Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 2161
“The centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not worthy that You should come under my roof: but speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed.” Matthew 8:8.
THIS centurion was a worthy man from the human point of view, but he called himself unworthy when he turned towards our Lord. He was so excellent a man that the elders of the Jews, who were by no means partial to Roman soldiers, pleaded with Jesus that he was worthy. Had he been personally there, he would have repudiated their plea and he did so by the second party of friends whom he sent to our Lord. As one set of friends had said, “He is worthy,” another set of friends was bid to say, in his name, “Lord, I am not worthy.” The worthiest men in the world do not think themselves worthy—while the most unworthy people are generally those who boast of their own worthiness and, possibly, of their own perfection.
We should not have wondered had this man been proud, for he was one of the conquering race and the representative of a tyrannical power. If he were not a very great officer, but only the captain of a hundred men, yet it is not unusual for petty officers to be more haughty than their superiors. If a man is placed in a very high and responsible position, he is frequently sobered by his responsibilities—but a mere jack-in-office is usually greater than the emperor himself! However, this centurion was a man of gentle mold and said of himself, “I am not worthy.” He might have been proud of his popularity among the Jews. Few can bear to be surrounded with an atmosphere of esteem without beginning to esteem themselves much too highly.
He had built a synagogue for the Jews. That is a good thing to do, but it is very possible to build a synagogue and to become a great man in one’s own opinion—and stand several courses of bricks higher in pride. Not so, however, this good man who had built a synagogue, but did not presume upon the greatness of his own generosity. He never mentioned it, but said, “I am not worthy that You should come under my roof.” He was a man used to command. He says to this man, “Go, and he goes. And to another, come, and he comes.” They that are known to be obeyed are apt to hold themselves at a high valuation—but this centurion had not fallen into the very common fault. He watched carefully over the sickness of his young servant and was earnest that he might be healed. He was a tender master as well as a liberal neighbor.
If we wished to pick out a truly worthy man, we need not go further than this Roman soldier, or we might fare worse and yet he said, “Lord, I am not worthy.” Further, note that he did not say, “Lord, the room in which my servant sleeps is not worthy of You—and it is not right that You should climb to the attic where the boy lies sick.” He said, “I am not worthy that You should come under my roof—not even into the best parlor, or the drawing room. It is my house and being such, it is the abode of one who has not dared to seek a personal interview with You and I judge it to be altogether unfit for Your entertainment. He was fearful of troubling the Lord and felt that to bring Him through the streets to his door was more than he could think of for a moment, when a word would suffice to work the miracle he sought.
Beloved Friends, my point this morning is this—I would call your attention to the happy blending of this beautiful humbleness with an extraordinary degree of faith. In his confession of sin he is unsparing—“Lord I am not worthy that You should come under my roof.” But in his confession of faith he is equally clear. “Speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed.” It is a kind of vulgar error that a lowly esteem of ourselves must be connected with a very great diffidence towards Christ. I call it a vulgar error, for it is an error both common and baseless. The fact is that high thoughts of self go with low thoughts of Christ—and well they may, for they are birds of a feather. But low thoughts of self should always be associated with high thoughts of Christ—for they are both products of the Spirit of God and they help each other.
Our unworthiness is a foil to the brightness of our Lord’s infinite Grace. We sink deep in humility, but soar high in assurance. As we decrease, Christ increases. To make this point clear, I shall say, first of all, that a sense of unworthiness is very desirable and commendable. But secondly, that a sense of unworthiness can be very wrongly used and can even be made the occasion of grave sin. Then, thirdly, I shall add that a sense of unworthiness finds a fit companion in a strong faith in Christ. Of this the text supplies us with an instance. May the Holy Spirit help our meditations and make them truly profitable!
I. First, then, A SENSE OF UNWORTHINESS IS VERY DESIRABLE AND COMMENDABLE. Some of you are destitute of it. I dare say you think it a mean and miserable thing. You suppose it would injure your manliness, lower your self-respect and dampen your courage. Dear Friends, the manliness which feeds on sin is a poisonous fungus which grows out of the rottenness of a corrupt heart. May it be taken away from us! Any condition of mind which is founded on a falsehood must be an evil one—it is a bubble blown by ignorant conceit. Let us not desire more self-respect, manliness, or courage than will be consistent with the truth of things.