“And the lord said unto the servant, Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may filled.” Luke xiv. 23.
1 The Parable of the Great Supper, from which these words are taken, is found also in St. Matthew’s Gospel, with this especial addition, that of the guests thus brought in by force, one was found not having on a wedding garment, who in consequence was not simply dismissed as unworthy, but condemned to punishment. “Friend, how camest thou in hither, not having a wedding garment? and he was speechless. Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth; for many are called but few are chosen.” [Matt. xxii. 12-14.] “Friend, how camest thou in hither?” You may suppose he might have answered, “I was forced in;” but our Saviour says, “And he was speechless,” and pronounces his everlasting punishment.
Surely, there is something very awful and startling in the doctrine thus contained in the Parable. It would seem from thence that we are compelled to accept of religious advantages, for the use of which we are answerable, for the misuse of which we shall be condemned. We are compelled to become Christians, yet this compulsion is not taken into account when the day of reckoning comes. The same doctrine is implied in the parable of the talents. The servant who hid his lord’s talent, seems to have had some such thoughts about fairness and justice, as the natural man so often indulges in now,—some idea of being quits and even with him, if he left his gift alone,—as if he could wash his hands (as it is said) of the whole business, and venture neither the gain nor the loss; feeling that it was a delicate matter that was put upon him, that there was great risk of failing, that his lord was an austere kind of man, hard to please, having his own views of right and duty, and unreasonable; and that, consequently, it was safest to keep aloof, to have no cares on any score, and so escape the danger. But here again this selfish reasoner is met by the same stern necessity, so to call it. The law of his nature is urged upon him, by the Creator of that law; a sort of uncontrollable destiny is represented as encompassing him; the destiny of accountableness, the fate of being free, the unalienable prerogative of choosing between life and death, the inevitable prospect of heaven and hell. “Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee, thou wicked servant.” [Luke xix. 22.] — “Cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness.” [Matt. xxv. 30.]
And so again of Judas our Lord says, “Woe unto that man by whom the Son or man is betrayed. It had been good for that man if he had not been born.” Yet he was born, he was suffered to betray, and he was condemned.
The same is the doctrine of the Old Testament; as, for example, in the memorable words in the prophet Ezekiel, in which Almighty God says to the Israelites, “That which cometh into your mind shall not be at all, that ye say, We will be as the heathen, as the families of the countries, to serve wood and stone; As I live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand, and with a stretched out arm, and with fury poured out, will I rule over you … And I will cause you to pass under the rod, and I will bring you into the bond of the covenant.” [Ez. xx. 32-37.]
Now, before proceeding to observe upon this very solemn and certain truth (certain if Scripture is true), I would entreat you to consider who it is who has propounded it in the parable in question. It is our Lord Christ. Here, as in other places, He has not left to His servants,—He has taken upon Himself (what may be called) the responsibility, I might even say the odium, of declaring startling doctrines. Consider then His words and works, as displayed in the Gospels. Is He not the author of a religion which we every day hear called, and most truly called, mild, beneficent, charitable, and cheering? Is not His own character, as the common voice of all men proclaims, most meek, gentle, considerate, and loving? Can any one read the history of His life and death without being himself convinced of the truth of this universal judgment? much more, can any one in any degree enter into the depths of the gracious doctrine of the Atonement, His expiation of sin on the Cross, without possessing a clear assurance that there is nothing in the whole world that can be done for us which He has not done and will not do? Yet He it is who leaves us under this bond. By His sighs and tears then, by His toilsome wanderings, by His earnest speeches, by His agony and death, by all He has done, all He has suffered, He seems to entreat us to have confidence in Him; He condescends to entreat us to take on trust the truth and the equity of His words, when He declares that we are compelled to receive God’s mercies, yet punished for the misuse of them.