But seeing the crowds, he went up into the mountain, and having sat down, his disciples came to him;
Crowds have been streaming to Jesus from every direction, and now He climbs a hillside and sits down to teach. The first verse already raises three questions: which mountain, who was listening, and what kind of teaching this is.
Jesus taught with a whole country's attention already fixed on Him.
The attention of the whole country was drawn to Him, and vast crowds followed Him, eager to hear His gracious words. So He unfolds the character of the kingdom of heaven, and of the people who would enter it, in what is commonly called the Sermon on the Mount. It opens with the beatitudes.
Older English Bibles read "a mountain" here. That is not quite what the wording says.
In Matthew 5:1; 14:23; and Mark 3:13, "the mountain" does not mean one particular mountain well known by that name. Nor does it mean "a mountain," as the King James Version has it. It means "the mountain" in the sense of the hill country or highlands, in contrast with "the plain."
His posture carries meaning too.
I take it that the Lord sitting there suggests the Teacher. When we read of the Lord walking, disciples are to see in Him the example they should follow. But when He sits, it is more as Teacher. A completely new set of principles is coming out, and the Lord sits as the great Teacher of this crowd.
The scene recalls Moses on a mountain. But the One seated here is greater.
The Spirit in Matthew loves to present Christ as the One like Moses, whom they were to hear. He presents Jesus not simply as a law-giving prophet-king like Moses, but far greater. It is never forgotten that the Nazarene was the Lord God. That is why this whole sermon on the mountain carries the tone of One who knew Himself to be God with men. Jehovah called Moses up to the top of one mount. Now He who then spoke the Ten Commandments sat on another mount. There He taught His disciples the character of the kingdom of heaven.
The verse names two groups: the crowds He saw, and the disciples who came to Him. Who He speaks to shapes how we read the rest.
The crowds were present, but He addressed the discourse to His disciples… In the sermon on the mount He lays down the principles of the kingdom. He describes the character of those who would enjoy its privileges. He gives definite directions for how they are to live… So moral principles and precepts, not redemption, are the subject of the discourse.
Another man once climbed a mountain and came back with law.
Moses, the mediator of the old covenant, went up into the mountain where he received the law. But here is a greater one than Moses: the Mediator of a better covenant, and the King at the same time. He begins with blessings, the blessings of grace.
Yet this sermon is not an offer of salvation.
As to the sermon, it teaches the righteousness that belongs to all who enter the Kingdom of the heavens. Only those born of the Spirit can meet the state of soul that is blessed in the Lord's eyes. It is not a requirement as on Sinai, but Christ's description of those who suit the Kingdom. Not a word of grace to sinners is uttered. It is not the gospel of God's grace to the lost. It is His words for His disciples, and personal obedience is the rock at its close.
Luke's Gospel places a very similar sermon on level ground. Is that a second sermon, or the same one?
- Crowds — The whole country's attention was on Him, and vast crowds followed. That gathering is the setting of the sermon.
- Mountain — "The mountain" means the hill country, not a named peak. It marks the kind of ground, not a landmark.
- Seated — When the Lord walks He is the example; when He sits He is the Teacher, and a new set of principles begins.
- Greater — Moses climbed one mount to receive the law. Here the One who spoke the Ten Commandments sits on another mount and opens with blessings.
- Disciples — The crowds listen, but He speaks to His disciples. His subject is the character of the kingdom, not redemption.
and, having opened his mouth, he taught them, saying,
Matthew's Gospel has spent four chapters presenting the King. Here the King begins to speak. One short line of narrative carries a great deal: who was listening, what He taught, and by what right He taught it.
The setting itself is affectionate. The teaching that follows also has a shape.
And now we read, "When He sat down, His disciples came to Him. And He opened His mouth and taught them" (Matt. 5:1-2). Oh, how He loves to have His own near Himself. You will notice that there are nine "Blessednesses." You will also see that they divide into first seven, and then two.
The mouth that opens here has its own story across the Gospels.
As a dependent Man He relied on God's mouth, the Giver and Sustainer of life (Matt. 4:4; Luke 4:4). In His earthly ministry the Lord opened His mouth to teach and bless (Matt. 5:2ff). And as the Revealer of secrets He opened His mouth as foretold by the prophet (Matt. 13:35).
Verse 1 mentions the crowds, but the word "them" points at a narrower group. Reading the sermon well starts with getting this right.
In that discourse, then, the Lord had His own disciples right in front of Him... The disciples were a group who had truly received Jesus as the Messiah by the Spirit of God. Judas was an exception, and so was any other special case like him, if there were any. They had not chosen Him, but He had chosen them, that they should go and bear fruit, and that their fruit should remain. They were gathered around Him as His witnesses. Even now they were separated from the rest of the nation in a measure — that is, in faith and affection to His person. Soon His death and resurrection would separate them far more fully, and so would the power of the Holy Spirit sent down from heaven.
A teacher going up a mountain to speak to Israel had happened once before, and the contrast is the point.
The first section in the fifth chapter, from verse one to verse sixteen, is before us. Seeing the crowds, He went up on the mountain, and when He sat down, His disciples came to Him. And He opened His mouth and taught them. Moses, the mediator of the old covenant, went up into the mountain where he received the law. But here is a greater one than Moses: the Mediator of a better covenant, and the King at the same time. He begins with blessings, the blessings of grace.
What follows verse 2 is often read as advice for anyone. Commentators here read it as instruction for people already inside the kingdom.
As to the sermon, it is instruction in the righteousness proper to all who enter the Kingdom of the heavens. Only those born of the Spirit can meet the state of soul that is blessed in the Lord's eyes. It is not a requirement as at Sinai, but Christ's description of those who suit the Kingdom. Not a word of grace to sinners is spoken. It is not the gospel of God's grace to the lost. It is His words for His disciples, and personal obedience is the rock at its close.
Miss that, and the sermon becomes a ladder for self-improvement.
People do not understand that the Lord was addressing those in relationship with Himself as subjects of grace. So they assume that man in the flesh can produce these moral traits, apart from the new nature given at new birth. And so the whole truth of the gospel is set aside. This is why many admire the Sermon on the Mount while rejecting the truth of the gospel as set out in the New Testament.
He quotes no one. He argues from no earlier teacher.
Note, too, His authority. If it is the glory of other teachers to hide behind their theme, it is not so with Him. He brings His Person to the front, and that without apology, in the most simple and unaffected way. He spoke with authority without stopping to say why, and commanded without declaring His right... He always honoured and fulfilled Holy Scripture. Yet He cites no previous authority for what He says: He taught them as One having authority and not as the scribes.
- He sits — the King takes the teacher's seat and draws His own close, because He loves to have them near Him.
- He opens — the same mouth that lived on God's word and revealed hidden things now opens to teach and bless.
- He addresses — the "them" is the disciples. He chose them, and faith and affection for His person already set them apart from the nation.
- He surpasses — Moses climbed a mountain and came down with law. A greater than Moses climbs one and starts with blessing.
- He commands — this is kingdom righteousness for people already born of the Spirit. The One who speaks it cites no authority above His own.
Blessed [are] the poor in spirit, for *theirs* is the kingdom of the heavens.
The Sermon on the Mount opens by describing who is blessed in the kingdom, and it starts with a quality that runs against everything people admire. Everything turns on what "poor in spirit" means, and on how a kingdom can belong to people who have nothing.
One writer locates this poverty inside a person rather than in their circumstances, and tests it with an everyday example:
The first beatitude, notice, lies at the basis of all the others. It is not only a distinct feature in itself, but it should mark all the others and all who belong to Jesus. Surely nothing can be so necessary to a soul that has to do with God as poverty of spirit. Not poverty in circumstances only, or poverty in words and ways, but in spirit. It is poverty in the heart, the feelings, the inward man, and all before the living God. How often we may have said about someone who has injured us, "I freely forgive him, and I will be the same to him as ever. But I can't forget it for all that." That is not being "poor in spirit."
Another writer traces the order of these blessings and shows where a person enters it:
He really sketches for us a moral picture of the godly remnant who will finally enter the kingdom. He mentions eight things. They begin with poverty of spirit and end with persecution, and their order forms a sequence. Repentance produces poverty of spirit, and there all must start. Then comes the mourning and the meekness that a true sight of oneself produces. After that comes a thirst for the righteousness which is only found in God.
One writer sums up the phrase in three denials:
To be poor in spirit is to have low thoughts of self, to realise that before God I am nothing, I have nothing, I deserve nothing. It would be quite consistent with standing up for what is due to God.
Set that against what people admire, and the contrast is total:
Nothing more contrary to man! What people call "a man of spirit" is exactly the opposite of being poor in spirit. A man of spirit is one who — as Cain was — is determined not to be beaten; a soul who would fight it out with God Himself. He who is "poor in spirit" is the very opposite of this. It is a person who is broken, who feels that the dust is his right place.
Some read the blessing as being about people with little money. The wording itself answers them:
This idea rests on Luke 4: "And He lifted up His eyes on His disciples, and said, Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God." There the words "in spirit" do not appear. But there is no ground in this text for such an idea… It is a question of the inner man in contrast with the outer. A man who is poor as to this world's goods may have a proud, unbending spirit, while the rich may be truly humble.
These traits describe Christ Himself before they describe anyone else:
We know from the beatitudes how He pronounces blessed those who through grace are like Him poor in spirit. In truth nearly all of these beatitudes are just a description of what Christ was, though given as a character to which blessing belongs. Poor in spirit, meek, pure in heart — who was like Him, the great Peacemaker?
Nobody arrives at this by effort or temperament:
Everyone who is born of God has by grace these characteristics. Poor in spirit is the very first characteristic. The unsaved sinner knows nothing of it. It is altogether the work of the Holy Spirit. It means to take the right place before God, which is in the dust in absolute helplessness. It is the continued attitude of a saved person on the earth — poverty in spirit and entire dependence on the Lord.
One writer separates going to heaven later from living under heaven's rule now:
This is not a question of people going to heaven by and by, but of heaven ruling them now. It is how to go on before you get to heaven.
One writer puts the exchange as a paradox:
This poverty is your riches. You may have the world's riches and yet be poor; you cannot have this poverty without being rich. Poverty of spirit entitles you to Christ's riches.
- Start — repentance produces poverty of spirit. The other seven beatitudes rest on this first one.
- Inward — not an empty purse but a low view of self: I am nothing, I have nothing, I deserve nothing.
- Opposite — the world's "man of spirit" refuses to be beaten; the poor in spirit accepts the dust as his right place.
- Given — no unsaved person has this; it is the Spirit's work, and it is a settled attitude, not a mood.
- Rich — heaven rules such a person now, and Christ's riches already belong to them.
Blessed they that mourn, for *they* shall be comforted.
The second blessing in the Sermon on the Mount puts sorrow and happiness in one sentence. We do not usually put them together. Two questions follow. What sort of mourning did the Lord mean? And when does the comfort come?
Everyone carries a private list of who counts as fortunate. One writer sets that list beside the Lord's and lets the clash stand.
Most people would say, "Blessed are the rich, who can surround themselves with every comfort. Blessed are the joyful, the high-spirited, the independent, who know nothing of hunger and thirst." But the Lord came from heaven. He knew the character that suited the kingdom of heaven. He says, "Blessed are the poor, the mourners, the meek, those who hunger and thirst." That turns the judgment of everyone upside down. It contradicts the thought every human heart holds dear. Yet what a mercy it is for all of us that happiness does not depend on our circumstances, or on how much we own, but on the state of the mind — in one word, on character.
One commentator rules out the obvious reading and names what is meant instead.
Do not read the mourning that comes next as grief over personal sin. It is grief over the results of sin, over the way things now are on the earth. That is how our Lord grieved and mourned.
That sorrow looks outward, at other people, which is what separates it from the blessing before it.
Being poor in spirit is a matter between the soul and God alone. A person could hold it perfectly with nobody at all to mourn over. But to be a "mourner" here means something else. It means being moved to the heart by the condition of those around us, above all their moral and spiritual condition.
Grief by itself is no credential. Tears can flow from a heart that has never been touched where it matters.
There is a mourning that is far from making one blessed. Many can weep over a dead child who cannot mourn over a crucified Saviour. Worldly sorrows hasten our funerals. Worldly grief produces death (2 Corinthians 7:10).
He did not describe a heart He lacked Himself. The blessing is a portrait of Him.
He was, while on earth, the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He Himself took our infirmities and bore our diseases. Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus and over Jerusalem. In that night of deepest gloom He offered up prayers and pleas, with loud cries and tears, to Him who was able to save Him from death (Hebrews 5:7). He was the great mourner and He was comforted; heard because of His reverence, and raised from the dead.
One writer turns this into a question for us.
Do we not find ourselves in a scene where everything is opposed to God? Surely! Can we then love the Lord Jesus Christ, and pass through this scene, and not be mourners? Was not He a mourner when He passed through it?
This sorrow can turn into criticism of others. Three men from the older Scriptures show the alternative.
Do we pass by without caring? Or do we set ourselves above such things and judge others in self-righteousness? … We find such mourning in the Old Testament. Nehemiah said to King Artaxerxes: "Why should not my face be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' graves, lies in ruins?" Daniel and Ezra also mourned over the unfaithfulness of God's people. … They confessed their people's sin and included themselves in their guilt. They understood that they themselves were no better and that they were part of this people. That is why God owned them and answered them.
The promise does not wait only for the future. One writer describes a grieving woman who met Jesus and found comfort on the spot.
She looked up into His face through her tears, and Jesus wept. Was she not at that moment most blessedly comforted? She had known that He loved her before, but she had never known that He loved her like that. His tears were more eloquent than words, and she found that His sympathy was greater than her sorrow.
One writer reads the promise forward, to a mourning still ahead for the Jewish people.
The believing part of the Jewish people will also go through deep mourning during the great tribulation. That comes just before Christ appears. … But the Lord Himself will comfort them too: "the LORD will again comfort Zion and again choose Jerusalem" (Zechariah 1:17).
- Reversed — The world calls the rich and carefree blessed. Christ calls the mourners blessed, because blessing rests on character, not circumstances.
- Directed — This mourning is not grief over a death, and not just regret over personal sin. It is sorrow over what sin has done to everything around us.
- Tested — Weeping proves nothing on its own; many cry at a graveside who have never mourned over a crucified Saviour.
- Shared — Christ was the great mourner, and He was comforted. His followers mourn with Him. Like Nehemiah, Daniel and Ezra, they count themselves inside the guilt they grieve.
- Answered — Comfort comes now in His sympathy, and comes in full when He appears — nothing wept in His name is forgotten.
Blessed the meek, for *they* shall inherit the earth.
Jesus has already blessed the poor in spirit and those who mourn. Now He blesses a third group: the meek. Their reward is not private comfort but the earth itself. Two questions follow: what is meekness, and how do the meek come to own the earth?
One writer defines meekness by pointing to Jesus, who called Himself meek, and to the day He said it.
"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth" (Matt. 5:5). I believe that has its full application to the godly remnant of Israel later on. But the principle is of deep value to us. What is it to be meek? It is to be like Him who said down here, "I am meek and lowly in heart." He said that in Matthew 11, on a very dark day. You could not imagine a darker day. John was doubting Him, and Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum — the towns where His greatest works had been done — were rejecting Him. What is His resource? He turns to His Father, and takes everything from Him. He falls back on His Father's love, and perfect wisdom in all His circumstances. What is it then to be meek and lowly? It is to take everything, as He took it, from the hand of God.
Meekness is easily mistaken for having no backbone. Two Old Testament men settle that: Abram, who gave up his right to land for his nephew Lot, and Moses.
Meekness contrasts with the bold boasting of man, but is far from being a sign of weakness. It was no sign of weakness in Abram when he gave up his right to Lot, as his exploits in the next chapter show. Moses was the meekest man in all the earth, but there was none so valiant as he.
One writer reads the beatitudes as lessons in order. The first shows the soul what it is before God. The second is the groaning that comes from living in this world. Meekness is the third.
The great advance in the third class seems to be this. The soul has so grown in grace that the questioning, reasoning, self-willed spirit no longer shows itself in this scene of trial. Instead the disciple meekly bows his head in submission to the Father's will, and learns from Jesus to be meek and lowly in heart. After all, in these circumstances it is a question of either self-will or submission.
The beatitudes are not a distant ideal. They describe Jesus Himself. He speaks with a faithful remnant in view — the godly few left in Israel.
In examining the beatitudes, we shall find that this portion in general gives the character of Christ Himself. They assume two things. First, the meek will come to possess the land of Israel. Second, people will persecute the faithful remnant — those truly righteous in their ways, who asserted the rights of the true King. Heaven was set before them as the hope that would sustain their hearts.
One writer explains why meekness ends in an inheritance:
Meekness, which ends in the inheritance (see Matt. 5:5), appears to be that state of soul that makes us willing to be nothing until the promised inheritance comes. The Lord Jesus (in whom was all perfection) fully expressed it. Though Lord of all, He was content to have nothing; and the kingdom is a reward of His meekness.
The promise turns the present order of ownership upside down.
In Psalm 37 the meek shall inherit the earth, and this verse is a quotation of it. The people who own the earth now are usually great conquerors. Here is the very opposite. Those whom men trample underfoot are the ones God says will inherit the earth, and at a good time. The great and blessed pattern is the One who, when He was insulted, did not insult in return. You cannot ignore the wrongdoing that is going on, but you can commit yourself to Him who judges righteously.
Commentators differ on who the promise covers. Some tie it to Israel alone:
This is promised to the godly Jews who will inherit the earth. The Church does not inherit the earth, but hers is a heavenly possession. … So this promise has nothing at all to do with the Church. It is a kingdom promise for the godly in Israel.
Others hear the Lord widening it:
Now this enlarges the promise, so that it applies beyond the borders of Jacob and Judah. The meek of all peoples will inherit the earth, when Heaven's kingdom is at last set up over the whole world.
- Source. Meekness is taking everything from the hand of God, as Jesus did on His darkest day.
- Strength. It is not weakness — Abram gave up his choice of land, Moses was the meekest and the bravest.
- Growth. It is the third lesson: self-will surrendered, the head bowed to the Father's will.
- Waiting. The meek are willing to be nothing until the inheritance comes; Christ, Lord of all, held nothing.
- Reversal. Today conquerors own the earth. One day those trampled underfoot will receive it. Commentators differ on whether that promise belongs to Israel alone or to the meek of every nation.
Blessed they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for *they* shall be filled.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Blessed the merciful, for *they* shall find mercy.
The fifth Beatitude turns from what a person is before God to what he is toward others. Commentators read it as the start of a new group of blessings. They press one question: can anyone show mercy who has never felt his own need of it?
Writers see a design in the order of the Beatitudes.
We now come to what we may call the second section of the Beatitudes. They fall into two groups, four and three — a division not uncommon in Scripture. Righteousness marks the first four: what is due to God. Grace marks the last three: the activities of grace towards others.
Mercy is not one item on a list of virtues. It is the ground on which God meets a world of sin, and its promise reaches further than pardon.
God takes His stand on nothing more than His mercy. It is the active principle of His being in a world of sin. One thing alone makes salvation possible for a single soul: there is mercy in God. He is rich in mercy. There is no limit to His mercy... It is not only a question of the forgiveness of their sins, but of mercy in everything... they shall taste afresh what the mercy of God is towards their own souls, in showing mercy towards others.
The word has a precise sense. It answers misery, and it does not stop at feeling.
Mercy is the emotion of the soul in the face of misery or distress, and the help that results from this inner emotion. Mercy is not the same as grace. Grace is undeserved favour granted to someone who has become a guilty offender.
Both words appear side by side in God's own self-description to Moses, and the difference shows in what each supplies.
He is merciful to forgive, and gracious to help in every time of need.
Only one kind of person becomes merciful: the debtor who knows the size of his own debt.
That is what God is. He delights in mercy, so Micah tells us. It is only those who realise that "nothing but mercy will do for me" who will be merciful. You get a picture of the wonderful mercy shown to Israel in the parable of the man who owed a huge debt. He was unconscious of the mercy that had been shown to him. Whatever a person does to us, they can never owe us what we owe to God. If we are conscious of that, it will make us tender towards others.
The Lord who spoke this line lived it first.
When the Lord Jesus says "Blessed are the merciful…", He means those who have experienced this mercy of God. As disciples of their Lord and Master, they now follow His example. How often we read in the Gospels that He was moved with compassion! He was full of mercy and full of heartfelt sympathy. He healed the sick, gave food to the hungry and gave back her son alive to a mourning mother. Yes, He was the true merciful Samaritan. At the end of His parable He could say to the scribe who had come to test Him, "You go, and do likewise."
You can give in a way that humiliates. That is not the Lord's way.
Do not give to the poor as you would throw a bone to a dog. See the grace with which Jesus bends over the poor man. As if He were his servant, He asks, "What do you want me to do for you?" He did not take a place of obvious superiority. He gave him to know and feel that He was dealing with him in love and grace, and drew the heart of the helpless one entirely to Himself. The way of the world is to patronise, and to be esteemed as benefactors; and many will give for the sake of this honour.
The return promised is explained as a settled rule in how God governs His people day by day.
On the cross Christ took the consequences for eternity of every believer's sins. That is an unchanging fact. But as to our conduct in this world, God's government holds to an unalterable principle: "whatever one sows, that will he also reap." Psalm 18:25-26 states another broad principle of His government: "With the merciful you show yourself merciful; with the blameless man you show yourself blameless; with the purified you show yourself pure."
Believers meet that mercy again at the point of need.
The words in Hebrews 4:16 are especially beautiful. They show that we receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need when we come to the throne of grace in prayer. The Lord Jesus is there as our "merciful and faithful high priest."
- Received — Mercy starts with mercy received. Only the person who knows that nothing but mercy will do for him becomes merciful toward others.
- Defined — Mercy meets misery with help. Grace is undeserved favour to the guilty.
- Reflected — The merciful copy their Master. He was moved with compassion, He healed and fed, and He said, "You go, and do likewise."
- Manner — How you give matters. No patronising, no bone thrown to a dog, but the Lord's own way of drawing the helpless one near.
- Returned — You reap what you sow under God's government. The merciful keep tasting mercy, at the throne of grace and in every time of need.
Blessed the pure in heart, for *they* shall see God.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Blessed the peace-makers, for *they* shall be called sons of God.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Blessed they who are persecuted on account of righteousness, for *theirs* is the kingdom of the heavens.
The list of blessings ends with one for people who are attacked for doing right. Why does living God's way cost something, and what does the Lord promise in return?
The first seven blessings describe character. This one describes what that character brings on the disciple:
This verse stands apart from the seven blessings before it. They deal with what true disciples of the Lord Jesus are like and how they behave. Here the Lord speaks about the results of their righteous behaviour. As long as He does not reign as King of righteousness, people who live by God's principles and thoughts will face persecution and suffering.
Righteousness here is a way of living, not a theory. The world admires much of it — until it costs someone:
Practical righteousness means living by the Word of God and His principles. The world values love of the truth, honesty, faithfulness and respect for other people too… But suppose an employer asked his Christian employee to hide the truth in a situation that was awkward for him. Suppose he asked him to tell a lie instead, or to help with a dishonest deal. What will happen when the employee says: "I can't do this, because it does not agree with the Word of God"? … Many a believer has lost his job because he would not share in the unrighteousness of this world.
Verse 10 and verse 11 are not saying the same thing twice. One suffering keeps the conscience clean; the other answers Christ's claim on the heart:
So the two kinds of persecution in verses 10 to 12 bring in the double character we find in the letters — suffering for righteousness' sake, and suffering for Christ's sake. These are two completely different things. Where righteousness is the question, a person is simply brought to the point. If I do not stand and suffer here, my conscience will be stained. But this is in no way suffering for Christ's sake. In short, conscience is what comes in where righteousness is the question. Suffering for Christ's sake is not a question of open sin, but of His grace and its claims on my heart.
This difference runs through the rest of Scripture too, and one is greater than the other:
If we suffer for righteousness' sake, we are happy — and we are still more blessed if we suffer for His name… The Lord Himself makes this difference between suffering for righteousness and suffering for Christ (Matthew 5:10-11), and so does Peter (1 Peter 2:20; 3:17; 4:14).
The reward here repeats the one given to the poor in spirit at the start of the list:
Here the list clearly begins over again. The first blessing was, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," and the next three were all marked by righteousness. Poverty of spirit is the first thing God works in a newly born soul… But here the point is not so much what they are, as what others make their lot. The last two blessings speak of what the world hands out to them. The first four are marked by righteousness within — the last three by grace within.
The promise is not that the pressure will lift today. The present order is temporary:
If you are poor in spirit, if you do not stand up for your rights, what do you get in this world? You get persecution. People laugh at you as a madman. Here is the difference between this world as it is now and the coming age when the King reigns: now righteousness suffers, then righteousness will reign. For now you must do good, suffer for it, and bear it patiently, because the kingdom is hidden and the King is out of sight… This suffering may come in many shapes — in your business, your family, or from your neighbour.
Many assume persecution means violence. The Lord's own wording widens it:
Let us be careful not to become persecutors ourselves. Some think there is no persecution except fire and sword. Yes, there is persecution of the tongue… You can kill a man in his good name as truly as in his body. A good name is as precious as costly ointment. To strike another person in his name is what our Saviour calls persecution.
- Character first. The first seven blessings shape who a disciple is. This one shows what that life brings while the King is still rejected.
- Righteousness defined. It is living by God's Word in daily matters — the honesty an employer praises until it costs him something.
- Conscience engaged. You suffer for righteousness when saying no is the only way to keep a clean conscience. You suffer for Christ's sake when His claims draw out your heart.
- Kingdom promised. The same reward given to the poor in spirit closes the list — the kingdom belongs to those the world pushes out.
- Order reversed. Now righteousness suffers and the kingdom is hidden. When the King reigns in the open, righteousness will reign with Him.
Blessed are ye when they may reproach and persecute you, and say every wicked thing against you, lying, for my sake.
In the verse just before, the Lord describes a kind of person. Here He turns and speaks straight to the men in front of Him. Three details carry the weight: the change of pronoun, the new reason — no longer righteousness but "on my account" — and the small word "falsely."
The previous verse speaks about a group; this one speaks to a group. Writers see the shift as deliberate warmth rather than a stylistic accident.
Notice another difference in verses 10 and 11. In Matthew 5:10 it is "Blessed are they." In Matthew 5:11 it is "Blessed are you." When real suffering for Himself is in view, He drops the abstract wording as too cold. He makes it personal: "Blessed are you." Why? Because you are linked with Him now.
The reason for the ill-treatment has moved as well. Verse 10 gives righteousness; here the reason is a Person.
It is not now for righteousness' sake, but "for My sake." There is something still more precious than righteousness, and that is Christ. And when you have Christ, you can have nothing higher. Truly blessed to be persecuted for His sake!
What provokes the hostility differs in each case.
Here the Lord does not speak of sufferings for righteousness' sake, but of abuse, persecution and evil words for His sake. This is connected with the Person of our Lord and the confession of His Name. Suffering for righteousness comes from our moral attitude and actions. Suffering for Jesus' sake comes from our confession of Him.
The blessing does not rest on being disliked. One word guards the whole verse from misuse.
Our walk in the world should have the character of white linen. Sometimes people say: it is a good thing when people speak evil against you. The Lord Jesus said, "Blessed are you when others ... utter all kinds of evil against you." Yes, He did — but with the added words, "falsely" and "on my account." If it is for Christ's sake, and false, we can bless God for it. But let us make sure it is not because the garment is stained by the flesh. That would be to our shame, and a misrepresentation of our blessed Lord. In the same line with this is 1 Peter 4:14: "If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you."
One writer reads the change from "they" to "you" as marking two different experiences. A believer cannot produce the second one, and the Lord walked that road first.
Why is it "they" in verse 10, and "you" in verse 11? The one is doing the will of God, His revealed will. The other is suffering for the sake of the Lord Jesus, and that is a gift of God. Every true saint of God suffers with Christ — not to the same extent... And in a thousand ways we suffer with Christ, but it is not everyone who suffers for Him; that is a gift: "to you it has been granted for the sake of Christ, not only to believe in him but also to suffer for his sake."
The Lord's choice of word rules out treating this as a rare hazard for a few unlucky believers.
By using the word "when" the Lord shows He is not hinting at something that may happen. He is pointing to a fact we should expect. Those who take the side of our Lord and Saviour, confessing Him openly and bravely, will reap contempt, mockery and scorn... Some meet such a confession with a pitying smile. But as soon as the believer shows he is a Christian by his conduct as well, rejection and hatred follow.
If suffering on His account follows confession, it has a starting point — and a familiar set of voices that head it off.
Suffering for Christ's sake is the result of speaking about Him to others. It is not merely a firm no when someone asks or tempts us to do wrong. It is an earnest heart that watches for every chance to speak about the blessed Lord and salvation... There are always plenty of worldly-wise Christians near us who check our zeal and hinder faithfulness — all under the fair name of prudence.
- Confession — good behaviour is not the trigger. Suffering for righteousness follows how we live; suffering on His account follows whom we name.
- Personal — Christ Himself is now the cause, so He drops "they" for "you"; the sufferer is linked with Him.
- Gift — every believer suffers with Christ; suffering for Him is a gift God grants.
- Certain — He says "when," not "if"; contempt is the expected return for taking His side.
- Falsely — the blessing rests only on false charges borne for His sake, never on reproach we have earned.
Rejoice and exult, for your reward is great in the heavens; for thus have they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Jesus ends this list of blessings by speaking straight to His disciples: when people insult them for His sake, they are to be glad. His reason looks two ways — up to a reward in heaven, and back to the prophets who suffered before them.
Earlier blessings describe a kind of person. Here the Lord turns and speaks to His own:
The last of the two rises to the highest. It leaves the abstract for direct personal words of love: "Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you… on My account." This was suffering for grace in full. "Rejoice," says the Lord therefore, "and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven; for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you."
The command is not to grit your teeth until trouble passes. The suffering itself gives the joy its reason:
The disciples of the Lord should rejoice not despite the sufferings connected with their confession, but because of them. Confessing the Name of the Lord may bring disadvantages here on earth — which is not always the case. Even so, the reward He has promised in the heavens is far greater! To know that we walk in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus already gives us joy. The promised reward adds to that joy, and that reward belongs to heaven, not to earth.
Earlier in the same list, the meek inherit the earth. Here the reward lies somewhere else:
Then at verse 11 He turned and spoke straight to His disciples. He told them in advance of a persecution they might meet for another cause… Earth now dropped out of view for them. Heaven alone lay before them. "The meek shall inherit the earth," however little that might seem likely then or now. But Christians are called out for heaven. What a change this revelation must have made in the hopes of the Jews! They waited, and still wait, for Messiah to appear in person and in power, to cut off their enemies and give them their land in peace, for good.
Commentators differ on who receives this reward first. One writer applies it to those who lose an earthly portion by dying for their faith:
Deprived of an earthly inheritance, they will enter into a heavenly one. Revelation 20:4-6 shows them as a special company of martyrs, added to the saints of the first resurrection.
If the reward is great, can anyone earn it? One writer answers plainly:
A Christian may lose his life, but not his reward; he may lose his head, but not his crown. Not that we can merit this reward by our sufferings. "I will give you the crown of life." The reward is the legacy which free grace bequeaths. What proportion is there between a drop of blood and a weight of glory? But though we have no reward by merit, we shall have it by grace. … A man who has to wade through deep water keeps his eyes on the firm land ahead. Christians wading through the deep waters of persecution should fix the eyes of their faith on the land of promise. Those who bear the cross patiently shall wear the crown triumphantly.
The verse ends by pointing back to the prophets. One writer hears comfort in that:
When you learn what pleases the Lord, and pleasing Him means doing what would displease everyone else, what does He say? "Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven." It is heaven now, not the kingdom of heaven. And here is a lovely little word of gracious encouragement to the soul: "For so they persecuted the prophets who were before you." That is, you have got into good company; do not mind.
This verse has a daily use. It settles when you expect justice.
Too often we are fretful and impatient in the face of wrongs, and we want them put right in this day instead of waiting for "that day". Suppose the glory of that day shines before us in the faith of our souls. Then we shall not be tempted to rebel at the insults and wrongs that may be allowed. We shall "rejoice and be glad", for, says the Lord, "your reward is great in heaven".
- Personal. The Lord drops the general "they" and speaks straight to His own, in "direct personal words of love."
- Because, not despite. Believers rejoice because of the suffering their confession brings — not just while they endure it.
- Heavenward. Earth drops out of view; the reward waits in heaven, not in the land or an earthly kingdom.
- Grace, not wages. A Christian "may lose his head, but not his crown" — the reward is free grace's legacy, never payment for pain.
- Good company. Insulted for His sake, you stand where the prophets stood. So leave today's wrongs for "that day".
*Ye* are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have become insipid, wherewith shall it be salted? It is no longer fit for anything but to be cast out and to be trodden under foot by men.
The Lord has just described the character and the blessings of those who belong to His kingdom. Now He turns from what they are inside to what they are in the world around them. Calling them salt raises two questions. What does salt do? And what happens to people who carry the name without the reality?
Salt is not a sweetener. One writer describes what salt does — it guards, and it holds firm what is good:
Salt is what preserves in righteousness. It is sharp rather than sweet, but it guards from impurity and decay. It holds steady what is good and wholesome. It tests all things, and holds fast the right. It keeps away from every form of wickedness. So when the disciples are called the salt of the earth, the Lord marks them out as set apart to God the Father.
God gave an instruction about the offerings brought to Him. Salt was never to be missing:
In ancient times salt was the main way to season food and keep it from going bad. Salt is sharp and bitter, but it keeps what is good and prevents decay. In the Old Testament, the "salt of the covenant" had, by God's order, to be added to all sacrifices (Lev. 2:13). So salt is a clear symbol of the sanctifying, keeping power of God which should show in us. We are not sugar or honey, but the salt of the earth.
One writer draws a line between "the earth" here and "the world" in the next verse:
The salt of the earth is a different thing from the light of the world. As I see it, the earth means what already claimed to have received light from God. Because of that light it stood in a relationship with Him, and had taken a definite shape before Him. The disciples of Christ were the preservative principle in the earth. They were the light of the world, and the world did not have that light.
Kelly brings the same word into the present, to Christendom — the lands where the Christian faith has long been known. He points out where the danger lies, because the light was once there:
The salt of the earth is how the disciples stand toward what already had God's testimony... If you speak about the earth now, it is Christendom — the place that has the light of God's truth, either truly or only in name... And this is the place where the greatest falling away from God will come. Such evil is only possible where people have had the light and then left it.
Commentators differ on who exactly is in view. Some say the verse speaks of a faithful group inside Israel, not of Christians: "here it is not the Christian, not a believer of this present age, who is in view; it is the faithful few left in Israel" (The Bible Treasury). Others apply it to believers today.
The two pictures are not repeats of each other. Kelly sets them against the religious teachers of that day, the scribes and Pharisees:
For the disciples, this position goes beyond "the salt of the earth." That stood for righteousness — not the outward kind shown by the scribes and Pharisees, but lowly and real in God's sight. "The light of the world," on the other hand, is grace shining out, and it cannot be separated from confessing Christ. Salt preserves, but it does not make everything visible the way light does.
Where the salt fails, nothing else can supply what is missing:
But He adds words — most serious words — "if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored?"... By this question He showed that the true and holy taste, once lost, could never be repaired. Grace may still work in people here and there, but the pure position cannot be brought back. Salt is simply salt. Nothing outside can give the saltiness that disappears.
The verse does not settle every question people bring to it. Kelly warns against forcing an outside debate into these words:
He is not now speaking of the question whether a saint can fall away or not. People go to Scripture with their own questions, and twist the word of God to fit their earlier thoughts... He is speaking of people who hold a certain position. Some may hold it carelessly, or even falsely. Then everything they once had fades away.
Salt without taste ends in public contempt. That warning reaches beyond one person:
Salt is a picture of the influence going out from the testimony to the holiness of God. Anyone whose testimony does not have this power is useless. For this reason the nations will trample Jerusalem, the city that rejected its own King (Luke 21:24). Christendom has had the good news of grace and salvation in Christ for centuries. It too will fall away from God and come under His judgment.
- Salt preserves. It is sharp, not sweet — it guards from decay and holds fast what is right.
- Covenant salt. God required salt in every offering, marking His keeping, sanctifying power that should now show in His people.
- Earth, not world. Salt works where God's testimony is already known; light shines out where it is not.
- Taste lost. Nothing outside salt can give back the one quality that makes it salt.
- Trampled. Where the taste is gone, people throw out the empty claim of faith and trample it — the fate warned of for Jerusalem and Christendom alike.
*Ye* are the light of the world a city situated on the top of a mountain cannot be hid.
The Lord has just called His followers salt; now He tells them what they are to the wider world. The picture He uses is a hilltop city — no one can miss it. The commentators press two questions. Where does this light come from? And what happens when those who carry it try to stay out of sight?
The two images point in different directions. One writer separates them, and notes that the disciples never chose to be this light:
The salt of the earth is a different thing from the light of the world. The earth, I think, means the sphere that already claimed to have received light from God. That light put it in relationship with Him, and gave it a definite shape before Him. The disciples of Christ were the preservative principle in the earth. They were the light of the world, and the world had no light of its own. This was their position, whether they liked it or not. It was God's purpose that they should be the light of the world. No one lights a candle to hide it.
The change of figure marks a change of direction. Salt keeps something from going bad; light travels:
But now, in verse 14, we have not only the principle of righteousness, but of grace — grace flowing out in strength. Here He gives the disciples a new title for their public testimony — "the light of the world." Light spreads. The salt is what ought to be inward, but the light is what scatters itself abroad. "A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." Its testimony was to spread all around.
Jesus also called Himself the light of the world. So the same title on His disciples must mean something different. One writer explains the difference with the moon:
Our Lord says, "As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world" (John 9:5). But in view of His absence His saints are called by Him the "light of the world" (Matt. 5:14; Phil. 2:15). Saints are light in the Lord (Eph. 5:8). They are here to show the moral characteristics of Christ to people who are in darkness. And the whole source and power of their light rests in the Lord of heaven. The world cannot see Him, but He shows Himself to His own by faith and in the Spirit. The moon shines at night because it stands in the light of the sun. In the same way, saints shine while Christ is away, because they stand in the light of the risen Son of God.
Anyone living in Israel would have seen the picture at once:
"A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." An enemy planning an attack could see it. So could a traveller looking for a place to stay. By day its white walls and buildings shone bright. By night the lights of the houses gave it away. So the walk of the Lord's disciples ought to be a light in this world, seen by everyone.
Some have argued that the true company of believers is invisible. One writer answers that:
But I read in Scripture, "You are the light of the world." What use is an invisible light? "A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." To call the true church invisible settles the question at once. It admits that the church has lost its original and essential standing. It admits that the church has left God's purpose and the order He gave it. God did not light a candle to put it under a basket. He lit it to set it on a lampstand and give light to everyone in the house. If it has become invisible, it no longer serves the purpose God formed it for.
Commentators differ over whom the Lord is addressing here. Some hold that these words describe a faithful Jewish remnant who will bear witness after the church is taken away, saying that "as Matthew 5:13-14 shows, these godly Jews will be the salt of 'the earth' and the 'light of the world'" (H J Vine). Others press the passage directly on believers today:
Fellow believer, I urge you not to skim over or dodge the position the Lord gives you here on earth. These are His words: … "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." Let us live this out, instead of letting it slip past or pushing it off onto a Jewish remnant.
