SECTION II, CROSS-BEARING, THE LAW OF DISCIPLESHIP
Matt. xvi. 24-28; Mark viii. 34-38; Luke ix. 23-27.
After one hard announcement, comes another not
less hard. The Lord Jesus has told His disciples that He must one day be put to
death; He now tells them, that as it fares with Him, so it must fare with them
also. The second announcement was naturally occasioned by the way in which the
first had been received. Peter had said, and all had felt, "This shall not be
unto Thee." Jesus replies in effect, "Say you so? I tell you that not only
shall I, your Master, be crucified,--for such will be the manner of my
death,[12.13--but ye too, faithfully following me, shall most certainly have
your crosses to bear. 'If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and
take up his cross, and follow me.' "
The second announcement was not, like the first,
made to the twelve only. This we might infer from the terms of the
announcement, which are general, even if we had not been informed, as we are by
Mark and Luke, that before making it Jesus called the people unto Him, with His
disciples, and spake in the hearing of them all.[12.14] The doctrine here
taught, therefore, is for all Christians in all ages: not for apostles only,
but for the humblest disciples; not for priests or preachers, but for the laity
as well; not for monks living in cloisters, but for men living and working in
the outside world. The King and Head of the church here proclaims a universal
law binding on all His subjects, requiring all to bear a cross in fellowship
with Himself.
We are not told how the second announcement was
received by those who heard it, and particularly by the twelve. We can believe,
however, that to Peter and his brethren it sounded less harsh than the first,
and seemed, at least theoretically, more acceptable. Common experience might
teach them that crosses, however unpleasant to flesh and blood, were
nevertheless things that might be looked for in the lot of mere men. But what
had Christ the Son of God to do with crosses? Ought He not to be exempt from
the sufferings and indignities of ordinary mortals? If not, of what avail was
His divine Sonship? In short, the difficulty for the twelve was probably, not
that the servant should be no better than the Master, but that the Master
should be no better than the servant.
Our perplexity, on the other hand, is apt to be
just the reverse of this. Familiar with the doctrine that Jesus died on the
cross in our room, we are apt to wonder what occasion there can be for our
bearing a cross. If He suffered for us vicariously, what need, we are ready to
inquire, for suffering on our part likewise? We need to be reminded that
Christ's sufferings, while in some respects peculiar, are in other respects
common to Him with all in whom His spirit abides; that while, as redemptive,
His death stands alone, as suffering for righteousness' sake it is but the
highest instance of a universal law, according to which all who live a true
godly life must suffer hardship in a false evil world.[12.15] And it is very
observable that Jesus took a most effectual method of keeping this truth
prominently before the mind of His followers in all ages, by proclaiming it
with great emphasis on the first occasion on which He plainly announced that He
Himself was to die, giving it, in fact, as the first lesson on the doctrine of
His death: the first of four to be found in the Gospels.[12.16] Thereby He in
effect declared that only such as were willing to be crucified with Him should
be saved by His death; nay, that willingness to bear a cross was indispensable
to the right understanding of the doctrine of salvation through Him. It is as
if above the door of the school in which the mystery of redemption was to be
taught, He had inscribed the legend: Let no man who is unwilling to deny
himself, and take up his cross, enter here.
In this great law of discipleship the cross
signifies not merely the external penalty of death, but all troubles that come
on those who earnestly endeavor to live as Jesus lived in this world, and in
consequence of that endeavor. Many and various are the afflictions of the
righteous, differing in kind and degree, according to times and circumstances,
and the callings and stations of individuals. For the righteous One, who died
not only by the unjust, but for them, the appointed cup was filled with all
possible ingredients of shame and pain, mingled together in the highest degree
of bitterness. Not a few of His most honored servants have come very near their
Master in the manner and measure of their afflictions for His sake, and have
indeed drunk of His cup, and been baptized with His bloody baptism. But for the
rank and file of the Christian host the hardships to be endured are ordinarily
less severe, the cross to be borne less heavy. For one the cross may be the
calumnies of lying lips, "which speak grievous things proudly and
contemptuously against the righteous;" for another, failure to attain the
much-worshipped idol success in life, so often reached by unholy means not
available for a man who has a conscience; for a third, mere isolation and
solitariness of spirit amid uncongenial, unsympathetic neighbors, not minded to
live soberly, righteously, and godly, and not loving those who do so live.
