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A
Sermon
Published
on Thursday, November 30th, 1911,
DELIVERED BY
C.
H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON
On Thursday Evening, January, 11th, 1866.
(for modern graphical version of the Wordless
Book, click the image or this)
"Wash
me, and I shall be whiter than snow." -- Psalm 51:7 |
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I
DARESAY you have most of you heard of a little book which an old
divine used constantly to study,
and
when his friends wondered what there was in the book, he told them that he
hoped they would all know and understand it, but that there was not single
word in it. When they looked at it, they found that it consisted of only three
leaves; the first was black, the second was red, and the third was pure white.
The old minister used to gaze upon the black leaf to remind him of his sinful
state by nature, upon the red leaf to call to his remembrance the precious
blood of Christ, and upon the white leaf to picture to him the perfect
righteousness which God has given to believers through the atoning sacrifice
of Jesus Christ his Son.
I
want you, dear friends to read this book this evening, and I desire to read it
myself. May God the Holy Spirit graciously help us to do so to our profit!
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I.)
First, LET US LOOK AT THE BLACK LEAF.
There
is something about this in the text, for the person who used this prayer said,
"Wash me," so he was black and needed to be washed; and the
blackness was of such a peculiar kind that a miracle was needed to cleanse it
away, so that the one who had been black would become white, and so white that
he would be "whiter than snow."
If
we consider David's case when he wrote this Psalm, we shall see that he was
very black. He had committed the horrible sin of adultery, which is so
shameful a sin that we can only allude to it with bated breath. It is a sin
which involves much unhappiness to others besides the persons who commit it;
and it is a sin which, although the guilty ones may repent, cannot be undone.
It is altogether a most foul and outrageous crime against God and man, and
they who have committed it do indeed need to be washed.
But
David's sin was all the greater because of the circumstances in which he was
placed. He was like the owner of a great flock, who had no need to take his neighbor's
one ewe lamb when he had so many of his own. The sin in his case
was wholly inexcusable, for he so well knew what a great evil it was. He was a
man who had taken delight in God's law, meditating in it day and night, He
was, therefore, familiar with the commandment which expressly forbad that sin;
so that, when he sinned in this way, he sinned as one does who takes a draught
of poison, not by mistake, but well knowing what will be the consequences of
drinking it. It was willful wickedness on David's part for which there cannot
be the slightest palliation.
Nay,
more; not only did he know the nature of the sin, but he also knew the
sweetness of communion with God, and must have had a clear sense of what it
must have meant for him to lose it. His fellowship with the Most High had been
so close that he was called "the man after God's own heart." How
sweetly has he sung of his delight in the Lord. You know that, in your
happiest moment, when you want to praise the Lord with your whole heart, you
cannot find any better expression than David has left you in his Psalms. How
horrible it is that the man who had been in the third heaven of fellowship
with God should have sinned in this foul fashion.
Besides,
David had received many providential mercies at the Lord's hands. He was but a
shepherd lad, and God took him from feeding his father's flock, and made him
king over Israel. The Lord also delivered him out of the paw of the lion and
out of the paw of the bear, enabled him to overthrow and slay giant Goliath,
and to escape the malice of Saul when he hunted him as a, partridge upon the
mountains. The Lord preserved him from many perils, and at last firmly
established him upon the throne; yet, after all these deliverances and
mercies, this man, so highly favored by God, fell into this gross sin.
Then,
also, it was a further aggravation of David's sin that it was committed
against Uriah. If you read through the lists of David's mighty men, you will
find at the end the name of Uriah the Hittite; he had been with David when he
was outlawed by Saul, he had accompanied his leader in his wanderings, he had
shared his perils and privations, so it was a shameful return on the part of
the king when he stole away the wife of his faithful follower who was at that
very time fighting against the king's enemies. Searching through the whole of
Scripture, or at least through the Old Testament, I do not know where we have
the record of a worse sin committed by one who yet was a true child of God. So
David had good reason to pray to the Lord, "Wash me," for he was
indeed black with a special and peculiar blackness.
