Jesus, the Immutable God!

Archibald Brown
East London Tabernacle; April 13, 1899
 

"In the beginning, O Lord, you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will roll them up like a robe; like a garment they will be changed. But you remain the same, and your years will never end." Hebrews 1:10-12

'But you remain the same.' May the Spirit of the Lord lift us up to the exceeding height of the argument of this morning's theme. Greatly shall we need his teaching, for unless he illumines our minds and touches our lips, the very stupendousness of our theme will overwhelm us.

You will observe that in the sublime exordium of this chapter contained in the first four verses, the writer takes two things for granted. The first is the inspiration of the Scriptures. This he does not stop to argue, but he boldly declares it as an indisputable fact. The declaration leaps forth in the short, sharp, suggestive words, 'God has spoken.' The eternal silence has been broken; Jehovah's voice has been heard; and earth has received a revelation directly from God's own mouth. God has spoken. None the less was he the speaker because, as the writer adds, he spoke 'by the prophets'. They were not merely spokesmen for God. God was spokesman for himself in them. It is not that Moses or David or Isaiah or Jeremiah spoke their views concerning God, but that God declared himself by them. The difference is vital.

The next point that he takes for granted is the unity of the two revelations, for you will observe that the same God speaks in both. The God who in old times 'spoke unto the fathers by the prophets', 'has in these last days spoken unto us in his Son'. The speaker is the same in both revelations. The New Testament does not ignore the Old Testament; far less does it contradict it, or supersede it. The New Testament rests upon the Old Testament, and completes it. The spire that rises up into the heavens with a glittering cross upon the top does not supersede the massive tower from which it rises. It merely crowns it and makes the whole building complete. The New Testament is but the grand finale of the Old Testament; not separate from it, nor simply linked onto it, but growing up out of it. The whole Bible is a living organism. Deal with it as Solomon threatened to deal with the child: divide it, and you simply kill it.

But though these two revelations are one--yet are there some very striking and teachful contrasts between them. These are indicated in the first four verses. You will see that the first revelation was ancient and fragmentary. 'In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways.' The old revelation was fragmentary. Well near fifteen-hundred years were employed in its writing. But the New Testament is recent and final, for God has 'in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son'. There is to be no further utterance. Fragmentary revelation is over, and now we have a glorious completeness. There may be a fuller understanding of that which is already revealed, but there will never be anything more revealed by God.

The old revelation, you will see, was varied in its method of delivery, for God spoke in 'various way'—by audible voices, by the prophet's tongue, by the mysterious Urim and Thummim, by sacrifice, by type. In a hundred different ways God spoke. But in the new revelation it is not so. 'He has spoken unto us in his Son.'

As a writer has well put it, 'The light in the Old Testament comes to us through a stained glass window, rich in hues, and covered over with exquisite emblems, and the light is tinged by the medium through which it passes. But, in the New Testament, God's light comes through clear glass, and in Christ we behold a perfect, complete, clear, and final revelation!'

Thank God that we have a revelation, because the fact that God has spoken to men, is the ground of all true religion. Everything rests upon the fact of a divine revelation. The revelation, you will see, is concerning a person. It is the revelation of God in Christ. How important, then, the question, Who is he? Who is this Christ who sums up and includes all the other revelations? The theme of this epistle to the Hebrews is the answering of that question. The purpose of this marvelous letter is to show the transcendent, all-surpassing excellence of the Lord Jesus Christ.

The argument of the first chapter and part of the second is that Christ is better than the angels. Then the writer passes on to show that Christ is better than Moses, better than Aaron, better than Joshua; that his sacrifice is better than the Levitical, and that he brings in a better covenant, a better hope, and a better resurrection. It is the betterness of Christ all the way through.

This morning we shall have no need to go beyond this first chapter. I stand, as it were, upon the brink of a great deep. I would plunge in, and call you to follow me; and yet I almost dread lest we should be drowned, for the deeps are so great. You must bear in mind—to change the metaphor—that my text is the climax of an argument; and therefore, to understand our theme, it will be necessary for us to keep our eyes upon this chapter in its entirety.

I say, it is a climax. The apostle has been showing how that Christ is better than the angels, and he shows that fact in many different respects, until he works up to this point—that Jesus Christ is the eternal and immutable God. That is the grand climax. He is speaking of Jesus when he says, 'And you, Lord, in the beginning have laid the foundations of the earth; and the heavens are the works of your hands. They shall perish, but you remain the same'.

After Heaven and earth have passed away like a dream—after the most stable, the most solid things have gone like the mirage of the desert—after the heavens have been folded up like a scroll, 'you remain the same'. The great theme is that the man Christ Jesus, the revelation of the Father, is none other than the eternal and immutable God!

I shall ask you to follow me carefully and prayerfully as we note this text, first, as the language of adoring worship, and then as the language of wondrous consolation.

Oh, what a mercy it is, that when everything else has gone, Jesus remains. After our earth and our heavens have perished, and when all that we have rested on and looked up to has melted into thin air, leaving 'not a rock behind', we are yet able to say, 'But you remain the same.'

May the Spirit help us as we look at these words, first, as the language of adoring worship. The theme is the transcending glory of the Son of God.

'You remain the same.' These words are the glittering peak of the highest point of a mountain range. Let us try to trace this surpassing glory, as we find it in this passage.

Observe, first, that Jesus has all-surpassing glory in his relationship to the Father. You find that in the second and the fifth verses. He 'has in these last days spoken unto us by his Son'; and then, 'for unto which of the angels did he ever say, You are my Son?' When the writer commences his grand task of showing the superiority of Christ over the angels, he commences with the relationship which Christ has to the Father—that of son. This is no mere official title. Oh, beware of such an idea. It is not that Jesus is simply called a son, but he is a son—a son in a unique sense, the Son of God in a sense in which no seraph, no angel, no archangel, and no man on earth, can be said to be. It is a declaration of the actual relationship of Jesus to the first person of the adorable Godhead.

'This day have I begotten you.' You may say, 'Oh, yes, but in a sense are we not all begotten as sons of God?' Scripture says that Christ is 'the only begotten of the Father'. In modern times, names have no meaning. They are simply labels attached to our persons, to distinguish one from another. But every name of God is expressive of the nature of God; and when, as I read here, Christ received a more excellent name than the angels, it was because he occupied a relationship to the Father perfectly unique. The angel hosts, glorious though they are, are but sparks that have flown from the anvil of God's creative power. But unto Jesus he says, 'This day have I begotten you.' He is the very essence of the Father's nature.

The next point is this, that the transcendent glory of Christ is seen in the fact that he is the radiance of the Father's glory. "The Son is the radiance of God's glory." Hebrews 1:3

The radiance of his glory seems to imply that there are some degrees in the glory of God, and that Jesus Christ is the brightest point of that glory. The radiance is the outpouring of his glory. The sunbeams are the radiance of the sun, and it is in their light that we see the sun. And Jesus is the 'light of light'. He is 'God of God, very God of very God'. He is the outpouring of the Father's glory.

And now the writer takes another step higher. Take off your shoes from your feet, for it is holy ground whereon we tread. 'And the exact representation of his being.' I hope before long, God helping me, to lead out your thoughts in study upon the Shekinah light as you read of it in the Old Testament. It is a deep, mysterious thing. God was in that Shekinah light. That Shekinah light was the expression of his presence, but it had no form. The Shekinah light was not 'the express image' of God. But in Jesus we have not only the true Shekinah, but we have the very image of God. Jesus is the Father's image. 'He who has seen me', says Christ, 'has seen the Father.' In him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.' Have you risen up, then, to this height—the transcending glory of the Lord Jesus as the radiance of the Father's glory?

Yes, but you must go higher yet, for this glory appears, not only in his relationship to the Father, but in his relationship to the church. Here you must go back to that second verse, 'he has in these last days spoken unto us'. Then Jesus Christ is prophet to the church. And in that concluding clause of the third verse you read, 'By himself he purged our sins." Then he is priest to the church. And the last line of that third verse says that he 'sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high'. Then he is king to the church. Prophet, priest, and king; the revealer, the teacher, the sacrifice, the altar, and the priest. God's gospel is not simply a philosophy; nor is Jesus only a teacher. He is the prophet telling me what God is. He is also the priest making atonement for my sins, and access for me into the divine presence.

And he who is prophet and priest, by virtue of his atoning sacrifice sits down at the Father's right hand, and becomes the mediatorial king!

