Category: Devotions

We should notice, first, in this passage, what strifes and controversies our Lord occasioned when He was on earth. We read that “there was a division among the Jews for His sayings,”–and that “many of them said He hath a devil, and is mad,” while others took an opposite view. It may seem strange, at first sight, that He who came to preach peace between God and man should be the cause of contention. But herein were His own words literally fulfilled: “I came not to send peace, but a sword.” (Matt. 10:34) The fault was not in Christ or His doctrine, but in the carnal mind of His Jewish hearers.

These verses show us, for one thing, the great object for which Christ came into the world. He says, I have come that men “might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”

The truth contained in these words is of vast importance. They supply an antidote to many crude and unsound notions which are abroad in the world. Christ did not come to be only a teacher of new morality, or an example of holiness and self-denial, or a founder of new ceremonies, as some have vainly asserted. He left heaven, and dwelt for thirty-three years on earth for far higher ends than these. He came to procure eternal life for man, by the price of His own vicarious death. He came to be a mighty fountain of spiritual life for all mankind, to which sinners coming by faith might drink; and, drinking, might live for evermore. By Moses came laws, rules, ordinances, ceremonies. By Christ came grace, truth, and eternal life.

The chapter we have now begun is closely connected with the preceding one. The parable before us was spoken with direct reference to the blind teachers of the Jewish Church. The Scribes and Pharisees were the persons our Lord had in view, when He described the false shepherd. The very men who had just said “We see,” were denounced with holy boldness, as “thieves and robbers.”

We have, for one thing, in these verses, a vivid picture of a false teacher of religion. Our Lord says that he is one who “enters not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbs up some other way.”

We see in these verses how much wiser the poor sometimes are than the rich. The man whom our Lord healed of his blindness was evidently a person of very humble condition. It is written that he was one who “sat and begged.” (See v. 8) Yet he saw things which the proud rulers of the Jews could not see, and would not receive. He saw in our Lord’s miracle an unanswerable proof of our Lord’s divine commission. “If this Man were not of God,” he cries, “He could do nothing.” In fact, from the day of his cure his position was completely altered. He had eyes, and the Pharisees were blind.

These verses show us how little the Jews of our Lord’s time understood the right use of the Sabbath day. We read that some of the Pharisees found fault because a blind man was miraculously healed on the Sabbath. They said, “This man is not of God, because He keepeth not the Sabbath day.” A good work had manifestly been done to a helpless fellow-creature. A heavy bodily infirmity had been removed. A mighty act of mercy had been performed. But the blind-hearted enemies of Christ could see no beauty in the act. They called it a breach of the Fourth Commandment!

These would-be wise men completely mistook the intention of the Sabbath. They did not see that it was “made for man,” and meant for the good of man’s body, mind, and soul. It was a day to be set apart from others, no doubt, and to be carefully sanctified and kept holy. But its sanctification was never intended to prevent works of necessity and acts of mercy. To heal a sick man was no breach of the Sabbath day. In finding fault with our Lord for so doing, the Jews only exposed their ignorance of their own law. They had forgotten that it is as great a sin to add to a commandment, as to take it away.

The chapter we now begin records one of the few great works of Christ which John has reported. It tells us how our Lord gave sight to a man who had been “blind from his birth.” Here, as elsewhere in this Gospel, we find the circumstances of the miracle narrated with peculiar fullness, minuteness, and particularity. Here too, as elsewhere, we find the narrative rich in spiritual lessons.

We should observe, first, in this passage, how much sorrow sin has brought into the world. A sorrowful case is brought before us. We are told of a man “who was blind from his birth.” A more serious affliction can hardly be conceived. Of all the bodily crosses that can be laid on man, without taking away life, none perhaps is greater than the loss of sight. It cuts us off from some of the greatest enjoyments of life. It shuts us up within a narrow world of our own. It makes us painfully helpless and dependent on others. In fact, until men lose their eyesight, they never fully realize its value.

We should observe, first, in this passage, what blasphemous and slanderous language was addressed to our Lord by His enemies. We read that the Jews “said unto Him, Say we not well that Thou art a Samaritan, and hast a devil?” Silenced in argument, these wicked men resorted to personal abuse. To lose temper, and call names, is a common sign of a defeated cause.

Nicknames, insulting epithets, and violent language, are favourite weapons with the devil. When other means of carrying on his warfare fail, he stirs up his servants to smite with the tongue. Grievous indeed are the sufferings which the saints of God have had to endure from the tongue in every age. Their characters have been slandered. Evil reports have been circulated about them. Lying stories have been diligently invented, and greedily swallowed, about their conduct. No wonder that David said, “Deliver my soul, O Lord, from lying lips, and from a deceitful tongue.” (Psalm 120:2)

There are things taught in this passage of Scripture which are peculiarly truth for the times. Well would it be for the Churches if all Christians would ponder carefully the matter which it contains.

We are taught for one thing the ignorant self-righteousness of the natural man. We find the Jews pluming themselves on their natural descent from Abraham, as if that must needs cover all deficiencies: “Abraham is our father.” We find them going even further than this, and claiming to be God’s special favourites and God’s own family: “We have one Father, even God.” They forgot that fleshly relationship to Abraham was useless, unless they shared Abraham’s grace. They forgot that God’s choice of their father to be head of a favoured nation, was never meant to carry salvation to the children, unless they walked in their father’s footsteps. All this in their blind self-conceit they refused to see. “We are Jews. We are God’s children. We are the true Church. We are in the covenant. We must be all right.” This was their whole argument!

These verses show us, for one thing, the importance of steady perseverance in Christ’s service. There were many, it seems, at this particular period, who professed to believe on our Lord, and expressed a desire to become His disciples. There is nothing to show that they had true faith. They appear to have acted under the influence of temporary excitement, without considering what they were doing. And to them our Lord addresses this instructive warning: “If ye continue in My word, then are ye My disciples indeed.”

This sentence contains a mine of wisdom. To make a beginning in religious life is comparatively easy. Not a few mixed motives assist us. The love of novelty, the praise of well-meaning but imprudent professors, the secret self-satisfaction of feeling “how good I am,” the universal excitement attending a new position,–all these things combine to aid the young beginner. Aided by them he begins to run the race that leads to heaven, lays aside many bad habits, takes up many good ones, has many comfortable frames and feelings, and gets on swimmingly for a time. But when the newness of his position is past and gone, when the freshness of his feelings is rubbed off and lost, when the world and the devil begin to pull hard at him, when the weakness of his own heart begins to appear,–then it is that he finds out the real difficulties of vital Christianity. Then it is that he discovers the deep wisdom of our Lord’s saying now before us. It is not beginning, but “continuing” a religious profession, that is the test of true grace.

This passage contains deep things, so deep that we have no line to fathom them. As we read it we should call to mind the Psalmist’s words: “Thy thoughts are very deep.” (Psalm 92:5) But it also contains, in the opening verses, some things which are clear, plain, and unmistakable. To these let us give our attention and root them firmly in our hearts.

We learn, for one thing, that it is possible to seek Christ in vain. Our Lord says to the unbelieving Jews, “Ye shall seek Me, and shall die in your sins.” He meant, by these words, that the Jews would one day seek Him in vain.

The lesson before us is a very painful one. That such a Saviour as the Lord Jesus, so full of love, so willing to save, should ever be sought “in vain,” is a sorrowful thought. Yet so it is! A man may have many religious feelings about Christ, without any saving religion. Sickness, sudden affliction, the fear of death, the failure of usual sources of comfort,–all these causes may draw out of a man a good deal of “religiousness.” Under the immediate pressure of these he may say his prayers fervently, exhibit a strong spiritual feelings, and profess for a season to “seek Christ,” and be a different man. And yet all this time his heart may never be touched at all! Take away the peculiar circumstances that affected him, and he may possibly return at once to his old ways. He sought Christ “in vain,” because he sought Him from false motives, and not with his whole heart.