Sermons: Selected from the Papers of the Late Rev. Clement Bailhache

Our conduct must be humble. This grace of humility must not only dwell in the inner spirit, but be manifested in our outer life. It is vain to come to the cross with the offer of a bending reason, a subdued will, and a broken heart, and then go out into the world intent on the accomplishment of our own purposes. If we are truly humble, we shall be seen to be so in the way in which we accept the teachings of events; in our reverent waiting for the signs of the Divine will; in the faithful, unreluctant fulfilment of the humblest duties; in our resignation to, and our acquiescence in, the trials and afflictive dispensations which come upon us. We often see this grace in its greatest beauty at the close of the most eminent lives. God’s most gifted men, as a rule, advance in humility as they grow in experience. They are like boughs that bend the lower the more fruit they bear. Like John the Baptist, they say, “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

This, then, is the disposition, and to it God makes a great promise. He will teach His way to the humble. This applies

To our knowledge of Divine truth. How uniformly have God’s truest witnesses upon earth consisted of men conspicuous for their lowliness of mind. It was to such that the Saviour was first announced and that He first came. Such were the people who listened to Him and accepted Him, whilst the “learned” and the “great” rejected Him. His apostles were humble men; and it has always been by the humble that the strong and the proud have, in the end, been vanquished. Every bright page in the history of the Church is a commentary on our text. To-day, in spite of the progress of thought in our world, we, in regard to the matters that belong to our spiritual life and salvation, have to sit as disciples at the feet of the humble men who themselves sat at the feet of the Divine Teacher who said, “Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” Our views of the truth as it is in Jesus may be modified and corrected; yet the pages of these same humble men are still the standard of our faith and of our teaching. Religious opinions change, not because we have gone beyond Paul and Peter and John, but because we understand them better. This is no plea, no apology, for mental weakness. On the contrary, pride is rather the characteristic of mental weakness and of ignorance than of mental strength and enlightenment. We may search, but we must remember that we always depend upon God for light. In religion the condition of the heart is the condition of knowledge. Proud, haughty, self-sufficient Saul of Tarsus had to be humbled before he could become Paul the Believer and the Apostle.

To the every-day dispensations of life. In this world we are the subjects of God’s discipline, and that discipline is for the most part mysterious. The course of events with us is often varied. We are subjected to vicissitudes of every kind – vicissitudes of thought, of impression, of feeling, and of experience. We are troubled in life, in heart, in the cultivation of Christian excellence, in the maintenance of life’s relationships, in the performance of duty. Whilst we try to bear in mind the glorious issues to which we are destined, we are often perplexed in our endeavours to ascertain how the discipline we are undergoing tends towards their realisation. We are puzzled by the prevalence of wickedness, by the disappointment of hopes, the apparent futility of many of our prayers; and we say, “I am blind, and the way in which I am walking is unknown to me.” Humility will help us to think that God has His own way among all these perplexities of ours, though we are unable to trace it. “All things work together for good to them that love God.”

God works not as man works, nor seesAs man sees, though we markOfttimes the moving of His handsBeneath the eternal Dark.* * * *And He who made both life and death,He knoweth which is best.We live to Him, we die to Him,And leave Him all the rest.

Thus the humble are taught trust, patience, resignation, obedience, peace of heart, and daily advancement in sanctification.

To our bearing towards others. Humility will qualify us cordially to recognise whatever worth they have, to show gentleness and charity to those among them who are faulty and weak, and thus will take us along a line of conduct which will lead to the strengthening of the bonds of brotherhood. “Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder. Yea, all of you be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility: for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble.” The word here rendered “Be clothed” occurs nowhere else in Scripture. It is borrowed from a piece of dress worn by servants when they were doing menial offices, which at once intimated their station, and fitted them for the performance of the duties attached to it. Remember that it is Peter who gives this advice – the Peter who in former days so often brought himself into trouble by his want of humility. Notice, too, the special point he now has in view. He is pleading for harmonious action in the Church, a result which can only be obtained by observing the law of voluntary subordination to established authority – an observance to which the habit of humility will most effectually contribute. Humility is one of the chief social and ecclesiastical virtues, through the medium of which God teaches us what is the attitude we are to maintain towards those who are around us.

