Matthew 22:1–14

We often read in the Gospels that Jesus answered when no one had asked Him a single question. Why does the Spirit of God say Jesus answered, when nobody asked Him? Because He knew the thoughts of their hearts. He answered not what they said, for they said nothing, but what He knew they would say if they dared — what He knew was at work inside them.

This parable gives what the last chapter never gave: a likeness of the kingdom of the heavens. In it we see God acting in grace, not man standing under His just claims. God no longer asks fruit from man, though He may and does produce fruit in those who receive His grace in Christ. The parable presents Him in sovereign majesty, making a marriage feast for His Son. This means a total change in His ways. He does not demand from men what is due. His own grace blesses them in honour of His Son.

The former parable gives the history of Israel under the law. This one shows how they behaved when divine grace came to them. Together, the two parables show that human nature fails completely under law and under grace alike. Such is man: if God asks him for something he will not give it; and if God offers him something he will not accept it.

The King is God; the son is the Lord Jesus. Notice that the bride does not appear in the parable at all: everything serves the pleasure of the son. God is acting on this principle in His dealings with men today. When He sends salvation to us, with all its priceless blessings for eternity, His first aim is to give joy and honour to His beloved Son. All God's purposes centre in Him.

This is something the king is doing, and inviting people to. He tells them that he is going to glorify his son. So around his son's marriage table he must have everything that would make the marriage glorious and blessed — everything that suits the glory of that son. It is all grace. It is clear that in a case like this everything comes from the person who makes the feast. No one could imagine the invited guests having to provide the meal. Why, it would be an insult to the king.

First the Jews, already invited, are called to the marriage feast. They would not come. This happened during Christ's lifetime. Afterwards, when all was ready, He sends messengers out again to urge them to come. This is the mission of the apostles to the nation, after the work of redemption was complete. They either despise the message or kill the messengers. The result is the destruction of those wicked men and of their city… Since they refuse the invitation, the destitute, the Gentiles, those who were outside, are brought in to the feast, and so the wedding has its guests… There must be fitness for the occasion. For a wedding feast there must be a wedding garment. If Christ is to be glorified, everything must match His glory. A man may enter the kingdom outwardly, by professing Christianity; but anyone not clothed with what belongs to the feast will be cast out. We must be clothed with Christ Himself.

As we think about it, we must be careful to notice the Holy Spirit's leading thought: "a certain king made a marriage feast for his son" (v. 2). The king — "the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God" (1 Tim. 1:17); the son — Christ Jesus, who "came into the world to save sinners" (v. 15). At such a feast everything would be of the best. It would be beneath such royalty to provide anything inferior, or anything that could even be matched.

Notice, at the start, how different the character of the parable is. It is not God's dealing with the natural conscience. It is not His looking for fruit as the owner of the vineyard. It is the king planning to honour his son out of the riches of his own house. Clearly the king is not presenting claims; he is giving — he is inviting... The one who gives a feast — especially if he is the king — provides everything. The guests are not expected to bring anything; nor is any return looked for. On the contrary, to think of such a thing would be to insult the king.

In this parable the king gives instead of demanding. He too has a "Son" in whose honour He makes a marriage feast, sending out His servants to call men in. The call pictures the gospel message well: "I have prepared… everything is ready. Come to the wedding feast." Prepared through the sacrifice of Christ. Ready, since His is a finished work. So it is not now "Go, work," but "Come."

Notice, it is the Marriage of the Lamb, not of the Bride, whoever she may be. God's object is Christ... In the same way, Matthew 22:2 gives us a lovely picture of God's grace to man: a marriage made by a king for his son. Here is a wedding feast described without even a mention of the wife. Is there anything like it anywhere else in literature? In this way God shows us something: when He provides good things for man, He is seeking first of all the joy and glory of His beloved Son.

We find the same parable in Luke's gospel (Luke 14:16-24), but in shorter form. In Luke it is simply a man who makes a feast; here it is the marriage feast of a king's son. In the Old Testament, marriage was a familiar picture of the covenant relationship between the people and their God. Here that relationship is with the Son of God — the Messiah. The bride, however, does not come into the scene. Only those invited to the marriage do, and the parable pictures the joys and blessings of union as a feast. The Jews are the guests already invited. But that message could go out only after the sacrifice of the Cross had made atonement: "See, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding feast."