The lamp under the basket warns that something of our own can cover the light:
No one should put a lamp under a basket — that is, hide it behind what stands for man's own work. Let us not allow our work to get in the way of the light of Christ, who is the only source of light for people in darkness. The lamp set in its proper place will give light to all who are near it.
- Given, not earned — being the light is a position the Lord assigns, held "whether they liked it or not," not a status anyone works up to.
- Borrowed, not owned — the light is Christ's; His people shine as the moon shines, only because they stand in the light of the risen Son of God.
- Outward, not inward — unlike salt, which preserves quietly, light "scatters itself abroad" to a world that has none of its own.
- Visible, not hidden — enemy and traveller alike see a hilltop city. A light no one can see has stopped doing the job it was lit for.
- Clear, not covered — our own work in front of the lamp is what dims it. Keep the stand clear so people see Christ.
Nor do [men] light a lamp and put it under the bushel, but upon the lamp-stand, and it shines for all who are in the house.
This verse draws its picture from an ordinary home: a lamp, a measuring basket, a stand. Jesus is not teaching lamp-care. He is telling His followers what their light is for, and warning that people can cover it.
Small oil lamps gave a weak flame, so where you put one mattered.
The small oil-lamps of ancient times gave only poor light. Thousands of them have been found in the rubble at excavation sites. That is why people put them, singly or in groups, on a lamp-stand. The stand either hung from the ceiling, was fixed to the wall, or stood on the floor. In this way the light spread as widely as possible.
Covering the lamp does two things at once.
How absurd it would have been to put such a light under a bushel, that is, to hide it! A bushel was a container of about 2 gallons, used to measure grain. If you put it over a lamp, it would hide the small flame and make it useless. In the long run it would also smother the flame.
One writer turns this everyday common sense against Christendom — the whole world of people who bear Christ's name.
People deal more honestly with their own lamps than Christendom deals with the light our Lord spoke about. People shrink from natural darkness, from its inconveniences and its dangers. When they light a lamp, they do not put it under the grain measure, which would of course hide it completely. They put it on the lampstand, and it shines to all who are in the house. But Christendom fears the light. That light exposes how it neglects Scripture, and the Holy Spirit's guidance, and Christ, who is and ought to be everything. … Our Lord means the light to shine to all who are in the house, and beyond too.
In practice, what plays the part of the basket?
A bushel is connected with the business of this world, and how many a light the business of this world hides!
Another writer makes it personal.
Think of tidying up the garden, testing the new motor-cycle, studying for exams, early and late hours at work, a game of tennis, minding the baby, and many other occupations. They are good and proper in themselves. Ask whether you are using them, perhaps without meaning to, to cover up your lamp. There is no transparency in a bushel-basket. And where there might have been a bright light, the corn-measure has brought about darkness.
The light is not private property. It shows in a life, and it is spoken with the lips.
What testimony to Christ can there be, if the life gives no evidence? And what evidence is there in a life whose lips are silent about Christ? … Let us remember, then, the responsibility we have of confessing Him boldly. It is not even right to hide from people in need what He has done for them. No: the lamp is not for the bushel — it is for the lampstand. It is not for ourselves that we are made light: the world has a right to it, and can produce that right under the broad seal of Christ's commission.
A lamp does not make its own fire.
While the Lord was here He was the Light of the world, as He Himself says (John 9:5). Now we are called, as Christians, to shine as heavenly lights that hold out the word of life. Our light is reflected light. Ephesians 5 tells us where our light comes from: "at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light." … If Christ does not shine upon us, we can give no light.
The same test applies to the whole company of believers, not just to one person.
Believers have tried to shelter behind the distinction between a visible church and an invisible one. But I read in Scripture, "You are the light of the world." What use is an invisible light? "A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." … God did not light a candle to put it under a bushel. He lit it to put it on a lampstand, to give light to those in the house. If it has become invisible, it has stopped answering the purpose for which it was formed.
- Lit. God lights the lamp. The flame is borrowed, not our own: if Christ does not shine on us, we have no light to give.
- Placed. A lamp goes high on a stand because its flame is small. Position, not brightness, is what makes it useful.
- Covered. The basket is the everyday business of life. Good and lawful things, misused, hide the flame and in time smother it.
- Owed. The light is not for ourselves. Those in the house have a right to it, so hiding what Christ has done is a failure toward people in need.
- Seen. A light no one can see has stopped doing the one thing it exists to do — true of a single believer and of the whole company.
Let your light thus shine before men, so that they may see your upright works, and glorify your Father who is in the heavens.
The Lord has just called His disciples salt and light, and now He tells them what to do with it. He does not tell them to display good deeds, but to let the light shine — and the aim is the Father's glory, not their own reputation.
The verse names light first, and works only after that. That order separates a Christian testimony from ordinary good causes.
Here, the good works are the fruit of the working of divine light in the soul. If we let our light shine, good works will also be connected with it. But they are not the focus of our attention here. In this world many people and groups do good works. For example, the Red Cross and other aid organisations have done much good for people in need. If we as children of God set out to do such good works, that alone does not make us a testimony to our Lord. He wants us to be a testimony to Him. Therefore He does not urge us here to do good works, but to let our light shine. We should not think of "our" works, but of Him. Good works will then be the result.
If disciples must shine, where does the light come from? It does not start in them.
But what light is it that is to shine? It can only be the reflection of Him who is the Light. "He does not say let your good works shine, but let your light shine. That is, let Christ shine in your life. The point is not that you should see your good works, but that others should see them — and not to your glory, but to the glory of your Father."
One writer looks at the word translated "good" and finds it means something other than kindness to the poor.
Notice too that the light must shine in practical things, not only in teaching. People do not see it in our clear or fresh teaching put into words. They see it in our acts and works. They should hear our good words, but they must see our good works, if we are to be light to them. The word for "good" here does not mean kind or generous; it means upright or honest. Such actions find their source in the Father in heaven: they shed His light and glorify Him.
A person can give away everything and still miss the aim of this verse. The verse ends with the Father getting the glory.
I might give away all my goods in what people call charity. I might even hand over my body to the fire. Yet I could do both without confessing Christ, and so without glorifying the Father at all. There is no light and no love without faith in Christ and the confession of Christ. That way a person honours self, not the Father. But let the light of Christ shine in your confession. Then people see right works that agree with the will of God. They glorify not you, but the Father, who is both the source and the aim of what you do.
The shining is not a special activity added to daily work. It is daily work done by someone whose identity is unmistakable.
Then you must have your lights burning. I do whatever God tells me to do, and it is a testimony to Christ; people say, that is what comes from a man being a Christian! It is that there may be no uncertainty as to what we are... I may be a carpenter or a shoemaker, but I must be a Christian. In every relationship — as servant or master, in eating or drinking, in our houses, wherever it is — I must be a Christian.
A reader may wonder whether Matthew 6 cancels this command. One writer answers that the two passages aim at opposite results.
What Matthew 6 says here is not contradicted by the earlier words of the Lord Jesus in Matthew 5:16. There He was speaking to His disciples who ought to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. If people saw their good works, they would give the glory to God, not to men. In our paragraph in Matthew 6 the result is just the reverse.
The verse names the Father. Being His child brings a job that goes with the family name.
Now, before God can sanctify His name through Israel's restoration (Ezekiel 36:20, 23), the Lord taught His disciples about the opportunity and the service given to them. By their good works they were to lead the people around them to glorify their Father who is in the heavens. As His people, Israel ought to have shown the nations what it was that was well-pleasing to God. As His children, the disciples should show the moral character of their Father.
- Light first. The instruction is not to produce good works but to let the light shine; good works follow as its fruit.
- Borrowed light. The light is a reflection of Christ, so shining means letting Him show in your life — not your glory, but your Father's.
- Upright. The word for "good" here means honest and upright. People see it in acts, not just hear it in teaching.
- Everywhere. Carpenter or shoemaker, at home, at work, eating or drinking — in every place you belong plainly to Christ.
- The verdict. When the light shines, onlookers do not say "what a good person" — they glorify the Father in heaven.
Think not that I am come to make void the law or the prophets; I am not come to make void, but to fulfil.
The Sermon on the Mount had just described a blessedness unlike anything Israel expected. That raised an obvious question. If Jesus brings in something new, what happens to Moses and the prophets? His answer settles both the authority of the older Scriptures and the meaning of His own coming.
The verses before this describe a new kind of blessedness. That raised a worry for anyone taught to honour the law:
Here was a new kind of blessedness, quite foreign to the thoughts of Israel as a natural people. So how did the law relate to Christ's teaching and to the new state of things about to come in? Did not the law come from God through Moses?… Weaken the authority of the law, and it is clear that you destroy the foundation on which the gospel rests; for the law was of God as certainly as the gospel.
Commentators press for something wider than "keep":
To "fulfil" does not mean obeying at all. It simply means giving the fulness. The Lord, like the gospel, fully confirms the law as coming from God.
One writer draws it as a portrait matched at last by its living original:
The law was like a beautiful portrait, the portrait of a perfect man… When Jesus came every feature of it found living expression in Him. He was the original. He filled out its every smallest detail, brought out all its beauty and made it alive.
He names two things, and together they stand for the whole Old Testament:
"The law and the prophets" was the recognized phrase for the whole Old Testament. They belonged to a period already past, but they had not passed away with it… Christ did not come to destroy the law and the prophets. He came to fulfil, or rather complete — fill them out. What would the Old Testament be without the New? Very much like a finger, pointing into empty space!
By fulfilling them, He also vouches for them:
Read the Gospels with a simple heart, and you will find the whole life and teaching of Jesus woven through with the truth of the law and the prophets as we have them in our ordinary Bibles. To remove their authority, you would have to tear away all the revelation of Christ in them… He was born in Bethlehem, because by God's will the prophet had said so.
He is not defending the law as an outsider. He speaks about it as its Author:
We now see our Lord speaking as the One who is greater than Moses. Sitting on the mountain, He speaks with greater authority than Moses or anyone before Him, because He has greater authority. The One who speaks about the law and the prophets, confirming and expanding them, is the One who gave the law to Moses. His fingers wrote on the tablets of stone. His Spirit revealed the visions to the prophets.
What follows presses the law into the heart. That honours the law and leaves every hearer exposed:
He then presses the law home in its deepest spiritual meaning. He searches down into the hearts of the scribes and Pharisees and shows their guilt. He magnifies the law, but in doing so, proves all to be under sin. Then, in infinite love, He goes to the cross and bears the penalty of a broken law for all who believe on Him.
Some quote this verse to prove believers must live under the law of Moses. Commentators reply that fulfilment argues the opposite:
Now what Christ's fulfilling the law has to do with putting me under it I never could understand. I should have thought the opposite was true: if it is fulfilled, that is the end of the matter. He fulfilled the sacrifices in the same way, and all the more since He speaks of the prophets as well. The word "fulfil" is used of both, and that gives it a force quite different from what people try to make of it.
What He gives is not a lower standard but a deeper one, spoken on His own authority:
Our Lord is going to expand the great moral principles of the law into commandments that come from Himself, not just from Moses… He recognized the full value of the ten commandments. But He was about to open out the mind of God in a way far deeper than anyone had thought before.
- Fill, not kill — "Fulfil" does not mean obeying. It means giving the fulness, completing what the older Scriptures had only begun.
- Filled in Him — Every feature of the law found living expression in Christ. He was the original the portrait pictured.
- Filled out to the whole Book — "The law and the prophets" means the whole Old Testament. Without fulfilment it would be a finger pointing into empty space.
- Filled to the cross — He presses the law into the heart and proves all to be under sin. Then He bears the penalty of the broken law for those who believe.
- Filled, therefore finished — Since He fulfilled the law, this verse cannot put the believer back under it. His own words are now the deeper standard.
For verily I say unto you, Until the heaven and the earth pass away, one iota or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law till all come to pass.
In the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord promises that His new teaching does not cancel the Old Testament. Two questions follow. What does it mean that the smallest stroke of writing is safe? And does that leave the Christian under the law of Moses?
(Older translations read "jot and tittle" and "till all be fulfilled" where the ESV has "not an iota, not a dot" and "until all is accomplished.")
The verse opens with "for," giving the reason behind verse 17. One writer says "fulfil" means more than a life of law-keeping:
There is no doubt that the Lord obeyed the law. But that is not what fulfilling means. He gave the law and the prophets their full scope. He did even more, for He revealed God in Himself by His words and His ways, and He made known those secrets of the kingdom that were entirely hidden in earlier days... But nothing in the new could weaken the authority of God in the old.
The two words at the heart of the verse are marks of handwriting, not points of doctrine:
The "jot and tittle" were the smallest marks in the Hebrew alphabet. The jot, or yodh, matches our "i" — a very small letter in Hebrew. The tittle was not a letter at all, but a small mark that told one letter apart from another. So we might put it this way: "not a dot to an 'i,' or a cross to a 't.'"
The promise reaches that far down: "inspiration is here claimed for even a single letter and even a part of a letter" (A. J. Pollock).
Many read the last clause as "until people have obeyed it all." One writer finds a different Greek word here than in verse 17:
Our version translates this as "be fulfilled," but it is a different word from the one just used. Such coming to pass could not mean the keeping of commandments. No one would speak of the ten commandments as something that had to come to pass. This coming to pass has to do with the law in its wider sense, which one would say must include the prophets as well.
"Until" implies a date. One writer places the full keeping of the law in the coming reign of Christ, not in Israel's past:
Nothing of the law will pass away until it is fulfilled in the millennium, in a way Israel's history has never yet seen. The words "till all be fulfilled" point ahead to the glorious reign of Christ as King. Then every Old Testament prophecy will come true, and every word of the law will be kept.
The Lord measures His word against heaven and earth, and His word outlasts them. One writer draws both comfort and a warning from that:
This is very sweet to us. What a priceless treasure we have in the word God has given us! It is steadier than heaven or earth, more solid, more lasting. That is what we have to build on for eternity! So how careful we should be never to corrupt God's word! The Pharisees cancelled it and set it aside by their traditions.
People often use this verse to argue that believers must still keep the law of Moses. One writer answers that a lasting law is not a ruling law:
No; the law stands in all its details. So it stands within all the limits it sets for itself, and for all the purposes it was given for, and for no others. This is simple enough to understand. Yet people who use words like these to lay the yoke of the law on the necks of Christians do not understand it.
Another writer says those who press this verse "only take what is convenient and ignore the rest." For the believer, he adds, "the law the law has been fulfilled in Christ" (A. J. Pollock).
If not one stroke can be dropped, then sin cannot be waved away. It has to be dealt with:
Nothing upheld the majesty of the law like the death of Christ. He kept it in full at every step of His life. He made it great and honoured it. Yet He bore the law's curse for those who had broken it... The law demanded what man could never give, and cursed him for not giving it. Grace first blesses a man, and then makes him able to do far more than the law demanded.
- Not one letter — the promise reaches the smallest letter and the mark that tells two letters apart. God's word is safe down to a dot.
- Not cancelled — Christ gave the law and the prophets their full scope, and nothing new He brought weakened the authority of the old.
- Not yet finished — "until all is accomplished" points ahead. Writers tie the full keeping of the law to the coming reign of Christ.
- Not a yoke — the law stands for the purposes it was given for and no others, so lasting does not mean ruling over the believer.
- Not ignored — Christ honoured every letter at the cross. He kept the law in full, then bore its curse for those who broke it.
Whosoever then shall do away with one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of the heavens; but whosoever shall practise and teach [them], *he* shall be called great in the kingdom of the heavens.
Jesus has just said that not one stroke of the law will pass away. Now He turns from His own work to what His hearers must do: keep and teach even the smallest commands. That raises two questions. Which commandments are the "least"? And what does He mean by least and great in the kingdom of heaven?
Jesus speaks to people still living under the law of Moses — before the cross, and before anyone preached the gospel.
So in verse 19 He still speaks to them as the godly remnant — those who heard His voice and clung to Him. They were born of God, but under law, and still on this side of the cross and the blessings it brings to faith. He insists on obedience, first and last. Here He begins with the law. But even in this chapter He goes on to what He is saying to them, which people of earlier times never heard.
Older versions read "break." The word means to loosen a command's hold — to weaken its authority. Read this way, the verse is one of the strongest claims anywhere that the law came from God.
According to our Lord's teaching, the Law is so entirely divine that "it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away, than for one dot of the Law to become void" (Luke 16:16-17). So no one is to violate it: "Whoever relaxes [the Greek word is luo — to loosen, to weaken the authority of] one of the least of these commandments ... will be called least in the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 5:19). To assert the divine authority of the Law more strongly is impossible.
The teachers of Jesus' day sorted the commands into grades of importance. Jesus also draws a distinction. What He attacked was their choice of which commands to rank low.
The scribes counted 613 commandments in the Old Testament in all. They divided them into laws they thought were important and laws they thought were less important. The Lord also points out a difference when He calls the command to love God the great and first commandment. Yet He at once puts the command to love your neighbour on the same level (Matt. 22:36-40). In Matthew 23:23 He accuses the scribes and Pharisees of leaving aside the more important matters of the law — judgment and mercy and faith. Meanwhile they put great emphasis on applying the law of tithes to little things like garden herbs.
Commentators differ over which commandments are meant. Some take them as the law of Sinai; others notice that verse 19 drops the word "law" and says "these commandments."
It is also possible that the Lord, when speaking here about "commandments," was not thinking of the law of Sinai. He may have meant His own new commandments, which He was just about to announce in the "sermon on the mount"... They might still have seemed "least" to His audience. Yet they were the guidelines for how the disciples of Christ should behave in the kingdom of the heavens.
The verse joins doing and teaching. That pairing points straight at the religious leaders.
The end of verse 19 again shows the contrast with the scribes and Pharisees. The Lord later says of them: "So do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practise" (Matt. 23:3). In Matthew 5:19 He links His promise to the agreement between actions and doctrine.
One writer takes "least in the kingdom" as a description of people whose place there is outward only.
The law was still valid then. So He says to the Jews here that anyone who thinks he can do away with any of it would be called the least in His kingdom. Comparing the two Scriptures we see that He speaks of people who only claim a place in the kingdom of the heavens outwardly. They have not really "entered in" (v. 20). When He appears in glory He will remove them from His kingdom in judgment (Matt. 13:41).
Taking the law this seriously does something to the person who tries.
This very attitude — doing and teaching the commandments — would of course lead a person to recognize his own need of the saving grace of the Lord Jesus. He would realize that he comes short when measured by the rule of law.
This verse is sometimes set against the teaching that believers are not under law. One writer answers that the two do not clash.
Teaching that we are not under law, and teaching men to break the commandments, are not the same thing. On the other hand, I can teach the commandments as part of the revealed mind of God. At the same time I can hold that I am not under the law.
- Authority. To "relax" a command is to loosen its grip on people — and no one may loosen what God has spoken.
- Smallness. The scribes put tithing herbs above justice and mercy. Jesus lets no one label any word of God unimportant.
- Agreement. Jesus ties the promise to doing and teaching. The leaders of His day preached without practising.
- Ranking. Least and great are places in the kingdom. Being "least" may expose someone who never entered it at all.
- Direction. Measured by this rule, everyone comes short, and that discovery is what sends a person to the grace of Christ.
For I say unto you, that unless your righteousness surpass [that] of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of the heavens.
Jesus has just said He came to fulfil the law. Now He sets a bar that would have stunned His hearers. The most respected religious men in the nation did not have enough righteousness to get in. Two questions follow. What righteousness does He mean, and how could anyone ever have it?
These were not careless men. They were the recognised experts, and no one in Israel knew a higher standard.
Since the Babylonian captivity the Talmud has added a large collection of interpretations and rules on top of the law. The New Testament calls these "the tradition of the elders." The scribes knew the law and these human rules best, and the Pharisees kept them most strictly. In Matthew 23 the Lord Jesus pronounces a sevenfold "woe" over these men and their behaviour. It was marked by self-centredness and a concern for outward appearance. They might look devout and righteous to people, but before God their attitude could not stand.
Their fault was not carelessness with Scripture but the way they placed human tradition alongside it.
As undoing the word justly sunk one to be "least" in the kingdom, faithfulness to it raised to a great place there. Clearly then the righteousness of those who entered must exceed and excel that of the Pharisee (v. 20), who honoured tradition, the word of man, and so necessarily belittled God's word.
The disciples looked up to this religion. Jesus says it will not survive God's inspection.
They looked up with ignorant eyes to the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees. Our Lord declares that this righteousness will not do. It goes up to the temple every day. It prides itself on long prayers, large gifts to the poor, and broad phylacteries. It will not stand in the sight of God. There must be something far deeper and more in keeping with the holy, loving nature of God. For with all that show of outward religion, there might still be no sense of sin and no sense of the grace of God — and usually there was none.
(Phylacteries were small boxes of Scripture worn on the body. The Pharisees made theirs wide so people would notice.)
The answer is not a longer list of duties but reality on the inside. The rest of the chapter shows what that looks like.
The Scribes and Pharisees were especially ritualist and external. This was letter, not spirit. Our Lord condemns a righteousness of mere outward acts. He insists on inward reality as essential for the kingdom of the heavens... As the Pharisees fatally narrowed the scope of Scripture, the Lord gave its fulness as none but He could. The first of these references is to the law of murder. But the Lord goes immeasurably farther for the kingdom.
Commentators differ on which righteousness the word "your" points to. Some read it as the righteousness lived out by those who already believe:
He does not mean the righteousness of God which He credits to those who believe on Him. The Lord Jesus, in the "sermon on the mount," does not preach the gospel to the lost, but speaks to His disciples. So "your righteousness" means practical righteousness. It shows in the lives of people He has justified through faith in Him, who follow Him by doing God's will.
Others read it as pointing the hearer straight to faith:
The righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees was mere self-righteousness, an attempted cover-up of their true character. We must have a righteousness that exceeds this. This is not explained for us here, but Romans 4:5 makes this far more clear.
Both readings agree on one thing. The verse gives the requirement but never says where to get it.
There is a great secret that does not come out in this sermon. First of all, there is a load of unrighteousness on the sinner. How is that to be dealt with, and the sinner made fit for the kingdom of heaven and brought into it? Through faith he is born again. He receives a new nature, a life that flows from the grace of God just as truly as Christ's bearing of his sins on the cross. There is the foundation of practical righteousness. The true beginning of all moral goodness in a sinner is the sense and confession that he has none — that he is bad. Nothing is ever right with God in a man until he gives himself up as all wrong.
The verse ends with the question of who actually gets in.
The question was raised: who is going to get into the kingdom? The answer is, "Unless your righteousness…" That is the character which suits the kingdom — not the Pharisees with their legal righteousness... We are born again, and so we see and enter the kingdom.
- Standard. The scribes and Pharisees kept the law and the tradition of the elders strictly. They looked righteous to people, but their attitude could not stand before God.
- Deeper. Jesus condemns religion of outward acts and asks for inward reality. He goes far beyond the letter of commands like the law of murder.
- Debated. Commentators differ. Some take "your righteousness" as the daily righteousness of those already justified. Others say it points the hearer to righteousness received by faith.
- Source. The sermon gives the requirement, not the remedy. New birth through faith gives a new nature — the foundation of practical righteousness.
- Entrance. The verse describes the character that suits the kingdom — and the first step into it is confessing you have none of it.
Ye have heard that it was said to the ancients, Thou shalt not kill; but whosoever shall kill shall be subject to the judgment.
Here Jesus quotes the law of Moses back to the crowd. Then He says something no teacher before Him had dared to say. Two questions follow. What exactly had the crowd "heard," and by what right does He add to it?
The crowd knew a longer sentence than the commandment God gave. One writer separates the two parts and shows what "judgment" meant:
The Lord Jesus begins the first of the six examples with the words, "You have heard that it was said to those of old." Those "of old" are not only the people of Moses' own day, because the words that follow add something to the original commandment. The crowd listening to the Lord Jesus had heard two things. First, God gave the commandment, "You shall not murder." Second, the scribes had probably added the rest of what they knew, "and whoever murders will be liable to judgment," some time after the exile in Babylon. "Judgment" here seems to mean the judges and officers named, for example, in Deuteronomy 16:18. Israel was to appoint them in every town.
The wording is deliberate. Jesus is not correcting God's commandment. He is correcting the teaching the scribes wrapped around it:
He does not once say: "It is written," not even when He quotes a commandment of the Old Testament such as in verses 27 and 38. With His sixfold reply, "But I say to you," the Lord Jesus did not want to set aside the inspired commandments of God. He meant to expose and judge the false interpretations and distortions of the scribes, and "the tradition of the elders" (Mark 7:3), which they valued so highly.
He begins with a commandment He Himself once wrote on stone. Notice how far its reach went, and where it stopped:
He takes some of the commandments which He wrote on the second table of stone. He begins with this one: "You shall not murder." Murder was the first terrible fruit after the fall, and it sprang from envy in the heart. The penalty of murder is the judgment. This, then, is the letter of the law. It dealt with the outward deed, but the heart itself it did not touch.
There is an order in the commandments Jesus picks up. Violence comes first, corruption after it:
Now He takes up the law in its various parts, at least what has to do with men. Here He does not deal with what touches God directly. He first takes up what flows from human violence, and after that the glaring example of human corruption. Violence and corruption are the two outstanding forms of human wickedness. Even before the flood this was the condition of men: "The earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was filled with violence." Here, in verse 21, the light of the kingdom falls on the command against murder. The law took notice of this extreme form of violence. But our Lord gives it length, breadth, height, and depth.
The reply that follows this verse forces a decision about who the speaker is:
Eight times in this chapter He says, "I say to you." Six of those times the word "But" comes first, setting His statement against what the law had said. We may well ask: who is this who quotes the holy law of God, and then calmly says, "But I say to you"? He alters and enlarges the law — a thing no prophet had ever dared to do! Is this not terrible presumption, close to blasphemy? Yes, indeed, and only one explanation lifts this charge from Him. But that one explanation is true: here we have the original Lawgiver, who once spoke from Sinai.
Measured this way, the careful outward record of the religious expert is worth nothing:
As to the two commandments He quoted, His teaching is plain. God looks not only at the outward act but also at the inward attitude of the heart. He forbids not just the act of murder or adultery, but the hatred and the lust that the act expresses. Judged by this standard, who is going to stand before the holy demands of Sinai? The "righteousness" of the scribe and Pharisee utterly collapses.
- Said — the commandment against murder came from God Himself, written by Him on the second table of stone.
- Heard — Jesus says "you have heard," never "it is written." What reached the crowd carried the scribes' additions along with God's word.
- Judged — the added clause pointed to the local judges in every town. The law handled the deed, not the heart behind it.
- Answered — the original Lawgiver of Sinai speaks the words "But I say to you." From any other lips they would be blasphemy.
- Exposed — God weighs the heart, not just the act. The best religious record of the day collapses, and no one stands on his own righteousness.
But *I* say unto you, that every one that is lightly angry with his brother shall be subject to the judgment; but whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be subject to [be called before] the sanhedrim; but whosoever shall say, Fool, shall be subject to the penalty of the hell of fire.
The Lord has just quoted the commandment against murder and the penalty attached to it. Now He reaches past the deed to the feeling and the word behind it, and that raises a hard question: how can the sentence for killing fall on a flash of temper and an insult?
The words that open the verse are a claim, not just a comment. One writer notes how often they recur, and who has the right to use them:
The Lord Jesus now sets His own words against this commandment and its human addition: "But I say to you." These words occur five times in this part of the fifth chapter. He speaks with the same authority as the One who had once given the law, for He is the Son of God. Yet His words do not set the law aside. They stretch it to reach the condition of man's heart.
Another notes that the law was left standing, yet it never reached far enough:
The law and the prophets He had vindicated. All must come to pass. Yet the law made nothing perfect. He speaks Who is above the law and gave fulness to all on His own authority.
The commandment took hold of the extreme act. Christ takes hold of everything that act grows out of:
The law dealt with this extreme form of violence, but our Lord gives it length, breadth, height, and depth… He treats every kind of violence, feeling, and expression as now falling into the same class as murder in the sight of God. It covers anything of contempt and hatred, whatever expresses the ill feeling of the heart. It covers any putting down of another, the will to destroy others as far as their character or influence goes. All this is no better than murder in God's searching eye.
Commentators differ on the wording of the clause about anger. Some texts read "without a cause." Others read "lightly angry." One writer defends "lightly" as the original wording, and takes it to mean "even the remotest feeling of displeasure."
"Raca" and "fool" are not random insults. The Lord weighs each word and gives each its own penalty:
The one who called his brother "Raca" (Aramaic: "reka" — fool, lunatic) was liable to be called before the Sanhedrin (the supreme Jewish court at that time). Whoever said "fool" was liable to hell ("Gehenna"): eternal damnation. These three sins hardly differ from one another. If the last of them led to eternal damnation, then the others would do so as well. God does not look at the outward appearance but into our hearts.
The rising scale runs from thought, to a word of scorn, to a word of hate:
He judges men's inner thoughts. But if someone put such thoughts into words of scorn, branding another as "Raca" (vain or empty), he was in danger of being rightly called before the Jewish council to answer this serious charge. Worse still, he might put those thoughts into words of hate, calling someone a fool. If so, he was in danger of hell fire. A character that is hateful at heart has no faith: "Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him" (1 John 3:15).
The three penalties come from the courts of that day:
It was not enough not to kill. To nurse anger or contempt was of the same character as murder in His sight. He expressed His judgment of it in the terms of the court proceedings they knew, in their local and higher courts. "The judgment" put men to death by the sword. "The council" (Sanhedrin) did it by stoning. And "the Gehenna of fire" would make the horror of it greater.
The verse is not a ban on all indignation. What decides the matter is what the anger is for:
The source, motive, and aim decide. If of God and for Him by the Spirit, anger has His sanction; if for self, it is evil that exposes to judgment.
One writer takes these words two ways — as coming judgment, and as present exposure:
No doubt this will be so when the kingdom comes to the earth; swift judgment will overtake the offender. But the words lay bare the heart. They show that men cannot stand in their own righteousness before God, who judges the heart. The believer shares the divine nature, and so is righteous and loves his brother. Only receiving eternal life, which is Christ Himself, can produce righteousness and love.
- Authority. "But I say to you" is the voice of the One who gave the law, not setting it aside but pressing it into the heart.
- Root. The commandment forbade the deed. Christ exposes the root — anger, contempt, the will to destroy another's name — and calls it murder in God's sight.
- Words. "Raca" and "fool" carry rising penalties: the local court, then the council, then Gehenna. Speech publishes what the heart holds.
- Motive. Anger of God and for Him has His sanction; anger for self exposes to judgment. The source, motive and aim decide.
- Result. The verse ends self-righteousness. No one stands before a God who judges hearts. Only eternal life received in Christ produces this love.
If therefore thou shouldest offer thy gift at the altar, and there shouldest remember that thy brother has something against thee,
The Lord is teaching how brothers should treat one another. A man at the altar remembers that his brother has something against him — so what does God want from him now?
The first hearers still lived under the temple sacrifices.
We should remember that the Lord Jesus was speaking to His disciples, and the temple sacrifices were still in place. Still, His words have something to say to us too.
The distance in setting does not empty the passage of value for a reader today. One writer insists the opposite:
But it is a serious mistake to think this undeniable fact takes away the profit of a single word for the Christian, though we now stand in a position of grace that could not exist then. There is the richest moral instruction for everyone who honours Him who spoke as no man ever spoke.
Our instinct says God comes first, so finish the worship and sort out the quarrel afterwards. The verse overturns that instinct.
A man brings a gift to honour God, and on the way up to the temple his conscience is at work. Then, at the altar, his conscience reminds him that his brother has something against him. We might have thought it must always be right to put God first: offer the gift, and then go and seek reconciliation with your brother. The Lord, who knows our hearts, shows that in these circumstances the gift is unacceptable.
Notice which way the complaint runs. The man with the gift is not the injured party. He is the one who caused the injury.
In Matthew 18:15 the matter is what I have against my brother, because he has wronged me, and I should go and tell him his fault. But here I know that he has something against me. The case is reversed. Pride shows itself as much as anything in refusing to admit when we are wrong.
That is why the command is so short and so hard. It leaves no room to wait for the other person to come first.
Perhaps it was only a misunderstanding, or I may have deliberately hurt a child of God, a brother or sister. Anyway, he or she has something against me. The Lord says in this case, "Go."
Some read "the altar" as the Lord's Supper. One writer disagrees, but still applies the verse widely.
"The altar" does not mean the Lord's table. Still, we should examine ourselves before taking the Lord's Supper, and we shall have a far deeper sense of grace if we do. These were legal sacrifices. But for us the principle applies whenever we come to God — even in prayer. "If I hold on to sin in my heart, the Lord will not hear me."
Does making it right with the person also make it right with God?
If I wrong another person, that wrong will interfere with my communion with God. Only atonement can restore that communion. Paying the person back is not enough on its own. It might satisfy the injured man, but it could not be the basis of restored communion with God… Still, if the question is an injury done to my neighbour, then repayment must come first.
The Greek word here is not the one used of a sinner being reconciled to God, and the difference shapes what the errand looks like.
The Greek word for "be reconciled" here is di-allasso. It is never used for a man being reconciled to God; that is a different word, kat-allasso. Di-allasso means both sides giving ground after both have been hostile — an idea that is not in kat-allasso. It seems that when believers quarrel or misunderstand each other, the Lord sees that there is usually, if not always, fault on both sides. Both need to give ground.
The same writer turns the verse around, to the case where you are the one holding something against a brother.
Certainly you ought to go to him, if you have anything against him, and be reconciled to him. But instead of this you turn your back on the altar and stay away with your gift of thanks due to God. What blindness — sinning like this against God and against your brother!
- Remember — what starts this is your own memory, not his complaint. You are the one at fault, and pride is what keeps you standing still.
- Leave — do not press on God a gift He will not take. He refuses worship offered while a wrong sits unmended.
- Go — the first step is yours. The word for reconciling expects both sides to give ground, not a verdict on who was worse.
- First — repair comes before sacrifice. Paying the person back never covers sin by itself, yet God will not restore communion while the debt is left unpaid.
- Then offer — the same rule covers every approach to God, prayer included. Sin kept in the heart stops the Lord from listening.
leave there thy gift before the altar, and first go, be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.
The Lord has just placed anger and contempt against a brother alongside murder. Now He presses the point into worship itself. A man stands at the altar with his gift when he remembers a broken relationship. What God tells him to do next is not what most of us would expect.
The teaching about anger does not stop at the heart. It demands action from the one who caused the injury.
The Lord spoke with an authority uniquely and emphatically His own. He was not content merely to condemn the hateful evil of anger in heart and word, even when it never becomes a violent deed. He goes on to carry out the revealed mind of God for the kingdom by requiring reconciliation if anyone has made his brother stumble. Throughout, disciples are in view, not mankind in general.
The scene is the temple. The man is on his way to honour God, and his conscience is already awake. Our instinct would be to finish the offering and deal with the brother later.
We are called to act, and to act as soon as we see there is a problem. A man brings a gift to honour God, and as he goes up to the temple his conscience is at work. Then, at the altar, he remembers that his brother has something against him. We might have thought it must always be right to put God first — to offer the gift first, and seek reconciliation with the brother afterwards. The Lord, who knows our hearts, shows that in these circumstances the gift is unacceptable.
The word behind "be reconciled" points at both people in the quarrel, not just one.
The Greek word for "be reconciled" is di-allasso. Scripture never uses this word for a man being reconciled to God. For that it uses a different word, kat-allasso. Di-allasso means mutual concession after mutual hostility, an idea absent in kat-allasso... It seems that when believers have a quarrel or misunderstanding, the Lord sees fault on both sides, usually if not always. Both need to make concessions.
God refuses the gift because of what He is building among His people.
Our Father will not value our offerings, as His children and worshippers, unless we are growing in affection for our brothers... Our Father is working to fill a kingdom with children and with brothers. Its citizens will know Him as their Father and each other as brothers... He says, in effect, "You must come to Me in the path of brotherly love. Otherwise I cannot receive your gift. My altar is indeed among you, but I cannot receive your gift while you have no love for one another."
The command is to go. It applies too when you are the one holding a grievance. Staying away from worship is a second failure.
So you certainly ought to go to him, if you have anything against him, and be reconciled to him. But instead of this you turn your back on the altar and stay away with your gift of thanks due to God. What blindness — sinning in this way against God and against your brother!
Does this verse mean you should stay away from the Lord's table? Commentators are careful here. They point to what Paul writes.
Some have asked what this means for us. If someone comes to remember the Lord in the breaking of bread, and remembers that another has something against him, should he not break bread until the matter is settled? Scripture does not put it that way. It says instead, "Let a person examine (or judge) himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup" (1 Cor. 11:28).
Kelly points to the nation that heard these words. They were bringing offerings to that very altar.
What tenderness of conscience He looked for! Brotherly affection, humility, readiness to admit wrong, a desire to win back an offended brother... And the opposite was the case with the Jews. They were so absorbed in bringing their offering to the altar that they were blind to their wrong against Him who stooped to be their brother... They refused to be reconciled and kept on with their offering, however offensive to God. It was presumptuous sin, and high-handed self-will under a cloak of religion.
- Remember — conscience wakes at the altar, not before it. The wrong you forgot, God did not.
- Leave — the gift stays where it is. God will not take worship offered over an unhealed injury. The Father is forming a family, not collecting offerings.
- Go — the move is yours, whether you gave the offence or are holding one. Turning your back on the altar instead is a second sin.
- Be reconciled — the word means mutual concession after mutual hostility. Expect fault on both sides, and confess your own.
- Then come — the aim is a restored gift, not an abandoned one. On the Lord's Supper, writers point to self-judgment and eating, not staying away.
Make friends with thine adverse party quickly, whilst thou art in the way with him; lest some time the adverse party deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison.
The verse moves from anger to the law court. A man is on the road to trial with someone who has a claim against him. Commentators ask who that accuser is, what "the way" means, and whether the prison at the end is eternal.
One writer explains the custom behind the picture and the message it carries:
In the past it was common to keep a convicted debtor in prison until he had paid all his debts. The Lord speaks here in symbolic language: "There is an opportunity to make peace with the other side before it is too late, even though one might find this hard. But the time for reconciliation will cease. The one who is not prepared to act in this way will have to bear the consequences."
Commentators read the accuser in more than one way. One takes it as the Messiah Himself, whom Israel turned into an enemy:
The awful truth is this: their stubborn disobedience and blind unbelief made an adversary of Jehovah-Messiah, the very One who loved Israel and would die for them. His presence, if received, would have been their salvation and best blessing. Instead, because they utterly rejected and hated Him, it had to bring on the crisis that could not be avoided.
Another writer takes the accuser to be the law itself:
The "adversary" — the law, "Moses, on whom you have set your hope" — was bringing them to the Ruler or Judge, God, the Judge of His people. John the Baptist, and our Lord Himself, had been preaching as the accuser of the people. They showed them their sins and called them to repentance. But while this was the case, Israel was only "on the way to the magistrate." There was still time to be reconciled — by repentance and by accepting Christ as Messiah. This they refused to do... So the Lord's prediction came true: they were delivered to the Judge, dealt with judicially by God, who handed them over to the "officer" — the executor of His will; in this case, the Gentiles.
Christ Himself was the one walking that road with them:
So Jesus came, seeking an account of the fruit produced. "Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are going with him to court." Christ was saying, I am still in the way with you. "Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation." The axe was laid to the root of the tree. So they had only one thing to do: agree with Him who had the right against them.
