416. The Assassination

The Assassination

Luk_14:27 : ’93Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple.’94

The cross was a gibbet on which criminals were put to death. It was sometimes made in the shape of the letter T, sometimes in the shape of the letter X, sometimes in the shape of the letter I’97a simple upright; sometimes two cross-pieces against the perpendicular bar, so that upon the lower cross-piece the criminal partially sat. But whatever the style of cross, it was always disgraceful and always agonizing.

When Darius conquered Babylon he put two hundred captives to death on the cross. When Alexander conquered Tyre he put two thousand captives to death on the cross. So it was just an ordinary mode of punishment. But in all the forest of crosses on the hills and in the valleys of the earth there is one cross that attracts more attention than any other. It is not higher than the others; it is not made out of different wood; there is nothing peculiar in the place at which the two pieces are joined; and as to the scene, they witnessed crucifixions every few weeks; so that I see a reckless man walking about the hill, and kicking carelessly aside a skull, and wondering who the villain was that had so flat and misshapen a head; and here is another skull, and there on the hillside is another skull. Indeed, the Bible says it was ’93a place of skulls.’94 But about the victim on one of these crosses all ages are crying: ’93Who is he? Was he a man? Was he a God? Was he man and God?’94

Through the darkness of that gloomy day I come close up enough to the cross to see who it is. It is Jesus. How did he come there? Had he come up on the top of the hill to look off upon the beautiful landscape, or upon a brilliant sunset? No. he came there ill and exhausted. People sometimes wonder why Christ expired so quickly on the cross, in six or seven hours, while other victims have been on the cross for forty-eight hours before life was extinct. I will tell you the reason. He was exhausted when he came there. He had been scourged. We are horrified at the cruelties of the whipping-post, but those cruelties were mercy as compared with the scourging of Jesus Christ.

I saw at Antwerp a picture made by Rubens of the scourging of Jesus Christ. It was the most overmastering picture I ever looked at, or ever expect to see. As the long-frocked official opened the door that hid the picture, there he was’97Christ with back bent and bared. The flagellator stood with the upper teeth clenched over the lower lip, as though to give violence to the blows. There were the swollen shoulders of Christ. There were the black and blue ridges, denied even the relief of bleeding. There was the flesh adhering to the thongs as they were lifted. There were the marks where the knots in the whips gouged out the flesh. There stood the persecutor, with his foot on the calf of the leg of the Saviour, balancing himself. Oh! the furious and hellish look on those faces, grinning vengeance against the Son of God. The picture seized me, it overwhelmed me; it seemed as if it would kill me. I do not think I could have looked at it five minutes and have lived. But that, my friends, was before Christ had started for Calvary. That was only the whipping. Are you ready for your journey to the cross?

The carpenters have split the timber into two pieces. They are heavy and they are long pieces, for one of them must be fastened deep down in the earth lest the struggling of the victim upset the structure. They put this timber upon the shoulder of Christ very gradually, first, to see whether he can stand it, and after they find he can stand it, they put the whole weight upon him. Forward, now, to Calvary. The hooting and the yelling mob follow on. Under the weight of the cross, Christ being weary and sick, he stumbles and falls, and they jerk at his robe, indignant that he should have stumbled and fallen, and they cry: ’93Get up, get up!’94 Christ, putting one hand on the ground and the other hand on the cross, rises, looking into the face of Mary, his mother, for sympathy; but they tell her to stand back; it is no place for a woman’97’94Stand back and stop this crying.’94

Christ moves on with his burden upon his shoulders, and there is a boy that passes along with him, a boy holding a mallet and a few nails. I wonder what they are for. Christ moves on until the burden is so great he staggers and falls flat into the dust, and faints dead away, and a ruffian puts his foot on him and shakes him as he would a dead dog, while another ruffian looks down at him, wondering whether he has fainted away, or whether he is only pretending to faint away, and with jeer and contempt indescribable says: ’93Fainted, have you? fainted? get up, get on!’94 But he cannot get on. He is too weak to carry the load. What shall they do? The victim must be executed. They look around the crowd and they see a stalwart man among the spectators. They seize him and compel him to carry that load of lumber. His name preserved for the honor of future generations’97Simon, a Cyrenian, that is from Cyrene, a city of North Africa.

