Lecture XV · Joy in Prospect of Martyrdom

THE link connecting these verses with that immediately preceding appears to be of this kind,—‘ I have spoken of my ministerial life as a running and a labouring for the salvation of my fellow-men ; but think not that I regret this toil. Nay, even though I be called on in this cause to die a martyr’s death, I will go forward to it gladly, and call on you, my converts and friends, to rejoice with me.’

The thought of suffering a violent death in the cause of Christ is exhibited under a peculiar form, interesting and beautiful,—‘ beng offered (more exactly, “poured out”’) upon the sacrifice and service of your faith. With certain of the sacrifices under the law of Moses there was presented also an offering of wine, which was poured on or around the altar. To this usage the apostle makes allusion. The ‘faith’ of the Philippians he sees lying on the altar of God as a sacrifice. His own exertion for their spiritual good, the ‘running’ and the ‘labouring’ which he has just spoken of, is naturally represented as his ‘ service,’ or ‘priestly work,’ connected with this oblation. It might be the will of God—circumstances seemed to render it not improbable that soon, in His providence, it might be shown to be His will—that, to complete *

The same word occurs also in 2 Tim. iv. 6, ‘I am now ready to be offered’—*‘ poured forth as a libation.’

the sacrifice, the apostle’s blood should be shed in martyrdom ; and he says that, if it should be so, he would make the libation with joy, and trusted that his Christian friends would through grace be enabled to rejoice with him, Such appears to be the thought exhibited in these verses. The idea set forth in our Authorized Version, of the shedding of the apostle’s blood as a libation or drink-offering ‘upon the sacrifice,’ is distinct and impressive. There is some doubt, however, whether the drink-offerings of the Mosaic ritual were poured ov the victim. You see, too, that ‘ sacrifice and service’ stand together. Now it seems impossible to give a definite significance to ‘on the priestly service connected with your faith,’ without bringing confusion into the figure. It is probable, therefore, though we give up with reluctance the clear and lively picture suggested by ‘upon the sacrifice,’ that the apostle’s meaning is rather, ‘If zz addition to the sacrifice of your faith, and my priestly service connected with it, I be offered as a libation,—a rendering which accords with a very frequent use of the original word translated ‘upon.’

Proceeding now to illustrate the apostle’s statement somewhat more fully, I invite your attention, in the first place, to the sacrifice. The Jewish sacrifices were of two kinds, some intended for propitiation, some to express gratitude. To the latter of these classes only has the self-consecration of true Christians an analogy. Our blessed Lord has, through the offering of Himself, once for all, ‘ perfected for ever’ all them that put their confidence in Him; and ‘there remaineth’— there is needed—‘no more sacrifice for sin.’ But ‘to offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually, giving thanks to His name,’ ‘to do good and to communicate,’ ‘to present our bodies living sacrifices,’ is the duty of all Christians, and their delight in the measure of the intelligence and liveliness of their faith, for ‘ with such sacrifices ’—-sacrifices of gratitude for His infinite love manifested to us in the unspeakable gift of the great propitiatory sacrifice—‘ God is well pleased.’

All sacrifices involve this as one essential element, that ‘ some possession deemed valuable is voluntarily given up. In modern use, indeed, apart from the language of theology, this thought is the only one intended when the word is employed, —as, for example, when we say that a man has gained a position of influence by the sacrifice of half his fortune, that a kind father has sacrificed his time to help his son in his studies, or the like.

The apostle’s statement, then, in the words, ‘ the sacrifice of your faith, is, when developed, to the effect that faith in Christ is a voluntary surrender to God, in a spirit of love and thankfulness, of something which by nature we deem very precious. To some it may seem strange to call faith a sacrifice. To speak of becoming a missionary to the heathen, or of giving money for religious purposes, as a sacrifice, seems to them an intelligible statement ; but scarcely such an expression as we have here. Yet, plainly, the apostle does call faith a sacrifice ; and, in truth, my brethren, it is the great fundamental sacrifice made by a Christian. Faith is not love, or zeal, or liberality ; but these all arise out of faith, and defect in those sacrifices always corresponds to defect in this. A test is evidently presented here by which we may try what we call and think our faith, A very large number of us consider that we have faith in Christ. Now, can we all deliberately and honestly say that our faith is a sacrifice? Do we really in it surrender anything © which we greatly valued? Did it cost us a struggle to give God our faith? Does it now cost us a struggle to keep giving God our faith? If we have no consciousness of anything like this, is there not reason to fear that what we call our faith is something distinct in kind from that state of mind and heart in the Philippians of which the apostle here speaks? May we not reasonably suspect that our ‘faith’ is but a bare, cold, uninterested assent to doctrine ?—something, therefore, which cannot by possibility save ; for the faith by which God’s grace introduces men into eternal life must be itself an energy of the

