Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 379
“For I will cleanse their blood that Ihave not cleansed.” Joel 3:21. SOME think that this text has reference to the blood of the persecuted and martyred Israel. God had by terrible judgments avenged Himself of the different nations who had carried His people captive, and according to some expositors, in this verse He threatens to make His vengeance complete. If there is any blood which still cries from the ground, if there are any martyrs whose murders have not been punished upon their persecutors, God vows that He will cleanse their blood which He had not as yet cleansed. We shall however, this morning, take the text in a more simple and I think after a more spiritual sort. It is a great Truth of God which lies at the foundation of the Gospel system, that the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s dear Son, cleans us from all sin. When a man is washed in the sacred laver which is filled with the blood of the Atonement, he is not partially cleansed, but he is thoroughly cleansed. Not so much as the shadow of a spot remains upon the blood-washed. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus.” If that cleansing were partial, it were of not use. If it left but one sin still upon us in the sight of God, it would have no power to save. It is only because when once applied by the Holy Spirit and received by faith it makes a total, and complete cleansing from all past guilt, that it is of any use whatever to the poor trembling conscience of the distressed sinner. Let us lay it down, then, in our own minds as a settled fact which neither our experience nor any of the teachings of many heretics shall make us let go, that he who by faith lays hold on Christ, has his blood cleansed in that same hour, and all his iniquities are put away. But in what light, then, are we to understand the text? For it says, “I will cleanse their blood that I have not cleansed.” Well, this may refer perhaps to the uncalled among God’s elect. They are not as yet cleansed. Their faith has not as yet descended into the sacred pool of blood. They still stand in their iniquities, and in their transgressions, unconscious of their lost estate, and now God gives an absolute promise to the rest of His chosen that they shall in due time be brought in! They shall repent. “A new heart also will I give them, and a right spirit will I put within them, and I will sprinkle pure water upon them and they shall be clean. From all their iniquities and from all their transgressions will I cleanse them.” It is not a matter of doubt as to whether the uncalled as yet shall or shall not be saved. If God has chosen them, He will call them, for whom He did predestinate, “them He also called, and whom He called, them He also justified.” This stands as a part of the Divine Decree, and as an absolute promise uttered by the lips of Divine Sovereignty. “As for the rest of My elect as yet unwashed, as yet unsaved from all their iniquities, I will cleanse their blood which I have not cleansed.” But I think I shall only be speaking the mind of the Spirit, if I say this is not the first meaning of the text. I shall confine myself this morning to two thoughts which I think very naturally arise out of it. There are two senses in which Believers in Christ have blood which as yet has not been cleansed, and to these two senses our text has especial reference. First, there remains still on the minds of some of the regenerate a certain consciousness of sin—their conscience has not been thoroughly purged from dead works. And secondly, it is an undoubted fact, that in the nature even of the regenerate, there still remains the black drop of the old depraved blood which needs to be cleansed away, and which according to this promise shall soon be removed. I. We shall commence with the first sense—GUILT UPON THE CONSCIENCE. The promise is given to Believers who have any guilt still remaining upon their troubled consciences, “I will cleanse their blood that I have not cleansed.” If our faith were what it should be, we would know that there is no condemnation against the man who believes in Christ. If our faith were always simple, and had a clear eye to look alone to the Savior, we would always view ourselves as being, in the sight of God, accepted in the Beloved. But our faith partakes of the frailty of our nature. It is often trembling; it sometimes staggers at the promise, and then in such moods, and in such hours there comes upon the conscience a sense of sin to a greater or less degree. The soul is still justified, but doubts its justification; it is still accepted, but that acceptance is not so clearly read by its eye as to be to it a matter of certainty, and a cause ofjoy. Now, Brothers and Sisters, I think I can soon prove that very many of us have some guilt remaining upon our conscience. Let me ask you in the first place, what is it that makes us doubt our eternal salvation? We have believed in Christ— “Our hope is fixed on nothing less, Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness,” and yet we doubt. We have come to the Cross—we look to it as being all our salvation, and all our desire, yet we are troubled at heart—dark suspicions flit across our soul, and we ask, “If it is so, why am I thus?” Now what does this indicate but that there is some guilt still remaining on our conscience? If we knew ourselves to be what we really are; if we are Believers, guiltless, innocent, pure, clean in every way, do you think we should have any doubt of our salvation? If we could look upon ourselves in Christ as being without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing—and that is what we are if we believe in Him—do you think there would be a shadow of a shade of suspicion as to our eternal salvation? No. It is because the conscience knows some secret stain—because the black fingerprints of sin are not completely washed out, that we fear lest after all sin should involve punishment, and punishment should cast us into Hell. Oh that this blood upon the conscience were cleansed away, and we would never, never doubt again! And then again, let me ask you, are there not times when you think very harshly of God? You think, perhaps, that He deals severely with you; that He will not deliver you out of this seventh trouble; that He will let you sink at last, and perish in the deep waters, where the floods shall overflow you. You come to think of Him, not as a tender Father, but as, to say the least of it, a severe Taskmaster; you come to think that one of these dark days He will shut His eyes of love, withdraw His hand of power, and suspend the sympathies of His heart! Do you suppose you would have any of these thoughts of God if you knew yourself to be perfectly cleansed by Him? No, you would say, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord.” You would be willing to leave everything in His hands, but the dark thought that there is sin in you, and that God is punishing you for that sin—that in that chastisement there is mixed something penal—that in the smiting of the Father’s rod there is something of the severity of the Judge’s hand, betrays the fact that your conscience is not thoroughly cleansed from sin. If it were, you would know that every affliction was but love; that every blow was but another form of a caress; that your troubles were not punishments, but chastisements; not penal inflictions, but the loving deeds of a tender Father who longed to make you perfect like Himself. Still further, why is it that so many of us dare not indulge in close access to our God? We pray, but it is often to a distant God, as to one who stands upon a mountain beyond our reach! How few of us come like a child to his Father, and lay hold on God as One who is near to us by ties of Divine affinity. The most of Christians, I fear, are outer-court worshippers; they stand in the place of the priests, but they never come to stand where the high priest stood, within the veil. Luther was a man who used familiarities with God, and if some of us had heard Luther praying, we would have been shocked—“Oh,” we would have said, “how dare he talk thus with God?” But Luther knew that he was completely justified, that there was no sin on him, and therefore he did not tremble when he stood near to the Holy, the Perfect, and the Just. If I know that there is no sin remaining, but that all has been washed away, why need I fear? I may go the Throne of God and cry, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? Not God, for He has justified, nor Christ, for He has died.” Once let the soul have perfect peace through believing in its perfect purity in Christ, and the nearness of our access will be perfectly wonderful! The boldness of our fellowship will make us look with wonder, and even Christians will be astonished that we dare to indulge in such a holy familiarity with God, and talk so plainly with our Father—with our Friend. There is still guilt upon the conscience of many professors, and it is proved by the fact that they fear to have a near approach to God. How frequently does this lurking evil betray itself in another form! There is a promise before you—an exceedingly great and precious promise. Why do you not lay hold upon it? Why not receive it in all its length and breadth, and call it your own? “Oh,” you say, “but I am so unworthy. How shall I take such a promise? I, so unbelieving, so ungrateful, so unheavenly, how can I think that such a promise is made to me? It is too good, too great for such an one as I am.” Do you not perceive that when you say, “unworthy,” you are acting as though you were under the Covenant of Works, instead of being under the Covenant of Grace? What has your worthiness to do with it, or your unworthiness either? God did not choose you for your worthiness—Christ did not purchase you from your goodness. The Holy Spirit did not call you because of your excellencies, nor will you be saved because of any inherent virtue in you! You betray at once, I say, the sad fact that there is some consciousness of evil still remaining upon you; oh, if your heart knew itself to be wholly purged from dead works, and freed from sin, you could walk at large; if no more a criminal, but absolved, pardoned and acquitted, you have leave to roam throughout all the rooms of your Father’s palace, and to take hold upon all your Father’s riches as His heir, yes—joint-heir with Christ—you would never stagger at the promise because of its greatness, but account it all the more true because its greatness proves that it came from a great God who has great faithfulness, and great power to fulfill! Precious, precious promise, “I will cleanse their blood which I have not cleansed.” I will make your conscience yet so pure of sin that you can take the promise and believe it to be all your own. Yet once more. There is another fact which demonstrates at once that the conscience of some Believers is not totally purged from sin. Why is my Sister yonder afraid to die? Why does my Brother there tremble when he knows that he carries a disease about him which may all of a sudden launch him into eternity? My Brother, if you will probe that fear of yours to the bottom, you will find the old venom of some guilt still upon the conscience! Let us suppose that the promise of the text is fulfilled in you, and that you know today that there is no sin against you in God’s Book—that you feel today that you are perfectly freed from the consequences and the guilt of sin through the Substitution of Christ. I defy you to be afraid of dying after that! The two things could not stand together! Sin is the sting of death, and the strength of sin is the Law. But when sin is removed, what is it but a serpent without its fangs, a thing which a child may play with, and not that a man must tremble at? What? When the dragon’s teeth are broken, and we know it, shall we be afraid? When death is no more the gate of gloom, but the portal of the skies, and we know it, shall we tremble then? God forbid that I should allow the thought! No. Perfectly pardoned, with a conscience recognizing, and rejoicing in that perfect pardon, all fears of death would be impossible! There would even be a longing and a thirsting after death, not that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up in life. We would have a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better! Do not think, my Brothers and Sisters, after the five reasons which I have given, that any of you would be willing to say, “I am guiltless there.” We have guilt, many of us, still upon our conscience, because we at times doubt our salvation. Often we have harsh thoughts of God. We sometimes neglect to approach near to the Mercy Seat. We often tremble to take the promise at the fullest. We are afraid of dying. All these prove that the blood is not entirely cleansed from off the conscience. Having thus proved the necessity of the promise, let us sit still a moment, chew the cud of meditation, put the promise into our mouth, and taste its preciousness. Great God! You will yet by Your Grace take from my conscience, and the conscience of all Your people every stain of sin! And what then, Beloved? What then? Let these thoughts charm you. When once the last stain of sin is removed, then you will never have a doubt; you will triumph in full assurance. Who can doubt when sin is washed away? It shall not be partly day, and partly night with you when this promise is fulfilled. Your night shall be turned into day, and the light of your day shall be as though there were seven suns. You shall sing with Toplady— “My name from the palm of His hands Eternity cannot erase! Impressed on His heart it remains Li marks of indelible Grace.”