The Patience of Christ

Edward Griffin (1770—1837)
 

1 Timothy 1:16
"But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life."

Unbelief represents God as acting from mere calculation, without any of that direct love which exists among creatures. The principal end of Christ's mediatorial work was to dispel this delusion with every other, and to bring forth the real character of God to view. He "is the image of God," held out to show creatures what God is. The better to do this he appeared in a nature capable of feeling all the passions of men, and in that nature felt, in every moral respect, precisely like God. It was a man taken into personal union with the Deity, so that his feelings might be a public and full exposition of the heart of God. It was God acting with human sensibilities, to show more familiarly how the eternal Father feels—how men, with their tastes and passions, ought to feel—and to reveal the moral contrast between men and God. It was God set forth to view in a visible and tangible form, with all the wants, sensibilities, and temptations of men. It was eternal purity and love laid out upon a human scale.

Amidst the divine glories which shine in the person and work of Christ, my attention now fixes on his patience. To this I am led by the grateful acknowledgment of that wondrous man who, converted from a bloody persecutor to an apostle, had been pardoned at the foot of the cross. "But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life."

Passing by other views, I am disposed to contemplate the patience of Christ,

I. As it appeared before Pilate and the Jews.

II. As it appears in his longsuffering towards his people, both before and after their conversion.

III. As it appears in his consent to atone, and in a sense to answer, for all their sins against himself.

I. I am to consider his patience as it appeared before Pilate and the Jews.

Bishop Horsely remarks, that properly to consider the example of Christ, is one of the last things which a mature faith achieves. I will add, that no man is fully prepared to admire the patience of Christ until he has had an opportunity to feel how hard it is to bear malignity and scorn. How does the great apostle of the Gentiles, (probably the holiest mere man that ever lived,) fade in comparison with him who stood before Pilate and the Jews. When the high priests, at the head of the Sanhedrin, commanded one to smite him on the mouth, Paul answered with force, "God shall smite you, you whited wall; for you judge me after the law, and command me to be smitten contrary to the law?"

But when, in a similar condition, one actually smote Christ, as he would a slave, with the palm of his hand, you hear only this meek reply: "If I have spoken evil bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smite you me?" He was arrested, arraigned, and interrogated as a criminal; but nothing could irritate or discompose him. They brought false witnesses against him; they accused him of blasphemy, and pronounced him worthy of death. They spit in his face; they mocked and buffeted him; they blindfolded him and smote him on the face with "the palms of their hands, saying Prophesy unto us, Christ, who is he who smote you?" The very servants treated him in this insulting manner. His "disciples forsook him and fled." The chief one of them, overcame by the dreadful scene, denied him in his very presence with oaths and curses. Still he remained unruffled. He was sent bound to Pilate, and thence to Herod. Herod with his men of war insultingly arrayed him in a gorgeous robe, and sent him back to Pilate. In the presence of Pilate a robber was preferred before him. "They cried out: Away with him, away with him, crucify him!" Pilate then having scourged him, (an operation to the last degree torturing and cruel,) delivered him up to be crucified. The whole band of soldiers then gathered around him, and stripped his mangled body, and put on him a robe of mock royalty and a crown of thorns, and placed a reed in his right hand for a scepter, and spit in his face, and smote him with their hands, and with the reed drove the thorns into his temples, and contemptuously bowed the knee before him and hailed him king of the Jews.

Still he was calm. He talked composedly at different times during the whole scene. Nothing could exasperate him; nothing could hurry his spirits; nothing could flush his cheek or fire his eye; nothing could discompose a feature. His temper, like omnipotence itself, was proof against everything that an enemy could do. The fortitude of an Alexander vanishes here. It was unspeakably harder to bear these insults than to break through embattled legions. And to bear them with such a temper, was more difficult still. "He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he who rules his spirit, than he who takes a city." Well might the apostle beseech men "by the meekness and gentleness of Christ."

When they had dragged him to Calvary, they suspended him on the torturing spikes between two thieves; they mocked him with vinegar and gall; they insulted his agony with the most cruel sarcasms and the most provoking triumphs. "Those who passed by reviled him, wagging their heads." Still not a threat nor a reproach could they extort from him. The very thieves who were dying with him, insulted and blasphemed him. One of them he converted and pardoned almost before the blasphemies were silent on his tongue. At last, lifting his languishing eye to Heaven, he poured out his expiring breath in prayer for his murderers: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."

