428. The Three Crosses

The Three Crosses

Luk_23:33 : ’93And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left.’94

Just outside of Jerusalem is a swell of ground, toward which a crowd are ascending; for it is the day of execution. What a mighty assemblage! Some for curiosity to hear what the malefactors will say, and to see how they will act. The three persons to be executed are already there. Some of the spectators are vile of lip and bloated of cheek. Some look up with revenge, hardly able to keep their hands off the sufferers. Some tear their own hair in a frenzy of grief. Some stand in silent horror. Some break out into uncontrollable weeping. Some clap their hands in delight that the offenders are to be punished at last. The soldiers with drawn swords drive back the mob, which presses on so hard. There is fear that the proceedings may be interrupted. Let the legion, now stationed at Jerusalem, on horseback, dash along the line, and force back the surging multitude. ’93Back with you,’94 is the cry. ’93Have you never before seen a man die?’94

Three crosses in a row. An upright piece, and two transverse pieces, one on the top, on which the hands are nailed, and one at the middle, on which the victim sat. Three trees just planted, yet bearing fruit’97the one at the right bearing poison, and the one at the left bitter aloes; the one in the middle, apples of love. Norway pine and tropical orange and Lebanon cedar would not make so strange a grove as this orchard of Calvary. Stand and give a look at the three crosses.

Just look at the cross on the right. Its victim dies scoffing. More awful than his physical anguish is his scorn and hatred of him on the middle cross. This wretched man turns half around on the spikes to hiss at the One in the middle. If the scoffer could get one hand loose, and he were within reach, he would smite the middle sufferer in the face. He hates him with a perfect hatred. I think he wishes he were down on the ground that he might spear him. He envies the mechanics who, with their nails, have nailed him fast. Amid the settling darkness, and louder than the crash of the rocks, hear him jeer out these words: ’93Ah! you poor wretch! I knew you were an impostor! You pretended to be a God, and yet you let these legions master you.’94 It was in some such hate that Voltaire, in his death hour, because he thought he saw Christ in his bedroom, got up on his elbow, and cried out: ’93Crush that wretch!’94 What had the middle cross done to arouse up this right-hand cross? Nothing. Oh, the enmity of the natural heart against Christ! The world likes a sentimental Christ or a philanthropic Christ, but a Christ who comes to snatch men away from their sins’97away with him! On this right-hand cross today I see typified the unbelief of the world. Men say: ’93Back with him from the heart; I will not let him take my sins. If he will die, let him die for himself, not for me.’94 There has always been a war between this right-hand cross and the middle cross; and wherever there is an unbelieving heart, there the fight goes on. Oh, if when that dying malefactor perished, the faithlessness of man had perished, then that tree which yields poison would have budded and blossomed with life for all the world!

Look up into that disturbed countenance of the sufferer, and see what a ghastly thing it is to reject Christ. Behold in that awful face, in that pitiful look, in that unblessed death hour, the stings of the sinner’92s departure. What a plunge into darkness! Standing high upon the cross on the top of the hill, so that all the world may look at him, he says: ’93Here I go out of a miserable life into a wretched eternity!’94 One! Two! Three! Listen to the crash of the fall, all ye ages! So Hobbes, dying after he had seventy years in which to prepare for eternity, said: ’93Were I master of all the world, I would give it all to live one day longer.’94 Sir Francis Newport, hovering over the brink, cried out: ’93Wretch that I am, whither shall I fly from this breast? What will become of me? Oh, that I were to lie upon the fire that never is quenched a thousand years, to purchase the favor of God and to be reconciled to him again! Oh, eternity! Oh, eternity! Who can discover the abyss of eternity? Who can paraphrase these words: ’91Forever and forever’92?’94 That right-hand cross’97thousands have perished on it in worse agonies. For what is physical pain compared to remorse, at the last, that life has been wasted, and only a fleeting moment stands between the soul and its everlasting overthrow? O God! let me die anywhere rather than at the foot of that right-hand cross. Let not one drop of that blood fall upon my cheek. Rend not my ear with that cry. I see it now as never before’97the loathsomeness and horror of my unbelief. That dying malefactor was not so much to blame as I. Christianity was not established, and perhaps not until that day had that man heard the Christ. But after Christ has stood almost nineteen centuries, working the wonders of his grace, you reject him.

That right-hand cross, with its long beam, overshadows all the earth. It is planted in the heart of the race. When will the time come when the Spirit of God shall, with its ax, hew down that right-hand cross, until it shall fall at the foot of that middle cross; and unbelief, the railing malefactor of the world, shall perish from all our hearts? Away from me, thou spirit of unbelief! I hate thee! With this sword of God I thrust thee back and thrust thee through. Down to hell; down, most accursed monster of the earth, and talk to those thou hast already damned! Talk no longer to these sons of God, these heirs of heaven.

’93If thou be the Son of God.’94 Was there any ’93if’94 about it? Tell me, thou star, that in robe of light did run to point out his birthplace. Tell me, thou sea, that didst put thy hand over thy lip when he bade thee be still. Tell me, ye dead, who got up to see him die. Tell me, thou sun in mid-heaven, who for him didst pull down over thy face thy veil of darkness. Tell me, ye lepers who were cleansed, ye dead who were raised, is he the Son of God? Ay! ay! responds the universe. The flowers breathe it; the stars chime it; the redeemed celebrate it; the angels rise on their thrones to announce it. And yet on that miserable malefactor’92s ’93if’94 how many shall be wrecked for all eternity! That little ’93if’94 has enough venom in its sting to cause the death of the soul. No ’93if’94 about it. I know it. Ecce Deus! I feel it thoroughly’97through every muscle of the body, and through every faculty of my mind, and through every energy of my soul. Living, I will preach it; dying, I will pillow my head upon its consolations’97Jesus the God.

Away, then, from this right-hand cross. The red berries of the forest are apt to be poisonous, and around this tree of carnage grow the red, poisonous berries of which many have tasted and died. I can see no use for this right-hand cross, except it be used as a lever with which to upturn the unbelief of the world.

Here, from the right-hand cross, I go to the left-hand cross. Pass clear to the other side. That victim also twists himself upon the nails to look at the center cross’97yet not to scoff. It is to worship. He, too, would like to get his hand loose’97not to smite, but to deliver the sufferer of the middle cross. He cries to the railer cursing on the other side: ’93Silence! between us is innocence in agony. We suffer for our crimes. Silence!’94 Gather around this left-hand cross, O ye people! Be not afraid. Bitter herbs are sometimes a tonic for the body, and the bitter aloes that grow on this tree shall give strength and life to thy soul. This left-hand cross is a repenting cross. As men who have been nearly drowned tell us that in one moment, while they were under the water, their whole life passed before them, so I suppose in one moment the dying malefactor thought over all his past life’97of that night when he went into an unguarded door and took all the silver, the gold, the jewels, and as the sleeper stirred, he put a knife through his heart; of that day when, in the lonely pass, he met the wayfarer, and, regardless of the cries and prayers and tears and struggles of his victim, he flung the mangled corpse into the dust of the highway or heaped upon it the stones. He says: ’93I am a guilty wretch; I deserve this! There is no need of my cursing. That will not stop the pain. There is no need of blaspheming Christ, for he has done me no wrong; and yet I cannot die so. The tortures of my body are outdone by the tortures of my soul. The past is a scene of misdoing. The present a crucifixion. The future an everlasting undoing. Come back, thou hiding midday sun! Kiss my cheek with one bright ray of comfort. What, no help from above’97no help from beneath? Then I must turn to my companion in sorrow, the One on the middle cross. I have heard that he knows how to help a man when he is in trouble. I have heard that he can cure the wounded. I have heard that he can pardon the sinner. Surely, in all his wanderings up and down the earth, he never saw one more in need of his forgiveness. Blessed one! I turn to thee! Wilt thou turn for the moment away from thy own pangs to pity me? Lord, it is not to have my hands relieved or my feet taken from the torture. I can stand all this; but, oh, my sins! my sins! my sins! they pierce me through and through. They tell me I must die forever. They will push me out into the darkness unless thou wilt help me. I confess it all. Hear the cry of the dying thief: Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. I ask no great things. I seek for no throne in heaven, no chariot to take me to the skies; but just think of me when this day’92s horrors have passed. Think of me a little’97of me, the one now hanging at thy side’97when the shout of heavenly welcome takes thee back into thy glory. Thou wilt not forget me, wilt thou? Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. Only just remember me.’94

Likewise must we repent. You say: ’93I have stolen nothing.’94 I reply: ’93We have all been guilty of the mightiest felony of the universe, for we have robbed God’97robbed him of our time, robbed him of our talent, robbed him of our services.’94 Suppose you send a man West as an agent of your firm, and every month you pay him his salary, and at the end of ten years you find out that he has been serving another firm, but taking your salary; would you not at once condemn him as dishonest? God sent us into this world to serve him. He has given us wages all the time. Yet how many of us have been serving another master! When a man is convicted of treason, he is brought out: a regiment surrounds him, and the command is given: ’93Attention, company! Take aim! Fire!’94 And the man falls with a hundred bullets through his heart. There comes a time in a man’92s history when the Lord calls up the troop of his iniquities, and at God’92s command they pour into him a concentrated volley of torture.

