We teach every Sabbath day, that the whole shower of divine wrath was poured upon Christ’s head, that the black cloud of vengeance emptied out itself upon the cross, and that there is not left in the book of God a single sin against a believer, nor can there possibly be even a particle of punishment ever exacted at the hand of the man that believeth in Jesus, for this reason,—that Jesus has been punished to the full. In full tale hath every sin received sentence in his death. He hath suffered, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God. And now, if you and I are enabled this morning to go beneath the bloody tree of Calvary, and shelter ourselves there, how safe we are! Ah! we may look around and defy all our sins to destroy us. This shall be an all-sufficient argument to shut their clamorous mouths, “Christ hath died.”
When I think of my sin, it seems impossible that any atonement should ever be adequate; but when I think of Christ’s death it seems impossible, that any sin should ever be great enough to need such an atonement as that. There is in the death of Christ enough and more than enough. There is not only a sea in which to drown our sins, but the very tops of the mountains of our guilt are covered.
His death was the digging of the well of salvation. Stern was the labour, toilsome was the work; he dug on, and on, and on, through rocks of suffering, into the deepest caverns of misery; but the resurrection was the springing up of the water. Christ digged the well to its very bottom, but not a drop did spring up; still was the world dry and thirsty, till on the morning of the resurrection a voice was heard, “Spring up O well,” and forth came Christ himself from the grave, and with him came the resurrection and the life; pardon and peace for all souls sprang up from the deep well of his misery. Oh! when I can find enough for my faith to be satisfied with even in the digging of the well, what shall be my satisfaction when I see it overflowing its brim, and springing up with life everlasting? Surely the apostle was right when he said, “Yea rather, who hath risen from the dead.”
There is one thing I have noticed, in looking over the old levitical law, under the description of the tabernacle. There were no seats whatever provided for the priests. Every priest stands daily ministering and offering sacrifice for sin. They never had any seats to sit on. There was a table for the shew-bread, an altar, and a brazen laver; yet there was no seat. No priest sat down; he must always stand; for there was always work to be accomplished, always something to be done. But the great high priest of our profession, Jesus, the Son of God, hath taken his seat at the right hand of the majesty on high. Why is this? Because, now the sacrifice is complete for ever, and the priest hath made a full end of his solemn service. What would the Jew have thought if it had been possible for a seat to have been introduced into the sanctuary, and for the high priest to sit down? Why, the Jew would then have been compelled to believe that it was all over, the dispensation was ended; for a sitting priest would be the end of all. And now we may rest assured, since we can see a sitting Christ in heaven, that the whole atonement is finished, the work is over, he hath made an end of sin. I do consider that in this there is an argument why no believer ever can perish.
None but he hath a right to condemn, for he is the sole judge of right and wrong, and if he hath died shall he put us to death, and if he hath risen for us, shall he thrust us downwards to the pit, and if he hath reigned for us and hath been accepted for us, shall he cast us away, and if he hath pleaded for us, shall he curse us at the last? No! Come life, come death, my soul can rest on this. He died for me. I cannot be punished for my sin. He rose again, I must rise, and though I die yet shall I live again. He sits at the right hand of God, and so must I. I must be crowned and reign with him for ever. He intercedes, and he must be heard. He beckons me, and I must be brought at length to see his face, and to be with him where he is.
I will say no more; only may God give us all an interest in these four precious things. An angel’s tongue might fail to sing their sweetness, or tell their brightness and their majesty; mine has failed—but this is well. The excellency of the power is in the doctrine, and not in my preaching. Amen.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon