And the king, having gone in to see the guests, beheld there a man not clothed with a wedding garment.
The hall is full, the servants have brought in strangers from the roads, and nothing is left but the feast. Then the King comes in, and one guest has arrived on his own terms.
This is not a hunt for enemies. The King comes to see His friends, and the visit finds out those who are not.
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.
No one had to arrive dressed for a royal feast. The clothing belonged to the occasion, and the host supplied it.
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."
The garment was a gift. So the rich man and the beggar would offend in the same way by keeping their own clothes.
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.
The King asked nothing about the man's record. Only the missing robe mattered.
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.
The rest of Scripture shows what the robe means.
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.
He sat among them and nobody noticed. That is the warning for anyone who measures himself by the people around 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.
The robe is not a burden. It is the dress of a celebration.
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!
- Gift — The garment was the King's to give, not the guest's to find. No one who came in off the roads could dress himself for a royal feast.
- Refusal — The man's sin was not his past but his choice. By keeping his own clothes he despised the grace that had clothed everyone else.
- Equality — Fine clothes and rags offend in the same way. Both replace what the King gave, and our standing rests on the grace of the One who invites.
- Detection — The other guests saw nothing wrong with him. Only the King could tell the real from the imitation, so measuring yourself by other church-goers proves nothing.
- Joy — Christ Himself is the robe. Whoever puts Him on wears no sackcloth, but a wedding garment and the garment of praise.
And he says to him, [My] friend, how camest thou in here not having on a wedding garment? But he was speechless.
The king's servants had filled the feast from the roads, bringing in "both bad and good." Now the king walks in and finds one guest with no wedding garment. His question is not about the man's past or his morals.
The whole force of the king's question rests on a detail of the setting: the guest was never expected to supply his own robe.
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.
Since a crowd pulled in off the highways could not be expected to own royal clothing, the provision was made in advance — and refusing it was a deliberate act.
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.
The parable never says what the man wore. Rich or ragged, his own clothes were the problem.
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.
Commentators read the garment as Christ Himself.
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 servants brought in bad and good alike, so the man's record was not what shut him out. One thing did.
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.
The king's question invites an answer. The man says nothing, and his own judgment is the reason.
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.
That silence is not unique to him.
The man is questioned and has no answer. When the Lord judges, no one will dare to open his mouth in self-defense.
This warning is not for people who turn the invitation down. It is for people whose religious life looks flawless.
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.
- Provided — Only the king who invites can supply clothing fit for his feast, and he had already supplied it.
- Refused — Rich clothes or rags made no difference. Wearing your own meant refusing the king's, and that was the insult.
- Christ — The garment stands for Christ. To come without it was to dishonour the King's Son.
- Unmasked — Reputation counted for nothing. A moral, religious man could still be the one the king's eye stopped at.
- Speechless — The king calls him "friend," and he says nothing. His own conscience agrees that he does not belong.