If the road ends with no agreement, the sentence follows. One writer marks out exactly what that sentence is:
So the case was just about to come before the Judge. The Judge would hand the convicted man over to the official, and he must go to prison until he had paid the last penny. This is no question of eternal judgment, but of God's moral government on the earth... The guilty debtor still lies in that prison, until his heart turns to the One he despised. Then the word will go out, "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God... that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins."
This is where readers have gone badly wrong:
Wrong spiritual applications of the last part of this example have led to much confusion. The doctrine of "purgatory" is probably the saddest proof of that. Scripture nowhere teaches that a man must suffer a temporal punishment from God after death to be eternally saved. No; once death has come, the soul's eternal destiny is settled: a person is either eternally and perfectly saved, or eternally lost!
One plain lesson stands at the end of the road:
They were like men in danger of being called before a court. They had no answer to give that could ward off the punishment they deserved. Their only hope lay in making peace with their accuser before they stood before the judge. Once they reached that stage, they could expect nothing but judgment... At the judgment seat, whether of man or of God, no one brought there as guilty can expect mercy. So while they still had the opportunity, let them use it.
- Road — The scene is a debtor walking to court. The road is the only place where terms can still be made; after the verdict, the door shuts.
- Accuser — Commentators differ. Some read the accuser as the Messiah, whom Israel treated as an enemy. Others read it as the law, pressing its just claim.
- Quickly — The urgency is the point. While Christ was present, He was still "in the way" with them, and that was the day of salvation.
- Prison — The sentence pictures God's government on earth, not eternal judgment. The debtor stays until the discipline is complete. Then comes comfort.
- Warning — At the judgment seat no mercy is found by the guilty. The mercy is on the road — so use the opportunity while it lasts.
Verily I say to thee, Thou shalt in no wise come out thence till thou hast paid the last farthing.
The Lord ends His warning about settling with an opponent by shutting the prison door. No one walks out until he has paid the last coin. The picture raises three questions — who is the debtor, what is the prison, and does anyone ever come out?
The image comes from real courts, and it carries a deadline.
In the past it was common to leave a convicted debtor in prison until all his debts were paid (compare Matt. 18:30, 34). The Lord says here in symbolic language: "You still have the chance to make peace with the other party before it is too late. You may find this hard. But the time for reconciliation will end. Whoever is not prepared to act this way will have to bear the consequences."
Several commentators read the debtor as the nation of Israel. They refused to settle with their own Messiah.
I believe that Israel were guilty of that very folly — Israel as a people — that they did not agree with the adversary quickly. There was the Messiah. Being His adversaries, they treated Him as their adversary and by their unbelief forced God to be against them... They did not agree with their adversary quickly. So the judge could only hand them over to the officer, and into prison they went. There they remain to this day. Because they rejected the Messiah, the Jewish nation has been shut out from all the promises of God. As a nation they were committed to prison, and there they must remain till the last penny is paid.
The word "adversary" describes a relationship man created, not one that belongs to God's nature.
God is no adversary to man. For a poor sinner, it would be an entirely wrong thought that God needed to be reconciled... for the sinner is God's adversary... It is man who has made God a judge, not in His nature, but through man's sin. And here as to Israel, sin had made Him an adversary. They rejected Christ, and that rejection ended in the cross. Now they are cast out of their land — or, in the language of our chapter, "cast into prison."
The sentence here belongs to God's dealings with people on earth, and it has a stated end point.
This is no question of eternal judgment. It is God's moral government on the earth. Yet all of it is true of His people, found guilty and consigned to suffer long. In that prison still lies the guilty debtor, till his heart turns to the One he despised. Then the word shall go out: Comfort, comfort My people, says your God... that her iniquity is pardoned (Isa. 40:1-2).
"The last penny" sets a limit as well as a demand.
The uttermost farthing of the great debt of the people must be paid, but nothing beyond this will be exacted from them.
For centuries people have used this verse to prove a place of temporary punishment after death. One commentator shows that the idea contradicts itself.
Here the Catholics are inconsistent with themselves. If minor sins are forgiven in purgatory, this passage still speaks of the last penny being paid. Surely we cannot speak of a debt being forgiven and at the same time paid to the last penny.
The alternative offered is simple: the moment of death closes the question.
Scripture nowhere teaches that a man must suffer a temporary punishment from God after his death to be eternally saved. No; once death has come, the soul's eternal destiny is decided. A person is either eternally and perfectly saved or eternally lost! This verse therefore can only refer to circumstances on earth.
The force of the warning lies in one word: "quickly."
Thus Jesus came, seeking an account of the fruit produced. "Agree with your adversary quickly, while you are on the way with him." Christ was saying, I am still on the way with you. "Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation."
Law can only ever name the full amount. The cross settles it.
Under law, payment must reach the last penny. For the believer, the cross of Christ has paid it... The majesty of the law was never so upheld as in the death of Christ. He kept it perfectly at every step of His life. He magnified it and made it honourable. Yet He bore the law's curse for those who had broken it.
- Debt. The image is a court and a debtors' prison: the man stays locked up until he pays every coin.
- Adversary. God is no adversary to man. Sin makes man God's adversary, and Israel treated their own Messiah as an enemy.
- Prison. Commentators read this sentence as God's government on earth, not the final judgment. Israel's exile is the prison still standing.
- Limit. The debt must be paid to the last penny, but not one coin more. The sentence ends in "Comfort, comfort My people."
- Paid. Law can only demand the full sum. For the believer, the cross of Christ has paid it.
Ye have heard that it has been said, Thou shalt not commit adultery.
The seventh commandment protected something God had guarded from the beginning, and under the law of Sinai it was enforced by the severest penalty. But the law reached only as far as the deed itself.
In the Old Testament, adultery — being unfaithful to your husband or wife to satisfy lust — had to be treated with great severity. Under the law of Sinai this sin had to be punished with death (Lev. 20:10; Deut. 22:22-24). First of all, the law gave God's rules for the outward and social life of His earthly people. That is why it punished only the completed act, even though the tenth commandment forbade coveting the neighbour's wife (as well as all his possessions, Ex. 20:17). If a Jew kept the commandment not to commit adultery, he was acting according to God's will... But merely keeping this and all the other commandments on the outside could not justify him before God.
The prophets had always spoken as messengers. On the mountain someone speaks in His own name, and the crowds noticed the difference.
The prophets of old had come before the people with "Thus says the Lord" on their lips... but in the Sermon on the Mount Jesus stood up and said, "I SAY TO YOU." His teaching astonished those who heard Him, for He taught them as One having authority... He is able to look behind the profession and all that is outward, and read the heart, which none but God can do.
Some have used this pattern — "you have heard... but I say to you" — as permission to replace old Scripture with newer ideas. Commentators reject that reading firmly.
It is a scandalous and immoral procedure. He was shifting the searchlight from the outward actions to the unseen inner nature... the Lord went deeper. He dealt with the hidden desires of the heart, with the nature that lies at the root of every wrong act and from which all evil deeds spring. He declared that God required truth in the inward parts. In his great repentance David learned that his nature was more terrible than his deeds. The law taught Saul of Tarsus the same needed lesson (Romans 7). This did not make void the law; it established its use as a searching, convicting power.
Another writer puts the same point positively: the law was upheld, not cancelled.
The law was content to forbid the actual act; the Lord went further, and forbade not only the outward act but the inward desire.
The next verse traces the sin back to its source. It also exposes what an honest person could only learn by trying and failing.
Because of the teaching of the scribes and Pharisees, the Jews thought that simply keeping the law on the outside was the way to be justified before God. Here the Lord points to the human heart and shows that adultery has its source there. This is not a "spiritualisation of the law," as some say. For the first time He reveals something that every honest Israelite had to learn by experience. Everyone who tried to keep the commandment "You shall not commit adultery" had inside them the very lusts that led to the actions God forbade. They had no strength to overcome them. The commandment even stirred those lusts up: "...for I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, 'You shall not covet'" (Rom. 7:7-11).
The warning is precise. It is not aimed at every glance a person cannot help.
The Lord is not speaking here about accidental, unplanned looks that a person can barely avoid. He means the deliberate look of lust... So the sinful thought in the heart comes before the deliberate look.
Nor may single readers assume the subject passes them by: "the word 'adultery' shows that either the man or both are married. Nevertheless, no unmarried believer should think that these words of the Lord have nothing to say to him."
The remedy He urges is drastic, and it works on the heart rather than on the body.
Anything in our walk, our ways, or our service that puts a soul in danger of giving in to these impure desires should never be spared. We must leave it at any cost... Cutting off these parts of the body pictures a heart fully exercised in self-judgment. Such a heart does not excuse itself by saying that it never committed the sin. It gives up whatever exposed it to that sin.
Outward respectability never reaches this standard.
Avoiding the act itself might satisfy a Pharisee or scribe. But the Lord could not do without truth in the inward parts... it is not the outside only that God regards, but the heart above all. Only a new nature delights in holiness. The person who has it by grace answers to the will of God his Father. He hates himself if he slips even into a wrong look, as something unworthy of his calling and hateful to Him who loves him.
- Root — The law punished the act. Christ turns the searchlight on the nature that produces it.
- Authority — Prophets said "Thus says the Lord." Here One says "I say to you," speaking as the God who reads the heart.
- Exposure — The commandment restrains lust, but it also uncovers it. No honest person has the strength to keep it.
- Cost — The answer is not the excuse "I never did it." It is self-judgment that gives up whatever exposes the soul to the sin.
- Remedy — Only a new nature, given by grace, delights in holiness and grieves even over a wrong look.
But *I* say unto you, that every one who looks upon a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.
Jesus takes the command against adultery and pushes it past the act to the look, and past the look to the desire behind it. The question He raises is not "have I kept the rule?" but "what is in my heart when God looks at it?"
Because Jesus adds to what the law said, some conclude He was replacing it. One writer answers that objection using this very verse.
Take one example out of the seven times in that discourse when our Lord said, "I say to you." "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery.' But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Matt. 5:27-28). Where is the setting aside of the law? No — He upheld it. The law was content to forbid the actual act; the Lord went further, and forbade not only the outward act but the inward desire.
The scribes and Pharisees — Israel's religious teachers — measured obedience by outward conduct. Against that background, the Lord's words did something no one had heard before.
Because of the teaching of the scribes and Pharisees, the Jews thought the mere outward keeping of the law was the way to be justified before God. Here the Lord points to the human heart and shows that adultery has its source there. He reveals for the first time something every honest Israelite had to learn by experience. Everyone who tried to keep the commandment "You shall not commit adultery" already had inside them the very lusts that led to the acts God forbade. And they had no strength to overcome them. The lusts were even stirred up by the commandment: "for I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, 'You shall not covet'" (Rom. 7:7-11).
The verse describes a look with intent, and that distinction decides how the words apply day by day.
This distinction is very important. Today we can hardly go anywhere without seeing the moral corruption of our time. We do not mean to see it, and it defiles us easily. The intentional covetous and sinful look is something completely different. No Christian can stop unclean thoughts rising in his mind. They become sin only when he turns toward them and gives himself to them instead of turning away. Covetous looks and unclean thoughts are sin. So it is also sin when believing women and girls stir them up by their dress and behaviour.
The same writer knows the opposite danger — a conscience so tender it condemns itself for what it never chose.
God-fearing Job said: "I have made a covenant with my eyes; how then could I gaze at a virgin?" (Job 31:1). But some Christians are over-sensitive and over-anxious. Involuntary looks and thoughts weigh their consciences down. I would remind them of the well-known words Martin Luther wrote on this verse: "I cannot stop a bird flying over my head, but I can stop it building a nest in my hair or biting off my nose."
Advice to simply try harder fails at the exact point this verse targets.
It is sometimes said that deliverance from sin is a matter of personal effort, and that evil habits can and should be overcome by one's own firm resolve and perseverance. But this advice overlooks one thing. Willpower alone may check the wicked deed, but the sinful desire has already filled the heart. And divine holiness uncovers the secret source of inward evil. In God's sight, a foolish thought is sin. Our Lord condemns the lustful look and the adulterous act alike (Matt. 5:28).
What does work is a changed nature, and it shows itself in how a person reacts to even a single wrong glance.
The avoidance of the extreme act might satisfy a Pharisee or a scribe; but the Lord had to have truth deep inside a person. Only a new nature delights in holiness. The one who has it by grace answers to the will of God his Father. If he slips even into a wrong look, he hates himself for it, as unworthy of his calling and hateful to Him who loves him.
The verses that follow name the eye and the hand, and commentators read them as a call to cut off whatever leads that way.
Whatever in our walk, or in our ways, or in our service — whatever it might be that exposes a soul to the danger of yielding to these unholy feelings — should never be spared, but abandoned at any cost… The cutting off of these members pictures a heart thoroughly exercised in self-judgment; not excusing itself by saying that it had not actually committed the sin, but giving up whatever exposed it to that sin.
- Source. Adultery does not begin in the act; the Lord points to the heart and shows that the sin has its source there.
- Standard. The law forbade the act, and He forbids the desire behind it — not setting the law aside but carrying it inward.
- Sin. Unavoidable sights are not the issue. A thought becomes sin when you turn toward it instead of away.
- Strength. Willpower can check a deed, but not the desire that filled the heart first. Only a new nature delights in holiness.
- Surgery. The right response is unsparing self-judgment — refusing the excuse "I never actually did it," and giving up whatever exposes you to it.
But if thy right eye be a snare to thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members perish, and not thy whole body be cast into hell.
Jesus has just said that a lustful look is already adultery in the heart, and now He says what to do about it. His words shock: does He want an eye torn out, and what loss is He weighing against what gain?
Would obeying this with a knife even work? One writer says no, and gives the reason.
The Lord is not calling for self-mutilation or asceticism in these words. The Creator will never demand that His creature mutilate the body he has received from Himself. Even if someone plucked out both his eyes, the lust would still remain in his heart. Rather, the Lord here extends the teaching to the question of self-judgment.
Refusing the literal reading does not soften the demand. The Lord blocks the excuse that sounds most reasonable — I can't do without this.
Better to sacrifice what might seem most necessary than to give oneself up to the sure penalty of sin... Men excuse on the plea of necessity what they find to be a constant provocation to sin. God's law admits no pretext of the kind.
Older translations say the eye "offends" you. The Greek word behind that comes from trapping.
The Greek word translated "scandal" literally means the stick in a trap that holds the bait, and so it came to mean the trap or snare itself. Most translations render it "stumbling-block," which means much the same thing.
Why the right eye, and not just any eye? The choice raises the cost of obeying.
In the Bible the right eye is often described as something very precious. The right eye and the right hand are symbols of attitudes and actions, but at the same time also of the precious and important things in human life. If they trap us — that is, if they cause sin or stumbling — then we should not spare even the most precious and important things in our lives. We should judge ourselves honestly and strictly, and separate from them if we must. Even if they are not bad in themselves, this does not mean that they are not dangerous!
The cutting reaches wider than the sin itself. It reaches whatever brings a person near it.
Anything in our walk, our ways, or our service that exposes a soul to the danger of yielding to these unholy feelings should never be spared. We must turn from it at any cost. There must be the cutting away of everything that is hurtful to the soul... Cutting off these parts pictures a heart thoroughly exercised in self-judgment. Such a heart does not excuse itself by saying it never committed the sin. Whatever exposed it to that sin must go.
One writer used this verse to counsel a man who could not master drink. Notice that he refuses to turn it into a rule for everybody.
If a man is in earnest, he will avoid the occasion of temptation where he feels he cannot overcome. I agree that we are not called upon to abstain as a law, and I object to vows or pledges. But if this man found it a means of avoiding sin, he would gladly act on the principle of total abstinence, so that he might not enter into temptation. We are to cut off a right hand or pluck out a right eye if it is a stumbling-block to us.
Jesus calls the loss better than the alternative. What is the alternative?
Hell is here "gehenna" or the lake of fire. The place where children were first offered to Moloch was called the valley of Hinnom, or Gehenna. People burned the city's rubbish there... It is "their worm" — a person's own conscience — that never dies. And the fire of God's judgment is never quenched. All this about the eye and the hand teaches us one thing: nothing, however valuable and useful, should keep us from self-judgment.
- Trap. The word behind "causes you to sin" is the bait-stick of a snare — the eye is not the enemy, it is the trigger.
- Precious. He names the right eye because the thing that traps you is usually valuable, useful, and not wrong in itself.
- Knife. He means no literal blade; blind eyes leave the lust untouched. Cut the occasion instead, by honest self-judgment.
- Pretext. The Lord removes the excuse "I need it." Necessity is no reason to keep a constant provocation to sin.
- Profit. Weigh one part lost against the whole body in gehenna, where the conscience does not die and the fire is not quenched. That sum turns the loss into gain.
And if thy right hand be a snare to thee, cut it off and cast it from thee for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members perish, and not thy whole body be cast into hell.
Jesus has just said that a lustful look is already adultery in the heart. Now He makes the point a second time — first the eye, then the hand: lose a part, or lose everything.
The command sounds severe. But writers point out that the problem is not in the hand at all:
The Lord is not calling for self-mutilation or extreme self-denial in these words. The Creator will never demand that His creature mutilate the body he has received from Himself. Even if someone plucked out both his eyes, the lust would still remain in his heart. Rather, the Lord here extends the teaching to the question of self-judgment. The mention of the right hand points to this.
Matthew names the right eye and the right hand. One commentator explains why the foot is left out:
In Matthew 5 the Lord is stressing what lies behind the action. That is why He names the right eye and the right hand, but not the foot. The right side speaks of what is positive, the left of what is negative. So the right hand stands for positive works of faith. If a man's conscience convicts him of misusing it, let him cut off his hand — that is, judge the action without sparing himself. Refusing to judge yourself at all leads to the judgment of hell. The believer will judge himself; let him do it thoroughly.
A hand is not evil. The Lord names something useful and dear, not something plainly sinful:
The right eye and the right hand are symbols of attitudes and actions, but at the same time also of the precious and important things in human life. If they cause us to sin or stumble, we should not spare even the most precious and important things in our lives. We should judge ourselves honestly and strictly, and separate from them if we must. Even if they are not bad in themselves, this does not mean that they are not dangerous!
A heart that obeys here refuses the excuse that no sin has happened yet:
Anything in our walk, our ways, or our service that exposes a soul to the danger of yielding to these sinful desires should never be spared. We must leave it at any cost. Everything that harms the soul must be removed. Cutting off these members shows a heart deeply exercised in self-judgment. Such a heart does not excuse itself by saying it has not actually committed the sin. Whatever exposed it to sin must be given up.
"I can't manage without it" is the standard reply. One writer answers it plainly:
Better sacrifice what might seem most necessary than give oneself up to the sure penalty of sin. Such an instruction clearly does not call for extreme self-denial or self-mutilation. But men plead necessity to excuse what they know keeps provoking them to sin. God's law admits no pretext of the kind.
The whole calculation depends on what "hell" means here. The Greek word is Gehenna, taken from a valley outside Jerusalem — but the Lord is not talking about geography:
In Matthew 5 the statement is general. The danger is hell-fire — your whole body cast into hell. The point is to sacrifice one member rather than sin. It is clearly not the valley of Hinnom. "Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell" (chapter 10:28). They do not put souls there. It is used as a picture of the place of final judgment and punishment… It is a judgment, a judicial punishment, for which there is no relief, of which there is no cessation.
Applied to daily life, the principle is to stay away from the situation you know you cannot win — and to do it freely, not as a rule imposed on others:
If a man is in earnest, he will avoid the occasion of temptation where he feels he cannot overcome. I agree that we are not called to abstain as a law, and I object to vows or pledges. But if this man found total abstinence a means of avoiding sin, he would gladly act on it, so that he might not enter into temptation. We are to cut off a right hand or pluck out a right eye if it is a stumbling-block to us.
- Cut, not maim. The hand is a picture. The real surgery is self-judgment: cutting off the limb would leave the desire untouched.
- Cut the useful. The right hand stands for what is precious and effective — a thing may be good in itself and still be dangerous to you.
- Cut the excuse. "I need it" is the plea the Lord refuses; necessity is no cover for a constant provocation to sin.
- Cut early. Avoid the temptation you know you cannot beat — by choice, not by vow.
- Or be cut off. The alternative is hell — not a place on the map but final judgment, with no relief and no end.
It has been said too, Whosoever shall put away his wife, let him give her a letter of divorce.
Jesus turns from lust to marriage itself. He takes up a saying everyone knew: hand your wife a certificate, and you may send her away. But did Moses' words in Deuteronomy 24 ever give a husband the right to end his marriage whenever he liked?
Where did this saying come from? Not from a commandment God gave.
The Lord Jesus is not pointing to a commandment from the Old Testament. He is pointing to a habit of the Jews — the writing of a letter of divorce — which had probably existed before God gave the law at Sinai.
So Moses did not start it. The law only set rules around a habit that was already there.
The certificate was not a permission slip for the husband. It protected the wife he was sending away.
This bill of divorce was meant to stop a man from treating his wife cruelly — throwing her out and yet leaving her unable to marry anyone else.
The process itself added a second guard.
A bill of divorce had to be given to the woman. Drawing it up and having it witnessed put at least a small check on a man's hasty temper.
What God tolerated, men treated as a right. The safeguard for the wife became a tool in the hand of the husband.
Here the woman is protected against hard-hearted man. Only actual sin that breaks the marriage bond calls for divorce. Men abused the permission beyond all measure, as if it were a command; any annoyance was enough. But the LORD hates divorce, as the last prophet told the Jews in their evil day.
The teachers no longer argued over whether divorce was right. They argued over what counted as a reason.
One school of Jewish teachers said the "uncleanness" of Deuteronomy 24:1 meant adultery or some other immoral behaviour. Other teachers accepted anything a husband disliked about his wife as a reason for divorce.
Why did God allow this at all? The answer lies in whom the law was speaking to.
The law contained certain concessions that did not express God's mind at all. In the law God was dealing with a people in their natural state. The law does not think of a man as born of God; Christianity does… the law itself drew no line between those born again and those not born again. It spoke to all Israel, not to believers only. So it allowed certain things because of the hardness of their hearts.
Jesus does not leave the matter with Moses. He speaks on His own authority, and He reaches back further than Sinai.
He sets His own word down with divine authority, so that what He laid down stands in contrast to the law and goes far beyond its claims… And what could be plainer than what He does later, in Matthew 19? He goes back to the beginning, long before the law, to the order and the word God set up in Genesis 2. There again His own word is full and final authority.
Behind the certificate stands a bond God Himself made. Does it hold for every marriage?
According to God's will, marriage cannot be dissolved. The Lord Jesus makes this plain in Matthew 19:6: "What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate." This not only applies to marriages made "in the Lord," but to every marriage. Already in the Old Testament God had spoken to Jews who had divorced their wives: "For the LORD, the God of Israel, says that He hates putting away" (Malachi 2:16).
(That Malachi verse follows an older translation. The ESV reads: "For the man who does not love his wife but divorces her, says the LORD, the God of Israel, covers his garment with violence.")
- Custom. The certificate of divorce was a Jewish habit, older than Sinai. The Lord quotes a practice, not a command from God.
- Concession. The law made room for what God never wanted. It spoke to a whole nation, not to believers only, and allowed things because of hard hearts.
- Cover. The written, witnessed certificate protected the woman. It stopped a man from throwing her out and leaving her unable to remarry, and it cooled his temper.
- Corruption. Men treated the permission as a command. Any annoyance would do, and the teachers argued only over how little was enough.
- Correction. Christ speaks with an authority that reaches back past Moses to Genesis 2. There God joined two into one, and He hates to see that bond broken.
But *I* say unto you, that whosoever shall put away his wife, except for cause of fornication, makes her commit adultery, and whosoever marries one that is put away commits adultery.
Jesus has been reshaping the commandments one by one. Here He turns to the certificate of divorce, which men in His day used as a legal escape hatch. The verse raises two hard questions. What does divorce do to the person sent away? And why does one situation stand outside the rule?
The saying quoted in the previous verse came from a law meant to restrain cruelty, not to license it.
In connection with the light of heaven on the lusts of the heart, the Lord adds His word on the permission of divorce in Deuteronomy 24. Here the law protects the woman against hard-hearted man. Only actual sin that breaks the marriage tie calls for divorce. Men abused this permission beyond measure, as if it were a command; and any annoyance was enough. But the Lord hates putting away, as the last prophet testified to the Jews in their evil day.
The teachers of the day argued only over how wide the loophole was.
One school of rabbis taught that "uncleanness" in Deuteronomy 24:1 meant adultery or some other immoral behaviour. Other rabbis accepted anything a husband did not like about his wife as a reason for divorce.
Jesus does not say the man sins and the woman escapes. He says the man puts her in the way of sin.
Whatever the wife's faults and weaknesses may be, the man who divorces her puts her in danger. She may be bound to another husband afterwards. The Lord here calls such a relationship adultery. This implies that the first marriage is still valid before God. A marriage is entered into before God and man. A divorce carried out before men, that is, in a court, does not break it. What breaks it is sexual union with another partner afterwards — even when that union takes place in a new marriage. It hardly needs to be said that this also applies to the spouse who puts away, that is, divorces, the other.
Commentators read the single exception not as a fresh permission but as recognition of something already true.
The one exception is allowed here because the marriage bond has been so violated that it is already broken in fact. If one party is guilty of sexual immorality, then it would not be adultery for the other party to divorce the first and marry another.
Jesus does not command the wronged partner to divorce. He says only what is not adultery.
Here the Lord Jesus makes room for one exception, and it clearly rules out any other. This exception is missing in Mark 10:11-12 and Luke 16:18, and Paul does not mention it in 1 Corinthians 7. The Lord does not say that divorce is unavoidable when one partner commits sexual immorality. He says only that in such a case, if the other partner divorces and remarries, that is not adultery.
The closing words reach beyond the couple to the man who marries the divorced woman.
In God's thoughts, the man who marries a divorced woman commits adultery. He breaks into a marriage that still exists before Him. These words of the Lord agree with what the apostle Paul writes to the Corinthians: "the wife should not separate from her husband (but if she does, she should remain unmarried or else be reconciled to her husband), and the husband should not divorce his wife."
Marriage is a relationship of this earth. It does not rest on human agreement alone.
So our Lord shows that serious difficulties may arise, yet God's own ordinance still stands strongly behind this human relationship. It belongs to this earth, but the light of heaven falls on it. Christ holds up the holiness of marriage. He shuts out every possibility that anything may interfere with it. One case stands apart: where something had already interrupted the marriage in the sight of God. There the act of separation only declares that it was broken already.
The law's penalty for adultery was death. Jesus does not repeat it here.
Here we see again what the Lord Jesus asks in His kingdom. He does not demand the literal keeping of the law given at Sinai. He seeks instead that His own should follow Him honestly and with a whole heart. For that reason He does not speak about the death penalty for the woman who had committed adultery. He warns His disciples about divorce and the sins caused by it. At the same time, in His grace, He makes room for the possible exception... We should not forget that the sin of adultery can and should be forgiven when the guilty one confesses it honestly. It does not have to lead to divorce.
- Permission, not command. Moses' certificate restrained hard-hearted men; the Jews turned a concession into a right.
- Bond, not paperwork. A court ruling does not end a marriage made before God. The first marriage still stands before Him.
- Exception, not escape. The one allowance covers a bond already broken by sin — it declares a fact rather than creating a freedom.
- Reach, not privacy. The words touch the one who divorces, the one divorced, and the one who marries her.
- Grace, not the death penalty. Christ does not repeat the death sentence of the law. He calls for whole-hearted faithfulness, and He leaves room for confession and forgiveness.
Again, ye have heard that it has been said to the ancients, Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt render to the Lord what thou hast sworn.
Jesus returns to a rule the crowd knew well: keep your oaths and never swear falsely. He does not soften it — He raises the standard so high that the oath itself becomes unnecessary.
The rule Jesus quotes rests on older ground:
The moral basis for the command not to swear falsely — that is, not to commit perjury — lay in two commandments. The third says, "You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain." The ninth says, "You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor." But other passages in the Old Testament warn the people of Israel about thoughtless swearing. Leviticus 19:12 says: "You shall not swear by my name falsely, and so profane the name of your God."
The same writer shows the other side. Under the law, some occasions called for an oath:
On the other hand, the law required an oath on several occasions. In such cases God asked His people to swear by His name. The oath then did more than confirm the truth. It was also a solemn vow, made in the knowledge that Jehovah was present — the Jehovah who had once Himself taken an oath before Abraham.
The second half of the verse speaks plainly of vowing — promises made to God. Those promises had a long and unhappy history:
There had been great abuse of vowing, as Israel's history makes clear. Men did not hesitate to vow recklessly to God at the prompting of their pride and passion and self-will. Then they found themselves trapped by what now seemed their duty. Careless profanity followed close behind, and people profaned God's name with casual appeals to it on every occasion.
Swearing by heaven, earth or Jerusalem was not extra reverence. It was a way of sounding solemn while staying free:
So the Lord goes far beyond perjury or breaking a vow. He forbids swearing altogether in the dealings of daily life. Our word there is to be Yes, yes, or No, no. Anything more than these has no sanction from God... All the strong affirmations the Lord illustrates from Jewish habit arose from men's constant experience of deceiving and evading. So they resorted to such means of guaranteeing the truth. But these efforts defeated themselves. A reliable Jewish writer from New Testament times tells us that oaths by earth, heaven, sun, stars and the whole universe were not counted binding. Only oaths that used God's name outright bound the conscience. Others could be broken.
So does this rule out an oath in a court of law?
The question here is not in the least a judicial oath. The Lord is dealing with how His disciples behave as individuals, not with their relation to the governing authorities. It is a matter of ordinary conversation, not an oath before the magistrate. Heaven, earth, Jerusalem, and a man's own head were ways of swearing in the everyday talk of Jews. They were not the kind of oath used when someone brings in God's authority to bring out the truth in matters of fact. That is why the Lord Himself, though silent before, answered when the high priest put Him under oath by the living God.
The distinction turns on where the oath comes from:
The same principle that stops me swearing on my own makes me take an oath before a magistrate. In one case I bring in God lightly. In the other I own Him in the magistrate, as I am bound to do. The Lord and James speak only of voluntary oaths — what comes from self... I judge a man to be wholly at fault if he does not take the oath a magistrate imposes. He disowns God's authority in the magistrate.
Piling up assurances weakens what is said:
Whatever is uncalled for gives no strength to an assertion, but is simply a fruit and proof of weakness. Where there is simple truth, nothing is needed but the quiet statement of the fact.
If the vow was a promise of my strength, grace removes the need for it:
To bring the vow into Christianity is out of place, and worse. Talk of covenant-vows or baptismal vows goes against the simplicity of Christ's arrangements for us, and against the grace which we know is our only strength. The vow has wholly passed away, but it has gone to make room for Christ's strength to rest on us, and for our very weaknesses to be gloried in for that reason. God's oath is sworn to us, that His abundant grace shall be our sufficiency.
- Root — The ban on false swearing rests on God's name and honest witness. Casual oaths profane both.
- Ruin — Reckless vows trapped those who made them, and dragged God's name into everyday talk.
- Ruse — Swearing by heaven, earth or Jerusalem was a loophole. It sounded solemn, but no one counted it binding.
- Range — The target is voluntary swearing in daily talk. An oath before a magistrate is different: there you own God's authority.
- Remedy — The vow gives way to grace. God swears to us; our part is a yes that means yes.
But *I* say unto you, Do not swear at all; neither by the heaven, because it is [the] throne of God;
Jesus has just quoted the old rule about oaths: don't swear falsely, and keep what you vow to the Lord. Now He sets a higher standard. How far does "do not take an oath at all" reach? And why does swearing "by heaven" fail as a way of leaving God out?
The old command dealt with false oaths. Jesus deals with the whole habit. His hearers had already sorted their oath-formulas into binding ones and non-binding ones.
So the Lord goes far beyond perjury or breaking a vow. He forbids swearing altogether in the dealings of daily life. Our word there is to be, Yes, yes, or No, no... The Lord draws His examples from Jewish habit. All such strong assertion grew out of men's constant experience of deceiving and evading. So they used these means to guarantee the truth. But these efforts defeated themselves. We know from a reliable Jewish writer of New Testament times that no one counted oaths by earth, heaven, sun, stars, or the whole universe as binding. Only an oath that named God outright bound the conscience. Men might even break the rest.
"By heaven" was one of those safer-sounding formulas. Jesus gives a reason: heaven is God's throne. That one reason pulls down the whole system of substitutes.
It was wrong to think a man could freely use these substitute phrases, as long as he did not mention the name of God. Heaven is God's throne, the earth is God's footstool (Isa. 66:1) and Jerusalem is the city of God and of His King (Psa. 48:1-2). A man who swore by his head was offering his own life as security for the oath. He should remember well that God alone is Lord over life and death. He does not even have the power to change the colour of one hair of his head.
The ban rests partly on what a man cannot do. God's own oath stands in a different class.
Man cannot even change the colour of a hair. That shows his utter weakness fully and simply, and it forms (at least in part) the basis of the prohibition. God might swear, for He could carry it out, and He knew all the consequences of what He pledged Himself to. We see Him do this beautifully when He wants to reassure His creature, who is so quick to doubt even the perfect faithfulness of his God.
If the oath goes, something must hold the weight of a promise. The commentators put that weight on ordinary speech lived out in God's presence.
It is quite enough that in our dealings with fellow believers or with other people, our yes should be yes and our no, no. "Anything more than this comes from evil." The believer is as responsible to speak as to act as in the presence of God. This is his regular privilege and safeguard... The evil one is a liar and the father of lies. He would gain a real opening if the Christian were not always watchful to speak truly, and needed such extra words before people believed him.
Some have read this verse as a ban on testifying under oath in a courtroom. Commentators here draw a line between an oath a man volunteers and an oath a lawful authority puts to him.
The same principle that stops me swearing on my own account makes me take what is called an oath before a magistrate. In the one case I bring God in lightly; in the other I acknowledge Him in the magistrate, as I am bound to do. The Lord and James speak only of voluntary oaths — what comes from self... When a magistrate imposes an oath, he is putting me under oath by his authority. I judge a man to be wholly at fault if he refuses that oath. He disowns God's authority in the magistrate.
Jesus' own trial shows the same distinction. He stayed silent until the high priest put Him under oath.
Notice how our Lord acted before the high priest. It is practical proof of the distinction drawn here. He was silent until the high priest put the oath to Him; then at once He answers. Who can doubt that He shows us the right pattern there?
- Throne — Heaven is not a neutral thing to swear by; it is where God sits, so the oath reaches Him whether or not His name is said.
- Dodge — The graded oath system let men swear and still feel free to break their word; Jesus cancels the whole ladder of substitutes.
- Weakness — God can swear because He can deliver what He promises; a man who cannot change one hair's colour has no such standing.
- Word — What replaces the oath is speech spoken as in God's presence, where a plain yes and no need no reinforcement.
- Court — Commentators read the ban as covering oaths that come from self, not the oath a lawful authority puts to you — the pattern being Christ, silent until adjured, then answering.
nor by the earth, because it is [the] footstool of his feet; nor by Jerusalem, because it is [the] city of the great King.
Jesus has just quoted the old rule about keeping oaths. Now He strips away the substitutes people used to avoid naming God. Heaven, earth and Jerusalem all belong to God already. So can any oath be casual? And do His words also rule out oaths in court?
The habit Jesus addresses started as caution. People avoided God's name and swore by other things instead.
Deuteronomy 23:21-23 plainly warned Israel that a vow, once made, was binding. They did not have to make such oaths, but if they did, no excuse could cover a failure to keep one. The Lord Jesus, though, forbids the making of oaths. To swear an oath was to promise to do something in the future. People often used God's name in these oaths (1 Sam. 30:15; 1 Kings 17:1). But holding back from God's name led them to swear by heaven, earth, Jerusalem, and even their own head. And that in turn led to empty oaths, made with no intention of keeping them.
The three replacements are not neutral objects.
It was a wrong idea to think one could freely use these substitute phrases, as long as one did not mention the name of God. Heaven is God's throne, the earth is God's footstool (Isa. 66:1) and Jerusalem is the city of God and of His King (Psa. 48:1-2).
The same reasoning reaches ordinary speech today.
Men also think little of swearing by heaven. Many use the word "heavens" as an exclamation. But heaven is God's throne, so such swearing means swearing by Him who sits on the throne. All of this shows how little people recognise the supreme honour that belongs to God.
People invented these lesser oaths to sound more believable.
Men were forever deceiving or evading each other. All the strong oaths the Lord points to in Jewish habit grew out of that. People turned to them as a way of guaranteeing the truth. But these efforts defeated themselves. A reliable Jewish writer from the time of the New Testament tells us that oaths by earth, heaven, sun, stars and the whole universe were not counted binding. Only an oath that named God directly bound the conscience; the rest could be broken. The Lord assumed poverty of spirit and purity of heart in those He addressed. So He forbade all such swearing. It offends God, and it does not fit the place of His sons.
The verse gives Jerusalem a royal title, and commentators read that title as pointing forward.
Significant here is the description of Jerusalem as the city of the great King. This will be during the millennial reign. When the kingdom has come, praise will be heard in the heavens, in the earth and in Jerusalem. Now the earth is full of swearing and wicked words. But in that coming day the offences will be gathered out of the kingdom.
The title carries a sharp irony, given what that city did to its King.
To Jerusalem alone belongs this title, and it is no empty distinction. The great King Himself, the Judge of Israel, was struck on the cheek there and nailed to the cross. Scripture had to be fulfilled that way. For its sin that same city became a byword and a curse among the nations. Yet it is to be known as the joy of the whole earth, because the same Messiah will be present there in majesty. His glory was once turned to shame, when men wrote over the head of the crucified Son of God, in cruel and mocking scorn, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews."
Commentators differ. Some read the command "Do not take an oath at all" (ESV) as absolute.
Many of the old church fathers — Justin, Irenaeus, Origen and Jerome — understood the Lord's words, "swear not at all," to mean that a Christian should never take an oath. Groups such as the Quakers and Jehovah's Witnesses also refuse every kind of oath.
Others limit the command to everyday speech.
The question here (as in James) is not in the least a judicial oath. The Lord is dealing with how His disciples behave as individuals, not with their relation to the governing powers. Heaven, earth, Jerusalem and a man's own head were ways of swearing in everyday Jewish talk. They were not the oaths used when God's authority is called in to draw out the truth about facts. That is why the Lord Himself, though silent before, answered when the high priest put Him under oath by the living God (Matt. 26:62-64).
- The dodge. People avoided God's name and swore by heaven, earth and Jerusalem instead. That opened the door to promises nobody meant to keep.
- The dodge fails. Every substitute belongs to God. Heaven is His throne, earth His footstool, Jerusalem His King's city. Nothing is left to swear by that is not His.
- The exposure. Casual oaths by "heaven" name the One seated on the throne. They show how little people honour Him.
- The demand. Nobody treated these oaths as binding anyway. So Jesus cancels the whole system for people marked by poverty of spirit and purity of heart.
- The horizon. He names Jerusalem by its kingdom title. The city that crucified Him is still the city of the great King, and will be the joy of the whole earth.
Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black.
The Lord has just set aside the phrases people swore by to sound more believable — heaven, earth, Jerusalem. Now He comes to the last one, the one a person keeps closest: his own head. Why should the colour of a single hair be enough to settle the question of whether we may swear at all?
To swear by your head is to put your own life behind your promise. One writer shows why that offer is empty:
It was a mistake to think one could freely use these substitute phrases, as long as one did not mention the name of God. Heaven is God's throne, the earth is God's footstool (Isa. 66:1) and Jerusalem is the city of God and of His King (Psa. 48:1-2). A man who swore by his head wanted to put down his own life as security for his oath. He ought to remember that God alone is Lord over life and death. He himself does not even have the power to change the colour of one hair of his head.
