The Man of sorrows.
We feel that there is but One of our race to whom this title properly belongs; One who may wear it as a crown upon his brow, inasmuch as his sorrows do him higher honour than the most conspicuous success ever conferred on human spirit. It does belong to him, not in virtue of the fact that his outward career involved more cruel hardships than those ever borne before; but in virtue of the fact that his spirit was such as to make his endurance more grievous than that ever experienced by man. It was Jesus Christ's capacity of sorrow that made all the difference. Capacity to endure rises with the greatness of the spiritual nature; the larger the nature, the greater the possibility and likelihood of suffering. When, therefore, we remember that Jesus Christ, as a perfect Man, had the fullest and keenest possible sensibility of nature, and when we remember that the Divine was so associated in him with the human as immeasurably to deepen and enlarge every faculty of his soul, we shall see that his capacity of sorrow was almost boundless.
I. THE SOURCES OF HIS SORROW. These were, among others:
1. The failure on the part of his own best friends to understand and appreciate him. "They who knew him best could hardly be said to know him;" they entered only a very little way into his purpose, and could not sympathize with him in his deeper disappointments; "he trod the wine-press alone." But for his Father's presence he often was absolutely alone (John 16:32).
2. The frailty and even the treachery of his disciples. Those who followed him and called him Master had but little care for his truth or love for himself. In a moment of simple perplexity of mind they fell away from him, and abandoned his cause (John 6:66). One of his disciples grieved his spirit by distinct denial, and another pierced his heart by utter and open treachery.
3. The malignity of his enemies. There are men who do not care that their brethren whose confidence they have tried to win are cherishing toward them the bitterest hatred; not such was he of the tender heart and loving spirit.
4. The rejection of the people. He was rejected of men. Several men and women, in most places whither he went, may have flocked to hear him; and the common people heard him gladly, we know. But he had to acknowledge to himself that his principles made no way, that his truth was not apprehended and loved, that citizens did not enrol themselves in his spiritual kingdom.
5. The near presence of human suffering and sorrow. By partaking of our humanity as he did, Jesus came into the closest contact with the pains, the privations, the deformities, the diseases, and the sorrows of mankind. And by the power of an intense and living sympathy he made these his own (Matthew 8:17; John 11:33, John 11:35). He bore them on his own heart; they weighed upon his spirit as a heavy burden.
6. A deep sense of human sin,culminating in a sacrifice for it. If the near presence of sorrow grieved and troubled him, how much more that of human sin in all its forms! With our lesser purity, we cannot tell how painful to his heart was the sight of all the selfishness, hypocrisy, greed, worldliness, malignity, corruption which he beheld, most of it affecting the language and the bearing of devotion. Yet with all these sources of sorrow, there were not wanting—
II. SPRINGS OF SACRED JOY IN THE HEART AND LIFE OF OUR LORD.
1. Unbroken communion with the heavenly Father.
2. The sincere attachment of many who, though they were imperfect disciples, yet trusted and loved him as their Teacher and Friend.
3. The gratitude of many whom he healed, and the deeper gratitude of many whom he saved.
4. The consciousness of faithful fulfilment of his great mission.
5. A calm, profound assurance of victory through death and shame (John 12:24, John 12:32). In the heart of the Man of sorrows were deep springs of joy, such as they who wounded him and triumphed over him knew not of. In our case, as in his, there may be the light of a blessed peace and even of heavenly joy in a soul that moves under darkest skies through a clouded life.—C.
The Divine account of the sufferings of Christ.
In these words, which remain ever fresh and sacred, though they are so familiar to our hearts, we have—
I. A SAD AND STRIKING PICTURE. It is the picture of the Servant of the Lord, wounded, bruised, chastened, stricken. We cannot fail to see in it the sufferings of the holy Saviour. We see him:
1. Wounded in body; not only a-hungered and athirst, not only weary with long-continued labours and without the promise of the soft pillow. of rest when the day was done, but suffering, beyond this, the laying on him the hard, rough hand of a brutal soldiery, the cruel smiting and scourging, the piercing of hand and foot with the remorseless nail, the pains and pangs of crucifixion. But beyond this, immeasurably more serious and more severe than this, we see him:
2. Wounded in spirit; bruised in soul by the shortcoming, the inconstancy, even the treachery of his own friends, by the superficiality and frailty of the outer band of his disciples, by the intense and inappeasable malignity of his enemies, by the sight of sickness and sorrow, by the pressure and burden of human sin; all this weight of evil crushing his holy and tender spirit.
II. A NATURAL BUT A FALSE CONCLUSION. "We did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted," i.e. on account of his own sins. It was natural that men should think thus; there are facts which go to support though they do not justify it.
1. It is true that sin and suffering are very closely and causally connected. All sinners are, as such, sufferers.
2. It is true that, as a rule, great sinners are great sufferers. It was not accidental that Antiochus Epiphanes, Herod the Great, Philip II. of Spain, and other men, who, like them, committed enormities of wrong-doing, endured terrible pains of body and fearful remorse of spirit. But it does not follow that a very great sufferer is a very great sinner. For it is also true
III. THE DIVINE ACCOUNT OF IT. "Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows … he was wounded for our transgressions," etc. But is it credible or is it even possible that the innocent One would or could suffer for us the guilty ones? Why not? Being such a One as he is—the pitiful, compassionate, magnanimous One, it is exactly what we might expect he would do.
1. Involuntarily, we are continually bearing one another's griefs. One sins and another suffers, beneath every sky and from generation to generation.
2. Voluntarily we suffer in one another's stead. The father willingly suffers and strives that his son may not endure all the threatened consequences of his guilty folly; the mother eagerly endures greatest privations that her daughter may be spared the dishonour which is her due; the friend gladly shares, halves the trouble, the anxiety, the loss, into which his old companion has fallen. Just as men are magnanimous and noble-minded, so do they carry the sorrows of their fellows, so are they willingly wounded and bruised for the transgressions of their kindred and their friends. And if we, being evil, will do this, how much more our Father who is in heaven! if we, whose thoughts and ways are so comparatively low, how much more he whose thoughts and whose ways are as much higher than ours as the heavens are higher than the earth! It is just the very thing we should look for from the heavenly Father.
IV. THE PRACTICAL CONCLUSION. That we should, by a living faith in the Divine Redeemer, avail ourselves of the work he wrought when he suffered for us. Otherwise we shall not know the peace and rest of heart which he came to secure us.—C.