If his former patience outdid that of a man, this was indeed the patience of a God. Here was displayed before a wondering universe the perfect spirit of the divine law—the real temper of the eternal God—and precisely what men ought to be.

But there is another view of his patience which must by no means be omitted. All these trials dwindle into nothing compared with that which is yet to be mentioned.

In that fearful hour, not only were the powers of earth and Hell let loose upon him, but his Father withdrew from him the light of his countenance. That paternal countenance which had been accustomed to beam upon him with ineffable tenderness, was now darkened with an awful frown. When the wondrous phenomenon occurred that God the Father frowned on God the Son, no wonder that the sun of our system veiled itself in darkness—that the earth trembled and quaked. The repose of the sleeping dead was disturbed; all nature was convulsed, and the Heaven of heavens was enrapt in amazement and concern. But amidst this strange commotion of the universe, the meek-eyed Jesus was composed and calm. The Lamb of God submitted without a murmur, and with but one exclamation of distress, to the stroke of almighty vengeance. For six long hours he hung on the ragged irons without an impatient feeling. He meekly bore the sin of man and the tokens of his Father's wrath. He bore it, penitent sinner, he bore it all for you.

II. Let us contemplate his patience as it appears in his long suffering towards his people, both before and after their conversion.

Many of his elect were engaged in that horrid scene—many whom he had loved with an everlasting love. Did he strike them dead? Did he change his electing decree? No! he loved them still, and notwithstanding this infernal malice, was willing to die for their redemption. Before his body was removed from the cross, he sent his Spirit to bring some of those murderers to repentance, and following it up with his pardoning love, washed them white in the blood they had shed. The centurion who had commanded that brutal band—who had presided over that whole scene of horrid mockery, and ordered every nail to be driven; he, and some of his blood stained crew, were convinced by the darkness and the earthquake, were transfixed by fear and remorse, and before they left the spot were brought to repentance, and glorified God, saying, "Truly this was the Son of God." "And all the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their bosoms and returned."

Forty-nine days after this, when an immense concourse of these murderers were assembled on the day of Pentecost, Peter charged home upon them the atrocious deed: "Him being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, you have taken and by wicked hands have crucified and slain." While he spoke, the Holy Spirit, sent out by the risen Savior, fell upon them, and brought to repentance and to mercy three thousand of these murderers at once. A few days after, the same apostle made the same charge against a vast multitude assembled in the temple. And "many of those who heard the word believed; and the number of the men was about five thousand." And if eight thousand were brought to repentance under the first two sermons, what multitudes received the same grace before that generation passed away. A great many thousand who had consented to the most atrocious deed that was ever perpetrated by men or devils, were admitted to the bosom they had pierced, and received from the face which they had smitten and marred, nothing but smiles and love.

But passing by an innumerable multitude, let us consider the instance alluded to in the text. Saul of Tarsus was the chief of sinners. Deeply read in the Scriptures of the Old Testament, and brought up at the feet of Gamaliel, with an intellect powerful and discriminating, he ought to have been among the first to discover the proofs which surrounded the mission of Christ. He had long dwelt in streets which the Son of God had filled with his miracles and illuminated with his doctrines—which he had consecrated by his prayers and watered with his tears. He could not have been ignorant of the darkness and the earthquake which attended the crucifixion, nor of the wonders wrought on the day of Pentecost. And yet he resisted all the light, and became an infuriated leader in the unhallowed insurrection against the Messiah. He was among the first and most zealous that raised the torch of persecution. When the beloved Steven was stoned, Saul was "consenting to his death." He "imprisoned and beat in every synagogue them that believed." "Many of the saints" he "shut up in prison—and when they were put to death" he "gave" his "voice against them. And he punished them oft in every synagogue and compelled them to blaspheme; and being exceedingly mad against them—persecuted them even unto strange cities." He demanded letters from the chief priests to Damascus, and volunteered in that direction as a missionary of persecution. I see him urging his journey with anxious speed, with his eye fixed on the distant prey, foaming with rage, feasting his heart with anticipations of Christian tears and blood, firmly determined not to rest until he had left to the hated "Nazarine" neither name nor memorial on earth.