These substitute oaths were not slips of the tongue. They served a purpose:
The Lord goes far beyond perjury or breaking a vow. He forbids swearing altogether in the ordinary dealings of daily life. Our word in them is to be Yes, yes, or No, no. Anything more than these has no sanction from God, and is therefore of evil, or of the evil one, the enemy of God and man. The Lord draws His examples from Jewish habit. All such strong affirmations arose because men were forever deceiving or evading. So they resorted to such means of guaranteeing the truth. But these efforts defeated themselves. A reliable Jewish writer from New Testament times tells us that people did not treat oaths by earth, heaven, sun, stars, or the whole universe as binding. Only oaths that named God in plain, direct words bound the conscience. The rest they might even break.
A man cannot govern even the colour of one hair. So he cannot govern the future he is swearing about. One writer sets that weakness against the one Person who can swear safely:
The Lord sweeps into His prohibition all these evasions of the third commandment, putting them into the same category with what was once permitted. Man's utter weakness is shown fully and simply by his inability even to change the colour of a hair. That weakness is, at least in part, the basis of the prohibition. God might swear, for He could carry it out, and He knew all the consequences of what He pledged Himself to. It is beautiful to see Him do it. He does it to assure the soul of His creature, who is so ready to doubt the perfect faithfulness even of his God.
The same inability shows up far outside the courtroom. Writing on Israel trapped at the Red Sea, one commentator uses this very phrase to describe what faith does with a wall of difficulties:
Faith, on the contrary, raises the soul above the difficulty, straight to God Himself, and enables one to "stand still." We gain nothing by our restless and anxious efforts. "We cannot make one hair white or black," nor "add one cubit to our stature."
Removing oaths does not leave a gap. It moves the weight from our reliability onto God's:
Christianity has no place for oaths, whether sworn seriously or in vain. Israel's law had proved that man in the flesh cannot be trusted. They had vowed to keep the law, and they broke it again and again. So we must not dare to stress how dependable our own word is. Instead we should depend completely on the truth of the word of God. This is the effect of grace.
Does this command also rule out an oath before a judge? One writer separates the courtroom from everyday speech:
Here the reference is not a judicial oath, that is, an oath administered by a magistrate… The matter here relates to communication between man and man. … Suppose our Lord had meant to forbid the Christian from taking judicial oaths. Would He not have used as His example the oath that was usual in the courts of those days? … If the magistrate does not acknowledge God in the oath, the Christian is still bound to acknowledge God in the magistrate, who is a servant of God in the outward things of this world.
Whatever one decides about courts, the daily habit is clear:
In our dealings with fellow believers or with anyone else, it is quite enough that our yes should be yes, and our no, no. … The believer is as responsible to speak as to act in the presence of God. This is his constant privilege and safeguard… The evil one is a liar and the father of it. Suppose the Christian were not always watchful to speak truly, and needed extra words before people would believe him. That would give him no small opportunity.
- The pledge. Swearing by your head puts your own life down as security for your promise — but life and death belong to God, not to you.
- The proof. One hair is the measure: a man who cannot change its colour cannot guarantee the future he is swearing about.
- The contrast. God may swear, because He can carry out what He pledges — and He did swear, to steady souls slow to trust Him.
- The exchange. Man's word proved untrustworthy, so grace shifts the weight off our reliability and onto the word of God.
- The habit. Anything added to a plain yes or no admits our bare word is not trusted, and gives the liar his opening.
But let your word be Yea, yea; Nay, nay; but what is more than these is from evil.
The verse closes the Lord's teaching on oaths with a rule short enough for a child to keep: let "yes" mean yes and "no" mean no. Behind that simple rule lie two hard questions: why does anything added to plain speech come "from evil," and does this ban an oath in court?
Older translations read "Yes, yes; No, no." The repeated word asks one thing: that a person's speech match the fact.
If our words are honest and true, they need no other confirmation than "yes" or "no." The sense of this double mention of yes and no becomes clear from a very similar passage in James 5:12: "Yes" should really mean "Yes," and "No" should really mean "No." All that is more than that is only a sign that one generally does not take the truth too seriously, and therefore "comes of evil."
Piling on words does the opposite of what the speaker intends. It advertises the weakness it was meant to hide.
This in fact weakens what is said instead of establishing it. Whatever is uncalled for clearly gives no strength to a statement. It is just a fruit and proof of weakness. Where there is simple truth, nothing is needed but the quiet statement of the fact.
The swearing the Lord bans grew out of a culture where people constantly deceived and dodged. It also came with a way out.
So the Lord goes far beyond perjury or breaking a vow. He forbids swearing altogether in the dealings of daily life. Our word in these things is to be, Yes, yes, or No, no. Anything more than these has no sanction from God, and is therefore of evil, or the evil one, the enemy of God and man. All such strong wording, which the Lord draws from Jewish habit, grew out of men's constant experience of deceiving or evading. So they turned to these ways of guaranteeing the truth. But the efforts defeated themselves. A trustworthy Jewish writer from New Testament times tells us that oaths by earth, heaven, sun, stars, and the whole universe were not counted binding. Only oaths that used God's name openly bound the conscience; the rest men felt free to break. Since the Lord assumed poverty of spirit and purity of heart in those He addressed, He banned all such swearing outright, as offensive to God and out of keeping with the place of His sons.
Commentators read the closing phrase in two connected ways. Some point to the source outside us.
The believer is as responsible to speak as to act in the presence of God. This is his habitual privilege and safeguard. It may be forgotten by others, or by himself to his loss. The evil one is a liar and the father of it. It would be a great opportunity for him if the Christian were not always watchful to speak truly, and needed such extra words before people would believe him.
Others point inside the speaker, to pride: "More than this comes from the evil of man's natural pride" (Leslie M. Grant).
The law allowed oaths and banned only false ones. That allowance assumed a strength in man that man does not have.
The law, with that recognition of human strength which as law it necessarily implied, condemned only the false swearing, while permitting the swearing. But man's powerlessness has now been shown in full. The Lord teaches that our everyday speech must now recognise it — the speech of people who "cannot make one hair white or black." How closely faith, the theme here, is joined to the complete giving up of self-confidence that faith assumes!
Commentators differ. Some read the ban as total: "Christianity has no place for oaths, whether sworn seriously or in vain" (Leslie M. Grant). Others limit it to everyday talk, and point to how the Lord Himself acted at His trial.
It is below our calling, then, to indulge in affirmations beyond the simple statements of truth. It is worth noting, as a practical proof of the distinction drawn here, how our Lord acted when He was before the high priest. He was silent until the high priest put the oath to Him; then at once He answers. Who can doubt that He shows us the right pattern there?
- Yes means yes. Honest words need no backing; the doubled "yes, yes" asks that speech simply match fact.
- Extra words expose weakness. Whatever is uncalled for adds no strength to a statement — it only proves weakness.
- The source is evil. Anything beyond plain speech traces back to the liar behind lies, and to human pride wanting more weight than it owns.
- Faith drops self-confidence. Under the law men swore and still failed. A person who cannot change one hair's colour cannot guarantee anything.
- Court oaths debated. Commentators differ. Some read the ban as absolute. Others note that the Lord stayed silent until the high priest put Him under oath, then answered.
Ye have heard that it has been said, Eye for eye and tooth for tooth.
The words "an eye for an eye" come from Israel's law books. Why does Jesus begin with a rule God Himself gave — and what does He do with it?
The saying was not advice for a bruised individual deciding how to get even. It belonged to the courtroom, and the Old Testament passages that state it name the judges who were to apply it.
Once that rule leaves the bench and enters private hands, it stops being justice at all.
In verse 38 the Lord quotes from Exodus 21:24. "An eye for an eye" is fully righteous recompense, expressing the firm inflexibility of the law. Of course the sentence must be passed by a judge, not by the offended party. If one takes the law into his own hands, he will practically in every case inflict worse treatment than he received.
Modern ears hear this rule as savage. Set beside what an injured man really wants, it works the other way round.
Under the old economy we find that the law laid down the principle, in righteousness, "An eye for an eye" (Ex. 21:24), thereby restraining the wrath of man. Otherwise he would have demanded two eyes for one, in vengeance.
Jesus does not sharpen this rule or improve it. He names it so that what comes next will stand out against it.
This is not a stricter law. It is a different principle, and it rests on what the hearer has already received.
The law demands an exact equivalent — no more, and no less. But grace can cancel every claim. God has dealt with us in grace and cancelled our whole debt, so we must act on the same principle towards one another. But never forget that righteousness is the deep foundation of grace itself. That is why grace reigns through righteousness (Rom. 5:21), on a basis that is everlasting and unchanging.
Giving up personal payback is not the same as abolishing courts and rulers. Commentators keep the two apart.
Here the Lord instructs His disciples in their own personal path, not in their dealings with rulers. He sets their calling to walk in grace — in what they do and in what they bear — against that of the Jews, who were called to act in the righteousness of the law. It is absurd to apply such a passage to a government or a court of this world. If it did apply, it would prove that magistrates ought to pamper and reward every criminal instead of punishing any.
One writer says the people of that day were misusing the rule: "It was not for them to avenge themselves, but it was given as instruction to the judges" (The Bible Treasury). Another writer disagrees.
The principle "an eye for an eye" was valid only before the judges in Israel. We see this too in that the Jew was not allowed to take vengeance: "You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Lev. 19:18). It is not correct to suppose the Lord Jesus was referring to it because the Pharisees might have allowed it.
Jesus did not only teach this yielding. He lived it.
He presented far more than the other cheek, for they spat in His face, and beat Him, and struck Him with the palms of their hands with the utmost contempt. No! the Lord yielded to wrong instead of resisting it; and such is the true calling of the Christian.
- Measured — the law asked for an exact equal, no more and no less: a ceiling on revenge, not a licence for it.
- Judicial — God gave the rule to Israel's judges, not to the injured party. Left to the injured man, it always overpays.
- Quoted — Jesus names the rule and then leaves it behind.
- Grace — people whose own debt is cancelled release claims instead of collecting them. And grace itself stands on righteousness.
- Limited — the surrender is personal. Courts and rulers still carry out justice. Christ Himself is the pattern of the yielding.
But *I* say unto you, not to resist evil; but whoever shall strike thee on thy right cheek, turn to him also the other;
Jesus has just quoted the old rule of "an eye for an eye." Now He tells His disciples to meet a personal insult with the other cheek. Two questions follow at once: is He overturning justice itself, and did He mean this literally?
The words Jesus repeats come from Israel's law. They belonged in a courtroom, not in a private quarrel.
This law contained moral directions for the life of each Israelite. It contained ceremonial directions too — the laws of the offerings, so that the children of Israel could serve God. And it contained legal directions to regulate the daily life of the people. The principle of "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth" belongs to the last group. It is not a principle for one person's conscience. It is a legal direction for the authorities and judges of Israel. This is clear from Exodus 21:22 and Deuteronomy 19:18, where the judges are expressly mentioned. The direction rested on absolute fairness in repaying the deed. It was also meant to warn the people and hold them back (Deut. 19:20).
So Jesus is not calling the old measure unfair. He is asking for something the law never asked.
It is not that it is wrong for a man to punish according to the injury that has been inflicted on another. "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth" is perfectly righteous. But our Lord shows that we ought to be much more than righteous. We ought to be gracious… It is clear the Lord has no reference here to what governments have to do… He is speaking of personal injury. The evil done may be ever so undeserved, but it has to be overcome with good. Show that you are willing to take even more for Christ's sake.
The detail of which cheek is struck is not decoration. It marks the blow as an insult rather than an injury.
At that time a slap in the face was a deep insult. It was even more humiliating when it came with the back of the hand and so landed on the right cheek. According to the Jewish Talmud this offence "weighed double" compared to an ordinary slap. The disciples of the Lord Jesus ought not to look for reparation before men, but to suffer offences (compare 1 Peter 2:20). It reminds us of what Isaiah foretold about our Lord: "I gave my back to those who strike, and my cheeks to those who pull out the beard; I hid not my face from disgrace and spitting" (Isa. 50:6).
The command has a boundary, and the wording draws it — every case Jesus lists happens to you.
There is no supposition that the law or its penalties are abolished. The government of the world is not in question. What is in question is the path of disciples in it… We may still turn the left cheek to the man who strikes the right. We may let the man who sues us have the cloak as well as the coat he took by fraud. That is clearly within our rights. If the cause were someone else'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, or shrug at the rights of others. He speaks only of what is personal to oneself — "slaps you," "sues you," "forces you."
Many soften the saying by pointing to Jesus' own reply when a servant struck Him at His trial. Kelly answers that objection:
Some pare down and whittle away His words. They are not ashamed to argue that He did not mean them literally. Their reason: when He was struck on the face for His answer to the high priest, He protested calmly while bowing to the insult. Was this paying evil back in its own coin? On the contrary. This 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 presented far more than the other cheek. They spat in His face, beat Him, and struck Him with their hands in utmost contempt.
This life is not a stricter rule to try harder at. It is a different path altogether.
The saint is given a path through this world which has nothing to do with the world, but which displays the character of Christ in it. … This would not be righteousness, but Christ displayed.
- Law — "an eye for an eye" was a fair rule handed to Israel's judges, never a licence for the injured man to settle his own score.
- Grace — Jesus does not call that rule unjust. He calls His disciples past justice into grace, ready to bear more wrong instead of repaying it.
- Christ — the standard is His own face, given to those who struck and spat. The disciple follows a Master who took far more than one blow.
- Limits — the wording keeps it personal: he slaps you, sues you, forces you. It gives no cover to lawlessness and no right to give away what belongs to someone else.
- Life — this path is not law kept better but Christ displayed: a way through the world that has nothing to do with the world.
and to him that would go to law with thee and take thy body coat, leave him thy cloak also.
Jesus takes a case that any listener could picture: a lawsuit that strips a man of his clothing. His answer goes beyond the measured justice of "an eye for an eye." But how far does it reach? Does it bind the courts, or only the person wronged?
The two words mean different things. The tunic is the inner garment, next to the body. The cloak is the outer coat. Israel's law protected it, because a poor man slept in it.
Under the law it was forbidden to take as a pledge a poor debtor's cloak overnight. The debtor had to have his cloak returned so that he might have a covering for the night (Ex. 22:26; Deut. 24:12-13). This is probably what the Lord Jesus was referring to. He instructs His disciples not to resist and to give even more than the other man demands. This is grace.
So the surrender Jesus asks for is the one thing the law itself would have handed back.
The old rule was just. Jesus does not tighten it. He brings in something different.
Under the old economy the law laid down the principle, in righteousness, "An eye for an eye" (Ex. 21:24), thereby restraining the wrath of man. Otherwise he would have demanded two eyes for one, in vengeance. But here an entirely new principle comes in... 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... the disciple should be more than righteous: he should be gracious. As he walks through this world, it is better to lose his cloak than to give up those lovely principles of grace. They mark him out as one who belongs to Christ.
This is often read as though Jesus were dismantling courts and law enforcement. Commentators are careful here: the verbs are all personal.
Nothing here assumes that law is abolished, or its penalties. The government of the world is not in question, but the path of disciples in it... We may still turn the left cheek to the man who strikes the right. We may 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 person's, we would have no such right. We have no right to help people escape justice or treat it lightly. The Lord could never lay down a general rule that His people should allow lawlessness. He would never have them share in an indifference to the rights of others. He speaks only of what is personal to you — "strikes you," "sues you," "forces you."
You may give away your own coat. You may not give away someone else's protection.
One objection comes from the trial of Jesus Himself.
Some pare down and whittle away His words. They are not ashamed to argue that He did not mean them literally. Their reason: when He was struck on the face for His answer to the high priest, He protested calmly, while bowing to the insult. 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, who when reviled, did not revile in return, and when suffering, did not threaten. In fact He presented far more than the other cheek, for they spat in His face, and struck Him, and hit Him with the palms of their hands with the utmost contempt. No — the Lord yielded to wrong instead of resisting it; and such is the true calling of the Christian.
Luke's version of this saying names the outer garment first, then the inner. The difference is deliberate, and it widens the teaching.
In the Gospel of Matthew the case is of one who sues at law... Luke, on the contrary, writes, "from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either." It is not a case of legal suing, but of illegal violence... The apparent discrepancies of the Gospels are therefore their perfection, if indeed we value the entire truth of God... The Jewish disciple would especially need guarding 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, and not only in the face of law.
Everything turns on what a coat is worth next to what you lose by clutching it.
How much better to lose one's clothes than consistency with Christ? The spirit of the instruction goes further than the one cheek or the outer coat. What men want is to escape all suffering and keep their human rights, in defiance of His words. So they lose the reality of Christianity, and they keep not even its appearance.
- Grace, not equity. "An eye for an eye" was righteous restraint; Jesus asks His disciples to be more than righteous — to be gracious.
- Grace gives more. The law itself told a creditor to return a poor man's cloak by nightfall. The disciple hands over even that.
- Grace is personal. The words are "sues you," "strikes you," "forces you." Forgive your own wrong. Never hand over another person's protection.
- Grace has a face. Christ offered more than the other cheek. He yielded to wrong instead of resisting it. That is the standard.
- Grace costs cloth. Losing a coat is cheap. Losing consistency with Christ leaves you without even the appearance of Christianity.
And whoever will compel thee to go one mile, go with him two.
Jesus is still answering the old rule of "an eye for an eye." This time the demand is legal: an official can claim your time and your feet, and the answer is to go twice as far.
The verb here is not about bullying. It is the language of official demand.
The word used for "compel" (Greek: angareuo) first meant to press someone into a service. This is how Simon of Cyrene was pressed into carrying the cross of the Lord Jesus. So even when a service is unwanted and unpleasant, the disciple should not only do it willingly, but do more than the job demands.
The demand was familiar, and people hated it.
The imperial government let its officials, while out on their errands, demand that a man come along in certain cases, and bring his pack animals too. How easily men are annoyed by what is, after all, no great burden! And none more so than a people like the Jews under their pagan rulers. The Lord would raise His disciples above all such self-will.
The second mile is not a new limit to defend.
With what simplicity and force He gives His own a spirit that carries them in quiet dignity above the squabbles of the world! It would be unworthy of Him to hold to the letter and refuse to go four or five miles, if that was the demand, just because the Lord had said, "Go with him two miles." The real mind of the Lord is that the disciple should willingly go beyond what he was asked. It is grace in patience.
The old rule was not unfair. Jesus does not correct it. He asks for something higher than justice.
"An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth" is perfectly righteous. But our Lord shows that we ought to be much more than righteous. We ought to be gracious, and He presses this as the high point of this part of His teaching... It is clear the Lord has no reference here to what governments have to do. The New Testament is written for the Christian... Personal injury is what is meant here. The evil done may be entirely undeserved, but it has to be overcome with good... The great principle our Lord marks here is this: according to the law you might go one step, but according to the gospel you would go two. This holds whether it is human violence, or the law applied however harshly or wrongly. Grace does twice as much as the law, whatever the point in hand.
There are three ways to meet a wrong, and only one of them is grace.
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.
One objection points back to the Lord's own trial.
Some who would whittle away His words are not ashamed to argue that He did not mean them literally, because when He was struck on the face for His answer to the high priest, He calmly protested, while still bowing to the insult. Was this paying evil back in its own coin? On the contrary, He was One who did no sin, and no deceit was found in His mouth; when He was insulted, He did not insult in return, and when He suffered, He did not threaten. In fact He offered far more than the other cheek, for they spat in His face, and 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 that is the true calling of the Christian.
No one can do this by willpower. It takes a new life.
He saves by giving not only redemption, but a new and divine nature. That nature hates self-will, and loves and does God's will. So you obey under the law of liberty, not as the Jew did under the law of bondage.
The mile is gone. The principle is not.
Going the extra mile has a wide application. Someone may be very inconsiderate of our welfare or our feelings. How good it is if we can answer by being extra considerate of him! This is grace, in contrast to legality. In this we rightly represent the character of our blessed Lord.
- Compelled — the word means an official demand for service, the very word used when Simon of Cyrene carried the cross.
- Grace — eye for eye was righteous; Christ asks His disciples for more than righteous. He asks for gracious.
- Beyond — the second mile is not a new limit but a direction; grace does twice what the law asks, and gladly more.
- Christ — He is the standard: He gave far more than the other cheek, and yielded to wrong instead of resisting it.
- Life — only a new nature makes this walk possible: it hates self-will, and obeys in liberty, not bondage.
To him that asks of thee give, and from him that desires to borrow of thee turn not away.
This verse closes the Lord's teaching on not repaying injury. It moves the disciple from enduring wrong to doing good. And it raises a question every honest reader feels: does Jesus mean I must hand over whatever anyone asks me for?
The command does not stand alone. It closes a run of sayings about being struck, sued, and forced to serve. One writer warns against softening it.
In this verse we have a great principle for the Christian. It comes at the close of the call not to resist evil, but to suffer it. The wrong may be private, or come through twisted uses of the law, or at public demand. Christ is the pattern for the disciple. No sound explanation can explain away His word, however unpleasant it is to human nature. The new nature stays loyal to it, as the perfect law of liberty. Only the selfish nature looks for a way out by every dishonest means.
Why can a disciple afford to be open-handed? Another writer points to who looks after him.
The disciples are under a higher government than any earthly one, and it will take abundant care of them. They no longer need to plead their own cause or take up arms in their own defence. And they share in such royal bounty that they are to be bountiful themselves.
Why should a disciple give like this? Because of what he has already received, and in a measure far past what he ever requested.
He did not stop there, but told the disciple to give habitually to the one who asked. For what had he himself not received from the divine Giver, beyond everything he asked? He was the object of countless rich mercies — was he to turn away from someone who would ask or borrow?
Another writer notes that Israel's law already restrained hard dealing with a needy fellow Israelite, and that Jesus goes further still.
Even under the law the Jew could not lend anything to his brother at interest (Lev. 25:35ff; Deut. 23:19); rather, he was to open his hand wide to him (Deut. 15:7-8). The Lord Jesus here places no restrictions on giving and lending. For God, the great Giver, did not spare His own Son but delivered Him up for us all.
The measure is not the worth of the person in front of you. It is the character of God, seen in the Lord's own dealings with crowds who brought Him nothing.
I am not to ask questions about whether the person is worthy, and I need not give the amount he asks — but I am to give, because God gives. People brought their sick to the Lord, and having power and grace He healed them, requiring nothing, asking nothing. Many did not deserve it at all; yet He was the display of the giving God, and He gave freely.
Commentators differ in emphasis here. One insists that nobody may explain the Lord's word away. Another warns that a strictly literal reading misses the point.
This does not mean that we are to give everyone whatever he chooses to ask, or to lend whatever he wants to borrow. Rather, we must always be in a giving state — always ready to give, never tired of giving. Then, when a case of real need comes before us, we may enjoy the privilege of meeting it. So we are givers even as God Himself is a giver. This does not free us from the responsibility of our stewardship — from acting as God would have us act before Him, and for His glory.
Does that mean giving without thought? One writer says no.
Suppose someone came and asked you for something, and you had reason to think he would spend it wrongly — you must limit it. Why not? He might say to you, "Didn't the Lord command, 'Give to the one who begs from you'?" Certainly He did. But He has also given other words. By them I judge whether giving is right in each case. What the Lord has in view is real need.
A single bad experience tends to close the hand for good. One writer meets that reflex head-on.
Do you count up how often you have been deceived? Even then, why feel bitter about it? The word of Jesus entitles you to give as to your Father. The person who receives your gift may put it to a bad use — that is his responsibility. I am bound to cultivate an unsuspicious generosity, and this quite apart from mere friendship.
The verse can be quoted in a self-serving direction, and one writer answers that trick with its own logic.
One man who professed faith said to me, "I ask because I want to give my brothers an opportunity to fulfil Matt. 5:42." I said, "Be consistent then. Go about hitting them, taking them to court, and forcing them to come at your bidding. That will give them the chance to fulfil the three previous verses." Let us make sure that when we read "Love," we love, and when we read "Give," we give. The one who yields everything gets everything; the one who keeps everything loses.
- Received — God gave first and did not spare His own Son; the disciple gives out of what he received.
- Released — A higher government guards him. He need not defend himself, so his hands stay open.
- Ready — The command builds a settled readiness to give, not a duty to hand over whatever anyone asks.
- Real need — Judgement is right. The Lord has real need in view, not funding folly.
- Responsibility — If the receiver misuses your gift, that is his account, not yours. Stay generous without suspicion.
Ye have heard that it has been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy.
The Lord takes up a saying His hearers had grown up with — and the second half of it is not in the law at all. Two questions follow: who counts as my neighbour, and where did the permission to hate come from?
The first half of the quoted saying comes straight from Scripture. The second half, one writer argues, came from the human heart:
"It was said, You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy." This last clause was a deduction, the inference of an evil nature. The law said, "Love your neighbour"; but there was no instruction to hate an enemy.
Kelly traces where they drew it from. The Jews took it, he writes, from "the general tenor of the law," because God had once sanctioned the destruction of their enemies.
One writer traces, step by step, how Jewish teaching narrowed the word "neighbour":
The question of the scribe in Luke 10:29, "And who is my neighbour?" shows that the Jews had restricted the meaning of this commandment. God intended them to see a neighbour in every fellow-man. They did not want that. They counted only their own people as their neighbours. In this way the Gentiles, the "uncircumcised," were excluded from their love. The strict scribes and Pharisees went even further. They did not want to count ordinary Jews as their neighbours. They considered them cursed because they did not know the law. Finally they excluded personal enemies from this commandment too. Only a very few "privileged" ones were left to be treated as "neighbours."
Notice what the human heart added: not a loophole, but a positive obligation. And notice how far the Lord's reply goes past merely being civil:
Men understand, at least, that they ought to love their neighbour: but their qualifications narrow even their idea of such a duty, while they have invented a duty of hate, which no lawgiver would perhaps dare to write on his tables, but which is nevertheless obeyed all too readily in practice. "You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy" is what a man would justify to his conscience, as he approves it in his heart. But the law has no other word than "neighbour" here, as it has no other duty than to love him; and the Lord specifically puts even our enemies into this class. "But I say to you, Love your enemies" — not merely do them good, though that might seem much, but "love them."
The command is not about warm feelings towards people who hurt you. And the law itself already pointed this way:
But the Jews deliberately overlooked something. In the law God had also commanded them to love their enemies (see Exodus 23:4-5; Leviticus 19:33-34)... the Lord Jesus does not give His disciples new commandments. He judges the fleshly narrowing of the old commandment, and the human addition to it. In God's thoughts, every person we have dealings with is our neighbour. That holds even if he or she turns out to be our personal enemy. The Lord Jesus does not demand an emotional love or a friendly affection for enemies. He demands the much higher divine love.
The law kept certain nations at a distance for generations. What Christ asks stands on different ground:
To love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, is wholly above the law or the duty of a people in the flesh. An Edomite or an Egyptian was not to be despised. Their children could enter the congregation of the Lord in the third generation. An Ammonite or a Moabite could only enter in the tenth. But Christ brought in grace and truth... As He came to seek and to save the lost, those who were His were to love their enemies and pray for their persecutors.
This verse asks more than what a person may do. It asks what he keeps in his heart:
Here was a thing that the law never could teach — it is grace. In a thousand practical instances, the question is not whether the thing is right. We often hear Christians asking, Is such a thing wrong? But this is not the only question for the Christian. Suppose wrong is done to him; what is he to feel then? If there is enmity towards him in another, what is he to cherish in his own heart?
The promised outcome — being sons of the Father — is not a wage earned by loving well:
It is a question of moral conformity or suitability to the character and ways of our Father. In everyday life we sometimes hear the saying, "You would not be your father's son if you acted like that." It is as though our Lord had said, "If you want to be the sons of your heavenly Father, you must act in grace to all; for that is what He is doing."
- Half-quoted. The love command is Scripture. The hate clause is not — one writer calls it a deduction of an evil nature.
- Half-defined. "Neighbour" shrank from every fellow-man down to a privileged few. In God's thoughts it covers every person we deal with, even a personal enemy.
- Half-hearted. The law itself commanded Israel to love their enemies, and they overlooked it. Christ asks for divine love, not a friendly feeling.
- Whole grace. This stands above what the law asked of a people in the flesh. It is what Christ brought in when He came to seek and save the lost.
- Whole likeness. Acting in grace to all does not earn sonship; it shows whose children you already are, because grace to all is what the Father is doing.
But *I* say unto you, Love your enemies, [bless those who curse you,] do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who [insult you and] persecute you,
Jesus takes a saying His hearers knew by heart and turns it inside out. Instead of marking off who deserves love, He points to the two hardest people to love: the enemy and the persecutor.
The command to love your neighbour comes from the law, but the words attached to it here do not. Commentators point out that religious teachers added the second half themselves:
The rabbis first narrowed the word "neighbour" wrongly. Then they went further. If you must love your neighbour, they said, you must hate your enemies — and by "enemies" they meant everyone else: the other nations, Jews without religious training, and personal enemies too... Love fulfils the law, as Romans 13:10 says. Out of that command they had made its exact opposite. You only had to love the few who shared your views. Everyone else you could meet with pride, contempt and hatred.
Loving an enemy is not a harder version of law-keeping. Christ asks for something the law never asked for:
To love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us is far above the law, and far above what the law asked of people in their natural state... But Christ brought in grace and truth. In the light of the Son of Man all were lost, even the sheep of Israel. He came to seek and to save the lost, so those who belonged to Him were to love their enemies and pray for those who persecuted them. It was the mind of heaven for His saints on earth.
This love is not a warm feeling towards someone who hurts you. It is an active interest in their real good, and their hostility is the very reason to care:
Love is not just a kind feeling. It is real concern for another person's true welfare. If that person returns hatred, that is all the more reason to care for him, because he needs special help. When you return good for evil, you represent God rightly. You also set an example that should reach the hearts and consciences of others.
This is not justice, and it is not just staying clean of evil. It is good sent out into a hostile place:
He takes up the principle of the law, which deals with evil in order to hold it down... Then He brings in a vast principle, made known when Christ came into the middle of evil: good that is entirely above evil, yet acts inside it... It is not righteousness, in the sense of justice; it is not what presents us to God... it is goodness in the middle of evil.
The command is not a theory. Christ Himself prayed for the men who were killing Him:
The Lord Jesus showed this love of God to us. "But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). While He hung on the cross He prayed for His tormentors: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34). So the Lord Himself is the perfect example of the command He gave.
The verse links this behaviour to being sons of the Father. Writers stress that the point is family likeness, not how someone becomes God's child:
When it is a question of "sons" it refers to our position... while here it is a question of character... God calls us to have the family character and to show the same grace, as sons of such a Father. The person who loves his enemies and does good to those who hate him shows the character of a son. His Father makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good. Think how people treat Him and blaspheme His name... Yet He still treats them this way, and He is "your Father."
These words sound beyond anyone's reach. Commentators answer that the command still stands, and that God supplies what it asks for:
If we are His sons, it is not arrogance to hold feelings higher than human nature can reach. This is our new standing, and it should be our delight. Grace alone can make it real. But Christ has obtained everything we need for this. The Holy Spirit is here to see it through and to guide us to Christ's glory.
- Distortion. "Hate your enemy" was never God's word. Religious teachers added it, shrinking the circle of "neighbour" until it held only a favoured few.
- Elevation. Loving enemies and praying for persecutors stands above the law. It is the mind of heaven, brought down to earth by Christ.
- Definition. This love means caring about someone's real welfare. Their hostility becomes the reason to care, not a reason to stop. It is goodness working inside evil, not justice measured out.
- Pattern. The Father makes His sun rise on evil and good alike. The Son prayed for the men crucifying Him. The command asks only for the family likeness.
- Power. The standard is not lowered for us. Grace alone makes it work. Christ has secured all we need, and the Holy Spirit is here to carry it through.
that ye may be [the] sons of your Father who is in [the] heavens; for he makes his sun rise on evil and good, and sends rain on just and unjust.
Sunrise and rain fall on people who have earned nothing. That is the pattern Jesus sets for disciples He calls to love their enemies, and it raises a question: what does that family likeness look like day by day?
The phrase "sons of your Father" here is not describing how someone enters God's family. Commentators note that the people He spoke to already belonged to Him.
The Lord here presents a high standard. In the Sermon on the Mount the word "son" has a practical meaning. The Lord Jesus is not speaking of the gospel here, or of how to become a child or son of God. He shows His disciples, who were already born again, how they could copy their Father in heaven by loving their enemies. In that way they would show in practice that they were His sons.
An everyday comparison makes the same point about resemblance:
Some think this passage teaches that a person can gain the relationship of children by a certain line of action. It does not. It is a question of moral conformity or suitability to the character and ways of our Father. In everyday life we sometimes hear the saying, "You would not be your father's son if you acted like that." It is as though our Lord had said, "If you want to be the sons of your heavenly Father, you must act in grace to all; for that is what He is doing."
Loving enemies is not a stricter version of an old rule. It goes past anything the law required of Israel.
To love our enemies, and to pray for those who persecute us, is far above the law or the duty of a people in the flesh. Israel was not to hate an Edomite or an Egyptian, and their children could enter the assembly of the LORD in the third generation. An Ammonite or a Moabite had to wait until the tenth generation. But Christ brought in grace and truth… In receiving Him they receive life, His life, and they are to show it this way.
The two halves of the verse are not saying the same thing twice.
Such love and devotion, to be worth anything, must be no mere form but a living reality — so that they might be sons of their Father in the heavens. That is their place of dignity. And what a pattern He sets! For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. What rich grace in the first comparison, and what faithful goodness in the second!
God gives this daily kindness to people He has every right to condemn.
He has the right to condemn the evil and the unjust. Instead of doing so, He shows them His goodness during their life on earth in the same way that He does to the good and the just. Nothing shows the love of the eternal Creator-God for His enemies more movingly.
Jesus does not point to a distant Ruler. He points to your Father, whose family has its own character.
When it is a question of "sons" it refers to our position… here it is a question of character. "The sons of your Father", "your Father who makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good" — not simply God, but your Father. He calls us to have the family character and show the same grace, as sons of such a Father… Think how people treat Him and blaspheme Him, and what man's character is! Yet He treats them so, and He is "your Father."
The sun that teaches disciples to give also leaves ungrateful people without excuse.
Out of His own goodness, as our Lord put it, He causes His sun to shine on the evil as well as on the good. He sends His rain on the just as well as on the unjust. Yet the man who profits by all these benefits and never thinks of God is a most wicked man, the greatest enemy of God alive on the earth… He shows less gratitude than even the poor animal that knows its master's kindness and care.
Loving enemies sounds impossible. The answer is not effort but grace.
Let us therefore be in earnest to keep up the family character… If we are His sons, it is no presumption to cherish feelings above human nature. This is our new status, and it should be our delight. Grace alone can make it good. But Christ has obtained all that is needed and effective for this. And the Holy Spirit is here to see to it, and to guide us to Christ's glory.
- Family character — the verse is about resembling the Father, not joining His family. Those He spoke to were already His.
- Family generosity — sunrise is rich grace to the undeserving. Rain is steady, faithful goodness. Neither one sorts people first.
- Family reach — the family standard goes past neighbours to enemies. The law never asked that of a nation.
- Family power — this life is above human nature, so grace alone makes it real. Christ's work and the Holy Spirit supply what is needed.
- Family witness — living this way puts the Father's ways on public display. Those who take His gifts and never think of Him show less gratitude than an animal.
For if ye should love those who love you, what reward have ye? Do not also the tax-gatherers the same?
Jesus has just told His disciples to love their enemies, and now He tests the quality of the love they already have. He does it by pointing to the men everyone despised: if your love matches theirs, what is it worth?
The comparison only works if you know how people saw these men.
The Jews hated paying taxes to the Romans, and they thought the men who collected them deserved no respect. That is why "tax collectors and sinners" are often grouped together. Religious people mocked the Lord for entering their houses. They called Him "a friend of tax collectors and sinners." But God's grace was for all, and Matthew was called from his tax office to be one of the apostles.
Returning love for love is not a Christian achievement. It is the ordinary human floor, and that is why it earns nothing.
The Lord Jesus then gives two examples, in verses 46 and 47. They show that loving your neighbour as the Pharisees practised it was no different from the way the world behaves. Even the tax collectors knew how to love their friends... There was nothing in that behaviour which would lead anyone to expect a reward.
What these men had was real, but it was only natural feeling. The Lord looks for love of a different kind.
Even in the time before the cross, the Lord insisted on a love wholly above mere human nature with its likes and dislikes. The hated tax collectors had natural affection, and loved those who loved them. The Lord told the disciples to love far beyond Jew or Greek. The family were to love as their heavenly Father did. It could not be equal in degree, but it was the same kind of love. That love must be in God's children by divine grace. It rises above every question of what a person deserves or what can be gained from them.
Christ sets His word here against what the people had been taught. The change He brings is not a tighter rule.
Here was something the law could never teach — it is grace. In a thousand practical situations the question is not whether the thing is right. We often hear Christians asking, Is such a thing wrong? But that is not the only question for the Christian. Suppose someone wrongs him; what is he to feel then? If someone is hostile to him, what is he to hold in his own heart? "Love your enemies… pray for those who persecute you… so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven." In this way they show in practice that they belong to such a Father.
The tax collector is only the floor. Verse 48 sets the ceiling: the Father Himself. One writer explains what that does not mean.
The name of Father reveals to us the fullness of grace. According to this sweet name they were already children, accepted in Christ as Christ is accepted by the Father... It is not said: Present to God a character of perfection, so that He may accept you through it and be pleased with you. Rather, you are the children of your heavenly Father — so display His character to the world. "For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust." He acts according to His grace, and not according to the law: you saved sinners, you are and ought to be witnesses of it. The tax collectors love those who love them, but your heavenly Father loves His enemies... It is not said, Be perfect before Him, or with Him, as if you were without sin, but like Him, act in love towards your enemies.
The test comes first with fellow believers who rub us the wrong way.
If I love the brother who is nice and agreeable to me, I am only doing what anybody might do. "If you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?" Suppose my brother is not nice and agreeable to me. If I love him because he is born of God, I am displaying the love which is the nature of God Himself. And nothing is greater than that.
- Floor — Returning love for love is the world's baseline; even the most despised men in Israel managed it, so it proves nothing about a disciple.
- Kind — What marks God's children is not warmer affection but a different kind of love, one that rises above what a person deserves or what can be gained from them.
- Source — This is grace, not law. The question stops being "was I wronged?" and becomes "what will I hold in my heart toward the one who wronged me?"
- Measure — The standard is the Father who sends sun and rain on evil and good alike; being "perfect" here means acting like Him toward enemies, not being sinless.
- Test — It begins with the believer you find hard to like. Love him because he is born of God, and you are showing the very nature of God.
And if ye should salute your brethren only, what do ye extraordinary? Do not also the Gentiles the same?
Here the Lord sets a simple test for His disciples. The Lord names two groups nobody in His audience admired — tax collectors and Gentiles — and points out that both manage the same warmth toward their own circle.
One reference work explains why tax collectors were so despised:
The duty of paying taxes to the Romans was deeply resented by the Jews, and those who collected them were thought unworthy of any respect. So "publicans and sinners" are often grouped together. The Lord was mocked by the religious people for entering their houses; they scornfully called Him "a friend of publicans and sinners." But God's grace was for everyone, and Matthew was called from his tax office to be one of the apostles.