soul,—a living power, not a torpor. All faith in Christ worthy of the name, all faith which lays hold firmly of men’s affections, and thus becomes the governing power of the soul,— and no other faith than this is saving,—involves struggle. God has provided a Saviour who has done all that was needed to open up a way by which, consistently with the glories of the divine character and administration, mercy might flow forth to man, for pardon and for adornment with spiritual beauty ; and He asks from you and me, as our thank-offering for this ineffable manifestation of kindness, childlike acceptance of His gracious declarations, and absolute reliance on Christ. Such faith is a sacrifice. There is nothing that the natural heart would not sooner give to God than this; for it involves a renunciation of pride, which is the natural heart’s dearest possession,

Entering into this part of the subject a little more particularly, which its great importance claims, I observe that true faith in Christ is a sacrifice, inasmuch as it involves venunciation of the pride of reason. Our reason loves to elaborate for herself, to combine and compare, to draw conclusions and weave theories; and when she has reached any conclusion which is, or seems, true and important, then, surveying her gains, she delights to say, like Nebuchadnezzar as he looked out upon his palaces and ramparts, ‘Is not this great Babylon, that I have built?” But the gospel revelation comes, bringing with it sufficient evidence that it is from God, and, as being from Him, not offering itself to our feeble reason to be so dealt with as that we may choose some of its statements and set aside others, and, by combining those we choose, obtain some product which reason may complacently call her own, and rejoice in as water of life drawn by her own hand from her own wells of wisdom and salvation. No,—God’s revelation claims to be believed—to have ‘faith’ put in it—simply and wholly.

Again, the principal statements of the gospel are, in them-

selves, of such simplicity that a little child may, in a measure, apprehend them,—in such a measure as intelligently to believe them ; whilst, at the same time, at all points they touch and stretch out into the infinite, so that the boldest and strongest thinker finds himself no more able to comprehend them in all their bearings and ramifications than the little child is.

The absolute authority of the gospel, and its simplicity, and its mysteries, are all hateful to the arrogance of intellect. Faith is therefore a sacrifice.

This particular form of pride naturally takes prominence in proportion to the activity and success of intellectual speculation in other spheres than that of religion; and at no period, probably, has it been more intense and obvious than in our own > day. It has been fostered especially by the amazing progress of the natural sciences. Instead of feeling gratitude to God for the kindness which has led men on to such advances in physical comfort and physical means of usefulness, and being brought to submit all the more joyfully to the rule of the Creator of that nature which we are every day finding to be more and more wonderful, the proud heart of man comes to defy the command, ‘ Believe the gospel as a child, and glory in the cross of Christ.’ To the arrogance of intellect it seems hard— unendurable—that the race who, by the skilful and energetic exertion of their powers of mind, have been able to make the elements draw their cars, and carry their messages, and paint their pictures, should, in religion, have simply and implicitly to believe a ‘Thus saith the Lord.’ Ah, brethren, it was the thought that the mystic tree in the garden was ‘to be desired to make one wése’—the thought that men might ‘ be as gods, knowing good and evil’—which brought about the beginning of sin in the world; and this same thought has no little part in maintaining sin’s existence and power! So long as men, seeking after wisdom, fail to see that the only true wisdom for God’s creatures is childlike rest in His wisdom,—so long will the gospel of Christ be to them ‘foolishness.’

Again,—faith in Christ is a sacrifice, because it involves renunciation of the pride of self-righteousness. ΤῸ any one who, with attention and candour, either observes the world, or scrutinizes his own heart, it is plain that there is great proneness among men to dream that they can earn eternal life. This tendency, as is natural, is especially strong in the class of persons who, through God’s providence, have been by social, educational, and religious influences, fenced in from the commission of gross outward sins. The Pharisees, in our Lord’s time, were representatives of great numbers in all ages. The language of the heart in persons situated like ourselves is very apt to be something of this kind, ‘I am a respectable industrious man,—I never defrauded any one,—I have no impurity of life to reproach myself with, no cruelty, no oppression,—I am not unkind to the poor,—I attend church regularly, and read the Bible, and train my children to say their prayers, and at the stated seasons partake of the communion ;’ and, as we complacently thus recount our excellences to our souls, our inward thought is, ‘What more can God reasonably expect?’ We do not definitely deny the doctrine of the cross ; we have been too well taught from our childhood for that ; but we quietly put it away in a corner, never to be looked at, or turned to practical account. You remember the man who stood and prayed, saying, ‘God, I thank Thee that I am not as other men are.’ My brethren, we condemn this man, and marvel at his self-ignorance ; and, even while thus condemning and marvelling, we are very apt to go and -do likewise. Now with such a spirit the gospel of Christ will not suit ; for the reality and universality of sinfulness, and of utter inability to satisfy the claims of the divine law,—this, and, by consequence, the absolute gratuitousness of salvation, are of the very essence of gospel doctrine. The very first work of the Divine Spirit, in His function as the ‘Comforter,’ the Diffuser of true peace, is to ‘convince the world of sin.’ So long as we reckon ourselves whole, we shall plainly have no care for the help of the great

Physician. So long as we count ourselves ‘just persons, who need no repentance,’ we shall have no real, deep-reaching faith in Christ, or love to Him,—the Christ who ‘ died for our sins,’ because sin, our sin, was so evil a thing, and is now ‘exalted to give repentance and forgiveness of sins.’ Ah, brethren, this is one of the great soul-destroyers,—this pride of self-rghteousness. To the chief priests and elders of the people, who ‘trusted in themselves that they were righteous,’ Jesus said, ‘Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and harlots go into the kingdom of God before you,’—and this, plainly, simply because these were more open to the sense of sin, and to the conviction that ‘the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world,’ was the very Saviour for them. You see that cordial faith in Christ as the Saviour of sinners—of those who merit God’s wrath, and are utterly unable to deliver themselves —is in the fullest sense a sacrifice, a surrender of something which the carnal heart reckons very precious.

But yet once more,—faith in Christ is a sacrifice, because it involves venunciation of the pride of self-will, To a spirit of arrogant determination to continue sinning, to persist in following our own will instead of submitting to God’s, the gospel, if at all understood, must be an object of intense dislike; for every thoughtful mind feels that, whatever else the cross may mean, it certainly intimates God’s hatred of sin, so that no one can accept salvation through Christ without being led thereby to strive against sin. A religion of decency is popular; but a religion which searches the thoughts and intents of the heart, and has for its aim to purify and elevate these, is hateful to the carnal mind,—and such a religion is Christianity. No man can look at Christ upon the cross without seeing the eyes of the Son of God— eyes that are as a flame of fire’-—penetrating, burning into his very soul. Our depraved hearts have much ingenuity in explaining away truth, and making it powerless ; but wherever the doctrine of Christ is apprehended and believed in its fulness, a stable barrier is thereby raised up in the way of

wilful violation of the law of God. The unconverted gospel hearer feels instinctively that, if he were steadily to contemplate the truth that ‘Christ Jesus gave Himself for us, to redeem us from all iniquity,’ he could not be at ease in sin. He feels that faith in Christ is a root from which, inevitably, devotion of life to the service of Christ will spring. Therefore, if he be resolved to cleave to sin, he will, as far as he can, avoid thinking of Christ with anything like fulness or candour, lest he should be led into faith in Him. He will choose the darkness rather than the light, mainly because he does not want to see the cross, and those deep, pathetic, penetrating eyes of the Divine Sufferer, in which shines, indeed, ineffable love to sinners, but absolute and everlasting hatred of sin.

Considering then, brethren, how firm is the hold which these various forms of pride have on us by nature, and that Christian faith involves a renunciation of them all, you see how fitly chosen is the apostle’s language, when he speaks to the Philippians of the ‘ sacrifice of their faith.’

