Luke 6:20–8:3

There is a striking contrast between "the whole multitude" of verses 17-19 and "His disciples" in verse 20. The great blessing of verse 19 might well excite the disciples with the prospect of the kingdom's glory arriving. The Lord quiets this with words that show they should be ready for poverty, hunger, weeping and persecution. He clearly spoke this at a different time from the sermon on the mount, though it covers similar things in a shorter form. In Matthew He spoke to the crowd; here He speaks to His disciples.

Luke takes a different course. Here the Lord is not laying down principles, or describing the classes of people who can have a part in the kingdom, as in "Blessed the poor." He looks at His disciples and speaks to them as the ones directly concerned: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God." It is all personal, spoken to the godly company standing around Him... It was sorrow and suffering now. The One who fulfilled the promises, the psalms and the prophets had been rejected, so the kingdom could not yet come in power and glory.

Compare Matthew 5:3 with Luke 6:20. We can note the difference and understand the reason for it. When He describes the character of the people the kingdom belongs to, the Lord calls it the kingdom of heaven. But when He tells those in front of Him about blessings already theirs, He calls it the kingdom of God, because that was its character at that time.

His disciples were, however, "the poor." Note they were not blessed because they were poor, but because theirs was the kingdom of God.

The poor here does not mean exactly those we call poor in this world. It means the poor in spirit (Matthew 5:3), those who are aware of their poverty before God — whatever their position or circumstances in life... The true meaning of the word comes out in a contrast the Lord Himself makes: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation."… These are the poor who have nothing to own, nothing to satisfy them, and nothing to enjoy in the things of the world. They have been made to feel that they have nothing for God and can bring nothing to Him.

The words "in spirit" are left out here. But this text gives no ground for such an idea. It comes from superstition, not from faith... The question is about the inner man as against the outer. A man who is poor in this world's goods may have a proud, unbending spirit, while a rich man may be truly humble. At the same time, we believe the Lord has more often used a man's miseries than his comforts to bring him to Himself. But that is the Lord's doing, and quite another thing.

These words of the Saviour set those He calls blessed against all who are at ease in this world. If their hope in Christ were for this life only, they would be the most miserable of all men. Yet they are the only happy few. They stand cut off from everyone else, in relationship with Him who is the source of blessing, so that they may be blessed. If you can make yourselves happy and comfortable in this world which has rejected Jesus, do not count on His blessing.

In the Gospel of Luke, another course is followed. Here the Lord does not lay down principles. He does not describe the classes of people who can have a part in the kingdom, as in "Blessed are the poor" and so on. Instead He looks at His disciples and speaks to them as the people directly concerned... It is all personal, with the godly company that then surrounded Him in view. So He says, "Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you shall be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now," and so on. It was sorrow and suffering now, for the One who fulfilled the promises, the psalms and the prophets was rejected. So the kingdom could not yet come in power and glory. "But first He must suffer many things."

These words of the Saviour give the contrast of those He pronounces blessed with all who are at ease in this world. If they had hope in Christ for this life only, they would be the most miserable of all people. Yet they are the only happy few. They are cut off from all others and put in relationship with Him, the source of blessing, so that they may be blessed. This world has rejected Jesus. If you can make yourself happy and comfortable in it, do not count on His blessing.

Those who are full now, stuffed with the things of this present life, will find themselves hungering. Those who laugh now will yet mourn and weep. Things will be fully reversed from what people naturally think today.

In Luke 6 the Lord addresses His disciples directly. He says in a general way: "Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you shall be satisfied" (verse 21). The fourth of the nine "beatitudes" in Matthew 5 speaks of a particular hunger and thirst — a hunger and thirst after righteousness.

God will fill the hungry so that He may fulfil His word. "Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you shall be satisfied" (Luke 6:21). Has the Lord spoken, and will it not come to pass? As "His compassions fail not" (Lam. 3:22), so He will not let His "faithfulness fail" (Ps. 89:33). If the hungry soul were not filled, the promise would not be fulfilled.

For now, to hunger and thirst is a blessing, for it carries the prospect of being filled. In fact, though there may be painful deprivation, yet the soul may even now be filled with spiritual good. If there is weeping now, it is because our Lord is rejected and absent. In the end that weeping will turn to laughter, when we are with the Lord. So even now, holding this certainty of future hope, we are more blessed than we realise.

There is a great deal about laughter in the Bible, and mostly it expresses these two ideas of happiness and contempt. "Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh" — these are the comforting words He speaks to His suffering disciples. But another saying means something very different: "He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision."

His disciples were the poor, the hungry, the weepers, those hated and reproached. A description like this shows that He was already treating His own rejection as a certainty. The sad and rejected are the blessed; the glad and the popular are under judgment. One group follows in the footsteps of the Son of Man and suffers for His sake. The other follows the way of the false prophets.

Lastly, notice that Luke leaves out persecution for righteousness' sake altogether. That has its fitting, though not exclusive, place in Matthew… Luke keeps only the blessing of those persecuted for the Son of Man's sake. This fits beautifully with the way he speaks directly to his four classes. The blessed here stand right in front of the Lord, and the persecuted here suffer only for His sake. It is all deeply personal.

He says, if we may put it this way, "I am setting you apart." He is not stating abstract principles, as at the start of Matthew 5. He is speaking to the hearts of those gathered around Him. "I have come as the centre of power and active love. There is only one place of blessing on earth. With Me you are blessed." Others may be lighthearted and cheerful where Christ has no place. But this is a time when a truly spiritual soul can find no good except with Christ.

"Separate" is usually understood to mean being put out of the synagogue (John 16:2). But the scholar De Wette took it, like the English translation, to mean being shut out of society in general.

To have your name "cast out" is to have it spread around, bringing you into bad repute.

More than this, the believer is blessed in persecution — even when hated and shut out, with his very name treated with contempt as though it were evil (v.22). Yet there is a condition here: "for the Son of Man's sake." We can only claim the blessing if the persecution is for His sake. But if it is, the blessing is deeply real and valuable.

People often use the word "cross" loosely, for every kind of trial and suffering. It is used commonly even by unbelievers and about unbelievers. But in the language of Scripture, no unbeliever bears a cross. The world loves its own; it does not hate them (John 15:19)… Only one thing can be called a cross: suffering or insult that flows from man's unjust judgment on what is like Christ in us.

Some were identified with Himself and shared His sorrows. Others belonged to the world and shared its passing joys. On the one group He called down a blessing, and on the other a woe. This, of course, involved a tremendous paradox. The sad and rejected are the blessed: the glad and the popular are under judgment.

Would they be hated for the Son of Man's sake? That only showed whose they were. So they should rejoice. Here the Lord gives them an antidote to the sting of the trial by pointing them up to heaven. It is certainly a trial for anyone to have his name unjustly thrown out as evil. But He provided the antidote before the disciples had begun to feel the sting.

I believe, beloved friends, to be thoroughly hated for Christ's sake is a wonderful thing. When a man is here really for God, and the light, the truth, and the grace of God are streaming through that man, he is sure to be hated, and if he is hated for Christ's sake, let him thank God.

It is an immense thing when you see and accept that suffering for Christ is the place of the highest distinction on earth. We may not suffer much. But simply being convinced that suffering is the highest place, and the only place of real progress, will always be healthy discipline and encouragement.

On this occasion the Lord addressed His disciples personally. In Matthew He described a certain class, and says that theirs is the kingdom. Here He says, "yours is the kingdom," identifying that class with the disciples… This of course involved a tremendous paradox. The sad and rejected are the blessed: the glad and the popular are under judgment. But the first group follows in the footsteps of the Son of Man and suffers for His sake. The second follows in the way of the false prophets.

More than this, in persecution the believer is blessed, even when people hate him and shut him out, and despise his very name as evil (v.22). Yet there is a condition noted here: "for the Son of Man's sake." We can claim the blessing only if the persecution is for His sake. If it is, that blessing is deeply real and valuable. We are urged not to let persecution discourage us, but to rejoice and leap for joy. Being identified with Him this way is worth far more than a popular life on earth.

The word is used loosely, as if it applied to every kind of trial and suffering, and often even by and of unbelievers. In the language of Scripture it is clear that no unbeliever bears a cross… Every believer does bear a cross, but he has only one, and he should bear it not now and then but "daily." It is the reproach of Christ. No suffering or reproach is a cross, except what comes from man's unjust judgment on what is like Christ in us.

Would they be hated for the Son of man's sake? That only showed whose they were. So they should rejoice. Here the Lord gives them an antidote to the sting of the trial by pointing them up to heaven. It is a real trial for anyone to have their name falsely cast out as evil. But He provided the antidote before the disciples had begun to feel the sting.

But the Messiah had come to earth, and men rejected Him. So He began to teach that heaven, not earth, was to be the home of His faithful disciples (Luke 6:23). He taught the heavenly calling. Saints may experience suffering and trials here. These are not to discourage them. Beyond death is their portion, their home. The full barn and the crowded storehouse were now no proof of special Divine approval. They were no sign either that everlasting misery would not be the owners' portion.

His disciples are separated from all the world around them by this fact, that they are His. The world stands against Him and against His own. It hates them, shuts them out, and casts out their name as evil for the Son of man's sake… Yet they may well rejoice, for their reward is great in heaven. On earth they only continue the line of the prophets whom the world rejected long ago.

It is an immense thing when you see and accept that suffering for Christ is the place of the highest distinction on earth. We may not suffer much; but the mere conviction that suffering is the highest place, and the only one of true progress, will always be healthy discipline and encouragement.

There are only four classes of blessing here — not seven. But four woes follow them. In Matthew those woes come later, kept for a still greater completeness in Matthew 23, at the end of His ministry, for the same dispensational reason he keeps up throughout his Gospel. Luke, on the other hand, gives the blessings first, and the woes right after. It was not the time of ease; judgment was coming. This flows from the moral character of his Gospel. We see the same thing in Deuteronomy, which has a similar purpose: Moses tells the people that he sets before them the blessing and the curse at the same time (Deut. 28).

Verse 24 is directly addressed to the rich, not for blessing, but with warning of woe. If men seek riches before the coming kingdom, this is all they have. They ignore the future in order to receive their consolation now. Those who are full now, satisfied with the things of this present life, will find themselves hungering. Those who laugh now will yet mourn and weep. Things will be fully reversed from what people naturally think today.

By the poor is meant, not exactly those who are so called in this world, but rather the poor in spirit (Matt. 5:3), those who are conscious of poverty before God — whatever their position or earthly circumstances. The largest numbers of these, it is quite true, will be found among the class we know as the poor (see Luke 4:18; 1 Cor. 1:26-29); but thanks be to God, whose grace is sovereign in its operation, there are such in every rank and station of life. Abraham told the rich man in torment that he had received his good things in his lifetime, while Lazarus in the same way received bad things (Luke 16:25). These are the poor who have nothing to own, enjoy, or find satisfaction in among the things of the world — those who have been made to feel that they have nothing for God and can bring nothing to Him.

Then follow the woes. "But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation." Nothing is more dangerous than ease and satisfaction in this world. There is no greater snare, even to the disciple. So again: "Woe to you who are full now, for you shall be hungry." This, of course, has its moral bearing. There is leanness for the soul where the heart has all that it desires.

These words of the Saviour give the contrast between those He pronounces blessed and all who are at ease in this world. If in this life only they had hope in Christ, they would be of all men the most miserable. Yet they are the only happy few. They stand separated from all others, in relationship with Him, the source of blessing, so that they may be blessed. If you can make yourselves happy and comfortable in this world which has rejected Jesus, do not count on His blessing.

Those who are rich in material things, and are not rich toward God, have received in this life the only consolation they will ever have (Luke 6:24). But those who are poor in this life, yet rich toward God, will have their consolation and portion in the life to come (Luke 16:19-31).

There are only four kinds of blessing here — not seven. But four woes follow them. Matthew holds those woes back until the fuller account in Matthew 23, at the end of His ministry, for the same reason he keeps to all through his Gospel. Luke, on the other hand, gives the blessings first and the woes straight after. It was not a time of ease; judgment was coming.

Nothing is more dangerous than ease and satisfaction in this world. There is no greater snare, even for the disciple. So again: "Woe to you who are full now, for you shall be hungry." This, of course, has its moral bearing. There is leanness for the soul where the heart has everything it desires. "Woe to you who laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep." This carries the danger of man's heart a step further.

Meanwhile to hunger and thirst is a blessing, for it carries the prospect of being filled. In fact, though there may be trying deprivation, the soul may even now be filled with spiritual good. If there is weeping now, while our Lord is rejected and absent, that weeping will turn to laughter when we are with the Lord. Even now, holding this certain hope, we are more blessed than we realize.

It will also rejoice in the daily mercies of God. But it will not be the foolish joy of the world. That joy tries to hide its emptiness and to drown the sense of its misery with laughter. Alone, a person feels the emptiness and often the pain. In company, laughter makes them forget it. People do not like to burden others; they must make them believe they are happy. The world cannot be honest with itself; yet sorrow and affliction are only too real. The Lord could weep but not laugh.

Those who are full now are satisfied with the things of this present life. They will find themselves hungry. Those who laugh now will yet mourn and weep. Things will be fully reversed from the way people naturally think today.

No; you who are "full" now — Jesus has no charm for you. But you, disciples, are weeping now; the sorrow and the sin of man distress your spirit: you shall rejoice… But the others! They shall have what they seek. For the full there will be a famine later on, for they have lost God. If you can laugh in a world like this, you will weep when God's time for blessing comes.

These words of the Saviour set those He calls blessed in contrast with all who are at ease in this world. If they had hope in Christ for this life only, they would be the most miserable of all people. Yet they are the only happy few… If you can make yourselves happy and comfortable in this world which has rejected Jesus, do not count on His blessing.

Let these solemn words run far and wide. They are encouragement and comfort to the poor, the suffering and afflicted people of God. They are loud warnings to those who are seeking their satisfaction and exaltation in this world.

It was not a time of ease; judgment was coming.

A description like this shows that He was already treating His own rejection as certain. The verses that follow (24-26) show that He was dividing the people into two classes. One group was identified with Him and shared His sorrows. The other belonged to the world and shared its passing joys. On the head of the one class He called down a blessing; on the head of the other, a woe. This of course involved a tremendous paradox. The sad and rejected are the blessed; the glad and the popular are under judgment. But the one group follows in the footsteps of the Son of Man and suffers for His sake. The other follows in the way of the false prophets.

If all speak well of us (v.26), it is no sign of God's approval, but of solemn humiliation to come. Ungodly people spoke well of false prophets and still do so today. Men's approval is empty, and worse, when one does not have God's approval.

Suffering here has always been the lot of the true prophets. Popularity and general acceptance were given to the false ones. The world was not changed. The devil had not altered. Men's hearts were as bad naturally as ever. Faithfulness to God would still bring trouble, and it might be persecution, on those marked by it. Would they be hated for the Son of Man's sake? That only showed whose they were. So they should rejoice.

Ahab called Elijah "my enemy" (1 Kings 21:20), and of Micaiah he said, "I hate him" (1 Kings 22:8). It is really a compliment to be disliked by the wicked. Obadiah and Jehoshaphat were the opposite of Elijah and Micaiah. They were not bold and unflinching, but weak, and given to compromise for the sake of advantage. Ahab hated neither of these, for they were useful to him.

These words of the Saviour contrast those He calls blessed with all who are at ease in this world. Some would be the most miserable of all people, if their hope in Christ were for this life only. Yet they are the only happy few. They are cut off from all others, and put in relationship with Him, the source of blessing, so that they may be blessed. If you can make yourselves happy and comfortable in this world which has rejected Jesus, do not count on His blessing.

Many who profess faith have fallen because they were taken up with a name. The effort to keep up a name has destroyed many a useful servant. Suppose I have gained a reputation in some area of service. Perhaps as an active evangelist, a gifted teacher, a clear and attractive writer, a man of prayer, a man of faith, a person of remarkable holiness or great devotedness, a generous person — a name for anything, in short. Then I am in serious danger of making shipwreck. The enemy will lead me to make my reputation my object instead of Christ.

Who then were those who heard the Prophet of Jehovah? There need be no doubt about the right answer, since the Lord Himself gave it. Speaking to His disciples He said, "Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear." They were His followers, for they had heard Him. As the sheep of the "little flock" they had heard the voice of the good Shepherd.

Many are spiritually deaf and do not hear such things. They have closed their ears to the things of Christ on purpose.

All that Luke says is, "But I say to you who hear." The disciples addressed were Jews. But the instruction by its own nature goes out to any man. It is profitable for all the faithful, for the non-Jew as much as for the Jew... The non-Jewish believer has the same heart as the Jewish one. He is in the same world, and has to do with enemies and with those who hate. So this word is valuable... It goes completely against nature. It is the revelation of what God is, applied to govern the heart of His children.

From verse 27 He shows what must be the conduct of the disciples as such. They were to display God, to unfold what was shown in Him. The grace that was full and perfect in Him should show itself again in them. That is the principle of our path, sadly as we all fail in it. "Love your enemies," etc. God loved us when we were His enemies, and we have now to show in practice what God is.

Love is not just a kind feeling. It is real concern for the true, proper good of another. If that person returns hatred, that is all the more reason to care for him, because he needs special help. Doing good in return for evil represents God rightly. It also sets an example that should touch the hearts and consciences of others... The power of the Holy Spirit greatly changes our natural resentment, when we let Him work in us without grieving or quenching Him.

The love that can go forth and even embrace an enemy is not human but Divine; whereas any sinner can love the one who loves him. The disciple of Jesus is to be a lover, a blesser, a giver.

And here I find what is entirely beyond law. Law tells me to love others as myself; grace tells me to give myself up entirely for my neighbour or for anybody. Did not God forgive you? You go and forgive your enemies. Is He kind to the unthankful and the evil? You go and be the same. It tests all the fibres of our hearts, all the pride and vanity and selfishness that are in us.

All that Luke says is, "But I say to you who hear." The disciples He spoke to were Jews. But the teaching by its own nature goes out to anyone, and is useful for all believers, to the Gentile as much as to the Jew… The Gentile believer has the same heart as the Jewish one, lives in the same world, and has to deal with enemies and with people who hate. So such a word is valuable… This goes right against nature. It is the revelation of what God is, applied to govern the heart of His children. This is what He was doing, and showing in Christ, and the children are called to imitate their Father.

The Lord looks for active good, and for looking to God on behalf of those who might treat them spitefully. So it is not only kindness and pity; there is earnest and sincere pleading with God for their blessing.

So we are to pray for "all men" — not only for those who govern well, but also for those who treat God's people spitefully (Luke 6:28). We are to pray, not that judgment will fall on those who persecute God's people, but that in sovereign grace they will be saved.

And here I find what is entirely beyond law. Law tells me to love others as myself; grace tells me to give myself up entirely for my neighbour or for anybody. Did not God forgive you? You go and forgive your enemies. Is He kind to the unthankful and the evil? You go and be the same. It tests all the fibres of our hearts, all the pride and vanity and selfishness that are in us.

Doing good in return for evil represents God rightly. It also sets an example that should touch the hearts and consciences of others. This, and returning blessing for cursing, needs the lowly dignity of true faith. So do the things that follow, such as praying for someone who treats you spitefully (v.28). The power of the Holy Spirit greatly changes our natural resentment, when we let Him work in us without grieving Him or quenching Him.

The repeating of this command adds greatly to its divine force and importance. We must face it honestly, however hard it is to obey in its true sense. It is the special privilege of the Christian to pray for all men, friends and enemies. God has given him this place of honour — to bless others by his prayers. He should be like a vessel from which the precious blessings of Christ flow out to enrich many around him. Nature would return evil for evil and hold on to feelings of revenge. But grace says, following the example of the blessed Lord and His martyr Stephen, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

His urgent, pleading earnestness was for others — divine love for his enemies, the very men murdering him. It also reproduced the spirit of Christ… It stands before us as the pattern for a believer today: practical grace rising above all injury and malice.

Under the old arrangement the law laid down the principle, in righteousness, "An eye for an eye" (Ex. 21:24), and so restrained the wrath of man. Otherwise he would have demanded two eyes for one, in vengeance. But here an entirely new principle is introduced... It is the very opposite of nature, which loves to avenge itself. It is different from righteousness, which measures out even-handed justice. It is the beautiful spirit of grace... Even so the disciple should be more than righteous: he should be gracious. While walking through this world, it is better to lose his "cloak" than to give up those lovely principles of grace that mark him out as one who belongs to Christ.

In the Gospel of Matthew the case is of one who sues at law... Luke, on the contrary, writes, "him that takes away your cloak, do not forbid your tunic also." This is not a case of legal suing, but of illegal violence. The disciple is not to resist the robber who takes the outer garment, even if he goes on to take the inner one also... The Jew needed guarding above all on the side of law. But there is also violence in the world that breaks the law. The disciples needed to see this: it was their calling and privilege to hold fast their heavenly principles in the face of man's force, no less than law.

It may be personal lawlessness, an unjust suit, or a hard law; but the disciple of Christ is taught by the Master to bow. What is a brutal insult compared with truly representing Him? Consistency with Him is worth far more than one's coat, and cloak as well.