The word "brothers" here reaches wider than family:
Even the tax collectors, those despised people who enriched themselves at the expense of their own people, knew how to love their friends. And the Gentiles also greeted their brothers — that is, everyone they knew well. There was nothing in this behaviour that would lead anyone to expect a reward.
Natural affection is real. But it reaches only the people already tied to us.
Even in the time before the cross, the Lord insisted on a love wholly above mere human nature with its likes and its dislikes. The detested tax collectors had natural affection, and loved those that loved them. The Gentiles greeted tenderly those bound up with themselves in mere ties of flesh and blood. The disciples were told to love far beyond Jew or Greek. The family were to love as their heavenly Father did. This could not be equal in degree. But it was the same kind of love. It must be in God's children by divine grace, rising above any question of what a person deserves or of hidden motives.
The question "what more are you doing?" invites a comparison — but not with the people next door.
It is God, not man, whom the Lord makes the standard. He points to the heavenly Father — not the fearful moral ruler made known to Israel, but our Father. What are His affections, what is His will about us?
Kelly presses both questions and refuses any lower standard:
If they loved those that loved them, did not the hated tax collectors do the same? If they greeted only their brothers, the despised Gentiles did the same too. This was altogether beneath the Christian according to Christ. "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." The Saviour would not tolerate a lower standard of feeling and conduct.
So the call is to family likeness. Kelly points to how the Father Himself acts:
Let us therefore be in earnest to keep up the family character. Does not our Father who is in the heavens make His sun rise on evil and good? Does He not send rain on just and unjust? If we are His sons, it is not presumption to cherish feelings above human nature; it is our new standing, and it should be our delight. Grace alone can make it good.
Another writer draws the line between display and earning acceptance:
It is not said: present to God a character of perfection, so that He will accept you on that basis. Rather: you are the children of your heavenly Father — therefore display His character to the world. He acts according to His grace, and not according to the law. You saved sinners, you are and ought to be witnesses of it.
The test bites hardest among fellow believers. Easy company proves nothing.
By upbringing and habits we may have very little in common. We may also disagree on many matters connected with the things of God. Now these are just the ones who put us to the test. Are we free to say they are no concern of ours, and pass by on the other side? We are not. If I love the brother who is nice and agreeable to me, I am only doing what anybody might do... If I love my brother because he is born of God, even though he is not nice and agreeable to me, I am displaying the love which is the nature of God Himself.
- More — a greeting kept inside your own circle is not more. Tax collectors and Gentiles already do that.
- Source — the standard is not the neighbours but the Father. God, not man, is the measure.
- Kind — children cannot match His love in degree. But it must be the same kind of love, above any question of what a person deserves.
- Reach — the Father sends sun and rain on evil and good alike. His children's kindness must go past where natural affection stops.
- Result — this is not how you earn acceptance. It is how accepted children show the family character to a watching world.
Be *ye* therefore perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.
Jesus ends a run of sayings about loving enemies with a command that sounds impossible. Everything turns on one word: perfect. Does it call for sinlessness in us, or likeness to God?
Many read this as a demand to become sinless. It points somewhere else — to a name, and to the family likeness that comes with it.
This text has no bearing at all on the question of perfection in the flesh. It is the revelation of the name of our Father who is in heaven, and the character that suits the kingdom of heaven in practice. The Jew of old was responsible to bear witness to the righteousness of Jehovah. The believer now is responsible to show the grace of "our Father." … The children are bound to sustain the family character. … Other Scriptures prove, if anyone needs proof, that sin still lives in the believer here below. It stays there, however much he must refuse it and put it to death. This text simply urges us to imitate our Father's grace, even toward those who deserve His judgment.
The word does not describe a flawless finish. It describes a character with nothing missing.
We speak of a thing as perfect when it has all its parts, without considering the finish of those parts at all. So the Lord tells us that as children we must resemble our Father, and to do this we must display all the features of our Father's character. We must not only love those who love us. He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends His rain on the just and on the unjust. We must display this feature of His character too.
God told Abraham and Israel to be perfect before Him. Here the wording changes. The relationship comes first, and the conduct flows out of it.
It does not say, Be perfect "before me," or "with your God," as was said to Abraham and to the Israelites, because the name of Father reveals to us the fullness of grace. … Now it does not say, Present to God a character of perfection, so that He may accept you through it and be pleased with you. Instead, you are the children of your heavenly Father — so display His character to the world. … He acts by grace, not by law. You are saved sinners; you are witnesses of it, and you ought to be. … It does not say, Be perfect before Him, or with Him, as if you were without sin, but like Him — act in love toward your enemies.
The Father is not naive about evil. He sees it and still holds a steady course. That steadiness, not blindness, is what we copy.
The Father notices and understands all the evil in the world. Yet He keeps an even course toward all. He sends His rain for the just and the unjust, and gives the evil a share in all His benefits. He Himself stays apart from all evil and always remains in His own perfectness. So we see things as they are. We are not to be blind to them, and not to be shaken by them. We go steadily on, taking what meets us in the spirit in which the Father bears with things. Then our hearts hold no answering evil. In this way we are perfect according to the pattern shown in the ways of the Father Himself.
A command like this can sound beyond reach.
The answer to all this is that our blessed Lord does not ask us to do impossible things. He never gives a command without supplying the grace needed to carry it out. So when He calls us to be perfect as our Father, it is plain that He is granting us a holy privilege and clothing us with a high dignity. It is our place to seek to understand and take hold of both.
Other passages give the same call in different words. Set side by side, they show two sides of God joined here.
God is the perfect example of true love for one's enemies. As the heavenly Father He is our example not only in this but in everything. In the parallel passage in Luke 6:36 we read, "Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful." In 1 Peter 1:16 we find the quotation of Leviticus 19:2, "You shall be holy, for I am holy." God is love and He is light (1 John 4:8, 16; 1:5). Mercy is an expression of love, and holiness is a mark of light. In our verse both are joined together.
- Father first. The command rests on a name already given — you are children before He tells you to act like one.
- Family likeness. To be perfect is to carry the family character: showing His grace, not reaching sinlessness in ourselves.
- Complete, not polished. Perfect means every feature is present. The missing one is love that goes beyond those who love us back.
- Reach. His own love sets the measure: sun and rain for the undeserving, and a steady course toward evil with no evil in return.
- Grace supplied. He never commands without giving what the command needs. This is a privilege held out, not a weight laid on.
Take heed not to do your alms before men to be seen of them, otherwise ye have no reward with your Father who is in the heavens.
Matthew 6 opens with a warning that changes the audience for everything a disciple does. The eye that matters is not the crowd's, but the Father's. Three questions follow. What is this "righteousness"? Why does display cancel the reward? And what about the earlier call to shine as light?
Older English versions read "alms" in this verse. Which word belongs here shapes the whole passage.
I take the liberty of altering the word "alms" into "righteousness" (v. 1), which a few of the very best authorities support. There are those that differ here as elsewhere, but at the same time internal and spiritual reasons confirm the external grounds. If you use the word "alms" in the first verse, is there not a mere repetition in the next verse? On the other hand, take the word as "righteousness" (so the margin), and all is plain. The context supports it. Notice how in the following verses our Lord divides righteousness into three distinct parts: first, almsgiving; next, prayer; then fasting.
So verse 1 works as a heading. The three examples that follow are not random. They cover the whole field of a life:
This principle then shows itself in three areas — toward others, toward God, and toward ourselves: almsgiving, prayer and fasting. Each of these is, of course, only an illustration of the principle. But divine wisdom chose each illustration, so each one must fit in a special way.
These words do not target obvious sinners. They target the religious performance of the most respected teachers of the day. They follow the Lord's demand that a disciple's righteousness must go beyond theirs.
In Matthew 6 the Lord sets His disciples before the Father in acts of kindness and in devotion. They were to do it all before Him who knows the heart. How completely His words must have swept the ground from under the recognised teachers of the day! He had said, "Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (5:20). The body of chapter 5 showed the hollowness of their teaching; what comes out in chapter 6 exposes their practice.
An objection comes up. The hungry are fed whether or not anyone watched. But the verse does not measure the outcome of the deed.
But one might say, "If someone does good to others the results will remain, even if everybody sees it!" Nobody can deny this, but it is not in question here at all. The Lord Jesus speaks of men who pretend to do something for God. In reality they look for recognition and glory from men as their reward for their alms. So the Lord Jesus says that if men admire them for it, they do have their reward. They shall not receive any reward from God. God does not primarily honour the results — even if they are most blessed — but the motives of our actions. He so much desires our love for Him (and for our needy fellow-men) to be the motive for our deeds.
Kelly puts the same point as a question about dignity: display in almsgiving is treated as a kind of acting.
He lays the utmost stress on the manner and the motive with which the act is done. Display in the doing of alms He compares to sounding a trumpet before the doer... Can anything be conceived baser than a son of God playing a part to win the notice and approval of men?
Those who win the praise of men already have their reward in full. The word "have" carries a force the English hides:
"Have" is compounded with a preposition, which gives it the force of having all they have to expect; they have the whole of it already... This is very solemn. It teaches that if we are tempted to seek the admiration, the honour, or the praise of men, we may be allowed to gain it. But then we have nothing more to expect, since we cannot then have God's favour and blessing.
The alternative is not a smaller reward but a later one.
Their reward is the approval and praise of their fellow men. This they have. It is all in the present, and there is nothing more to come. The one who gives or prays or fasts unknown to men but known to God will receive his reward openly in the day to come.
Earlier in the same sermon the Lord called His disciples the light of the world. The two passages aim at opposite results.
There He was speaking to His disciples who ought to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. If their good works were seen, God would be glorified by them, and not men. In our paragraph in Matthew 6 the result is just the reverse.
- Righteousness — Verse 1 is the heading. Almsgiving, prayer and fasting are its three branches: others, God, ourselves.
- Audience — The question is not who sees the good deed. It is who it is done for — men, or the Father.
- Motive — God does not primarily honour results, however good, but the motive behind the act.
- Reward — Praise from men is a reward paid in full on the spot; nothing more is coming.
- Light — Disciples are still the light of the world. When good works show, God gets the glory, not the doer.
When therefore thou doest alms, sound not a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may have glory from men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
Jesus has just warned against doing righteousness to be seen; His first test case is giving to the needy, announced with a trumpet blast. The question is not what a person gives but why — and what he keeps when applause is the aim.
The word translated "alms" carries more weight than a coin dropped in a beggar's cup. One writer traces it back to the word for mercy, and points to two examples of alms in Scripture:
The word "alms" comes from the biblical-Greek word eleemosyne. That word comes from the word for "mercy." The New Testament uses it only to mean a good deed or a deed of mercy. In Scripture it never has the lesser meaning of a small gift to a beggar as it has in today's language. Scripture mentions Dorcas' alms-deeds along with her good works (Acts 9:36). And the many alms which the Roman officer Cornelius gave to the poor of the Jews came up as a memorial before God (Acts 10:2, 4).
Jesus places this giving under "righteousness," which strips away any idea that generosity is a bonus:
Here the Lord Himself classes alms-giving as a form of righteousness. That is a significant witness to us. Mercy is not something extra; the ministry of love is itself a debt — a due. A man who withholds from another what he could give him for his need is not even righteous. This also removes the thought of merit from the mercy shown.
The trumpet gives the giver away. It shows he wanted an audience:
If their hearts had been right they would not have drawn attention to what they did. That is what "sounding a trumpet" before them means. It is a fatal thing to seek glory from men.
Notice where the trumpet sounds — in the place of worship and out on the street:
He puts the greatest stress on the manner and the motive behind the act. He compares showing off in giving to sounding a trumpet in front of the giver. He condemns it as what the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets — inside and outside, wherever people meet and pass. Can anything be lower than a son of God playing a part to win the notice and approval of men?
Jesus does not call these givers proud or vain. He picks a harder word:
Those who sound a trumpet before them (v. 2) to get glory from men — the Lord Jesus calls them hypocrites. This is a severe word. It shows how detestable such insincerity is.
They did get paid. That is the sting:
Three times over the Lord says of the mere formalist, "They have received their reward." Their reward is the approval and praise of the people around them. This they have. It is all in the present, and there is nothing more to come. The one who gives or prays or fasts unknown to men but known to God will have an open reward in the day to come.
But look at what is missing from that payment:
It is possible to make a great religious profession with the object of gaining the applause of men. Of such the Lord can say, "They have received their reward." But it is not Christ's reward. It is a reward without Christ, for the Lord says, "My reward is with Me." To enjoy Christ's reward we must wait for Christ's return.
Someone may object: the hungry person eats either way, so why does publicity spoil the gift?
Nobody can deny that, but that is not what is in question here at all. The Lord Jesus speaks of men who pretend to do something for God. In reality they look for recognition and glory from men, as their reward, for their alms... God does not honour the results first — even if they are most blessed — but the motives of our actions.
- Debt, not bonus. Jesus classes giving to the needy as righteousness. Mercy is owed, so it leaves no room for merit.
- Trumpet. The blast exposes the heart. A right heart "would not have drawn attention to what they did."
- Hypocrite. A severe word for a son of God "playing a part to win the notice and approval of men."
- Paid in full. The applause is the wage — "it is all in the present, and there is nothing more to come."
- Reward without Christ. The tragedy is not that they got nothing. What they got has no Christ in it. His reward waits for His return.
But thou, when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand does;
Here Jesus warns against doing good deeds so that other people will watch. Giving to the needy is His first example, and one hand kept in the dark about the other raises the question of the whole passage: who is meant to see?
Jesus treats giving as a form of righteousness. One writer explains why it makes such a showy display:
Almsgiving is chosen to express what is "righteousness" toward men. So it is distinctly called, and indeed was by the Rabbis also. So we can see how the Lord, in correcting a righteousness done before men, takes this up as a most showy form of it... Giving costs the giver so little. Yet it meets needs so varied and so obvious, and it looks so much like kindness, that it seems like cynicism to question whether the spirit is there.
Jesus uses a picture that sounds impossible, and one writer draws out the comparison inside it:
Everyone is called to see how and where he may help. The Lord does not command the giving of alms. But if we do give alms, we should do it in secret and unnoticed. For this the Lord Jesus uses words that sound impossible for anyone: "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." If my left hand is not to know what my right hand does, how much less should my brothers and the people around me know it!
Both hands belong to one person, so the hiding starts inside. Writers press the point: the one to be shut out is not only the crowd but the giver.
It is not only from others but from ourselves that such doings should be hidden. Self is a subtler evil than men. The action of grace is defiled and becomes a poison to me and a dishonour to God when I think of it with satisfaction. If we did it rightly, it went to our Father for Him to remember, not us.
Another writer draws the same conclusion from the nature of faith, and adds that Jesus assumes the good works are there:
We are never called to display our good works, or even to be aware of them. The Lord's lesson about almsgiving is a perfect picture of the rule for all such things... He takes for granted that there will indeed be good works. True faith in Him will surely have its fruit. But faith is the very opposite of being taken up with self, and certainly of self-satisfaction.
The danger is not limited to frauds. One writer finds it in a good man — Job, who knew his own kindness only too well:
Here lay Job's failure. Satan's blows never touched it, nor the lack of sympathy from his friends, nor even their suspicion. He was a most gracious man, but he thought about it, instead of thinking only of God who worked in him... Part of the lesson was that his left hand should not know what his right hand did. On the contrary, right to the end of his appeal (Job 31), he knew it only too well. But everything changed when he stopped looking at the fruits of grace in himself. He saw God, in true faithfulness, drying up all self-satisfaction.
One writer answers by asking who gets the glory:
This is not contradicted by the earlier words of the Lord Jesus in Matthew 5:16: "In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." There He was speaking to His disciples. They were to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. If people saw their good works, they would glorify God, not men. In our paragraph in Matthew 6 the result is just the opposite.
Giving up human applause costs nothing in the end. One writer describes a second hiding place, beyond the closed door of verse 6:
Happy are those who are set free from mere appearances, and from the value that other people may put on their works. They value only the approval of Him who sees in secret. Their reward is certain, a reward that will not perish with man and his world, but will last for ever... There is a secret room we may enter and shut the door (verse 6). There is also a secret place in our souls where we hide the record of such gracious acts. Then none but the Father who sees in secret may know it and reward us openly.
- Secret giving: giving is a showy form of righteousness, so Jesus makes it His first test of a hidden life.
- Secret from men: if one hand does not know, the people around you need not know either. Give, and say nothing.
- Secret from self: the harder hiding is inward. Looking back on our own kindness with satisfaction spoils it.
- Secret and still shining: good works done for our own credit are the opposite of light that makes people glorify the Father.
- Secret and rewarded: the record we leave with the Father, not with ourselves, is the one that lasts for ever.
so that thine alms may be in secret, and thy Father who sees in secret will render [it] to thee.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites; for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets so that they should appear to men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But *thou*, when thou prayest, enter into thy chamber, and having shut thy door, pray to thy Father who is in secret, and thy Father who sees in secret will render [it] to thee.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as those who are of the nations for they think they shall be heard through their much speaking.
The Lord warns against a fault in prayer: treating the number of words as the thing that moves God. Does prayer work by volume — and if not, why pray at all? (Where the ESV reads "heap up empty phrases," older translations say "vain repetitions" — the phrase most of the writers below discuss.)
The fault is not length in itself but the belief that persistence in the same formula earns a hearing. One writer defines it, then points to the first part of the cure:
Vain repetitions were, we suppose, the repeating of the same requests in the same words. People thought there was merit in keeping up their cries like this, and that, as the Lord says, they would be heard for their much speaking… So it is well to consider the twofold, entirely effective antidote. The Lord speaks plainly of one, and just as clearly implies the other. The first is confidence in God: "Your Father knows what you need before you ask him." Knowing this, the soul will be content to leave its petitions to His care and love.
Another commentator quotes Martin Luther. Behind the babbling lies a fear that God is not listening.
Here He criticises the abuse of prayer, when those who are praying use many words and babblings. He calls this a heathen practice — a loose, idle and useless talk of people who think they would otherwise not be heard. The spirit of the worshipper prays. Because he knows that God will hear him, he dares not use such endless, idle talk. The fewer the words, the better the prayer.
The Lord's own example in the garden settles this.
Our Lord does not forbid frequent repetition but "vain repetition." He Himself, blessed be His name, in His agony in the garden, prayed the same thing three times over. This is enough to prove that repetition can be very far indeed from being "vain." One person praying alone, or many Christians gathered together, may press the same matter again and again, earnestly and urgently, when it weighs heavily on the heart. No one can rightly call that "vain repetition."
The line runs between a recited formula and a burdened heart returning to the same request:
We have to tell two things apart. One is the vain repetition of set "formulas" said over and over. The other is the intense, fervent prayer of a believer who in his trouble keeps repeating his request. The Lord Jesus Himself gave His disciples the parable of the widow, to show that they ought always to pray and not lose heart.
The Lord's warning reaches past Israel to the nations — and past them to what would come later:
The Lord had to accuse the Jews of hypocrisy. He had to judge the heathen nations too, for their vain repetitions and much speaking in prayer (see 1 Kings 18:26-29). Beyond that He also warns His disciples against senseless prayers. He knew in advance what would develop in Christianity.
Applied to public prayer, this puts long-winded praying in unflattering company:
A careful reading of the Scriptures will show that long public prayers are not the rule in the Bible. The Lord refers to them with withering disapproval… Solomon said: "Guard your steps when you go to the house of God… God is in heaven and you are on earth. Therefore let your words be few" (Eccl. 5:1-3). So anyone who makes long public prayers puts himself in the same class as the heathen, the scribes, and fools, which is not very complimentary.
The Father already knows the need. So prayer must have another purpose.
Prayer is unnecessary as a way of telling God what we need. But it is not an exercise wasted when the child opens its heart and unburdens itself to its Father who is in heaven. This is the appointed way of relief for the heart of the creature: to pour out its requests to God.
The danger is not only public. It reaches into daily private prayer.
You find, I dare say, that you fall into this trap most often during your habitual prayers, in the mornings and evenings, for example. Suddenly you notice that you are saying the usual round of petitions without thinking, while your thoughts travel in all directions. This fault, if unchecked, will cause your prayers to become "vain repetitions."
- The error — The sin is not many words, but seeking merit in many words, as if God listens only after we wear Him down.
- The exception — Repetition is not the sin. The Lord Himself repeated His prayer three times; a heart pressing one heavy burden is never "vain."
- The reason — The nations prayed long because they doubted God heard them; the believer prays short because he knows God hears.
- The antidote — Confidence: your Father already knows the need. Prayer informs no one; it unburdens the child.
- The watch — The trap is nearest in the daily habit, when the lips run the usual round and the thoughts wander elsewhere.
Be not ye therefore like them, for your Father knows of what things ye have need before ye beg [anything] of him.
Jesus says this right after warning against piling up words in prayer. It takes away the whole reason for it: we pray to a Father who already knows. That raises the obvious question — if He knows before we ask, why ask at all?
The verse opens with a command to be different. The mistake it corrects is thinking that many words move God. One commentator quotes Luther:
"Here He criticises the abuse of prayer, when those who are praying use many words and babbling. He calls this a heathen practice — loose, idle and useless talk, by people who think God would not hear them otherwise. The spirit of the worshipper prays. Because he knows that God will hear him, he dares not use such endless, idle talk. The fewer the words, the better the prayer."
Jesus targets empty repetition, not repetition itself. Older translations call this "vain repetition," and the word "vain" matters:
Our Lord does not forbid frequent repetition, but "vain repetition." He Himself, blessed be His name, prayed the same thing three times over in His agony in the garden. That is enough to prove that some repetition is very far indeed from being "vain." A person praying alone, or many Christians gathered together, may press and press again a matter that weighs heavily on the heart. They may do it earnestly, fervently and without giving up, and no one can charge them with "vain repetition."
The reason not to babble is a relationship — "your Father." One writer shows what human parents cannot combine:
He is marked by wisdom, love and power — a perfect combination. For instance, a mother might bend over her sick and dying child in the tenderest love. She loves the child, but she lacks the power to restore the child to health. Again, a father may have an only son. He is rich. He can give his son every luxury and satisfy every whim the young man may have — and in the end ruin the child for life. He has love and power, but lacks wisdom. But in the case of our heavenly Father there is love, power and wisdom.
If the Father already knows, prayer is not an information service. Its purpose lies elsewhere.
Is prayer then unnecessary, a useless exercise? It is unnecessary as a way of telling God what we lack. But it is not an exercise wasted when the child opens its heart and unburdens itself to its Father in heaven. It is the appointed way of relief for the heart of the creature to pour out its requests to God.
There is a second reason. Prayer does something in us, not only for us:
That our Father knows what we need is one side. The other side is that He wants us to keep realising our own weakness and dependence on Him. He wants to keep us in the enjoyment of communion with Him. Nothing helps this more than personal, confidential prayer.
The verse says the Father knows what things you need. That is a narrower word than we usually mean when we pray.
"YOUR Father!" If God is our Father, we are blessed indeed... One who knows what we need. What we want is another matter. A child in a family gets its needs supplied. But if the three-year-old wants to play with his father's sharp razor, his father refuses him. God is as loving in His refusals as in His answers.
The danger of empty praying is not limited to the people Jesus described. One writer points to two things that cure it, the second being the prayer that starts in the next verse:
Even the Jews were not free from the same tendency... and certain professing Christians have repeated the very evil the Lord condemns here. Even more could be said, for almost everyone is tempted this way. So it is worth looking at the twofold, wholly effective cure. The Lord speaks plainly of one, and just as clearly implies the other. The first is confidence in God: "Your Father knows what you need before you ask him." Knowing this, the soul will be content to leave its petitions to His care and love. The second is that prayer must be divinely taught: "Pray then like this."
- Knows — Our prayers tell the Father nothing new. He knows every need before we speak a word.
- So — Because He knows, length and repetition buy nothing. The fewer the words, the better the prayer; but earnest pressing of a real burden is never "vain."
- Still — Prayer is still the appointed relief for the heart. It keeps us aware of our weakness and in communion with Him.
- Need — He knows our need, not our wants. His refusals carry the same love as His answers, because He alone joins love, power and wisdom.
- Taught — Confidence in the Father is one half of the cure for empty praying; the prayer He goes on to teach is the other.
Thus therefore pray *ye* Our Father who art in the heavens, let thy name be sanctified,
Jesus has just warned His disciples not to pile up empty words when they pray. Now He gives them the pattern instead. It starts with who God is, not with what we want.
One writer ties this pattern back to the warning in verse 7:
In Matthew 6:9-13 we have a pattern for prayer. When the Lord gave this example He was not asking His own to repeat the prayer parrot-fashion. The Lord guards against this in verse 7 by telling us not to use empty repetitions as the nations do.
Calling God "Father" was a real advance on what had gone before, though not yet the full Christian position:
"Our Father in heaven." This is a distinct advance on anything known of God before. The patriarchs had fellowship with Him as the Almighty. Israel knew Him as Jehovah. But the coming of the only Son into the world has brought out the sweet name of Father… Even so, Matthew 6:9 falls far short of John 20:17. There we hear the risen One announcing the fruits of His great victory: "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God."
That name also limits who can use it. One writer contrasts the tax collector, who came to God on completely different ground:
This prayer does not have the whole human race in view, and it was not spoken to everyone alike. It does not express the state, wants, and feelings of everyone who has some desire after God, or a fear of coming wrath. So the tax collector stood far off. He would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, realising his sin and unworthiness. He does not dare to say, "Father," or "Our Father in heaven."… "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!" was the right and fitting cry from his broken heart.
The opening line packs three distinct thoughts into a few words:
The first section of the prayer has three subjects. First, "Our Father" indicates the dignity of His prime place, yet at the same time His tender care. "In heaven" shows His supremacy, high above all creation. "Hallowed be Your name" is the reminder of His sublime holiness, as set apart from all others.
The first petition reaches into the life of the person praying:
"Name" in Scripture always expresses what God is as revealed. So, in connection with the Father, it is the truth of what God is in that relationship. When we desire that His name should be hallowed, we ask that it be sanctified in us, by us, and by all who have the privilege of calling on God by this precious title. We ask for an answering response in us to His holiness in this relationship. How often we have said this prayer with little thought of what it involved! We said it even while we, as His children, were dishonouring His name as our Father by our unholy ways and associations!
Placed first, it becomes the root from which everything else in the prayer grows:
"Hallowed be Your name" is the great foundation of all, the first and strongest feeling of a renewed mind.
God's concerns come before ours in this prayer, and that order is meant to reshape our own asking:
How often we put ourselves and our interests first in our prayers. It was not so that the Lord taught His disciples. He taught them to put God first. They were to pray that His name might be hallowed, and then to reach out in their desires to the furthest bounds of the earth… The heart first reaches up to the sacred glory of God's name, and broadens out to include every dwelling of man. Then we may ask for our daily needs.
Commentators here agree that this prayer was not given as a fixed form for the church age, and they point to what is missing from it:
Examine the Lord's prayer closely, and nothing strikes the mind so strongly as the absence of any mention of the name of Christ… And our Lord in this passage says plainly that up to that moment His disciples had not asked anything of the Father in His name. This was at the end of His time on earth.
Yet the same writer insists its petitions remain ours to pray:
The death and resurrection of our Lord and Saviour have brought us into a new place, and into the known possession and enjoyment of higher blessings. Even so, we can go back in the power of the Spirit, take up many of its petitions and present them before God.
- Relationship first. Prayer begins with who God is to you — "Father." The coming of the Son brought that name out, and only His disciples could use it.
- Height second. "In heaven" sets the Father high above all creation, while "Our Father" holds His tender care.
- Holiness third. His "name" is all He has revealed Himself to be; asking it be hallowed asks that His holiness be answered in us and by us.
- Order fourth. God's glory leads, our needs follow — the reverse of how we usually pray.
- Use fifth. Given as a pattern, not a chant; Christ's name is absent from it, yet its petitions can still be taken up in the Spirit.
let thy kingdom come, let thy will be done as in heaven so upon the earth;
Jesus has taught His disciples how to address God. Now the prayer looks outward, to God's rule and God's will reaching earth. Two questions follow: whose kingdom is meant, and when will the answer come?
The prayer has a clear order. God's side comes first, and man's blessing turns on it.
There are six petitions. The first three have to do with God; His name, His kingdom, His will. The second three have to do with us; our bread, our debts, our deliverance. The heavenly Father and His claims must be first, and our needs second. The blessing of men on earth depends upon His will being done on earth, and that will only come to pass when His kingdom is established.
The verse does not say "Christ's kingdom." Matthew's Gospel keeps two spheres apart.
"Your kingdom come." It is not exactly Christ's kingdom, but the Father's. Read Matthew's Gospel with care, and you see the Father's kingdom marked off in Scripture from the kingdom of the Son of Man. So in Matthew 13:41-43 the Son of Man sends out His angels. They gather out of His kingdom everything that causes sin and all law-breakers… then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. At the end of this age the Lord will take the world as His kingdom, and must have evil purged from it, sooner or later, by His judicial power. But the Father's kingdom is another and heavenly sphere where only the righteous shine.
The second half of the verse makes heaven the measure. It also shows where the trouble lies.
But it does not satisfy the heart that the Father's will should be done in heaven only. So the third petition runs: "Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." When the Father's kingdom comes, this will be the moral answer to it, if I may put it that way, though in a lower sphere. Instead of meeting contempt and resistance, the Father's will is yet to be the guide and guarantee of all blessing in what was still a rebellious province. The disciples were to pray that it might be done on earth. Nothing like it was there yet, except in the ways of Him who was turning their desires toward God.
Kelly's last words point to one exception standing in front of the disciples.
"Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven" goes further still in its full accomplishment. Only once has earth seen this, in the life and death of the Lord Jesus. He alone could say, "I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do" (John 17:4). He alone on earth has done the Father's will perfectly. Nor will it be done in the Millennium, except by Himself as the King who will reign in righteousness.
The Millennium is Christ's thousand-year reign on earth. Even that, one writer holds, is not the last stage.
This petition reaches beyond the Millennium. The Father's kingdom will not be fully established until the new heavens and the new earth appear… and the Son of Man will not deliver up the kingdom to Him who is God and Father until He has subdued every enemy, so that God may be all in all (1 Corinthians 15:21-28). Everything here below is as wrong as it could be. We know it, so we long for this blessed outcome and pray for it.
This prayer is not neutral. It reaches the patch of earth you stand on.
How often we put ourselves and our interests first in our prayers. It was not like this that the Lord taught His disciples. He taught them to put God first. They were to pray that His name might be hallowed. Then their desires were to stretch to the furthest bounds of the earth: that every evil imagination might be overthrown, every evil work judged, every will subdued to God's will, and the whole earth filled with the glory of God. Then the heart has reached up to the sacred glory of God's name and widened to take in every home of man. Then we may ask for our daily needs… with a sense of the blessedness of His will — a will we ourselves have determined to live under. Otherwise our prayer that His will might be done on earth would be glaring hypocrisy.
- Order — Name, kingdom, will come before bread, forgiveness and deliverance. God's claims lead; our blessing follows.
- Kingdom — The prayer asks for the Father's kingdom, a heavenly sphere, distinct from the Son of Man's future rule over the world.
- Standard — Heaven sets the measure. Earth is the rebellious province where that obedience is still missing.
- Precedent — One life on earth has already answered this prayer: the Lord Jesus, who finished the work His Father gave Him.
- Reach — The full answer waits for the new heavens and the new earth. Until then, the one who prays it must live under that will himself.
give us to-day our needed bread,
The prayer the Lord gave His disciples turns here from God's name, kingdom and will to the one praying. The first thing asked for is a day's food. Much of the teaching in this short line hangs on that order, and on the odd word translated "daily."
The prayer falls into two halves, and this verse opens the second. One writer sets out the division and what each half is for:
This is not the prayer of a sinner seeking mercy. It is the prayer of people who already stand in a relationship with God, and who deal with Him directly as Father about their need. The petitions divide the prayer into two parts. The first three ask for the glory of God. The last four express the creature's dependence. It is beautiful to see the spirit of worship in the way the Name, the kingdom and the will of God come first… The whole prayer shows the three main thoughts of true prayer: God's glory, and the creature's need — first in earthly things, then in spiritual things.
So we confess the body's everyday need first, and the soul's need after that.
The English word "daily" does not carry the full force of the original. One writer says the word seems made for this petition, and that its sense limits what we may ask:
The word "daily" is a very poor way to put the original term into English. The Greek word epiousios means our "sufficient" bread — a word that seems to have been made for this very idea, as opposed to having more than we need. We cannot ask for more than enough without slighting the wisdom of the Lord. One ought not to look for more, even from the Lord of heaven and earth. He tells me to ask for bread enough for each day's needs.
The same writer connects the petition with contentment:
Give us today our sufficient (or, necessary) bread. So they are taught to begin by confessing dependence for ordinary needs, just as the apostle called us to be content with food and clothing.
"This day" sets the limit of the request. It leaves tomorrow out:
We have to do with God today. We may leave tomorrow to Him. He is our God, our Father today, He will be the same tomorrow when we meet it. The Lord did not teach His disciples to pray about tomorrow, but "Give us this day our daily bread."
Asking only for today shows how much we lean on a secured income:
Many a saint of God would almost break his heart if he thought his income would come to an end in twelve months' time. But this prayer means that we look to Him, and have no other resource for today's needs.
Every petition in the second half is plural, and that shapes who is in view when we pray for bread:
A sense of dependence, of failure, and of weakness stands out plainly in them. The needs we feel are seen as the needs of others in the same family of faith, who are therefore joined with us in every petition. The prayer is a family prayer all the way through. It expresses a shared interest, and no one pulls out of it to walk alone. How well we would be cared for if everyone remembered everyone in this way, and the family tie held the whole family together.
Commentators differ on how far the petition reaches. One writer says it covers the soul's need as well as the body's, and points to the manna — the bread God gave Israel each morning in the desert:
It is not stretching the request for daily bread to let it include a spiritual meaning too… In both ways the supply must be constant. The manna must be fresh every morning, and freshly gathered as the morning comes: hoarded, it breeds worms and stinks. There is no release from this dependence. It only makes us feel the love that keeps supplying us, and it keeps us near the gracious hand of the Almighty… it is not meanness but love that deals with us this way.
For anyone who can walk into a shop, the petition can feel like a formality. It was not framed for them alone:
It is easy to have a well-filled purse, and enter a well-stocked shop, and buy what we need. It is quite another thing to be like the persecuted believers… for whom every single meal was an anxious question of where it would come from. What deep comfort to have the ear of One who loves, who knows, who cares, who is almighty, and who holds the hearts of all people in His power.
- Order — God's name, kingdom and will come first; only then do we ask for anything, and the first thing asked for is a meal.
- Enough — the word rendered "daily" carries the sense of sufficient or necessary bread, not extra; we ask only for what the day needs.
- Today — the request stops at this day, leaving tomorrow to the Father we will meet there unchanged.
- Us — the petition is plural throughout, a family asking together, no one praying for himself alone.
- Daily — like manna that spoils when hoarded, God renews the supply each morning, and that keeps us near the hand that gives it. That continual dependence is love, not meanness.
and forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors,
At the heart of the model prayer the Lord puts a request about debt. He ties God's answer to the way we treat those who owe us. Two questions follow: what forgiveness is in view, and how does our own forgiving set its measure?
The word "debts" pictures sin as an unpaid account with God. The parables use the same picture, and there the debtor cannot pay anything at all:
When Scripture speaks of our debts being forgiven (see Matthew 6:12; Matthew 18:23–35; Luke 7, etc.), it uses the word in its wider sense, as it always does. These are unpaid debts, trespasses or sins. God forgives them, as we have seen, because Christ has died and made atonement. In those parables we are not only debtors. We are bankrupt beyond hope, without a penny in the pound to offer... So we go free, not because God cancels what we owe, but because a competent Substitute bore the penalty for us — one His own love provided.
Notice who is praying. That changes what the request means:
One aspect of forgiveness here needs careful thought. These are not sinners speaking to God, but disciples — children to their Father. The gospel tells the sinner of forgiveness full and free through the Saviour's blood, and nothing the sinner does has any part in it. In Matthew 6:12 we have the Father's government of His family, an altogether different principle.
Reading this line as the gospel would make pardon depend on our behaviour:
The question here is not the full forgiveness we receive by believing the gospel. It is God's watchful, constant oversight of His children's ways. This has nothing at all to do with the poor sinner's need. It is plain that the gospel offers no forgiveness of sins on the condition that we forgive others. Grace gives remission of sins on faith in the Lord Jesus. But if you — a Christian — fail to walk in a forgiving spirit with others, God is displeased with you. You then lose your communion with Him, and He will not restore it until you truly judge yourself for the wrong.
"As we forgive" sets the measure, and our own forgiving is often held back:
Our own forgiveness of others sets the measure of the forgiveness we pray for — "as we forgive our debtors." But think what we are: our hearts are subtle, we hold things back without knowing it, and we often find it hard to give free, full and absolute forgiveness to those who have sinned against us. From this petition, then, we could never know whether we may rejoice in knowing the full pardon of our sins against God.
The clause is not a bargain offered to a hard heart. The ESV puts the forgiving in the past — "as we also have forgiven our debtors" — so it describes someone who has already let the offence go:
This is remarkable, because it assumes someone who already has a forgiving spirit. No one truly has this except the person God's grace has forgiven. And God does hold His children to this. How can a man who does not forgive another claim to enjoy the forgiveness of his own sins before God?
Under God's government, the way I treat others comes back to me:
Our attitude to others has a serious bearing on ourselves. This passage surely views forgiveness from the standpoint of God's government, and it is on the lines of government that the matter becomes very serious. Do I forgive? Then I can call on God to forgive me. Am I hard and unforgiving? I shall reap what I sow.
Commentators differ on how far this petition fits the believer. One answer turns on who is addressed:
The simple fact that it is addressed to the Father removes every difficulty. Those who plainly take the place of relationship are asking a Father for His forgiveness... These trespasses cost us communion, and bring chastening to restore us. We must forgive, if we are to be forgiven.
- Debt: Sin is a debt we cannot pay. God clears it because a Substitute bore the penalty, not because He waived the account.
- Family: The one praying already says "Father." A child is seeking his Father's face, not a sinner seeking pardon.
- Government: What is at stake is not eternity but communion. A Father watches His children, is grieved, chastens, and restores.
- Measure: "As we forgive" makes our treatment of others the gauge. An unforgiving child cannot walk happily with God.
- Fruit: The forgiving spirit is assumed, not bargained for. Only the forgiven can forgive, and God holds His children to it.
and lead us not into temptation, but save us from evil.
The last request of the Lord's prayer turns from bread and forgiveness to danger. Two questions press on any reader: why would God lead anyone into temptation, and is the familiar closing line about kingdom, power and glory part of the verse at all?
The word does not mean an invitation to sin. It means a full testing that brings out whatever is inside a person.
So it was right for the disciples, aware of their own powerlessness, to ask not to be led into circumstances that would try them so severely. No such prayer is or could be in the Bible as, Lead us not into sin; for this would be to impute moral evil to God. The temptation here was putting a person fully to the proof. If there were unjudged evil in the heart, it would come out, to his humiliation.
There is a difference between God leading us into a trial and our walking into one on our own initiative.
This is not temptation to sin. James says, "Let no one say when he is tempted, 'I am being tempted by God,' for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one." Satan tempts man to evil, and we have an evil nature that responds to it... God may lead us into trial, as He did Abraham. But the Lord said to Peter, "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation." If we push into trial on our own, we are bound to fall. But if the Lord leads us into it, He will sustain us.