Now, they have arrived at the foot of the hill. Off with his clothes. Shall that loathsome mob look upon the unrobed body of Christ? Yes. The commanding officers say: ’93Unfasten the girdle, take off the coat, strip him.’94 The work is done. But bring the coat, for here are the gamblers tossing up coin on the ground, asking: ’93Who shall have the coat?’94 One ruffian says: ’93I have it, I have it’97it is mine!’94 He rolls it up and puts it under his arm, or he examines it to see what fabric it is made of. Then they put the cross upon the ground, and they stretch Christ upon it, and four or five men hold him down while they drive the spikes home, at every thump a groan, a groan! Alas! Alas! the hour passes on and the time comes when they must crucify him.

Christ has only one garment left now, a cap, a cap of thorns. It is of the ’93Spina Christi’94’97the plant known as ’93Christ’92s thorn.’94 No danger that it will fall off, for the sharp edges have punctured the temples and it is sure and fast. One ruffian takes hold of one end of the short beam of the cross, and another ruffian takes hold of the other end of the short beam of the cross, and another ruffian puts his arms around the waist of Christ, and another ruffian takes hold of the end of the long beam of the cross, and altogether they move on until they come to the hole digged in the earth, and with awful plunge it jars down with its burden of woe. It is not the picture of a Christ; it is not the statue of Christ, as you sometimes see in a cathedral; but it is the body of a bleeding, living, dying Christ. They sometimes say he had five wounds, but they have counted wrong. Two wounds for the hands, two wounds for the feet, one wound for the side: they say, five wounds. No; they have missed the worst and they have missed the most. Did you ever see the bramble out of which that crown of thorns was made? I saw one in the hands of a gentleman who had just returned from Palestine, a bramble just like that out of which the crown of thorns was made. Oh! how cruel and how stubborn were the thorns. And when that cap of thorns was put upon Christ, and it was pressed down upon him, not five pounds, but ten, twenty, thirty’97I cannot count them.

There were three or four absences that made that scene worse. First, there was the absence of water. The climate was hot; the fever, the inflammation, the nervous prostration, the gangrene, had seized upon him, and he terribly wanted water. His wounds were worse than gunshot fractures, and yet no water. A Turk, in the thirteenth century, was crucified on the bank of a river, so that the sight of the water might tantalize him. And oh! how the thirst of Christ must have tantalized, as he thought of the Euphrates and the Jordan and the Amazon and all the fountains of earth and Heaven poured out of his own hand. They offered him an intoxicating draught made out of wine and myrrh, but he declined it. He wanted to die sober. No water!

Then there was the absence of light. Darkness always exasperates trouble. I never shall forget the night in the summer of 1873, in the steamer Greece,mid-Atlantic, every moment expecting the steamer to go down. All the lights in the cabin were blown out. The captain came crawling in on his hands and knees, for he could not stand upright, so violently was the vessel pitching, and he cried out: ’93Light up, light up!’94 The steward said: ’93We can’92t light up; the candles are gone and the holders are gone.’94 The captain said: ’93I can’92t help that; light up!’94 The storm was awful when the lights were burning, worse when the lights went out.

Then there was the absence of faithful nurses. When you are ill, it is pleasant to have the head bathed, and the hands and feet rubbed. Look at the hands and feet of Christ; look at the face of Christ. There were women there who had cared for the sick, but none of them might come up near enough to help. There was Christ’92s mother, but she might not come up to help. They said: ’93Stand back, stand back; this is no place for you.’94 The high priests and the soldiers wanted it their own way; they had it their own way.

The hours pass on, and it is twelve o’92clock of the Saviour’92s suffering, and it is one o’92clock, and it is two o’92clock, and it is almost three o’92clock. Take the last look at that suffering face; wan and pinched, the purple lips drawn back against the teeth, the eyes red with weeping, and sunken as though grief had pushed them back; blackness under the lower lid, the whole body adroop and shivering with the last chill, the breath growing feebler and feebler and feebler, until he gives one long, deep, last sigh. He is dead! Oh, my soul, he is dead! Can you tell why? Was he a fanatic, dying for a principle that did not amount to anything? Was he a man infatuated? No; to save your soul and mine from sin, and make eternal life possible, he died. There had to be a substitute for sin. Who shall it be? ’93Let it be me,’94 said Christ; ’93let it be me.’94 You understand the meaning of that word, substitution. You were drafted for the last war; some one took your place, marched your march, suffered your wounds, and died at Gettysburg. Christ comes to us while we are fighting our battle with sin and death and hell and he is our substitute. He marches our march, fights our battle, suffers our wounds, and dies our death. Substitution! Substitution!

How do you feel in regard to that scene described in the text, and in the region around about the text? Are your sympathies aroused? or are you so dead in sin, and so abandoned, by reason of your transgressions, that you can look upon all that tearless and unmoved? No, no; there are thousands who can say in the depths of their soul, ’93No, no, no; if Jesus endured that, and all that for me, I ought to love him. I must love him; I will love him; I do love him. Here, Lord, I give myself to thee; ’91tis all that I can do.’94

But how are you going to test your love and test your earnestness? My text gives a test. It says that while Christ carried a cross for you, you must be willing to carry a cross for Christ. ’93Well,’94 you say, ’93I never could understand that. There are no crosses to be carried in this land; those persecutions have passed, and in all the land there is no one to be crucified, and yet in the pulpit and in the prayer-meetings you all keep talking about carrying a cross. What do you mean, sir?’94 I mean this: that is a cross which Christ calls you to do, which is unpleasant and hard. ’93Oh,’94 you say, ’93after hearing the story of this Christ, and all that he has endured for me, I am ready to do anything for him. Just tell me what I have to do, and I’92ll do it. I am ready to carry any cross.’94

Suppose I should ask you at the close of a religious service to rise, announcing yourself on the Lord’92s side’97could you do it? ’93Oh, no,’94 you say. ’93I have a shrinking and a sensitive nature, and it would be impossible for me to rise before a large assemblage, announcing myself on the Lord’92s side.’94 Just as I feared. You cannot stand that cross. The first one that is offered you, you reject. Christ carried a mountain; Christ carried a Himalaya; Christ carried a world for you, and you cannot lift an ounce for him.

But here is a man whose cross will be to announce among his business associates to-morrow morning on Exchange that he has begun a new life; that while he wants to be faithful in his worldly duties, he is living for another world; and he ought to advise all those who are his associates, so far as he can influence them, to begin with him the Christian life. Could you do that, my brother? ’93Oh, no,’94 you say, ’93not just that. I think religion is religion, and business is business, and it would be impossible for me to recommend the Christian religion in places of worldly business.’94 Just as I feared. There is a second cross offered you, and you cannot carry it. Christ lifted a mountain for you; you cannot lift an ounce for him.

There is some one whose cross will be to present religion in the home circle. Would you dare to kneel down and pray if your brother and sister were looking at you? Could you ask a blessing at a tea-table? Could you take the Bible and gather your family around you, and read of Christ and heaven and your immortal soul? Could you then kneel and pray for a blessing on your household? ’93Oh,’94 you say, ’93not exactly that. I couldn’92t quite do that, because I have a very quick temper, and if I professed religion and tried to talk religion in my household, and then after that I should lose my temper, they would scoff at me and say: ’91You are a pretty Christian!’92’93 So you are cowed down, and their sarcasm keeps you out of heaven and away from Christ, when, under God, you ought to take your whole family into the kingdom. Christ lifted a mountain, lifted a world for you; you cannot lift an ounce for him. I see how it is: you want to be favorable to religion; you want to support Christian institutions; you like to be associated with those who love Jesus Christ; but as to taking a positive step on this subject, you cannot’97you cannot, and my text, like a gate of a hundred bolts, bars you away from peace on earth and glory in heaven.

There are hundreds of men and women brave enough in other things in life who, simply for the lack of manliness and womanliness, stay away from God. They dare not say: ’93Forever and forever, Lord Jesus, I take thee. Thou hast redeemed me by thy blood; here is my immortal spirit. Listen, all my friends. Listen, all the world.’94 They are lurking around about the kingdom of God’97they are lurking around about it, expecting to crawl in some time when nobody is looking, forgetful of the tremendous words of my text: ’93Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple.’94 An officer of a church in Brooklyn told me that he was in a store in New York’97just happened in’97where there were many clerks, and a gentleman came in and said to a young man standing behind the counter: ’93Are you the young man who arose the other night in the Brooklyn Tabernacle and asked for prayers?’94 Without any flush of cheek, he replied: ’93I am. I haven’92t always done right, and I have been quite bad; but since I arose for prayers I think I am better than I was.’94 It was only his way of announcing that he had started for the higher life. God will not cast out a man who is brave enough to take a step ahead like that.

I tell you these things because I want to show you how light the cross is that we have to carry compared with that which Christ carried for us. You have not had the flesh torn off for Christ’92s sake in carrying your cross. You have not carried the cross until it fetched the blood. Under his there was a pool of carnage that plashed the horses’92 fetlocks. You have friends to sympathize with you in carrying the cross; Christ trod the wine-press of God’92s wrath alone, alone! The cross that you and I ought to carry represents only a few days or a few years of trial. The cross that Christ carried for us had compressed into it the agonies of eternity.

There has some one come among us whom you have not observed. He did not come through the front door; he did not come down any of these aisles; yet I know he is here. He is from the East, the far East. He comes with blistered foot, and with broken heart, and cheeks red, not with health, but with blood from the temples. I take hold of his coat and I say: ’93It does not seem to fit thee.’94 ’93No,’94 he says, ’93it is not mine; it is borrowed; it does not belong to me now. For my vesture did they cast lots.’94 And I say to him: ’93Thine eyes are red as though from loss of sleep.’94 He says: ’93Yes; the Son of Man had not where to lay his head.’94 And I touch the log on his back, and I say: ’93Why carriest thou this?’94 ’93Ah!’94 he says, ’93that is a cross I carry for thee and for the sins of the whole world. That is a cross. Fall into line; march on with me in this procession; take your smaller crosses and your lighter burdens, and join me in the march to Heaven.’94 And we join that procession with our smaller crosses and our lighter burdens, and Christ looks back and he sees some are halting because they cannot endure the shame, or bear the burden, and with a voice which has in it majesty and omnipotence, he cries until all the earth trembles: ’93Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple.’94

Oh! my brethren, my sisters’97for I do not speak professionally, I speak as a brother would speak to a brother or sister’97my brother, can you not bear a cross if at last you can wear a crown? Come now, let us divide off. Who is on the Lord’92s side? Who is ready to turn his back upon the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world?

A Roman emperor said to a Greek architect: ’93You build me a colosseum, a grand colosseum, and if it suits me I will crown you in the presence of all the people, and I will make a great day of festival on your account.’94 The Greek architect did his work, did it magnificently, planned the building, looked after its construction. The building was done. The day for opening arrived. In the colosseum were the emperor and the Greek architect. The emperor rose amid the plaudits of a vast assembly, and said: ’93We have gathered here today to open this colosseum, and to honor the Greek architect. It is a great day for the Roman empire. Let this building be prosperous, and let honor be put upon the Greek architect. We must have a festival today. Bring out those Christians and let us have them put to death at the mouth of the lions.’94 The Christians were marched into the center of the amphitheater. They were to enhance the great celebration by their destruction. Then the lions, hungry and three-fourths starved, were let out from their dens in the side of the amphitheater, and they came forth with mighty spring to destroy and rend the Christians, and all the galleries shouted: ’93Huzza, huzza! Long live the emperor!’94 Then the Greek architect arose in one of the galleries and shouted until in the vast assemblage all heard: ’93I, too, am a Christian!’94 and they seized him in their fury and flung him to the wild beasts, until his body, bleeding and dead, was tumbled over and over again in the dust of the amphitheater. Could you have done that for Christ? Could you, in a vast assemblage, all of whom hated Christ, have said: ’93I am a Christian,’94 or ’93I want to be a Christian?’94 Would you have had the ten thousandth part of the enthusiasm and courage of the Greek architect? Nay, I ask you another question: would you in an assemblage where they are nearly all Christians’97in an assemblage a vast multitude of whom love Christ and are willing to live, and if need be, to die for Him’97would you dare to say: ’93I am a Christian,’94 or ’93I want to be a Christian?’94 Would you say in the presence of the friends of Christ as much as the Greek architect said in the presence of the enemies of Christ? Oh, are there not multitudes who are ready to say: ’93Let the world look on, let all the galleries of earth and heaven and hell look on; I take Christ this day. Come applause or abuse, come sickness or health, come life or death, Christ forever.’94 Are you for Christ? are you against Him? The destinies of eternity tremble in the balance. It seems as if the last day had come and we were gathered for the reckoning. ’93Behold, he cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see him.’94 What I say to one I say to all. What are you doing for Christ?

O Christian man! O Christian woman! have you any scars to show in this conflict? When a war is over the heroes have scars to show. One hero rolls back his sleeve and shows a gunshot fracture, or he pulls down the collar and shows where he was wounded in the neck. Another man says: ’93I have never had the use of my limb since I was wounded at that great battle.’94 When the last day comes, when all our battles are over, will we have any wounds for Christ? Some have wounds for sin, wounds for the devil, wounds gotten in fighting on the wrong side. Have we wounds that we can show’97wounds gotten in the battle for Christ and for the truth? On that Resurrection Day Christ will have plenty of scars to show; Christ will stand there and show the scars on his brow, the scars on his hands, and the scars on his feet, and he will put aside the robe of his royalty and show the scar on his side, and all heaven will break down with emotion and gratitude in one great sob, and then in one great hosanna. Will you and I have any scars to show?

There will be Ignatius, on that day showing the mark of the paw and teeth of the lion that struck him down in the colosseum. There will be glorious John Huss, showing just where on his foot the flames began on that day when his soul took wing of flame and soared up from Constance. There will be Hugh M’92Kail, ready to point to the mark on his neck where the ax struck him. There will be McMillan and Campbell and Freeman, the American missionaries, who, with their wives and children, were put to death in that awful massacre at Cawnpore, showing the places where the daggers of the Sepoys struck them. There will be the Waldenses, showing where their limbs were broken on the day when the Piedmontese soldiery pitched them over the rocks.

Will you and I have any wounds to show? Have we fought any battles for Christ? Oh! that we might all be enlisted for Christ, that we might all be willing to suffer for Christ, that we might all bear a cross for Christ. When the Scottish chieftains wanted to raise an army, they would make a wooden cross, and then set it on fire, and carry it with other crosses they had, through the mountains, through the highlands, and among the people, and as they waved the cross the people would gather to the standard and fight for Scotland. So today, I come out with the cross of the Son of God. It is a flaming cross’97flaming with suffering, flaming with triumph, flaming with glory. I carry it out among all the people. Who will be on the Lord’92s side? Who will gather to the standard of Emmanuel? ’93Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple.’94

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage