atonement having been made. They have, indeed, some shadowy idea of atonement, that Christ died just as a matter of form to satisfy justice; but as to any literal taking away of our sins, and suffering the actual penalty for us, they do not consider that God’s law requires any such thing. I suppose they do not, for I never hear them assert the positive satisfaction and substitution of our Lord Jesus Christ. But, without that, how can we take away the strength of sin?
12. 1. The strength of sin is in the law, first, in this respect, that the law being spiritual it is quite impossible for us to live without sin. If the law were merely carnal and referred to the flesh, if it simply related to open and overt actions, I question even then, whether we could live without sin; but when I turn over the ten commandments and read, “You shall not covet,” I know it refers even to the wish of my heart. It is said, “You shall not commit adultery”; but it is said, also, that whoever looks on a woman to lust after her has already committed that sin. So that it is not merely the act, it is the thought; it is not the deed simply, it is the very imagination, that is a sin. Oh, now, sinner, how can you get rid of sin? Your very thoughts, the inward workings of your mind, these are crimes — this is guilt and desperate wickedness. Is there not, now, strength in sin? Has not the law put a potency in it? Has it not nerved sin with such a power that all your strength cannot hope to wipe away the black enormity of your transgression?
13. 2. Then, again, the law puts strength into sin in this respect — that it will not abate one tittle of its stern demands. It says to every man who breaks it, “I will not forgive you.” You hear people talk about God’s mercy. Now, if they do not believe in the Gospel they must be under the law; but where in the law do we read of mercy? If you will read the commandments through, there is a curse after them, but there is no provision made for pardon. The law itself does not speak of that; it thunders out, without the slightest mitigation, “the soul that sins it shall die.” If any of you desire to be saved by works, remember, one sin will spoil your righteousness; one speck of this earth’s dross will spoil the beauty of that perfect righteousness which God requires at your hands. If you would be saved by works, men and brethren, you must be as holy as the angels, you must be as pure and as immaculate as Jesus; for the law requires perfection, and nothing short of it; and God with unflinching vengeance, will strike every man low who cannot bring him a perfect obedience. If I cannot, when I come before his throne, plead a perfect righteousness as being mine, God will say, “You have not fulfilled the demands of my law; depart, accursed one! You have sinned, and you must die.” “Ah,” one says, “can we ever have a perfect righteousness, then?” Yes, I will tell you of that in the third point; thanks be to Christ, who gives us the victory through his blood and through his righteousness, who adorns us as a bride in her jewels, as a husband arrays his wife with ornaments.
14. 3. Yet again, the law gives strength to sin from the fact that for every transgression it will exact a punishment. The law never remits a farthing of debt: it says, “Sin — punishment.” They are linked together with adamantine chains; they are tied, and cannot be severed. The law does not speak of sin and mercy; mercy comes in the gospel. The law says, “Sin — die; transgress — be chastised; sin — hell.” Thus are they linked together. Once let me sin, and I may go to the foot of stern justice, and, as with blind eyes, she holds the scales. I may say, “Oh, Justice, remember, I was holy once; remember that on such and such an occasion I did keep the law.” “Yes,” says Justice, “all I owe you, you shall have; I will not punish you for what you have not done; but do you remember this crime, oh sinner?” and she puts in the heavy weight. The sinner trembles, and he cries, “But can you not forget that? Will you not cast it away?”; “No,” Justice says, and she puts in another weight. “Sinner, do you remember this crime?” “Oh,” says the sinner, “will you not for mercy’s sake — ?” “I will not have mercy,” says Justice; “Mercy has its own palace, but I have nothing to do with forgiveness here; mercy belongs to Christ. If you will be saved by justice you shall have your fill of it. If you come to me for salvation, I will not have mercy brought in to help me; she is not my vicegerent; I stand here alone without her.” And again, as she holds the scales, she puts in another iniquity, another crime, another enormous transgression; and each time the man begs and prays that he may have that passed by. Justice says, “No, I must exact the penalty; I have sworn I will, and I will. Can you find a substitute for yourself? If you can, there is the only rational I have for mercy. I will exact it from that substitute, but even from his hands I will have the utmost jot and tittle; I will abate nothing; I am God’s justice, stern and unflinching; I will not alter; I will not mitigate the penalty.” She still holds the scales. The plea is in vain. “Never will I change!” she cries; “bring me the blood, bring me the price to its utmost; count it down, or else, sinner, you shall die.”
15. Now, my friends, I ask you, if you consider the spirituality of the law, the perfection it requires, and its unflinching severity, are you prepared to take away the sting of death in your own person? Can you hope to overcome sin yourselves? Can you trust that by some righteous works you may yet cancel your guilt? If you think so, go, foolish one, go! Oh madman, go! work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, without the God that works in you; go, twist your rope of sand; go, build a pyramid of air; go, prepare a house with bubbles, and think it is to last for ever; but know, it will be a dream with an awful awakening, for as a dream when one awakes he will equally despise your image and your righteousness. “The strength of sin is the law.”
16. III. But now, in the last place, we have before us THE VICTORY OF FAITH. The Christian is the only champion who can strike the dragon of death; and even he cannot do it for himself, but when he has done it, he shall cry, “Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” One moment, and I will show you how the Christian can look upon death with complacency through the merits of Jesus Christ.
17. First, Christ has taken away the strength of sin in this respect, that he has removed the law. We are not under bondage, but under grace. Law is not our directing principle, grace is. Do not misunderstand me. The principle that I must do a thing — that is to say, the principle of law, “do, or be punished; do, or be rewarded,” is not the motive of the Christian’s life; his principle is grace: “God has done so much for me, what ought I to do for him?” We are not under the law in that sense, but under grace.
18. Then Christ has removed the law in this sense, that he has completely satisfied it. The law demands a perfect righteousness; Christ says, “Law, you have it; find fault with me. I am the sinner’s substitute, have I not kept your commandments? How have I violated your statutes?” “Come here, my beloved,” he says, and then he cries to Justice, “Find a fault in this man, I have put my robe upon him; I have washed him in my blood; I have cleansed him from his sin. All the past is gone; as for the future, I have secured it by sanctification; as for the penalty, I have borne it myself; at one tremendous draught of love, I have drunk that man’s destruction dry; I have borne what he should have suffered; I have endured the agonies he ought to have endured. Justice, have I not satisfied you? Did I not say upon the tree, and did you not agree with it, ‘It is finished! it is finished!’ Have I not made so complete an atonement that there is now no need for that man to die and expiate his guilt? Did I not complete the perfect righteousness of this poor once condemned but now, justified spirit?” “Yes,” Justice says, “I am well satisfied, and even more content, if possible, than if the sinner had brought a spotless righteousness of his own.” And now what says the Christian after this? Boldly he comes to the realms of death, and entering the gates there, he cries, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect!” And when he has said it, the dragon drops his sting, he descends into the grave; he passes by the place where fiends lie down in fetters of iron; he sees their chains, and looks into the dungeon where they dwell, and as he passes by the prison door, he shouts, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect!” They growl, and bite their iron bonds, and hiss in secret, but they cannot lay anything to his charge. Now see him mount aloft. He approaches God’s heaven, he comes before the gates, and faith still triumphantly
