Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 1093
“What do you think of the Christ?” Matthew 22:42.
IT was a custom among the Jews before the Paschal Lamb was killed to shut it up for several days for examination. It was at first selected with great care, for it must be “a lamb without blemish, a male of the first year,” and lest at the first choice some blemish should have been overlooked it was continually inspected from day to day. It was meet that the Lamb of God’s Passover should pass through a similar ordeal. It is remarkable that our Savior, during the days which preceded His being offered up for us on Calvary was examined and questioned, both by friends and foes. The sharpest eyes were brought to bear upon Him—eyes made preternaturally keen through the malice of wicked hearts. He passed under the scrutiny of Pharisees, of Herodians, of Sadducees, and of lawyers. They tested Him in all parts and tried Him from all points, yet they found no fault in Him. “They marveled, and left Him, and went their way.” And, like Pilate, they found no fault in Him.
Read the chapter before us in that light and it becomes singularly interesting, as exhibiting the unassailable perfection of our Divine Redeemer. Let us pray that when we are proved and tested we, also, may endure the fiery trial and be found to be pure gold. As they tried our Master, so will they also try us—may we, through His triumphant Grace, endure even to the end. As I looked upon our text in my study, another current of thought passed through my mind. The text stands in a remarkable connection. The chapter which contains it opens with the parable of the wedding feast. The marriage banquet was spread, the guests were invited—they would not come—and therefore special messengers were sent to compel as many as they could find to partake of the feast. Then as to warn ministers in all generations that the greatest hindrances they would ever meet with would arise from the quibbling, critical spirit of mankind, we have in the same chapter a long account of the various cavilers that assailed our Lord.
When we preach the Gospel, men do not repel us point blank by telling us that there is no importance in our message—instead they suggest difficulties, propound frivolous enquiries, or fly off at a tangent upon some other less important topic. They evade the pursuit of the Gospel by plunging into the mists of debate. Like the cuttle-fish, which escapes by clouding the water all around it, so do they avoid the invitations and declarations of the Word of God by raising questions of a secondary character. It was so in Christ’s day. His adversaries met His arguments with quibbles, or with wrangling. It is certainly so now. We cannot get at men—they stave us off, they parry our home thrusts and baffle us by hiding behind the shields of evil questions.
We cannot get close to them—they lie entrenched behind the ramparts of disputation. With other questions they push off the main question and keep far from them the soul-saving Truth of God. The Lord Jesus Christ here teaches His ministers the art of leaping over the sinner’s defenses, dashing into the center of his stronghold and smiting him with the edge of the sword by means of the enquiry—“What do you think of the Christ?” We should deal with matters of disputation as He did—answer them, as far as they are to be answered, with wisdom and prudence. But then He would have us carry the war into the enemy’s country and attack the human conscience with the demand, “What do you think of the Christ?”
This morning I purpose, first, to speak upon questions of the day and then to press home upon you the question of the day—the question of all questions in which life and death are wrapped up.
I. First, a little upon some of the QUESTIONS OF THE DAY, not with any intent of interesting you in them, but rather of calling you somewhat away from them lest they too much engross you. The first question of the day is nearly akin to that which was proposed to our Lord by the Pharisees and the Herodians. It deals with the connection between politics and religion, the vexatious question of Church and State. How far does Caesar’s rule go? Where does it end? And where are we amenable to God alone?
This enquiry, in a very practical shape, presses upon the Dissenters of England. I very largely attribute the partial decline of religious prosperity in some of our churches to the interest which has been taken in the questions which naturally arise out of the unscriptural and adulterous connection at present existing between the Church and the State in this land. We have, each of us, a certain amount of mental power, of time, of energy and no more—and if it is a necessity, as it is a necessity—that every Nonconformist should contend for his rights and liberties and should never rest till perfect religious equality is established in the land—then so much of our strength is taken away from higher and better matters to attend to that which, nevertheless, it is unavoidable that we should consider. It is not possible for us to cease from our efforts to obtain deliverance from the degrading yoke which now burdens us.