Here too we have an historical unfolding, not of the past under law, but of God's dealings in grace. We begin with the gospel of the kingdom before our Lord's death in verse 3. Next in verse 4 the gospel goes out on the ground of His finished work. Only then was the urgent message that "all things were ready."

Have our souls entered, dear friends, into God's great thought? He is thinking about His Son. His heart is set on glorifying His Son, and He does it through the joy of those He brings in to the "wedding."... Were the guests at this table there merely to feast? Surely not. They were there for the wedding of the Son, and to do Him honour.

The whole idea is not how the guests will fare, or even how they will be dressed. It is what is worthy of Him — the One for whose glory the feast exists, and who is to have first place in everything. Grasp this thought, and in a way everything else stops being surprising. Yes, tell them, "See, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding feast." Who, in view of such vast preparations, could think of bringing his own food or clothing? To do so would be a direct insult to the king's "all things."

Here too we have a historical unfolding — not of the past under law, but of God's dealings in grace. We begin with the gospel of the kingdom before our Lord's death in verse 3. Next, in verse 4, the gospel goes out on the ground of His finished work. Only then came the urgent message that "everything was ready."

After verse 3 the cross comes in, for the "other servants" are those sent to Israel in the first seven chapters of Acts. Their message is that the dinner is already prepared and the oxen and fat calves killed. This implies that the sacrifice of Christ has fully prepared salvation for His people. They need only receive it, and they are urged to do so.

The first refusal is not treated as final. Christ came seeking fruit, and men rejected and killed Him. They rejected Him just as much when He invited Israel, through His disciples, to share the feast God had provided. But when they have rejected Him like this, grace still lingers over them, and His very death becomes the occasion of renewed invitations. "Everything is ready" — this could hardly have been said before — "come to the wedding feast."

God's invitation to the wedding feast of His Son goes first to those who had the promises, who had received so many proofs of His forgiving love, who were called and claimed to be His own — to the Jews. And they would not come! In such a case we would not be inclined to repeat the offer; but God does repeat it. As before, He sends fresh messengers to invite them; and to remove all doubt, He describes the preparations in detail.

In this parable the king does not demand anything from anybody. He gives instead of demanding. He too has a "Son" in whose honour He makes a marriage feast, sending out His servants to call people in. How fitting the call is as a picture of the gospel message: "I have prepared… everything is ready: come to the wedding feast." Prepared through the sacrifice of Christ. Ready, since His is a finished work. So it is not now "Go, work," but "Come."

It is a blessed thing to tell an awakened sinner that in Jesus everything is ready that he needs for forgiveness of sins, righteousness, and life. It is no less blessed to tell those who have come to Jesus that everything is ready for their worship in the most holy place. The blessed Jesus Himself has arranged everything there for their entrance, and He Himself has opened the way for their approach.

What was the effect? "But they paid no attention and went off, one to his farm, another to his business." God was not in their thoughts. A man's own field or his trade filled them instead. And sadly, as God increases the testimony of His grace, man grows bolder in his contempt and opposition... You find this to some extent in the Acts of the Apostles. In the earlier chapters people ignore the message. In chapters 7 and 12 they abuse the servants and kill them.

After verse 3 the cross comes in. The "other servants" are those sent to Israel in the first seven chapters of Acts. Their message is that the dinner is already prepared and the oxen and fattened cattle killed... But they despise this second message of grace. One goes to his farm, just as the Jews have chosen the works of their own hands instead of God's provision of grace. Another chooses his business, a way of earthly gain instead of heavenly riches.

Here we find the two kinds of men. There are the preoccupied, whose interest is in the world, and who do not bother about the Lord. And there are the violent, who persecute His messengers.

The principle of man's heart shows itself not only in despising the claim, but in slighting the grace of God, and in killing His witnesses. The carelessness that makes a sinner despise the king's grace is, in principle, the very same thing that would make him kill the Son.

The natural heart places no value on the things of God. To it God's promise is vague, worthless and powerless, simply because it does not know God. This is why present things carry such weight in man's judgment. Anything a man can see, he values, because sight governs him, not faith. To him the present is everything; the future carries no weight at all... So Esau despised his birthright... So those invited to the wedding despised the invitation.

They chose to despise God's invitation. They had other things of their own to see to, and thought them more important. They went off, "one to his farm, another to his business." Stranger still, and it proves how much man hates the grace of God when his conscience has not submitted to His righteousness — "The rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them!"

The message says, "I have prepared my dinner." The gospel feast is ready, thank God, ready long ago. When was it prepared? When the risen Saviour took His seat on His Father's throne. God has done all the preparing. All the cost has fallen upon Him; and now how about the invited — the guests? Sadly, we read, "They paid no attention." Sad history of man.

What a story! Man prefers his farm or his business to God's bright courts of joy... But what of the gracious Host? Does this rude welcome chill His heart? Is the door shut for ever against wicked man? No! With a loving hand He throws that feast door wide open. He invites everyone. He welcomes the worst.

Those first invited were the Jews, and of course also during the lifetime of Christ (v. 3). Afterwards, when all things were ready, He sent His servants once more. These were the apostles, after His death. They were to invite them to the wedding feast (v. 4), but they made light of it. We find here two kinds of men. There are the preoccupied, whose interest is in the world and who do not trouble themselves about the Lord. And there are the violent, who persecute His messengers (v. 5, 6).

But simple rejection of the gracious offer is not all. "The rest (the leaders of the people) laid hold of his servants, ill-treated them and killed them." The book of Acts shows how literally these words of the Lord came true. The climax was the stoning of Stephen.

Here it is not the Lord of the vineyard seeking fruit — God requiring of man the service, the obedience, due to Him. No, it is a king inviting to a wedding feast: God, in His grace, providing everything for man, and inviting him to share in it. But he is no more inclined to receive God's bounty than to satisfy God's claims. They would not come. But this is not all; the first refusal is not treated as final... Men reject and kill Christ when He comes seeking fruit. They reject Him just as much when He invites Israel, through His disciples, to share the feast which God had provided.

The evil heart showed itself in disowning the claim of God, but even more in despising His marvellous grace. A sinner slights the King's invitation to the feast out of carelessness. That carelessness is exactly the same in kind as what would lead him to kill His messengers, or even His Son. Man's "own way" may produce any of these results.

"They made light of it, and went their way, one to his farm, another to his merchandise." God was not in their thoughts, but a man's own field or his trade. And, sadly, as God increases the testimony of His grace, man grows bolder in his contempt and opposition. "And the rest seized His servants and treated them shamefully and killed them" (vv. 5, 6). This is what you find, in measure, in the Acts of the Apostles. Men disregard the message in the earlier chapters. In chapters 7 and 12, they outrage and kill the servants.

There were two distinct missions to Israel; one before, and one after, the cross of Calvary. The second mission met violence against the messengers: they "treated them shamefully and killed them." The children of those who killed the Old Testament prophets treated the New Testament apostles in the same way. Peter, John, and Paul felt their cruelty, and they murdered Stephen and James... Judgment followed, as the parable foretold. The King's armies (in this case the Romans, under Titus) destroyed the murderers and burned up their city.

This whole parable, when the Lord spoke it, was prophetic of the gospel period. The gospel is really an invitation from God to men to come and share in His delight in His Son. This invitation was sent first to Jerusalem, for the disciples had to begin there (Luke 24:47), and it is to the Jew first (Romans 1:16). But they did not want God's pardoning and enriching grace. That city had been guilty of the blood of God's Son, in whom He delighted. There Stephen and others were martyred. So God in His wrath allowed the Roman armies to come up in AD 70 to carry out His word against Jerusalem. God calls them His armies, because they carried out His judgment. Jerusalem is the city in question: "those invited were not worthy" (v. 8). Paul takes up this very word in Acts 13:46 as he turns from the Jews to the Gentiles.

There were two distinct missions to Israel, one before and one after the cross of Calvary. Israel met the second mission with violence to the messengers; they "treated them shamefully, and killed them." The children of those who killed the Old Testament prophets treated the New Testament apostles in the same way. Peter, John and Paul suffered their cruelty, and they murdered Stephen and James.

There is not a word about this in Luke. It was fitting to bring it forward in the Gospel intended for the warning as well as the winning of the Jew. And only there was it written. The destruction of Jerusalem came on the Jews because they rejected Christ, and last of all rejected the Holy Spirit in the preaching of the apostles.

Their guilt in this especially, though not in this alone, drew on them the wrath of "the king." All righteous blood came upon them, and their house is left desolate to this day. This came by the dreaded hand of the Romans, the very power they claimed to appease by the death of Jesus. Such is the way and the end of unbelief.

This brings certain retribution. Israel is set aside for the time being, left without priest or altar or sacrifice, as it is to this day.

This fills up the measure of their wickedness, and the king sends his armies (the Romans). But is His grace to be disappointed, and His table left without guests? No — the servants go out into the highways to gather everyone they can find, good and bad, and in the end the wedding hall is full of guests. What precious evidence of the grace that now gathers us, whatever we are, to share the feast! God has prepared that blessedness for us out of His own grace, and for the honour of His Son.

The gospel feast is ready, thank God, ready long ago. When was it prepared? When the risen Saviour took His seat on His Father's throne. God has done all the preparing. All the cost has fallen upon Him.

They would not come. After Christ's death everything was ready, and the king invited them again. But they made light of it. They went off to their own business, or treated the messengers badly, even killing them. This brought judgment on them and on their city Jerusalem. They were not worthy. So the King sends out to people who had no claim to such a privilege and no hope of it. He sent to sinners of the Gentiles, and the wedding was filled with guests.

This is not the Messiah King of Israel now, but the Son of God. The parable pictures the move from Judaism to Christianity. Verses 1-7 look ahead to the book of Acts. They run right down to God's governmental judgment in the Roman siege of Jerusalem, and the terrible price Israel had to pay for refusing Christ when He was on earth. They take in the Holy Spirit's testimony to His glory now that He has ascended. At verse 8 the parable moves on to the work of grace among the Gentiles, or perhaps, more properly, mankind in general.

But God will have His house filled with guests. Those specially favoured would not come, and they brought wrath on themselves to the uttermost. Even so, human stubbornness will not thwart divine grace — evil must be overcome with good… The gospel goes out to men as they are. Wherever people receive it, it produces by grace what is according to God, instead of demanding it. So all are welcome, bad and good — a dying thief or a woman who was a sinner, a Lydia or a Cornelius. The question was not their character, but the feast for the King's Son, and they were freely called to it. Grace does not ask for fitness; it gives it, so that we can stand before Him in peace.

His house must be filled to honour His Son's marriage. Fresh guests must be found… The distinguishing principle is the full outflow of grace. God's love is active. It goes out into the world and brings people in to share the blessings He Himself has provided… This is the principle God is acting on in the gospel. It is clear that He provides everything. He is not claiming fruit, but ministering blessing.

The invited guests were not worthy. So the king sends his servants out into the public streets to invite everyone, with no restriction of any kind — the universal call of the gospel now. "Bad and good" are welcome alike: the best need salvation, and it is enough for the worst. The response is still not as wide as the call, but the empty seats are filled all the same.

God will have His house filled. If you refuse, then someone else will benefit from your folly by stepping in and taking your place. That door will not always be open wide.

But God will have His house filled with guests. If those who had special favour would not come, and brought wrath on themselves to the uttermost, divine grace will not be blocked by human stubbornness — evil must be overcome by good... Here the gospel calls every soul, with no distinction... The gospel goes out to men as they are. Wherever people receive it, it produces by grace what is according to God, instead of demanding it. So all are welcome, bad and good — a dying thief or a woman who was a sinner... The question was not their character, but the feast for the King's Son; and to this they were freely called. Grace, far from asking, gives fitness to stand before Him in peace.

Here we see the invitation going out to people outside the privileges and promises of the Jews. They had no hope, and they were without God in the world. It went out to the Gentiles... The distinguishing principle is the full outflow of grace. God's love goes out into the world and brings people in to share the blessings He Himself has provided... He clearly provides everything. He is not claiming fruit, but ministering blessing.

They made no exception; they were to leave no one uninvited. The king's command is clear — "As many as you find, invite to the wedding feast."

Are you hesitating about your own worthiness? Do you say, "Oh, but the state of my soul does not fit someone called to the marriage supper of the King's Son"? In that sense the state of your own soul does not matter; "they gathered all whom they found, both bad and good." If the King invites you, it makes no difference whether His invitation meets you in the "highways" as a beggar or as a prince. What are you doubting about? Surely God has not made a mistake in inviting you? Of course you are not worthy to be before the King. But He called you without expecting to find any worthiness in you. He knew the unworthiness of your heart before He called you.

In this parable we do not have "the servant," as in Luke, but "the servants." These are not the Spirit of God in His sovereign and secret work. They are saved men who know nothing of these secret things and just do the King's business. Do they find anyone in the broad highways of the world? Then they give the invitation, without asking about their character or about whether they are chosen.

We may say, "The gospel is preached, let them come and hear it." Or, "God can save and bring them in without us." But what does Scripture say? "And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, 'How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!'" (Rom. 10:15.) Trace it through the Scriptures wherever you please. The standing principle is that the evangelist goes to the people with the good news. That is why his feet are called beautiful.

God will have His house filled. If you refuse, then someone else will gain from your folly by stepping in and taking your place. That door will not always stand wide open. Before long the Master of the house will rise and shut the door (Luke 13:25).

Here we see the invitation sent out to those who were outside the privileges and promises of the Jews. They had no hope, and they were without God in the world. It went out to the Gentiles... The distinguishing principle is the full outflow of grace. God's love is active: it goes out into the world and brings people in to share the blessings He Himself has provided. His love goes out in simple grace to find "good or bad" to share the goodness of His house. It is clear: He provides everything. He is not claiming fruit, but ministering blessing.

The gospel goes out to men as they are. Wherever people receive it, it produces by grace what is according to God, instead of demanding it. So all are welcome, bad and good — a dying thief or a woman who was a sinner, a Lydia or a Cornelius. The question was not their character, but the feast for the King's Son; and to this they were freely called. Grace, far from asking, gives the fitness to stand before Him in peace.

In the parable of Luke 14 we find one servant, who no doubt represents the Holy Spirit. Here many servants are in view. They represent the human instruments the Spirit may use. They go into the highways, inviting all, as many as they meet, whether bad or good... The gospel preacher does not have to burden himself with questions about God's electing grace. He simply has to pass the word on to everyone he meets, gathering in all who respond, for God will touch the hearts of men.

Do you think of the furniture that suits a royal home, and on such an occasion?... Are these, or even greater, glories the furniture that attracts the king's attention? No. The wedding was "furnished" with guests. And every guest there spoke to the King's eye and heart of the unequalled sufferings of His Son, and of the depths of lowliness He went down to. Every guest spoke of the grace that led Him who knew no sin to be made sin for us, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.

After that, the gospel went out into the highways, that is, among the Gentile nations. The Christian profession took shape, and the wedding was furnished with guests. The servants brought them all in, and many are there in name only. They have neither felt nor owned their need of a righteousness that is not their own; they trust in themselves. But the King, who will make no mistakes such as His servants have made, is coming to view the guests. Then comes the sorting. Only those who have given up their own merits and have Christ for their righteousness will stay at the marriage.

The verse speaks only of those whom the Christian call finds, without any sorting in the servants' eyes. It says nothing at all about what grace does for the guilty when they are clothed with the marriage garment.

The King comes in to see His guests. This cannot be in heaven, where the Church is gathered, for no false believers will be there. As we said, what presses on our heart here is a solemn truth, not an exact timetable of events... The King comes in, not to look for enemies, but to see His friends. Yet the enemies have to be found out. Their refusal to take the wedding garment He provides is what marks them.

A wedding feast calls for a wedding garment, and nobody can do without it. The King provided it out of His own great generosity, and each guest had only to wear it. Who that honoured the King and the occasion would refuse? The servants did not look for such garments outside. Nobody wore them on the highways; they were worn inside at the wedding. The point was not for the guests to turn up in their best. Giving was the King's business. Whoever came, there was more than enough; "everything is ready."

If a guest invited by the king came in wearing costly clothes he had provided himself, or if a poor guest wore his own rags, either would have insulted the king. Each would have despised both the robe provided and the feast he was invited to. Only the one who invites people to the wedding can give them a garment fit for the occasion. Two things are set aside completely: the idea that anything in ourselves qualifies us to come in, and the fear that our condition will shut us out. Our blessing depends on one single thing — the sufficiency and the grace of the one who invites.

This was the ground for immediate action. Nobody asked what the man had been or had done. The servants had orders to bring in the bad as well as the good... He may even have been the most correct, moral and religious person there, like the young ruler who left the Lord in sorrow. But whether he was a degraded sinner or a self-righteous soul, one thing is certain: he had no wedding garment on. That caught the King's eye at once. He was treating the King's grace as nothing, and openly dishonouring His Son.

Only the language of the gospel, as we find it elsewhere, makes the spiritual meaning clear. The "robe of righteousness" (Isaiah 61:10) with which God covers His people can only carry the fullest gospel meaning. Christ alone is made our righteousness (1 Corinthians 1:30), and, as with the first covering God gave for the nakedness of sinful man, it is death that in His wonderful way has supplied it. He is God's free gift to all who will receive Him, and that fact will strike dumb everyone who at last stands before God without Him.

Nothing in the parable suggests that the other guests thought he was any different from themselves. The imitation was that thorough. And so it is now. Huge numbers today claim to be religious, and no one on earth could feel quite sure whether they are real Christians or only formal ones. Their lives are strictly moral. They regularly attend some place of worship, they give money for church, mission and charitable causes, and they sing psalms and hymns as sweetly as anyone. They read the Scriptures, they pray, and they may even preach in public. Yet look for the unmistakable signs of divine life in the soul, and the search is in vain.

Every sinner adorns himself with it the moment his heart values Christ. And what a joy it is to know that when we put on Christ, we are not putting on sackcloth, and we are not entering a spirit of heaviness. A wedding garment has clothed us, and we dress our spirits in the garment of praise!

The king therefore in his coming sees a man without a wedding garment. This was an actual insult to the king, for a wedding garment was furnished by the host when the invitation was given. One's neglecting to wear it was an affront to the best.

No one expected a crowd gathered at random from the highways to own clothing fit for a royal banqueting hall. So the King had provided wedding robes. The man the King's eye fell on dared to insult the King by turning up in clothes of his own. He either thought too much of his own clothes to put them aside, or too little of what suited the King's presence to wear the wedding garment.

Suppose a guest invited by the king were a rich man, and tried to come in wearing expensive clothes of his own providing. Or suppose a poor man tried to wear his ragged clothes. Either way it would have been an insult to the king. It would despise both the robe provided and the occasion he was invited to. The one who invites to the wedding is the only one who can give the guests clothing that suits the occasion. Two things are set aside completely: the thought that anything in ourselves gives us the capacity to come in, and the fear that our state will shut us out. Our blessing depends on one single thing — the sufficiency and the grace of the one who invites.

The wedding garment is Christ. So this guest came before the King without Christ. He had not put on Christ! Whatever the pretence, it was all and only himself, not Christ… But the very worst of sinners who takes Christ as his only confidence to stand before God proves God right and exalts His grace. He is like a man broken down in his thoughts about himself. He looks up and says: I cannot trust what I have been, nor even what I want to be. But I can trust what You are to me in the gift of Your Son.

The King raised no question about what the man had been or done. The servants had orders to bring in the bad as well as the good… This man may even have been the most correct, moral and religious person there, like the young ruler who went away from the Lord in sorrow. But whether he was a degraded sinner or a self-righteous soul, one thing is certain — he had no wedding garment on. That caught the King's eye at once. He was treating the King's grace as nothing, and it was an open dishonour to His Son.

He got into the marriage feast with a careless heart, thinking of himself and relying on some quality of his own nature. But then his sense of what was fitting and necessary woke up, and nothing stopped it working in his conscience. One simple, plain question is put to him: should anyone in such a dress be in such a place? He is "speechless." He is convicted. He has nothing to say. His own judgment tells him that a man like him has no business in a place like that.

The man is questioned and has no answer. When the Lord judges, no one will dare to open his mouth in self-defense.

On the outside you may not make light of God's invitation. To all appearances you may be a Christian, diligent in all religious matters. Dressed in the clothes of your own righteousness, you may stand up to the most experienced eye. But you do not have Christ — the wedding garment. A moment is coming when God will read you through and through, stop your mouth, and pronounce your judgment.

"And he was speechless." His memory is sharpened, his conscience fully awake, his sin seen in its true colours, and the majesty of God understood. Who would dare say a word!

To the demand, "Friend, how did you come in here without a wedding garment?" he was speechless, without excuse. Could he then plead for mercy and beg for a covering not his own? No, it was too late for that; it was too late. The sentence of the insulted king went out. "Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness." The king carried out that sentence at once. He cast the man out of the feast, and his rags became the chains that bound his soul in everlasting misery. He was searched, silenced and sentenced.

Here, notice, nothing is said to the man about what we may call his sins in general. The charge is simply that he had come in without the wedding garment. He had refused the grace of God, which alone could meet his need. So all his other sins, of heart and life, remained, and sank with him into the place of outer darkness.

Suppose a guest invited by the king were a rich man, and tried to come in wearing fine clothing of his own providing. Or suppose a poor man tried to wear his ragged garments. Either way it would have been an insult to the king. It would despise both the "robe" provided and the occasion he was invited to. The one who invites to the wedding is the only one who can provide the guests with a garment suited to the occasion.

The wedding garment is Christ. This guest therefore came before the King without Christ. He had not put on Christ! Whatever the pretence, it was all and only himself, not Christ, and that is everlasting ruin and condemnation to a sinner.

All the confusion about the wedding garment comes from a wrong idea of the parable. People give it a church application and put the scene in Heaven. However, the church is not in view here at all. It is, as in Matthew 13, the Kingdom of the heavens, the professing sphere of Christendom… It is made up of professors and possessors. The call goes out, many hear and follow it, but not all believe in their hearts and are saved. The man without the wedding garment represents this class, and it is a large one.

Notice that the word translated "servants" in verses 3, 4, 6, 8, is not the same as the one used in verse 13. The first (bondservants) refers to those who go out with the Gospel. The second (ministers) refers to the angels who carry out His judgments. These two things are never confused.

Inside the banquet hall there is joy and light. Outside it is night, and those who are there have no share in the joy inside… It is a place of weeping, of eternal grief. There is also gnashing of teeth. This may point not only to remorse, but also to anger; an eternal rebellion against God.

If Matthew 22:13 spoke only of a temporary judgment, then no hypocrite would ever face any other judgment. And if this judgment is not temporary, the whole system falls.

The wedding feast that the King makes for His Son, and to which He invites guests, pictures God's gracious offer to give joy, comfort and blessing to those He wants to share in it. It is for the Son, in honor of the Son, that the feast is made. This parable points to far more than the two parables before it. It goes beyond the cross, for the offer goes out not only to Israel but also to the Gentiles.

"Election" means choosing. And the calling is of those whom He has chosen; it is the making good of their election. In "many are called but few are chosen," the two are set against each other, not as here where they go together.

Matthew 22:14 seems clearly profession, or outward calling; the chosen, those owned in the wedding.

The gospel call goes out to "as many as you find," and the external result is that "the wedding hall was filled with guests." But verses 11-13 show what makes it real. Being there, and blessed, is not of man's will but of God's calling in grace.

That is, the man who had not the wedding garment, though called to the feast, was not chosen as a guest. He was cast into outer darkness. Outwardly he had heard and accepted the invitation. But he had not used the garment the bridegroom provided for the guests, so he was rejected.

The wedding garment is Christ. This guest therefore came before the King without Christ. He had not put on Christ! Whatever the show he made, it was all and only himself, not Christ. For a sinner, that means everlasting ruin and condemnation. But take the very chief of sinners. If he accepts Christ as his one confidence to stand before God, he thereby justifies and exalts Him and His grace.

"For many are called (that is, by the gospel), but few are chosen." In the end it is only a "little flock." That is not because grace was not ample for them all. It is because people abuse grace, and Christ is in so few — though He is all in those who have Him.

The fault and the blame were his own. The garment was free, and to refuse it was to insult the host. Mere outward assent is not enough; there must also be the acceptance of the offered garment, and this is what makes the choice valid. How significant this fact in this day of widespread profession! People give general assent to the call. Bad and good have heard it outwardly and have taken up the Christian profession. But even of these, few have accepted the wedding garment — the title to the feast. Few are morally fit, pardoned, justified, having Christ for their righteousness. For such there can be only outer darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth. Reader, have you the wedding garment?