We must now look at the priestly ‘ service’ connected with the sacrifice. ‘The New Testament recognises but one priest in the strict sense of the word—the ‘ one Mediator between God and men,’ who, through His atoning sacrifice on Calvary, and His intercession in heaven, obtains acceptance for all them who come unto God by Him. In nothing does Popery more distinctly prove itself to be an antichrist, than by ascribing to its ministers the powers of the ‘one Mediator,’ the ‘ Priest for ever.’ But, by a figurative application of the name, Christians are sometimes in the New Testament represented as priests, in the general sense of persons solemnly, and by a sacred unction —the ‘unction from the Holy One’—set apart from the world for the service of God. Believers are ‘an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.’ Such a spiritual sacrifice was the ‘ faith’ which the Philippians presented to God. In speaking of this faith, however, the apostle, as you see, introduces a variation of the ordinary figure, to bring out the relation which divine grace had constituted between him and them. His labours and prayers for them had been blessed by God to their conversion, and subsequent advancement in religious knowledge and vigour and happiness. Thus his work had been a kind of priestly service for them. Through the spiritual energy given them from heaven, they brought faith and love as a free-will offering to God ; and the apostle’s part in the work, his teachings and pleadings and prayers, in the retrospect of which from his prison in Rome his heart found much delight, might be said loosely to correspond with the priestly act of laying the offering on the altar. In his pleadings with them in God’s name, and in his pleadings for them with God in prayer, he stood, as it were, between them and God, doing in Christ a priest’s work. The apostle employs exactly the same image, in a yet more explicit way, in a passage in the Epistle to the Romans, where he speaks of ‘ the grace that was given to him of God, that he should be the minister of Jesus Christ to the Gentiles, ministering the gospel of God, that the offering up of the Gentiles might be acceptable, being sanctified by the Holy Ghost’ (Rom. xv. 15, 16).

Taking Paul as an example, then, you see, Christian brethren, how comprehensive is the work of him who, through the regenerating influence of the Holy Spirit, is anointed a priest unto God. He is called on to present on the altar his whole life, by serving God in personal holiness, and also striving earnestly to bring other men to the Lord, and to help onward his fellow-believers. Our duty is, first, like the Philippians, offering the faith of our minds and hearts, then to ‘ present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,’—then to consecrate to Him our social influence, and thus, if it please Him to give His blessing, doing, like Paul, priestly service to others. Observe that all this priestly work belongs as a duty to a// Christians. Each Philippian, as really and as fully as the apostle, was bound to seek the conversion and confirmation of

other souls, and thus ‘ present’ them to God. Ministers and other office-bearers in the church of Christ have peculiar opportunities and consequent responsibilities ; but their friesthood is only such as is common to all who, having been ‘called out of darkness into God’s marvellous light,’ are thus, most reasonably, set apart ‘to show forth His praises.’ The question of the carnal heart is that of Cain, ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ for the tendency of sin is ever to isolate men, and enwrap them in a robe of selfishness. But, Christian brethren, ‘this is the message which you and I have heard, that we should love one another,—not as Cain, who was of that wicked one, and slew his brother.’ Wherefore, ‘let him that heareth say, Come,’ remembering that ‘he which converteth a sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins.’ ‘They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.’

The apostle thought it not at all unlikely that the course of God’s providence might soon show it to be His will that he should close his ministerial relations to the Philippians and his other converts, by enduring a violent death. This would be, as it were, his ‘ deinmg offered,’ or ‘poured forth,’—the libation, or drink-offering, by which his ‘priestly service,’ connected with their ‘sacrifice of faith,’ should be completed. ‘If it be so, he says, ‘and vividly presenting to my mind the prospect, J joy. How sublime this is! How magnificent a proof of the sustaining power of Christian faith !—in some respects, perhaps, all the more impressive to a thoughtful mind, from the fact that the apostle was not at the time in immediate and definite anticipation of martyrdom. ‘That after all the fluctuations of thought and feeling regarding possible escape are over, after a servant of Christ is condemned to death for conscience’ sake, and sees the scaffold or the stake now certainly before him, he should be calm, cheerful, thankful and happy,—this bears most

stirring testimony to the Saviour’s grace. But to hear, as we do in this passage, a man of transcendent truthfulness, eminently accurate in his knowledge of his own heart, and careful in his choice of language, telling us—while he is still busily occupied with his Master’s work—while a violent death, though far from improbable, is still an uncertainty, and therefore he has not as yet been called to rally all the energies of the new nature to support him at the one point of awful trial,—‘ If I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy,—the evidence given here of the general sustaining power of faith seems to me almost more striking than that afforded in the other case. William Tyndale, the grandest figure, perhaps, take him all in all, of the English Reformation—a man of Pauline strength of character and singleness of devotion to the work which God had given him to do—suffered martyrdom in circumstances of such seclusion that we know scarcely anything more than the mere fact. But noinformation of his demeanour in the dungeon of Vilvorde could possibly either tell us more of his character, or speak more weightily for Christ to any one who has ears to hear, than these words, written years before, in his Preface to The Parable of the Wicked Mammon,—‘ Some man will ask, peradventure, why I take the labour to make this work, inasmuch as they will burn it, seeing they burned the gospel. I answer, In burning the New Testament they did none other thing than that I looked for; πὸ more shall they do if they burn me also, if it be God’s will it shall so be. JVevertheless, in translating the New Testament I did my duty, and so do I now, and we// do as much more as God hath ordained me to do.’

The sources of Christian ‘ joy,’ in the anticipation of martyrdom, are twofold. One is the confident hope of being introduced by death into heavenly blessedness and glory,— for the martyr a blessedness peculiarly exquisite, and a glory peculiarly sublime, seeing that ‘it is a faithful saying, If we suffer, we shall also reign with Him.’ In a passage familiar to

δ ie Πα * VER. 18.] Foy in Prospect of Martyrdom. 197 us all, and written very shortly before his death, Paul explicitly sets forth the supporting power of the hope of heaven,—‘ I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day.’ He knew that the executioner could do nothing~ except to the body, and that the same stroke of the sword by which the body was mutilated, would set the spirit free to go to ‘be with Christ.’ Another source of joy, even richer and deeper than this, for the believer who looks forward to his being ‘ offered,’ is the knowledge that, in many ways, glory will accrue to God from the martyrdom. Paul felt well assured that thereby ‘ Christ would be magnified.’ The Greeks of old delighted to tell how Phidippides—fleetest of foot among his countrymen—having borne himself gallantly in the great fight at Marathon, darted from the field immediately after victory was secure, ran to Athens, related his tidings to the Fathers of the city, closing with the words, ‘ Rejoice ye, as we rejoice,’ and then, utterly exhausted by wounds and toil, fell down dead before them. The entire sinking of the thought or care of self in joy over the safety and glory of his native land was very beautiful. Yet the noblest feelings which arise out of any of the relations of man to what is earthly and visible, make but a feeble approach to the grandeur of spirit of him who ‘joys’ to think of dying a cruel death, that the unseen God, the God whom he knows by faith only, may thereby be glorified. Paul believed that ‘ out of the eater would come forth meat ; and out of the strong, sweetness,’-—that from the place of his martyrdom there would exhale a rich fragrance of Christ, which would bring spiritual joy to many souls ;—and therefore he would gladly ‘endure all things for the elect’s sake, that they also might obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory.’

He has something more to say, however, in the verse before us, regarding feelings connected with his martyrdom: ‘I joy,

and I congratulate you all, —for this seems to be the force of the expression rendered in our version, ‘ rejoice with you all? ‘ For the same cause, he continues, ‘ joy ye also, and congratulate me.’ He would have his friends, as well as himself, to enter so fully into oneness of spirit with Christ—so perfectly to subordinate their earthly affections to their love for their Saviour, and interest in His cause—as to esteem the death of their spiritual father, in a way which would signally magnify Christ, as a source of joy. He ‘congratulates’ them, and would have them ‘rejoice,’ and by, in their turn, ‘ congratulating him,’ stir him up to still higher joy. ‘ Think, dear friends,’ he says, if we may expand the thought a little, ‘ of the wide-spread conviction which may be produced in Rome of the truth of our religion, by the sight of such composure and elevation of spirit as I know God’s grace will enable me to exhibit in dying,— think of the chariot of fire and horses of fire which the eye of faith can see hovering over the scene of blood, to bear the martyr home,—think of the blessedness which awaits me yonder. Would your love desire to keep me back from usefulness and from happiness like this? Is it not reasonable that I should congratulate you, whose souls are so precious in Christ’s sight, that for your sakes, for your furtherance in wisdom and holiness, He exposes even His apostles to sufferings and death,—and that you should congratulate me on the privilege of being called to die in the service of Him who died for me?’ Ah, brethren, this was a very difficult task which the apostle imposed on the loving Philippians. They could well understand how, when ‘devout men carried Stephen to his burial,’ they ‘made great lamentation over him;’ but Paul’s teaching that, in such a case, the voice of ‘joy’ should mingle with the ‘lamentation’ of nature, and ring out more loudly and clearly than the voice of .sorrow, must have seemed to them ‘an hard saying.’ The prospect of losing him who had been Christ’s messenger to them, to lead them into peace, and whose life seemed so needful for the confirmation and ex-

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pe sar to them a very gloomy one. At the a ‘

They could hear no angels singing, See no brightness through the cloud.’

But gradually, we may believe, they attained at least to τ sure of spirit in view of this bereavement,—to chi acquiescence in their Father’s will. Growth in faith made ‘hard saying’ more intelligible. They came to unders hat, through divine grace, it is a possible thing for a bereaved even amid the deepest natural sorrow from the sense of personal loss, to look up to God with profoundest thankful- _ ‘ All things are possible to him that believeth,’