The Face of Jesus Christ

Archibald Brown
East London Tabernacle; August 8, 1875
 

"The face of Christ!" 2 Corinthians 4:6

ALTHOUGH I have selected these words for our meditation this morning, I have no intention of dwelling on them as they stand in connection with the previous part of the verse. I have chosen them simply because they express the subject to which I desire to lead all your thoughts for a short while, namely, the face of Jesus Christ. I shall, therefore, take the liberty of detaching these words altogether from the context, and only seek to show you the face of our Savior as we have it described in Scripture.

It is only natural that the face of loved ones should be treasured up in the casket of our memory, and I doubt not that in every heart present there is a mirror in which, at any time, some well-known, well-loved, and well-remembered countenance may be seen reflected. It is by the face that we are known to each other, and by the face that we distinguish our different friends. It is through the window of the countenance that the inward man looks forth—the soul that dwells within; and it is in the face, through the glance of the eye, and the expression of the whole, that, in some measure, we are enabled to judge of the nature and the spirit of the resident within. Do you ever think of anyone apart from his countenance? Yes, could you (if you were to try), separate the countenance from the person in your thoughts? If I call to mind a friend it means that I call to mind his face, and if I think of anyone I must think of that one by his countenance.

You will have observed, long before this, that it is the face which lingers longest in the memory. Let years pass by and you will find that many of the etceteras become forgotten. It may be that even the figure becomes dim and indistinct, and the tone of the voice all but forgotten; but what is it that looms through the distance and looks into your eyes this morning? Is not it the face?

Why, you orphans that are here may not remember much about your mother's form, nor could you perhaps, to save your life, call to mind one dress she ever wore; but are there not moments when, all of a sudden, it seems to you as if a face and nothing else, were looking down into your own? It is hers. This it is which time has been unable to efface from memory's tablet; the outline of that countenance lingers while all else has faded.

Well, then, let me ask you, is it not only natural that the face of Jesus Christ should be an object of deepest interest to those of us who are his? Very little is, after all, known about it. We have all seen photographs that profess to be likenesses of our Lord; but if you are in any way one with the speaker you have never seen such a likeness of Christ but you have shrunk from it and said, 'No, that is not he.' You have felt there was something lacking either in the outline or else in the expression.

'The face of Jesus Christ!' I suppose each one has his own ideal Christ. As you think of him he appears with the face your imagination loves to give him. He looks upon you with the countenance you feel he had, and I gaze into a face that my imagination has associated with his lovely name. The faces may not be identical; that matters not. To both of us it is the face of Jesus—our Jesus—that rises up before our wondering eyes. What a blessing it is that, if we do not know much about the actual outline of his face, there are many things that we do know concerning it, and I want, this morning, to turn a few lights of Scripture on the lovely face of Jesus Christ. Let us see what is said about his countenance.

I observe, at the very outset, that the face of Jesus was a sad face. You will find this in Isaiah 52:14, 'His visage was so marred more than any man.' This does not in any way militate against the fact of his being 'fairer than the children of men'. A sad face is not of necessity devoid of beauty. Has not grief its beauty, as well as joy and gladness their loveliness? I can never believe anything else than that Christ's face was beautiful, because it is not, after all, the outline of a face that gives it beauty. There is such a thing as a handsome face that is in not at all a beautiful face. The beauty of a countenance is the expression that shines in it. The very plainest of faces may possess a peculiar charm through a spirit of love radiating every feature. I am certain that the countenance of him whose lips were never compressed in unholy anger, whose brow was never knit by hateful temper, and whose holy soul was never ruffled by a sinful thought, must have been one that had a loveliness all its own.

Yet this beautiful face was, as we have noticed from this text, a sad one. Think of the sorrow, care, grief, fastings, watchings, anxieties, which this man of Nazareth had. Do you think that anyone could be, as he was, a man of sorrows and grief's acquaintance, and not bear some marks of it upon his face?

Why, your little trials have left their impress on your brow. No one can take grief into his house as a lodger, without finding that it will very soon put its trademark on the face; and when care sits under the curls, it soon silvers them through.

Remember, too, that Jesus was not a man who only sometimes had a season of sorrow; he was 'a man of sorrows', and though I read over and over again of his weeping, I find no record that he laughed. I know this—that his countenance became so careworn and haggard that he looked twenty years older than he was, for, when but thirty, the Jews, guessing his age, said, 'You are not yet fifty years old.'

Look into this sad face of Jesus Christ, for there are lessons to be gleaned from it. Let me look into his face of grief until I learn to bear my sorrows and my cares aright.

Am I speaking to one this morning who is almost ready to say in the bitterness of his soul, 'I am more troubled than any man?'? Is there anyone in this morning's congregation who is ready to exclaim, 'My griefs are more than I can bear, and my sorrows they are crushing me'? Go, get close to Christ and look into his face. Go, mark the furrows that the ploughshare of mental anguish left on his peerless brow. Go, look into those sad eyes of his, and when you have had a little communion with the man of sorrows and grief's acquaintance, I believe you will drink in an inspiration to bear your trials which you never had before. Just as the light of the glowworm dies away before the glare of the sun--so shall our griefs and heartbreakings be all dazzled into invisibility before the scorching blaze of his unrivaled sufferings!

Let us go a step farther and notice that the face of Jesus Christ was a face full of purpose and indicative of force of character. This we gather from Luke 9:51. Let us turn this second scriptural light upon the face of Jesus Christ. 'And it came to pass, when the time was come that he should be received up, he steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem.' Christ's character was no weak one. I fear that very often people confound spirituality with stupidity, and a higher Christian life with an utter lack of all manhood. Christ's character was grand as well as gentle. I confess that very often my soul has felt thoroughly disgusted, and recoiled from certain exhibitions of so-called piety. I have seen men out of whom all manliness seemed to have evaporated, and when they have reduced themselves to something little better than a jelly—then they are accounted wonderfully spiritual. I never find that Christ's character was one of weakness. There was power, force, consecration in it. Oh, let us look at this sad face lit up with a holy purpose, as he steadfastly sets it towards Jerusalem.

You will observe from the context that there could be no question about the firmness of Christ's purpose, for, when the Samaritans saw him, they were able to read his intentions by his looks. For, still looking at the ninth chapter of Luke, and the fifty-second verse, you read that Christ sent messengers ahead; and they went, and entered into a village of the Samaritans, to make ready for him. And they did not receive him, because he steadfastly set his face to to Jerusalem. The Samaritans saw that there was such purpose in Christ to press forward in his journey that they said, 'Well, as he is so determined to go to Jerusalem, we will not entertain him here, because we have no dealings with the Jews.' Christ's was not a character devoid of force and determination. He meant to go to Jerusalem, and his intention was written on his brow.

Oh, how wonderfully did Christ in his own life carry out the injunctions he gave to his disciples in this ninth chapter of Luke. He was full of holy purpose when he said, 'No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.' Christ had his own hand on the plough. He knew what going to Jerusalem meant. He could read his future history there. He knew that just outside Jerusalem there was a garden of Gethsemane; he knew it, but he steadfastly set his face to go there. He knew that in Jerusalem there was Pilate's hall, and that there he would be scourged; he knew it, but he steadfastly set his face to go there. Christ knew all about Golgotha. He saw the cross beforehand, and he could anticipate the throbs and throes of anguish which he would there endure. And yet with Gethsemane and the flogging and the spitting, and with Golgotha, and all its horrors, staring him in the face, I read, 'He steadfastly set his face to go.' Oh, the wondrous consecration of Jesus Christ! How early did it shine in his life! 'Don't you know that I must be about my Father's business', was the language of the lad of twelve; and now, just six months before his crucifixion, he seems almost like the war-horse that Job describes—smelling the battle from afar, and pawing in the valley, eager to dash into the fray. In the same way, Christ hears the sound of Calvary's battle afar off. Does his heart quail? Does he turn his back towards his sorrows? No; 'He steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem.'

Oh, children of God, I would that we had something more of the face of Jesus Christ in this matter! Do not for a moment think that to be a Christian means the melting away of all manliness. Far from it! The Christian ought to be the very highest type of man, and while we would emulate all the gentleness, all the love, and all the forbearance of our blessed Savior--we would also breathe this prayer to him, and say, 'With your gentleness give me your greatness; and with your patience give me your holy impetuosity for the Father's glory; and with all your meekness give me your boundless spirit of determined purpose. May I steadfastly set my face towards the path of duty marked out for me, to whatever it may lead.'

Am I speaking to some here this morning whose hearts are beginning to quail? You know which way your path tends, and, as you look ahead, you can see that, in all probability, there is a Gethsemane for you in the future. You can see that by professing Christ there will be ignominy and shame yonder. What will you do? I tell you, go and look into the face of Jesus Christ, and that will nerve you with new power! Go and see Christ just before his baptism into sorrow and suffering, and as you hear him say, 'I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened until it is accomplished', go forward to bear your cares and sorrows aright; and, when you look into that face so steadfastly set to go towards Jerusalem, ask God to give you also an unswerving spirit in treading the path of divine direction.