But
now, turning from David, let us consider our own blackness in the sight of
God. Is there not, my dear friend, a peculiar blackness about your case as a
sinner before God? I cannot picture it, but I ask you to call it to your
remembrance now that your soul may be humbled on account of it. Perhaps you
are the child of Christian parents, or you were the subject of early religious
impressions; or it may be that you have been in other ways specially favored by God, yet you have sinned against him, sinned against light and knowledge,
sinned against a mother's tears a father's prayers, and a pastor's admonitions
and warnings. You were very ill once, and thought you were going to die, but
the Lord spared your life and restored you to health and strength, yet you
went back to your sin as the dog returns to his vomit, or the sow that was
washed to her wallowing in the mire. Possibly a sudden sense of guilt alarmed
you, so that you could not enjoy your sin, yet you could not break away from
it. You spent your money for that which was not bread, and your labor for
that which did not satisfy you, yet you went on wasting your substance with riotous
living until you came to beggary, but even that did not wean you from your
sin. In the house of God you had many solemn warnings, and you went home again
and again resolving to repent, yet your resolves soon melted away, like the
morning cloud and the early dew, leaving you more hardened than ever. I
remember John B. Gough, at Exeter Hall,, describing himself in his drinking
days as seated upon a wild horse which was hurrying him to his destruction
until a stronger hand than his own seized the reins, pulled the horse down
upon its haunches, and rescued the reckless rider. It was a terrible picture,
yet it was a faithful representation of the conversion of some of us. How we
drove the spurs into that wild horse, and urged it to yet greater speed in its
mad career until, it seemed as if we would even ride over that gracious Being
who was determined to save us! That was sin indeed, not merely against the
dictates of an enlightened conscience, and against the warnings which were
being continually given to us, but it was what the apostle calls treading
under foot the Son of God, counting the blood of the covenant an unholy thing,
and doing despite unto the Spirit of grace.
Let
me, beloved, before I turn away from this black leaf, urge you to study it
diligently, and to try to comprehend the blackness of your heart and the
depravity of your lives. That false peace which results from light thoughts of
sin is the work of Satan; get rid of it at once, if he has wrought it in you.
Do not be afraid to look at your sins, do not shut your eyes to them; for you
to hide your face from them may be your ruin, but for God to hide His face
from them will be your salvation. Look at your sins and meditate upon them
until they even drive you to despair. "What!" says one, "until
they drive me to despair?" Yes; I do not mean that despair which arises
from unbelief, but that self-despair which is so near akin, to confidence in
Christ. The more God enables you to see your emptiness, the more eager will
you be to avail yourself of Christ's fullness. I have always found that, as my
trust in self went up, my trust in Christ went down; and as my trust in self
went down my trust in Christ went up, so I urge you to take an honest view of
your own blackness of heart and life, for that will cause you to pray with
David, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." Weigh yourselves
in the scales of the sanctuary, for they never err in the slightest degree.
You need not exaggerate a single item of your guilt, for just as you are you
will find far too much sin within you if the Holy Spirit will enable you to
see yourselves as you really are.
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II.)
But now we must turn to the second leaf, THE BLOOD-RED LEAF OF THE WORDLESS
BOOK, which brings to our remembrance the precious blood of Christ.
When
the sinner cries, "Wash me," there must be some fount of cleansing
where he can be washed "whiter than snow." So there is, but there is
nothing but the crimson blood of Jesus that can wash out the crimson stain of
sin. What is there about Jesus Christ that makes him able to save all who come
unto God by him? This is a matter upon which Christians ought to mediate much
and often. Try to understand, dear friends, the greatness of the atonement.
Live much under the shadow of the cross. Learn to-
"View
the flowing
Of the Savior's precious blood,
By divine assurance knowing
He has made your peace with God."
Feel
that Christ's blood was shed for you, even for you. Never be satisfied till
you have learned the mystery of the five wounds; never be content till you are
"able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and
depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ which passeth
knowledge."
The
Power of Jesus to cleanse from sin must lie, first, in the greatness of his
person. It is not conceivable that the sufferings of a mere man, however holy
or great he might have been, could have made atonement for the sins of the
whole multitude of the Lord's chosen people. It was because Jesus Christ was
one of the persons in the Divine Trinity, it was because the Son of Mary was
none other than the Son of God, it was because he who lived, and labored, and
suffered and died, and was the great Creator, without whom was not anything
made that was made, that his blood has such efficacy that it can wash the
blackest sinner so clean that they are "whiter than snow." The death
of the best man who ever lived could not make an atonement even for his own
sins, much less could it atone for the guilt of others; but when God himself
"took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of
men," and "humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the
death of the cross," no limit can be set to the value of the atonement
that he made. We hold most firmly the doctrine of particular redemption, that
Christ loved his Church, and gave himself for it; but we do not hold the
doctrine of the limited value of his precious blood. There can be no limit to
Deity, there must be infinite value in the atonement which was offered by him
who is divine. The only limit of the atonement is in its design, and that
design was that Christ should give eternal life to as many as the Father has
given him; but in itself the atonement is sufficient for the salvation of the
whole world, and if the entire race of mankind could be brought to believe in
Jesus, there is enough efficacy in his precious blood to cleanse everyone born
of woman from every sin that all of them have ever committed.
But
the power of the cleansing blood of Jesus must also lie in the intense
sufferings which he endured in making atonement for his people. Never was
there another case like that of our precious Savior. In his merely physical
sufferings there may have been some who have endured as much as he did, for
the human body is only capable of a certain amount of pain and agony, and
others beside our Lord have reached that limit; but there was an element in
his sufferings that, was never present in any other case. The fact of his
dying in the room, and place, and stead of his people, the one great
sacrifice for the whole of his redeemed, makes his death altogether unique, so
that not even the noblest of the noble army of martyrs can share the glory
with him. His mental sufferings also constituted a very vital part of the
atonement, the sufferings of his soul were the very soul of his sufferings. If
you can comprehend the bitterness of his betrayal by one who had been his
follower and friend, and of his desertion by all his disciples, his
arraignment for sedition and blasphemy before creatures whom he had himself
made; if you can realize what it was for him, who did no sin, to be made sin
for us, and to have laid upon him the iniquity of us all; if you can picture
to yourself how he loathed sin and shrank from it, you can form some slight
idea of what his pure nature must have suffered for our sakes. We do not
shrink from sin as Christ did because we are accustomed to it, it was once the
element in which we lived, and moved had our being; but his holy nature shrank
from evil as a sensitive plant recoils from the touch. But the worst of his
sufferings must have been when his Father's wrath was poured out upon him as
he bore what his people deserved to bear, but which now they will never have
to bear.
"The
waves of swelling grief
Did o'er his bosom roll,
And mountains of almighty wrath
Lay heavy on his soul."
For
his Father to have to hide his face from him so that he cried in his agony,
"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" must have been a
veritable hell to him. This was the tremendous drought of wrath which our
Savior drank for us to its last dregs so that our cup might not have one drop
of wrath in it for ever. It must have been a great atonement that was
purchased at so great price.
We
may think of the greatness of Christ's atonement in another way. It must have
been a great atonement which has safely landed such multitudes of sinners in
heaven, and which has saved so many great sinners, and transformed them into
such bright saints. It must be a great atonement which is yet to bring
innumerable myriads into the unity of the faith, and into the glory of the
church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven. It is so great an
atonement, sinner, that if thou wilt trust to it, thou shalt be saved by it
however many and great thy sins may have been. Art thou afraid that the blood
of Christ is not powerful enough to cleanse thee? Dost thou fear that his
atonement cannot bear the weight of such a sinner as thou art? I heard, the
other day, of a foolish women at Plymouth who for a long while, would not go
over the Salhash Bridge because she did not think it was safe. When, at
length, after seeing the enormous traffic that passed safely over the bridge,
she was induced to trust herself to it, she trembled greatly all the time, and
was not easy in her mind until she was off it. Of course, everybody laughed at
her for thinking that such a ponderous structure could not bear her little
weight. There may be some sinner, in this building, who is afraid that the
great bridge which eternal mercy has constructed, at infinite cost, across the
gulf which separates us from God, is not strong enough to bear his weight. If
so, let me assure him that across that bridge of Christ's atoning sacrifice
millions of sinners, as vile and foul as he is, have safely passed, and the
bridge has not even trembled beneath their weight, nor has any single part of
it ever strained or displaced. My poor fearful friend, your anxiety lest the
great bridge of mercy should not be able to bear your weight reminds me of the
fable of the gnat that settled on the bull's ear, and then was concerned lest
the powerful beast should be incommoded by his enormous weight. It is well
that you should have a vivid realization of the weight of your sins, but at
the same time you should also realize that Jesus Christ, by virtue off his
great atonement, is not only able to bear the weight of your sins, but he can
also carry - indeed, he has already carried upon his shoulders the sins of all
who shall believe in him right to the end of time; and he has borne those sins
away
into the land of forgetfulness, where they shall not be remembered or
recovered for ever. So efficacious is the blood of the everlasting covenant
that even you, black as you are, may pray, with David, "Wash me, and I
shall be whiter than snow."
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III.)
This brings me to THE WHITE LEAF OF THE WORDLESS BOOK, which is just as full
of instruction as either the black leaf or the red one: "Wash me, and I
shalI be whiter than snow."
What
a beautiful sight it was, this morning, when we looked out, and saw the ground
all covered with snow! The trees were all robed in silver; yet it is almost an
insult to the snow to compare it to silver, for silver at its brightest is not
worthy to be compared with the marvelous splendor that was to be seen
wherever the trees appeared adorned with beautiful festoons above the earth
which was robed in its pure white mantle. If we had taken a piece of what we
call white paper, and laid it down upon the surface of newly-fallen snow, it
would have seemed quite begrimed in comparison with the spotless snow. This
morning's scene at once called the text to my mind: "Wash me, and I shall
be whiter than snow." You, 0 black sinner, if you believe in Jesus, shall
not only be washed in his precious blood until you become tolerably clean, but
you shall be made white, you shall be "whiter than snow." When we
have gazed upon the pure whiteness of the snow before it has become defiled,
it has seemed as though there could be nothing whiter. I know that, when I
have been among the Alps, and have for hours looked upon the dazzling
whiteness of the snow, I have been almost blinded by it. If the snow were to
lie long upon the ground, and if the whole earth were to be covered with it,
we should soon all be blind. The eyes of man have suffered with his soul
through sin, and just as our soul would be unable to bear a sight of the
unveiled purity of God, our eyes cannot endure to look upon the wondrous purity
of the snow. Yet the sinner, black through sin, when brought under the
cleansing power of the blood of Jesus, becomes "whiter than snow."
Now,
how can a sinner be made "whiter than snow"? Well, first of all,
there is a permanence about the whiteness of a blood-washed sinner which there
is not about the snow. The snow that fell this morning was much of it anything
but white this afternoon. Where the thaw had begun to work, it looked yellow
even where no foot of man had trodden upon it; and as for the snow in the
streets of London, you know how soon its whiteness disappears. But there is no
fear that the whiteness which God gives to a sinner will ever depart from him;
the robe of Christ's righteousness which is cast around him is permanently
white.
"This
spotless robe the same appears
When ruin'd nature sinks in years
No age can change its glorious hue,
The robe of Christ is ever new."
It
is always "whiter than snow." Some of you have to live in smoky,
grimy London, but the smoke and the grime cannot discolor the spotless robe
of Christ's righteousness. In yourselves, you are stained with sin; but when
you stand before God, clothed in the righteousness of Christ, the stains of
sin are all gone. David in himself was black and foul when he prayed the
prayer of our text, but clothed in the righteousness of Christ he was white
and clean. The believer in Christ is as pure in God's sight at one time as he
is at another. He does not look upon the varying purity of our sanctification
as our ground of acceptance with him; but he looks upon the matchless and
immutable purity of the person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ, and he
accepts us in Christ, and not because of what we are in ourselves. Hence, when
we are once " accepted in the Beloved," we are permanently accepted;
and being accepted in him, we are "whiter than snow."
Further,
the whiteness of snow is, after all, only created whiteness. It is something
which God has made, yet it has not the purity which appertains to God himself;
but the righteousness which God gives to the believer is a divine
righteousness, as Paul says, "He hath made him to be sin for us, who knew
no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. " And
remember that this is true of the very sinner who before was so black that he
had to cry to God, "Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow." There
may be one who came into this building black as night through sin; but if he
is enabled now, by grace, to trust in Jesus, his precious blood shall at once
cleanse him so completely that he shall be "whiter than snow."
Justification is not a work of degrees; it does a progress from one stage to
another, but it is the work of a moment and it is complete. God's great gift
of eternal life is in a moment, and you may not be able to discern the exact
moment when it is bestowed. Yet you may know even that; for, as soon as you
believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, you are born of God, you have passed from
death unto life, you are saved, and to all eternity. The act of faith is a
very simple thing, but it is the most God-glorifying act that a man can
perform. Though there is no merit in faith, yet faith is a most ennobling
grace, and Christ puts a high honor upon it when he says, "Thy faith
hath saved thee; go in peace." Christ puts the crown of salvation upon
the head of faith, yet faith will never wear it herself, but lays it at the
feet of Jesus, and gives him all the honor and glory.
There
may be one in this place who is afraid to think that Christ will save him My
dear friend, do my Master the honor to believe that there are no depths of
sin into which you may have gone which are beyond his reach. Believe that
there is no sin that is too black to be washed away by the precious blood of
Christ, for he has said, "All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be
forgiven unto men," and " all manner of sin " must include
yours. It is the very greatness of God's mercy that sometimes staggers a
sinner. Let me use a homely simile to illustrate my meaning. Suppose you are
sitting at your table, carving the joint for dinner, and suppose your dog is
under the table, hoping to get a bone or a piece of gristle for his portion.
Now, if you were to set the dish with the whole joint on it down on the floor,
he would probably be afraid to touch it lest he should get a cut of the whip;
he would know that a dog does not deserve such a dinner as that, and that is
just your difficulty, poor sinner, you know that you do not deserve such grace
as God delights to give. But the fact that it is of grace shuts out the
question of merit altogether. "By grace are ye saved through faith; and
that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God." God's gifts are like
himself, immeasurably great. Perhaps some of you think you would be content
with crumbs or bones from God's table. Well, if he were to give me a few
crumbs or a little broken meat, I would be grateful for even that, but it
would not satisfy me; but when he says to me, "Thou art my son, I have
adopted thee into my family, and thou shall go no more out for ever;" I
do not agree with you that it is too good to be true. It may be too good for
you but it is not too good for God; he gives as only he can give. If I were in
great need, and obtained access to the Queen, and after laying my case before
her, she said to me, " I feel a very deep interest in your case, here is
a penny for you," I should be quite sure that I had not seen the Queen,
but that some lady's maid or servant had been making a fool of me. Oh, no! the
Queen gives as Queen, and God gives as God; so that the greatness of his gift,
instead of staggering us, should only assure us that it is genuine, and that
it comes from God. Richard Baxter wisely said, "O Lord, it must be great
mercy or no mercy, for little mercy is of no use to me!" So, sinner, go
to the great God, with your great sin, and ask for great grace that you may be
washed in the great fountain filled with the blood of the great sacrifice, and
you shalt have the great salvation which Christ has procured, and for it you
shall ascribe great praise for ever and ever to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
God grant that it may be so, for Jesus' sake! Amen.
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