The government of the world is not in question, but the path of disciples in it... We may still let the man who sues us have the cloak as well as the coat he has gained by fraud. That is clearly within our rights. If the cause were another man's, we would have no such right. We may not help men escape justice or make light of it. The Lord could never lay down a general rule that His people should allow lawlessness. Nor would He have them treat the rights of others as unimportant. He speaks only of what is personal to oneself — "smite you," "sue you," "compel you."

Was this paying evil back in its own coin? On the contrary, it was One who did no sin, and no deceit was found in His mouth. When He was reviled, He did not revile in return. When He suffered, He did not threaten. In fact He offered far more than the other cheek. They spat in His face, beat Him, and struck Him with the palms of their hands in utter contempt. No — the Lord yielded to wrong instead of resisting it; and such is the true calling of the Christian.

This passage has nothing to do with the presence or absence of sin. It is about the principles of the believer's conduct — that is, about taking his Master's principles completely as his rule of conduct. Here again the Christian is not to act on the law of retaliation, or on the principles of the Jews. He is to act on the principles of Jesus Christ Himself.

It is no question of foolish extravagance, but of an open hand and heart to every call of need. "From one who takes away your goods do not demand them back." This matters greatly. There should be patient endurance of personal wrong. There should also be the testimony that our life does not consist in the things we have.

He did not stop there. He told the disciple to give as a habit to the one who asked. For what had the disciple himself not received from the divine Giver, beyond everything he asked? As the object of countless and rich mercies, was he to turn away from someone who would ask or borrow?

Even under the law, a Jew was not allowed to lend to his brother at interest. Instead, he was to open his hand wide to him. The Lord Jesus here sets no limits on giving and lending. For God, the great Giver, did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all. He who freely gives us all things along with Him loves a cheerful giver.

Giving to everyone who asks from us must be subject to sober wisdom. Someone may ask for a large sum to spend on a questionable project, and concern for his own good might be reason to refuse. We must also draw a firm line when people who claim to be the Lord's servants urge us to give to their own work. Too many take advantage of Christianity to make money. But if one is in need and asks for something to relieve that need, we ought to be ready to give him what is necessary... The Lord is seeking in all of this to draw out the genuine faith of His people. He is certainly not bullying His own... Also, if someone has taken away what belongs to us, faith will make no demands for its return. But if someone borrows and forgets to repay, it would be only right to remind him — not because we want our rights, but to help him become dependable.

These instructions fitted exactly the people called to follow Christ during His time on earth. Their spirit applies just as much to those called to follow Him while He is absent in heaven. This is the day of grace, when the gospel of grace is preached. So it matters greatly that the spirit of grace should mark us. How often, sadly, our conduct has contradicted the cause we belong to. A little ungracious practice by the preacher or his friends can cancel out a great deal of gracious preaching.

"Thank," or "grace" (χάρις). Matthew (Matt. 5:46) has "reward," where Luke in verse 24 has "consolation."

To love those who love us is not the point for a Christian; it is only a human principle. As the Lord says here, "even sinners love those who love them." Luke does not say tax collectors or Gentiles, as Matthew does. He says "sinners," which matches his usual moral tone. This was true of people everywhere, and the word "sinner" is both fitting and forceful. Not only men, but bad men, may love those who love them. Doing good to those who do good to us is also only a fair return, and even evil people can make it. The same goes for lending, when they hope to borrow later or to be paid back. Sinners do just as much. But for us the word is "love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great."

The spirit of grace stands out in verses 27-38. The love that can go forth and even embrace an enemy is not human but Divine; whereas any sinner can love the one who loves him. The disciple of Jesus is to be someone who loves, blesses, and gives.

God is love in His nature, and all love finds its source in God. So those who belong to God should show their love to one another — the love that belongs to God and His children. It is impossible for someone who has not been born again to show divine love, for "everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God" (1 John 4:7). Men love with natural love, and "even sinners love those who love them" (Luke 6:32). But only those born of God can display the divine nature, loving with the same love seen in Jesus.

From verse 27 He shows how His disciples must live. They were to show God — to unfold what was displayed in Him... "Love your enemies." God loved us when we were His enemies, and now we have to show in practice what God is... Flesh can love for love (v. 32, 33), but the disciples of Christ are called to imitate God and walk in love.

Notice how independent grace is. Rain and dew wait for no one. God acts on His own, out of His own heart, when He gives His gracious blessing. Those who drink in His grace act from Him in the same way, without first waiting to see signs of worthiness. We are often ready to say, "If only we could see some return for our love!" That is not it. If only we were a little more conscious of God's infinite love and grace to us, we would be more like a dew from Him to others.

Luke 6:32. — "Thank" here is the word for "grace" (charis); the Latin Vulgate has "gratia." Matthew (Matt. 5:46) has "reward"; the matching word in Luke, in verse 24, is "consolation."

Loving those who love us is not the point for a Christian. It is a merely human principle — as the Lord says with emphasis here, "even sinners love those who love them." Matthew names tax collectors or Gentiles; Luke says "sinners," which matches his ordinary moral tone. This was true of people everywhere, and the word "sinner" is fitting and forceful. Not only men, but bad men, can love those who love them. In the same way, doing good to those who do good to us is only a right return, and even evil people can make it. The same is true of lending, when they hope to borrow or to be repaid. Sinners do just as much.

This stands in contrast with the way of the world. The world is quite capable of returning love for love, of doing good to those who do good to them, and of lending in the hope of getting back as much. But to love and do good and lend with no hope of return — that would be conduct fit for the sons of the Most High, because He is kind to the unthankful and the evil.

And here I find what is entirely beyond law. Law tells me to love others as myself; grace tells me to give myself up entirely for my neighbour or for anybody. Did not God forgive you? You go and forgive your enemies. Is He kind to the unthankful and the evil? You go and be the same. It tests all the fibres of our hearts, all the pride and vanity and selfishness that are in us.

From verse 27 He shows what the conduct of the disciples must be. They were to make God known, to unfold what was displayed in Him. The grace that was in Him in fullness and perfection should show itself again in them — that is the principle of our path, sadly as we all fail in it… Human nature can love in return for love (v. 32, 33), but the disciples of Christ are called to imitate God, and to walk in love.

So the call in this Gospel does not run as in Matthew, "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect," but "Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful."… The disciple, taught by Jesus, had the Father's Name made known to him, and his perfection is to show his Father's character in grace that makes no distinctions — not in the spirit of law. Writing for non-Jewish readers, Luke simply calls them to be merciful as their Father was merciful. This would be clear even to people who had no detailed knowledge of the Old Testament.

Loving those who love us is not the point for a Christian. It is only a human principle. As the Lord stresses here, "even sinners love those who love them." Matthew has tax collectors or Gentiles; Luke has "sinners," which fits his usual moral tone. This was true of people everywhere, and the word "sinner" is fitting and forceful. Not only ordinary people, but bad people, can love those who love them. In the same way, doing good to those who do good to us is only a fair return, and evil people are capable of it. So is lending, when they hope to borrow or to be repaid. Sinners do just as much.

The way of the world stands in contrast with this. The world is quite able to return love for love, to do good to those who do good to them, and to lend in the hope of getting back as much. But to love, do good, and lend with no hope of return — that would be conduct fit for the sons of the Most High, because He is kind to the ungrateful and the evil.

So the question turns mainly on what the context requires. When you weigh verses 30-34 with care, it is surprising that such an unnatural sense should be given to the word in verse 35. Look above all at the verse just before it: "And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount." What could be simpler than the opposite call of grace — love, do good, lend, "hoping for nothing again"? (Compare Luke 14:12.)

And here I find what is entirely beyond law. Law tells me to love others as myself; grace tells me to give myself up entirely for my neighbour or for anybody. Did not God forgive you? You go and forgive your enemies. Is He kind to the unthankful and the evil? You go and be the same. It tests all the fibres of our hearts, all the pride and vanity and selfishness that are in us.

"The wicked borrows but does not pay back, but the righteous is generous and gives" (Psalm 37:21). That is in beautiful harmony with the God who is rich in mercy. He showed us that mercy by making us alive when we were dead in our sins (Ephesians 2; see also Luke 6:30-36). Again, "whoever is generous to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will repay him for his deed" (Proverbs 19:17).

There are people who would not ask for a gift, but would not hesitate to ask for a loan, though they have little intention of paying it back. It would be wrong for us to encourage dishonesty in anyone. Yet as far as we ourselves are concerned, it is better to suffer wrong than to demand our rights. Faith on our part can leave such things in the hand of God.

To love those who love us is not the point for a Christian; it is a mere human principle. As the Lord says here, "even sinners love those who love them." Matthew has tax collectors or Gentiles; Luke has "sinners," which suits the ordinary moral tone of this Gospel. This was true of man everywhere, and the word "sinner" fits exactly and carries weight. Not only men, but bad men, may love those who love them. Doing good to those who do good to us is only a fair return, and even evil people can make it. The same is true of lending, when they hope to borrow or to receive.

Genuine love is much more than this. It has honest care even for enemies, doing good and lending without expecting to get anything back (v.35). Some people would never ask for a gift, yet they will readily ask for a loan, though they have little intention of paying it back. It would be wrong for us to encourage dishonesty in anyone. But for ourselves, it is better to suffer wrong than to demand our rights. Faith on our part can leave such things in the hand of God.

And here I find what is entirely beyond law. Law tells me to love others as myself; grace tells me to give myself up entirely for my neighbour or for anybody. Did not God forgive you? You go and forgive your enemies. Is He kind to the unthankful and the evil? You go and be the same. It tests all the fibres of our hearts, all the pride and vanity and selfishness that are in us.

They were to be gentle and yielding toward their enemies. They were to treat others as they would want to be treated. They were to remember whose children they were, and to show by their behaviour the outflow of the Divine nature — that they were sons, as we should read, of the Highest, who is kind to the unthankful and to the evil (6:35).

They were to show God — to unfold what was displayed in Him. The grace that was in Him in fullness and perfection should come out in them, though we all fail sadly in this. That is the principle of our path. "Love your enemies," etc. God loved us when we were His enemies, and we have now to show practically what God is.

He gives the increase of the earth in answer to man's toil upon it. Every good and perfect gift comes down from Him. He keeps giving, though the crowds never so much as thank Him for His gifts. He makes His sun rise on the evil and the good. He sends rain on the just and the unjust, and He is kind to the unthankful and the evil.

The service of love is never influenced by recompense. Reward is not held before the soul as the motive for doing anything. But when we find the path of service hard, then the crown is held before us to encourage us to go on.

What a blessed character of God comes out here! It is not righteousness, though surely there was that; but in the world where God had to do with the unthankful and evil, He shows grace. For the angels He has not grace, but love: but Christ in this world of sin is grace (that is, love to those who deserve it not). "Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful." It is not "with" but "as your Father." As He loves His enemies, so do you; He is merciful, be merciful also. ... It must cost us something; it cost the life of Christ. His love was a stream, which, if it met with hindrances in its way, only went on flowing over, and leaving them behind till it reached the cross.

So the call in our Gospel is not the one in Matthew, "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." It is "Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful." The perfection in Matthew seems to point back to the call on Abraham, whose perfection was to walk in integrity, trusting in the shadow of the Almighty. The disciple, taught by Jesus, had the Father's Name declared to him. His perfection is to display his Father's character in grace that makes no distinctions — not in the spirit of law. Writing for readers who were not Jews, Luke simply calls them to be merciful as their Father was merciful.

Now this word "merciful" is most remarkable... They are all the mercies expressed in redemption — the unfoldings of the heart of God in the display of His grace in our salvation... So when our blessed Lord tells us to be merciful, as our Father is merciful, He reminds us that it is our responsibility to represent the Father. We are to tell out the virtues of Him who has called us out of darkness into His marvellous light. We are to act towards others as He has acted towards us, so that the Father's heart and character show in our walk and ways. So we are to do good to all, to be givers who expect nothing back, and to love our enemies. Otherwise we would misrepresent our God and Father.

Verses 27-36. The character of God their Father, shown in the grace displayed in Christ, which they were to imitate. He reveals, note, the Father's name and puts them in the place of children.

If hated, they were to love and to do good to them. Cursed, they were to bless them. Wrongly used, they were to pray for them. A gentle, yielding spirit towards enemies was to mark them. They were to treat others as they would want to be treated. They were to remember whose children they were, and to show by their behaviour the outflow of the Divine nature: they were sons of the Highest, who is kind to the unthankful and to the evil.

Some people would not ask for a gift, but they would happily ask for a loan they have little intention of paying back. It would be wrong for us to encourage dishonesty in anyone. But so far as we ourselves are concerned, it is better to suffer wrong than to demand our rights. Faith on our part can leave such things in the hand of God. If we do, our reward will be great. In daily life we shall be children of the Highest, showing His character of kindness to all, whether they are thankful or not. The reason for our being merciful is simply that our Father is merciful (v.36).

So the call in this Gospel is not the one in Matthew, "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect," but "Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful." … Any believer can feel the force of a command like "Judge not, and you will not be judged." What is set before us here is the habit of fault-finding, the charging of people with bad motives, and the danger that it all comes back on us.

In verses 27-36 we see the character of God their Father, shown in the grace that came in Christ, and they were to copy it. Notice this: He makes the Father's name known, and He puts them in the place of children.

There is a wrong spirit of judgment. Suppose I spend my time needlessly thinking about others and giving my opinion of them. Suppose that, in unclear cases, I put wrong motives on them, even in my own mind. Suppose I do not even hope that the real motive was a good one. Then I am in the spirit of judgment, and away from God. And if I am bound to judge that someone is at fault, but hardness towards the person takes hold of me, that is not the Spirit of God.

Selfish people can easily abuse this principle. Suppose someone is living an evil life and uses this passage to deny that anyone has a right to judge his conduct. Clearly he has no conscience about it and no spiritual understanding. Self has blinded him, and he is only turning the Lord's words into an excuse for sin. … It is plain, therefore, that there is a sense in which I am to judge, and another in which I am not.

If we are to be merciful, we must drop the judging, critical attitude, even when others are wrong (v.37). We are not their masters. If we do speak of their wrongs, let it be from a real desire to see them restored and blessed, not to put them down. As a rule, if we hold back harsh criticism, we find others are less likely to criticize us. If we forgive others freely, they are more likely to forgive us. And we must remember that there are times when we need forgiveness too.

On the other hand, the Lord says, "forgive, and you will be forgiven." (The older translation the writer used reads, "release, and it shall be released to you.") That is the spirit of grace when we are wronged. "Give, and it will be given to you." That is the spirit of large generosity. And who ever knew a giver who had nothing to give or to receive?

The heavenly Father rules His children in holiness, and an unforgiving spirit brings His discipline. If someone wrongs us and we refuse to forgive, we will miss His forgiveness in the way He deals with us day by day. This is not about forgiveness for eternity. The Lord was speaking to disciples, and that great matter was already settled for them.

On blind leaders, compare Matthew 15:14. It refers to the shepherds' custom, when angry with their flock, of giving them a blind sheep as a leader. The same was done with bad administrators of a town.

The "blind" here are, no doubt, first of all the Jewish leaders. But being a follower will not save a man from the pit. The truth speaks for itself to anyone who has ears to hear. Suppose a man hands himself over entirely to another's leadership. Then his conscience stands before man, not before God... Whatever a man yields himself to is bound to shape him. So if he gives himself to a teacher of error, he will not rise above his teacher. Once fully trained, he will only be like him.

Authority then is nothing, if it is not the authority of the word of God. That is the test — is it according to the Scriptures?... To say, "I could not, of course, know: I trusted another" will not save you from the pit.

The first principle the Lord lays down here is this: a man must see for himself to lead others rightly. Christianity supposes a new nature and the Spirit of God. A man without that nature and the power of the Spirit cannot rightly help others... Anyone called to help others on must be taught of God. Not in mind only, but in heart and conscience. He must be well furnished in Scripture, so that he can rightly handle the word of truth. The blind, therefore, cannot lead the blind. Nor is it Christianity that the seeing should lead the blind. The true principle of our calling is that the seeing should lead the seeing — the very reverse of the blind leading the blind.

Whatever the believer receives, whatever the means used, rests on the word of God and not on the authority of a church or a teacher. If the teacher is removed or goes astray, he still sees the truth for himself in the light of God.

This is just what the Christian world is falling into fast, by confusing Christianity with Judaism. Some take the side of unbelief, some the side of superstition. But both fall into the pit, on the one side or the other.

The Lord's parable in verse 39 connects with verses 37 and 38. If someone is blind to what the Lord has been teaching, he needs another with open eyes to lead him. If both are blind, neither has a proper example to follow: they both fall into the pit. The believer is not blind, but let him keep his eyes open!... Let us therefore learn well from the Lord Himself, and we shall become more like Him.

A man must judge evil within himself before he can judge it outside. That gives tenderness and compassion, as well as clear sight. Judging without self-judgment is only hypocrisy.

The first principle the Lord lays down here is that a man must see for himself if he is to lead others rightly... he who has not that nature and the power of the Spirit is incapable of rightly helping others... The blind, therefore, cannot lead the blind. Neither is it Christianity that the seeing should lead the blind. The true principle of our calling is that the seeing should lead the seeing. That is the very opposite of the blind leading the blind.

Although every believer is supposed to see, yet he may not see clearly. He has the capacity, but he may not yet have practised using it. But once the truth is set out plainly, he can see it at once, and perhaps as clearly as the man who taught it. So what he receives stands on the Word of God, whatever means were used, and not on the authority of a church or a teacher. If the teacher is taken away or goes astray, he still sees the truth for himself in the light of God.

"Everyone that is perfect shall be as his Master." (Luke 6:40, older translation.) This points to the principles of the believer's conduct. It means taking in his Master's principles in full. There is no reference here to the nature of the disciple, but to the light and principles that ought to guide him. We can allow no example but the perfect walk of Jesus Christ Himself.

The disciple is to be conformed to Christ... It was not salvation, but discipleship, that was in question here. What He expressed was the thing to learn, and the blessed privilege of the disciple was to be conformed to his Master. The teaching was the expression of the truth of His character.

On the other hand, "the disciple is not above his teacher." Our portion is according to Christ. Christ was despised, and so are we. Christ was persecuted, and so must the disciple be content to be. He has Christ's portion: if above, so upon earth.

Through his trials the Apostle proved the truth of the Lord's words to His own: "A disciple is not above his teacher" (Luke 6:40). If the Master suffered in passing through a world of sin and sorrow, so will His disciples suffer. But if in our little measure we taste "the sufferings of the Christ," we shall also experience the consolations of Christ.

The disciple is not above his master, but you shall be as your Master... If Christ teaches you, it is to make you have the divine learning that He has Himself. And see what a place He gives us! When He gives, what does He give? The very same that He has Himself. "As He is, so are we in this world."

There may be things, and there are many, which Jesus as Lord does not command, but which as Master He teaches. I believe most inconsistencies are justified on this ground: they are not forbidden, or the word does not lay down that line of conduct in an orderly way... I believe many of the good works that adorn the gospel are not pressed on us by a positive commandment. We learn them in the school of Christ. He is our one Master, and we are His disciples.

The Lord Jesus now gives His disciples a very clear picture. It shows how foolish a person is who thinks he can judge his brother while looking down on him. The speck in the brother's eye is the wrong thing one thinks he sees in him. But the beam in the eye is the evil in one's own heart. A person deliberately overlooks it, though it is plain to see. An experienced man once said: "I do not know as much evil about anyone as I know about myself. That makes me careful in judging others."

And this self-judgment is always of the "beam" as compared with the "mote" in others. For what can we know of others compared with what we may and should know of ourselves?

Then there is another danger, and that is being critical. We should warn against the habit of always seeing faults in others, and watch against it. "Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye?" What is the real root of it? Wherever there is the habit of noticing faults in others, there is always an overlooking of our own... love would meet another's need. Self is blind and busy. It forgets its own faults, but can be eager to correct others for its own glory.

The picture of the eye points to the state of the heart, as it does in chapter 6:22-23. The Lord seems to be thinking especially of the spiritual ability to judge. Think of someone whose ability to judge is badly blocked by his own unjudged sin. How could he help another who may have been caught in a fault through spiritual carelessness? It is simply impossible.

"To your brother." There is no spirit of love in it. A person cannot say "brother" sincerely while doing this. There is really pleasure in seeing the fault, a spirit of comparison... No one ought to find fault until he is able to say "Brother," in that spirit and because he loves him... "You do not notice" — it may be forgetfulness. But there is surely a real moral fault in this: we see our neighbour's sin and not our own. It is not so with the repentant man. Until he is cleared, he is full of his own sins. Then he can speak in the spirit of love that knows forgiveness.

Get the large thing removed first — the thing that stops you from seeing clearly. Most likely you will then find that the speck in your brother's eye is gone too. Very often people in a bad, sour state of soul are the ones who spot these specks. And if we really do see failure in another, what is the best use we can make of that discovery? To correct it in ourselves. Then we may help our brother.

Self-judgment by grace always tends to produce humility and love. Take the man who has been through such an exercise about the beam in his own eye. He will be able to act far more tenderly in taking the speck out of his brother's eye.

Any small particle or splinter. It pictures small failings, in contrast to larger faults, called "beams." The Lord Jesus was exposing the hypocrisy of those who see and magnify small faults in others, and pass over greater ones in themselves.

No matter what it is, if it is in my eye it is a beam, and no matter what it is in my brother's eye it is a mote until I have judged myself — "and then you will see clearly to cast the mote out of your brother's eye."

There is not the spirit of love in it. One cannot say "brother" sincerely in doing it, for indeed there is pleasure in seeing the fault, a spirit of comparison... Therefore He says elsewhere: "You hypocrite." It shows our mind is not changed about the thing, yet we find fault with it in another. So it is plainly not love... you are bad enough yourself, and so you cannot have a right moral judgment to direct others.

We must judge evil within ourselves before we judge it outside. This will give tenderness and compassion, as well as clear sight. Judging without self-judgment is but hypocrisy.

Wherever there is the habit of beholding faults in others, there is an overlooking of our own... Our own fault, unjudged, always obstructs our giving real help to another. But when we have judged ourselves, we not only see more clearly. We also take up the work more humbly and lovingly.

If we fail to see our own grave shortcomings and sins before God, we do not know our brothers with anything like the same certainty and clearness. So love and the fear of God call each of us to think others better than ourselves. We judge ourselves for what we do know, instead of judging others for what we do not know and ought not to think.

Again and again we find that when the beam is gone, the mote is nowhere to be seen. It has already disappeared... Should I not rejoice to find the grace of the Lord in my brother, if I discover in self-judgment that only I was wrong?

How often devout people use it to fend off any criticism of their own position! They use it to avoid any care against false doctrine, evil associations, or the responsibility for the discipline Scripture calls for. But this is a failure in godliness. Godliness covers not only personal conduct but also public walk.

Does God want evil like that dealt with in His Church? Surely He does. But what is the reason there is no power to deal with it? The reason is this. If I am to carry out any discipline on my brother, there must first be the deepest judgment of self. There must be the sense of my own sin and shortcoming, and the most unbending judgment of myself.

Then He shows how clearly it is a question of nature. "For no good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit." You cannot change the nature. The Lord did not yet show how the two natures act, or how allowing the old can hinder the fruits of the new creation. He simply points out that there are two natures. He does not speak here of the two natures existing side by side in the same person, though that is in fact true even of a real believer.

Judging yourself, and not your brother, was the way to gain clear moral sight. If the tree is good, the fruit will be good. Self-judgment applies to the trees. This is always true. In self-judgment, you do not only correct the fruit; you correct yourself. And the tree is known by its fruit — not only by good fruit, but by its own. The Christian bears the fruit of the nature of Christ.

Anyone can tell that the tree lives and is healthy, because of the crop it is bearing. Its life shows itself in fruit. If there were no fruit the tree had better be cut down as a waste of the ground. But there is fruit. It is the necessary evidence of the life. The fruit does not produce the life, but the life the fruit. You might decorate the tree with fruit, but that would not give it life.

From verse 43 the outward profession of discipleship is in view. The Lord may have had someone like Judas especially in mind in speaking this way. Among those who took the place of being His disciples there might be "an evil man" as well as "a good man." Their fruits tell them apart, seen in both speech and action. Fruit reveals nature. We cannot see into the secrets of nature, either in a tree or in a man. But we can easily and correctly work out the nature from the fruit.

In these verses the Lord strikes at people who pretend to be good while His grace has never touched their hearts. They have no new life, so they are still under sin. A good person is one whose heart is purified by faith in the Son of God, for by nature "no one does good, not even one" (Rom. 3:12). Only the grace of God can make a difference in the person. In this case God plants a "good treasure" in his heart — the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, given to "jars of clay" (2 Cor. 4:6-7). Only good can come from this, however weak the vessel may be.

Then He shows how clearly it is a question of nature. "For there is no good tree which produces corrupt fruit, nor a corrupt tree which produces good fruit." You cannot change the nature... At this point the Lord did not yet show how the two natures act, or how allowing the old one can hold back the fruits of the new creation. He only points out that there are two natures. He does not show them living side by side in the same person, which is what really happens even in a true believer.

"Every tree is known by its own fruit." This is peculiar to Luke — I mean the putting it in so strong a manner. Matthew says, "By their fruits you shall know them." Luke makes it more comprehensive and emphatic.

"Every tree is known by its own fruit." Not only bearing fruit, but fruit that Christ produces should be ours. An upright nature produces fruit too, like that of the young man who came to Jesus. But that was not divine fruit; it was the tree's own fruit. Where Christ is the root and the stock, the fruit is Christian fruit — fruit that will remain (John 15:16). Two men may go along together up to a point. Then some test for Christ comes: one goes on with Him, the other turns aside. "Its own fruit" — fruit shows itself, springs of itself.

Judging yourself, and not your brother, was the way to clear moral sight. If the tree is good, the fruit will be good. Self-judgment applies to the trees. This is always true. In self-judgment, it is not only the fruit that is corrected; it is oneself. And the tree is known by its fruit — not only by good fruit, but by its own. The Christian bears the fruit of the nature of Christ.

So if man seeks to cultivate the flesh, even in its fairest forms, he is doomed to disappointment. If I cultivate a thorn-bush under the illusion that it is a vine, I shall only increase the size and number of the thorns and not succeed in getting one grape. No one would be so foolish as to mistake a thorn-bush for a vine. But sadly, in moral and spiritual things, even leaders in the Christian world are making a worse mistake, and the consequences are graver.

The outward character of people's actions does not matter. Some actions win the applause of others; some bring down their condemnation. But as long as they come from people who have not been born again, they are nothing but evil in the sight of God... So, as Luther said, it is not a question of doing, but of being; not a question of the character of actions, but a question of nature.

Thorns and thistles came into the world as a result of Adam's sin. God drove him out of the beautiful garden of Eden, and the ground would be cursed because of him and would produce thorns and thistles. Many times in the Bible thorns picture wicked people, and just as thorns are burned in the fire, the prophets spoke of a righteous God punishing the wicked.

If we foster wrong and unkind thoughts sooner or later they will become wrong and unkind words and deeds. If, on the other hand, we treasure the words and teaching of our blessed Lord, we shall speak kind words and act in kindness and love as He did.

Then He shows plainly that it is a question of nature. "For no good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit." You cannot change the nature. … "Each tree is known by its own fruit." This is unique to Luke — I mean the way Luke states it so strongly. Matthew says, "You will recognize them by their fruits." Luke makes it wider and stronger.

From verse 43 the Lord looks at the outward profession of discipleship. He may have had someone like Judas in view as He spoke. Among those who took the place of being His disciples there might be "an evil man" as well as "a good man." Their fruits show which they are, in both speech and action. Fruit reveals nature. We cannot see into the hidden nature of a tree or a man, but the fruit tells us what it is, easily and correctly.

In these verses the Lord strikes at people's pretence of goodness while their hearts stay untouched by His grace. They are not born again, so they are still under sin. A good person is one whose heart is purified by faith in the Son of God, for by nature "no one does good, not even one" (Rom. 3:12). Only the grace of God can make a difference in the person. In this case God plants a "good treasure" in his heart. It is the treasure of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, given to "jars of clay" (2 Cor. 4:6-7). Only good can come from this, however weak the vessel may be. Without this good treasure a person has only "an evil treasure" in his heart, and his mouth soon expresses it, for whatever fills the heart most is what the mouth will speak.

But Luke presents the matter far more as a moral principle. It is true of every man that out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks. This is an important test for the state of our souls. Our lips betray the condition of our heart — of our affections.

What is really filling my heart will come off my tongue. And therefore you can always tell what my heart is occupied with, because I have a tongue. I cannot long deceive you.

The evil is not the things themselves dug out of the earth, but the love in the heart for them. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks." An impatient word betrays the heart. A blow I may restrain and yet utter the word.

"And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart" — at the very source of all the issues of life. This is very precious. Whatever is in the heart comes out through the lips, and in the life. How important then, to have the heart full of the word of God! It should be so full that we have no room for the vanities and follies of this present evil world… So we can judge what is in the heart by what comes out of the mouth. The tongue is the organ of the heart — the organ of the man… the heart is the mainspring of our entire moral condition.

It is true of every man, that out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks, and this is an important test for the state of our souls. Our lips betray the condition of our heart — of our affections. Then there is another thing. If we own Christ to be Lord in word, how is it that we do not do what He says? The very saying that He is Lord implies the obligation of subjection to Him.

Deceit in one's heart will often result in good-sounding words. One of the worst forms of hypocrisy is to call Jesus "Lord" when one has no intention of obeying Him (v.46), but this is as common an evil today as it was when He was here. This does not at all contradict 1 Corinthians 12:3, which says, "no one can say that Jesus is Lord except by the Holy Spirit". There Paul is speaking of ministry given in the church, where the Lordship of Christ was paramount. But here in Luke the Lord does not have the church in mind at all, but people who casually use the Lord's name without any thought of subjection to Him.

This leads to the consideration that mere profession counts for nothing. Men may repeatedly call Jesus their Lord, but if there is no obedience to His word, there is no discipleship that He acknowledges. Only obedience lays a foundation that cannot be shaken when testing comes.

Whoever proves his faith by his obedience will never be moved or ashamed... The heaviest blow, when the Lord returns in glory, will fall not on those who have never heard the Gospel, but on the baptized who have heard it and not obeyed.

To say Lord, Lord, without doing His Father's will, is worthless. Many will say in the future day of account, "Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?" But He will answer, "I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness." It was hollow profession, whatever the works of power, which only made the guilt worse and will add to endless regret.

I do not speak here of privilege, but of obedience. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord, and not do what I tell you?" Is it because our eyes cannot see Him at present that there should be no loyalty of heart? It is amazing how little real regard we pay to the word of our Lord. Thousands of believers stay away from the table of the Lord, with plenty of excuses but no good reason at all. The smallest trifle, which would never keep them away from business or even from pleasure, becomes excuse enough for staying at home.

Often to say the name "Lord" means nothing. But to give ourselves up in everything to His will, as shown in His Word — that is what it really means to acknowledge that He is Lord... Far be it from us to think it is bondage to obey Jesus! He has revealed Himself to us as our precious Saviour, our peace, our joy, our hope, our heaven, our all, so that He may win our hearts for Himself. He does not want the cold service of the apprentice or the slave. He wants the loving heart-service of His chosen friends.

From Matthew 7:24 onward, the Lord is showing the great thing: having the right foundation, one that will bear all testing. It is true that hearing is not enough — it is "Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them." In Luke it is, "Everyone who comes to me." The coming would speak of faith. You get this in Hebrews: "Whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him." So if there is hearing and no doing, the root of the matter is not there.

If we own Christ to be Lord in word, how is it that we do not do what He says? The very saying that He is Lord implies the obligation of subjection to Him... The heeding of the words of Christ is what survives every shock of the adversary. He who proves his faith in this way, by his obedience, shall never be moved nor ashamed... The heaviest blow, when the Lord returns in glory, will fall not on those who never heard, but on the baptized who heard the Gospel and did not obey it.

Mere profession counts for nothing. Men may repeatedly call Jesus their Lord, but if there is no obedience to His word, there is no discipleship that He acknowledges. Only obedience lays the kind of foundation that cannot be shaken under the testings. Just hearing His word, without obedience, may put up a structure that looks like the real thing. But it means disaster in the day of testing.

A man sets to work to build a house; he first looks for a foundation. He selects the rock. That is wise, at any rate; but merely to lay the stones on the surface would be folly. So he digs! This means toil, but it is toil that pays. He digs deep! This means determination. He dreads being shallow and flimsy. He expects the flood to rise and the stream to beat, and perhaps to beat hard. So he counts every extra spadeful quarried out of the rock invaluable, and every effort that binds the rock and the house together.

The ones who dig deep are those who kneel before God in complete dependence on Him, and who search His word each day. This is the proof of building on the rock. Nor does anyone advance in divine ways who fails in these two spiritual exercises.

Here the Lord approves and encourages real faith. It is faith that takes His Word to heart and responds in obedient action. The Person of the Lord Jesus means everything to that person. He digs deep, through all the mere build-up of earthly-mindedness, and reaches the bedrock. That bedrock pictures Christ as the Son of God. He wants reality and is satisfied with nothing less than the eternal Son of God to build his whole life on.

This is not a question of building upon Christ, the Rock, for the salvation of the sinner. It is the path of the saint... The very thing people are called on to do is to follow Him. When I follow, it proves that the Master's words have taken such hold on my soul that they can carry me over the difficulties.

His one foundation must be the teaching of the Son of God. Without that, he has nothing at all that will help him when the storm of divine judgement arises... All who bow at His feet, owning who He is and what His sacrifice has done, have laid their foundation on the rock.

The Lord is showing that the great thing is to have the right foundation, the kind that will bear all testing. It is true that it is not enough to hear. It is "everyone who hears these words of mine and does them." In Luke it is, "everyone who comes to me." The coming would speak of faith. You get this in Hebrews: "whoever would draw near to God must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who seek Him." So if there is only hearing and no doing, the root of the matter is not there... Hearing, with the doing also, means reality; and nothing but reality will do for God.

A man sets to work to build a house; he first looks for a foundation. He selects the rock. That is wise, at any rate; but simply to lay the stones on the surface would be folly. So he digs! This means hard work, but work that pays. He digs deep! This means determination. He dreads anything shallow or flimsy. He expects the flood to rise and the stream to beat against it, perhaps violently. So every extra spadeful quarried out of the rock is priceless to him, and so is every effort that binds the rock and the house together. He does not begrudge the labour.

Those who know how to kneel down before God in complete dependence on Him, and who daily search His word — they are the ones who dig deep. They give proof of building on the rock. Nor does anyone make progress in divine things who fails in these two spiritual exercises.

He digs deep, through the whole build-up of earthly-mindedness, until he reaches the bedrock. That bedrock is a picture of Christ as the Son of God. He wants reality, and nothing less than the eternal Son of God will do as the base for his whole life. Whatever floods or storms arise, he is not moved, for it is the foundation Rock that secures him.

This leads to the thought that mere profession counts for nothing. Men may call Jesus their Lord again and again. But if there is no obedience to His word, there is no discipleship that He recognises. Only obedience lays the kind of foundation that cannot be shaken under testing. Hearing His word without obeying it may put up a building that looks like the real thing. But on the day of testing it means disaster.

The floods are certain to rise, and the streams to beat. We may expect enemies of every kind to attack the truth — unbelief, immorality, imitation, persecution, trial, worldliness, even Satan himself. Nothing overcomes them except faithfulness to God and the Spirit-given use of the word.

If we call Christ Lord with our words, why do we not do what He says? Calling Him Lord in itself means we are bound to submit to Him... Paying heed to the words of Christ is what survives every shock of the enemy. The one who proves his faith in this way, by his obedience, shall never be moved or ashamed.

If we own Christ to be Lord in word, how come we do not do what He says? The very saying that He is Lord implies the obligation of subjection to Him... Paying attention to the words of Christ is what survives every shock of the adversary. He who proves his faith in this way by his obedience will never be moved or ashamed.

On the other hand, if one "hears" with no resulting obedience, he is building without a foundation. To him the words of the Lord Jesus are merely optional principles of a good man, not having great importance. To such a person the Lord's words do not show the truth of who the Lord Jesus is. But to separate His words from the solid, eternal truth of His person as the living Son of God leaves the hearer wide open to the storms of life. He has no place to stand at all.

Preaching morals to others, or hearing even Christ's words without any fruit, only adds to one's own condemnation. Nothing can take the place of real obedience of heart.

The heaviest blow of the Lord returning in glory will fall, not on pagans who have never heard, but on the baptized who have heard the Gospel and not obeyed it.

This is how vividly the Lord of all describes the collapse of all the hopes of those who have not built on His words. Heaven is silent today... but a real hurricane of divine wrath will burst out before long. It will show beyond dispute where men really stand. Every unreal structure will then totter and fall. Some people have a fine moral and religious appearance. That will not shield them from judgement if they have not, as lost sinners, put their trust in the Saviour and in His precious blood.

Useless indeed is the profession of the lips — the saying "Lord, Lord" — unless the life confirms it. Not that the best life will justify before God, or save in the day when everything that can be shaken will be shaken. But it is still evidence that Christ is the foundation of the soul — of a house built secure against all the storms that can hit it. Faith in Christ must, of course, be real. But the more real a person's faith in other things, the more complete the delusion. The ruin waiting for him is surer and more deadly. "The ruin of that house was great."

The crowds were present, but He addressed the discourse to His disciples. … Compare Luke 7:1, and the facts come out plainly. There it says, "After he had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people." … He preached the good news of the kingdom. In the sermon on the mount, He lays down its principles, describes the character of those who would enjoy its privileges, and gives clear directions for how they are to conduct themselves. … So the subject of the discourse is moral principles and precepts, not redemption.

Up to the end of Luke 6, the Lord is still inside the borders of Israel, though there are certainly principles of grace here that hint at much more — God's mercy going out to every soul of man. Yet until the end of that chapter the Lord does not go beyond the godly Jews now joined to Himself, joined in mission too, as the apostles. If He gathers, He sends out from Himself to gather to Himself.

In the chapter that follows (Luke 7) we shall see the Lord prove even more plainly that grace cannot be tied to Jewish limits. His was a power which the Gentile owns to be absolute over all — over death as well as over nature.

We have already had the leper in Luke 5. Matthew moves it, so as to place it beside the centurion's servant, the account that opens this chapter. The leper shows the dealings of the Lord Jesus and the character of His ministry among the Jews. The centurion's servant bears witness to the great change about to take place, when mercy would go out to the Gentiles on the rejection of Israel. The Spirit of God led Luke, as we have seen, to use it for a completely different purpose. In Luke the leper goes with the paralytic man, not with the centurion, to bring out the different moral effects of sin, not a change of dispensation.

The Lord Himself spoke of this mark of outward privilege and its abuse in solemn and weighty words: "And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? You will be brought down to Hades. For if the mighty works done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day" (Matt. 11:23). Capernaum did not repent at the preaching of Jesus. Its unbelieving people must each answer for themselves in a day of judgment still to come. And this town, the Lord's own city in Galilee, has been so completely destroyed that no one can now identify its site for certain.

It would seem there was only one synagogue in Capernaum — the one where the Lord had already shown His power (4:33), and where He so often taught.

His slave was dear — yes, precious — to him, but sick and about to die. Yet the centurion did not present himself to the Lord. He came to Him only in the way a man is said to do himself what he does through others. He was no heathen. He honoured the Jewish people, low as they were, because God chose them and entrusted them with His oracles, the Scriptures.

In this case, the centurion fully realized his place and asked only as an undeserving Gentile, not for himself, but for a servant who was dear to him. The Jews testified to the fine character of the centurion as one who loved the Jewish nation, even to the point of building a synagogue for them.

An officer over about 100 men. They were promoted to this office because of their good conduct and trustworthiness. It is worth noting how often the Gospels and the Acts speak well of centurions.

Here we have the case of the centurion, and a very full and striking one it is. It is not merely an act of grace, but grace to a Gentile. Nor is this all. It brings out the principle on which the apostle rests this question. "That is why it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his offspring." Faith comes in as the great turning point. It was no mere theory; it was living faith, and such faith as had not been seen in Israel.

Then we have the faith of a Gentile. He owns Christ's divine supremacy over all things, whether disease or distance here below. Nothing could be too great for Him. Jesus, the day after, proves His power over death.

The centurion took his place at once, and he pleads through the Jews. This is a beautiful instance of the intelligence of faith. He took his place as a Gentile, having no right to approach the Lord directly, but comes through His own nation. There is great beauty in an understanding lit up by the mind of Christ. He approached by the right door — he reached the Lord through the elders of the Jews.

He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and neither did he think himself worthy to go to the Lord. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in every extremity the opportunity for grace worthy of God, and for the glory of such a One as Jesus. "But say the word, and let my servant be healed." So the "word," as we regularly find in Luke, has the leading place. The turning point is not the bodily presence even of the Messiah, but the word.

Dear reader, in all your deep need as a sinner, may repentance toward God be yours. That means taking sides with God against yourself. May faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ be yours too. That means bringing in God as He has been pleased to reveal Himself (Acts 20:21)… The One who met the centurion in his extremity is the only One who can meet you in yours. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" (Heb. 13:8).

It seems he had not seen Jesus. But from what he "heard" he was sure of this: diseases were nothing to Him. They were only occasions for Him to display His absolute authority and His sovereign mercy.

People read the word of God aloud in the synagogue, and it taught the centurion God's nature and ways. The Jews who listened learnt nothing of the kind. They felt no such need, and claimed that God's word belonged to them alone.

Abbott remarks that Matthew and Luke differ beyond reconciling. Matthew says that the man did come to Jesus. A member of the Burmese Commission has told me that a Burmese would speak the same way, unless Western magistrates had taught him otherwise. An Easterner calls himself the principal when he is only acting as an agent.

