Street Meeting Thirteenth

Our text for the beloved saints this day was drawn from the seventeenth chapter of the Gospel of Luke, specifically the first ten verses. Here, we were brought to consider how impossible a thing it is, from a mere human standpoint, to forgive a brother without harboring the least resentment in the soul. When we reached the fourth verse, we felt the weight of that most difficult command: that even should a brother trespass against us seven times in a single day, we must forgive him.

Luke 17:1-10

Repeated offenses within a single day! Could we truly cast the memory of a grievous wrong aside in the span of one year, much less one day? The bitterness of a wounded spirit too often lingers; it festers within the natural mind—that fallen nature which seeks its own justice—and haunts the conscience of even the most devout believer should the breach be deep and lasting. How much more is this trespass enlarged when the offense involves those closest to us! When the hurt involves our own kin and beloved, the heart cries out for retribution, not for peace.

Truly, the disciples felt the same failing of heart as we do, for they were moved to cry out, "Lord, Increase our faith!" While such charity is beyond the reach of our own fallen nature, that which is impossible with man is made possible through faith in a gracious God. Here, the Lord answers not with a literal truth, but with a monumental truth. We are told that with faith, nothing is impossible. Yet, hear: this does not mean that the act of forgiveness flows from us as naturally the moment we believe. No. Our own strength is but dry ground. We find the power to forgive only when we turn our gaze away from our wounds and look upward—beholding how God, through the precious sacrifice of Christ, has forgiven a debtor as poor and wretched as ourselves. 

How true it is that the heart of man, so naturally inclined to bitterness, is only softened when he looks upon the Cross. A man is truly able to forgive his neighbor’s offense wholeheartedly only when he has first tasted the sweetness of his own pardon. When we realize the mountain of debt that the Lord has cleared from our own account, how can we withhold a few pence of mercy from those who would do us wrong? It is the experience of being washed in His blood that teaches us to extend the same hand of peace to those who have trespassed against us.

It is forgiveness, not time, that heals all wounds.

But how, one might ask, is a poor soul to know if he has truly forgiven his fellow-creature from the heart? It is not found merely in avoiding his company, nor in the simple forgetting of the matter. The memory may fade while the poison remains. Nay. 

The only time you know you have truly forgiven the person, is when you find it in your heart to sincerely seek to do him good. 

When the soul desires to return kindness for injury and blessing for reproach, then—and only then—can we be certain that the old man has been put aside and the Spirit has taken his place. When you sincerely pray for his welfare and desire his blessing as you do your own, you reflect the very heart of Christ. This is what God did to us. He returned good, for our evil. 

Onward, the saints likewise found more spiritual meat in the very message we bring before the people this day. Our meditations were drawn from that same sacred book and chapter—that portion of Holy Writ wherein Christ Jesus, didst heal the ten lepers.

Luke 17:11-19

Let us observe. These poor souls believed in what the Lord could accomplish, and they lifted their petitions openly before everyone. Desperation oft drive the soul to do what it would never dare do in comfortable times. When afflictions rise high, a man is moved to deeds and supplications that his pride would, in calmer hours, utterly disown. Yet, the answer of the Lord would seem passing strange to us of this present age. He did not rebuke the leprosy with a word, nor did He grant healing upon where they stood. Neither did He bid them seek the care of a physician. No. He issued a command: go and show yourselves unto the priests. This was a further witness against the hard-hearted contentions of the Pharisees, that they might behold the fruits of His power and believe He was their promised Messiah, even while they sought to deny Him. Had the lepers lingered there to question the strangeness of the command with the reasonings of the mind, they would have never been healed. It was only in the very path of obedience—that their flesh was made whole.

Perhaps this is the very reason why so many petitions in our own day seem to fall upon a silent heaven, leading the unbelieving soul to imagine that the Almighty looks down with indifference. We set conditions and question, before we obey—if we even know what to obey at all. Let us be plain: the fault lies not with the gracious Giver, but with the one who asks. We ourselves build the walls that bar the outstretching hand of God from our lives; we fashion them stone by stone from the secret sins and worldly attachments we harbor within—those very things which He, in His mercy, has commanded us to lay at the foot of the Cross. Sin, by its very nature, draws a dark veil across the heavens and hides from us the countenance of the thrice holy God (Isaiah 59:2). Like a thick cloud that covers the midday sun, our unconfessed transgressions cast a shadow upon the soul, severing that sweet communion for which we were created.

Herein is the very marrow of the matter. The absence of burdens too often breeds in us a thankless spirit, for the human heart is, by its very nature, proud. Its highest care is the preservation of self, not the denial of it; it seeks its own comfort and guards its own welfare above all else. It wants only to take, not give. Of the ten who were cleansed, none but a single soul walked back, after an already great distance, to cast himself at the feet of Jesus in humble thankfulness. Mark this well: he was not of the chosen house of Israel, but a stranger—a Samaritan—one despised and cast out by the world. Perchance the remaining nine deemed it sufficient merely to obey the command, or perhaps their spirits were so eager to return to the comforts of society that they merely lifted their faces to heaven and said thanks. 

Alas, our own hearts are full of such subtle excuses to spare us from the inconveniences of devotion. It was a journey of considerable distance to reach the priests who were their ticket to society's acceptance; why, then, should they return only to offer praise in person, when they can simply look up to heaven, and whisper a heartfelt thanks. After all, was it not the Lord Himself who bade them go forward? To the carnal mind, it seems entirely justifiable to save oneself the trouble, yet in so doing, like the nine who simply went their way, we miss the goodness of the Savior’s blessing.

We see then what far greater grace the one who made an effort to return, received for his thanksgiving: The cleansing of the flesh was but the outward sign of a far more glorious work within; for in his humble adoration to the Master,  he found that peace which the world can neither give nor take away. Not only was his body healed, but his soul was made whole as well (Luke 17:19).

We know all too well—indeed, we cannot deny it—that we often seek the Lord only when our own strength has failed. Like a thankless child who reveres his parents only when his pockets are empty, we turn to God only after people have failed us, and we have exhausted every other hope.

We find ourselves sustained by a thousand mercies for which we never even thought to plead. There are many, many things essential to our very life and breath that we do not need to ask of the Lord, yet He, in His sovereign care, provides them all the same. We are too often unmindful of those common mercies that we enjoy unbidden. Every breath of air that fills our lungs, every beat of the heart within our breast, every healing of a wound—all these are the silent work of His power. We do not ask to wake upon the morrow, yet we lay us down to sleep without concern. We do not ask for the sun to rise, yet it greets our eyes each morning; we do not command the evening shadows to fall, yet He vouchsafes us the quiet of the setting sun for our repose. In these, and a thousand-thousand wonders besides, we are upheld by a Love that provides even when our own lips are silent. Yet, in these common things, how seldom do we render back our poor thanksgiving. 

We owe God more than thanksgiving with our mouth. We owe Him a debt of gratitude with our life. 

Truly, He anticipates our needs before they ever pass our lips, watching over His children with a kindness that never slumbers. We are such short-sighted creatures, yet how sweet it is to trust that even when the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, denies us our earthly desires, He does so as a loving Father. Every closed door is still a blessing, for His hand is ever guided by a love that seeks only our eternal good.

We shall ever find more cause for praise in what we already possess than be anxious for the things we think we lack. How humbling it is to contemplate the silent workings of divine providence. The Lord God does not deal solely with us in our small affairs that already overwhelm us; nay, the whole of this creation, both the world we see and that which we do not see, is continually sustained by His immeasurable power. From the greatest star in the heavens to the tiniest creature walking upon our skin, nothing is left to chance. All things consist by His Word, and were He to withdraw His hand for but a moment, all would surely cease. How small we feel, yet how secure, to be held by the same hand that upholds the very pillars of the universe.

For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers: all things were created by him, and for him: And he is before all things, and by him all things consist.
Colossians 1:16-17

We often lift our petitions without truly believing that He will hear us. And because we believe little, we ask little, and expect even less then little. Yet, let it be known that the Lord does not only answer the prayers of His faithful—He finds His very delight in doing so! To ask rightly, one must believe. God is glorified in those who believe.

Instead of pleading for the fleeting things of this world (Matthew 6:31-32) which must eventually perish, we ought to seek Christ Himself, whom the Father will never deny to any seeking soul (Matthew 6:33). Christ is the crown jewel—the very treasure of Heaven, and the Father is only too pleased to bestow Him upon those who ask. He as our King holds out the golden scepter to all who enter His courts with praise and thanksgiving; He shall never cast away a single soul. Truly, no man who ever put his trust in God was sent away ashamed.

In all our asking, let us offer up our hearts in joyful praise and thanksgiving (Ephesians 5:20). Truly, He anticipates our needs before they ever pass our lips, watching over His children with a kindness that never slumbers. 

Thus we bring to a close our thirteenth street meeting. May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.