Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 951
Delivered on Lord’s-Day Morning, September 18, 1870
“The officers answered, Never man spoke like this Man.” John 7:46.
THE chief priests and Pharisees sent officers to lay hold upon the Savior lest His preaching should altogether overthrow their power. While the constables who had mingled with the throng were waiting for an opportunity of arresting the Lord Jesus, they themselves were arrested by His earnest eloquence. They could not take Him, for He had fairly taken them, and when they came back without a prisoner, they gave their reason for not having captured Him in these memorable words, “Never man spoke like this Man.”
Two or three remarks as a preface to our discourse. It is a sure sign of a falling Church when its leaders call in the aid of the secular arm. The rule of the Scribes and Pharisees must have been weakness, itself, when it needed to wield the truncheon of the civil magistrate as its only sufficient argument against its antagonist. That Church which has been supported by bayonets, is in all probability, not far off its demise. Any Church which long collects its tithes and its offerings by the hand of the police, and by legal process and distraint, is also, depend upon it, none too strong.
The Church which is unable to maintain itself by spiritual power is dying, if not dead. Whenever we think of calling in an arm of flesh to defend the faith, we may very seriously question whether we have not made a mistake, and whether that which can be supported by the sword must not greatly differ from the Savior’s kingdom, of which He said, “My kingdom is not of this world, else would My servants fight.”
The more a man leans on a big staff the more sure are you that he is feeble. In proportion as Churches rely on Acts of Parliament, human prestige, and legal authority—in that very degree they show their weakness. Call in the sheriffs officer, and you have virtually called in the gravedigger! In this respect it is peculiarly true, “All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.” A Church is buried by the State, and not supported, when it draws its sustenance from forced tithes and legalized exactions.
Observe, next, that in the end the spiritual power will always baffle the temporal. The officers are fully armed and quite able to complete the arrest of the Preacher. He has no weapons with which to oppose them. He stands unarmed amid the throng—probably none of His disciples would lift a finger to defend Him—or if they did, He would bid them put up their sword into its sheath. And yet the officers cannot seize the non-resistant Preacher. What stays their hands? It has come to a combat between body and mind, and mind prevails.
The eloquent tongue is matched against the two-edged sword, and it has won the day. No fears or qualms of conscience hampered the constables and yet they could not lay their hands on Him. They were chained to the spot where they stood—spellbound by the mystic power of His speech. His very tones fascinated them! The discourse which He poured forth so fluently held them fast as His willing captives. It has always been so—the spiritual has conquered the physical. Though at first it seemed an unequal conflict, yet in the long run the elder has served the younger.
The club of Cain may lay Abel level with the dust, but it does not silence him—from the ground the blood of Abel continues still to cry. Martyrs may be consigned to prison, and dragged from prison to the stake—so that to all appearance a full end is made of the good men—but “even in their ashes live their wonted fires.” At the stake they find a platform with a boundless auditory, and from the grave their teaching cries with louder voice than from the pulpit.
Like seeds sown in the earth they spring up and multiply themselves. Others arise to bear the same witness, and if need be to seal it in the same fashion. As Pharaoh’s mighty hosts could not combat with the hail and the lightning which plagued the fields of Zoan, and as all their chivalry could not put to flight the darkness that might be felt, even so when God sends His Truth with power upon a land, battleaxe and buckler are vain in the opposers’ hands. Our appointed weapons of attack are not carnal, neither can they be withstood by shield or armor. Our bowstrings cannot be broken, or
the edge of our sword blunted. Let but the Lord furnish His ministers, as he did at Pentecost, with wondrous Words instead of shields, and spears, and swords—and these weapons of the holy war will prove themselves to be irresistible.
Fight on, O Preacher! Tell forth the story of the Cross! Defy opposition and laugh persecution to scorn, for, like your Master, you shall, as His servant, ascend above all your enemies, lead your captivity captive, and scatter good gifts among the sons of men! Note again that God can get testimonies to the majesty of His Son from the most unlikely places. I do not know who these constables may have been, or from what class of men they were drawn, but generally the civil authorities do not employ the most refined and intellectual persons to act as officers.