Matthew wrote his Gospel for the Jews, and nothing in it puffs them up. So his account of the centurion says nothing of the elders of the Jews, as Luke 7:3 does. Luke, the beloved physician, wrote for Gentiles. He fittingly gives the Jews their honoured place as God's people. At that time the wall dividing Jews and Gentiles had not yet been broken down.

God had a people, and this Gentile owned them as God's own choice, despite their unworthiness. So if he wanted the blessing for his servant, he would send for the elders of the Jews to plead for him with Jesus. To me there seems far more faith here, and more of the lowliness that faith produces, than if he had gone in person and alone.

By sending the Jewish elders to intercede for him, the centurion showed that he accepted his place among those "alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise" (Eph. 2:12).

In the case of the leper it is personal faith, but in the case of the centurion it is the faith of one person for another.

The elders, true to their upbringing under the law, would have utterly spoiled grace by representing the centurion as worthy. His worthiness, according to them, consisted in his kindly attitude and acts towards themselves!

The elders were right in their sense of the Gentile's worth and religious feeling.

"Urgent," with persistent pleading. Luke 7:4; Luke 23:23; Acts 26:7; Rom. 12:12; 2 Tim. 4:2.

Luke tells us how he first made known his desire. He sent the elders to Jesus, begging the Lord to come and heal (or, save) his servant, whose death seemed close at hand. The petitioner entrusted his cause to willing pleaders.

There was no proud claim of having to do only with God, and not with man. On the contrary, by turning to the Jewish elders and using them, he showed how truly he bowed to the ways and will of God. For God had a people, and this Gentile acknowledged them as God's own choice, despite their unworthiness. So when he wanted the blessing for his servant, he called on the Jewish elders to plead for him with Jesus. I see far more faith here, and more of the humility that faith produces, than if he had gone in person and alone.

The centurion took his place at once, and he pleads through the Jews. This is a beautiful instance of the intelligence of faith. He took his place as a Gentile, having no right to approach the Lord directly, but comes through His own nation... He approached by the right door — the elders of the Jews.

The elders had been brought up under the law, and they spoke true to it. By presenting the centurion as worthy, they would have completely spoiled grace. In their eyes his worthiness lay in his kind attitude and kind acts towards themselves! ... They failed to see how their own law condemned them. Instead, they treated it as a special honour given to them, and they became self-centred. They made themselves, and the way they were treated, the standard for judging others. Judged by their standards this Gentile was a worthy man.

The centurion did not come to the Lord in person. He is said to come only as people are said to do themselves what they do through others. He was no pagan. He honoured the Jewish people, low as they were, because God chose them and entrusted them with His words, the scriptures. So he loved their nation — a rare thing in a Roman officer — and he even built them their synagogue. He therefore sent elders of that people to the Lord, and they begged Him earnestly for a man they counted so worthy (just as rare a thing in a Jewish elder).

The centurion himself said, "I am not worthy." But the Lord showed the people where his good deeds towards the Jews came from. They sprang from "great faith," such as He had not found in Israel (Matt. 8:8, 10).

This was not a new feeling. He had loved them for a long time, and built them a synagogue back when he wanted nothing from them. Now they remember it.

He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews. He spoke of nothing personal except his unworthiness. He held to this so firmly that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him. This soul was the exact opposite of one who thinks he does Christ an honour by believing in Him.

He was no pagan. He honoured the Jew, however low they had sunk, because God chose them and entrusted them with His oracles — the scriptures. So he did what was rare in a Roman officer — he loved their nation, and even built them their synagogue.

They begged the Lord urgently, saying, "He is worthy for whom you should do this, for he loves our nation, and he has built us a [rather, the] synagogue" (Luke 7:4-5). The synagogue. It seems there was only one — the one where the Lord had already displayed His power (4:33), and where He so often taught.

They were often built by gifts from the whole community. Sometimes a rich Jew paid for one, and in some cases a Gentile — like the one the centurion built at Capernaum. Luke 7:5.

The elders were raised under the law, and true to that, they would have spoiled grace altogether by presenting the centurion as worthy. In their eyes his worthiness lay in his kind attitude and acts towards themselves! This was quite typical of the Jewish mind. Their own law condemned them, but they did not see it. They treated it instead as an honour given to them. They became self-centred. They made themselves, and the treatment given to themselves, the standard for others. Judged by their standards this Gentile was a worthy man.

He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews. He spoke of nothing personal except his unworthiness. He held to this so steadily that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him. Some men think they do Christ an honour by believing on Him. In this soul there was the exact opposite. And he had no pretence of receiving Christ to set himself up. Sadly, both attitudes are often found elsewhere.

By appealing to the Jewish elders and using them, he shows how truly he bowed to the ways and will of God. For God had a people, and this Gentile acknowledged them as God's chosen, despite their unworthiness. So if he wanted the blessing for his servant, he would send for the elders of the Jews to plead for him with Jesus. To me this shows far more faith, and more of the humility that faith produces, than if he had gone himself and alone. The secret of his action was that he was a man not only of faith, but of faith-wrought humility.

The word of God was read and heard in the synagogue, and it taught the centurion God's nature and ways. None of the Jews learned this. They listened with no such sense of need, and claimed the word as theirs alone. Not even in Israel, the Lord said, had He found such great faith.

I am not worthy — adequate or qualified — to have You come under my roof. The Lord's own grace offered to come and heal the servant. That grace awoke in his heart a deeper sense of the Lord and of himself. He saw in Jesus what made himself nothing. Yet the same sight encouraged him to lay his appeal for a dying slave at His feet.

There was surely the deepest personal respect and affection. He may have been untaught in other things. Yet he felt deeply how excellent Christ's person was, and again his humility matched how much of that glory he saw. He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews. He said nothing about himself except that he was unworthy. He held to this so firmly that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him.

The elders were true to their upbringing under the law. By presenting the centurion as worthy, they would have completely spoiled grace. In their eyes, his worthiness lay in his kind attitude and his kind acts towards themselves!

The centurion was a Gentile. He asked the Lord for help to heal his servant, and the Jewish elders in Capernaum told the Lord that he was "worthy". The centurion himself said, "I am not worthy." But the Lord showed the people where the man's good deeds towards the Jews came from. They sprang from "great faith", such as He had not found in Israel.

He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and neither did he think himself worthy to go to the Lord. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in every desperate situation an opportunity for grace worthy of God, and for the glory of such a One as Jesus. In Luke, as we often find, the "word" has the leading place. The turning point is not the bodily presence even of the Messiah, but the word... His coming to the spot was in no way necessary — His word was enough.

He is not fit for Christ to come under his roof, but in this we already see the faith that moves him. With self out of the way, his sight becomes clear, and so he recognises in Him One whom all things serve. Yet He Himself has come to serve, and to serve such as have no worthiness — no fitness except in their need.

The simplicity of his heart is as clear as his strong faith. There was no faith like it in Israel, and yet here it was, in a man who loved Israel. It was a lesson of grace, in every way, for the crowd that followed Jesus — and most surely for us too.

His faith recognized that Jesus had the very same power, and indeed more. He himself was only a man under authority. Jesus, the perfectly dependent and obedient Man, could command all, always to the glory of God the Father. Even though he was under authority, he still had authority himself to order this man and that one, above all his own servant. All things were but servants to Jesus — all served God's glory through Him. He had only to speak the word: disease itself must obey.

He says, "I am a man" — not in, but under authority. He was a Roman captain over 200 men. He was a long way from being the head of the Imperial army. Even so, he had this power to order the soldiers under him. There is something very sweet about that. His argument is that the Lord had all the authority in Himself.

The centurion reasoned like this. He was himself a man subject to authority, yet he had authority over all those under him, and they would obey his commands. So he recognized the Lord as the One truly subject to the will of God, and yet the One who holds authority over creation. Even sickness would obey His command at once.

It was this that drew our Lord's commendation — his confidence in the power of His word when He was personally absent. Here is a principle that is vital to us at this present hour. Christ is not here; He has gone up to the Father's throne. But His Word is with us; in the Scriptures we may at all times hear His living voice.

Some faith simply takes Him at His word, without reasonings, feelings or experiences. Our Lord calls that "great faith".

People read and heard the word of God in the synagogue. It taught the centurion God's nature and ways. The Jews who listened learned nothing of the kind: they had no such sense of need, and claimed God's word as their own private possession. Not even in Israel, the Lord said, had He found so great faith.

This centurion understood authority through and through. If he said "Go!" there was no question about it: the soldier went. But when the Lord said "Go!" to Jonah, Jonah decided he would not go. The soldier did not dream of complaining that the way was too long, or too rough, or too dangerous, or that the time was not convenient. He did not suggest that he did not want to go, or that he was too busy with other work. No, the soldier understood authority, and went. When the Captain says "Go!", he goes.

He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and he did not think himself worthy to go to the Lord either. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in every desperate situation the opportunity for grace worthy of God... So the "word," as we regularly find in Luke, holds first place. The turning point is not even the bodily presence of the Messiah, but the word. Jesus was man, but He was the vessel of divine power; He had only to say a word, and the servant would be healed.

Scripture attributes wonder to the Lord here and in Mark 6:6 — there at unbelief, here at belief.

Can we wonder that the gracious Lord wondered? It was faith simple and strong, the fruit of divine grace. The word of God taught the centurion God's nature and ways, for people read it aloud in the synagogue. No Jew who listened learned the same. They felt no such sense of need, and claimed to own it all.

The Greek word for "great" that the Lord uses here means great in size: this faith was not hemmed in by mere natural thought or feeling. Yet let us remember that the important reason for this was the Object of his faith, the glory of the person of the Son of God.

He recognised the honour God had put upon His people. Though people despised them and they were failing badly, he still loved the nation and had built them a synagogue. His humility was genuine, for his faith went far beyond the faith of the men he honoured. So he had a very high grasp of the power and glory of Christ's person as divine, reaching far beyond Jewish thoughts... Faith always makes humble, because it exalts the object of faith. And note, his faith came by report, by hearing.

He addressed the crowd with this remark. They learned grace toward the stranger from it, and yet they learned it in one who loved Israel.

The Lord called the woman's faith "great" (Matt. 15:25). He described only one other person in the Gospels the same way — the Roman centurion (Matt. 8:10; Luke 7:9). And note this: the same Discerner of hearts who called the faith of these two Gentiles "great" called the faith of the disciples, and of Peter, "little" (Matt. 8:26; Matt. 14:31).

In this centurion we see a picture of Gentiles today brought into blessing by the pure grace of God. First, he recognised that God had chosen Israel as His special people, and he loves them instead of envying them. Second, he takes a place of complete unworthiness, with no claim on the Lord Jesus. Third, he gave the Lord His true place and honour: Son of Man, obedient to the authority of God, and Son of God with authority over all creation. This beautifully illustrates the right attitude for Gentiles as they receive the blessings of Christianity.

He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and he did not think himself worthy to go to the Lord. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in each extremity the opportunity for grace worthy of God. The turning point is not the bodily presence even of the Messiah, but the word. Jesus was man, but He was the vessel of divine power; therefore He had only to say a word, and his servant would be healed. His coming to the spot was in no way necessary — His word was enough… All things were only servants to Jesus. He had only to speak the word: disease itself must obey.

His desire was granted. For those who were sent, returning to the house, found the servant well. How his faith had grown! At first, counting on the Lord's power, he had asked Him to come. Then he no doubt reflected that the Lord's presence was not needed for power to work. He also knew that he was not one of the favoured people. So he owned himself unworthy to receive such a guest, and was content to rely on the word of power. Nothing more was needed.

He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews, and spoke of nothing personal except his unworthiness. He was so consistent in this that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him. In this soul there was the exact opposite of doing Christ an honour by believing on Him. He made no pretence of receiving Christ to set himself up… The simplicity of his heart is as clear as his strong faith.

In this centurion we see a picture of Gentiles today brought into blessing by the pure grace of God. First, he recognised that God had chosen Israel as His special people by His own sovereign will. And He loves them rather than envying them. Secondly, he takes a place of complete unworthiness — he has no claim on the Lord Jesus. Then thirdly, he gave the Lord His true place and honour: both Son of Man, obedient to the authority of God, and Son of God in authority over all creation. The servant was healed at once, as the messengers found when they returned home.

If Matthew's warning was meant to humble Jewish pride, this detail added by Luke should be enough to deflate Gentile conceit. Are we not apt to forget that, as a matter of fact, we owe everything to the Jew? The Scriptures, the Saviour, the first preachers of Christianity, all came to us from within Israel.

This is what drew our Lord's praise — his confidence in the power of His word while He was absent. We have here a principle that is vital to us at the present hour. Christ is not here, having gone up to the Father's throne. But His Word is with us. In the Scriptures we can hear His living voice at any time… On His Word we rest. It is our all, since He Himself is no longer with us.

The word translated here "be in health" is found in Luke 7:10 and 15:27, where the King James Version renders it "whole" and "safe and sound".

The power in which the grace of Christ acted was not limited to sickness, even sickness as severe as leprosy or paralysis. It was not limited to Israel either: faith drew it out in full strength when a Gentile asked. Here no one asks at all. We see that power ruling over the ruin death makes, and full of tenderness toward a sorrow that had no other hope.

The story takes place in a small, unimportant village in the tribal land of Issachar. People today call it Nein. It lies six miles south-east of Nazareth, some way south of Capernaum, and north of modern Jenin. Earlier commentators called it a dirty little place, which had probably changed little in two thousand years. It stands out in history as the site of the Lord's first recorded raising of a person from among the dead. It was there that the Lord of glory chose to come.

Nain means "pleasant." That is what the world was as God made it, and what it still seems to be to anyone who looks at it with only natural eyes. But at its gate a dead man is being carried out. Death is still the way out of this world, and the shadow over it.

We meet two processions here. One is full of lively talk and discussion. The other has the seriousness that suits a funeral. A remarkable teacher leads the first, with His travelling school of learners. With them comes a crowd of curious people, hoping to catch some of the teacher's words, or perhaps just a glimpse of Him. The description "a great crowd" shows just how popular He was at this time. The crowd attending the Lord was clearly unaware of the death that had taken place in Nain.

Until then, no one had begged the Lord on her behalf. No one with her had come to Him to catch His attention. No one explained the painful situation. Nor did she herself speak. "When the Lord," we read, "saw her, He had compassion on her." All was known to Him. He was not indifferent to that widow's bereavement.

He came, uninvited, in the freedom of His own love, to meet man in his complete ruin and to replace mourning with joy beyond words.

This next scene is found only in Luke. The Lord does not only heal. With a grace and majesty entirely His own, He brings life to the dead, and He does it with remarkable consideration for human sorrow and affection. By His own life-giving power He made the dead live. But He also saw in the man they were carrying out to burial the only son of his widowed mother. So He stopped the stretcher that carried the body, told the dead man to get up, and gave him back to his mother. No picture could fit the spirit and aim of this Gospel better.

The next day after He healed the centurion's servant, or soon after, the Lord went to a city called Nain, a good way south of Capernaum. His disciples went with Him, and a large crowd. As they came near the gate, another large crowd met them, coming out. The Lord of Life was entering in. One in death was being carried out to burial — the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.

Nain means "pleasant." That is what the world was as God made it, and what it still seems to be to the natural man. But at its gate they are carrying out a dead man. Death is still the way out of the world, as it is the shadow over it. The widowed mother, whose only son he is, and the sympathetic crowd behind her show how many ways death touches those left alive.

Two touches are very typical of Luke, and the whole scene is found only in his Gospel: he was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. Here is the heart of a man moved by such desolate circumstances, and open to the feelings that fitted such a case. The Lord of glory was willing to feel these things, and to bring them out by the Holy Spirit. "And a considerable crowd from the town was with her." Even man showed his sympathy.

She cuts a lonely figure, with nothing left but happy memories of her now dead son's childhood. Without a male protector she would be in very real trouble. She was desolate, beyond comfort, and taken up with her sorrow. All her hopes had been in him, and now they were dashed. Her husband's family line had also come to an end. In the first century there was no welfare, no one to support her, and little chance of work. She had lost everything and was without hope.

Luke records three miracles of the Lord, each of which involved an only child. In each case, the children were either dead or near to death. We are reminded of the only-begotten Isaac on the altar of sacrifice. It shows the Lord's tenderness to people who have lost what was precious and irreplaceable. He understood; He was the ultimate 'only-begotten'.

But there was no appeal from the widow of Nain. Her sorrows, her struggles and her desolation are never described. We only see her circumstances. We gather them from that one moving phrase, "the only son of his mother, and she was a widow." But this one phrase is enough. This poor widow made no appeal to Christ. No — her hopeless sorrow, her total loss, was her appeal. The Lord saw her, judged as no other could the depth of her need, and so, moved by His own heart, He went to her relief.

In the son of the widow of Nain we see a picture of the great grace and power of the Son of God. He is able to bring the nation Israel out of death into life. That is what still lies ahead for that desolate nation, when she is fully restored after centuries of death and decay. When the Lord receives Israel again, it will be like "life from the dead" (Rom. 11:15).

But there was no appeal from the widow of Nain. Her sorrows, struggles and loneliness are never described. Only her circumstances show them. We gather them from that one moving phrase, "the only son of his mother, and she was a widow." But this one phrase is enough... We have said that this poor widow made no appeal to Christ. No — her hopeless sorrow, her total bereavement, was her appeal. The Lord saw her, weighed as no other could the depth of her need, and so, moved by His own heart, He went to her relief.

How beautiful is the way the Lord takes to heal her broken heart. Moved with compassion, He first dries her tears, and then removes the cause of her sorrow. If we had the power, we would probably have raised the dead first, and then said to the woman, "Weep no more." But Jesus takes another way. It is a better way, and it makes the story so full of comfort for us all... So the woman would have been able to say, "In my great sorrow He came so near to me that He wiped away my tears. He not only took me out of my sorrowful circumstances, but He walked beside me in them." He shows by His compassion and sympathy that He can wipe away our tears before He raises our dead. This suits our case. Jesus has gone away, and He does not yet raise our loved ones when they are taken from us. But He speaks comfort to our broken hearts and dries our tears. We wait for the day when He will raise those who have fallen asleep in Jesus.

He came to banish the tears which sin and misery had brought into the world. I do not say that He came not to weep Himself; for, in banishing tears, He must weep as none other wept. But to her He would say in His gracious power, "Do not weep." Empty words, had they not been His words, or come from any other mouth! What a difference it makes who says it!

Now in the seventh chapter of Luke the Lord fully takes the divine place... Here He goes further in the display of divine power and goodness. "When the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her." That was His first thought. He spoke first to the bereaved widow. This was God too, though as a man close to her sorrow. But divine power was there as well; and a word from Him woke to conscious life the young man they were about to bury. But power — the fullest, divine power — did not blot out goodness, and cannot. God uses power, but He is love. He delivered him to his mother.

"Do not weep!" the word of His sympathy; "Arise," the word of His power... Elijah raised the son of a widow, but he had to humble himself and cry to the Lord. Elisha also raised the son of the Shunammite, but only after stretching himself over the child. But the Lord commands, and death has to release its prey at the one word.

The heart of Jesus was arrested, and then He stopped the stretcher carrying the dead young man. His compassions always went before His mercies. People commonly say that the heart moves the hand. Do you not value a blessing that comes to you in that way? Salvation came pouring out from the heart of Christ.

He touched the bier on which the widow's dead son lay. Yet Numbers 19 states, "And whatever the unclean person touches shall be unclean." But seen from the spiritual viewpoint, the Lord Jesus was totally separate from death — that is, from sin and its consequences.

Jesus is the only One who was ever here who could not be defiled. Pollution did not get into Him through the touch. Instead, power went out of Him to dismiss the power of death and blot out the stain.

When our Lord performed miracles, He called on no name as His authority. By contrast, when the Apostle Peter cured the lame beggar at the Beautiful gate of the temple, he said, "In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk." He took pains to tell the people that he had not done the miracle by his own power, but in "His name… through faith in His name." As they carried the young man of Nain to his burial, our Lord stopped the procession, saying, "Young man, I say to you, arise." He acted as a Divine Person.

Elijah raised the son of a widow, but he had to humble himself and cry to the Lord. Elisha also raised the son of the Shunammite, but only after stretching himself over the child. But the Lord commands, and death has to release its prey at a single word.

"And He said, Young man, I say to you, Wake up." If they had not been His words — if they had come from any other mouth — they would have been empty. What a difference it makes who says it! That is what people forget when they think of Christ… God was there. God was with that Man in His own power. For what is more characteristic of God than raising the dead? It was even more wonderful than creation.

When the Lord saw the grief-stricken woman, "He had compassion on her," and banished her tears with His compassionate words, "Weep not." The words were effective. They were not the formal utterance of some shallow, unfeeling mortal. They came from the lips and heart of the One who Himself wept at the grave of Lazarus… He was able not only to comfort in the very presence of trouble, but to deliver out of it.

Power and authority were in Him as well as compassion. He came and touched the bier, and the funeral procession stood still, stopped on its march to the grave… He might have claimed the life that He had restored; He might have said to him, "Follow Me," but He did not. He knew that the lad was his mother's only support and hope, and He gave him back to her.

"An hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live." How can this be? Can a dead person hear? In a natural sense it is a contradiction in terms. Yet the testimony of Scripture is that Lazarus, and the widow's son, and Jairus' daughter heard that voice. So it is with dead souls… The Speaker is the Son of God.

Life had returned to the frame, and he began to speak. This was not a body twitching from an electric shock; it was a living man. But, not content with displaying power, the Lord thought of the widow, for He delivered the son to his mother. He saw her. He had compassion on her. He comforted her. He touched the frame carrying the body. He told the young man to get up. He gave him to his mother.

God was there; God was with that Man in His own power: for what is more characteristic of God than raising the dead? It was even more amazing than creation. That God should create is, so to speak, natural. But God raises the dead to life again after what He created has fallen into ruin. He shows His all-encompassing power to recover to the very end. Such a work does assume man's weakness and evil, and the enemy's short-lived success — yet it also shows God above every hostile power in the creature… "And Jesus gave him to his mother." If He was a man who knew grief, He was also a man who knew the power of sympathy. He knew how to comfort a heart in mourning.

His hopeless condition exactly matched our own spiritual condition when we were dead in trespasses and sins (Eph. 2:1). But when he is awakened from death, he speaks. No record is given of what he said, but it was audible evidence that he was alive. When we have trusted the Saviour we make confession with our mouths of the new life and hope that is within us. The sinner's only hope is for God to apply His mercy and grace to those who are dead — there is no other remedy for us.

He might have claimed the life that He had restored; He might have said to him, "Follow Me," but He did not. He knew that the lad was his mother's only support and hope, and He gave him back to her.

Let me be bold and say, The Lord does not save you that you may serve Him. To suggest the thought would be to qualify the beauty of grace. He did not say, "I give you life that you may spend it for Me."

God came in and, through Elijah and in answer to his prayer, raised the widow's son to life again, and the prophet "delivered him to his mother." (Compare Luke 7:15.) In this way the Lord revealed Himself to her soul as the God of resurrection. He settled her in the truth and strengthened her faith by resting her on a foundation that lies beyond death and can never change… In the same way our blessed Lord Himself was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by His resurrection from the dead (Rom. 1:4).

Here is the same lesson as seen in Naomi in the Book of Ruth. Naomi pictures Israel's former blessing brought down to widowhood and ruin… so it takes the raising of a son to show Israel's future rising from death… He touched the coffin and spoke with calm authority to the young man, who sat up and began to speak. This is a wonderful preview of the day when good words will fill the mouth of Israel (Hos. 14:1-3).

God was there; God was with that Man in His own power. For what is more characteristic of God than raising the dead? It was even more wonderful than creation. That God should create is, so to speak, natural. But when God raises the dead to life again, it comes after what He created has fallen into ruin. It shows His all-embracing power to recover to the uttermost. It assumes man's weakness and evil, and the enemy's temporary success. Yet it shows God as superior to every hostile power in the creature.

Elijah raised the son of a widow, but he had to humble himself and cry to the Lord. Elisha also raised the son of the Shunammite, but only after stretching himself over the child. But the Lord commands, and death has to release its prey at the one word.

Great prophets, such as Elijah and Elisha, restored dead ones to life. They had prayed about it, and their prayers were answered. The One walking among men was not inferior to them. He could command where they did not. So He must be a great prophet, if death loosened its grip at His word.

The people fear, and glorify God. The word goes out through all Judea that a great prophet has risen up, and God has visited His people. That testimony is true, but it falls far below the wonderful truth about His Person who was there.

"Visited." Compare 1:68 and 19:44, where it is also a merciful visitation. The word for "visitation" in the sense of vengeance is a different one, as in Luke 21:22.

Luke reports many visits… But the greatest visit is God's own. Three times we read of this tremendous fact: "God has visited His people" (7:16; see also 1:68, 78)!

"God had visited His people." The prophetic words of Zacharias were coming true: "He has visited and redeemed His people, and has raised up a horn of salvation for us, in the house of His servant David" (1:68-69). So spoke the aged priest. "God has visited His people" was, as it were, the response of the crowd at the gate of the city of Nain.

Do you say that this was a miracle, and so exceptional? Learn then that His miracles, real as they were, were written down like His words. They were written so that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. Believing, you might have life in His name… His voice now appeals to you in the gospel. For the hour now is when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God; and they that hear shall live.

The people fear and glorify God. The word goes out through all Judea that a great prophet has risen up, and that God has visited His people. It is a testimony true indeed, but far below the wonderful truth about the Person who was there.

Perhaps they had recalled such miracles from their history in the distant days of Elijah and Elisha. But these great men were only dependent servants who had to beg God for mercy. Elijah had to bow low, stretching himself over a widow's son before he was raised. The Lord gives the command of authority, and death has to release its prey.

"Visited." Compare 1:68 and 19:44, where it is also a merciful visitation (episkopē). The word for "visitation" in the sense of vengeance is ekdikēsis, as in Luke 21:22.

"God had visited His people." The prophetic words of Zacharias were coming true: "He has visited and redeemed His people, and has raised up a horn of salvation for us, in the house of His servant David" (1:68-69). So spoke the aged priest. "God has visited His people" was, as it were, the answer of the crowd at the gate of the city of Nain.

"Judea." Meyer, Ewald, Weiss and H. Holtzmann take this to mean the whole land. Hahn holds that it is never used that way anywhere in the New Testament. He points out that the Lord's opponents were mainly in the South.

This great miracle of resurrection stirred a healthy, reverent fear among the people. This, with other times He raised the dead, proves that Jesus is "the Son of God in power" (Romans 1:4)... The report went out to all the surrounding area and to Judea, some distance removed from Galilee.

But the report of the Lord's miracle reached beyond the borders of Galilee: "this report about him spread through the whole of Judea and all the surrounding country." And John the Baptist heard of it through his disciples. He was in prison in the castle of Machaerus, on the eastern shore of the Dead Sea.

Here was One who did not seek His own glory, yet He could not help pointing to what God was doing, for God was with Him... But was it not sad and humbling that the one raised up specially to bear witness to Jesus should need witness from Jesus? And Jesus, in the overflowing of His grace, gives witness not only to what God was doing through Himself, but to John as well.

Do you, my reader, answer that this was a miracle, and therefore exceptional? They were true miracles, yes. But learn this: like His words, they were written down for a reason. They were written so that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing, you might have life in His name... His voice now appeals to you in the gospel. For the hour is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.

"God has visited His people" was, as it were, the response of the crowd at the gate of the city of Nain. But the report of the Lord's miracle reached beyond the borders of Galilee. "This report about him spread through the whole of Judea and all the surrounding country." John the Baptist was in prison in the castle of Machaerus, on the eastern shore of the Dead Sea. His disciples brought him this news.

John had heard of His miracles, and sends his disciples to learn who it was that worked them. It seemed natural that the Messiah, using His power, would have set him free from prison. Was He the Messiah? Or was John to wait for another? He had faith enough to rely on the answer of the One who worked these miracles. But shut up in prison, his mind wanted something more definite.

He was in prison, and his Master had not set him free. His hopes had failed, and his ministry seemed to bear no fruit… In such circumstances it was natural for the prophet to lose heart. But it was not faith, for it led John to doubt Christ and to ask himself whether He was the promised Messiah… In his uncertainty John never asked whether he himself was the messenger. Our failures lead us to suspect God sooner than ourselves.

First we have to see the Baptist in his prison, puzzled by doubt. Because of that doubt he sends two of his disciples to Christ, so that He may settle it. "Are you the one who is to come?" is his question; "or shall we look for another?" Honest doubt never stays away from Christ, but comes to Him for the answer.

They try to shield John the Baptist entirely. They defend his absolute faith and confidence in Jesus as the Christ… They say the difficulty is solved this way: John did not want the answer to confirm his own faith. He sent his disciples because doubt had shaken their belief… But this solution lacks support in Scripture. We need not claim perfection and infallibility for John the Baptist, for he had neither.

Here was One who did not seek His own glory, yet He could not help pointing to what God was doing, for God was with Him. He "went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him" (Acts 10:38). God meant this as a witness. But was it not sad and humbling? The man raised up for the very purpose of bearing witness to Jesus now needed witness from Jesus. And Jesus, in the overflowing of His grace, bears witness to what God was doing through Himself — and to John as well… Christ is not only the great doer, but the greatest sufferer, and John did not look for this.

There we find a rebuke, put in the gentlest terms. Still, it was surely meant to reach the conscience. John seems to have stumbled; but blessed was anyone who was not offended in Jesus. Nothing grated against every natural thought of a Jew like the rejection and shame that fell on the Messiah — and on those who bore witness to Him.

Herod Antipas, the ruler of Galilee, had thrown John into prison. John had rebuked him over his brother Philip's wife and over all the other evils he had done (Luke 3:19). Yet the Lord had brought him no deliverance, though He had just shown His power over death. Was He really the Christ? So John sends to ask. Alone in his prison he may have turned over what seemed so strange: if Jesus was the Christ, why was the man sent ahead to announce Him left to waste away in the fortress of Machaerus? John's testimony to the Lord at Bethany beyond the Jordan had been clear (John 1:21-34). He had seen the Holy Spirit coming down on Him and remaining on Him. He had borne witness that He was the Son of God, and had announced Him as the Lamb of God. But now a cloud came over what had once seemed so clear. John questioned within himself whether the One he had testified to was really the One who should come — the theme of prophecy.

He had clearly not grasped that the Messiah would be humbled and rejected. He expected the Lord to free him from prison by the power he knew the Lord had been using in grace.

Later, it is true, in a moment of low spirits he wondered whether Jesus really was the One who was to come, or whether they should look for another. Some writers want to guard the reputation of this most honoured servant of Christ. So they have explained his question as asked for others rather than for himself. But such care is unnecessary. Only One was perfect, who always said and did the right thing — and He was more than man, though most truly man.

Augustine, Hilary, Chrysostom, Calvin, Wordsworth, and Ryle think John sent his disciples to strengthen their faith.

His question is, "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?" Honest doubt never stays away from Christ. It comes to Him for the answer. The Lord points him to the works He was doing at that very moment. God's power was showing itself in goodness of many kinds, while the good news went out to the poor. Wonders on their own were not the evidence. These wonders were "signs" — they showed the nature and power of the One they came from.

In his uncertainty John did not ask himself whether he really was the messenger. Our failures lead us to suspect God sooner than ourselves. Either way, this scene is somewhat comforting. If John is led to question whether the Saviour is the Messiah, he has no doubt about Him in other respects. The word of Jesus is his only resource, and it is enough. It is a decline in a life of faith; but, thank God, it is still faith, however small its measure.

It was a solemn answer, and should have been a very touching rebuke to John. Here was One who did not seek His own glory, yet He could not help pointing to what God was doing, for God was with Him... But was it not sad and humbling? The man raised up for the very purpose of bearing witness to Jesus now needed witness from Jesus. And Jesus, in the overflowing of His grace, gives witness not only to what God was doing through Himself, but to John as well. So no human being boasts in His presence... John needed at the very least to be confirmed. He needed solid proof that Jesus was the promised Messiah, for himself or for others.

Herod Antipas, the ruler of Galilee, had thrown John into prison. John had rebuked him over his brother Philip's wife and over all the evil he had done (Luke 3:19). Yet the Lord worked no rescue for him, though He had just shown His power over death. Was He really the Christ? John sends to ask. Alone in his prison, he may have kept turning over what seemed so strange. If Jesus was the Christ, why leave His own forerunner to waste away in the fortress of Machaerus? The Lord's answer makes it plain that John sent the two disciples for his own sake, and not only for theirs. His faith was wavering. He did not understand why the One he had once borne witness to seemed to forget him and treat him with cold neglect.

He sends to ask, has the promised One come? He trusts the word of Him about whom he had heard such things, but he wants to know if He is the One who should come. John is to believe in Christ; Christ is not to receive testimony from men. But "He that should come" is the promised One. And John is to receive Him, like others, by the testimony He gave of Himself. That testimony was this: He was setting right all the sorrows that sin and Satan had brought into the world, and in grace He was caring for the poor.

There is such a thing as faith, and the patience of faith. Abraham illustrated both. God called him out to listen to the promise under the stars, and he believed God. That was simple faith. Later God called him to give up everything he hoped in. That was the patience of faith. That is where John failed. He believed, and pointed out the Lamb of God, but the prison was too much for him. He was a choice servant, but he failed here. He did not like being passed over while others got attention. He was offended.

Here was One who did not seek His own glory, yet He could not help pointing to what God was doing, for God was with Him... But was it not sad and humbling? The man raised up for the very purpose of bearing witness to Jesus now needed witness from Jesus. And Jesus, in the overflowing of His grace, gives witness not only to what God was doing through Himself, but to John as well. So no human being boasts in His presence.

Honest doubt never stays away from Christ, but comes to Him for the answer. The Lord points him to the works He was doing at that very moment... The evidence was not wonders alone, but wonders that were "signs" — they showed the nature and power of the One they came from.

While John is in doubt about Christ, the Lord meets his failure by setting His grace before him. "Go and tell John what you hear and see" (His words and His works)... Was grace, then, a smaller thing than the glory the Baptist expected? To his question Jesus replies, "Grace remains in power, and the poor have good news preached to them."

The signs pointed back to Isaiah's prophecy, and they went beyond what Isaiah 35 promised for the Messiah's coming: Jesus includes the raising of the dead. The implication was clear: the Messiah was there... The Lord's words amount to a very tactful and delicate warning to John... But He wraps the warning in a blessing. Instead of saying "I am worried about you; make sure you don't fall," He says "blessed are those…" It was a message veiled in grace. It was meant to warn John and encourage him at the same time, without blaming him or lowering him in front of the messengers.

The question was put plainly, and the Lord answered it just as definitely. The answer showed real wisdom. He pointed to His miraculous works as proof that He was the Christ. In this way He would settle John's faith in Him by the word of God. The Baptist's messengers arrived at just the right moment.

Plague is an uncommon word in the New Testament. Luke uses it of the works Jesus did in front of the two disciples John the Baptist sent to Him from prison (Luke 7:21). Mark also uses it twice for the illness of the woman with a discharge of blood (Mark 5:29, 34). It literally means a scourge, and it probably covered the more severe illnesses that people sought relief from.

ponēros often refers to the evil nature of the one acting, and to the active working out of that nature. So Satan is called that "wicked" one (Matt. 13:19; Eph. 6:16; 1 John 2:13-14). The demons are evil spirits (Luke 7:21; Luke 8:2; Acts 19:12-16).

In this we have what the Old Testament had predicted as the signs and effects of the Messiah's power. As far as I know, no one cured the blind before Christ came. Jewish tradition reserved that miracle for the Son of David. He it was who, according to Isaiah 35, was to open the eyes of the blind. The Lord puts the blind receiving their sight first among the outward miracles. It shows that He really was the Christ who was to come.

Here below the Lord was giving a sample of what will mark the world to come. He exercised powers that others later exercised in His name. Hebrews 6:5 calls them "the powers of the age to come." The millennial age will give a full display of the defeat of Satan, to the glory of God, and this in and by man. The Lord's curing of bodily diseases and casting out of demons showed in part what will be public and universal in that day.

Here was One who did not seek His own glory, yet He could not help pointing to what God was doing, for God was with Him. He "went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him" (Acts 10:38). God meant this for a witness. But was it not sad and humbling that the man raised up specially to bear witness to Jesus should need witness from Jesus?

He does not mention His own personal glory. He does not send these two disciples back to their master with claims about His Deity or Messiahship. He only points them to public, well-known facts of His gracious ministry.

It was a solemn answer, and should have been a very touching reproof to John. Here was One who sought not His own glory, yet He could not but point to what God was doing, for God was with Him. He "went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him" (Acts 10:38). God meant this for a witness. But was it not sad and humbling that the man raised up specially to bear witness to Jesus should need witness from Jesus?

The Baptist knew the prophet Isaiah well… So the Lord turned him to that same prophet for his answer. He drew the messengers' attention to the proofs that He was the Messiah (Isaiah 35:5-6; 61:1). This was a wise way of answering. John knew the prophetic word. So what his disciples told him they had heard and seen was proof. The Christ was there, and Jesus was the Messiah. They saw miracles of healing done in front of them, and they had heard of the dead being raised. His miracles proclaimed it, for such works are powers of the coming age (Hebrews 6:5) — samples of the blessings people will enjoy when He reigns in power.

He had no desire to expose the momentary weakness of His servant John. But nor could He deny who He is… The reference to Isaiah's prophecy must have been plain to John's disciples. But the miracles they saw went beyond those that Isaiah 35 said would come with the Messiah. He includes: "the dead are raised up." The implication was clear: the Messiah was there. But how remarkable the way He points it out: it is full of grace, pointing to the miracles of grace He had done.

Notice that all the miracles in this list stand for something spiritual. First, the blind received their sight. That was itself evidence that He was the Messiah (Isaiah 42:5-7), and a picture of people in total ignorance being given light. The lame are the powerless, healed so that they can walk before God. Lepers stand for those in corruption, cleansed from that loathsome state. The deaf are those indifferent to the voice of God, now made to hear. The dead are the lifeless, with no life toward God, but made alive by divine power. Finally, the poor are those who are spiritually destitute, but made rich by the gospel of grace preached to them.

Notice this: in the everyday ministry of Jesus, no point was more remarkable than His care for the poor. To the poor the gospel was preached. His concern for them was the very opposite of everything found among men before. If others had cared for the poor, that was only evidence of His Spirit working in them, and nothing that marked them out. In Jesus' case it was the opening out of His heart. He cared for them, if possible, more than for any others.

Here we have a summary of the Messiah's work: "Poor evangelised." Wesley's comment on it is typical of him: "The greatest mercy and the greatest miracle of all."

John is in doubt about Christ. The Lord meets his failure by setting His grace before him… Was grace, then, a smaller thing than the glory the Baptist expected? To his question Jesus replies, "Grace remains in power, and the poor have the gospel preached to them." It is a precious thought. Now is a time of weakness, and miracles have ceased. Yet a soul may still recognise Jesus in the preaching of the gospel to the poor, and say, "I myself have heard the Lord."

To be offended, in biblical language, means to fall or stumble. The Lord's words are a very tactful and gentle warning to John. He must not stumble by failing to recognise the Lord's glory and His claims as the coming one. But the warning comes wrapped in a blessing. Instead of saying "I am worried about you; make sure you don't fall", He says "blessed are those …". The message was kind and veiled. It warned John and encouraged him at the same time, without blaming him or running him down in front of the messengers.

Nothing cut across every natural thought of a Jew like the rejection and shame that came with the Messiah, and with those who bore witness of Him. People were not ready for it. They had waited long, weary years for the Messiah to bring deliverance. Now He had come, and evil fell on His servants, and even on Himself, and seemed to go unpunished. Men despised them, and Him too. That was too much for their faith.

John may have wondered why he was not brought out of prison, since Isaiah 42:7 spoke of the Messiah bringing prisoners out of prison. Soon his release came by way of a martyr's death, which has surely brought him greater blessing than he had imagined.

There is such a thing as faith, and there is the patience of faith. Abraham showed both. He was called out to hear the promise under the night sky, and he believed God; that was simple faith. Later he was called to give up all he had hoped in; that was the patience of faith. That is where John failed. He believed, and pointed out the Lamb of God, but the prison was too much for him. He was a choice servant, yet he failed here. He did not like being passed over while others were cared for.

He could not answer such a question from His servant directly without loss of dignity, for after what had happened the question gave offence. Nor would He hurt that servant by leaving him with no answer, or by sending a reply the messengers would recognise as a rebuke… He did not say, "Cursed is the one who is offended by me." That would have meant the same thing, and yet been so very different. Then, once John's disciples had gone, He turned to the crowd and gave John the highest praise. At the hour of failure, when others would seize the moment to throw stones at the man who was down, the Lord defends and praises His old and tested servant.

John seems to have been caught off guard by his imprisonment. So he sent to the Lord for reassurance, and the Lord gave him the fullest possible answer. But the Lord was never caught off guard. He "knew all that would happen to Him." He knew that while He poured out countless gifts on poor, needy people, nothing lay ahead for Himself but the cross and its dreadful offence. That was to be the greatest gift of all — the giving of Himself, whatever shame came with it.

And truly blessed is the one who looks this way at the mystery of the previous Psalm, who considers the poor and needy Jesus, and who by faith throws in his lot with Him. "Blessed is the one," as He says Himself, "who is not offended by me." And yet the pride of life and the way this world has turned from God make our following of "this poor man" no easy or pleasant thing.

John, the forerunner, sits in prison. For a moment he is discouraged and gives up his testimony. At that very moment the Lord Himself bears witness to John in front of the crowd. What grace! What tender care in choosing such a moment to restore John! His doubts had lowered him as a prophet in everyone's eyes.

This was the hour of failure. Others would have seized the chance to throw stones at the man who was down. The Lord instead defends and praises His old and tested servant.

Once the messengers had gone, the Lord shows His tender compassion and care for John. He begins to defend the same man who had shown his weakness under suffering and long-delayed hope. He asks the crowd, "What did you go out into the wilderness to see?" A shallow judgment might have said John was only "a reed shaken by the wind" when he sent his disciples with that question. But no, the Lord will not allow it. He upholds John's honour and integrity. He has sent a little rebuke to John in private, through his disciples. Before the crowds He clothes him with honour.

People do not go in crowds into the wilderness for nothing. It is a strong appeal to their own earlier thoughts, pressed home on them. It draws them back to remember what kind of man John was.

Who was John, He asked, the man crowds had gone out to see? A reed shaken by the wind? John was never blown about by every wind of teaching, never giving way to greater power, as a reed bends before the wind. He did not wear soft clothing. He had no fine clothes on him to catch the eye of the crowd.

People who want attention do not go to the wilderness. They look for what feeds the flesh, such as kings' courts, where they can show themselves off among the glitter and tinsel.

He will expose us to ourselves. He will make us feel our ways and judge what we do. But the moment He begins to speak of us to others, He brings out the perfection of His own thoughts about us. He speaks of us according to the perfect standing He has given us in His presence.

That word was a little rebuke to John, but how kindly the Lord gave it! John should not have stumbled or taken offence. Yet see how the Lord praised him once the messengers were gone! We should be faithful to a person to his face, but always ready to stand up for him behind his back.

He was no reed shaken by the wind: they could see that any day in the wilderness. Neither was he a man clothed in soft clothing: they would have to look to kings' courts to find men splendidly dressed and living in luxury. There is no moral grandeur in any of these things. A prophet then he was, and much more than a prophet.

John the Baptist found nothing there to attract him; he was in the desert, separated from the world wholly and visibly. So when God sends him out of the desert to prophesy among the world and its noisy activity, his heart meets emptiness and silence. "The voice of one crying in the wilderness," he says, for the world was a wilderness to him. He asks nothing of it; he does not go to it looking for "soft clothing"; he brings into it the customs of the country he has chosen.

When John the Baptist takes this place of preparing the way and making the path plain, it is not only by his word and testimony, but in his own person. First, in his position he is that testimony. Second, in his clothing he is that testimony. Third, in his diet, his manner of life, he is that testimony... He wears clothing of camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist. And why? Because God would have reality in His people, that is the reason.

We read that "Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man." It was Herod, not John, who feared. This immoral king had given himself over to the luxurious indulgence of every evil passion. The manners of his court gave him every chance for it. John was the opposite. In the lonely wilderness he had learned the hard lesson of self-denial and self-mastery. His hairy garment and his plain diet were outward signs of the moral attitude of the man... John, who called the people to sackcloth and ashes, was not a man "dressed in soft clothing" himself... His practice matched his preaching.

What the Lord Jesus said of John the Baptist would have suited Elijah also: "What then did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft clothing? Behold, those who wear soft clothing are in kings' houses" (Matthew 11:8)... Elijah was above all a man of prayer. He was used to dealing with the Sovereign of the universe at His lofty throne. So he did not dread Israel's petty sovereign sitting on his throne, whatever the strength of the armed guard around him!

First, He defends His servant (yes, the one who had just failed, and asked, "Are you the one who is to come?"). He points out that John was more than a prophet (v. 26) and indeed the very messenger announced by Malachi (v. 27; Mal. 3:1). John had just failed to confess who Christ was, but Christ does not fail to confess who John was!

He will expose us to ourselves, and make us feel our ways and judge our doings. But the moment He begins to speak of us to others, He brings out the perfection of His own thoughts about us. He speaks of us according to the perfect standing He has given us in His presence.

What had the people gone into the wilderness to see? Was it merely a reed (a weakling) shaken by the wind, moved merely by earthly circumstances? Or was it a celebrity in fine clothing? People who want attention do not go to the wilderness. They seek what caters to the flesh, such as kings' courts. There they can show themselves off among the glitter and tinsel. Yet people were driven to go to the wilderness, to see what? A prophet? Yes, the Lord says, "and more than a prophet."

On the surface it may look as if John were a reed easily shaken. But he was no coward. If Herod feared John, John did not fear Herod. You find people who go in for luxury in kings' palaces. There was nothing like that with John.

He had a very distinguished place. He was indeed "more than a prophet," because Scripture had spoken about him, both in Isaiah and in Malachi. And further, he was the immediate forerunner of the Messiah.

A prophet he was, and much more than a prophet. This is the witness of Jesus: "This is he of whom it is written, 'Behold, I send my messenger before your face, who will prepare your way before you.'" (Mal. 3:1) He was the immediate forerunner of the Messiah. God put singular honour on him. There were many prophets; there was but one John, but one who could be the messenger before His face.

The Lord Jesus quoted this verse and made it clear that the messenger was John the Baptist. But He also changed the quotation in a way that showed that He Himself is Jehovah: "What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is he of whom it is written, 'Behold, I send my messenger before your face, who will prepare your way before you'" (Matt. 11:9-10; Luke 7:26-27).

This was the time of John's failure. Others would have used the moment to throw stones at the man who was down. Instead the Lord defends and praises His old and tried servant. He ends the tribute with these words: "Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist."

Was it not sad and humbling? The man raised up for the very purpose of bearing witness to Jesus now needed witness from Jesus. And Jesus, in the overflowing of His grace, gives witness. He points to what God was doing through Himself, and to John as well. So no flesh boasts in His presence. The one who boasts must boast in the Lord.

His day of popularity was over. He was a prisoner. We have often seen it: a man is praised to the skies while he is the centre of attention. Then the tide turns, and the fickle crowd tramples him underfoot. Would anyone, then, think little of John? Such people clearly were not in line with God's thoughts about him. So the Lord, who had to rebuke him, at the same time vindicates him. And what He did for John, He will do for everyone who now faithfully confesses Him (Matt. 10:32; Rev. 3:9).

But was it not sad and humbling that the man God raised up just to give witness to Jesus should need witness from Jesus? And Jesus, in the overflowing of His grace, gives witness both to what God was doing through Himself and to John. So no human being boasts in His presence. The one who boasts must boast in the Lord.

A prophet he was, then, and much more than a prophet. This is the witness of Jesus. He was the immediate forerunner of the Messiah. God put unusual honour on him. There were many prophets; there was only one John, only one who could be the messenger before His face.

John had a high honour. The Old Testament held a direct and specific prophecy about his ministry, and apart from the blessed Lord Himself, no servant of God ever had that. This was not because John was great in himself. It was because he stood so near to Christ, as His forerunner and herald. His ministry was unique. In the strict sense it belonged to neither Judaism nor Christianity, since Christ Himself began Christianity.

Here we have Jehovah speaking, and Jehovah sending — "Behold, I send my messenger." And since it is Jehovah sending, it is Jehovah who is coming. In Malachi the wording is exact about this: "Behold, I send my messenger before my face." The Gospel changes the pronoun from the first person to the second, "before your face," because of the incarnation. The One who sends had taken the place of the One sent, but the Sender and the Sent are one.

God sends His messengers to tell people about the Light, and to call their attention to the Light. He takes pains, as it were, to knock at people's consciences and tell them Christ is coming. He sends a messenger before His face to prepare His way. Men might say, "If the Light is there, it will shine all around, and we shall see it." No! God sends to tell them it is there, but they take no notice.

It is worth seeing this. John humbled himself in line with Isaiah's prophecy (John 1:23). The Lord exalted him in line with Malachi's prophecy.

The greatness of John, however, was relative, not absolute; official, not personal. He was a light-bearer (John 5:35), but not the Light itself, though he bore witness to the Light (John 1:7-8). Still, he stood above every prophet and messenger of God since the world began. He alone among them saw his own predictions about the Messiah come true. That office was the choicest service ever given to men. "Yet," the Lord added, "the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he" (Matthew 11:11).

The messengers brought him no word of coming deliverance from the power of Herod. Was he neglected by the Lord? Was he a vessel once used, then thrown aside when his work was done, with no care or thought for him? How often have men acted this way towards their servants! Not so the Lord: He never forgets His servants, though suffering for Him may be their lot. So now He bears testimony before the crowd in favour of His imprisoned forerunner.

John had the great privilege, not only of prophesying of Christ, but of preparing the way before Him. He was God's messenger to announce the blessed Christ of God. No one else had ever held such dignity as this. No greater prophet had ever arisen. John's moral and spiritual greatness is plain. But that is not what the Lord means here. He means the dignity of the place God had given him.

"Born of women." Chrysostom, whom Sadler follows, explains that our Lord excluded Himself from the number of those so described. Notice too that the word used here is gennētos, not genomenos ("come"), the word in Galatians 4:4.

He had not been in the kingdom, because it was not yet set up. To be with Christ in His kingdom, and to enjoy the result of His glory being set up, was a greater thing than all testimony to the coming of the kingdom.

John, on earth, never was in it. He came before the King. We shall find him in the kingdom on high, but on earth he was never in it. He was never counted among the followers of the King.

To understand this last part of the verse, we must separate two things. One is John's own character and walk. The other is the official place God gave him in His plan. In his person and walk, few even in the kingdom could match his separation and devotion. But in the place God assigned him, the very weakest and least in the kingdom holds a better and higher place. The same is true of the saints of Old Testament times. Take Abraham. Set beside the best of God's children today, the father of the faithful might stand higher in personal faith, knowledge of God, and true devotion. Yet the weakest member of the Church of God holds a place Abraham never dreamed of, because God had not yet revealed it. It is not a question of what we are in ourselves. It is a question of the place God has seen fit to give us. And if He has chosen to give us a higher place, refusing it is not true humility.

A baby does not have the understanding of a grown man. What is true of people is true of the ages of God's dealings too. God gave the saints of earlier ages a lower standing than the Christian standing, in every case. Luke 7:28 states this very clearly. Old Testament saints were born of God, and they are now in heaven. But it is false to argue from this that they knew what the Christian knows — forgiveness of sins, justification of life, peace, the heavenly calling — as we know it. In fact the value and effect of Christ's work could be known, in the understanding and power of the Spirit, only after Christ had suffered, been raised, and was glorified.

The strange thing is that we who try in vain to justify ourselves are called instead to justify God. For ourselves, "it is God who justifies," and God alone. But we justify Him when we take our place according to His estimate of what we are. He has spoken about us with a plainness we cannot mistake unless we choose to, and with a finality that leaves no room for argument. The tax collectors "declared God just, having been baptized with the baptism of John." They were all baptized in the Jordan, the river of death, "confessing their sins" — the sins for which death was the just due. So they proclaimed God's righteousness against themselves. That was repentance. And there God could proclaim the righteousness of people whose own testimony was that they had none.

Have we taken the place of self-condemnation? Have we bowed in true repentance before God? This is to justify God. The two things go together — yes, they are one and the same. The man who condemns himself justifies God; and the man who justifies God condemns himself. On the other hand, the man who justifies himself judges God; and the man who judges God justifies himself.

And what kind of people are seen coming to the prophet's baptism? Tax collectors, men whose character was openly despicable; soldiers, used to oppressing the people. Corruption and violence, but now owned and judged, meet at the baptism of repentance. "John," said the Lord, "came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him." (Matt. 21:32.) Such people have nothing to fall back on, and God can only recognize in them the fruit of His own work.

They were right so far. It was a witness of what was coming: it was a confession of their own sin. So far they justified God. But the prudent and wise — the religious, the learned, the great, "the Pharisees and the lawyers" — "rejected the purpose of God for themselves," because they refused even the preparatory work of John the Baptist. Because they refused the lesser testimony, they never went on to the greater things — the reality from God… It is in the conscience that a person receives Christ for salvation. Feeling and understanding alone will never do. There must be conscience. Those whose sleeping consciences had been stirred toward God about their sins were only too glad to receive Christ.

When we know what we are as sinners, we justify God, never ourselves. Then in His ways with us He justifies us… John the Baptist came requiring fruit, calling to repentance. The tax collectors and sinners justified God in this… they justified God. The first good fruit we ever bear is always the admission that we bear bad fruit. Then came the blessed Lord, telling of sovereign grace that rose above all their sins; they justified God in this too. The man who justifies God for condemning him most thankfully justifies God for sending His Son to save him.

Luke 7:29–30 — Some take these verses as a parenthesis, that is, as Luke's own comment… while others, such as Meyer, Weiss, and Plummer, regard the words as spoken by the Lord. But, as Norris says, the tenses used show that it is the Evangelist who speaks.

Verses 29 and 30 are still the words of the Lord Jesus. The people in general, and the tax collectors in particular, recognized that God was right to send John to call Israel to repentance. So they submitted to John's baptism of repentance, and in public they justified God instead of themselves.

A teacher of the law, one who explained the law. The Lord said of the lawyers that they put heavy burdens on others, but did not carry those burdens themselves. In their explanations they took away the key of knowledge. They did not go in themselves, and they held back those who were going in. It is a solemn description, and it may sadly fit some people today.

When John the Baptist preached to Israel, God's counsel through him was "repent and be baptised for the forgiveness of sins." But the Pharisees and lawyers rejected that counsel and would not let him baptise them (Luke 7:30). Had they accepted the counsel of God, it would have meant blessing for them, as it did for those John baptised. Repentance and confession of sin is the way into God's blessing. How sad it is to see men, in Judaism or in the Christian world, reject the counsel of God that would bring them blessing.

The common people and the tax collectors justified God when John baptised them. Scripture says they justified God because, by accepting John's baptism, they admitted that God's way of dealing in their day was right. The Pharisees and the lawyers rejected the counsel of God — which was for them, not against them — since John did not baptise them.

John's baptism was a baptism of repentance, and that brings all men down to one common level of lowliness and self-judgment. The Pharisees saw this well enough. That is why, puffed up with pride, they rejected the counsel of God and refused his baptism.

They thought it beneath them to enter the kingdom by the same narrow gate and hard road that was open to the tax collector and the prostitute. But there can be no other way to God for the sinner. The grace of the gospel condemns sins and calls for repentance even more than John did, who came in the way of righteousness. The gospel says that nothing but the blood of Jesus, God's Son, could cleanse from sins... It was repulsive for a moral man and a zealous Jew to confess his sins, like a tax collector or a prostitute. How intolerable to stand with such people on the same common level of guilt and ruin!

But the careful and the wise — the religious, the learned, the great, "the Pharisees and lawyers" — rejected the counsel of God and made it void for themselves. They refused even the preparatory work of John the Baptist. They refused the lesser testimony, so they never passed on into the greater things — the reality from God. They refused what their own consciences should have proved true, so they were not ready to receive the gift of His grace. The conscience is where a person receives Christ for salvation.

The leaders of the people rejected the prophet of righteousness. They would not admit that his baptism was "from heaven" (Matt. 21:25). So they also rejected a greater one than he — Him through whom grace and truth had come (John 1:17).

In Luke 7:31 the Revisers are right to drop the false words that begin the verse, along with other small additions that have no proper support. Copyists put them there because they did not see that verses 29 and 30 are an aside by the writer of the Gospel, and that the Lord carries on from the end of verse 28.

After defending His servant, He also wanted to reach the consciences of His hearers... He answers His own question with a picture of children playing in the market who do not react to any tune.

"This generation." Meyer, Hofmann and Hahn take this to mean the Pharisees.

The Lord used a question to stir the interest of the people. He asked what He might compare with "the people of this generation" — that is, a generation of self-righteous men.

They were merely like children in the middle of the serious business going on around them, idling away their time by mocking the realities of life. They trifled in their pleasure, they trifled with sorrow... They would have had John dance to their piping, and Jesus and His disciples beat their breasts to their idle dirge.

They were equally displeased with John and with Jesus, content with neither law nor grace. People do not like righteousness — that is too strict for them; and they do not like grace — that is too free. They would have part of one and part of the other.

In verse 31 He looks at the generation and says, "Now what are you like?" ... In substance He says, "We have come to you, children of the marketplace, both piping and lamenting, and you have neither danced nor wept." God's hand is very skilful in touching the instrument, but He cannot get a single note of music in return. That is you and me, dear reader, for the Lord is describing our common nature. God's finger has touched the instrument in every possible way, and He can get no answer. "Nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh."

The one was too strict, the other too free. The gladness of the one and the sorrowful strain of the other were both disdained. But the Lord adds, "wisdom is justified by all her children." Then the Spirit adds the beautiful account that illustrates this. The woman who was a sinner is the contrast to the unwise generation, and enters the family of Wisdom.

They were children — childish and immature. They sat about in the marketplace, the place where people do serious business. They complained that no one had danced to their music, and that no one had wept to the tune of their mournful song.

They were nothing more than children in the middle of the serious business going on around them. They idled away their time in mocking the realities of life. They trifled in their pleasure, and they trifled with sorrow — even with the sorrow that lay on man for his sins. They would have had John dance to their piping, and Jesus and His disciples beat their breasts to their idle funeral song.

They were like the young people in a marketplace, who oppose each other in every possible way. No dancing when one pipes, no weeping when one wails. So it was here. God sent John the Baptist in a way of strict self-denial and outward separation, keeping apart even from the ordinary food of men, and they slandered him. God sent the Son of Man in the way of the most familiar love, and they mocked Him as well as insulted Him. The one was too strict, the other too free.

They did not want to hear of God's rights or of their rebellion. They were glad when Elijah left for heaven, and they wanted Elisha to go too. They did not want to hear of the goodness of God either. It was just as distasteful to them as His righteous claims. They did not want God in any way.

He says that God's finger has touched the instrument in every possible way, and He can get no answer. The hand of God is very skilful in touching the instrument, but He cannot get one single note of music in return. That is you and me, dear friends, for the Lord is describing our common nature.

Having refused the lesser testimony, they never passed on to the greater things — the reality from God. Their own consciences ought to have proved it true. Because they refused it, they were not ready to receive the gift of His grace. A person receives Christ to salvation only in the conscience. Feeling and understanding will never do on their own. There must be conscience.

They bowed to God's testimony through John the Baptist. They agreed that God was righteous in condemning their sins. Many confessed their sins and took their place in the Jordan. And so they also received the grace of God in the person of Christ with deep gratitude. They declared it right when many condemned it. In this way they showed themselves to be the children of wisdom.

Nothing was right, or fitting, in their eyes. Has that generation become extinct?

John the Baptist was a literal Nazarite. He was a man who abstained from all kinds of things. "He came neither eating nor drinking," and the compliment he got was that he had a demon. The Son of Man came eating and drinking. He was a Man with men.

When John the Baptist came, eating no bread and drinking no wine, that showed there was no fellowship, because sin was in question. How could God send someone to have fellowship with sin? So they said he had a demon.

John the Baptist came requiring fruit and calling people to repentance. The tax collectors and sinners justified God in this. The axe lay at the root of the trees; these poor sinners admitted it and repented. They justified God. The first good fruit is always the admission that we produce bad fruit… John was so strict he would not even eat with anyone. He could have nothing to say to these sinners. That was why they said, "He has a demon."

John the Baptist they did not like: he was too strict for them. Then came the Son of Man, the Saviour Himself. They called Him by even worse names: He was too loose for them. So it does not matter what testimony God gives — man always has some reason for refusing.

The first presented himself with the severity of a prophet, separated from the people on whom judgment was pronounced; the second made Himself accessible to men, in order, if it were possible, to win for God the confidence of sinners. These two testimonies had found no echo; these two witnesses had been rejected; man did worse than that, he accused John of having a demon, and Christ of sharing in the sins of those He came to save. By refusing grace, by refusing it in this way, what a weight of suffering has man not piled on the heart of the Saviour!

But the prudent and wise, the religious, learned, and great — "the Pharisees and the lawyers" — rejected God's purpose for themselves. They refused even the preparatory work of John the Baptist. Having refused the lesser testimony, they never passed on into the greater things — the reality from God… A person receives Christ for salvation only in the conscience. Feeling and understanding will never do alone.

They did not like John the Baptist's serious call to repentance. In effect they played their frivolous music to him, complaining that he was too serious to dance. But how could John join in, when their true state was one of departure from God? He refused even to eat and drink with them. God had sent him for the serious purpose of bringing them down in self-judgment, so as to prepare the way of the Lord. They then accused him of having a demon… Religious zealots today glory in their boasted self-denial and despise others who do not do the same. So self-righteousness despises the grace of God, and is grossly unfair in its accusations.

They justified God! What does this mean? If we speak of God justifying the sinner — well, he is made right with God, he is declared to be righteous before God. If we justify God we do not make Him right, but declare that the way He has taken to reach and bless us is just the right way.

Is the use of bread or wine wrong in itself? Was John the Baptist more pure than his Lord and Saviour? Note well, too, that he abstained from bread as well as from wine. Are we, then, to give up either or both?

The Lord had just been speaking of the folly and caprice shown by the men of this generation. They were like young people in a marketplace who frustrate each other in every possible way. One plays a tune, and nobody dances; one sings a sad song, and nobody weeps. Just so, when God sent John the Baptist in the way of severity and outward separation — even from the ordinary food of men — people slandered him. When He sent the Son of Man in the way of the closest and friendliest love, they mocked and reproached Him. The one was too strict, the other too free.

The wise are not the Pharisees and the scribes. In verse 29 it says that some justified God. That is, they bowed to God's testimony through John the Baptist. They recognised that God was righteous in His condemnation of their sins. Many confessed their sins and took their place in the Jordan, owning in this way that death was what they truly deserved. So they proclaimed God's righteousness against themselves. And therefore they also received the grace of God in the person of Christ with all gratefulness. They justified that grace when many condemned it. In doing so they showed themselves to be the children of wisdom.