But behold, "at mid day" he "saw in the way a light from Heaven above the brightness of the sun." It was the Lord Jesus descending in the habiliments of his glory. But why has he descended? Is his patience quite exhausted? Has his right hand taken hold on vengeance? Is he about to smite the rebel trembling at his feet? Will his first words be, Depart you who are cursed!

Ah, it is the patient Jesus still. "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" The trembling rebel cries, "Who are you, Lord?" The Lord does not strike him dead by uncovering the solemn glories of the Godhead He tenderly replies, "I am Jesus whom you are persecuting. But rise and stand upon your feet, for I have appeared unto you for this purpose,"—what purpose? "to make" him "a minister" of the Gospel of peace, a chosen vessel to bear his name among the Gentiles, a distinguished champion of the cross; to labor and suffer and die for his name's sake.

This was an instance purposely set up to convince the Church in all ages of the amazing patience of Christ. "But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life."

Was this the character of Christ eighteen hundred years ago? He is still the same. For though he does not now by miraculous interpositions hang around him the outward marks of his character, to strike the senses, but has retired from our view, he has retired for this purpose, that being no longer an object of sight, he might give stronger action to faith. But he is still the same, and leaves not himself without a daily witness. With the same unconquerable love and patience he bears with all the sins of his elect through the periods of their childhood, youth, and riper years, while yet they are his enemies and hold him bound by no covenant obligations. While yet they are united with the wicked in reviling his religion and blaspheming his name—his love is still fixed upon them. He watches over them day and night to protect them from ten thousand dangers. "A thousand" may "fall at their side, and ten thousand at" their "right hand," but they are still preserved. He follows them with the checks and whispers of his Spirit. He frequently forces them into the secret corner to pray. He calls them when like little Samuel, they know not who it is that calls them.

At length when the appointed time arrives, he sets home the law upon their hearts. The commandment comes, sin revives, and they die. O then they think they are forever cast out from his presence. But these are only the measures he takes to bring them home to him. Their hearts resist all these impressions, but his patience never fails. And when the selected moment comes, he changes the heart of stone to flesh and puts a new song in their mouths. From that instant he is bound to them by a covenant which nothing can dissolve, and takes upon himself the finishing of their salvation. From that moment he loves them as himself, and it becomes as fixed as Heaven that none of their sins can separate them from him. They may raise temporary walls of partition between him and themselves, but nothing can exhaust his patience. As a mother feels for her sick and froward infant, whose side she never leaves—so he feels for them. And so will he continue to feel until he has brought them home to glory!

III. Let us consider his patience as manifested in his consent to atone, and in a sense to answer, for all the sins of men against himself.

This is a greater wonder still. While believers, (to speak only of them,) are sinning, he patiently consents that all their sins, as they hourly arise, should be charged against himself, and should be pardoned for the sake of his sufferings.

Should a child abuse his parents, and the mother, not content with patiently enduring the injury, should offer her intercession to procure forgiveness from the father, and consent to have the offence charged against herself—this would be but a faint image of the astonishing love of Christ. He freely suffered an equivalent for our punishment, so needful to support the authority of the law. He put himself in the place of his people, and, (so to speak,) assumed and discharged all their debts, wiping off all future scores. This done, he ascended to intercede for them in the presence of God—to take hourly upon himself, (if I may so say,) all their new debts as they come in, swallowing them all up in the atonemet he has made. All our ingratitude against himself he in this manner assumes—all our forgetfulness of him—all our cruelty which opens his wounds afresh. Where am I? Am I carried back to the judgment hall and the Pretorium?

The patience of Christ is certainly as great now as then.

Such is Christ; and exactly such is God. There is no moral difference between them. In love to a world of sinners God is not second. The whole plan of mercy is spoken of as originating with him. The Father "sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins," and is as willing to accept the satisfaction as Christ was to make it. In consenting that his Son should take upon himself the burden of mediation, his love to the world was as great as that of Christ. He who has seen the moral character of the Son, has seen that of the Father. We behold the whole Godhead shining forth "in the face of Jesus Christ." He is "the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image of his person;" and "in him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily." Here then the character of God is clearly brought out to light.