But notice, next, that the face of Jesus Christ was a patient face. We have seen that it was a sad face, and a face full of purpose. Now let us look at it in a fresh light of Scripture. In Isaiah 50:6 I read, 'I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to those who plucked off the hair; I hid not my face from shame and spitting.' And if you turn to Matthew 26:67, you read, 'Then they spit in his face and buffeted him.' Ah, we saw his face as he was going up to Jerusalem; now we get a glimpse of that same face in Jerusalem.

Oh, mark him! I would that I had the power to make you see him. There is the Son of God, with that dear face so full of purpose, now in the high priest's palace. Do you see him as he sits there, in conscious dignity, looking at the riff-raff and the rabble round about him? Do you mark now how they begin to make sport of the Son of God? Can you see how one after another comes in front of him, and, with a laugh, deliberately spits in that blessed countenance? O heavens, be astounded! O earth, be amazed! O sons of men, be dumbfounded! Here is the incarnate God being spat upon, and here is the face of Deity defiled with human spittle! And, as if that outrage on the divine countenance were not enough, Luke tells us that 'when they had blindfolded him they struck him on the face'. Oh, do you see that face—how it is swollen now with blows? Do you mark how it is bruised with strokes, and how defiled with shameful insult? Did you ever see such an patient countenance as that?

Oh let us go and gaze into that face and learn a lesson. It may be, dear friend, that you think you have been insulted by someone, and how angry you have been about it. Someone said an unkind thing about you, and it cut you to the very quick. Ah, how little grace you had to bear it. It seemed to you as if someone were spitting in the face of your character; and how your soul revolted against it; your lips uttered indignant protests.

Oh, let us go to Christ and look again upon his face. Let us mark all the details of his ignominy and his wondrous patience under boundless insult, until we blush to think we were unable to bear so little shame for him.

Oh, young man, you are a laughing-stock in the workshop, are you, and the butt of all the sarcasm of would-be wits! Young sister, you know what it is, perhaps, in the workroom, to suffer ridicule from morning to night. Are either of you growing down-hearted about it? If so, go into the palace of the high priest, and look into the patient face of Jesus Christ; and, as you gaze on that countenance, you will say, 'All hail, reproach, and welcome shame!' Yes, you will find that Christ can transform even ignominy into glory, and shame into highest honor, when it is endured for his sake.

But this same face was a face shrouded in death. You get this in John 20:7, 'And the napkin that was about his head was not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped together in a place by itself.' We learn from this, that that dear patient face of Jesus Christ had been wrapped all round with a napkin and hidden in death.

Let me ask you to come and view the sight. You must come into the garden, and make your way into the sepulcher. The Roman soldiers will not stop us; we need not be afraid of them. Go through their ranks; move the stone on one side; come in. Ah, there he lies. What a perfect hush there is in the tomb! How still it is! Do you see him lying there at full length upon his back? But where is his face? It is hidden; the napkin is round about it. Shall we be bold enough just to raise its folds and look behind the covering. Yes, let us do it.

Ah, there is that countenance. There is the same one we saw looking so sad. There is that same countenance that was all on fire with holy purpose and devotion. There is that same face still bearing the marks of the blows and the buffetings that it received. But how comes it to be so still in death? We must retrace our steps a little while, and just tell you how his countenance came like that.

After he had been patient in the high priest's palace and in Pilate's hall, he was taken, you will remember, to the place called Calvary. Will you just look at the face of Jesus Christ, now hanging on that cross? It is just beneath that long board on which is written in Hebrew, Greek and Latin, 'This is Jesus the King of the Jews.'

Ah, that face has other marks on it now than any I have ever seen before, for there are blood-drops trickling down, caused by that thorny crown pressed so tightly on the brow. Look, as in that holy face the scribes and high priests fling their taunts. Fouler than the spittle that came from the mouth of a Roman soldier, are the jeers flaunted in the face of the dying Lamb of Judah. 'If you are the Son of God, save yourself.' Do you tell me that there was no beauty in that face then?

Go and ask the dying thief what he thought of it. I often wonder how that face looked in his eyes when, himself dying fast, he turned round, and in that countenance saw something that just drew out all the trust of his heart as he said 'Lord'—ah, there must have been a look of divinity even then; 'Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.'

And see now that face of Christ as there is a convulsion passing over it. His heart is breaking. Listen as that cry goes from those blanched lips, 'Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?' 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' And he bows his head in death. Christ died. It is death that has put its stamp upon that face. That is why it is hidden with the napkin.

Oh, beloved, let us come and look into the shrouded face of Jesus Christ, and learn how horrid a thing sin is, for sin killed him! Let us look into that shrouded face of Jesus Christ, and learn our perfect acquittal from all condemnation. There is our punishment. Let us look into that death-stamped face of Jesus Christ, and learn what love can do, for it was love stronger than death.

But we must turn a fifth light of Scripture upon the face of Jesus Christ; and I would now ask you to look at his glorified face. Read in Revelation 1:13-16, "Among the lampstands was someone "like a son of man," dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance!"

Ah, there is the face of Jesus Christ! Oh, how different from when we saw it last, shrouded in death and white as the driven snow! How has this come to pass? Why, a holy angel came and rolled back the stone, and that sleeper awoke, and he who was dead came forth; and after tarrying a little while with his disciples, he took that same dear face of his into Heaven with him. He rose from the hills of Bethany, the disciples watching him until the clouds took him out of their sight, And now,

There the blessed man, my Savior sits;
The God! how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds!

That face of his—it shines like the sun now. I do not wonder that we read that there is no sun yonder, for the Lamb is the light thereof. It only needs Christ's face to light up all Heaven. What is the bliss of the glorified? That they walk in the light of his countenance. Ah, blessed Jesus, you did have an patient face on earth for me; and you halt now a glorified face, and that for me too, for you ever live to make intercession. Oh, get up in thought to the hills of light, and enter into glory-land, if but for a moment, and take your stand before the throne, and look at him who once hung upon the tree for you. Gaze into his face though its shining overpowers you, and sing,

His head, the dear majestic head,
That cruel thorns did wound,
See what immortal glories shine
And circle it around!

This is a beautiful light of Scripture on the face of a glorified Jesus.

Once more. We could not clear ourselves of responsibility unless we dwelt, if only for a moment, on another point. I want you to look at the face of Jesus Christ as the terror of the ungodly. In Revelation 6:15, 16, you read these words, "And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains, and said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sits on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb!"

Ah, it is the face of Jesus Christ in judgment that drives all the pride and boasting out of these great men and mighty ones.

O you nobles and you high ones, where is your daring now? Where now be your deeds of boldness? What have your big vaunting words come to? You proud infidels, you can talk boastingly enough in the taverns--but talk to him now, as he sits upon the throne! O you heretics can shout your blasphemies loudly enough here. Now say that you believe not in the Son of God. Look into his face now!

They dare not, for the great men and the mighty men and the noble men and the despots and the conquerors and the men of blood, cry out, 'Mountains, fall on us, and rocks cover us! Anything, but, oh, hide us from the face of him that sits upon the throne, and the wrath of the Lamb!'

If I am speaking to any ungodly ones here this morning, who have come into this Tabernacle out of curiosity, I tell you that though you may mock and deride every word I have uttered--yet as the Lord of hosts lives, you have yet to meet that once patient face of Jesus Christ, and unless you are reconciled unto him your cry shall be, 'Oh for Alps, oh for Andes, oh for Himalaya ranges--to cover my soul from the awful glance of that eye which once wept in pity and compassion over lost men!'

I close with one other light of Scripture. The face of Jesus Christ, is, thank God, a face that may be sought. Look at Psalm 27:8, 'When you said, Seek my face; my heart said unto you, Your face, O Lord, will I seek.' Jesus Christ says to every man and woman here this morning, 'Seek my face. It is not hidden with a veil, like the face of Moses. You may look into it. Come, this morning, seek my face.'

Oh, will not you? Seek it as a sad face, and remember that it bore your griefs. Seek his face, and look upon it as the face of consecration and holy purpose, and then say, 'He would go to Jerusalem that he might die for me.' And then seek you his face in the high priest's palace, and mark it being patient, and say, 'Your face, Lord, will I seek; and I behold with wondrous shame and boundless gratitude that face defiled, that my eyes might see the light and beauty of Heaven.'

And methinks that from the silent tomb there comes a voice from beneath that napkin, it is this, 'Seek my face.'

Go poor sinner, into that tomb, and lift up that cloth, and look into the face of a dead Christ, and say, 'He died for me, and I trust in him.' And then from the tomb let thought take wing, and fly upwards to the throne, for coming down from glory-land I hear the words, 'Seek my face.' Reply, 'Your face, Lord, will I seek; and on the throne will I behold you as my intercessor, my redeemer, my all.'

May the blessed Spirit take us all day long from one point of vantage to another, until we shall have seen the face of Jesus Christ in all its lovely aspects. May everyone of us now go from this Tabernacle with the face of Jesus Christ before our eyes, for his name's sake. Amen.