4. THE SHEPHERD OF THE
FLOCK SMITTEN
In contemplating, in the preceding pages, the successive pictures of the Flock
astray, and its return to the fold, we have been led casually to anticipate
the great topic of the salvation purchased by the Shepherd for the guilty and
the perishing. We shall make, however, themes of such peerless importance
subject of more special and peculiar consideration in this and the following
chapter, before passing to other Bible delineations regarding the Sheep. In
the sublime figurative language of the prophet Zechariah, a mysterious summons
is heard in the court of Heaven. The sword of Justice, which had slumbered in
its sheath ever since the time when rebel angels had swerved from their
allegiance, is again awoke. We listen in thought to the most dreadful words
which ever broke the trance of Eternity—"Awake, O sword, against my Shepherd,
and against the man who is my fellow, says the Lord of Hosts; smite the
Shepherd." The first thing which strikes us in this remarkable, this
tremendous utterance is, that it is God the Eternal Father who gives the
decree for the smiting of the Shepherd. It is at the bidding of Jehovah that
that dreadful sword leaps from its scabbard, "Awake, O sword, says the Lord of
Hosts."
Here, however, we must from the outset guard against anything that would tend
to derogate from the character of God as a God of Love. We repeat the remark
which we have already made: if there is any teaching which requires to be
repudiated more than another, as alike repulsive and unscriptural, it is the
unguarded language of those who speak of God much in the same way as they
would speak of a heathen Moloch—a vindictive Being, an avenging Deity, whose
wrath can be appeased and propitiated only by offerings of blood. The love of
God is thus falsely represented as something 'bought,' extorted at the expense
of another, the purchase-price being these untold sufferings of His co-eternal
Son! Ah! It would be a worthless thing, that. Love is a thing that cannot be
bribed. This noblest of emotions can never be degraded to the level of a
marketable commodity—a piece of mercenary barter. Besides, God's love needed
not thus to be purchased.
That love was the original cause of all blessing to His creatures. It existed
before the birth of time. Before ever angel pealed his anthem, or morning star
sang responsive to a jubilant sisterhood of worlds—it was that love which, in
the Eternity that is past, first devised the amazing scheme of Redemption, and
through the Eternity to come, the ascription of the triumphant Church will be,
"Thanks be unto GOD for His unspeakable gift."
The manifestation, however, of Love on the part of a great Moral Governor,
must be compatible with the exercise of His moral perfections. God's Justice,
Holiness, Righteousness, must be upheld inviolate. While mercy and truth go
before His face, justice and Judgment must continue the habitation of His
throne. Under the specious semblance of exalting the Divine Ruler in the
estimation of His loving and adoring creatures, it is easy to talk of His
unlimited mercy, His boundless compassion; that by a mere behest of
omnipotence, a volition of His sovereignty, He could have pardoned a rebel
world, and gathered back the lost sheep to the fold. Such declaimers, however,
look only to the Being of God; they do not think of His Character.
Doubtless, as the Omnipotent, He could do anything. He could, in the exercise
of uncontrolled Almightiness, replace, this hour, Satan and his legion host on
archangel thrones. So far as power is concerned, He could easily have
dispensed with any medium of atonement—forbade the awaking of that sword, the
wearing of that crown of thorns, and reinstated the fallen simply by the
proclamation of a universal amnesty. But what God, as the Omnipotent COULD do,
God, as the Holy, Righteous, Just, True, could not do. He could not promulgate
laws, and leave the transgressor to mock them with impunity. He could not
compromise His character—He could not darken Himself; He could not degrade his
legislative enactments into a mere name and nullity. Had he done so (rather
could He have done so), the pillars of His eternal throne would have tottered
to their base.
Was there, then, in the case of guilty man, any possible method, compatible
with the exercise of his moral attributes, by which the honor of God's name
and character and throne could be preserved intact, and yet the transgressor
be saved? Reason is silent here. Unassisted reason can shed no light on the
great problem. No, rather, had reason been left to frame the reply, there
could have been but one, "No hope,"—"A certain fearful looking for of judgment
and fiery indignation."
The principle of substitution—the innocent suffering for the guilty—is one
undreamed of in earthly philosophy. It is enough for us to accept the glorious
revealed truth, that the principle is one recognized and sanctioned in the
Divine economy—that here, at least, is one way, and it is the only one, by
which the God who has so solemnly averred that He "can by no means clear," can
clear the guilty—yes, and who, moreover, in doing so, can pour the luster of a
high vindication around every perfection of His nature, and every requirement
of His law. For dreadful as would have been the testimony to the Divine
Holiness and Justice and Truth, if sinners had been shut up in the fold of
destruction, and the cry had been heard, "Awake, O sword, against these
sheep"—not so dreadful an attestation would it have been, as when from His own
lips proceeded the gripping words, "Awake, O sword, against my Shepherd, and
against the man that is my fellow!" The Shepherd has been smitten—the Divine
honor has been upheld. Mercy and truth have been betrothed before the altar of
Calvary; God has joined them together for the salvation of the human race, and
that marriage-covenant never can be disannulled. Justice is now equally
interested with Love, in the rescue of the fallen. God is the just God, and
yet the Savior.
"Oh, righteous Father," exclaimed the Redeemer in His valedictory prayer, "the
world has not known You." 'They do not understand the infinite depths of Your
love. But surely when that sword awakes, its gleam will flash the truth upon
their souls. It will reveal what the intensity of that Love must have been
glowing in Your heart, which, rather than lose a race of wanderers, a flock
given over to slaughter—made You willing to give Your Eternal Son as a
peerless ransom!'
Yes; we may go farther, and boldly aver; if the Father's Love had not been
infinite, Justice would before now have been bidden to unsheathe her sword—the
hands would have been loosed from the head of the Divine Victim—the Sinless
One would have gone free, and guilty myriads been left to perish. But Love
triumphs. The command is given, "Bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto the
horns of the altar;" "Awake, O sword, against my Shepherd, and against the man
that is my fellow; smite the Shepherd!"