To our Christian work. All the heroes of the faith in past times avowed their personal infirmities. Moses, David, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Peter, Paul – each, in one form or another, confessed: “When I am weak, then am I strong; I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me. I glory in mine infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” We must lay hold of this thought, for it alone can guard us against discouragement. As long as we depend on ourselves, God will break down our confidence by repeated failures; but when His wisdom has humbled us, His mercy will lift us up. Why should it not be so? We may well be humble in our work when we remember how far we are from being indispensable to God. He can work either with us or without us, as He pleases. It is His own order to achieve mighty moral results through the humblest instrumentalities; and frequently His independence of us is taught in a very striking way – as, for example, when He calls to Himself some great preacher, or some man who is doing wide-spread good, in the midst of his activity and his usefulness. Besides, we have no monopoly of any one gift of the Christian life – either as regards the gift itself or as regards the quality and extent of the service which it can be made to render. Others excel us in the very thing of which we are most proud. Many of our fellow Christians are doing the same kind of works as ourselves, only far better. And as to our “gifts,” let us not forget that they are gifts. We have “received” them; and why, then, should we boast as if we had not received them, but were ourselves the creators of them? Moreover, in proportion to our gifts, so is our responsibility, and “to whom much is given, of him shall much be required.” Have we used such gifts as we have as nobly as we might? Have we fallen into no needless errors, no selfishness, no half-heartedness? So then, while everything calls us to duty, there is much to fill us with contrition; and mingling fidelity and humility together, our exclusive confidence must be in God. This is the Divine way which the Divine Teacher teaches to the humble.

The Lord’s way. This is a beautiful and lovable expression. It links earth with heaven. There is a way which leads to God; a way in which God walks with us, and we with Him; a way that is peaceful here, while it leads to the land of rest above. We begin it in humility, confessing our sins at the cross, and accepting God’s mercy there. We end it before the throne, casting our crowns at the feet of Him who died to save us.

Hark! universal nature shook and groan’d,’Twas the last trumpet – see the Judge enthroned:Rouse all your courage at your utmost need,Now summon every virtue, stand and plead.What! silent? Is your boasting heard no more?That self-renouncing wisdom, learn’d before,Had shed immortal glories on your brow,That all your virtues cannot purchase now.All joy to the believer! He can speak,Trembling yet happy, confident yet meek.Since the dear hour that brought me to Thy foot,And cut up all my follies by the root,I never trusted in an arm but Thine,Nor hoped but in Thy righteousness divine:My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled,Were but the feeble efforts of a child;Howe’er perform’d, it was their brightest part,That they proceeded from a grateful heart:Cleansed in Thine own all purifying blood,Forgive their evil, and accept their good:I cast them at Thy feet, my only pleaIs what it was, dependence upon Thee:While struggling in the vale of tears below,That never failed, nor shall it fail me now.Angelic gratulations rend the skies,Pride falls unpitied never more to rise,Humility is crown’d, and Faith receives the prize.

VI.

THE GRATITUDE OF THE PARDONED

“Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.” – Luke vii. 47.

It has been observed that the Bible records with great minuteness events which a secular historian would deem beneath his notice, whilst, on the other hand, matters of great secular importance are passed over unmentioned. What ordinary historian would think of narrating such a story as the one we have in the verses before us? The Bible records it because it is a history of souls. To a Bible historian, the conversion of a soul is an event of unique sublimity, and everything that can illustrate it is felt to be a source of deepest interest. The history of outward events will pass into oblivion; the history of souls will be read in eternity.

The narrative before us is one of the most beautiful and touching in the gospel record. It was a saying of Gregory the Great: “Whenever I think of this story I am more inclined to weep over it than to preach upon it.” It is just the tale to prompt deep, quiet feeling rather than elaborate disquisition. It contains an illustration in real life of the old promise: “A bruised reed shall He not break, and the smoking flax shall He not quench.” It declares the Saviour’s matchless sympathy for the sinner, and the most broken-hearted sinner’s hope in Him. It teaches these lessons for all time, since in Christ and in His system of Redemption there can be no change. Let us look at the narrative somewhat closely, and may God help us to see in it Christ as the refuge of the lost, and the thankfulness to Him which must possess the soul whom He has saved. When we have said all we can, there will yet remain much more to be felt.

Before I proceed, however, let me say that this narrative must not be confounded with another which is in many respects like it, and which has been told by the other evangelists. In both cases, the name of the host is Simon, and in both a woman anoints the Lord Jesus, and wipes His feet with her hair. But the differences are numerous. In this case, the host is a Pharisee living in Galilee, and he looks on Christ with mistrust; in the other case, the host is a healed leper in Judea, bound to Christ by grateful love. In this case, the anointing proceeds from personal and grateful love, and has no other specialty of motive; in the other case, Jesus says: “Let her alone; against the day of my burying hath she kept this.” Here, Jesus is blamed by the Pharisee; there, the woman is blamed by the disciples. Pride is the root of Simon’s objection; the objection of the disciples springs from selfishness. Here a sinner is pardoned; there a disciple is honoured. Here, in all probability, the woman was Mary Magdalene; there, the woman was the sister of Lazarus.

We have no information as to the reason which induced this Pharisee to invite Christ to his house. The verse I have read as a text may obscurely hint to us, perhaps, that he himself had come under some obligation to Jesus, and not feeling any true gratitude, he thought he might acquit himself of his obligation by a compliment of this kind! Or the invitation may have sprung from curiosity, or from vanity, or from ambition. Possibly he may have wished to play the patron. Anyhow, we have no sign that he was urged by spiritual considerations. Many men come – if one might so say —locally near to Christ, who have no faith in Him, and no love for Him.

Neither have we any information as to the reason or reasons which induced Christ to accept this invitation. Several reasons might be imagined. He may have hoped, as the opportunity was specially favourable, to bring a blessing to the Pharisee’s heart. Men are never more open, or more submissive, or more susceptible to the word of love, than when they themselves are showing kindness in the form of the hospitalities of home and of the family circle. Perhaps, too, He may have felt that to decline the invitation would be to lay Himself open to an accusation on the part of the Pharisees that He neglected or spurned them, whilst He could put Himself in close communication with “publicans and sinners.” At any rate, we have here a beautiful instance of the self-denial of His love. He knew what awaited Him, and yet He went.

And now we have to notice that when Jesus had passed over the threshold of the Pharisee’s house the door was open to “a woman who was a sinner.” How was this? The simple and sufficient answer is that Jesus was there. Otherwise she would not have dared to enter within the perfumed respectability and sanctity of such a place. That would have been a terror to such a fallen one as she. But redeeming love had already begun its work upon her heart, so that she could come without misgiving, could enter with a holy confidence. When Christ appears, grace bears the sceptre, and the law loses its power to alarm.

We may take this incident, therefore, as a striking illustration of the spirit of Christ and of His true followers, as contrasted with Pharisaism in its suspiciousness, its blindness, its narrowness, and its ascetic scrupulosity.

The woman, probably under the pressure of gratitude for some act of compassionate love already received from Christ, is full of the holiest and tenderest emotions. In a fine, sacred humility, she weeps, and washes His feet with her tears. True tears they are, for they are the tears of penitence – and not of penitence only, but of thankfulness also. Confused and bewildered, perhaps, she wipes the feet on which they have fallen with her hair, and then kisses them, and anoints them with costly ointment! Such is the gratitude of the pardoned – deep, strong, irrepressible. And she expresses it in touchingly significant ways.

The woman’s action was distasteful to the Pharisee. The touch of a Gentile, or of a notoriously wicked person, was supposed to leave pollution behind it, and therefore by the Pharisees it was scrupulously avoided. Thus Simon had no understanding whatever of the scene before him. He had no eyes to see, no ears to hear, how the angels were filling heaven with the music of their joy over this poor sinner who had repented. A weak human virtue might be contaminated by contact with such an one as she had been; but not His who was the Christ of God. No doubt, apart from the sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit, apart from the strength which God imparts to the soul by His grace, a man does run the risk of polluting his morality by allowing it to be touched by the impure streams of his fellow-creatures’ vices. This has always been so fully recognised that we have a whole system of proverbial philosophy on the point. Christ, however, was perfect, and His purity was such that it could not incur this danger. Outward contact with “sinners” could bring no contamination to Him.

Simon took offence at the conduct of the woman, and began at once to indulge in dark, though unspoken, suspicions against Christ for permitting it. His suspicion took this form: “This man professes to be a prophet, and is regarded as a prophet by His followers. But surely, if He were a prophet, He would have known this woman’s character, and would have repelled her from Him, instead of permitting such demonstrations of affection as these.” Simon’s notion of a “prophet” was that he must possess at least two qualifications. (1) He must have a knowledge of the characters of the persons with whom He has to deal. On behalf of merely ordinary, human prophets, this was an exaggerated claim. To what prophet could Simon point who was able to read the heart? How did he know that Christ had ever seen this woman before? And on the supposition that He had not, on what ground could Simon demand that, in order to be entitled to the designation of a prophet, He should show an insight into her character at the commencement of the very first interview. Christ had the insight; but Simon felt constrained to doubt it for no other reason than that He did not instantly repel the woman from Him. (2) And so, in Simon’s judgment, the second qualification of a “prophet” consisted in such a moral exclusiveness as would forbid contact with sinners. He thought that, if Christ did know what manner of woman this was, His tolerance of her conduct at this time was sufficient proof that He could not be a good man, and was not, therefore, to be regarded as a prophet. A prophet’s sanctity would have forbidden such a scene as this. But again we ask, Whence could such a notion have sprung? Who among the “prophets” ever stood aloof from sinners? Was it not emphatically to sinners that they were sent?

Simon’s reasoning was full of sophistry, and the sophistry came from a defective heart. Had he known the nature of the Saviour’s mission – as one which demanded a perfect knowledge of all hearts, combined with grace, love, and power to save the worst – he might perhaps have felt and reasoned differently.

His thoughts were unspoken, but Christ divined them, and proceeded to deal with them. To the personal imputation He made no reply. It was a little thing to Him to be judged by man. It was sufficient for Him to aim at two points. One was to vindicate the woman on well-known principles, and the other, to lead the Pharisee to self-examination. With these two objects in view, He utters a parable, and applies it to the case in hand. The parable and its application are both marked by a mingled faithfulness and love. He makes Simon himself to be the judge in the case He describes, and on the basis of Simon’s own judgment He brings the practical point right home to the proud heart of the man. By a few sharp and striking contrasts, He shows that the woman, sinful as she has been, has manifested more love to Him than Simon Himself whose guest He is! Though a discredited stranger, she has done for Him what Simon, His host, had failed to do.

“Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee.”

“Master, say on.”

“There was a certain creditor, who had two debtors: the one owed him five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?”

“I suppose, he to whom he forgave most.”

“Thou hast rightly judged. Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house; thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.”

Having said this, Christ crowns His work of love by saying to the woman, “Thy sins are forgiven.”

Now in all this we have an explanation and a vindication of the grateful love to Christ which fills and animates the pardoned soul. This love is shown to us —

I. In its source. The grace of Christ in forgiving sins. Grace! How great! since it forgives all equally; the debtor who owes five hundred pence as well and as completely as the one who owes fifty – greater sinners and lesser sinners alike! For sinners of every grade there is but one relief, and that is Divine mercy – needed by those who have sinned least as well as by those who have sinned most, and equally sufficing for both. Grace! How free! since it forgives where no satisfaction can be made. “Nothing to pay;” such is the condition of every sinner before God. “Without money and without price;” such is God’s gracious invitation.

II. In its law. It is in the nature of things that love should beget love, and that the love thus originated should be measured by the extent of the favour which has been shown. “We love Him, because He first loved us.” Hence, love does not precede pardon, but is the fruit of it, and is proportioned to the sense of obligation. This doctrine, clear as it is, is not apprehended by all, and is even contradicted by some. The inveterate spirit of self-righteousness has made men say: “See this woman. By loving much she obtains the forgiveness of many sins.” This is palpably the reverse of Christ’s teaching in this case. Love to God can never be the growth of unrenewed and unforgiven hearts. “To whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.” This shows the true order: forgiveness and then love. So that love is no plea for pardon; Christ does not say, “Thy love hath saved thee,” but “thy faith.”

I love the Lord. He lent an earWhen I for help implored;He rescued me from all my fear;Therefore I love the Lord.

III. In its character. It is an all-absorbing feeling, which prompts the offering of the best gifts to the Saviour, and which fills such offerings with the spirit of devoutness, humility, and self-denial.

Two closing thoughts.

1. Men may be very near to the source of salvation and eternal life, without coming into the realisation of these blessings. In the outward sense, Christ was very near to this Pharisee and to his friends; but they did not perceive His spiritual power. They thought He was only a man like unto themselves; possibly, perhaps, on a somewhat higher plane of manhood, though many of them do not seem to have given Him credit even for that. His forgiveness was announced to this poor sinful, but contrite woman in their hearing; but the best effect it had upon them was to fill them with a dubious wonder, and to set them on questioning His authority. Near as they were to Him, they failed to see in Him, what “the woman who was a sinner” saw. Such is the position, practically, of multitudes to-day. Not, indeed, that their nearness to Christ is a local nearness, as in the case of those who were immediately around Him in the days of His flesh. They could look upon His outward form, could literally hear His voice. Not so now. But there is another nearness to Him which is moral and spiritual. We have His Word – the record of His life, the Divine repository of His teaching. We have the ordinances of His worship – ordinances by which His Word is brought more home to our understandings and hearts. We have the influences of His truth shed over all the scenes in which we move. The surface influences of Christianity modify and, to some extent, mould the whole of our social life. Moreover, Scripture takes account of the differences in human character. This woman, who was a sinner, and this Pharisee were not alike in their relation to Christ. There was one to whom He said, “Thou art not far from the kingdom of God.” Not far from it, and yet not in it. Are there no such cases now? All are sinners; but depravity is developed in much grosser forms in some than in others; and religious influences, which fall short of effecting a complete conversion, nevertheless often deter men from plunging into extreme vice. It is mournfully possible to be near to Christ, and yet not to come into the enjoyment of His salvation.

2. On the other hand, there are instances in which people obtain salvation who seem, as to character, farthest away from it. The case of this sinful woman is an illustration in point. We have no right to mitigate or to extenuate her guilt. Let it be recognised in all its dark completeness. As an actual sinner she had sunk very low. Her sin was against nature’s purest laws, and was of the kind that soon and effectually kills shame – one of the most fatal forms of sin, and declared to be such, not only by God’s law, but by the common consent of the universal conscience of the civilised world; a sin committed against the strongest restraints – the restraints of sacred womanhood; perhaps against the memory of the holy associations of childhood, a father’s tenderness, a mother’s love, and all the joy of a happy home. Such was this woman – “a bruised reed.” But she was brought to tears under a sense of Paradise lost, the tears of despair; and yet again to tears of joy under the sense of Paradise regained. How many more – far off as she – have been made nigh; treated by fellow sinners as the offscouring of the earth, yet drawn to the Saviour. They are brought to the cross; they repent, believe, are sanctified, and exult in the consciousness of eternal life. Constrained by the mercies of God, they yield themselves a living sacrifice to Him.