The Spurgeon Series 1859 & 1860. Charles H. Spurgeon
was a priest. But the wounds are there: then there is a sacrifice, and there is a priest also, for he who is wounded is both himself, the sacrifice and the priest. The priesthood of Melchizedek is a glorious subject. He who reads that with the eye of faith, and is blessed with the Spirit, will find much cause for joy when he contrasts the priesthood of Christ with that of Aaron. The priesthood of Aaron began, and it finished; but the priesthood of Melchizedek had no beginning, and it had no end. He was, we are told, “Without beginning of days, and without end of years”; without father, without mother, without descent. Such is the priesthood of Christ. It shall never end. He himself is without beginning, and his priesthood is without end. When the last ransomed soul is brought in, when there shall be no more prayers to offer, Christ shall still be a priest. Though he has no sacrifice now to slay, for he is the sacrifice himself, “once for all”; yet still he is a priest, and when all his people as the result of that sacrifice shall be assembled around his glorious throne, he shall still be the priest. “For you are a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.” I take it that this is a further reason why he still bears his wounds in heaven.
12. There is another and a terrible reason why Christ still wears his wounds. It is this. Christ is coming to judge the world. Christ has with himself today the accusers of his enemies. Every time that Christ lifts his hands to heaven, the men who hate him, or despise him, are accused. The Jewish nation is brought in guilty every day. The cry is remembered, “His blood be on us and on our children”; and the sin of casting Christ away, and rejecting him, is brought before the mind of the Most High. And when Christ shall come a second time to judge the world in righteousness, seated on the great white throne, that hand of his shall be the terror of the universe. “They shall look on him whom they have pierced,” and they shall mourn for their sins. They would not mourn with hopeful penitence in time; they shall mourn with sorrowful remorse throughout eternity. When the multitude are gathered together, when in the valley of Jehoshaphat Christ shall judge the nations, what need is there to summon accusers? His own wounds are his witnesses. Why would he need to summon any to convict men of sin? His own side bears their handiwork. You murderers, did you not do this? You sons of an evil generation did you not pierce the Saviour? Did you not nail him to the tree? Behold these holes in my hand, and this stab wound in my side; these are swift witnesses against you to condemn you! Then there is a terrible side to this question. A crucified Christ with his wounds still open will be a terrible sight for an assembled universe. “Well,” but one of my congregation says, “What is that to us? We have not crucified the Saviour.” No; but let me assure you that his blood shall be on you. If you die unbelievers his blood shall be required at your hand. The death of Christ was brought about by the hand of manhood, of all and entire manhood. Others did it for you, and though you gave no consent verbally, yet you give assent to it in your heart every day. As long as you hate Christ you give assent to his death. As long as you reject his sacrifice, and despise his love, you give evidence in your hearts that you would have crucified the Lord of glory had you been there. No, and you do yourself, as far as you can, crucify him afresh and put him to an open shame. When you laugh at his people, when you despise his word, and mock at his ordinances, you are driving nails into his hands, and thrusting the spear into his side; therefore those open hands and that pierced side shall be witnesses against you, even against you, if you die rejecting him, and enter into eternity enemies to Christ by wicked works.
13. I think I have thus supplied several excellent reasons. But now there is one more which I shall offer for your consideration before I come to the lesson which you shall learn. Christ wears those marks in his hands that, as believers, you may never forget that he has died. We shall need, perhaps, nothing to refresh our memories in heaven; but still, even if we should, we have it here. When we shall have been in heaven many a thousand years we shall still have the death of Christ before us, we shall see him reigning. But can you not conceive that the presence of the wounded Christ will often stir up the holy hearts of the celestial beings to a fresh outpouring of their grateful songs? They begin the song thus, “To him who lives.” Jesus looks upon them and shows his hand; and they add, “and was dead, and is alive for evermore, and has the keys of hell and death.” They would not forget that he died; but certainly that part of the song where it said, “and was dead,” will have all the more sweetness, because there he sits with the very marks of his passion — with the nail prints of his crucifixion. If we shall be in heaven at all constituted as we are on earth, we shall need some visible token to keep us continually in remembrance. Here, you know, the most spiritual saint needs the bread and wine — sweet emblems of the Saviour’s body. There we shall have nothing to do with emblems, for we shall have the sight of him. And I say, if we are in heaven anything like what we are here, I can imagine that the presence of Jesus may be highly beneficial, may be gloriously precious to the saints in reviving their love continually, and causing their hearts, which are like fountains of love, to bubble up afresh, and send out again the living water of gratitude and thanksgiving. At any rate, I know this thought is very delightful to me, that I shall see the man who hung on Calvary’s cross, and that I shall see him as he hung there. I delight to see my Saviour in all the glories of his Father, but I long to go back and see him as he was, as well as, as he is. I think I should sometimes envy Peter and the rest of them that they should have seen him crucified. Yes, I should say, I see him glorified, but you saw the most marvellous sight. To see a God is an everyday sight with glorified beings, but to see a God covered with his blood, this is an extraordinary thing. To see Christ glorified, that we may see each day, but to have seen him on that special occasion, made obedient to death, even to the death of the cross, that was an extraordinary sight which even angels themselves could see only once. You and I cannot see that. But those wounds are there still obvious and visible, and we shall be delighted with the rapturous sight of the Lord in glory, with his wounds still fresh upon him. May the Lord grant that we may all be there to see it. May we refresh ourselves with that glorious sight. I can say that I would part with all the joys of sense to view his face. Everything that is good on earth I would give away without a wish, without one single lingering thought, if I might only behold his face, and lie in his bosom, and see the dear pierced hands and the wide open side. We must wait for this pleasure. A few more rolling suns shall do it. The moon shall rise and wane for us a few more times, and then
We shall see his face,
And never, never sin,
But from the rivers of his grace,
Drink endless pleasures in.
14. III. This brings me now to the third point. WHAT DOES CHRIST MEAN BY SHOWING TO US HIS HANDS AND FEET?
15. He means this: that suffering is absolutely necessary. Christ is the head, and his people are the members. If suffering could have been avoided, surely our glorious Head ought to have escaped; but inasmuch as he shows us his wounds, it is to tell us, that we shall have wounds too. Innocence ought to escape suffering. Did not Pilate mean as much when be said, “I find no fault in him, therefore let him go?” But innocence did not escape suffering. Even the Captain of our salvation must be made perfect through suffering; therefore, we who are guilty, we who are far from being perfect, must not wonder that we have to be wounded too. Shall the head be crowned with thorns, and do you imagine that the other members of the body are to be rocked upon the dainty lap of ease? Must Jesus Christ swim through seas of his own blood to win the crown, and are you and I to walk to heaven dryshod in silver slippers? No; the wounds of Christ are to teach us that suffering is necessary. In fact, that doctrine was taught upon Mount Calvary. There are only three sorts of men that have ever lived — a good man, a bad man, and the God-man. Now, on Calvary’s cross, I see three characters; I see the thief, the representative of the bad; I see the penitent thief, the representative of the righteous; and I see the God-man in the midst. All three must suffer. Do not imagine, for a moment, that wicked men get through this world without suffering. Oh, no. The path to hell is very rough, though it seems smooth. When men will damn themselves, they will not find it a very pleasurable task. The cutting of the throat of one’s soul is not such a pleasant operation. The drinking of the poison of damnation is not, after all, an enviable task. The path of the sinner may seem to be happy; but it is not. It is a gilded deceit. He knows there is bitterness in his heart, even here on earth. Even the wicked must suffer. But, note, if any out of the world