You say: ’93I don’92t feel myself to be a sinner.’94 That may be. Walk along by the cliffs, and you see sunlight and flowers at the mouth of the cave; but take a torch and go in, and before you have gone far, you see the flashing eye of a wild beast or hear the hiss of a serpent. So the heart seems in the sunlight of worldliness; but as I wave the torch of God’92s truth, and go down into the deep cavern of the heart’97alas! for the bristling horrors and the rattling fangs. Have you ever noticed the climax in this passage of Scripture: ’93The heart is deceitful.’94 That seems enough. But the passage goes on and says: ’93The heart is deceitful above all things.’94 Will you not say that is enough? But the passage goes on further and says: ’93The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.’94 If we could see the true condition of the unpardoned before God, what wringing of hands there would be! What a thousand-voiced shriek of supplication and despair! But you are a sinner, a sinner. I speak not to the person who sits next to you, but to you. You are a sinner. All the transgressions of a lifetime have been gathered up into an avalanche. At any moment it may slip from the cliffs and crush you forever. May the Lord Almighty, by his grace, help us to repent of our sins while repentance is possible.

This left-hand cross was a believing cross. There was no guesswork in that prayer; no ’93if’94 in that supplication. The left-hand cross flung itself at the foot of the middle cross, expecting mercy. Faith is only just opening the hand to take what Christ offers us. The work is all done; the bridge is built strong enough for us all to walk over. Tap not at the door of God’92s mercy with the tip of your fingers, but as a warrior with gauntleted fists beats at the castle gate; so, with all the aroused energies of our souls, let us pound at the gate of heaven. That gate is locked. You go to it with a bunch of keys. You try philosophy. That will not open it. A large door generally has a ponderous key. I take the cross and place the foot of it in the lock, and by the two arms of the cross I turn the lock, and the door opens.

This left-hand cross was a pardoned cross. The crosses were only two or three yards apart. It did not take long for Christ to hear. Christ might have turned away and said: ’93How darest thou speak to me? I am the Lord of heaven and earth. I have seen your violence. When you struck down that man in the darkness, I saw you. You are getting a just reward. Die in darkness’97die forever.’94 But Jesus said not so, but rather: ’93This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise,’94 as much as to say: ’93I see you there; do not worry. I will not only bear my cross, but help you with yours.’94

Forthwith the left-hand cross becomes the abode of contentment. The pillow of the malefactor, soaked in blood, becomes like the crimson upholstery of a king’92s couch. When the body became still, and the surgeons feeling the pulse said one to another: ’93He is dead,’94 the last mark of pain had gone from his face. Peace had smoothed his forehead. Peace closed his eyes. Peace closed his lips. Now you see why there were two transverse pieces on the cross, for it has become a ladder into the skies. That dying head is easy which has under it the promise: ’93This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.’94 Ye whose lips have been filled with blasphemy, ye whose hands for many years have wrought unrighteousness, ye who have companioned with the unclean, ye who have scaled every height of transgression and fathomed every depth, and passed every extreme of iniquity’97mercy! mercy!

The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain in his day;

And there may I, though vile as he,

Wash all my sins away.

I have shown you the right-hand cross and the left-hand cross; now come to the middle cross. We stood at the one, and found it yielded poison. We stood at the other, and found it yielded bitter aloes. Come now to the middle cross, and shake down apples of love. Uncover your head. You never saw so tender a scene as this. You may have seen father or mother or companion or child die, but never so affecting a scene as this. The railing thief looked from one way, and saw only the right side of Christ’92s face. The penitent thief looked from the other way, and saw the left side of Christ’92s face. But today, in the full blaze of Gospel light, you see Christ’92s full face. It was a suffering cross. If the weapons of torture had gone only through the fatty portions of the body, the torture would not have been so great, but they went through the hands and feet and temples’97the most sensitive portions. It was not only the spear that went into his side, but the sins of all the race’97a thousand spears’97plunge after plunge, deeper and deeper, until the silence and composure that before characterized him gave way to a groan, through which rumbled the sorrows of time and the woes of eternity. Human hate had done its worst and hell had hurled its sharpest javelin and devils had vented their hottest rage, when, with every nerve of his body in torture, and every fiber of his heart in excruciation, he cried out: ’93My God! my God! why hast thou forsaken me?’94 It was a vicarious cross; the right-hand cross suffered for itself, the left-hand cross for itself; but the middle cross for you. When a king was dying a young man cried: ’93Pour my blood into his veins, that he die not.’94 The veins of the young man were tapped and the blood transferred; so that the king lived, but the young man died. Christ saw the race perishing. He cried: ’93Pour my blood into their veins, that they die not.’94 My hand is free now, because Christ’92s was crushed. My brow is painless now, because Christ’92s was torn. My soul escapes, because Christ’92s was bound. I gain heaven, because Christ for me endured the horrors of hell.