The cross, therefore, is not the same for all.
But that there is a cross of some shape for all true disciples is clearly
implied in the words: "If any one will come after me, let him deny himself, and
take up his cross." The plain meaning of these words is, that there is no
following Jesus on any other terms--a doctrine which, however clearly taught in
the Gospel, spurious Christians are unwilling to believe and resolute to deny.
They take the edge off their Lord's statement by explaining that it applies
only to certain critical times, happily very different from their own; or that
if it has some reference to all times, it is only applicable to such as are
called to play a prominent part in public affairs as leaders of opinion,
pioneers of progress, prophets denouncing the vices of the age, and uttering
unwelcome oracles,--a proverbially dangerous occupation, as the Greek poet
testified who said: "Apollo alone should prophesy, for he fears nobody."[12.17]
To maintain that all who would live devoutly in Christ Jesus must suffer
somehow, is, they think, to take too gloomy and morose a view of the wickedness
of the world, or too high and exacting a view of the Christian life. The
righteousness which in ordinary times involves a cross is in their view folly
and fanaticism. It is speaking when one should be silent, meddling in matters
with which one has no concern; in a word, it is being righteous overmuch. Such
thoughts as these, expressed or unexpressed, are sure to prevail extensively
when religious profession is common. The fact that fidelity involves a cross,
as also the fact that Christ was crucified just because He was righteous, are
well understood by Christians when they are a suffering minority, as in
primitive ages. But these truths are much lost sight of in peaceful, prosperous
times. Then you shall find many holding most sound views of the cross Christ
bore for them, but sadly ignorant concerning the cross they themselves have to
bear in fellowship with Christ. Of this cross they are determined to know
nothing. What it can mean, or whence it can come, they cannot comprehend;
though had they the true spirit of self-denial required of disciples by Christ,
they might find it for themselves in their daily life, in their business, in
their home, nay, in their own heart, and have no need to seek for it in the
ends of the earth, or to manufacture artificial crosses out of ascetic
austerities.
To the law of the cross Jesus annexed three
reasons designed to make the obeying of it easier, by showing disciples that,
in rendering obedience to the stern requirement, they attend to their own true
interest. Each reason is introduced by a "For."
The first reason is: "For whosoever will save his
life shall lose it; but whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find
it." In this startling paradox the word "life" is used in a double sense. In
the first clause of each member of the sentence it signifies natural life, with
all the adjuncts that make it pleasant and enjoyable; in the second, it means
the spiritual life of a renewed soul. The deep, pregnant saying may therefore
be thus expanded and paraphrased: Whosoever will save, i.e., make it his first
business to save or preserve, his natural life and worldly wellbeing, shall
lose the higher life, the life indeed; and whosoever is willing to lose his
natural life for my sake shall find the true eternal life. According to this
maxim we must lose something, it is not possible to live without sacrifice of
some kind; the only question being what shall be sacrificed--the lower or the
higher life, animal happiness or spiritual blessedness. If we choose the
higher, we must be prepared to deny ourselves and take up our cross, though the
actual amount of the loss we are called on to bear may be small; for godliness
is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, as well
as of that which is to come.[12.18] If, on the other hand, we choose the lower,
and resolve to have it at all hazards, we must inevitably lose the higher. The
soul's life, and all the imperishable goods of the soul,--righteousness,
godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness,[12.19--are the price we pay for
worldly enjoyment.