Oh angels, where are you? Oh, you sons of the morning, can you compete with him? The highest honor of the angels is set forth in the last verse. They are 'ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those who shall be heirs of salvation'. The angels are the servants to the church--but Christ is prophet, priest, and king!

But now let me take you one step farther upwards, and we shall be getting nearer to the pinnacle of our text. What is the nature of Christ's superiority over the angels? We have already touched upon this, showing you how he transcends them in nature; but if you look at the seventh verse, you will see another point of superiority. Listen, 'And of the angels he says, Who makes his angels winds.' Then the difference between Christ and the angels is the difference between maker and made, and that distance is simply infinite. The highest archangel in Heaven this morning, the head of some of those principalities and powers, is made, and Christ is his maker.

If you look on a little farther still, you will see that there is a difference in that sixth verse which is even greater. 'When he brings in the first begotten into the world, he says, And let all the angels of God worship him.' Then the difference between Christ and the angels is the difference between the worshiper and the worshiped.

And the last verse tells me that the difference between Christ and the angels is the difference between master and servant. 'Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister to those who shall be heirs of salvation?'

I came here this morning praying that you might get such a vision of the glory of Christ that you should be overwhelmed. Our desire is that when you leave this Tabernacle you shall be just powerless to speak a word about the preacher, or about the sermon--only exclaiming, 'Oh, what a Christ I have!'

And yet we have not reached the climax of our text, for now comes the transcendent glory of Christ in relation to creation. Note his relation to creation in the second and the tenth verses, 'By whom also he made the worlds'; and then, 'And you, O Lord, in the beginning have laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of your hands.' Jesus, then, is the God who speaks in the first chapter of Genesis. The Lord Jesus Christ, your Savior, is the one who hung out the heavens as a curtain, and who spoke, saying, 'Let there be light!' He made the worlds!

The opening chapter of Genesis declares the creation of matter. 'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.' And then we read, 'The earth was without form and void.' What we call the creation is really the arrangement of that which was already created. But, oh, that first verse! Do you think that it goes back four thousand years? Do you think that it goes back four billion years? I know not.

'In the beginning." The mind grows dizzy as it tries to take in those words, 'In the beginning.' Yes, and in the beginning Christ was, for I read that he made the worlds. There is not an alpine peak but thunders out, 'Christ made me!' There is not a smiling valley but sings, 'Jesus formed me!' There is not a star that peeps like angel's eye but owns the man of Nazareth to be its maker. Behold! Jesus, the revealer of the Father, is creator of all worlds.

The third verse crowns the second, for I read there, 'upholding all things by the word of his power'. He is not only the Creator, but, do you see, he is the Sustainer of all. 'By him all things are held together.' The suns with all their systems hang upon his fingers. He who created all things in the beginning, sustains all things now.

Oh, Spirit of God, can you go farther than this? Yes, for look at the second verse. He is heir of all things. He creates all; he sustains all; and he is the possessor of all. By him, through him, for him, are all things. Lift up your eyes this night if the clouds be gone, and look at the marshaled host of the heavens, and say concerning them, 'He who hung in shame and nakedness and blood upon that tree—he made them all! He upholds them all. They are his silver coins which he drops from his purse. He is heir of all.' There is not a world, known or unknown, which is not Jesus Christ's personal property! 'The Father has made him heir of all. You angels, where are you now?

We have only one step onward, and we will stand on the very pinnacle. Let the earth that he formed, split with the crack of doom and perish; and let the heavens pass away with a great noise, and, like skin before a furnace flame, let them shrivel up; and where is the Christ? 'You remain the same.'

Will you try for a moment to imagine that all that ever has been created, has passed away like a dream.

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yes, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like an unsubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rock behind.

And, when all is gone, Christ, the eternal, the immutable, remains. Has he aged by all these long centuries? No; he is the same as when, in the early morning of 'the beginning', he spoke all things into existence.

There is only one thing left for us to do, beloved, and that is to fly to the eighth verse, and breathe it as adoring worship. 'The Father says unto the Son, 'Your throne, O God, is forever and ever.' O Elohim, we bow and worship you, 'very God of very God'.