The Holy Spirit led Luke to give here the most striking possible commentary on the folly of self-righteousness and the wisdom of faith. He brings forward exactly a case in point. The worth of man's wisdom appears in the Pharisee, while the true wisdom of God, which comes down from above, appears where His own grace alone created it. For who seemed less likely to hold it than a woman of ruined and depraved character — a sinner whose very name God withholds?

Who could have expected that from now on a child of wisdom was to be found in a notorious child of folly? That was her known and evil character; but when God drew her to the feet of Jesus, everything was changed. Such is the power of His grace in Jesus. Who else would have thought of a robber reconciled to God on the cross? Who would have thought of a sinful woman picked out from the mass of human beings — a disgraceful character saved by faith and sent away in peace?

We are children of Wisdom by faith, as Luke 7:35 assures us: "wisdom is justified by all her children." But by paying attention to these instructions we become Wisdom's children in practice. Wisdom instructs us in right conduct in each area: under the governing authorities of this world, in life in the city (which for us is the business world), and in the family circle.

When Simon asked the Lord into his house, he used a strong word. It is the same word the Lord used in John 17 when He prayed to the Father. It is a definite request from someone in a position to make a demand. Yet in wonderful grace the Lord agreed.

The Lord fully knew the pride that was in the Pharisees' hearts. He knew that they loved the places of honour. He knew that Simon was after some popularity, and at the same time hoped to show how little the Lord counted in his eyes. The Lord knew all that. In infinite grace He still took the place offered Him, so that He might bring the compassions of God to this poor woman.

The place where Jesus showed Himself to be the Friend of sinners was the Pharisee's house. A strange and unwelcoming place for it, we might think. But that background of pride and criticism only made the Saviour's grace shine out all the brighter. This man may have thought himself very important when he took this prophet from Nazareth under his wing. We can easily imagine how proudly he looked at the crowd when the Lord accepted his invitation. He little knew that his humble Guest was the One really arranging that feast. Christ was spreading another feast, and thousands have fed at it since.

The Pharisee had a certain respect for someone with the reputation of being a prophet, or a teacher sent from God. Religious people in our day are much the same. Jesus was therefore an object of interest to him, though he did not know Him as the Son of God, the Saviour of sinners. It is sad how many seem to make the Lord, or even the Bible, a matter of interest instead of a matter of salvation. The Pharisee had invited the Lord to eat with him, and since He came not to judge the world but to save, He went.

God sent John the Baptist in a hard and separated way of life, cut off even from ordinary food — and they slandered him. God sent the Son of Man in the way of the closest love — and they mocked and insulted Him too. The one was too strict, the other too free… But the Lord adds, "Wisdom is justified by all her children." Then the Spirit adds the beautiful story that illustrates it. The woman who was a sinner is the opposite of that unwise generation, and she enters the family of Wisdom.

For our Lord, in this Gospel, is above all the social One — social as a Man, so that He could talk with people. So we find Him here, more often than in the other Gospels, seated at table in the houses of others, whoever they may be. There He could find the mind relaxed and free to show itself. This scene in the Pharisee's house has great moral value. It shows us that nothing truly brings us to Jesus but our sins. Admiring Him as a Teacher, or as a worker of miracles, will never put us in His path as God counts it. Only sin, and the sense of it, can really introduce us to the Son of God, for He is a Saviour.

I will not go again into the three hearts that open up in Luke 7:36 to the end of the chapter. There is the Pharisee's heart, the sinner's heart looking to Christ, and — blessed be His grace and name — God's own heart. Light and love were there. Simon knew neither of them at all; he was blind, and thought he could see.

Simon the Pharisee invited the Lord to his house. No doubt he thought he was being generous. But while the Lord and the other guests were there, a stranger came in — "a woman of the city, who was a sinner." Those words are strong enough. They do not mean a sinner in the ordinary, broad sense that we have all sinned. They mean the particular kind that made this woman notorious in the town, and everybody knows what that is. What drew her? Jesus, nothing but Jesus.

Simon the Pharisee, who invited the Lord to his house, where a woman "who was a sinner" anointed the feet of the Lord... There is nothing to support the idea that this woman was Mary Magdalene.

She is a sinner, and she knows it. Yet knowing it does not hold her back. It makes her bold to be there, in the one place where she might expect the harshest judgment of all. But His shield will be over her — the Friend of sinners. How different that name sounds to her, and to the Pharisee whose house she has entered!

What a wonderful attraction there was in Him for sinners! We can be sure a Pharisee's house was the very last place she would have gone near. But if He is there, the place changes its character at once.

We are told that she brought with her an alabaster box or flask of ointment. It is better to say perfume, because when people hear "ointment" many think of something for a wound or a sore. This was a costly perfume, fit for a king. But unhappy women who live by their shameless trade often spend lavishly on their faces to make themselves attractive. The text does not say she bought the perfume for this occasion; it says she "brought" it. One can hardly doubt that she had bought it for her own purposes. Now everything was changed. It was the most precious thing she had in the world, and so she brought it with a full heart for Jesus.

Verse 37 tells us that she came intending to anoint Him; that was clearly her purpose... But it was unusual to anoint the feet, for people usually gave this honour to the head.

The light and the love of God had reached into her soul. She did not yet know what it was to be pardoned, but her heart trusted Jesus. At the same time her conscience felt the deep conviction of sin.

In this house of Simon the Pharisee, the Lord meets two people who represent two moral generations: His host, and a sinner of the city. These two are the two debtors in the parable the Lord tells on this occasion, a parable set right at the heart of the story.

Such a sight should have amazed the Pharisee and made him wonder why anyone would do so unusual a thing. Could we imagine anyone doing this to another person? No indeed! To do it to anyone else would be idolatry. Only Christ is worthy of such tears of repentance and such humble adoration — no created being is.

They did not sit on chairs as we do. At meals they lay on couches, with their feet stretched out behind them. So the woman could reach Christ's feet. They were on the outside, within her reach, as He lay at the table. She did not only weep. She "began to wet His feet with her tears." Who would have thought of this? Only a woman who felt deeply, and who was changed from all her old ways. She also wiped His feet with the hairs of her head. How often those hairs had been like nets to catch loose and foolish men — now they were used to wipe the feet of Jesus.

Suppose He had been given the head of the table, at the Pharisee's right hand. Then her courage would have failed her at the doorway, and she would probably not have reached Him that day. But He was so near to her. She had only to stretch out her hand and touch Him; she had only to take one step to be at His feet. So the Pharisee's disdain put the Saviour within reach of the sinner.

Faith makes a soul very bold; at the same time it gives great propriety. But its boldness is inspired by the attractive power of the Object looked to. It is from no qualities of our own... She did not ask Peter or James or John or any of them to bring her to Jesus. She went at once. It was not only her own deep sense of need. It was her sense of His indescribable grace — the grace of Jesus. That gave her entry at once, and introduced her without any further formality.

Her tears must have been many. A few burning tears could not wash a man's feet. She did not stop washing His feet with her tears. Those tears of repentance flowed freely onto the feet of Christ — those beautiful feet, those precious feet.

The passage does not state why she was weeping. As the context makes perfectly clear, these were not tears of repentance. Thoughts of regret about her past sinful life did have a place in her heart. But it was His goodness and grace that overwhelmed her with gratitude.

There she is with her tears, not all of sorrow — to wash His feet; her hair (a woman's glory) brought low — but was it really brought low? — to wipe them; her box of precious ointment to anoint them with. It was all far too little for Him. All her wealth could rise no higher than His feet. But He had come so far to win man's heart to God. He valued and acknowledged the gift of love, and He accepted the giver and defended her.

The woman of Luke 7 first washes the feet of Jesus with her tears of sorrow. Then she wipes them with her hair. After the wiping she anoints His feet with the ointment. There is no word of Mary washing the feet of Jesus with tears... Mary first anoints the feet of Jesus, and wipes His anointed feet, not His washed feet.

This sight should have amazed the Pharisee. It should have made him wonder why anyone would do such a unique thing. Could we imagine this done to any other person? No indeed! To do it to anyone else would be idolatry. Only Christ is worthy of such tears of repentance and such lowly adoration from any created being.

This drew out the religious reasoning of Simon's heart, which, like all other reasoning of the natural mind on divine things, is only unbelief. He said to himself, "If this man were a prophet." How hollow the fine-looking Pharisee was! He had invited the Lord there; but what was the Lord worth in Simon's eyes? ... Indeed, she was a sinner. That was not the wrong thing; this was. The root of the worst wrong is just that low estimate of Jesus.

His thought was that being a sinner would make her unfit for Jesus. Yet he had no real idea of the glory of Jesus, or of His holiness, or of His grace. He would not even allow Him to be a prophet... Simon knew the woman was a sinner. It was common knowledge in the town. Simon could not imagine that Jesus would let her take such a liberty with His person if He knew her character. But Jesus knew her thoroughly, as well as Simon did; and if she was a sinner, He was a Saviour. Sadly, the Pharisee neither felt the sin nor saw the Saviour as God sees them. This kind of religion tries to take a middle position between a sinner and a Saviour, and so ignores both the misery of the one and the grace of the other.

The legal man set out to judge, by human ability, whether the Lord — this Preacher going about the country — was really a prophet. But he judged by human righteousness: what a man should be for God, and only in an outward way. His own heart, God's heart and light, and even this poor woman's heart were all unknown to him. Light and love, light and conscience, and love in the heart — that is, God — were all wholly unknown to him. God was in his house, in light, as He showed, and in love. Simon never found it out. He despised Him. He had no courtesies for Him. He judged from his own heart: since the Lord was not like it, He could be no prophet.

Verse 16 has shown us that the common people at least thought He was a prophet, and a great one; Simon had not got as far as that. They had a glimmer of light; he was totally blind, for false religion is the most blinding thing on earth.

The poor sinner of Luke 7 touched the holy feet of the Lord Jesus, but His feet were not defiled. Instead, the touch affected the heart of the poor sinner. And the Lord could say to her, "Your sins are forgiven... Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

The Lord proved that He was a prophet and infinitely more than a prophet. He read the man's heart as well as the woman's, and, more than that, He revealed God's love. Simon did not utter a word, but thought his evil saying within himself. Then Jesus answered — that is, He answered the unspoken judgment of Simon's mind: "Simon, I have something to say to you."

No one had spoken a word since the woman came in and began her series of actions... Then at last Jesus "answered." He revealed Himself to be not only a prophet of the Lord, but the Lord Himself, who had come now not to judge, but in grace to save.

The word "answer" is used here though no formal question comes before it. You have to picture the scene to feel how tense it was. Nobody had spoken a word since the woman came in and began her series of actions. Surprise probably gave way to strain. The tension grew as the guests at the table turned their eyes more and more from the woman to the Lord Jesus. The long silence would increase the tension even more. Then at last Jesus "answered." He turned straight to Simon and showed that He read the very thoughts in His host's heart. He answered his thoughts and doubts, and so showed that He knew all about the woman as well. He had perfect insight into the human heart. He revealed Himself to be not only a prophet of the Lord, but the Lord Himself, who had come now not to judge, but in grace to save.

This drew out the religious reasoning of Simon's heart. Like all other reasoning of the natural mind about divine things, it is only unbelief. "He said to himself, 'If this man were a prophet.'" How hollow the fine-looking Pharisee was! He had invited the Lord there; but what was the Lord worth in Simon's eyes? … The root of the worst wrong is exactly that low view of Jesus. Simon doubted within himself that He was even a prophet. How little he thought that this was God Himself in the person of that lowly man, the Son of the Most High!

Jesus, however, proves that He was a prophet — yes, the God of the prophets. Reading the thoughts of his heart, He answers his unspoken question with the parable of the two debtors.

All Pharisees were not the same! Some were pleasant, some were dull-witted. Some were led, and some were leading. But Christ told them apart… You will not find that He treats Simon, in Luke 7, in the same way. He knew there was a different pulse in him. There was no sharp, stern rebuke, but, "Come, let us reason together." "Simon, I have something to say to you." Do not blunder your way through society. Carry the balances of God with you.

Simon did not think He was a prophet now, for though he lets Him speak, he does not expect an authoritative word from Him. How gracious the Lord is to Simon. … Perhaps the Pharisee had invited the Lord Jesus for one reason. He hoped to find something that would fully prove to his mind that the Lord was only a pretender. When the woman came and did what she did, he had what he wanted — evidence that cast doubt on the person of the Lord Jesus. But now everything suddenly turns upside down.

Simon only "said to himself." He thought Jesus had no discernment about the woman. The Lord at once showed him that He knew his hypocrisy and read his secret thoughts. He did it by putting to him the parable of the two debtors. One debtor was in debt ten times deeper than the other. Yet neither had any assets, so both were equally bankrupt. And the creditor treated them alike; there was forgiving mercy for both. This parable was meant to bring one thing home to Simon. His sins might be fewer than the woman's, but he too was completely insolvent. He needed forgiving mercy just as she did.

Simon only "spoke within himself." He thought that Jesus had no discernment about the woman. At once the Lord showed him that He knew his hypocrisy and read his secret thoughts. He did it by putting to him the parable of the two debtors. One debtor owed ten times more than the other. Yet neither had any assets, so both were equally bankrupt. And the creditor treated them alike; there was forgiving mercy for both. This parable was meant to bring one truth home to Simon. His sins might be fewer than the woman's, but he too was completely bankrupt. He needed forgiving mercy just as she did.

In this house of Simon the Pharisee, the Lord comes into contact with two people, representatives of two moral generations. I mean His host, and a sinner of the city. And these are the two debtors in the parable which the Lord tells on the occasion, and which is found in the heart of the story.

It is as much as to say this. Suppose it is true that this woman openly breaks God's laws, and that her obvious sins are plain to see. Suppose people count her ten times as great a violator of right principles as some others, and call her a five hundred pence debtor. Then suppose little can be said against Simon about outward misconduct. Suppose even that his offences against outward morality are few, and seldom repeated, so that he is only a fifty pence debtor. Still, the fact is this: whether the debt is little or much, both are so thoroughly bankrupt that they have nothing whatever to pay their creditor's demand.

"And when they had nothing to pay" — here is another point where there is no difference. And yet, if you look at it another way, there is the greatest possible difference. As to ability to pay, there is no difference at all. Not only could His holiness not allow us to settle for less, but we on our part could not. All we can do is draw drafts on the future — a bank where we have no credit, and where not one of our drafts is honoured. We can promise: that indeed is easy; but which of our performances ever did anything but increase the debt?

Luke 7:42. — The word "forgave" (ἐχαρίσατο) is one of the Greek words that Luke shares with Paul (Rom. 3:24; Eph. 2:8 and following).

Some say the woman's sins were forgiven because she did the acts the Lord praises. That thought reverses the whole parable. It also contradicts verse 50, which says: "Your faith has saved you." Not your love! The parable clearly teaches that the creditor freely cancelled both debts before either debtor did a thing. The words "for she loved much" do not give the cause or reason why she was forgiven. They give the proof that let others see she was truly forgiven.

What personal interest could he have in such a topic? He was not a debtor; he had harmed nobody. He was not like this poor sinner; he had always met every just demand... What need had he for forgiveness, who had never felt a burden or acknowledged a debt? Those words of the parable, "He frankly forgave," might thrill others, but there was no warmth, no music in them for him.

He read the man's heart as well as the woman's, and, yet more, He revealed God's love. Simon did not say a word, but thought his evil words to himself... "I suppose," said Simon, "the one he forgave the most." So Simon condemned himself without knowing it, and proved the grace of God right. Here was a man with no real sense of sin, and no sense at all of forgiveness.

It is as much as to say: suppose it is true that this woman openly breaks God's laws, and her sins are plain for all to see. Suppose people count her ten times as great a breaker of right principles as some others. Call her a five hundred pence debtor. Then suppose there is little to say against Simon in outward conduct... so that he is only a fifty pence debtor. Still, whether the debt is little or much, both are bankrupt. Neither has anything at all to pay what the creditor demands. This is most important, because the question is no longer whether a person is a great sinner or a little sinner. The question is: are your sins forgiven?

As to ability to pay, there is no difference at all. It was not only that His holiness could not allow us to settle for less; we on our part could not do it either. All we can do is write cheques against the future. That is a bank where we have no credit, and it honours none of our cheques. We can promise; that is easy. But which of our performances ever did anything except increase the debt?

The Greek verb behind these two English words is full of meaning. According to M. R. Vincent: "More is expressed by the verb than simply giving. He gave as a free, gracious, joy-giving gift." You can see what the verb implies in Romans 8:32, where it also occurs... The act of giving freely means an act that is full of pleasure to the heart of the one who does it. A creditor often grows bitter in spirit as he looks at an unpaid debt. How Christ shines in the glory of grace here in Luke 7.

In the case referred to here, the joy behind the action colours the action in the eyes of the debtor, giving it added value and so winning his unreserved devotion. If the release is given reluctantly there will still be mistrust; but here there is joy on the part of the creditor in giving the release, which only increases the joy in the debtor's heart.

This is exactly how love to God grows in the heart. Its spring is knowing that sins are forgiven. How obvious that a full and complete forgiveness must be a known fact to produce this response... No promise to do good in the future can pay the debt of our sinful past.

Has He not come, and died, and risen again, to win our hearts for Himself? Does He not state it as the express purpose of the grace that has brought us the full and free forgiveness of our sins?... He looked for nothing less than this as the effect of that grace.

If you know in yourself that the first part applies to you, then the second part does too. If it is true of you that you have nothing to pay God with, then it is certainly true that He freely forgives you. Take that sweet assurance to your heart... God's thoughts are not like ours. The unbelieving saying that something is "too good to be true" never applies to Him.

If a creditor forgives a debt, the former debtor will love him, and the bigger the debt, the greater his love will be. The woman and Simon were different in many ways, and Simon focused on the difference. But according to the Lord Jesus there was a basic likeness despite all the differences. They were both destitute: utterly bankrupt with nothing to pay. You could tell the two debts apart by size. Even so, both men were thrown completely on the mercy of their creditor.

Simon has no choice but to give the conclusion that in principle justifies the actions of the woman, and with them the Person she directed them to. His "I suppose" probably implies an uneasy reluctance. He answered with caution, perhaps wanting to leave a way out for himself. Along with the other Pharisees he had judged John the Baptist, the Lord Jesus and His followers. He considered himself fully competent to sit as judge in those cases. Now he judges correctly in principle. In principle that also settles all the other questions he had judged completely wrong.

So, without knowing it, Simon condemned himself and vindicated the grace of God. Here was a man with no real sense of sin, with no sense whatever of forgiveness, and so without fear of God, let alone love. And here was the woman who truly acknowledged her enormous debt in the presence of grace. Her love was real and great. As our Lord said, Simon judged the truth rightly in theory. But he had no faith, and he hated and despised the Lord.

It took no special sharpness of mind to find the answer to that riddle. Simon had to give it, though he did so without enthusiasm. What personal interest could he have in such a subject? He was not a debtor; he had harmed nobody. He was not like this poor sinner; he had always met every fair demand. And as for God — was he not a Pharisee, fasting twice a week, saying his prayers, paying his tithes? Was that not enough? What need had he for forgiveness, who had never felt a burden or admitted a debt?

The amount of the debt made no difference in this respect. The Pharisee and the sinner of the city could both be met here. There was no difference as to the way or the certainty of forgiveness. The difference that this would make would naturally be of another kind.

Simon had no true appreciation of the position he was in. He did not think he needed the free grace of God; he thought he had earned His blessing. The more deeply we feel the grace of God and the blessing that grace brings us, the greater our response of love to Him will be.

Did Simon realize that there was anything in his life that needed forgiveness? Did he in practice dismiss it as "little"? Some think their sins hardly matter, and so they think they have no need of forgiveness. Others, whose sins are no worse than the first group's, still see their sins as a serious offence against God, and carry a deep burden because of them. Their hearts cry out for forgiveness. When they know they are forgiven, they love much.

The Lord reminded Simon that he had invited Him into his house and then gave Him no water to wash His feet. That was the usual courtesy in that land of sandals and dusty paths. But the woman had done far more: she washed His feet with tears and wiped them with her hair.

After all, the welcome that even a Pharisee — a religious man — gives Jesus is a small one. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The poor reception showed how little his heart welcomed Jesus. Yet he thought he was doing Jesus a favour. This is what natural religion always does. He thought he was honouring Him. Instead he was feeding himself. The measured scale of what he provided proved how low his idea of Jesus was.

God Himself was in his house in flesh and blood, and Simon saw nothing. He only decided that Jesus was not a prophet. And note this: Christ said nothing about it, and bowed to the slight. Yet He felt the neglect. Simon had not met Him with the common courtesies of life.

He tore the mask of pretended righteousness off the Pharisee. But where He found a poor wretched soul, He said, I will have you. Such was the woman of the city, who dared not show her face among decent people, much less to God. To the proud and unfeeling Pharisee He said, "You gave me no water for my feet." He did not even offer the common courtesies of life. Of the woman He said, "she has wet my feet with her tears." So the light exposes the self-righteous man. The poor woman — a confessed sinner — finds divine love, and more than that, forgiveness.

What self-righteousness so ungraciously withheld, the poor penitent supplied. The Pharisee did not think He was worth a little water for His feet, far less the costly oil for His head. But who ever heard of self-righteousness having oil for the head, water for the feet, or a kiss of gracious welcome for the lowly Son of Man? But the humble penitent finds them all. The fountains of her heart are broken open to bathe His feet with tears.

It was plain that the woman loved in a new and divine way. What produced this? Faith in Jesus. Love without faith counts for nothing with God. It is worthless, only human. Faith is the root, and love is the fruit, as here.

The Lord answered the Pharisee's unspoken thought. He showed Himself not only a prophet of God, but God of the prophets. Jesus revealed God's heart. Without knowing it, the Pharisee proved that he knew nothing of it. The woman had learnt it. His goodness had gone right through her. Her sense of it showed in her deep reverence for the Lord Jesus. There she had met God; there God made Himself known to her as the God of all grace. It was not a doctrine, but a divine Person of infinite love who attracted, filled and fixed her heart.

"I entered your house." He says this to each of us. In the most absolute grace He has come to us, drawn by nothing that existed in us. How has this wonderful visitor been received? To Simon He says, "You gave me no kiss. You gave me no water for My feet." No welcome, and no refreshment.

Simon had chosen to withhold from the Lord the most ordinary courtesies of the day. Neither the water for His feet, nor the kiss of welcome, nor the oil for the head was given. He had received the Lord in a way that amounted to an insult; yet the poor woman had made up for it all in abundant measure. He had no sense of guilt and no love for the One who came in the grace of forgiveness. She had deep repentance, faith in Jesus, and a burning love for Him.

After all, the entertainment that even a Pharisee — a religious man — provides for Jesus is very short. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks: the poor reception betrayed how little his heart welcomed Jesus. Yet he thought to patronise Jesus. This is what natural religion always does. He thought he was honouring Him, but he was really feeding himself. He showed the low idea he had of Jesus by how carefully he measured out what he gave Him. "You gave me no kiss" — in those lands a kiss was nothing unusual — "but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet." Not even a king was entertained like this.

The words used show that she kept doing all these things the whole time. She stood at His feet behind Him, weeping. She began to wash His feet with tears. She was wiping them with her hair, kissing them, and anointing them. There is a continuity about it; it was not just one single action. "From the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet" shows this. While the Lord was speaking to Simon this display of affection was going on before his very eyes.

Look at her — kissing the feet she had bathed with her tears. She did not dare to kiss the pure lips that Simon refused to honour. It was honour enough for her to kiss His sacred feet, which had brought her salvation. What but love too deep for words would ever have found such a voice as that! She "has not ceased to kiss" the weary feet that had walked the thorny road of sin for her lost soul.

It was plain that the woman loved in a new and divine way. What produced this? Faith in Jesus. Love without faith counts for nothing with God — it is merely human. Faith is the root, and love is the fruit, as here.

Notice how gently the Lord deals with Simon's conscience. He will not say Simon does not love at all. Being his guest, He gives him all possible credit for the invitation. He leaves it to Simon's own soul to decide whether he loved even "a little."

"I entered into your house." He says this to each of us. In absolute grace He has come to us, drawn by nothing in us. How has this wonderful visitor been received? To Simon He says, "You gave Me no kiss. You gave Me no water for My feet." No welcome, and no refreshment. Is this true of one reader of these lines? No welcome and no refreshment for Jesus when He came. He expects and seeks both.

"You did not anoint my head with oil" (Luke 7:46) shows us that it was usual to anoint guests. But this woman does more: she broke the box and poured it on His head. There is no stint here, but the contrary. Would that we were more like this in our worship, and had more to give the blessed Saviour.

It suggests friendship. Did Christ not complain that Simon failed to show Him this mark of friendship? (Luke 7:46). The oil may well remind us that only the Spirit of God can make such friendship possible. The result is that the soul is more than satisfied, and there is the overflow.

Three things the woman did stand against three courtesies Simon had not shown the Lord Jesus. Two points come out. This woman had done what Simon failed to do. She also went beyond anything Simon could have been expected to do... Olive oil was a cheap substance compared with perfume. There is also a clear contrast between the head and the feet here. Christ says in effect to Simon: "You didn't anoint my head, the nobler part, with ordinary oil. She has anointed my feet with costly ointment." This is the climax of the application of the parable.

After all, the entertainment that even a Pharisee — a religious man — provides for Jesus is very short... the poor reception betrayed how little his heart welcomed Jesus. Yet he thought to patronise Jesus. This is what natural religion always does. He thought he was doing Him honour. Instead he was feeding himself. The measured scale of what he provided for Jesus proved how low his idea of Him was... "You did not anoint my head with oil" — but here again see how far she went beyond — "but she has anointed my feet with ointment." Not even a king was so entertained.

What self-righteousness so ungraciously withheld, the poor penitent supplied. The Pharisee did not think He was worthy of a little water for His feet, far less the costly oil for His head. But who ever heard of self-righteousness having oil for the head, water for the feet, or a kiss of gracious welcome for the lowly Son of Man? But the humble penitent finds them all... A poor, fallen, degraded sinner — an open breaker of the law — enters the home of man's righteousness. She bows at the feet of the son of David. She carries off the blessing in the very face of the Pharisee's vain glory.

Jesus revealed God's heart, and the Pharisee proved without knowing it that he knew nothing of it. The woman had learnt it. His goodness had reached right into her. Her sense of it showed in her deep reverence towards the Lord Jesus. There she had met God; there God made Himself known to her as the God of all grace. It was not a doctrine, but a divine person of infinite love who attracted, filled and fixed her heart. All her way and bearing bore witness to her self-judgment, her faith and her love (for she loved much). Simon's conduct showed the opposite. In slighting Jesus and misjudging grace, he showed that he did not know God. But she knew Him — or rather, she was known by Him.

To His host the Lord turned and said, "Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much." The word "for" sometimes gives a reason. Sometimes it gives evidence. In this case it is the evidential "for," not the causative. It was not because she loved much that the Lord forgave her. It was His grace that caused her love.

But it was what she had seen in Jesus Himself which, by grace, melted her heart, and produced the love she had for Him — seeing what He was for sinners like herself. She thinks only of Him; He has taken possession of her heart, so as to shut out other influences. ... She saw what He was for a sinner, and that the most wretched and disgraced found a resource in Him... Her love did not earn this. God was revealing a glorious fact: the sins of a person whose heart has turned to God are fully pardoned, however many and however vile.

He does not say: "Many of her sins are forgiven." Suppose 90% of them were forgiven. In the numbers of the parable, that would be 450 out of the 500. But if that were the case she would be no better off than Simon, who was still a bankrupt sinner with his 50. The expression "her sins, which are many" means all her sins. The creditor did not forgive part of the debt, but the whole of it.

When the Lord declared her forgiven on this evidence that she loved much, He had not yet spoken to her. She had seen His acts and ways of love with others, and she had laid hold of the grace in it for her own need. His lips only confirm it to her.

She believed before she came. Her faith had brought her, but she did not know that her faith saved her. She loved before she came, and all that she did was the fruit of her love; yet not her love, but her faith saved her.

Simon did not owe just fifty pence while the woman owed five hundred. Before God, as the apostle teaches, there is no difference; "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23.) ... But what of Simon? He had shown no affection to the Lord. He had not even given Him the ordinary courtesies of a host toward his guest. So he proved that he "loved little" — he was not a man who owed only fifty pence, but a man to whom little was forgiven.

Did Simon realize that there was anything in his life that needed forgiveness? Did he dismiss it as "little"? ... Some think of their sins as being of little consequence, and so think they have no need of forgiveness. Others, whose sins are no worse, know their sins are a serious offense against God, and feel the weight of them. Their hearts cry out for forgiveness. When they realize they are forgiven, they love much.

Suppose a merchant has debts he knows he cannot meet; he would be afraid to look honestly through his books. But suppose some friend paid it all, and left him sure of a great fortune once everything was settled. Then he would no longer be afraid to look at them. Discovering how large his debt had been would only deepen his sense of his friend's love... Grace has put it all away; so the whole effect of discovering sin, when we know forgiveness, is to deepen the love and heighten the joy.

There is more. "And He said to her, Your sins are forgiven." Without this declared to herself, how much would have been lost! It was a great thing to hear Him tell those who judged her — and misjudged Him, which was far worse — "I say to you, Simon, her sins, which are many, are forgiven." How much more when He turned even to her and said, "Your sins are forgiven!"

Then the Lord addressed the woman, but did not refer to her sins as being many. He simply assured her they were forgiven. She had His word for it, so no doubt remained that all were fully forgiven. Wonderful certainty, for the Lord had said it!

The woman who drew near to Jesus with tears of repentance and faith had her sins actually forgiven. "Your sins are forgiven" — that is, sent away, dismissed. That was never said to Simon the Pharisee.

The word "for" is sometimes a reason why, and sometimes an evidence why. In this case it is the evidential "for," not the causative. It was not because she loved much that the Lord forgave her. It was His grace that caused her love.

When the Lord pronounced her a forgiven one on this evidence that she loved much, He had not yet spoken to her. What gives her faith such remarkable beauty and simplicity is that she had no word spoken directly to her to go on. She had seen His acts and ways of love with others, and she had laid hold of the grace in it for her own need. His lips only confirm it to her.

Here the Lord declares her sins forgiven. But notice: this came at the close of the interview, not the occasion of it. There is no ground to suppose that she knew her sins were forgiven before this... He speaks with authority, and guarantees forgiveness. Until Jesus said so, it would have been presumption for anyone then to act on the certainty that his sins were forgiven.

We do know that He declared forgiveness to the woman in the Pharisee's house, and without any offering that she had to bring to God's altar to get it. No sacrifice she could have taken to Jerusalem could ever have met her need. Deliberate sin was not provided for by the law; so the favour that was given to her is of such interest to all of us. It was a foretaste of the gospel of the grace of God.

If we had met this woman the next day and said to her, "Are your sins forgiven? Are you saved?" what would her reply have been? "Yes, I have forgiveness; I am saved." And if we then asked, "Are you quite sure your sins are forgiven?" — would she not have said, "Yes, quite sure. The Saviour told me so, and His word can never fail"?

When the Lord Jesus forgave a man in chapter 5, Luke writes that the people present "began to reason" (v. 21). Here they "began to say to themselves." Christ did not answer them as He did in chapter 5, though He knew their thoughts. Here He publicly vindicates the woman, who had justified Him by her acts of love. The people "began to say to themselves" in unbelief, unlike the prodigal in chapter 15 who "began to be merry" in communion with his father (v. 24).

She loved much, because she was forgiven much; and she felt it... and so she must hear how truly she was forgiven. The Lord says to her, "Your sins are forgiven." This drew out the inward question of those around, and not Simon's only.

The Lord did not only speak of her forgiveness to the Pharisee. He also spoke to her about it Himself. Those four words must have been balm to her weary spirit: "Your sins are forgiven."... The onlookers might well ask, "Who is this, who even forgives sins?" God was here in the fullness of grace in the humbled Saviour.

Only God can forgive sin... Either the Lord Jesus is God or this devotion to His person is open blasphemy and idolatry. Everything here revolves around the person of Christ.

We do know that He declared it to the woman in the Pharisee's house. And He did so without her bringing any offering to God's altar to obtain it. No sacrifice she could have taken to Jerusalem could possibly have met her need. The law made no provision for presumptuous sin. That is why the favour shown to her is of such interest to all of us. It was the first instalment of the gospel of the grace of God, which can now be freely and fully proclaimed to everyone on earth.

In the case before us the forgiveness has nothing to do with the present life. It is absolute, unconditional, and eternal... It was what ought to be in Christianity — a small foretaste or example of what was to be proclaimed in the Gospel. It is found only in Luke.

The Lord had answered Simon's thoughts. But others at the meal were dense enough to question within themselves how the Lord could forgive sins (v.49). He answered their unbelieving thoughts also, but not by speaking to them directly. Instead, He added even more striking words of encouragement to the woman, "Your faith has saved you. Go in peace" (v.50). Not only does He forgive: He saves and gives peace.

The notorious sinner heard it, and knew it was spoken of her, and to her. The vilest sinner in that house, as men count vileness, was the favoured one of all that company. The gracious announcement raised the question in many hearts: "Who is this, who even forgives sins?" But it seems that none of those who wondered this wanted that blessing for themselves. A person must be brought to feel his need before he is willing to receive forgiveness.

Others at the meal were dense enough to ask themselves how the Lord could forgive sins (v.49). He answered their unbelieving thoughts too, but not by speaking to them directly. Instead, He added still more striking words of encouragement to the woman, "Your faith has saved you. Go in peace" (v.50). Not only does He forgive: He saves and gives peace. He gives this assurance to the woman in front of all these doubters. At least He gave her no reason to doubt, whatever unbelieving doubts others may have.

It was evidently not the woman's first sense of the grace of Christ. She did what she did because in her heart she truly believed in Him. She believed before she came. Her faith had brought her, but she did not know that her faith saved her. She loved before she came, and all that she did was the fruit of her love; yet not her love, but her faith saved her. She loved much, because she was forgiven much; and she felt it.

To say her sins were forgiven because she did the acts the Lord praises reverses the whole parable. It contradicts verse 50, which says: "Your faith has saved you." Not your love! The parable teaches that both debtors had their debts cancelled for free, before either of them did a thing.

Not only did He forgive, He gave the woman the assurance of salvation, and also declared that her faith had been the means of it. Apart from this word, she might have imagined that her sorrow or her tears had won it. But no: it is faith that makes the all-important contact with the Saviour, and that contact brings salvation. She could indeed "Go in peace." She had forgiveness, which covered all her past. She also had salvation, which meant deliverance from the evil that had enslaved her.

He speaks of the past, "Your sins are forgiven"; He speaks of the future, "Your faith has saved you"; He speaks of the present, "Go in peace." As she got up and went home, do you think she envied even the greatest woman in the land? Now she had what wealth and honours could not buy, what He alone could give.

The last words of Jesus to the woman are very emphatic — "Go in peace." The first is a remarkable word — "Go." Some people never seem to learn its force in their own experience. They may be sincere believers, but they keep hanging about Christ with doubts. They do not know the forgiveness of sins and present peace. They keep asking to be made whole and hoping to be pardoned, when Christ says to them, You are forgiven: "Go." He says, "Your faith has SAVED you; go in peace!" It is as if He said: Have no more doubts, fears, or misgivings. You are made whole, pardoned, reconciled, a child of God, a sinner saved.

Our Lord uses this form of blessing, "Go in peace," in only one other place in the Gospels. There, as here, it goes with the faith that saved. Because of this link we have good reason to treat these words as weightier than the ordinary farewell greeting of the East. The Lord was far above merely human convention in speech. He had come to "ordain peace" for His people in the best and surest sense. Peace, as it is seen here, is something the soul owns inside. It is the opposite of the fret and anxiety that, at its worst, can rise in a person from the sense of guilt before God or from the fear of death. Only divine assurance can drive that anxiety out. So peace follows faith, and it belongs to the mind and heart.

Christ left His home at Capernaum (Matt. 11:1) and began a travelling ministry. The good news was not to be confined to places where there were synagogues.

At first the Lord preached in synagogues. But He would widen the sphere of His work to reach people, if possible, wherever they might be. It was the King proclaiming the kingdom. But what king had ever been called to do that, except Himself? He was the King, though in humiliation.

The opening verses show how thoroughly and systematically the Lord Jesus evangelised the cities and villages. He announced the kingdom of God. That involves God establishing His authority and securing man's salvation through judgment. It was too early yet to preach the Gospel of 1 Corinthians 15:1-4. But now that we have that Gospel, we can still preach the kingdom of God in its present form.

The grace in the heart of the Lord Jesus had to be made known through the whole country. But it was not yet known in its fullness, and not yet as something flowing from the value of the sacrifice of Calvary. So the Lord did not preach "the gospel of the grace of God," as Paul did later (Acts 20:24). He preached the good news of the kingdom of God. The kingdom emphasises authority rather than grace, yet grace was by no means lacking. In fact, anyone who honestly submits to the Lord's authority will realise his total dependence on His grace.

In this chapter we find how grace goes out in service. How undiscriminating His preaching of the good news of the kingdom of God is! Grace can go anywhere and everywhere as to its sphere. But it distinguishes according to God's will, because He must be sovereign. He pardons whom He will, and He hardens whom He will.

Up to this point they had been "with Him" to learn from His own lips the nature and character of His teaching. This companionship with the Master was named in the original terms of their appointment. The record of their call says the Lord "appointed twelve so that they might be with Him, and that He might send them out to preach, and to have authority to cast out demons."

The Apostles were soon to be sent out to preach. First they could learn how the Master handled the theme of that good news — a theme never dealt with on earth until He handled it.

The very fact that Christ came as the sower proved that Israel was set aside. If it had still been Israel as His vineyard, He would have come looking for fruit from the vine He had planted long before. He had come to Israel earlier, looking for fruit and finding none. He now comes in the new character of the sower, which is quite another thing.

This short statement gives us the real subject of the chapter: the ministry of the word, the good news of the kingdom of God, and what it does in people through divine power. Mary Magdalene is named first after the twelve disciples, as an example.

His "proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God" goes out to everyone alike! Grace can go anywhere and everywhere, but it makes its choice according to God's will, because He must be sovereign... So we find that grace produces fruit now, in this present life.

Mary Magdalene was a desperate case too, but her evil was of a wholly different kind. It was not corruption, but Satan's power. Demons held her, as we are told here: "from whom seven demons had gone out." That is how Scripture describes her, every time it mentions her. Scripture never charges her with moral looseness.

She was not a prostitute, as people commonly suppose. Her state was worse than that: a sevenfold vicious Satanic power had enslaved her, and Jesus set her free.

Mary of Magdala was one who loved much, for she had been delivered from the oppression of seven demons. Some have imagined this was moral depravity. It was not. It was spiritual captivity, frightening and crushing.

He did meet with this sorrowful outcast, and with His word of power He "cast out" from her the seven demons... She had been Satan's slave. He made her do whatever he wanted, however horrible and wicked, with her soul and body under his evil control. Now He brought her into the blessed circle where grace was supreme.

The first effect of the Lord's word was deliverance. The next was attraction. Grace flowed out so powerfully from our Lord and Saviour that it overpowered those who received it in their needs and sorrows. It cut them loose from everything that might have held them back, and drew them, like Levi, to Him and after Him in the path of devoted discipleship.

The two things stand in wonderful contrast. In one she was completely under Satan's power. In the other she was serving the Lord Jesus... She is really called 'Mary of Magdala,' a town near the Sea of Galilee.

The Lord of glory owns all creation. Yet in lowly humility He made Himself dependent on the service of women. That is a blessed testimony to the grace of His heart. At the same time, it gave them a chance to show what His grace meant to them, in a way that will receive a full reward from God.

So God called where you would least expect it. This woman belonged to the court of the false king, and she rejoiced that she was allowed to follow the despised but true King, Jesus of Nazareth.

He would widen the reach of His work to get to people, if possible, wherever they were. It was the King announcing the kingdom. But what king was ever called to do that, except Him? He was the King, though in humiliation. He was Lord of all, and He upheld all things by the word of His power. Yet certain women cared for Him — some of them, it seems, women of means, whom He had healed of evil spirits and illnesses.

Grace does not only forgive. Those who are forgiven are born anew, and they show their new life in fitting ways, in due time, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Among these was Mary called Magdalene, and seven demons had gone out of her. She was not a woman of the streets, as people commonly suppose. Her condition was worse than that. A sevenfold vicious satanic power had made her its slave, and Jesus had set her free... They had something to give, and they gave it to Him willingly and gladly. Rich men came and cared for Him at His death, but these women of means cared for Him during His life.

So God called in a place where you would least expect it. She belonged to the court of the false king, yet she rejoiced to be allowed to follow the despised but true King, Jesus of Nazareth.

Others were there too — "Susanna, and many others" — and we know nothing about them, except what grace gave them: in honouring Jesus they found their everlasting honour. They were drawn to the Lord Jesus, and they served Him as they could.

The Lord of glory owns all creation. Yet in lowly humility He made Himself dependent on the care of women. That is truly a blessed testimony to the grace of His heart. At the same time it gave them the chance to show what His grace meant to them, in a way that God will fully reward.

He would accept help from godly women out of their own money, and yet He met the needs of everyone around Him out of the treasures of the whole earth and all it holds... He never begs, though He does not have a penny. When He wanted to see one — not to use it Himself — He had to ask someone to show Him one.

They provided for them — that is, for the Lord and His twelve disciples — as the better reading has it. A woman's influence should not be looked down on. In personal service she has a place, and an honourable place... The Lord approved such service, and He accepted it as well.

Both under the law and under the gospel, this is God's revealed will and the desire of His heart: those who are truly called by Him to the work, and who give themselves to it earnestly, diligently and faithfully, should have the warm sympathy and practical help of His people. All who love Christ will count it their deepest joy to serve Him by serving His servants.