When the Swiss were many years ago contending against their enemies, they saw these enemies arrayed in solid phalanx, and knew not how to break their ranks; but one of their heroes, Arnold von Winkelried, rushed out in front of his regiment and shouted: ’93Make way for liberty!’94 The weapons of the enemy were plunged into his heart, but while they were slaying him, of course their ranks were broken, and through that gap in the ranks the Swiss dashed to victory. Christ saw all the powers of darkness assailing men. He cried out: ’93Make way for the redemption of the world.’94 All the weapons of infernal wrath struck him, but as they struck him our race marched out free.

To this middle cross look, that your souls may live. I showed you the right-hand cross in order that you might see what an awful thing it is to be unbelieving. I showed you the left-hand cross that you might see what it is to repent. Now I show you the middle cross that you may see what Christ has done to save your soul. Poets have sung its praise, sculptors have attempted to commemorate it in marble, martyrs have clung to it in the fire, and Christians dying quietly in their beds have leaned their heads against it. This hour may all our souls embrace it with an ecstasy of affection. Lay hold of that cross! Everything else will fail you. Without a strong grip on that you perish. Put your hand on that and you are safe, though a world swing from beneath your feet.

Oh, that I might engrave on your souls ineffaceably the three crosses, so that if in your waking moments you will not heed, then in your dreams at night you may see on the hill back of Jerusalem the three spectacles’97the right-hand cross showing unbelief, dying without Christ; the left-hand, showing what it is to be pardoned, while the central cross pours upon your soul the sunburst of heaven as it says: ’93By all these wounds I plead for thy heart. I have loved thee with an everlasting love. Rivers cannot quench it. Floods cannot drown it.’94 And while you look, the right-hand cross will fade out of sight, and then the left will be gone; and nothing will remain but the middle cross, and even that in your dream will begin to change, until it becomes a throne; and the worn face of Calvary will become radiant with gladness; and instead of the mad mob at the foot of the cross will be a worshipful multitude, kneeling. And you and I will be among them.

But no! we will not wait for such a dream. In this our most aroused mood we throw down at the foot of that middle cross sin, sorrow, life, death’97everything. We are slaves; Christ gives deliverance to the captive. We are thirsty; Christ is the river of salvation to slake our thirst. We are hungry; Jesus says: ’93I am the bread of life.’94 We are condemned to die; Christ says: ’93Save that man from going down to the pit; I am the ransom.’94 We are tossed on the sea of trouble; Jesus comes over it, saying: ’93It is I, be not afraid.’94 We are in darkness; Jesus says: ’93I am the bright and morning star.’94 We are sick; Jesus is the ’93balm of Gilead.’94 We are dead; hear the shrouds rend and the grave hillocks heave, as he cries: ’93I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.’94 We want justification: ’93Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.’94 We want to exercise faith: ’93Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’94 I want to get from under condemnation: ’93There is now, therefore, no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus.’94 The cross’97he carried it. The flames of hell’97he suffered them. The shame’97he endured it. The crown’97he won it. Heights of heaven sing it, and worlds of light to worlds of light all round the heavens cry: ’93Glory! Glory!’94 Let us go forth and gather the trophies for Jesus. From Golconda mines we gather the diamonds; from Ceylon shores we gather the pearls; from all lands and kingdoms we gather precious stones, and we bring the glittering burdens and put them down at the feet of Jesus and say: ’93All these are thine. Thou art worthy.’94 We go forth again for more trophies, and into one sheaf we gather all the scepters of the C’e6sars and the Alexanders and the Czars and the Sultans and of all royalties and dominions, and then we bring the sheaf of scepters and put it down at the feet of Jesus and say: ’93Thou art King of kings; all these thou hast conquered.’94 And then we go forth again to gather more trophies, and we bid the redeemed of ages, the sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty, to come. And the hosts of heaven bring crown and palm and scepter, and here by these bleeding feet and this riven side and by this wounded heart, cry: ’93Blessing and honor and glory and power unto the Lamb, forever and ever.’94

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage