New Park Street Pulpit · Sermon No. 247
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, April 10th, 1859.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace l give unto you; not as the world giveth, I give unto you.”—John 14:27.
THE GOSPEL OF JOHN is peculiarly the history of Jesus, the Son of God. Matthew deals with Jesus as the Prince of the house of David; Mark treats of him as the Servant of servants; and Luke views him as the Son of Man; but John, with eagle eye, looks beyond all the clouds of his humanity, and seeing the clear shining of his divinity, writes of him especially as the Son of God, the Word, that in the beginning was with God and was God. It seems but right, then, that since Jesus came from heaven, he should sometimes put both himself and his cause, in contrast with that which is of the earth, earthy. You will find through several chapters wherein our Saviour is addressing his disciples, he continually contrasts himself, his gifts, and his love, with those of the world. He came from heaven that he might fight and wrestle with an evil and a wicked world; that he might rescue his people from it; that he might cleanse the world, and, at last, might present the earth itself to himself, to be the new heaven and the new earth, wherein righteousness should dwell. I say, it seems but right, that in a gospel which particularly views Christ as of heavenly origin, and as very God of very God, that there should frequently be a contrast between Christ and the world, between the kingdom which is from heaven, and the kingdoms of this earth. Now, our text presents us with one contrast between Christ and the world: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you.” He gives after a diviner fashion than the world can ever give, even when its hand is most laden with its gifts.
Now, I shall take my text this morning, and endeavor to talk of it thus—first, viewing it with regard to the peace which Christ gives: he does not give peace as the world gives it. Secondly, I shall take a larger view of the subject, and look upon all the gifts of Christ, and say that, “not as the world giveth, doth he bestow his mercies on us;” and then close with a practical inference from the whole subject.
I. First of all, IN THE MATTER OF PEACE, Christ gives us peace, but not as the world gives it. For, in the first place, the world gives peace in a complimentary style. It was usual among the Orientals, for the wayfarer to say to the person whom he met, “Peace be to you;” and generally, when a house was entered, the benediction of peace was bestowed by every person who stepped across the threshold. These were often but vain and empty expressions of compliment. Those very utterances might proceed from the lips of an enemy. “The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but war was in his heart: his words were softer than oil, yet were they drawn swords.” It is the same with the world at this day. Everyone salutes us in writing with a “Dear sir,” or a “My dear sir,” and concludes “Yours very truly,” and “Yours sincerely.” We call all “friends,” and if we meet but casually we express the utmost anxiety with regard to one another’s health, and we carefully enquire after each other’s families; when perhaps we shall no sooner have passed by the person than we shall forget his existence, and certainly shall entertain no anxious thoughts with regard to his welfare, nor any loving remembrance of him. The world gives very largely when it gives compliments. Oh, what blessings would descend upon all our heads, if the blessings uttered could be blessings bestowed. Even when the “Good bye” is given, which translated means, “God be with you”—if that could be but true, and if God could be with us, in answer to that prayer, so little understood, how rich might we be! But alas! the way of the world is, “Be thou warmed and be thou filled;” but it hath not that which should warm, nor that which should fill. It is a world of words; high-sounding, empty, all-deceiving words. Now, not so, does Christ give. If he says “Peace be with you,” his benediction is most true and full of sweet sincerity. He left his own peace in heaven, that he might give the peace which he enjoyed with his Father, to us in this world of sorrow, for thus he puts it, “My peace I give unto you.” Christ, when he blesses, blesses not in word only, but in deed. The lips of truth cannot promise more than the hands of love will surely give. He gives not in compliment.
Furthermore, even when the world’s wishes of peace are sincere, what are they but mere wishes. If I am met by my most sincere friend, and he wishes to give a benediction, he cannot bestow one. ‘Tis God’s to bless his people with peace. We may bless with the wish but not with the deed. It may be our desire that every mercy should cluster round the head of our friend—that his pillow should be smooth, that his path should be easy, that his heart should be happy, that his end may be peace; but we must leave it with God to fulfill our prayers. If our power were equal to our will, how richly would we bless our friends with the priceless jewel of peace. But Christ says, “Not as the world giveth, give I unto you.” His wishes for us shall be accomplished, and he himself shall work them out. Does he wish for us that we may be sanctified? Lo! he will sanctify us, and present us without spot, or wrinkle, or any such things. Is it his will that we should be with him where he is? It shall be done, and we shall behold his glory and we shall share in it. There was ne’er a wish in Christ’s heart with regard to his people that merely ended in a wish. The wish is but the bow string; the blessing is the arrow shot from it. Christ hath not an empty bow, but his quiver is filled with arrows, and every time he wisheth, he fitteth a blessing on the string and sendeth it to us. Oh rest assured that not, as the world giveth, with the empty wish, the deceitful brook, the empty well doth Christ give to us, but he gives a fullness and a reality in all that he bestows.