sake. Such a woman was Anne Askew, humble
before
her Master, but like a lioness before the foes of God.
The penitent woman wept, she was a mourner, yet she had a deep joy; I know
she had, for every kiss meant joy. Every time she lifted that blessed
foot,
and kissed it, her heart leaped with the trans****t of love. Her heart knew
bitterness for sin, but it knew also the sweetness of pardon. What a
mixture! Faith made the compound. She was humble, never one more so; yet
see
how she takes upon herself to deal with the King himself. Brethren, you
and
I are satisfied, and well we may be, if we may wash the saints' feet, but
she was not. Oh, the courage of this woman! She will pass through the
outer
court, and get right to the King's own throne, and there pay her homage,
in
her own person, to his person, and wash the feet of the wonderful, the
Counsellor, the mighty God. I know not that an angel ever performed such
suit and service, and therefore this woman takes preeminence as having
done
for Jesus what no other being ever did. I have said that she was silent,
and
yet she spake; I will add, she was despised, but Christ set her high in
honour, and made Simon, who despised her, to feel little in her presence.
I
will also add she was a great sinner, but she was a great saint. Her great
sinner****p, when pardoned, became the raw stuff out of which great saints
are made by the mighty power of God. Finally she was saved by faith, so
says
the text, but if ever there was a case in which James could not have said,
"Shall faith save thee?" and in which he must have said, "Here is one that
shows her faith by her works," it was the case of this woman. There she is
before you. Imitate her faith itself, though you cannot actually copy her
deeds.
Now look at the man. He was blind, but he could see a great deal more than
the Pharisees, who said they could see. Blind, but his inward optics saw
the
king in his beauty, saw the splendour of his throne, and he confessed it.
He
was a beggar, but he had a royal soul, and a strong sovereign
determination
which was not to be put down. He had the kind of mind which dwells in men
who are princes among their fellows. He is not to be stopped by disciples,
nay, nor by apostles. He has begun to pray, and pray he will till he
obtains
the boon he seeks. Note well that what he knew he avowed, what he desired
he
pleaded for, and what he needed he understood. "Lord, that I might receive
my sight;" he was clear about his needs, and clear about the only person
who
could supply them. What he asked for he expected, for when he was bidden
to
come he evidently expected that his sight would be restored, for we are
told
by another Evangelist that he cast away his beggar's cloak. He felt he
should never want to beg again. He was sure his eyes were about to be
opened. Lastly, what he received he was grateful for, for as soon as he
could walk without a guide he took Christ to be his guide, and followed
him
in the way, glorifying him. Look on both pictures. May you have the
shadows
and the lights of both, as far as they would tend to make you also another
and distinct picture by the selfsame artist, whose hand alone can produce
such wonders.
III. WHAT DOES THIS TEACH US IN REFERENCE TO FAITH? It teaches us first
that
faith is all im****tant. Do, I pray you, my hearers, see whether you have
the
precious faith, the faith of God's elect. Remember there are not many
things
in Scripture called precious, but there is the precious blood, and there
goes with it the precious faith. If you have not that you are lost; if you
have not that you are neither fit to live nor fit to die; if you have not
that, your eternal destiny will be infinite despair; but if you have
faith,
though it be as a grain of mustard seed, you are saved. "Thy faith hath
saved thee."
Learn next that the main matter in faith is the person whom you believe. I
do not say in whom you believe. That would be true, but not quite so
scriptural an expression. Paul does not say, as I hear most people quote
it,
"I know in whom I have believed." Faith believes Christ. Your faith must
recognise him as a person, and come to him as a person, and rest not in
his
teaching merely, or his work only, but in him. "Come unto me, all ye that
labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." A personal Saviour
for sinners! Are you resting on him alone? Do you believe him? You know
the
safety of the building depends mainly upon the foundation, and if the
foundation be not right, you may build as you will, it will not last. Do
you
build, then, on Christ alone? Inquire about that as a special point.
Observe next, that we must not expect exactly the same manifestation in
each
convert. Let not the elders of the church expect it, let not parents
require
it from their children; let not anxious friends look for it; do not expect
it in yourself. Biographies are very useful, but they may become a snare.
I
must not judge that I am not a child of God because I am not precisely
like
that good man whose life I have just been reading. Am I resting in Christ?
Do I believe him? Then it may be the Lord's grace is striking out quite a
different path for me from that which has been trodden by my brother, that
it may illustrate other phases of its power, and show to principalities
and
powers the exceeding riches of divine love.
And, lastly, the matter which sums up all is this, if we have faith in
Jesus
we are saved, and ought not to talk or act as if there were any question
about it. "THY FAITH HATH SAVED THEE." Jesus says it. Granted, you have
faith in Christ, and it is certain that faith hath saved you. Do not,
therefore, go on talking and acting and feeling as if you were not saved.
I
know a company of saved people who say every Sabbath, "Lord, have mercy
upon
us, miserable sinners"; but they are not miserable sinners if they are
saved, and for them to use such words is to throw a slight upon the
salvation which Christ has given them. If they are saved sinners they
ought
to be rejoicing saints. What some say others do not say, but they act as
if
it were so. They go about asking God to give them the mercy they have
already obtained, hoping one day to receive what Christ assures them is
already in their possession, talking to others as if it were a matter of
question whether they were saved or not, when it cannot be a matter of
question. "Thy faith hath saved thee." Fancy the poor penitent woman
turning
round and saying to the Saviour, "Lord, I humbly hope that it is true."
There would have been neither humility nor faith in such an expression.
Imagine that blind man, when Christ said, "Thy faith hath saved thee,"
saying "I trust that in future years it will be found to be so." It would
be
a belying at once of his own earnest character and of Christ's honesty of
speech. If thou hast believed, thou art saved. Do not talk as if thou wert
not, but now down from the willows take thy harp, and sing unto the Lord a
new song. I have noticed in many prayers a tendency to avoid speaking as
if
facts were facts. I have heard this kind of expression, "The Lord hath
done
great things for us, whereof we desire to be glad." The text is, "The Lord
hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad;" and if the Lord has
done these great things for us our right is to be glad about them, not to
go
with an infamous "if" upon our lips before the Lord who cannot lie. If ye
are dealing with your fellow creatures, suspect them, for they mostly
deserve it; if ye are listening to their promises, doubt them, for their
promises go to be broken; but if ye are dealing with your Lord and Master,
never suspect him, for he is beyond suspicion; never doubt his promises,
for
heaven and earth and hell shall pass away, but not one jot or tittle of
his
word shall fail. I claim for Christ that ye cast away forever all the talk
which is made up of "buts," and "ifs," and "peradventures," and "I hope,"
and "I trust." You are in the presence of One who said, "Verily, verily,"
and meant what he said, who is "the Amen, the faithful and true witness."
You would not spit in his face if he were here, yet your "ifs" and "buts"
are so much insult cast upon his truth. You would not scourge him, but
what
do your doubts do but vex him and put him to shame? If he lies, never
believe him; if he speaks the truth, never doubt him. Then shall ye know
when ye have cast aside your wicked unbelief, that your faith has saved
you,
and ye will go in peace.
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