Now just for the remaining five minutes I want you to come down from the heights which we have been treading. Let the grand doctrine become a word of wondrous consolation. I want to put this text onto the lips of all of you who are here this morning. Is it not a blessed thing that, amid earth's changes, there is an unchangeable one; and amidst the perishing, there is one who remains the same?

I want to put my text onto the lips of the aged here. Dear aged ones, do you sometimes feel as if you had outlived all your relations? Does a sense of loneliness steal over you? You think of bygone days, when you were surrounded by your friends. They are gone, and you still keep tottering along. They have fallen one after another, and you, an old man, feel alone and desolate. Oh, aged one, look up, and say, 'But you remain the same!' After all, though you seem to be as solitary as a pelican in the wilderness, or a sparrow on the housetop--yet you may say of your precious Jesus, 'You remain the same.'

I would like to put these words into the mouth of the man who has been stripped of all earthly comforts. It is very easy for others to speak lightly of afflictions, but I do not find that they are so spoken of by those who are enduring them. It may be that in a great throng like that which we have here this morning there is one who can say, 'Well, pretty much all that I have ever had to make life gladsome has left me. As for my health, that has fled. The strong buoyancy which once I knew I know not now. My business is not what it used to be. I do not make as much over the counter in a week now, as I used to make on a Saturday night a few years ago.' There may be, in the mind of someone, the dread and terror which every honest man has of not being able to pay all that is due to everyone. You mean to pay all, but you know that to do so means the selling of your last piece of furniture, and yet you are prepared to do that rather than defraud anyone.

And, as you have lost your business, you have lost your friends. No; you have not, but you have lost those who called themselves friends. There has been a wonderful diminution among them. And you have come up here this morning feeling that, if it were only proper to wear black for temporal or financial bereavements, you might well be clothed in deepest mourning.

Look here, dear friend, I want to take you by the hand, and I want you now just to follow the course of my eye. Look up, and, as you look up into the face of Christ, say, 'In the beginning, O Lord, you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will roll them up like a robe; like a garment they will be changed. But you remain the same, and your years will never end.'

How can I bereaved be,
Since I cannot part with Thee?'

And this leads me to put my text into the mouth of a third class. I want the bereaved here to say it. Oh, death is not something to be laughed at, and bereavement is not an event to be spoken lightly about. Those who have passed through it know to the contrary.

Widow, are you here this morning? Do you look at that chair where he used to sit, until you cannot see it because of the blinding tears? You know what it is to be pretty much suffocated with grief. Is there an awful sense of loneliness upon you? Are you ready to say, 'All that I lived for is gone'? Oh, look up, and say, 'But, Lord, you remain the same.'Widow, trust in him. Your husband's God eternally abides. You can yet say to him, 'You remain the same.'

Mother, has a child been taken, and is your heart broken? Well, can you not look up, and say, 'But you remain! O Death, in the power of this text I will defy you! You may come with your scythe and cut down this one and that one; and after you have smitten my heart, and made me for a time to be like withered grass, I will yet triumph, and say, 'You, O Lord, in the beginning have laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the work of your hands; they shall perish, but you remain.'

And, lastly, may I put it into the mouth of the soul that has lost all his comfortable experiences. I know that you ought not to have done so. In all probability it is your own fault. Still, there is the fact. You have not the pleasant hours that you once enjoyed. Those heavenly frames of yours have disappeared. Instead of drinking deep draughts of the water of life, you have the grit and the gravel of this world between your teeth, and you are ready to say, 'If salvation is by sweet feelings, then I am hopelessly lost.' What a mercy it is that, after all my fine feelings have perished, 'You remain!' is still the truth.

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus' name.

When the blue heavens of my joyous experience are clouded, or when they have spread their wings and gone--what a mercy that Christ remains, and that he remains the same! He is not a less glorious Christ because I am in the dark this morning. He is not a less glorious Christ because I have not quite such a full assurance as I had last week. After my heavens and my earth have perished, he remains, and he ever will. My Savior is the eternal God. My Christ, the I Am, he who died upon the cross for me, lives evermore, throughout eternity 'the same!'

In spirit I look far down those endless ages. Aeon follows aeon, and still the song rises and swells, filling Heaven with its melody: 'You remain! You remain! The same eternal, immutable, Lord Jesus!'

May the Lord add his blessing to our meditation, for his name's sake. Amen.