This price is too great: and that is what Jesus
next told His hearers as the second persuasive to cross-bearing. "For what," He
went on to ask, "is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world, and lose
his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" The two
questions set forth the incomparable value of the soul on both sides of a
commercial transaction. The soul, or life, in the true sense of the
word,[12.20] is too dear a price to pay even for the whole world, not to say
for that small portion of it which falls to the lot of any one individual. He
who gains the world at such a cost is a loser by the bargain. On the other
hand, the whole world is too small, yea, an utterly inadequate price, to pay
for the ransom of the soul once lost. What shall a man give in exchange for the
priceless thing he has foolishly bartered away? "Wherewith shall I come before
the Lord, and bow myself before the high God? shall I come before Him with
burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old? will the Lord be pleased with
thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil? shall I give my
firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my
soul?"[12.21] No! O man; not any of these things, nor any thing else thou hast
to give; not the fruit of thy merchandise, not ten thousands of pounds
sterling. Thou canst not buy back thy soul, which thou hast bartered for the
world, with all that thou hast of the world. The redemption of the soul is
indeed precious; it cannot be delivered from the bondage of sin by corruptible
things, such as silver and gold: the attempt to purchase pardon and peace and
life that way can only make thy case more hopeless, and add to thy
condemnation.
The appeal contained in these solemn questions
comes home with irresistible force to all who are in their right mind. Such
feel that no outward good can be compared in value to having a "saved soul,"
i.e. being a right-minded Christian man. All, however, are not so minded.
Multitudes account their souls of very small value indeed. Judas sold his soul
for thirty pieces of silver; and not a few who probably deem themselves better
that he would part with theirs for the most paltry worldly advantage. The great
ambition of the million is to be happy as animals, not to be blessed as
"saved," noble-spirited, sanctified men. "Who will show us any good?" is that
which the many say. "Give us health, wealth, houses, lands, honors, and we care
not for righteousness, either imputed or personal, peace of conscience, joy in
the Holy Ghost. These may be good also in their way, and if one could have them
along with the other, without trouble or sacrifice, it were perhaps well; but
we cannot consent, for their sakes, to deny ourselves any pleasure, or
voluntarily endure any hardship."
The third argument in favor of cross-bearing is
drawn from the second advent. "For the son of man shall come in the glory of
His Father, with His angels; and then shall He reward every man according to
his works."[12.22] These words suggest a contrast between the present and the
future state of the speaker, and imply a promise of a corresponding contrast
between the present and the future of His faithful followers. Now Jesus is the
Son of man, destined ere many weeks pass to be crucified at Jerusalem. At the
end of the days He will appear invested with the manifest glory of Messiah,
attended with a mighty host of ministering spirits; His reward for enduring the
cross, despising the shame. Then will He reward every man according to the
tenor of his present life. To the cross-bearers He will grant a crown of
righteousness; to the cross-spurners He will assign, as their due, shame and
everlasting contempt. Stern doctrine, distasteful to the modern mind on various
grounds, specially on these two: because it sets before us alternatives in the
life beyond, and because it seeks to propagate heroic virtue by hope of reward,
instead of exhibiting virtue as its own reward. As to the former, the
alternative of the promised reward is certainly a great mystery and burden to
the spirit; but it is to be feared that an alternative is involved in any
earnest doctrine of moral distinctions or of human freedom and responsibility.
As to the other, Christians need not be afraid of degenerating into moral
vulgarity in Christ's company. There is no vulgarity or impurity in the virtue
which is sustained by the hope of eternal life. That hope is not selfishness,
but simply self-consistency. It is simply believing in the reality of the
kingdom for which you labor and suffer; involving, of course, the reality of
each individual Christian's interest therein, your own not excepted. And such
faith is necessary to heroism. For who would fight and suffer for a dream? What
patriot would risk his life for his country's cause who did not hope for the
restoration of her independence? And who but a pedant would say that the purity
of his patriotism was sullied, because his hope for the whole nation did not
exclude all reference to himself as an individual citizen? Equally necessary is
it that a Christian should believe in the kingdom of glory, and equally natural
and proper that he should cherish the hope of a personal share in its honors
and felicities. Where such faith and hope are not, little Christian heroism
will be found. For as an ancient Church Father said, "There is no certain work
where there is an uncertain reward."[12.23] Men cannot be heroes in doubt or
despair. They cannot struggle after perfection and a divine kingdom, sceptical
the while whether these things be more than devout imaginations, unrealizable
ideals. In such a mood they will take things easy, and make secular happiness
their chief concern.[12.24]