Is this the God whom a wicked world abhor? Is this he whose government they oppose, whose throne they would demolish, whom lust and rancor represent as a tyrant worse than Nero? Where sleep the divine thunders while such blasphemies are abroad?

Such is God; and such man ought to be—in love—in love to enemies—in love to all. This is holiness. This is what the law of God requires. This is what the government of God was established to promote. Yet against this law and government the whole world are in arms and outrageous in their murmurs. Where is the red right hand of justice? Ah, it is held motionless by the arm of mercy—by patience which astonishes all Heaven.

Such is Christ; and how important a place does he fill in the religion of Christians. From the system of pagan morals he may well be spared; but can real Christians put him out of view, or reduce him to a mere schoolmaster sent out to instruct? If it is the Christian religion which we profess—then our devotions, our faith, our hopes should be full of Christ. He is the all in all to Christians. That religion which does not begin and end with him, is not of God.

Such is Christ, and on him ought Christians to place their unwavering confidence. In point of patience and love, the human nature of Christ is what it was when he stood before Pilate, though probably vastly enlarged; and in point of all moral feelings, his human nature is an exact image of the divine. Why do you then say, O Christian, that he has not patience enough to keep covenant with you? that he has not love enough to save so stupid, neglectful, and vile a sinner?

That he is not weary of you, proves indeed his unparalleled patience. Any mere man would soon grow weary of so perverse a charge. This you know; and entertaining too low ideas of his love, you are tempted to think him altogether such a one as yourself. But would you behold him in the light that Paul now does, you would awake from your gloomy dream and stand astonished at the amazing love and patience of Christ. Could you with enlightened faith behold him patiently enduring all the sins of his unregenerate elect in all nations and ages, without any abatement of his love to their persons; could you view him bearing with all the faults of his regenerate family, scattered among the nations and drawn into a million different follies by the temptations of the world; could you see all this, and understand that in no instance since the conversion of Adam has his patience towards his redeemed people ever failed; you would gather courage to commit your all into his hands, and among the rest, a poor, imperfect soul, to be purified by his blood and Spirit and presented to the Father by his intercession.

Why can you not see all this? All this is the truth of God; why can you not believe it? There sits Christ above these visible heavens, with the same love and patience that appeared in the judgment hall. There he sits, and loves his people with infinite tenderness, and patiently pleads for the pardon of all their sins as they arise. All this is as real as though you saw it with your eyes. Could you, like Thomas, see, you would believe.

But Christ has retired from sight on purpose to give operation to faith; and now he says, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." Go to him with the prayer of the disciples, "Lord, increase our faith!" Plead, with the father of the lunatic, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" You must depend on him and go to him as much for faith as for life. Go and receive more faith, and exercise it in confidently trusting in his love and faithfulness. He has proved himself faithful in all past ages. None ever trusted in him and were desolate. He has "been our dwelling place in all generations." He will never leave nor forsake his people. Commit your all to him without wavering, and he will keep that which you have committed to him until the day of his appearing.

Such is Christ; and if there is any virtue or any gratitude, let us devote our hearts and lives to him. Let us "thus judge—that he died for all, that those who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him which died for them and rose again." We "are not our own, we are bought with a price." Let us "therefore glorify God in our body and in our spirit, which are God's."

Shall this heavenly benefactor continue to be "wounded in the house of his friends"? Shall this grace of God be turned into licentiousness? Will any take encouragement to sin from that love which stooped from Heaven to redeem them from all pollution? Will they transgress because their sins were ponderous enough to crush their Redeemer from a throne to the manger and the cross? No exhibition ever made in Hell pronounces sin to be so dreadful as does the cross of Christ. Dream not that he came to be "the minister of sin." No, he came to "save his people from their sins." And it is inscribed on the foundations of his kingdom, "If any man has not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his."

O sinners, can you reject such a Savior! Will you plunge into eternal burnings rather than receive him? Will you stand and sport with his agonies? Will you trample his blood under foot? Will you break your way to Hell over his mangled body? Stop, stop your mad career. O turn, and let the blood which your sins have shed wash out every stain. Turn before justice allows his patience to work no longer. Turn before the Lamb is changed to a lion; before he rouses his wrath and swears: You shall never enter my rest. Depart from me, you who practice iniquity!