Sermons of Christmas Evans

“The word of God is quick and powerful, sharper than a two-edged sword; piercing to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow; and discerning” – revealing – condemning – correcting – “the thoughts and intents of the heart.” It unlocks my soul, and sits upon its throne; an infallible judge over all my secret imaginations, purposes, and feelings; bringing them under its own perfect law; examining them in the light of spotless holiness, inflexible justice, and eternal truth. And when I shrink from the scrutiny, overwhelmed with a sense of my corruption, and confessing my guilt with a broken and contrite heart, then it speaks to me of the boundless love of God, and the infinite merit of Christ; and “a still small voice” directs my sight to the holy of holies; where I see, through the rent vail, the King of Zion, sitting upon his throne of grace, more glorious than the ancient Shekinah upon the mercy-seat. I approach with joyful confidence, and find him invested with my own nature, “God manifest in the flesh,” his royal garments red with sacrificial blood; and again I hear the still small voice – “Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace!” And when the dark mountains of tribulation rise up before me, I see their tops gilded with beams of love; and when I look into the valley of the shadow of death, I see it brightening with the footsteps of the Son of God; and when the soul sits solitary and dejected in her mortal prison, longing for the wings of a dove, that she may fly away and be at rest, she sees the eyes of her Deliverer looking through the crevices of the wall, and hears his voice at the grated window – “Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God!”

Thus the gospel commends itself to my conscience and my heart, as “the gospel of the blessed God.” But there is other, and if possible still stronger, proof of its divinity; namely, its power to renew the human soul, and reform the human character. The Earl of Rochester was a great skeptic, and one of the most witty and sarcastic men of his age. In his last sickness, he was reading the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah; where the prophet, in so graphic and touching a manner, describes the vicarious sufferings of Christ. It scattered all his deistical doubts, as the sun scatters the mist of the morning; led him with a broken and believing heart to the atoning Lamb of God; and converted his death-bed into a vestibule of heaven. This is not a solitary case. Thousands and millions have been, in like manner, awakened and converted through the gospel, and brought to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. It is “mighty through God, to the pulling down of strong-holds; casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God; and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ” – turning men from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive remission of sins, and an inheritance among all them that are sanctified through faith in Jesus. Matthew at the custom-house, the woman of Samaria at Jacob’s well, the dying malefactor upon the cross, the penitent jailor at Philippi, the blasphemous persecutor on the road to Damascus, and three thousand souls under Peter’s preaching at the Pentecost, all found it “the power of God unto salvation.” And still it retains its convincing and quickening virtue. Wherever it is proclaimed in its purity, and accompanied with the power of the Holy Ghost, proud and hardened sinners are pricked in their hearts, and forced to cry out – “Men and brethren, what must we do?” It answers the question. It points to the crucified and saith – “Believe and be saved!” It reconciles the enemy unto God. It makes the blasphemer a man of prayer, the sensualist a man of purity, the inebriate a man of sobriety; and where sin abounded, grace much more abounds. The dead whom Jesus quickened had no time to inquire into the mysterious process by which the work was wrought. They sprang instantly into life by the power of God. Yet the evidence of the change was clear and incontestible. So it is with the transforming effects of the gospel. We cannot rationally doubt its power to raise the soul from death in trespasses and sins. Suppose I have been long afflicted with a cancer, or have been bitten by a mad-dog, or a rattlesnake; and I find a sovereign and instantaneous remedy; but after I am cured, a skeptic calls upon me, and tries to convince me that the remedy is good for nothing, insists that it is a cheat lately invented by a villain, demands of me to prove that such things were used before the deluge, and asks me a thousand questions about the cure which Solomon could not answer; how can I look upon such a man as better than a maniac? I have tried the experiment, and found it successful; and all his pretended philosophical reasoning rings in my ears like a sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. The wisdom of men has invented many remedies for the guilt and the love of sin; but the vain philosophy of the world has never, like the gospel, restored a single soul to peace, purity, and happiness. I can truly say, after the most careful self-examination, and millions more can testify the same thing, that the gospel, in the hand of the Spirit of God, has subdued the love of sin, and quenched the fire of guilt within me; and has taken away the sting of death, and the terrors of the grave. If the infidel will allow that I am a sane man, and a man of truth, what farther proof does he want that this is “the gospel of the blessed God?”

Once more: The character of God, as exhibited in the gospel, is perfect, every way worthy of himself, infinitely above any original conception of the human mind. The gods of Homer and Virgil are cruel and revengeful. The god of Mohammed delights in pollution and crime. The god of Voltaire is a buffoon, and the god of Paine a tyrant. But the gospel represents the Deity in his true character, as the concentration and the fountain of all moral excellence.

All this evidence of the Divine authority of the gospel is corroborated by an overwhelming array of external proof. It was certainly written by the men whose names it bears. They were men of irreproachable character. Their declarations were confirmed by the testimony of miracles, and the fulfilment of prophecy. Jesus of Nazareth was crucified on Calvary, rose from the dead the third day, and ascended to heaven, according to the Scriptures. These were facts believed by the primitive Christians, and admitted by their enemies. They were received with the most perfect confidence by the immediate successors of the original witnesses; and farther corroborated by the testimony of neutrals, apostates, and the most inveterate opponents. The question therefore is settled; all is admitted that is necessary to prove that the Christian’s gospel is “the gospel of the blessed God.”

II. It is “the glorious gospel” – emphatically and pre-eminently glorious; and this is our second topic of discourse.

It is a wonderful exhibition of the glory of God – the most perfect revelation of the Divine attributes ever granted to man – displaying the sovereign mercy of the Father, in the gift of his beloved Son; the infinite compassion of Christ, in offering himself upon the cross for our sins; and the gracious power of the Holy Spirit, in turning us from darkness to light, and renewing us in righteousness and true holiness after the image of God.

But it is chiefly from a comparison of the gospel with the law, both in its dispensation and its character, that we see its transcendent glory. On this point let us fix our attention.

“The law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.” The ministration of the law brought the angels from heaven to earth, but the ministration of the gospel required the incarnation of the God of angels. The Mediator of the new covenant is Jehovah enshrined in humanity – “Emmanuel” – “God with us” – “God manifest in the flesh” – “the fulness of the Godhead,” that “filleth all in all,” imbodied and made visible in the lowly Son of David.

This is the foundation of the apostle’s argument, by which he convicts the despisers of the gospel of greater guilt than the transgressors of the law. “If the word spoken by angels” – that is, the law given upon Sinai – “was steadfast, and every transgression and disobedience received a just recompense of reward; how shall we escape” – we who have heard the glad tidings of the gospel – “if we neglect so great salvation; which at first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by them that heard him; God also bearing them witness, with signs, and wonders, and divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost?” If God is greater than man, then the gospel is greater than the law; and its superior excellence constitutes for it a superior claim upon our faith and our affections; and the strength of that claim graduates the guilt of its rejection. There is a fire more intense than that which flamed on Sinai, and a judgment more terrible than that of Korah and his confederates. “He that despised Moses’ law died without mercy, under two or three witnesses; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant an unholy thing, and hath done despite to the Spirit of grace!”

The ceremonial law contained many a type and shadow of Messiah; but the gospel is the history of his advent and mediatorial work. The ceremonial law pointed to the coming Prince of Peace; but the gospel brings him to his throne, and puts the crown upon his head. Christ is “the brightness of the Father’s glory, and the express image of his person;” and Moses and Aaron are lost in his light, as the moon and the stars in the blaze of the rising sun. The excellence of his person, the merit of his sacrifice, and the utility of his offices, give him an immense superiority. The many prophets, priests, and kings, of the former dispensation, were but the shadows cast by the one great Prophet, Priest, and King, which indicated his coming. A light arose from the cross of Calvary which turned the black cloud on Sinai into a pillar of glory.

Typical blood shielded the children of Israel from the arm of the destroying angel, healed the leper, anointed to holy offices, atoned for ceremonial sins, and sealed the covenant of God with his people; but never cancelled the sinner’s debt, nor satisfied his conscience, nor sanctified his affections, nor calmed his trembling spirit in the hour of death. All these blessings, however, flow from the blood of Christ – these, and infinitely more – more than tongue can tell, or heart conceive.

The gospel is emphatically the ministration of mercy – the covenant of grace, “ordered in all things and sure” – a goodly ship, freighted with the bread of life, and commanded by the Son of God, who has steered into the harbor of our famishing world, and is dispensing the precious provision to all who will accept. These arc “the sure mercies of David.”

The law is only a partial revelation of the Divine attributes, which, in the gospel, are all equally exhibited, and all equally glorified. Here, “Mercy and Truth are met together; Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other.” The justice of God looks more terrible at the cross of Christ than at the gate of hell; and is more glorified in the sufferings of his Son than in the eternal agonies of all the damned; while his mercy is more beautiful, because more honorable to his administration, than if sinners had been saved without an atonement.

Thus, while the law reveals the righteousness of God, the gospel brightens the revelation of his righteousness, and adds the revelation of his grace. While the law imprisons the sinner, the gospel liberates him, yet liberates him according to law. While the law shows the malignity of sin, and dooms the sinner to death, the gospel assents to both, but conquers the one and counteracts the other.

The law convinces us of our fall; the gospel assures us of our redemption. The law shows us what we are, and what we ought to be; the gospel tells us what we may become, and now the change must be effected. The law tears open our wounds; the gospel pours in the healing balm. The law makes known our duty; the gospel aids us to perform it. The law plunges us in the ditch; the gospel opens to us the purifying fountain. The law is a mirror in which we behold our own filthiness and deformity; the gospel is a mirror which reflects the glory of God in Christ, and transforms the believer into the same image.

The law has no fellowship with the sinner – offers no pardon to the sinner – cannot cure the love of sin in his heart – cannot give a spark of life, without perfect obedience, and full satisfaction for past offences. Therefore some accuse the law of cruelty – cannot set forth the superior glory of the gospel, without representing the law as a tyrant or a vagrant. But it is not the cruelty of the law, but the righteousness of the law, that condemns the sinner. This is the reason that it has no alms-house, nor city of refuge, in its dominion. Yet “the law is our schoolmaster, to bring us to Christ.” By convincing us of sin, it shows us our need of a Saviour. It meets the sinner on his way to hell, and drives him back to Calvary!

But the gospel is more glorious. It enters the sinner’s heart, and casts out the love of sin, and scourges the traffickers from the temple of God. It enters the prisoner’s cell, knocks off his fetters, and bids him go free. It descends into the valley of dry bones, makes the mouldering skeletons living men, and leads them to Mount Zion with songs of everlasting joy. It gives eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, feet to the lame, tongues to the dumb, health to the sick, life to the dead, and revives such as are fainting under the terrors of the law. It is “the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.”

The Moravian missionaries in Greenland preached several years on the great doctrines of natural religion, and the requirements of the moral law, without producing any visible reformation in their hearers; but under the very first sermon which exhibited “Jesus Christ and him crucified,” many were pricked in their hearts, and led effectually to repentance.

We have a striking illustration of the distinguishing glory of the gospel – its mercy – in the parable of the prodigal son. The young man, having received his portion from his Father, went into a far country, and spent all his substance in drunkenness and debauchery. Reduced to the last extremity of want, the proud young nobleman hired himself to a citizen of that country, and became a feeder of swine – the meanest employment to which a Jew could be degraded. On the very verge of starvation, we see him snatching the husks from the mouths of the detested animals to satisfy his hunger. Now he contrasts the present with the past. “My father’s house! O, my father’s house!” A trembling hope springs up in his bosom, “I will arise and go!” I see him coming, full of guilt and shame – halting – trembling – ready to turn back, or lie down by the wayside and die. While yet a great way off, the father beholds him – O, not with an eye of anger and revenge! and runs to meet him – O, not with a drawn sword, or an uplifted rod! He feels within him the yearning of a father’s heart, leaps to embrace the prodigal, and pours upon him a mingled shower of kisses and tears. Not a reproachful word is uttered – not the slightest censure – nothing but love. “Father, I have sinned! I am not worthy to be” – “Peace, my son! Servants, bring a robe, a ring, a pair of shoes; and haste to kill the fatted calf; and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive, was lost and is found!” “And they began to be merry.”

Such, my brethren, is the unspeakable mercy of the gospel, which constitutes its distinguishing glory. It is the law that creates the famine in the “far country” of sin. The poor prodigal goes about, begging for bread; but none will give him a crust, or a crumb. The desert of Mount Sinai is a poor country for a starving soul. There is no bread in all that region, and no toleration for beggars. If the sinner offers to work for any of the citizens – either for Mr. Holiness, or Mr. Justice, or Mr. Truth – he is sent into the fields to feed swine, till he is thoroughly convinced of the nakedness of the land, and the misery of his lot; and if he faints through famine or fatigue, and fails to perform his task, he is thrust into the house of correction, and placed upon the tread-wheel of remorse, till the ministers of mercy come to his relief. It is the gospel that whispers – “Return to thy father!” It is the gospel that inspires the hope of acceptance. It is the gospel that meets him with more than paternal welcome, and rains upon him the baptism of blessings and tears. It is the gospel that brings its robe of righteousness, and its ring of favour, and spreads its feast of joy, and calls the angels to merry-making “over one sinner that repenteth.”

O, the love of God! O, the riches of Christ! His salvation is more than a restoration to the joys of Eden. He came that we might have life, and that we might have it more abundantly. Where sin abounded under the law, grace hath much more abounded under the gospel. It is an ocean of blessings – “blessings of the heaven above, and of the deep that lieth under” – the blessings of Jacob, “prevailing above the blessings of his progenitors, unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills” – blessings which cannot be circumscribed by time, passing over the mountains which now divide us from the promised land, and flowing down on the other side into the pacific vales of immortality!

Such is “the glorious gospel of the blessed God.” You have seen the evidence of its divinity, and the peculiar excellence of its character. Suffer me to ask, do you believe its doctrines? do you obey its precepts? do you enjoy its blessings? do you delight in its promises? It commends itself every way to your faith, and your affections. It is worthy of all acceptation. It is the light of the world – walk ye in it! It is a feast for the soul – eat and be satisfied! It is a river of living water – drink and thirst no more!

How miserable is that man who rejects alike its evidences and its offers! How miserable in the hour of death! As Thistlewood said of himself, when on the drop at Newgate, he is “taking a leap in the dark!” How miserable in the day of judgment! God saith – “Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hands all the day long, and no man regarded; but ye have set at naught my counsel, and would none of my reproof; therefore I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh – when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind – when distress and anguish cometh upon you!”