Street Meeting Seventeenth

Luke 18:9-14

Our message for this seventh week of our second set of street meetings finds us gathered once more in the open air (after every sixth public gathering we meet indoors on the seventh, for the sake of the sheepfold). After an admonition to always pray and not lose hope, we are brought to that portion of holy Scripture following, where the parable of the proud Pharisee and the grieving Publican is narrated by no less than our Blessed Lord Himself. 

The Master did not speak this to all but unto "certain others," pointedly at those who "trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others." (Luke 18:9) Observe, the folly of self-conceit. It is said that two men went up to the Temple to pray—a holy errand, indeed—but one among them utterly forgot his business. The parable begins with the oration of the Pharisee (It is a most miserable greatness that requires the ruin of another's reputation to sustain itself). The Pharisee measured himself above reproach against the assumed failings of his neighbor. He looked down upon the poor Publican standing at the back, and used that man’s social standing as a footstool for his own vanity. He addresses God, but begins to pray with himself, "I thank Thee that I am not as this man," (Luke 18:11) believing that by mentioning the deplorable character of another, he had somehow drawn nearer to the gates of Heaven.

Instead of uttering his prayers, he stood before the Almighty to recite a ledger of his own virtues. He did not come to ask; he came to brag and affirm himself. He boasted of how incomparably different he was from the rest of God’s creatures. He looked upon the "others," in his pride, and deemed himself of a finer clay. He spoke as if the great Creator were somehow indebted to him for his outward shows of piety. 

Behold the outward show of this Pharisee, who fasts twice in the week, upon the Thursday and the Monday, and even gives a tenth of all his earthly possessions to the treasury. He counts every leaf and seed with a meticulous hand, yet his heart is as dead as the stone beneath his feet. 

Yet, mark how in another place, the Lord rebukes such hollow piety. "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone." (Matthew 23:23) The Savior looks past the tithe-bag and the fasting-face to see the withered soul, for a religion that keeps the rules but despises his fellow is no religion at all.

In the same picture stands the Publican, a man who has indeed wandered far, extorting money in the service of his own people's oppressors and bearing the stain of a life ill-lived. We see the distance between these two souls as they approached the sanctuary of the Most High. One stood boldly in the front, seeking out a prominent place where he might be seen and heard of men, making the holy house a stage for his own performance. He moved with a confidence that knew no trembling, as if the ground beneath him were his by right of his own merit. The other, however, can hardly force himself to enter the Temple at all. He lingers at the back, feeling himself utterly unworthy to even look up to heaven, and step upon such hallowed ground, for fear of desecrating it with his own filthiness. He can only wish to partake of the benefits of the high priest's sacrifice for sin. To his eyes, the very stones of the Temple cry out in holiness, and he shrinks back, overwhelmed by the misery of his transgressions.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
Psalm 51:17

What a lesson is here for us. The man who thinks himself worthy of the front pew is often the one furthest from the heart of God, while he who feels he is too vile to even pass through the door is the very one whom the Father is running to meet. It is the broken spirit, and not the bold stride, that finds the path to the altar of peace.

What unspeakable comfort it is to the downcast sinner that the Lord delights in mercy, and not in the mere sacrifice (Matthew 9:13). The Pharisee brought his "mint and anise," but he had room only for himself and none for God. The Publican brought nothing but a heart broken in pieces, and found that the Lord is a Master who heals the broken-hearted (Psalm 147:3). Let every soul here take courage, for though your sins be as scarlet, the Father seeks not the perfection of your deeds, but the sincerity of your need of Him. Those who sit themselves low before Him, will He move up and exalt before all (Luke 14:10).

How often do we, in our foolish haste, forget this one great truth: that all of us—the high-born and the lowly, the"good"in their fine linens and the"bad"in their tattered rags, yea, even the very beast of the field—draw our every breath from the same fountain of mercy. How often do we desire to feel righteous simply by finding someone we judge to be viler than ourselves? How wretched a thing it is when a man mistakes his own shadow for a mountain. We learn here, how the heart which seeks to put God in its debt is the heart most bankrupt of grace, though his prayers be long and loud.

Know that no man who boasts of himself will ever stand before the Almighty and continue in his boasting. The light of that infinite Holiness shall surely wither every green leaf of self-conceit, and the tongue that wagged with its own praises shall be struck silent. It is not the length of the petition nor the finery of the language that moves the heart of the Father, but the sincerity of a spirit that knows its own poverty. The man who brings nothing but his need finds everything in God, while he who brings his own "goodness" finds the gates of mercy barred by the very pride he cherished.

Behold, again, the scene at the Temple gates, for it is the very picture of our human condition. Two men went up to pray, or at least, in the eyes of Heaven, only one truly did so. The Pharisee went up not to petition the throne, but to affirm himself before the hearing of all men, and earn their admiration. His list of virtues was long and storied, yet in all he said, he revealed the most wretched poverty of all: he had need of nothing from God. He stood there clothed in the rags of his own righteousness, asking for no grace, seeking no pardon, and desiring no change. He treated the Almighty as a mere witness to his greatness rather than the Judge of his soul.

The publican’s words were few and short, for his heart was too heavy for speech, but he beat his breast continuously in a holy self-disgust. He asked for nothing but mercy, and in that cry, he owned himself to be truly as we all are—a poor, undone sinner. He did not look to his neighbor, for he was too occupied with the sight of his own depravity in the light of a Holy God.

Two men went up to pray, but how different was their return. One received nothing more than the fleeting and hollow applause of men. But the other who dared not lift his eyes, went down to his home justified, pardoned, by God Himself. He found that peace which passeth understanding (Philippians 4:7), for he had laid his burden at the feet of the only One who can truly exalt those who abase themselves.

To borrow the words of a divine, "Behold, the marvelous power of God’s grace in bringing forth good out of the very depths of evil. This publican had been a great and wandering sinner, yet out of the very greatness of his transgression was brought the greatness of his repentance, and the receiving of even greater grace; for the Lord took a man's shame and transformed it into a vessel of acceptable sorrow. See, on the contrary, the bringing forth evil out of that which is good. It was indeed a good and proper thing that the Pharisee was no extortioner, nor unjust in his dealings with men. These were virtues to be desired, yet the devil made the man proud of his own uprightness, to his ruin." 

Thus, we see, pride corrupts our religion, and doth make all our good works stink before God. We create our own snares when we become lost in the goodness of our own virtues. The publican’s sin drove him to the Savior, while the Pharisee’s goodness sank him only into his own vanity.  Let us beware of that subtle pride which turns our borrowed light into a reason for boasting, lest we find at the last that our "goodness" has barred the way to the throne of grace.

The skies gave us a season of space during our address; for though a light rain fell since morning, the clouds withheld their rains while the Word was proclaimed. Because of the gloomy weather, there was but a thin crowd gathered in the park, yet the brethren were present in good cheer, eager for the sweetness of Christian fellowship. They were fed first with an exposition of the sacred text, followed by a plain preaching from the same text before the people. Though the crowd was small in number, it was evident that the hand of the Lord was not shortened. Not a few souls were visibly arrested by the message of the Spirit, listening quietly and intently as if pierced by the truth of their own need. May it please the LORD to glorify His own great Name in the saving of souls and the judging of the proud.

He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.
Psalm 126:6 

When the labor was done, we broke bread together and shared a common meal, eventually turning homeward with hearts overflowing with thanksgiving. Even in the quiet of the evening family worship that followed, as we read from the sixty-fourth chapter of the prophet Isaiah, the Spirit of God met with us in solemn awe of His Word. What a merciful and mighty Father we have. 

I thank Thee, dear Father, for a safe and fruitful day. Only Thou knowest the true fruit of these seeds sown; may they spring up unto glory for thy Name.