Asking not to be tested might sound like doubting God's care. It is the opposite.
This cry will always suit us while we are in this world. We feel our utter weakness, and we know we could not stand for one moment in temptation if left to ourselves. There is no conflict between such a prayer and complete confidence in God. We will trust God in the same measure as we have learned that in our flesh there dwells no good thing. Afraid of ourselves, we shall always cry, Lead us not into temptation, and then long to be delivered from evil. This, indeed, was the request of the Lord Himself for His own — "I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one." (John 17:15.)
The second half of the petition asks for something different from the first. Commentators differ on whether it means evil in general or the evil one himself.
But deliver us from evil in general, if not from the evil one in particular. This was not the sifting, or temptation, prayed against in the clause before. Grace may put us through that for our good, as we see in Peter. This is the power of the enemy drawing us into sin against God. The proper desire was to be kept from the evil, or, if one fell, to be restored from it. Grace in no case fails, if a disciple sadly did.
Jesus went into the wilderness to face the tempter. He then taught His followers to pray the opposite for themselves.
Misguided men have sought the wilderness to escape the power of evil. Jesus sought it with the express intention of meeting the evil one. He alone was perfect within. He Himself was led up to meet the tempter, yet He taught His disciples to pray, "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil [or, the evil one]."
Everyone agrees the familiar ending does not belong in Luke's version of the prayer.
I will not go into the doxology that ends the prayer in the received text of Matthew. Everybody agrees in leaving it out of Luke, and it is well known that its authority, even in Matthew, is doubtful, to say the least. Probably it was an addition derived from church usage in the fourth century, or perhaps earlier.
Dennett adds that whether those words are Scripture or not, "they undoubtedly express truth that all Christians delight to acknowledge and to turn into praise."
Short as it is, the prayer covers the ground — and it was given at a particular point in God's dealings.
It takes into account both the divine interests and human necessities, physical and spiritual. It speaks of the realities of today, while looking onward to the final outcome of all the ways of God in the new heavens and the new earth... It was the Lord's gracious provision for believers who lived before redemption was accomplished, who were therefore not in the blessed condition of having their consciences once for all purged from sins.
- Proof, not sin. The prayer is not "keep me from sinning by Your hand" — God tempts no one. It asks not to be put through a sifting that would expose what is unjudged within.
- Weakness owned. We pray it because we could not stand a moment if left to ourselves. The more we distrust ourselves, the more we trust God.
- Entering versus being led. Walking into trial on our own ends in a fall. When God leads us into it, He sustains us.
- Deliverance sought. Behind the testing stands the enemy. The prayer asks to be kept from the evil, or, if we fall, to be restored.
- Christ's example reversed. He went into the wilderness to meet the tempter because He alone was perfect within; He taught us to ask not to go there.
For if ye forgive men their offences, your heavenly Father also will forgive you [yours],
The Lord had just taught His disciples to pray, "and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors." Now He goes back to that one request and explains it. His words raise a hard question. Does a Christian's standing before God depend on how he treats the person who wronged him?
The Lord is speaking here to people who already know God as their Father. That changes what "forgive" means in these verses.
Here we find an aspect of forgiveness that needs careful thought. It is not sinners speaking to God, but disciples — children speaking to their Father. The gospel tells the sinner of forgiveness full and free, because of the Saviour's blood. Nothing the sinner can do has anything to do with it. In Matthew 6:12 we have the Father's government of His family. That is an entirely different principle. He expects all His children to show a merciful spirit toward everybody. His own attitude toward people is to shape ours. "He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust" (Matthew 5:45). Those who do not cultivate this generous spirit of grace cannot walk happily with the Father.
So what does an unforgiving believer lose? The answer turns on which kind of forgiveness is in view.
Verses 14 and 15 show us that He is not speaking of eternal forgiveness, but governmental. If a believer forgives others, he may count on the Father's forgiveness. When he honestly confesses his failure, the Father restores him to the joy of communion with Himself. If he does not forgive others, he cannot enjoy communion with the Father. His very attitude forbids it.
Mixing this daily forgiveness up with the once-for-all work of the cross damages both. One commentator sets them side by side, using the picture of washing defiled feet.
Sin that we indulge does interrupt communion with our God and Father. It needs the advocacy of Christ to cleanse defiled feet, by the washing of water with the word. His blood keeps its atoning power untouched. But the Spirit applies the word in answer to Christ on high, and the one who sinned repents in dust and ashes… We need and have both. We cannot do without the water from first to last, just as we have had the blood once for all. Whoever ignores, or worse still denies, this twofold provision of grace undermines redemption and muddles the truth of God.
The refusal to forgive is not one fault among many. It is a reversal of the whole ground the believer stands on.
Now the Lord singles out an unforgiving spirit as intolerable to our Father in His daily government of His sons. And no wonder. It is to go back from grace to law, from Christ to wretched self. So, as in the prayer, He urges grace toward those who may have hurt us, however painfully. He urges love too, and He commends it to us with a tender warning. Where love is missing in practice, that is hateful in His eyes.
These words sit inside the Lord's teaching on prayer. A nursed grievance and a praying life cannot run together.
If we do not forgive, we are not forgiven as children. Communion with God our Father is suspended, and we grieve His Spirit within us. To carry on as though all were well is presumption. It is insincere, and it displeases God. True prayer is communion with God. It is speaking to Him with the confidence of a heart that does not condemn us. "And whatever we ask we receive from Him, because we keep His commandments and do what pleases Him" (1 John 3:22).
Forgiveness here is a habit to grow, not a feeling to wait for. Failing to practise it costs us something in ourselves.
We who profess to be Christians have a very important lesson to learn from this passage. It is the urgent need to cultivate a forgiving spirit. If we fail to act in grace, we are in danger of losing the sense of grace in our own souls. How dreadful when a man forgiven all his sins drags a fellow sinner before the judge over a little money!
- Grace received. The sinner's pardon rests on the blood of Christ alone, and on nothing the sinner does. That question is already settled for everyone the Lord is addressing here.
- Grace governed. These verses deal with the Father's daily government of His own children. Commentators call this governmental forgiveness, not eternal forgiveness.
- Grace refused. An unforgiving spirit is a move backwards, from grace to law, from Christ to self.
- Grace forfeited. The cost is not lost salvation. It is broken communion, a grieved Spirit, and prayer offered as though all were well.
- Grace practised. The remedy is to cultivate a forgiving spirit. Fail to act in grace, and we risk losing our own sense of the grace shown to us.
but if ye do not forgive men their offences, neither will your Father forgive your offences.
Jesus had just taught His disciples to pray, "forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors." Now He returns to that one line and presses it twice — first as a promise, then as a warning. The question is obvious: does entry into God's family depend on how we treat those who wrong us?
The people listening were already followers of Jesus. That fact shapes how we read the warning.
The forgiveness spoken of in verses 14 and 15 is connected with the debts of verse 12. The heavenly Father governs His children in holiness, and an unforgiving spirit comes under His discipline. If someone wrongs us and we refuse to forgive, we will miss God's governmental forgiveness. This is not a question of forgiveness for eternity. The Lord was speaking to disciples, and for them that great matter was already settled.
Here "governmental" means the Father's day-by-day rule over His own family. Scripture keeps two kinds of forgiveness apart, and they work on different timescales.
There is a difference between God's forgiveness in the sense of not counting sin against us, as in Romans 4, and governmental forgiveness — for us, the Father's. Matthew 6:14-15 speaks in a general way about a state of soul, so it might apply to both. But the difference is very real. Justifying forgiveness (unknown in the Old Testament) is complete once and for ever, as Hebrews 9 and 10 show — "no longer any consciousness of sins". Fatherly forgiveness, though, we may need daily. We are not really called to ask for it. We confess our sins, and we get it.
A refusal to forgive is not one fault among many. It reverses the very principle the disciple lives by.
Now the Lord names one thing our Father will not tolerate in His daily government of His sons: an unforgiving spirit. And no wonder. It means going back from grace to law, from Christ to wretched self. So, as in the prayer, He urges grace toward those who wrong us, however deeply they hurt us.
What is lost is not sonship but the enjoyment of it. The closed heart shuts its own door.
Verses 14 and 15 show us that He is not speaking of eternal forgiveness, but governmental. If a believer forgives others, he can count on the Father's forgiveness. When he honestly confesses his failure, the Father restores him to the joy of communion with Himself. If he does not forgive others, he cannot truly enjoy that communion. His own attitude forbids it.
There is a slower damage too. Refusing grace to others dulls our own sense of the grace God gave us.
Without doubt, we who profess to be Christians have an important lesson to learn from this scripture. We urgently need to cultivate a forgiving spirit. If we fail to act in grace, we are in danger of losing the sense of grace in our own souls.
The wrongs we brood over often look smaller in the cold light of day. And the grudge hurts the one who holds it.
You who keep up your resentment, and brood over the offences (often exaggerated if not imaginary) of others, beware. If that is you, then though you are a Christian, you completely fail in the duty that should mark you, as unlike Christ as you can be. Need one say that you are as unhappy as you are hard? Does it mean nothing to your proud spirit — and pride like this degrades a Christian — that "neither will your Father forgive your trespasses"? Do not trifle with such a bad and proud state. Stop grieving the Holy Spirit of God who sealed you. Do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.
Forgiving is not squeezed out of us by threat. It is learned by looking at how God dealt with us.
As one brought to God, I have learned what God is in His ways of grace (Ephesians 4:31-32): "Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." Did God come and shout against you in justice? He sent His Son to give Himself for you, and has forgiven you. There is a man who wronged me. I am going to forgive him, as God forgave me. And if I am near enough to God to do it, I will show out what we have been learning. That is the joy of our souls.
- Family, not entry. Jesus spoke to disciples whose eternal standing was already settled. What is at stake is the Father's dealing with His children day by day.
- Two forgivenesses. Forgiveness that justifies is complete once and for ever. A Father's forgiveness is a daily need, and honest confession receives it.
- Grace reversed. An unforgiving spirit is a step back from grace to law, from Christ to self — which is why the Father will not let it pass.
- Communion blocked. The hard heart forbids the very restoration it needs, and it loses its own sense of grace.
- The cure. Look first at what God in Christ forgave you. Forgiving others then flows from that, and becomes a joy instead of a duty.
And when ye fast, be not as the hypocrites, downcast in countenance; for they disfigure their faces, so that they may appear fasting to men verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
Fasting is the third act of righteousness the Lord examines in this chapter. Like giving and praying, it can aim at two very different audiences. The question He presses is not whether His disciples fast, but whose eyes they fast for.
Commentators note a deliberate order in Matthew 6. Each act faces a different direction, and fasting turns inward.
In verses 1 to 4 we have seen righteousness toward men (including giving); in verses 5 to 15 prayer toward God; now in verses 16 to 18 the subject is fasting. This one faces self. It is personal self-denial, for true self-denial is personal through and through, not for display at all… It might be done so that a person can give his own time and energy to some particular service for the Lord. If so, why should I want anyone else to know it besides the Lord?
Why does prayer stand in the middle?
Prayer holds the middle place between giving to the poor and fasting. It is the godly and holy basis that guards the other two, binding them up with faith against mere outward form.
Going without food is the body agreeing with what the soul already feels.
I believe there is a real value in fasting that few of us know much about. Suppose that on special occasions calling for personal prayer, someone joined fasting to that prayer. I have no doubt he would feel the blessing of it. Fasting expresses a humbling of spirit… In fasting the body shows its sympathy with what the spirit is passing through. It is a way of expressing our desire to be low before God, in the attitude of humiliation.
Behind the act lies a verdict on self.
In fasting the Lord touches that inward putting to death which expresses the realization of what man is in the sight of God… Fasting treats the body's earthly desires as if they did not exist. It does not minister to self — an unnatural condition which implies a fallen nature. You can do nothing with it but leave it out.
Their gloomy look was not something sorrow forced on them. They arranged it for an audience.
The hypocrites put on a sad face to look as godly as possible, and to make people see how earnest they are. But as we have already seen in verses 2 and 5, our God and Father gives us no reward when we seek it through a mere show of godliness and recognition from men.
Israel's history shows how far the abuse can go.
In fact, in Israel, where the outward religion of the Pharisees marked the nation, people turned fasting into its very opposite. They made it accredit self instead of discrediting self. It brought self forward instead of setting it aside… The Lord puts an end to this. He makes fasting a thing to be done before the Father and not before men — before the eyes of Him who sees in secret.
The Lord does not say the hypocrites get nothing. He says they get what they aimed at, and the account is then closed.
Three times over the Lord says of the mere formalist, "They have received their reward." Their reward is the approval and praise of their fellows. This they have. It is all in the present, and there is nothing more to come. The one who gives or prays or fasts unknown to men but known to God will be rewarded openly in the day to come.
The verse begins "when you fast," not "if" — yet He lays down no rule about it.
The Lord does not so much command fasting as bring it, like prayer, under the Christian principle of having to do with our Father in secret. It falls under the individual life of faith. Yet He does sanction and approve of it when practised in that way… He also hints at its value for spiritual power. Godly men have always felt, and must feel, how fitting it is for humbling the soul before God, when public or private need called for humiliation.
The prophets applied the same test long before.
Fasting is not merely external. Isaiah asks, "Is it to bow down his head like a reed, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him?" If fasting is just a matter of food, posture and dress, it is pure hypocrisy. Sadly, there is a great deal of this.
- Self. Giving faces others, prayer faces God, fasting faces self. It is self-denial, and self-denial is private by nature.
- Secret. The Lord neither commands nor forbids it. He moves it out of public view, under the eye of the Father who sees in secret.
- Sincere. The body joins what the spirit already feels. Strip that away and only food, posture and clothing are left — and that is hypocrisy.
- Self-display. The Pharisees turned the one act meant to discredit self into a display of it — the very opposite of its purpose.
- Settled. Applause is a real reward, paid in full now, with nothing left owing. Hidden fasting waits for a reward given openly in the day to come.
But *thou*, [when] fasting, anoint thy head and wash thy face,
Fasting had become a public performance. An unwashed, downcast look told everyone what was going on. Against that, the Lord tells the one who fasts to keep to the ordinary routine of grooming. So what did anointing and washing mean, and why hide an act of self-denial?
This instruction closes a set of three. Giving to the poor, prayer and fasting all come under the same heading that opens the chapter.
We still have to weigh our Lord's words on fasting. They are the third part of His teaching on "righteousness" (not "alms") in the first verse of the chapter. Prayer holds the middle place between giving and fasting. It is the godly and holy ground that guards the other two, tying them to faith and keeping them from empty form.
Oil on the head was not a religious rite here. It belonged to normal daily care, and dropping it was how people signalled grief.
The word for anointing the body after washing is commonly used for the eastern practice of anointing the body, or parts of it, for comfort, appearance, friendliness, healing, or burial. For everyday grooming compare Ruth 3:3; 2 Samuel 12:20; 2 Chronicles 28:15; Matthew 6:17. Skipping it was a sign of mourning: 2 Samuel 14:2; Daniel 10:3.
So the command comes to this: look like any other day.
Behind the plain appearance something real is going on. Fasting deals with self, not just with food.
Fasting means setting self aside. Not only the self tied to the evil within, but the claims of nature itself are set aside, so that we may have to do with God. It recognises that there are spiritual matters in hand of deeper importance than even the body's rightful claims… He is "anointed" and "washed." His heart is right and his life is right. He does not look "gloomy," because the joy of Heaven fills his heart here on earth, and the Father who sees in secret rewards him.
Commentators link it with special times of prayer, and with the body sharing what the spirit feels:
If someone joined fasting to prayer on the special occasions that call for particular personal prayer, I have no doubt the blessing of it would be felt. Fasting is one of those things in which the body shares in what the spirit is going through. It is a way of expressing our desire to be low before God, in an attitude of humbling ourselves.
An act meant to lower self can raise it instead. That is what had happened in Israel.
In fact, in Israel, where the outward religion of the Pharisees marked the nation, fasting was twisted into its very opposite. It was used to commend self instead of discrediting self. It pushed self forward instead of setting self aside… He puts an end to this by making fasting something done before the Father and not before people: before the eyes of Him who sees in secret.
Sincere people are not exempt, which is why the instruction is so specific:
But the flesh can take advantage even of what is meant to put the body down. So the Lord tells us to take steps not to appear to others to be fasting, rather than allow any display. A true Christian would shrink from putting on a false appearance. Still, the devil would trick him into it, unless he watches himself closely before God.
Notice what the verse does not say. It regulates the manner of fasting, not whether you must fast.
As already mentioned, the Lord Jesus neither gives a commandment to fast, nor does He forbid it here. He leaves fasting as a personal exercise of the heart but gives the warning not to do it in a hypocritical manner (as with giving alms and praying).
If it is done at all, the manner should match the freedom:
At least, it should not make me miserable looking, as though it was a burden to miss a meal! If fasting is willingly done, it should certainly be cheerfully done. If done honestly for the Father's glory, the Father will reward it.
Hiding it from people does not hide it from God. He does not say when or how He will reward.
The Lord Jesus does not mention when and how the Father will reward, but we know that God rewards those who seek Him (Hebrews 11:6).
- Third: Giving, prayer and fasting form one set under "righteousness." Prayer stands in the middle and guards the other two from becoming empty form.
- Ordinary: Anointing the head and washing the face were everyday grooming. Skipping them was how people showed mourning. Fasting should leave no visible trace.
- Self: Fasting sets aside even the body's rightful claims, so the soul can have to do with God. Yet the same act can be twisted to promote self instead.
- Free: The Lord neither commands fasting nor forbids it here. He leaves it a personal exercise and only rules out doing it for an audience.
- Secret: The Father sees what people cannot. He rewards, but He does not say when or how.
so that thou mayest not appear fasting unto men, but to thy Father who is in secret; and thy Father who sees in secret shall render [it] to thee.
Fasting is the last of three examples the Lord gives of practising righteousness. Giving and prayer came first, and all three end the same way — with a Father who sees what no one else can. The question the verse forces is simple: when nobody can tell that you are fasting, what is left of it?
The instruction sounds strange. Someone going without food must wash and groom so that nothing shows. One writer explains what fasting does for the spirit, and why the Lord guards it from display.
I believe there is a real value in fasting that few of us know much about. If someone joined fasting to prayer on the occasions that call for special personal prayer, I have no doubt he would feel the blessing of it. There is humbling of spirit expressed in it... Fasting is one of those things where the body shows its sympathy with what the spirit is going through. It is a way of expressing our desire to be low before God, in an attitude of humiliation. But the flesh can take advantage even of what is meant to keep the body in check. So the Lord tells us to take steps not to appear to others to be fasting, rather than to allow any display.
The danger is that the very act meant to lower self becomes the thing that lifts it. That reversal had already happened in Israel.
In Israel, fasting was abused to its very opposite. It was made to accredit self, instead of discrediting it. It brought it into prominence, instead of setting it aside... He puts an end to this by making it a thing to be before the Father and not before men: before the eyes of Him who sees in secret. As to the practice of it, He does not really decide anything... That the true life is one that is to be lived before God is the main point upon which He is here insisting.
There is a positive side too. Real fasting is not a technique; it grows out of prayer.
There is a deep moral connection between true prayer and fasting, as all spiritual minds have felt. Its blessedness is this: a Christian may be so taken up with God and His things that he forgets the needs of the body for the time. And even when those needs press on him, he may be so filled with God that he can deny the natural in the power of what is spiritual. Such a state, it is needless to say, is far from the eyes of other people.
The Lord ends all three examples with this same line — after giving, after prayer, and here. One writer notes that He speaks to each person one by one.
"Your Father who sees in secret will reward you" (4, 6, 18). What encouragement! and at the same time, what a wholesome reminder!... He said "your Father" to each person one by one, not to a crowd, pointing to the tie of birth formed between each true disciple and God. Each can say, "He is my Father." And if he is alone on earth for any reason, with no one here to turn to, that eye is still looking down on him — the eye of his Father who sees in secret.
Some translations end the verse with the word "openly." One writer holds that the promise stands complete without it.
So it is not a question of open reward, in verses 1 and 18 (leave out "openly") — "Your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you" is enough. "I know your works."
When does that reward come? Another writer leaves the timing with God.
The Lord Jesus does not mention when and how the Father will reward, but we know that God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him (Heb. 11:6).
What you build where no one watches is what holds up where everyone does.
The real source of strength in faith lies in the hidden relationship with our God and Father. Someone once said: "We cannot confess the Lord publicly if we have not been in secret communion with Him on our knees."
- Hidden. Wash and groom so the fast does not show. The aim is that no one sees it but the Father.
- Humbled. Fasting lets the body share the spirit's desire to be low before God. It collapses the moment it props up self instead of setting self aside.
- Beheld. The Father's eye is on each disciple, one by one. It rests on him even when no one else is there.
- Rewarded. The Father's reward is certain, but the Lord does not say when or how it will come.
- Real. How often to fast is left open. What is settled is that the true life is lived before God — and hidden time with Him is where public strength comes from.
Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust spoils, and where thieves dig through and steal;
Jesus is teaching His disciples on the mountain, and He turns to what they do with money and possessions. Two questions follow at once: what is forbidden, and does it touch savings and providing for a family?
These words are not general advice to the world. One writer points back to who was listening, and to what earth and heaven are each like:
Matthew 6:19 is surely addressed to the disciples of Christ (see Matthew 5:1). And how much we need to pay attention to such instruction. You will notice that our blessed Lord is setting out here the moral characteristics of earth and heaven. There is no such thing as moth, or rust, or thief in heaven. On earth there is.
The warning does not condemn every blessing. It draws a line between blessing God gives and blessing a person chases:
The warning of the Lord Jesus — first of all directed to His disciples — does not refer to the blessing of God we may desire. It refers to something completely different: the greedy striving after wealth and earthly security. We read about this already in Proverbs 23:4-5: "Do not toil to acquire wealth; be discerning enough to desist. When your eyes light on it, it is gone, for suddenly it sprouts wings, flying like an eagle toward heaven."
The destroyers Jesus names are small and ordinary:
Earthly wealth and earthly treasures are passing and therefore very insecure. This is what the Lord Jesus sets before His disciples here. The moth, a small, insignificant creature, can ruin the most costly materials in a very short time. Rust can destroy the things that seem most durable and most valuable, and thieves can steal it all at once. In the last century, war, flight and inflation taught many people — including children of God — that their apparent earthly securities could vanish like vapour.
The Lord warns that your heart follows your treasure. That closes off a common excuse:
Child of God, where is your treasure? Is it Christ in heaven? If so, you are happy! If it is wealth or distinction, the Lord warns, your heart will be there too. Many hold a fond notion that directly contradicts Christ: that the struggle for riches can swallow up a whole life while the heart is not in it but true to Him. What can be more false and deceiving! It is not for lack of solemn warning that a Christian can stray like this. What we are set on and live for from day to day proves our character and our state.
Death lies on everything here. That makes one kind of treasure sure and the other not:
Here our Lord contrasts the heavenly with the earthly, the spiritual with the natural, the things of time with those of eternity. His estimate of these is perfect, and He would have us governed by it. The heart follows what it prizes most, and if that is the things of earth, how great the loss! In this world, where death lies on everything, people set up many artificial arrangements to give security. But what is heavenly and eternal needs no insurance societies — eternal things are the sure things.
What you hold is your Master's, not your own. But there is a way to make it truly yours:
As to things here, you have your Master's goods. If you hoard them up here, you surely lose them hereafter, and turn them into accusers. On the other hand, you have gracious permission to transfer them really to your own account, by laying them up where your treasure is — "in heaven."
This does not cancel ordinary duty. One writer draws a line between honest provision and hoarding:
We believe the Christian is bound to provide for his family, day by day — bound to educate his children and put them in the way of earning an honest living. The New Testament commands all this so plainly that no one can question it. But these sacred duties leave the question of hoarding and speculation untouched. We do not believe in these at all. We believe that hoarding covers the soul with rust, and speculation fills the heart and mind with care and anxiety.
- Where it's said — Jesus speaks to His disciples, not to the world as general advice.
- Where the fault lies — not in wealth God gives, but in the greedy striving after wealth and earthly security.
- Where it fails — moth, rust and thieves do their work on earth. Heaven has none of them.
- Where your heart goes — the heart follows what it prizes, so what you live for day by day proves your real state.
- Where to send it — hoard your Master's goods here and you lose them, and they accuse you. Lay them up above and they go to your own account.
but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust spoils, and where thieves do not dig through nor steal;
The Sermon on the Mount turns to a simple question: where do you keep what you value? Jesus points to a bank no thief can reach. Two questions follow. What is a treasure in heaven, and how does anyone put something there?
One writer marks the exact wording. On earth, loss is not just a possibility.
"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust [not merely can, but do] destroy and where thieves [not merely can, but do] break in and steal." You will notice that our blessed Lord is setting out in this passage the moral characteristics of earth and heaven. There is no such thing as moth, or rust, or thief in heaven. On earth there is.
The picture sharpens once you know the insect. The moth goes for the clothes nobody is using.
This is the clothes-moth, whose destructive damage is well known. In the East people kept garments in large quantities, as property and as gifts. Naaman the Syrian, for example, brought "changes of garments" as a present to Elisha, and Gehazi obtained two of them. Moths do not attack the clothing that is worn; they lay their eggs in what is laid up, and there the young find their food. From this the lesson is drawn to lay up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust can corrupt or destroy.
Jesus gives a command, so there must be a way to obey it. One writer points to His words to a rich young man, and to Paul's charge to rich believers.
But how is it possible to lay up such treasures in heaven? In Matthew 19:21 the Lord Jesus says to the rich young man: "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven." Paul writes something similar to Timothy: "As for the rich in this present age, charge them... to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life" (1 Tim. 6:17-19). These passages contain a simple, unmistakable teaching. Take someone who wants to follow the Lord. He does not treat what he owns on earth as "treasure." He uses it according to God's will and for His honour in doing good. In this way he is gaining other and better treasures. He does not become poorer but richer in the eyes of God!
There is also a question of ownership. What a believer holds on earth belongs to his Master.
As to things here, you have your Master's goods. If you hoard them up here, you will certainly lose them later, and turn them into accusers. On the other hand, you are graciously permitted to transfer them, really and truly, to your own account. You do it by laying them up where your treasure is — "in heaven."
Verse 21 states a fact, not an ideal, and that closes off a common excuse.
Let us note carefully that the Lord says, "where your treasure is, there your heart will be." He does not say "ought to be," but "will." We cannot escape by telling ourselves that our hearts are not attached to what we are busy piling up. Why then accumulate it? We would say of a man heaping up sticks and straws and rubbish that he was mad. Yet to him the worthless pile is valuable. The proof is that he keeps piling it up. Who would not change worthless paper into good security? This we are privileged to do, while treasure in heaven will keep the heart there, and draw the feet on to where the heart is.
Where is this treasure kept? One writer connects it with Christ Himself, and with where He now is.
The believer's eyes are to be far above the world's level. His true treasure is not material. It is of eternal value, and nothing can corrupt it or steal it. Today we know that treasure is closely bound up with Christ Himself, raised from the dead and seated in the heavenly places. Is our heart not there too? As we value the things that are eternal, and live and act in view of this, we shall be laying up treasure in heaven.
Commentators differ over how much of this section was aimed at Israel and how much at the church. One reading holds both together.
Here we have the remedy for it all: a word which, if it could be spoken to a Jewish remnant in view of millennial blessing, is so fully and clearly our own as Christians that the natural thing is to take it as if it had no other application. Yet those who are to inherit the earth, in the day all this looks forward to, will have great need to lay up their treasures in heaven, in the care of Him who is coming to give reward to His saints.
- Storehouse. On earth, moth, rust and thieves are not risks. They are facts. Heaven has none of the three.
- Stored. The moth feeds on the garment nobody wears, so the very act of hoarding is what invites the loss.
- Sent. Treasure moves upward when you give it away. What you use for God and for the poor moves from your Master's account to your own.
- Set. The heart does not stay behind. Jesus says it will follow the treasure. So no one can hoard on earth and still claim to love heaven.
- Secured. The treasure is bound up with Christ Himself, raised and seated above. Value what is eternal and live for it, and you are laying up treasure in heaven.
for where thy treasure is, there will be also thy heart.
The Lord has just set two storehouses side by side: one that moth, rust and thieves can reach, and one they cannot. Here He gives the reason the choice matters — your heart goes wherever your treasure goes.
The wording is worth pressing. The Lord is not telling us where our hearts should be. He is telling us where they will be.
Notice what the Lord says: "where your treasure is, there your heart will be." He does not say "ought to be." He says "will." We cannot escape by assuring ourselves that our hearts are not tied to what we are busy piling up. Why, then, pile it up? We would say of a man heaping up sticks and straws and rubbish that he was insane. But to him the worthless heap is valuable — and you can tell that for sure, because he keeps adding to it.
Many keep two accounts. They spend their lives chasing money and still claim their hearts belong elsewhere. This verse closes that door.
Child of God, where is your treasure? Is it Christ in heaven? If so, you are happy. If it is wealth or distinction, the Lord warns, there also will be your heart. Many cling to a fond idea that directly contradicts Christ: that a man can pour his life into the struggle for riches while his heart is not there at all but true to Him. Nothing could be more false or more misleading. It is not for lack of solemn warning that a Christian can go astray like this. What we are set on and live for from day to day proves our character and our state.
If the heart lands on its treasure, what is worth being one? The answer here is a Person, not a possession.
The believer's eyes are to be far above the world's level. His true treasure is not material but of eternal value, and nothing can corrupt it or steal it. Today we know that this treasure is bound up with Christ Himself, raised from the dead and seated in the heavenly places. Is not our heart there too? As we value the things that are eternal, and live and act in view of this, we shall be laying up treasure in heaven.
"Treasure in heaven" is not a vague hope. Other passages tie it to what a person does with what he owns.
But how is it possible to lay up such treasures in heaven? In Matthew 19:21 the Lord Jesus says to the rich young man, "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven." Paul writes something similar to Timothy. He is to charge the rich in this world to do good, to be rich in good works, generous and ready to share. In this way they store up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life (1 Timothy 6:17-19). These passages teach one simple, unmistakable thing. Anyone who wants to follow the Lord, and does not treat his earthly possessions as his "treasure" but uses them as God wills and for His honour in doing good, is gaining other and better treasures. He does not become poorer. He becomes richer in God's eyes.
Since the heart follows the treasure, the way to change the heart is not to strain at it directly.
We should never judge the prayers of others harshly. Still, people sometimes pray that our affections may be set on things above, and this is not possible. It is "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." A husband does not pray that he may love his wife when he already loves her. What we should desire is different. We want the grace and beauty and excellence of Christ to have such power over our souls that our hearts are drawn out to Him, in the place where He is.
Elsewhere the Lord follows these same words at once with a call to be ready for His coming. The order is not accidental.
It is always true that where our treasure is, our hearts will be also… Then, as a result of that statement, the Lord says, "Stay dressed for action and keep your lamps burning." I will say at once that if your treasure is on earth you will not be dressed for action, and your lamp will not be burning. It is impossible. You must have your treasure in heaven if you are to be found waiting for the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ.
- Diagnosis — the Lord says the heart will be where the treasure is, not that it ought to be. What you pile up shows what you value.
- Deception — this verse denies that a life spent chasing riches can keep its heart true to Christ.
- Treasure — the believer's treasure is not material but bound up with Christ risen and seated in heaven.
- Deposit — you store treasure above by using what you own for God's honour and for the poor. The giver grows richer in God's eyes.
- Direction — you cannot command your affections into place. A heart drawn by Christ above is the one found dressed for action, lamp burning, waiting for Him.
The lamp of the body is the eye; if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body will be light
Matthew 6:22 sits between the call to store up treasure in heaven and the warning that no one can serve two masters. Jesus makes the matter personal: everything turns on the state of one eye. So what kind of eye does He mean, and why does it decide whether a whole life is bright or dark?
Jesus begins with a picture from the body. One writer draws out what a lamp does and does not do.
The eye is the lamp of the body; not the light, but what holds and fixes the light. The light comes from elsewhere: the organ of perception does not create the light, but receives it. For us the light is in the Word alone. It is the Word that judges and makes things plain. But there must be spiritual reception, and for that, a capacity to receive. With the heart set on things above, the eye is single and clear: God is before it, and in His light we see light. Then the whole body becomes full of light: the hands and feet have plenty of it for work and walk.
So the fault never lies with the light.
The question is not about the light, which is perfect, but about "the eye." A person's spiritual condition has a great deal to do with whether the disciples see rightly. How much we take in, how well we discern, our judgment and our practice all depend on the state of our affections.
The ESV calls the eye "healthy." Older translations read "single," and the writers here work from that older wording. One writer starts with what the word means literally.
It means literally "one-foldedness" or "simplex structure." ... So the Scriptural meaning of the word is that there should be no hidden motive and no double-dealing in a Christian's actions. He should be what people call "transparently honest." The Lord Jesus Christ gave the perfect example of this, as He did of everything else. What was true in Him while He was here should now be true in the Christian.
So how does an eye become single? One writer names the one object that does it.
Christ truly the object before one gives singleness of eye; and where He is simply and exclusively the "one thing" before the soul, the whole body is light. Difficulties vanish. The will of God becomes quite clear. I am surprised and ashamed to have had doubts here and uncertainty there.
One writer ties the single eye to both the treasure and the masters.
If we really know the Father in heaven, we shall find our treasure in heaven, and there our heart will be; and we have only to have the single eye to see this, and to see all else clearly. Then too our bodies become full of light: that is, we become luminous ourselves. We shall either be dominated by God or by mammon, for we cannot serve two masters.
The promise can also be read in reverse, as a test.
The great point in verse 22 is to have the single eye. It is a testing verse. Suppose I am distracted and in uncertainty about anything. Does not this tell me my eye is not single? If I want partly to please myself, and partly to please the Lord, I have not a single eye. But if I have a single eye for a single object, it will make my path easier as I go along.
Another writer meets the case where God's will stays unclear.
In a long and active life, God in His love does not always show us His will at once. He does this so that we learn our dependence when we are inclined to do our own will. Still, "if your eye is single, your whole body will be full of light." So it is certain that when the whole body is not full of light, the eye is not single. You will say, "A poor consolation that." I reply, "A rich one to those whose only desire is to have the eye single, and to walk with God."
One writer applied the verse to a woman unsure whether taking a discount from a supplier was honest.
We should not put our hand to a single thing which would not bear the strictest scrutiny... Can she with a good conscience take the discount from the person who supplies her with the things? Should it be called "discount" or "bribe"? "If your eye is single, your whole body will be full of light."
- Lamp, not light — the eye holds and fixes light it never produced; the light comes from the Word.
- Single eye — the ESV's "healthy" eye is a single one: no hidden motive, no double-dealing, as in Christ.
- One object — when Christ alone fills the view, difficulties vanish. God's will becomes clear.
- Two masters — treasure in heaven keeps the eye single. The other master is mammon.
- Reverse the test — when the body is not full of light, the eye is not single. Start looking there.
but if thine eye be wicked, thy whole body will be dark. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great the darkness!
The Lord has just told His hearers where to store up treasure. Now He turns from the treasure to the eye that looks at it. The picture is simple: a body is either lit or dark, depending on its own eye. But it raises a hard question. What happens when the light inside a person has gone out?
The eye in this picture does not produce anything. It takes in what shines from outside, and its condition decides how much gets through.
The eye is the lamp of the body; not the light, but what holds and fixes the light. The light comes from elsewhere: the eye that sees does not create the light; it receives it. For us the light is in the Word alone. The Word judges and makes things plain. But there must be spiritual reception, and for this a capacity to receive, which the apostle places in the heart and its condition (Eph. 1:18). With the heart set on things above, the eye is single and clear: God is before it, and in His light we see light. Then the whole body becomes full of light: the hands and feet have plenty of it for work and walk.
The Lord uses the same expression in other places. Read alongside them, a bad eye points to something wrong in the heart, not to weak sight.
The Lord Jesus mentions the expression "an evil eye" in other connections also (see Matt. 20:15; Mark 7:22). There the evil eye is the visible proof of an envious, jealous heart. If envy, pride or other evil things fill our heart, then our whole life is, so to speak, clouded with darkness. We rob ourselves of every true joy in the Lord. We also lose our discernment about ourselves and about what is around us.
The verse does not describe a person who never had light. It describes light that a person has mishandled. That is why the closing words are so severe.
But if the eye is evil, perverting what light it receives, there will be no light whatever in the body. The light that comes in is cleverly turned into darkness — a darkness that is "how great!" No one may treat God's truth lightly. If someone twists it, it can plunge him into a state worse than plain ignorance.
One writer goes further. He sees God Himself at work here. God does not only let a person stumble; He turns the light itself into darkness.
What a contrast between a man with a single eye and a man who does not act on the light God has given him! The one is a light-bearer for others; the other is a stumbling-block in the way. We know nothing more solemn than God acting in judgment, turning our light into darkness, because we have refused to act on the light He was pleased to give.
Commentators differ over whom the Lord has in view. Some read the bad eye as the state of a person not yet born of God. Religious background makes no difference to it.
The Lord is not dealing here with redemption. He is dealing with the need of a new nature — or else with the moral evil found where a person is not born of God. The "eye" shows what the nature is, inside as well as outside. This is man's condition unless grace renews him. In this all-important respect the Jew, judged by the light in our Lord Jesus, was no better off than the Gentile.
Others read it as a warning aimed straight at those who already have the light and fail to use it.
But light rejected becomes darkness, and how great the darkness! Truth given, light flashed out from the Word and not used and acted upon, leads into the grossest darkness. (This is the deplorable state of thousands of believers.)
If a divided heart is the trouble, the cure is one object filling the view. The change shows up at once in everyday choices.
When Christ Himself is truly the object before a person, the eye is single. Where He alone is the "one thing" before the soul, the whole body is light. Difficulties vanish. The will of God becomes quite clear. I am surprised and ashamed to have had doubts here and uncertainty there.
- Receive — the eye holds light; it never makes it. The light comes from God's Word, and the state of the heart decides how much gets in.
- Divide — envy, pride and other evil in the heart show up in the eye. They cloud the whole life and cost us both joy and discernment.
- Pervert — refused light does not simply fade. It turns into darkness, and leaves a person worse off than plain ignorance.
- Darken — God Himself can turn our light into darkness when we will not act on what He gives. Believers are not exempt.
- Simplify — the way back is one object. When Christ alone fills the view, doubts clear and the whole body is light.
No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and will love the other, or he will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
For this cause I say unto you, Do not be careful about your life, what ye should eat and what ye should drink; nor for your body what ye should put on. Is not the life more than food, and the body than raiment?
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Look at the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, nor reap, nor gather into granaries, and your heavenly Father nourishes them. Are *ye* not much more excellent than they?
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But which of you by carefulness can add to his growth one cubit?
In the middle of the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord answers worry with a question, not a promise. He asks what anxiety has ever added to a life, and commentators draw from His question both a humbling and a comfort.
The force of the question lies in how small the gain is. Even that, man cannot produce:
Nor does the Lord spare them the humbling proof of how little the anxiety of man achieves. "Which of you by anxiety can add to his stature one cubit?" It was a very small thing, though some would count it a very great addition. Yet even for this, how powerless man is! Why then be anxious about a garment?
If worry cannot manage the small thing, it cannot manage anything:
The Lord asked if we can add a cubit (18 inches) to our physical height by worrying. If our anxious thoughts cannot change even the small matters, what is the sense of anxiety about anything? Worry only distresses us, and often others too. It can change nothing. Why not then be calm and at peace, trusting the Lord? He has certainly always proven faithful.
The ESV speaks of adding "a single hour to his span of life." Older translations read "add one cubit to his stature," and the writers below use that wording. Commentators differ on what the cubit measures. Some read it as bodily height. Others read it as the length of a life, and one writer holds that both work:
Verse 27: "A cubit" (18 inches) is a good bit to add to one's height, but some think the point is not so much one's height as the length of one's life. He has numbered our steps, and we cannot take a step beyond that number; and that would correspond with a cubit, I think. Of course either is true.
Either way, the point stands. One writer adds that the gain would bring no profit anyway:
No one can change anything by his own strength or worry. That is true of his height, as in Luke 19:3, and of his age, as in John 9:21 and Hebrews 11:11, where the original uses the same expression. And it would not be of any profit either.
Our weakness carries its own argument:
The human helplessness that we feel has its own instruction. All one's anxiety cannot add a cubit to the stature; and how much else there is where we depend completely on the will of another! Why not, then, leave all things to Him to whom we have to leave so much, and who clothes the perishing lilies of the field with a glory greater than Solomon's? The weakness of a man's faith is the only really sorrowful weakness, after all.
Worry is not just useless. It costs us:
We gain nothing by our care. By indulging in it we only make ourselves unfit for seeking the kingdom of God. And by our unbelief we place a barrier in the way of His acting for us. It is always true of us, "He could there do no mighty work, because of their unbelief." Unbelief is the great hindrance to the display of God's mighty works on our behalf. If we take our affairs into our own hands, it is clear that we do not want God.
The same writer names one more cost. God may leave us with the results of our own planning:
We gain nothing by our anxiety and planning; we only shut out God, and that is no gain. God justly leaves us to reap the fruits of our own schemes.
Set our weakness beside our Father's power, and confidence follows:
We are helpless, unable to add a cubit to our height, or to dress ourselves like the grass of the field. Our Father has infinite wisdom and power, and cares for the humblest creatures of His hand. We may therefore have absolute confidence in His loving care for us.
- Small test. The Lord picks the smallest gain — one cubit — and shows we cannot produce even that. So why be anxious about a garment?
- Wide reach. If worry cannot change small matters, it can change nothing. It only distresses us, and often others too.
- Real cost. Worry is not neutral: it unfits us for seeking the kingdom and, by unbelief, blocks God from acting for us.
- Right conclusion. So much already depends on the will of Another. Leave Him the rest. Weak faith is the only weakness worth grieving over.
- Settled heart. Our Father has infinite wisdom and power, and He cares for the humblest creatures. Set our helplessness beside that, and anxiety can go.
And why are ye careful about clothing? Observe with attention the lilies of the field, how they grow they toil not, neither do they spin;
The Lord does not argue His point; He tells His hearers to look at something. Commentators note how often He does this, and why it carries weight.
We do well to consider what surrounds us. Sometimes the Lord pointed to things outside and argued from the smaller to the greater. Think of the weighty lessons the disciples could learn from the birds of the sky, or from the lilies of the field. These show more than divine power. They show wisdom, kindness, and a care that thinks of them down to the smallest detail — a goodness that runs through everything and stays, even in the face of man's sin and wickedness.
Another writer connects this habit of teaching to who God is:
Surely many of us walk about little discerning what lessons we may learn from nature. How often did the Lord draw instruction from natural objects, and from operations in nature! And well He might, for the God of creation is the God of revelation. There is but one living and true God. Hence His ways in nature may have a voice for us His creatures.
The verse before pointed to birds. This one changes both the picture and the worry it answers.
In verses 26 and 27 the Lord speaks of the birds of the sky. In verses 28-30 He turns to the lilies of the field. Both teach against anxiety: the birds about eating and drinking, the lilies about clothing. These are famously the two areas of ordinary life that test people most — not people in general only, but disciples, and He was speaking to disciples all through His teaching on the mountain.
The lily is the weaker example on purpose.
The birds at least have to do something to find their food; but the lilies do not toil for their clothing! They grow and develop, so to speak, by themselves. The many colours, the beauty and tenderness of the plants display one thing only: the glorious grandeur of our Creator. And this is for our joy as well.
Toiling and spinning were the two labours that produced clothing. The Lord sets them aside as a picture — not as a rule for His disciples' hands.
Sowing or reaping, toiling or spinning may well be a duty. It is a duty if they had to provide for themselves and their household, and could earn their supplies more easily by such work. Even in a world untouched by sin, the LORD put Adam, whom He had formed, into the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. There was no one to hire for the work that needed doing, and Adam could gladly use his own hands.
The same writer adds that work is a mercy, and that Scripture is blunt about refusing it:
For children not yet converted, and for adults in the same state, having work to do is a merciful help. It guards them from the dangers of idleness and of giving way to lust and passion. Work is good for believers too. Refusing to work when you have no means of your own is bad — so much so that the apostle says bluntly: if a man does not want to work, he should not eat.
The comparison carries a sting.
Solomon in all his glory was not dressed like one of these lilies. The closer you look at them, even with the strongest lens, the more they outshine the splendour of Israel's richest king. Yet that rich beauty of shape and colour was only a carpet under the feet of the poorest Israelite one day, and fuel for an oven the next… He uses both facts to judge our nature's anxiety about earthly things… He would banish doubt, distress and unworthy desires, and settle the heart in confidence in His Father's present, perfect and loving care.
Nature is the starting point, not the destination.
He never meant the disciples to take up the birds of the sky or the lilies of the field as objects of their own care, though more than a few misuse what He said… He points out the matchless goodness of God toward what is so small in His eyes. His aim is that the disciples should rise from these things to the Father above them all, and be sure of the thoughtful, constant love He bears to His own.
One writer preaches the gospel from the lily, linking this verse with the Song of Solomon, quoted here in an older wording.
"As the lily among thorns" — the gorgeous lily growing in the thorn thickets of Palestine — "so is my love among the daughters." … We were all thorns once. We can take these words for ourselves and say that His grace has turned us into the lily. The believing soul is dressed in Christ, and has that fragrance and beauty before Him. God is He that does this; it is not the result of their scheming and toil.
- Consider — The lesson begins with an act of attention, not effort. Look at what God grows without help, and let creation speak.
- Clothed — Birds answer anxiety about food; lilies answer anxiety about clothing. The weaker the creature, the stronger the argument for God's care.
- Not idle — "Neither toil nor spin" describes flowers, not disciples. Work remains a duty and a mercy; only the anxiety is forbidden.
- Outshone — God spends beauty greater than Solomon's on grass that will heat an oven tomorrow. His care for what passes is the measure of His care for you.
- Upward — The look ends at the Father, not the flower. Grace even turns thorns into lilies, dressed by God, not by their own scheming.
but I say unto you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed as one of these.
The Lord answers worry about clothes with a wildflower. He sets it beside the richest king Israel ever had. Why does a one-day flower outrank a royal wardrobe? And what should that do to an anxious heart?
He names the one king whose wealth was legendary. One writer shows why, and where the real difference lay:
What amazing wealth there was in Solomon's reign! People have estimated that Solomon's temple held enough gold to more than pay off a nation's entire debt, and silver, we are told, was like stones. The Queen of Sheba fainted at the sight, it so far exceeded her expectations, so we can see why the Lord here selects Solomon. However grand and beautiful his clothing was, it was only artificial. The other was of God.
The One speaking had watched Solomon's coronation from heaven. He preferred the flower:
Our blessed Lord once spoke with appreciation of "the lilies of the field." "Consider them," He said. "Yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these" (Matt. 6:28-29). From His holy heaven He had seen Solomon in his magnificent coronation robes, made by skilful hands. But to His mind the modest lily, the work of God, presented a more attractive picture. May the gracious Spirit of God work in us all the lily character. No "outward adornment" will compare with it (1 Peter 3:3).
A closer look only widens the gap. And the flower that wins has almost no future:
What a rebuke from the plants of the field, as our Lord interprets it! Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these lilies. The closer you inspect them, even with the most powerful instruments, the more they outshine the splendour of Israel's richest king. Yet that lavish beauty of form and colour was only a carpet spread for the feet of the poorest Israelite on one day, and on another was fuel for an oven. And this end of its glory was far from being an offence to the Lord. He was above all jealous for His Father's honour in His work. So He uses this double fact to judge our natural anxiety about earthly things. They may be as lovely to the eye as the lilies, yet they die just as quickly. He uses it to banish doubts, distress, and unworthy desires, and to settle the heart in confidence of His Father's present, perfect, and loving care.
The same writer points the lesson upward — past the small thing God clothes so well, to the Father Himself:
He points out God's incomparable goodness toward what is so little in His eyes. His aim is that the disciples should rise from this to the Father above them all, and be sure of the thoughtful and constant love He bears to His own... Are we to share the anxiety of those who do not know God? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all — how shall He not also with Him freely give us all things?
The birds and the lilies answer two different fears:
"They neither toil nor spin." The ravens might seem to do something; but as to the lilies, what can they do?... The one, then — the ravens — rebuked their care for their food, and the lilies their care for their clothing.
Trusting God for clothes does not mean asking Him for impressive ones:
Of course faith would not ask Him to give us clothing that would draw attention to ourselves, for faith honours Him, not self.
One writer links the lily to the Song of Songs, where it stands among thorns:
Link it with the Song of Songs. Hear what the Bridegroom says of the earthly bride: "As the lily among thorns" — the gorgeous lily growing in the thorn thickets of Palestine — "so is my love among the daughters." We have teaching about the thorn: how it came in, and what its end will be. We were all thorns once. We can take these words for ourselves. His grace has transformed us into the lily, clothed in Christ. The believing soul has that fragrance and beauty before Him. God is the One who does this; it is not the result of their scheming and toil.
(The ESV renders that line "As a lily among brambles.")
- Chosen: The Lord names Solomon because his splendour was the peak of what money could buy. It was still only man-made. The lily was of God.
- Clothed: The lily neither toils nor spins. Its beauty is a gift, not a wage — and the closer you look, the further it outshines the king.
- Contrast: God dresses a flower that carpets the ground one day and heats an oven the next. That is His answer to anxiety.
- Care: The point is not the flower but the Father above it. The God who did not spare His own Son will not withhold lesser things.
- Changed: In the Song of Songs the lily stands among thorns. We were thorns once, and grace made us lilies, clothed in Christ by His work, not our scheming.
But if God so clothe the herbage of the field, which is to-day, and to-morrow is cast into [the] oven, will he not much rather you, O [ye] of little faith?
The Lord has just pointed to the lilies. Now He drives the lesson home with one sharp picture. God dresses roadside grass in beauty, and by tomorrow that grass is fuel. The question is not whether God can provide. It is why His own children still worry.
The picture comes from ordinary village life. An oven there was not a machine but a hole in the ground, and dried plants were the fuel.
In the cities some people worked as bakers and had built-up ovens. Everywhere else, each household usually had its own simple oven. A hole was dug in the ground and coated with clay, which hardened in the heat of the fire. Grass of every kind dried quickly in the sun, and people threw it into the oven to heat it.
So the Lord picks something with no lasting value — and God still made it beautiful.
What a rebuke comes from the plants of the field, as our Lord explains it! Solomon in all his glory was not dressed like one of these lilies. The closer you look at them, even with the most powerful instruments, the more they outshine the splendour of Israel's richest king. Yet all that lavish beauty of shape and colour was only a carpet spread under the feet of the poorest Israelite one day. The next day it was fuel for an oven.
The reasoning runs upward. If God takes care of the lowest and shortest-lived thing He has made, He will not overlook His own people. Note also that each illustration answers a specific worry.
"But if God so clothes the grass, which today is in the field, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will He clothe you, O you of little faith?" Grass is the lowest thing, as it were, that He has made in the plant world — something both common and short-lived. So the ravens rebuked their anxiety about food, and the lilies their anxiety about clothing.
The same Maker stands behind the flower and behind the believer.
God, the creator of all animal and plant life, has fitted them together so admirably and sustains them. He will also provide for His children, who are worth much more than they are, in a fatherly way, with food and clothing. Yet how often we too show little faith in this matter!
The lilies neither toil nor spin. But the point is trust, not laziness.
Sowing or reaping, toiling or spinning could still be a duty. It would be, if they had to provide for themselves and their household, and could earn their supplies more easily by this work than in any other way. Even in an unfallen world, the Lord put Adam, whom He had formed, into the garden of Eden to till it and guard it.
The Lord's closing words are a rebuke, but a gentle one. He names the real problem: not scarce resources, but a small trust. Set against our own helplessness, that weakness stands out.
All your anxiety cannot add a single cubit to your height. And how much else there is of this kind, where we depend entirely on the will of another! We already have to leave so much to Him, and He clothes the perishing lilies of the field with a glory greater than Solomon's. Why not, then, leave everything to Him? The weakness of a person's faith is the only truly sad weakness, after all.
Left unchecked, that small faith pulls a believer down to the outlook of people who have no God at all.
Anxiety, darkness and doubt come from unbelief, joined with loving the world or the things in the world. That is how it was with the Gentiles, who did not know God. If we know Him, and the blessedness of His kingdom, and the perfection of His righteousness, why be anxious about tomorrow?
How much more? Look at what God has already spent on us.
God lavishly gives such beauty to grass, though it lasts such a short time. How much more can we depend on Him to clothe those whom He gave His Son to redeem!
- Grass. God dresses a weed that will heat tomorrow's oven — the lowest, briefest thing He makes.
- Gift. If He spends that much beauty on fuel, His care for children bought by His Son is beyond question.
- Rebuke. "Little faith" is real faith that has shrunk; it is the one weakness worth grieving over.
- Danger. Anxiety about food and clothes drags believers down to the level of people who do not know God.
- Balance. Trusting the Father does not cancel honest work. God gave Adam a garden to work before sin entered.
Be not therefore careful, saying, What shall we eat? or What shall we drink? or What shall we put on?
The Lord has just pointed to the birds and the lilies, and now He gathers it up with a "therefore." He bars the three questions worry asks — food, drink, clothing — but how do you stop thinking about what the body cannot live without?
This verse sums up what came before. One writer notices a small word the Lord changes as He repeats Himself.
As the Lord began, so He closed His charge to the saints against anxiety in the earthly life. He picks on purpose the ordinary, everyday matter of daily food and clothing. He brings in the birds of the sky as the witness of generous provision without worry. He brings in the unmatched splendour of the lilies of the field as a rebuke to troubled efforts after empty show. The sense and the wording of verses 25 and 31 are much the same. But in the later verse He exchanges "you" and "your" for the more tender, family expression "we."
Commentators differ on how far the prohibition reaches. Some read it as a matter of what fills the mind and holds first place.
To "take no thought" about our food, drink or clothing does not, of course, mean never to think of these things. It means not making them the objects of our thoughts as though they were the most important things in life. Gentile nations do this, giving great weight to things of only minor importance. Our Father knows we need such things, and we can depend on Him to supply them at the right time.
Others refuse to soften it at all. They press the wording as it stands.
Notice, "take NO thought." This needs no interpretation or adjustment. People may say it means "anxious thought." But there is nothing about "anxious" in the passage… If the Lord Jesus meant "anxious thought," He would have said so… The Spirit says through the apostle, "do not be anxious about anything." Why? Because God is caring for you. There is no use in two thinking about the same thing, when One can do everything and the other can do nothing.
The Lord does not choose rare emergencies as His example. He chooses the things every household asks about every week — and He says the same thing three times over.
In Matthew 6 the things that may give rise to this anxious care are much more general. They are not wants that arise only in exceptional circumstances, but everyday needs that all of us have. In particular the Lord speaks of food and drink to sustain our lives, and clothing for our bodies… Three times in this passage the Lord instructs His hearers not to be careful, or anxious, about these matters.
The Lord's reason points at "the Gentiles." What that word means carries the argument.
These outward things tempt us to lay great stress on them. But He reminds us that they are only the objects the Gentiles seek after. "Gentile" was a term used of a man without God, in contrast to a Jew who had God in an outward way in this world. A Christian is a man who has God in heaven as his Father. "Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all." So then, since our Father knows this, why should we doubt Him? We do not distrust our earthly father; much less then should we doubt our heavenly Father.
Worry is not treated here as a harmless personality trait. Left alone, a weakness turns into something worse.
What we shall eat and drink, and what we shall wear, is the absorbing pursuit, the overwhelming and soul-destroying question… It is the weakness of our flesh. But it often becomes the sin of our souls. It drags us down in our living to the level of the nations of the world that do not know God. It makes us distrustful of His loving-kindness towards us.
The Lord does not free us from care so that we can relax. He frees us so that something can grow.
Why is there such emphasis on our being without care? It is certainly not so that we may settle down in comfortable ease. In the parable of the sower some of the seed fell among thorns. The thorns grew up and choked the seed. In His explanation the Lord said the thorns are the cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, the desires for other things and the pleasures of this life… If we want to live lives that are fruitful for God, we must not let the cares of this world crowd out His claims and interests. As we seek His interests and actively pursue them, we will find that our needs are met.
Having forbidden the questions, the Lord does not leave the questioner empty.
Are we then left without comfort or resource? Far from it. The Lord finishes with real cheer for those who seek to be faithful: "your heavenly Father knows that you need them all." And is it not the Father's pleasure to consider every need of every child? Who can pretend that He does not abound in all good things, or that He would not have us trust in Him rather than in ourselves?
- Father, first — the ban on worry rests on one fact. The birds and the lilies show a Father who provides. He already knows what you need.
- Father's business — commentators differ on how far "take no thought" reaches. Does it bar all thought, or only the thought that makes food and clothing the chief thing in life? Both agree these questions belong to Him, not to you.
- Father's family — the Lord shifts from "you" to the warmer, family word "we" here. He puts the anxious words into His disciples' own mouths before He answers them.
- Fatherless talk — to spend life on these three questions is to talk like people without God. That weakness of the flesh becomes the sin of the soul.
- Father's fruit — freedom from care is not for ease. It is for fruit. The cares of this world are thorns, and they choke the word before it can yield anything.
for all these things the nations seek after; for your heavenly Father knows that ye have need of all these things.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.
The command to seek first does not arrive in a quiet room. It lands in the middle of talk about food and clothes. One writer asks us to notice that:
The Lord Jesus said, "seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness." What had He been speaking of just before? Of what we shall eat and what we shall wear — the things we need for daily life. We do need them. But it is exactly because we need them that our Lord says, "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness." Are we listening to this word? What is first in our souls?
"First" is easily misread as a timetable — deal with God, then get on with life. One commentator cuts that reading off directly:
"But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you." We are not to seek first the kingdom of God and then seek these things. We seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all the rest will come.
The issue is not how much time something takes. It is which claim comes first. One writer wrote this to a man deciding whether to take up a job alongside his preaching:
The thing that I fear is not seeking FIRST the kingdom of God and His righteousness. It is not the time only that a similar occupation takes, but its having the prior claim, which is important. It alters the whole tone of the mind.
One writer sums the kingdom up in two words — God's interests — and draws a conclusion about worry:
Seek the kingdom of God, that is, God's interests, and all these things will be added to you. So, dear friends, not one of us needs to be troubled by a single care. We will not be troubled if we only take this into our hearts: God loves us, He cares for us, and He watches over us because He cares for us. So He will never let one of His children go without, if that child seeks first the kingdom of God.
The verse names two things, not one, and the second is not decoration. One writer explains what makes this second thing hard:
"His righteousness" is added to this. Everything in the world is stained by man's unrighteousness. So it takes real purpose of heart to seek the purity of God's righteousness in surroundings that pull the other way. This does take time and thought.
Another writer asks where this seeking shows itself day by day:
Do we make our decisions, small or great, in dependence on Him — praying and waiting on Him? Do we let Him rule our lives in this way? This is the only way to seek the kingdom of God and His righteousness. The righteousness of God here is not the same as the righteousness spoken of in Romans. It is practical conduct. It answers to the authority and rule of God through the Lord Jesus in our lives.
The promise is real. But one writer warns that it collapses the moment it becomes the reason we seek:
We are to make the things of God our main aim, and He promises to take care of all our needs. But note this. We are not to seek "the kingdom of God" so that "all these things may be added." That would be a fatal mistake. If I give myself to the Lord's work so that my everyday needs will be met, I will soon come to ruin. But if I make the Lord's work my first aim, God will fully meet my needs.
One writer points out who does the adding:
Before all else, consider the rights of God. Our habit is to seek food and clothing first, along with everything else we count as a need or comfort in this life. But the Lord puts all of that well outside the range of our worry. "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness." The promise is that all these things will be added — that is, that God will add them.
One writer ties the promise back to what it rests on:
If we make God's kingdom and righteousness our first concern, we can expect Him to add all the good things we need. Our God and Father never overlooks our needs. If faithful in the greatest and deepest things, He loves that we should trust Him as to our least things. Do we believe the Lord, that "all these things" — the ones unbelief worries about — "will be added to us"? Let us not forget the condition: "seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness."
- First — not a sequence, but a ranking. Seek the kingdom and everything else follows. Let another claim take first place and it changes the whole tone of the mind.
- Kingdom — God's interests. Seeking it means making His concerns our own.
- Righteousness — doing what is right under His rule, in dependence on Him, in decisions small and great.
- Added — God does the adding. The moment the promise becomes the motive, the seeking is ruined. Make the Lord's work your first aim, and every need is met.
- Condition — the promise does not stand alone. Faithful in the greatest things, we are invited to trust Him with the least.
Be not careful therefore for the morrow, for the morrow shall be careful about itself. Sufficient to the day [is] its own evil.
Jesus closes His teaching on worry by drawing a line around the day you are actually living in. It raises a practical question. Is planning ahead forbidden, or the fear that eats away at the heart?
The command treats fear of a coming evil as a failure of trust. One writer notes that the feared thing often never arrives — and that even when it does, God is there:
"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself." Our Lord is preparing us for this. The anxiety that dreads some evil thing tomorrow is nothing but unbelief. When tomorrow comes, the evil may not be there. If it does come, God will be there... Often, when the heart bows to God's will about a sorrow we dread, God takes the sorrow away and meets us with unexpected kindness and goodness.
Anxiety also has a direction. It looks forward:
And there is another characteristic about anxiety. It looks ahead without faith. Unbelief draws dark pictures of despair and fills the mind with a day that may never come.
The second half of the verse sets a boundary on how much a person is meant to bear at once. Take on tomorrow's load and you carry weight that God has given you no grace for:
He also sets a limit on care, and that limit by itself rules most care out. How much of the burden we carry really belongs to tomorrow? It is a burden that is not ours yet. Who can tell what tomorrow will bring? Each day will have enough evil of its own. It is never too much, because a careful hand has measured it out. But when we borrow trouble that has not come yet, we make the day's burden too heavy, and we cannot count on God's grace for what has not come... How often has His love disappointed all our fears in ways we never dreamed of!
Commentators are careful not to turn this verse into a ban on forethought. One writer looks at the word behind "take thought" and finds the idea of a heart pulled in two directions:
In all this, what is forbidden is not thinking about tomorrow, but anxious care. The word itself comes from one that suggests "division," and so a "distracted" heart... James blames only the confident tone of that speech, not all planning for tomorrow. That should be plain: if the opposite were true, the whole course of our lives would have to change.
The same distinction shows up in ordinary family duties:
We believe the Christian must provide for his family, day by day. He must educate his children and set them on the way to earning an honest living... But those duties are one thing. Hoarding money and speculating are another... We believe that hoarding covers the soul with rust and speculation fills the heart and mind with care and anxiety.
Verse 34 is not simply a repeat of what came before. One writer finds the command sharpening at the end:
The disciples were not to make anxiety about food and clothing a habit. Even a brief look at the birds, or at the lilies, might well correct it. They were not to be anxious at all, said the Lord — not for the morrow. It is a stronger statement, excluding even a single instance.
The command has a foundation under it. The one who holds tomorrow is the believer's Father:
But why should the child of God give way to anxiety about tomorrow? He can be glad and bold, sure of his Father's love, and free to do His will today, whatever the trial. God is above tomorrow's anxiety too, and the believer can cast it on Him if it comes. "Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." Christ is our burden-bearer.
Experience confirms it. One writer adds another reason the dreaded day may never come:
How often have we worried about what tomorrow would bring, and then, when it came, found that the Lord stepped in... To remember that your Father knows, is to put the heart at peace. And we might never have to face tomorrow at all. The Lord may come before it arrives.
There is a reverse application. The same uncertainty that makes worry pointless makes delay dangerous:
If a warning to believers does not include you, you are in special danger. You are putting off until tomorrow the call of the gospel that God makes to you today... Delay will only increase your sins and harden your heart... How many have put off to a tomorrow that never came!
- Today's evil — each day carries a measured portion. A careful hand set the size. It is enough, and never too much.
- Today's grace — God gives grace for the day He gives it. You cannot draw on it early for a trouble that has not come.
- Today's work — providing, teaching your children and earning are duties. Jesus forbids the distracted heart, not planning.
- Today's Father — tomorrow is in His hands, and Christ carries the burden. Not even one moment of anxiety is called for.
- Today's decision — never postpone the gospel call. Many have put it off to a tomorrow that never came.
Judge not, that ye may not be judged;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
for with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you.
Jesus has just told His disciples not to judge. Here He gives the reason: the standard you use on others comes back onto you. So what judging does He forbid? And who hands the measure back?
The first mistake is to read this as a ban on all discernment. Yet the same chapter commands the very thing such a ban would forbid.
The Lord here does not at all blame spiritual discernment of persons or things. Such discernment is a clear and weighty privilege of the Christian, for his own guidance and for the help or warning of others… What the Lord warned the disciples against is the bad habit of censoriousness. It so often leads to suspecting evil motives without ground, against the holy instincts of love… The very context proves that we can and ought to judge. The Lord supposes it not only workable but right and necessary when He says, "Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before pigs."
The line runs between judging what is set before us and judging what is not. One is obedience; the other is a takeover of an office that is not ours.
To judge things and people when it is our duty is to be obedient and to serve. But to judge what is not before us for judgment is another matter. To volunteer in it, to pronounce on motives and springs of action, to assume knowledge of what is not open to us — this is to take authority, not to be subject to it. It is to assume what belongs only to the Judge of all, and so it intrudes on His office.
This is not advice but a law. One writer sets it beside sowing and reaping.
What our Lord says here is a law the believer cannot escape. It is like that other law in Galatians: "Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap."… Many will yet learn, through sad experience and much heartache, that this law is never slow. The word that criticised a brother's motives, and belittled him to lift up the self of the accuser, was soon spoken. But it will not take long before someone steps up with the same measure and the same judgment and does the same to us. Nothing is so damaging to spirituality as a habitual critical spirit.
It matters who hands the measure back. One writer points to people rather than to God's final sentence. (In his older translation, Luke 6:38 reads "shall men give into your bosom" — men give it back.)
Harshness comes back as harshness. The measure we give to others comes back to us. The language shows that God permits this in His government, but it is not the sentence of the divine Judge. The parallel passage in Luke (6:38) states it openly: "good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap."
Commentators differ here. Another reads the verse as describing how God Himself deals with us, though never unjustly:
Of course this does not mean that God will deal unrighteously with someone who judges unrighteously. He will judge every man according to His perfect righteousness. With this goes the assurance that the disciple who judges in love and grace will also receive loving treatment from his heavenly Judge.
Why does anyone fall into this habit? The trouble starts in the critic, not in the other person.
The inevitable effect of a judging spirit is that we get judged ourselves. Everyone speaks ill of the soul whose habit is censorious… Where this proneness to judge is, there is another still more serious evil. It is an evil in the spirit that the person never judges, and it makes him restless and eager to prove others wrong too… And He shows the way to deal rightly, if we desire the good of His people and their deliverance from evil: begin with self-judgment.
The same law runs the other way, and that is where its promise lies.
In the words the Gospel writers record, grace was giving a revised version of the law of retaliation. The Lord was not saying to them, "eye for eye, tooth for tooth." He was laying on them a newer and nobler command: "give, and it will be given to you… For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you."
- Measure — one law, two directions. Harshness comes back as harshness. Generosity comes back pressed down and running over.
- Motives — the ban is not on discernment. It falls on verdicts about springs of action we cannot see, and that claims an office belonging to the Judge of all.
- Mirror — a critical eye signals an unjudged beam at home. Self-judgment is the way to help a brother.
- Mercy — commentators differ on whether people or God hand the measure back. Both readings ask the same of us: judge in love and grace, and loving treatment comes back.
- Momentum — this law is never slow. The quick word comes back just as quickly. Choose now which measure you want handed back.
But why lookest thou on the mote that is in the eye of thy brother, but observest not the beam that is in thine eye?
The Lord has just warned against a judging spirit. Here He asks why a small fault in someone else catches our eye while the far bigger one at home does not.
The verse sets two actions side by side: the man sees the speck and does not notice the log. One writer shows how the two go together.
But He reminds us of what we easily forget. If others are a trial to us, are not we a trial to them? Unless we are walking in the light, are we not as slow to see our own faults as we are quick to notice — and even imagine — wrongs in our brothers? How sharply the Lord puts the case, so that we may loathe ourselves! … The Shepherd and Overseer of our souls strips off the mask that failure in self-judgment puts on. Suppose we do not see our own serious shortcomings and sins before God. Then we do not know our brothers with anything like the same certainty and clearness.
Another writer gives the reason in one line.
And why, then, do men see the little speck in their brother's eye? Because they do not see the great log in their own.
A speck is a splinter of sawdust; a log is a plank of timber. Commentators read the log as an evil in the critic himself that he has never dealt with.
The speck in the brother's eye is the wrong thing that someone thinks he sees in him. But the log in the eye is the evil in one's own heart. A person overlooks it on purpose, though it is easy to see. An experienced brother once said: "I do not know as much evil of anyone as I know of myself. That makes me careful in judging others."
Another writer points to what settles the size: not the offence, but whose eye it sits in.
As the Lord says, "You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye." No matter what it is, if it is in my eye it is a log. And no matter what it is in my brother's eye, it is a speck — until I have judged myself.
Writers trace the habit to a restless heart, and to motives that bend the verdict.
Where this readiness to judge appears, a still more serious evil lies behind it. Some evil in the spirit has gone unjudged for so long that it has become a habit. It makes the person restless and eager to prove others wrong too.
This may be mere fault-finding; or it may be temper, prejudice, or self-interest at work in us. In any case there is a log in the eye, and it blocks a true and righteous judgment.
The passage does not forbid believers to tell right from wrong. One writer marks off the kind of judging it rules out.
To judge things and people as a matter of duty is to be obedient and to serve. But some things are not put before us to judge. To volunteer an opinion on them, to pronounce on motives and what drives people, to claim knowledge of what is not open to us — this takes authority instead of submitting to it. It is in fact to assume what belongs only to the Judge of all, and so it intrudes on His office.
The Lord does not tell the critic to stop caring about his brother's eye. He tells him to change the order and start with himself.
The one who has not judged himself is completely unfit to deal with another. … Get the large thing removed first — the thing that stops you seeing clearly. Most likely you will then find 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.
The change is not only in eyesight but in touch.
Self-judgment by grace always tends to produce humility and love. A man who has been through that exercise over the log in his own eye will act more tenderly in taking the speck out of his brother's eye.
- Look — We are quick to spot faults in others and slow to spot our own. A sharp outward eye is the sign of a dull inward one.
- Log — Location decides size. Whatever is in my eye is a log; whatever is in my brother's is a speck — until I have judged myself.
- Blindness — Temper, prejudice or self-interest sit in the eye and block a true and righteous verdict.
- Limit — Judging what duty puts before us is service. Judging motives we cannot see takes a seat that belongs only to the Judge of all.
- Sight — Remove your own log first. Often the speck is gone; where it remains, you handle it tenderly.
Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Allow [me], I will cast out the mote from thine eye; and behold, the beam is in thine eye?
The verse pictures a man walking up to his brother with an offer of help — while a plank juts from his own eye. Older translations call the two objects a "mote" and a "beam" — a speck of dust and a length of timber.
The whole force of the picture lies in size. Behind that mismatch, one writer finds a deeper problem in the man who is looking.
The Lord puts a particular case: "Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?" (v. 3). That is, where this readiness to judge exists, there is another and still more serious evil. It is a habitually unjudged evil in the spirit. It makes the person restless and eager to prove others wrong too. "Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye?" (v. 4). The speck, of course, was small, but people made a great deal of it. They passed over the log, an enormous thing.
Why does the small fault catch the eye at all?
And why, then, do men see the little speck in their brother's eye? Because they do not see the great log in their own.
The offer sounds warm. The speaker even says "brother."
"To your brother." There is no spirit of love in it. One cannot sincerely say "brother" while doing it. In fact there is pleasure in seeing the fault, a spirit of comparison. … No one ought to find fault until he can say "Brother," in the spirit of love and because he loves him.
Real love would move toward the need. Something else is at work here.
Love would meet another's need. Self is blind and busy, forgets its own faults, but can be eager to correct others for its own glory. Our own unjudged fault always blocks us from giving real help to another.
An eye with a plank in it cannot do delicate work on another eye.
Suppose a person's own unjudged sin badly hinders his ability to judge. How could he then help another who may have been overtaken in a fault through spiritual carelessness? This is just impossible.
The Lord's order is not "never help." It is "help second."
The one who has not judged himself is completely unfit to deal with another. Whoever has judged himself before God knows that whatever another has done, he is capable of doing the same or worse. … Get the large thing removed first — it is the thing that stops you seeing clearly. Most likely you will then find the speck in your brother's eye is gone too. Very often the people who spot these specks are in a bad, sour state of soul. 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 does more than clear the sight; it changes the hands that do the work.
Self-judgment by grace always tends to promote humility and love. Think of the man who has been through such an exercise about the log in his own eye. He will act more tenderly in taking the speck out of his brother's eye.
Some turn this warning into a shield against all correction.
Yet it is worth being on guard against a very common misuse of our Lord's warning. Religious people often use it to fend off any criticism of their own position. They use it in the same way against any care about false doctrine or evil associations, and against the responsibility for the discipline Scripture calls for.
- Log first. Correction is not the problem. The order is: your own eye first, your brother's second.
- Log blinds. Unjudged sin does more than make you wrong. It destroys the eyesight this delicate work needs.
- Log shrinks him. You see the small fault because you do not see the large one. A sharp eye for others is a dull eye for yourself.
- Log removed, sight restored. With the plank gone, the speck is often gone too. And the hand that reaches out now is a tender one.
- Log, not silence. The verse bans fault-finding from an unjudged heart. It does not ban the discipline Scripture calls for.
Hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine eye, and then thou wilt see clearly to cast out the mote out of the eye of thy brother.
Just before this, the Lord pictured a man offering to clear his brother's eye while a plank sticks out of his own. Now He names that man and sets the order: deal with yourself first, and then you can help your brother.
Up to this point in the Sermon on the Mount, the word "hypocrite" has belonged to other people. Here it lands on the listener.
The Lord has already used the expression 'hypocrite' three times in the Sermon on the Mount (ch. 6:2, 5, 16). Each time He was speaking of the religious hypocrites among the Jews, not of His disciples. His use of the expression again shows that even the disciples are not safe from the danger of hypocrisy.
The hypocrisy is not the fault-finding itself. It is the split it exposes: I condemn a sin in someone else and keep it at home.
He says elsewhere, "You hypocrite." It shows our mind is not changed about the thing, and yet we find fault with it in another. So it is plainly not love, and we have no right in this to say "Brother."
The habit of finding fault does not stay where it starts.
I believe the habit of finding fault, as a rule, leads straight to hypocrisy. It makes people claim a spirituality they do not have.
One object is tiny and the other is huge. The man keeps his eye on the tiny one.
The speck, of course, was only small, but the man made a great deal of it; and the log, an enormous thing, he ignored. The Lord is bringing out, in the most emphatic way, the danger of a suspicious, judging spirit. And He shows that the way to deal rightly, if we desire the good of His people and their deliverance from evil, is to begin with self-judgment.
The size does not depend on the kind of sin. It depends on whose eye holds it.
If I am to carry out any discipline on my brother, I must first judge myself deeply. I must feel my own sin and shortcoming, and judge myself without excuse. As the Lord says, "You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye." Whatever the fault is, if it is in my eye it is a log. Whatever it is in my brother's eye, it is a speck, until I have judged myself.
The word "first" is not a delay. The log is the very thing that blocks the sight this job needs.
The one who is self-judged before God is conscious that whatever another has done, he is capable of doing the same or worse... Get the large thing removed first, the thing that stops you seeing clearly; and most likely you will find the speck in the brother's eye is gone too... 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.
Clear sight is only half of it. Self-judgment also changes how a man comes to help.
Our own unjudged fault always blocks us from giving real help to another. But where we have judged ourselves, we not only see more clearly. We also come to the work more humbly and lovingly. This is what makes a man spiritual. Nothing but self-judgment can ever do it — self-judgment joined with a sense of the Lord's great grace and holiness.
Knowing our own forgiveness shapes the way we help.
We will only be able to judge others if we have recognised and confessed our own sins in the light of God. We will be of real spiritual help to our straying brothers only if we live conscious of God's grace. He has forgiven us all our sins, and as Father He forgives us again and again.
Sometimes self-judgment ends the case. A heart set on the Lord is glad when it does.
Again and again we find that when the log is gone, the speck is nowhere to be seen. It has already disappeared. And where the heart is set on the Lord, would we be sorry to find we were mistaken about our brother? Should I not rejoice to find the grace of the Lord in my brother, if in self-judgment I discover that I alone was wrong?
- Log — whatever the sin is, in my own eye it counts as a log, and my brother's stays a speck until I have judged myself.
- Hypocrite — the title falls on a disciple, not an outsider; the mark of it is condemning in another what my own mind has never turned from.
- First — self-judgment takes away the very thing that blocks my sight. Fault I have not judged leaves me unfit to help anyone.
- Clearly — the man who has dealt with himself sees better and also comes more humbly and lovingly, conscious of grace that keeps forgiving him.
- Brother — the speck is still meant to come out; often it has vanished by then, and a right heart is glad to have been wrong.
Give not that which is holy to the dogs, nor cast your pearls before the swine, lest they trample them with their feet, and turning round rend you.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Ask, and it shall be given to you. Seek, and ye shall find. Knock, and it shall be opened to you.
Three short commands, each with a promise attached, tell the Lord's disciples how to deal with God. The words rise in force. But the reason given in the verses that follow is not our persistence. It is the character of the Father who hears.
The verse just before this one spoke of holy things and pearls, and of people who cannot value them. One writer draws the contrast directly, and lets it shape what we should be asking for.
Verse 6 shows the ungodly in no state to receive the things of God, since they do not ask. We, on the other hand, are invited to ask and receive. This dependent, earnest state of soul is what the Father delights to answer... But let us remember that the "holy things" and "pearls" should be what we want most.
Each verb describes a different situation, and the effort rises with each one.
"Ask" means something I want to have. "Seek" means something I have lost. "Knock" means I want to be let in. Each step presses harder than the last. There is more intensity in "seeking" than in "asking", and more again in "knocking" than in "seeking".
The ladder from asking to knocking makes room for something we all meet — the answer that has not yet come.
Asking reveals the desire of the one praying. Seeking and knocking, however, show that God will not always answer prayer at once. We are all in danger of becoming tired and weary in our prayers.
The original wording carries this sense in the form of the verbs themselves, as one note on the tenses brings out:
Matt. 7:7. "Keep asking, and it shall be given you; seek again and again, and you shall find; knock persistently, and it shall be opened to you."
Scripture records people who asked, sought and knocked, yet went away empty. The promise does not cover every kind of request.
Some asked wrongly, meaning to spend what they got on their own pleasures (James 4:3). Others sought, but not in faith (John 6:34). And some will knock only to be shut out (Matt. 25:11). But the Lord encourages His own to deal simply and directly with their Father in heaven. This is the opposite of all empty repetition.
The Lord grounds the promise in something every hearer already knows — how a parent treats a child.
His love goes out to His children in every request that is for their good. He holds back only what they foolishly asked for that would harm them... If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!
Commentators differ here. Some read the rising words as a call to press on until the answer comes. Kelly calls them "a clear climax, all leading to urgent prayer before God." Others say the increase is on our side only, never on God's.
In our judgment, it would be a mistake to use this Scripture as a call to persistence in prayer... It expresses instead a growing, energetic confidence in the Father for the blessings the heart is set on, through grace.
Another writer puts the same caution more sharply.
See how ready God is to answer human need. Never say that persistence moves God... You may have been praying for a long time with no answer. Be sure the waiting has not been wasted. If the work was not done in heaven, it was done in the training of your spirit.
- Ask — the invitation follows a warning about people who cannot receive holy things. The one who asks is in the very state the Father delights to answer.
- Seek — the second word assumes a gap between the request and the reply. Seeking and knocking exist because answers are not always instant.
- Knock — the third word presses hardest. The danger is that we grow tired before the answer comes.
- Rightly — asking for pleasure, seeking without faith and knocking too late all fail. The promise is for simple, direct dealing with the Father.
- Given — the guarantee rests on His heart, not our effort. If evil parents give good gifts, how much more will He? He holds back only what would harm us.
For every one that asks receives; and he that seeks finds; and to him that knocks it shall be opened.
Having told His disciples to ask, seek and knock, the Lord now gives His reason — the same promise again, this time with "everyone" attached. Why repeat it, why three words instead of one, and does it hold without exception?
Verse 8 gives no new command. It fastens a guarantee onto verse 7, and behind that guarantee stands the character of the Giver:
Now the heart of God comes into view as the ready and generous Giver. His fullness can never run dry. His word to His people is always, "Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it." There is only one limit: the limit that little faith may set. On God's side there is a safeguard, which is no limit at all — that the gift be good. And the Lord clasps His commands shut with a double assurance: everyone who asks receives, the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. What a door is opened for us here, and what possibility of blessing! How rich we may all be, if we only will be!
Ask, seek and knock are not three words for one thing. Each names a different need:
"Ask" implies something I desire to have; "seek" something I have missed; and "knock" wanting an entrance. It means increased urgency. There is more intensity in "seeking" than in "asking", and again more in "knocking" than in seeking.
These words address people already in God's family, not a sinner seeking pardon. That is also why a shut door can be part of the answer:
This is not a sinner needing life and forgiveness of his sins. These are saints told to appeal to God, sure of their Father's answer of love, whatever their needs may be… So they must persevere and be earnest. Asking will secure receiving — yes, for everyone who asks. Seeking will not be fruitless; it will find. And to the one who keeps on, God will open the door — a door He shuts only to exercise faith.
The same writer points to a foreign mother who lived through a shut door:
There may be something important for the person asking to learn before the request can be granted. So it was with the Syrophoenician woman. She begged the Lord to pity her, for her daughter was badly possessed by a demon. At first the Lord did not answer her a word. She pleaded as if she were one of the lost sheep of Israel's house. In fact she was a Greek, with no claim on the promises made to the Messiah… But she drops the title Son of David. She sees from His answer where her mistake lay, and she bows before Him, saying, "Lord, help me."… This did help her soul, for it led her to the secret of sovereign grace, and she threw herself upon it at once… The door opened to her knock. She was deepened and made clearer in her faith, as her daughter was healed from that hour.
The verse says "everyone", and one writer presses how wide that word runs:
The heart can spring upward to the throne in prayer and supplication at any time. Our Father's ear is always open, His reception room always accessible. Come when we may and with what we may, He is always ready to hear, ready to answer. He is the Hearer, the Answerer, and the Lover of persistent prayer… These words apply to everyone. They are meant for all God's children. The feeblest child of God can pray, can watch, can get an answer, and return thanks.
Another writer applies the promise to knowing the Bible itself:
God never intended theology to be for a class of men called theologians. Instead, all the treasures of His Word are for all His people. Nothing is hidden, except from the careless and the indifferent… Teachers are only God's pledge of how eager He is to have everyone know His Word.
Some people in Scripture asked and received nothing. So the promise assumes honest dealing with God:
Some asked with wrong motives, wanting to spend it on their pleasures (James 4:3). Others sought, but not in faith (John 6:34). And some will knock, only to be turned away (Matthew 25:11). But the Lord encourages His own to deal simply and directly with their Father in heaven. This is the opposite of empty repetition… His disciples were free to voice the deep feelings of their souls to God and to bring their needs to Him.
- Doubled — verse 8 repeats verse 7 as a guarantee: the same three promises, clasped shut on God's side.
- Rising — asking wants what it lacks. Seeking hunts what it missed. Knocking presses for entry. The urgency climbs.
- Delayed — a shut door is not a refusal. God shuts it to exercise faith, as with the foreign mother who saw her mistake before she got her answer.
- Everyone — no exceptions and no experts. The feeblest child of God can ask, and the treasures of His Word are open to all His people.
- Real — the promise covers honest need, not requests aimed at our own pleasures (James 4:3).
Or what man is there of you who, if his son shall ask of him a loaf of bread, will give him a stone;
This verse sits in the middle of Jesus' teaching on prayer, and here He stops arguing and paints a picture of an ordinary father. The question He raises is simple: is God's heart at least as good as the heart of a human father?
He describes a household anyone has seen, and a particular kind of asking inside it.
The Lord Jesus uses an illustration which everybody can understand. He speaks of the normal relation between a son and his father which is marked by love and confidence. The son is in trouble and asks his father for bread or a fish, that is, the things he needs for daily life. He does not demand, as the son in Luke 15:12 did. Nor does he ask wrongly, to satisfy his own selfish desires (which James 4:3 warns us about). No, he asks his father with trust and without doubting, for what he really needs.
Two Greek words in the New Testament both become "ask" in English. The one used here has its own tone.
Both aiteo and erotao are translated "to ask," and in many places that is right. But some passages lose much of their force, because the translation does not keep a very real difference between the two words. Aiteo is the word for pleading, as when someone lower asks someone higher — a beggar asking for money, Acts 3:2; a child asking his parents (Matt. 7:9), and the disciples asking God the Father (1 John 3:22; James 1:5-6).
The two items Jesus names in verses 9 and 10 fail the child in different ways, and the second is worse than the first.
If a child asks for bread, will his father give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will his father give him a serpent? No father is likely to be so callous as this. The stone is useless, but the serpent is dangerous. On the other hand, if a child asked for a serpent, what father would give it to him? Why would we ever think of asking for what is useless or harmful?
One writer names what such a gift would really be. It would not just be a poor gift. It would mock a hungry child.
Who would not reject such mockery of a son's hunger?
This verse is one half of an argument. The other half, in verse 11, moves up from what any father would do to what God will do.
A response from our Father is certain. If we ask for necessary things we shall get them, for He will not give us instead something worthless like a stone, or harmful like a serpent. We may rest assured that He will give us "good things," for His Fatherhood is of heaven. His standard therefore will not fall below that of earthly fatherhood. We may apply Isaiah 55:9 to this, and say that as the heavens are higher than the earth so are His Fatherly thoughts higher than our thoughts.
The comparison also exposes something about us. Jesus calls the fathers in His picture evil, and that is what gives the argument its weight.
If we call God Father, do we expect to find Him less than such a title implies, even among men? Is not this, in fact, however real, only a feeble suggestion of what God is as Father? It would have to be, even if people had never fallen into sin. But "if you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more" — there, indeed, is a calculation for faith to make.
One writer traces both the giving and the refusing back to the same love.
The Father's love goes out to His sons in every request that is for their good. He holds back only the things they foolishly asked for that would harm them.
Another writer applies this to prayers that seem to get no reply.
He will not give that which is useless or harmful in answer to requests for necessary food. Nor, we may add, will He give what is useless or harmful if we foolishly desire it and ask for it. Many an unanswered prayer is, no doubt, accounted for by this.
- Ask. The word here is the one used of a beggar, and of a child before a parent. It is not a demand. It is a plea made from need to someone able to meet it.
- Bread. The son in the picture asks for what he needs for daily life, not for what would feed his own desires.
- Stone. A stone is useless when the child needs bread. A serpent instead of a fish is worse, because it is dangerous. No decent father gives either.
- How much more. Jesus argues upward. Fathers He calls evil still give good gifts, so the Father in heaven will not fall below them. That is a calculation for faith to make.
- No. A good Father will not hand over what is useless or harmful. So some unanswered prayers are answers. He holds back only what we foolishly asked for that would hurt us.
and if he ask a fish, will give him a serpent?
Jesus pictures a hungry son asking for a fish, and a father handing him a snake instead. The absurdity is the point. The verse is not about fish. It asks what God is like as a Father, and why some prayers go unanswered.
Jesus is speaking to people who already know God as Father. No decent father plays a cruel joke on a hungry child, and He builds His argument on that instinct.
Here the Lord is not speaking to a sinner who needs life and the forgiveness of his sins. He is speaking to believers, who are told to appeal to God and are assured of their Father's answer of love, whatever their needs may be… The Lord also encourages His disciples through the affection planted in a parent's heart. If their Father makes His sun rise on evil and good, and sends rain on just and unjust, how does He feel toward His sons? His love surely goes out to them in every request that is for their good. He withholds only the foolish requests that would harm them. So He says, "Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent?" Who would not reject such mockery of a son's hunger?
The two images are not saying the same thing. The picture can also be turned around: what if the child asked for the snake himself?
The stone is useless, but the serpent is dangerous. On the other hand, if a child asked for a serpent, what father would give it to him? Why would we ever think of asking for what is useless or harmful?
Everything turns on the way the son comes.
The Lord Jesus uses an illustration everyone can understand. He speaks of the normal relationship between a son and his father, marked by love and confidence. The son is in trouble and asks his father for bread or a fish — things needed for daily living. He does not demand, as the son in Luke 15:12 did. Nor does he ask wrongly, to satisfy his own desires (which James 4:3 warns us about). No, he asks his father trustingly and without doubting, for what he really needs. The Lord teaches in such a way that the father's answer to the son's request is "yes." He will not disappoint his son's confidence by giving him a stone instead of bread. He will not put him in danger by giving a serpent instead of a fish.
Love alone is not enough. A father who loves his child but lacks judgment could still hand over the snake.
God does not limit Himself to our requests. He gives what He sees we need. He gives according to His wisdom, and according to the love of His heart… There is affection enough in the heart of man to make him respond to the cry of need from the lips of a child. But affection is not enough. Wisdom is also needed, so that he may give a good gift. Parents do not always give everything their children ask for. They are not inattentive to their requests, but they consider what will be suitable and good to give.
Turn the verse around. If God will not swap a serpent for a fish, He will not hand one over just because we asked for it by name.
The Father in heaven is not to be thought of as less interested and considerate than an earthly father. He will not give what is useless or harmful in answer to requests for necessary food. Nor, we may add, will He give what is useless or harmful if we foolishly desire it and ask for it. Many an unanswered prayer is, no doubt, explained by this.
The gap between what a child needs and what he wants explains much of this.
If God is our Father, we are blessed indeed. He has infinite wisdom, love and power. He knows what we need. What we want is another matter. A child in a family gets its needs supplied, but if the little boy of three wants his father's sharp razor to play with, he is refused. God is as loving in His refusals as in His answers.
- Ask — the son comes in trust, for what he truly needs. He does not demand, and he does not ask to please himself.
- Father — the argument rests on relationship. God is not less caring than a human father.
- Never a serpent — a stone is useless, a serpent harms. He gives neither, even when we ask for one.
- Wisdom with love — love alone can still give the wrong gift. God answers by His wisdom, not by the wording of our prayer.
- Refusal as love — this explains many unanswered prayers. He is as loving when He withholds as when He gives.
If therefore *ye*, being wicked, know [how] to give good gifts to your children, how much rather shall your Father who is in the heavens give good things to them that ask of him?
Jesus ends His teaching on asking, seeking and knocking by comparing a flawed human father with God Himself. Three phrases carry the verse — being evil, how much more, and good things — and each one changes how we pray.
This promise is not aimed at a stranger. It speaks to people already in God's family, learning to lean on their Father.
This is not a sinner needing life and forgiveness of his sins. It is God's people, told to appeal to God and assured of their Father's answer of love, whatever they need... Asking will bring receiving — yes, for everyone who asks. Seeking will not be fruitless; it will find. And to the one who is still more persistent, the door will open. It is only shut to exercise faith.
Jesus does not soften His verdict on the people He is encouraging. That blunt word about human nature makes the comparison work.
The Lord mentions the evil of the human heart to stress a difference. The love of the kindest human father is not the perfect love of God. If even flawed people, evil by nature, like to give their children what they ask for, how much more will God, the great giver, do so!
The title "Father" carries a set of expectations. Jesus asks whether God will turn out to be less than the word implies.
If we call God Father, do we expect to find Him less than such a title implies, even among men? Real as human fatherhood is, is it not only a faint hint of what God is as Father? Even if people had never fallen into sin, it would still be only a hint. But "if you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more" — there, indeed, is a calculation for faith to make.
Our folly tends to run the sum the other way:
Do not put it in your mind, "how much less," as we so often do in our folly, but, "how much more."
God's kindness already reaches everyone alike. His own children stand nearer still.
If their Father makes His sun rise on evil and good, and sends rain on just and unjust, how does He feel toward His sons? His love surely goes out to them in every request that is for their good, and withholds only what their foolishness asked that must do them harm.
Heaven is where this Father lives. That sets the level of His giving.
A response from our Father is certain. If we ask for necessary things we shall get them, for He will not give us instead something worthless like a stone, or harmful like a serpent. We may rest assured that He will give us "good things," for His Fatherhood is of heaven. His standard therefore will not fall below that of earthly fatherhood. We may apply Isaiah 55:9 to this. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so His Fatherly thoughts are higher than our thoughts.
Luke records this teaching with one difference in the closing words.
In Matthew we learn that God can give good things. Luke names the giving of the Holy Spirit as a blessing to enjoy.
That request belonged to one moment in history. It changes how a believer prays today.
Jesus said this to disciples who had not yet received the Spirit to live inside them. They could not, until Christ was glorified after His death and resurrection (John 7:39). He encouraged them to ask for the Spirit, for God intended to give Him. Now that the Holy Spirit has come and dwells in every believer (Rom. 8:9), it would be a mistake for a believer to ask for Him again. Instead we may thank God for Him and seek grace to "walk in the Spirit" consistently.
- The premise. Jesus gives an honest verdict: human givers are evil. Even so, they know how to give good gifts to their children.
- The leap. "How much more" is a sum faith must do; the folly of our hearts keeps writing "how much less" instead.
- The measure. His Fatherhood is heavenly. His giving never falls below the best human father — it rises far above.
- The filter. His love answers every request that is for our good. It withholds only what our foolishness asked, because that would harm us.
- The gift. Matthew says "good things." Luke names the Holy Spirit. The disciples asked for Him then; He lives in believers now, so thanks replaces the asking.
Therefore all things whatever ye desire that men should do to you, thus do *ye* also do to them; for this is the law and the prophets.
The rule sits at the end of a passage about asking, seeking and knocking. Its opening word ties it to what came just before. One writer traces the logic: what you have received from God sets the measure of what you give out.
If you take in how generous God is — the generosity He has been speaking about — you will be generous yourself. Your conduct toward others will not be measured by how they treat you. It will be measured by how you would have wanted them to treat you. A large heart is the result of living in the enjoyment of the King's generosity.
Another writer warns that keeping this rule takes real effort.
It will take real effort to stay completely fair here. When others treat us badly, we are easily caught off guard. This is no excuse for our doing the same.
The standard is not what the other person deserves or has done. It is what you would want done to you — which means the other person's behaviour never sets your course.
This is not dealing with people according to their ways. It is the opposite. It is as if He says, "You who know the heavenly Father, who know what His grace to the evil is, you know what is fitting in His sight; always act on that. Never act according to what another person does to you. Act according to what you would want them to do to you."
Similar sayings existed before. But they were put the other way round, as a warning against harming people. The Lord's version asks for something more.
What a contrast to the well-known saying: "Don't do to others what you don't want them to do to you." Even the Rabbis and the Greeks had a similar saying! It contains no more than the negative warning not to do evil to our fellow man. In contrast, the Lord Jesus sums up His teaching with a positive command. Do for others everything we would like to receive ourselves. We can only do this in the strength of God's love.
The reason given is not fairness between people, and not kindness as a natural instinct.
This closing verse takes up what is right for the disciple among people. It lays down a simple, sound principle: do to others as we would have others do to us. This rests on no ground of human rights or natural kindness. It rests on agreement with God's revealed will.
The closing line reaches back to something the Lord said earlier in the same sermon.
This verse has been called the "golden rule" of love. It closes the first paragraph of chapter 7. It also closes the whole teaching that began in chapter 5, verse 17, with the words of the Lord: "Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them."
One writer sees in this a single divine aim running through every stage of God's dealings, while still keeping law and grace distinct.
The new order of God's dealings follows the same line as everything before it. The same God has been aiming at the same results all through. The means may change at each step forward, but He keeps the goal in sight and moves steadily toward it. The righteousness which the law had in view, grace has brought in — and yet law and grace are contrasts.
People boast about this rule. One writer says they do not understand it, and no one actually keeps it.
Yet with all this boasting in a rule they do not understand, no one keeps it, nor would think of keeping it. The Lord gives this practical word to the true disciple. Anyone born again is born of God. He has the nature of God, and that is love.
- Bounty first. The opening word ties the rule to God's giving: those who live in the enjoyment of His generosity become generous themselves.
- Bounty measured. Your conduct is not measured by how people treat you, but by what you would have wished from them.
- Bounty active. Older versions of the saying only forbid harm; this one commands positive good, and that takes the strength of God's love.
- Bounty grounded. The rule rests on God's revealed will, not on human rights or natural kindness. It gathers up the Law and the Prophets in one line.
- Bounty possible. Admiring the rule is not keeping it; only one born of God has the nature that is love, and so can live it.
Enter in through the narrow gate, for wide the gate and broad the way that leads to destruction, and many are they who enter in through it.
Two gates stand open in front of every person, and the Lord tells His hearers which one to walk through. The words are short. But they raise three big questions: what makes one gate narrow, why the crowd prefers the other, and where each road ends.
The verse opens with a command. It calls for a choice, and it names what is at stake.
The Lord calls for a decision: to enter through the narrow gate and walk in the narrow way of obedience that leads to life. It is much easier to follow the masses through the wide gate, on the broad way of disobedience. But it is disastrous, because this leads to destruction! The word used for "destruction" in this passage signifies eternal damnation.
So who is this gate, and why is it narrow?
The gate (door) and the way is Christ Himself. "I am the door of the sheep... If anyone enters by me, he will be saved" (John 10). "I am the way... No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14). And why then is the gate narrow? The reason is not that there are hard conditions and terms to meet. It is that man does not want to give up his own righteousness. Still clinging to his miserable, filthy rags, he refuses God's way and God's door of salvation, which is Christ and Christ alone.
A narrow gate limits what a person can carry through. So what must someone leave behind?
The gate, road, or way is open at present, and it is narrow. The real entrance is faith in Christ and conversion to God. Striving to enter does not mean effort that earns entrance as a reward. It means a man throwing himself on the grace of God in Christ. A man cannot bring anything of himself through such a gate. All that belongs to self must stay outside for ever.
Why does one gate repel and the other attract?
You refused the narrow gate, because it let in neither self-will nor fleshly lust. You loved the wide gate and the broad way, because you set your heart on what you called liberty, seeking and doing what you liked in defiance of God's will. You found the narrow gate repulsive, because it forced you to stoop to God. Your pride and your passions both resented that. To enter through it, you had to meet God on your own and face Him alone about your sins. If you had been in earnest, you would have seen that He is our Saviour God, who wants all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.
The verse says many go in by the wide gate. Does a crowd make a road safe?
Follow the multitude, as it follows the wise according to the flesh, the mighty, and the noble, and you are lost. Public opinion may be well enough for things of this life; but it is never founded on God's word.
The wide gate attracts because it sets no limits. But where does its road end?
On this way there are no restrictions. For everything is allowed on this way. But it ends in eternal destruction. The inviting, wide entrance blinds and misleads many. They shut their eyes to where they will end up. Most people do not board a train or plane without knowing when and where the journey is meant to end. But when it comes to the most important journey, the journey of life, multitudes never think about the end or their destiny. They lull themselves into a false sense of security.
The gate opens onto a road. What kind of road is it?
The "Narrow Way" begins at the "Strait Gate." (Matt. 7:13-14). The Greek word here for "Narrow" is thlibo, meaning 'compressed.' It is also translated 'afflicted' (2 Cor. 1:6); 'suffer tribulation' (1 Thess. 3:4); 'troubled' (2 Cor. 7:5)… The Bible makes it unmistakeably clear that the "Narrow Way" is a way of tribulation.
What does false teaching do with this gate?
There is a moral connection between the two things. One main mark of what is false is this: it tries to make the gate large and the road broad. It denies the special way in which God calls souls to know Himself.
The danger here is not a closed door. It is a road taken by mistake.
The point here is not that the door is shut. It is that men mistake which road is which: they take the broad way of destruction for God's narrow way of life.
- Decision — The verse is a call to decide, and the destruction it names is eternal.
- Door — The narrow gate is Christ Himself: "I am the door of the sheep."
- Dropped — Nothing of self passes through; all that belongs to it stays outside for ever.
- Deceived — The crowd is the trap, not the proof; public opinion is never founded on God's word.
- Destination — The wide road allows everything and ends in destruction; the narrow road is a way of tribulation that leads to life.
For narrow the gate and straitened the way that leads to life, and they are few who find it.
The verse ends a pair of pictures. One gate is wide, with a crowd streaming through it. The other is narrow, with a hard road behind it and life at the end. The obvious questions are what makes the entrance so tight, and why, if it leads to life, so few ever find it.
Older translations call this the "strait gate" and the "narrow way." One writer traces the word behind "hard" through the rest of the New Testament, where it is the ordinary word for pressure and trouble.
The "Narrow Way" begins at the "Strait Gate" (Matt. 7:13-14). The Greek word here for "Narrow" is thlibo, meaning 'compressed.' It is also translated 'afflicted' (2 Cor. 1:6) and 'troubled' (2 Cor. 7:5). Scripture uses the related word thlipsis over and over again to describe the normal path of the Christian through this world. For instance, thlipsis appears in John 16:33: "In the world you will have tribulation." The Bible makes it unmistakably clear that the "Narrow Way" is a way of tribulation.
The narrowness, though, belongs to the road and not to what waits at its end:
The gate is narrow, hemmed in by tight limits, and it does not appeal to our sinful nature. The whole way is narrow too, but it leads to life, where there is no confinement at all.
One writer names both the gate and the road, and then says what makes the entrance so tight:
The gate (door) and the way is Christ Himself. "I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved" (John 10). "I am the way… no one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14). And why then is the gate narrow? Not because there are certain conditions and hard terms to meet. It is because man does not want to give up his own righteousness. Still clinging to his miserable, filthy rags, he refuses God's way and God's door of salvation, which is Christ and Christ alone.
Another writer adds that grace could not have offered any other terms:
Self-righteousness must come down. Christ must be the absolute and complete Saviour, which He alone can be. For great numbers of people these terms are too strict to accept… Yet grace itself can make no other terms.
The gate is a moment; the way is a lifetime. One writer sets the two roads side by side and names what divides them:
Not only is it a narrow entrance, but narrow all the way; the path is narrow. There are two paths in the world. The broad one speaks of pleasing yourself with no thought of God. The narrow one is the path of self-denial. "If anyone would come after me, let him take up his cross daily and follow me." This is not the Lord's cross, but every believer has his own cross in a world like this.
The natural assumption is that the broad road means open wickedness. One writer rejects that reading.
Many no doubt think the broad way stands for vice and open godlessness, set against the way of holiness. But a closer look will convince us that it is not so. For no one expects, however careless he may be about it, the way of sin to lead heavenward. Instead, the Lord plainly points to this as what the writer of Proverbs speaks of — "There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death" (Prov. 14:12). The question is of finding the way of life.
That is why the danger is not a locked door but a mistaken one:
The door is not shut here. The problem is that men mistake which door it is. They take the broad way of destruction for God's narrow way of life.
Following this road costs something in reputation. One writer names that cost and answers it:
In the world the way may seem tiresome, but faith can bear it, in view of what is infinitely better. There is even the added trial of being accused of personal narrowness and bigotry. If only few find it, still it is God's way.
One writer turns it into a direct question:
Reader, how is it with you? Have you entered through the narrow gate of conversion to God? Have you repented toward God and believed on our Lord Jesus Christ? … Do not deceive your own soul, and do not let others deceive you.
- Narrow — the word means compressed. The same root gives the words for affliction and tribulation. The road is hard going.
- Narrow because of Christ — the gate and the way are Christ Himself. The gate is tight not because the terms are hard, but because self-righteousness cannot fit through.
- Narrow all along — the two roads are self-pleasing and self-denial. The narrow one calls for a daily cross, not just a decision at the entrance.
- Few, because the road is mistaken — the broad way is not open vice. It is a way that seems right, so the crowd on it never suspect where it ends.
- Life at the end — the confinement belongs to the road, not to the life it leads to. If only few find it, it is still God's way, entered by repentance and faith.
But beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but within are ravening wolves.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
By their fruits ye shall know them. Do [men] gather a bunch of grapes from thorns, or from thistles figs?
The Lord has just warned His disciples about false prophets in sheep's clothing. Now He gives them a test anyone can use: look at what a tree produces. But what counts as "fruit"? Why thorns and thistles? And how does an ordinary believer use the test when the teacher looks so good?
The disguise is deliberate. Behind it lies a plan to steal everything a Christian holds.
They may cultivate a show of holiness and pretend to devotion. But a mightier enemy than themselves controls them. They are filled with the keenest zeal to rob the Christian of a true Christ, of the eternal life he already has, of his present standing as God's righteousness in Christ, of his association with Him in and for heavenly glory. Are such not truly ravening wolves? What is left, if the disciple loses all the treasure that belongs to Christianity?
The Lord does not send His hearers to experts. He points to something everyone already knows.
To back up His warning against false prophets the Lord Jesus uses an illustration from creation. If you know nature well you will often be able to recognise a tree from a distance by its shape and its leaves. But even someone who does not know nature that well will generally be able to identify a tree by its fruit.
The word translated "recognize" is a strong one:
This word means "certain personal knowledge, and the recognition of the truth of a thing that follows from it" — "recognising because we know."
Bad conduct can be part of the fruit. But the test must reach further, because a false teacher may live an attractive life.
If our Lord meant nothing but evil deeds and wickedness, it would be hard indeed to detect these false ones. Satan is not so blind as to spread his lies through wicked people whose lives bear the stamp of immorality and open wickedness. He does it in quite another way. We were often told of people who hold the most detestable doctrines and deny the Deity of our Lord as well as the atonement: "But look at the beautiful lives they live! How meek and lovely they are!"... This outward moral appearance and a "sweet" temper belongs only too often to the sheep's clothing.
The caution runs both ways. The test looks at what is taught, not only at how the teacher behaves:
The fruit would make them known. But remember: this fruit is not always immoral conduct. If it were, the sheep's clothing would no longer stay on. It is rather their doctrines tested by experience, as when men look for grapes and find at best a mockery of them... on the other hand an evil life may dishonour the preacher of solid truth. But a true and needy soul, testing for itself the fruit of what is spoken, will certainly find that the truth has its own witness to the heart and conscience.
Grapes and figs feed people. Thorns and thistles only tear. That is what these teachers leave behind.
They have the character of thorns and thistles. They are harmful rather than productive, and give no food for the need of souls. No child of God should be deceived by them. They tickle men's ears, usually appealing to pride of intellect. But they know nothing of the truth that reaches consciences and hearts.
The test works because fruit is not an add-on. It comes out of what the tree is.
They are to be known not by their fine words but by their fruits. Fruit is the result and crowning expression of life, and it reveals the character of the life it crowns. The false prophet has a false life, which must reveal itself in false fruit.
It comes down to questions any believer can ask about a teacher.
Do they exalt Him who humbled Himself? Do they confess His incomprehensible being, God and man in one Person? Do they proclaim His grace and truth? Do they follow Christ in complete submission to Scripture?... Is the believer established? Is the sinner won and delivered? Or are minds filled with ideas that only inflate the spirit, encourage self-satisfaction, and end in death? These are practical effects that test what men teach. They are plain enough for simple souls who know little of Scripture and even less of human cleverness.
Christians have more than the disciples had on that hillside:
They were to know the false prophets by their fruits. But we have the Holy Spirit and the written word, so that we can "test the spirits to see whether they are from God." The two great tests are the person of Christ and the word of God.
- Disguise — the danger comes dressed as a sheep. Its aim is to rob you of a true Christ and all that comes with Him.
- Test — the Lord gives a test from daily life: you may not know the tree, but you know its fruit.
- Fruit — a lovely manner can be part of the costume. Test what is taught: does it feed or tear?
- Root — fruit expresses life. False fruit exposes a false life underneath.
- Verdict — does the teaching exalt Christ, obey Scripture, build believers, save sinners? The two great tests are the person of Christ and the word of God.
So every good tree produces good fruits, but the worthless tree produces bad fruits.
Jesus has just warned about false prophets who arrive dressed as sheep. Now He gives a test drawn from the orchard: what a tree produces tells you what a tree is. So if fruit follows nature, what hope is there for a bad tree?
The picture is ordinary, but the Lord leaves no middle case.
The Lord sets up a general principle: the quality of the tree decides the quality of the fruit. To stress this principle He adds that there are no exceptions. This principle from nature has a spiritual application. It is a simple but clear "either... or" which helps the disciple see where the message he is hearing comes from.
Bad behaviour is the obvious answer. It is not the first thing to look for.
The fruit would show them for what they are. But we must remember that this is not necessarily immoral conduct. If it were, the sheep's clothing would no longer remain. It is rather their doctrines tested by experience, as when men looking for grapes find nothing but at most a mockery of them. Satan, when he comes in as an angel of light, does not send out open evil-doers to recommend his doctrines. On the other hand, an evil life may dishonour a preacher of solid truth.
This answers the most common defence of a false teacher.
We were often told of people who hold the most detestable doctrines. They deny the Deity of our Lord as well as the atonement. And we were told, "But look at the beautiful lives they live! How gentle and lovely they are! How much good they do! Doesn't their life prove their doctrine is right, and the fruit show that the tree is not bad?" This outward moral appearance and a "sweet" temper belongs only too often to the sheep's clothing. It is one of the devices by which Satan tries to lead many away from the truth and into error.
There is a practical test here: does what you hear feed you?
They bear the character of thorns and thistles. They are harmful rather than productive, and they provide no food for the need of souls. No child of God should be deceived by them. They tickle men's ears and usually appeal to pride of intellect. But they know nothing of the truth that reaches consciences and hearts. Grapes and figs are healthy foods, but they are not available from thorns or thistles.
Why can no amount of care improve a diseased tree?
Then He shows how clearly it is a question of nature. You cannot change the nature.
If nature cannot change, the only hope is a new one.
In the same way, the natural heart is corrupt. It cannot bring forth good fruit, only evil thoughts which lead to evil deeds. But God gives the believer an entirely new disposition. It loves Him and the things which please Him.
Good fruit is never self-produced. It grows where the life of Christ is.
Neither the religious misbeliever nor the profane unbeliever produces good fruits. How could it be? Those who utter false oracles are trees the Father never planted. The worthless tree produces bad fruits, while every good tree produces good fruits. Christ is the true vine, and only those who abide in Him are branches that bear good fruit.
The disciples had fruit to watch. Believers today have more.
They were to know the false prophets by their fruits. But we have the Holy Spirit and the written word to test the spirits and see whether they are of God. The two great tests are the person of Christ and the word of God. If you find anything that lowers the person of Christ, you may be sure it is not of God. The Holy Spirit is here to glorify Christ. If we take this as a picture of men, there is none good, there is none that does good, not one. So if there is any good, it can only come from a new, a divine nature.
- Nature decides. The tree settles the fruit, not the other way round, and the Lord allows no exception to the rule.
- Nature cannot be improved. Care and cultivation cannot change a nature. A corrupt tree stays corrupt.
- Nature must be given. The only way good fruit ever appears is that God gives an entirely new disposition, one that loves Him.
- Nature shows in the fruit. Watch what a teacher feeds you, tested over time. The pleasant manner may be the sheep's clothing itself.
- Nature has its root in Christ. He is the true vine, and only those who remain in Him bear good fruit.
A good tree cannot produce bad fruits, nor a worthless tree produce good fruits.
The Lord has just warned about false prophets dressed as sheep, and here He gives the test that exposes them: fruit. His "cannot" is absolute, which raises two questions: what is this fruit, and can a bad tree ever change?
So what counts as fruit? One writer puts the prophet's message first, ahead of his conduct.
The fruits are first of all the words of the prophets. True prophets of God also may fail in their manner of life and their deeds, while false prophets are often marked by an especially likeable nature. This is why the fruits in this case are not only deeds but particularly the teaching that is brought. By them the disciples of Jesus will recognise whether the Spirit of God or a false spirit is speaking.
Verse 17 states the rule. Verse 18 shuts the door on exceptions, and that is what makes it useful. The older translations quoted here read "good tree" and "corrupt tree" where the ESV has "healthy" and "diseased".
To stress this principle He adds that there are no exceptions. This principle from nature has a spiritual application. It is a simple but clear "either… or" which helps the disciple to discern the spring from which the message he is hearing is coming.
Many assume bad fruit means open scandal. One writer warns that this misses the point: the deceiver's strategy depends on looking good.
If our Lord meant nothing but evil deeds and wickedness, it would be hard indeed to detect these false ones. Satan is not so blind as to spread his lies through wicked people whose lives are marked by open immorality and wickedness. He does it in quite another way. We were often told of people who hold the most detestable doctrines. They deny the Deity of our Lord and the atonement. Yet we hear: "But look at the beautiful lives they live! How meek and lovely they are! How much good they do! Does not their life prove that their doctrine is right? Does not the fruit show that the tree is not bad?" This outward moral appearance and a "sweet" temper is all too often part of the sheep's clothing.
So the test is not how impressive the teaching sounds. It is whether it feeds anyone.
They have the character of thorns and thistles. They harm rather than produce, and they do not supply food for the need of souls. They tickle men's ears. They usually appeal to the pride of intellect, but they know nothing of the truth that reaches consciences and hearts. Grapes and figs are healthy food, but you cannot get them from thorns or thistles.
"Cannot" moves the question from behaviour to nature. William Kelly, commenting on Luke's parallel account, notes what the Lord says here — and what He does not yet say.
Then He shows how clearly it is a question of nature… You cannot change the nature… He simply points out that there are two natures. He does not show them living side by side in the same person, though that is in fact the case even in the real believer.
If the nature settles the fruit, no effort can fix a corrupt tree. A gardener knows the problem well.
Suppose a gardener wants good fruit off a crab apple tree. He knows full well that fertilizers, careful pruning, and every encouragement nature can give will never produce good fruit. The tree will only produce crab apples — sour ones, larger ones, more of them. The gardener realises that the only way to get good fruit from that tree is to impart a new life, a life capable of producing good fruit.
So the verse does more than warn about teachers. It says something about every human being.
Here we have the clearest teaching of the doctrine we may call the A B C of the gospel. Man is totally depraved. Man is utterly ruined. So a new nature must be given to him. The tree is corrupt, the fruit is bad — that which is born of the flesh is flesh. The tree is good and the fruit is good — that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.
- Fruit tests the tree. The Lord's illustration is meant for use: fruit is how a disciple tells a true messenger from a false one.
- Fruit means teaching first. What a false prophet says exposes him, since a pleasant manner can be part of the disguise.
- Fruit means food. Grapes and figs feed people. Thorns and thistles only harm, however impressive they look.
- Fruit follows nature. "Cannot" leaves no exceptions. No one can reform a nature into producing what it is not.
- New nature, new fruit. No one cultivates a corrupt tree into a good one. New life comes first, and then good fruit.
Every tree not producing good fruit is cut down and cast into the fire.
Jesus is warning His hearers about false prophets who look like sheep, and He tells them how to spot one: look at the fruit. This verse is the verdict that follows — so what counts as "fruit," and who is standing under this axe?
This is not the first time these words are heard in Matthew. John the Baptist had said the same thing to the crowds at the Jordan, and the repetition is deliberate.
"Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire" (verse 19). John the Baptist had already spoken the same words when he warned the Jews about the coming wrath and called them to repentance (ch. 3:10). This double warning about God's judgment shows how serious the Lord Jesus' words are! The judgment waiting for the false prophets matches the holiness and justice of God. Yet it ought to warn the listeners too, so that eternal destruction does not swallow them up as well.
The verse exposes the deceiver and puts the listener on notice.
Fruit cannot rise above the life that produces it. That is why no amount of pruning saves a bad tree.
"A good tree cannot produce bad fruit, and a corrupt tree cannot produce good fruit." Take this as a picture of people, and "no one is good"; "no one does good, not even one." So if there is any good, it can only come from a new, a divine, nature. Thorns cannot produce grapes, nor thistles figs, and those who do not produce good fruit have only one end, and that is the fire.
Many readers assume fruit means open scandal. But commentators warn that this would make the test useless. A false teacher seldom looks immoral.
Satan is not so foolish as to peddle his lies through wicked people whose lives carry the stamp of immorality and open wickedness. He does it in quite another way. We are often told of people who hold the most terrible doctrines. They deny the Deity of our Lord and the atonement too. Yet we hear, "But look at the beautiful lives they live! How gentle and lovely they are! How much good they do! Doesn't their life prove their doctrine is right, and doesn't the fruit show the tree is not bad?" This outward moral appearance and a "sweet" temper is only too often part of the sheep's clothing. The soul who looks deeper than outward appearances tests the teaching by the Word, and finds the fruit missing — the glory of Christ, and glorying in Him.
So charm is no proof of truth. The test that works is the Word, and what it looks for is Christ.
The verse leaves only two outcomes. One of them is not correction but removal.
A good tree (a genuine believer) produces good fruit. Its quality may differ in different cases, but the fruit from the tree is not corrupt. As for the corrupt tree, it will be cut down and thrown into the fire of eternal torment, because it bears no good fruit at all.
Good fruit varies in measure. The line falls between a tree with life in it and a tree with none, not between strong believers and weak ones.
In winter, a fruitless tree looks just like the rest. That is what makes the warning urgent.
I saw a man the other day with an axe in his hand, laid at the root of a tree. It was winter, and the tree looked much like the others around it. They were all bare. Nothing on the outside marked any difference, or made a passer-by doubt that when spring came it would burst into leaf like the others. But someone had tested it and found it hollow; it was taking up ground for nothing, and it was cut down ready for the burning! Are you this tree?
John preached these same words first at the Jordan. There he named the one way of escape from the axe.
Notice here that the only good fruit John recognises, as the way of escape, is the sincere confession, through grace, of sin. Only those who make this confession escape the axe. There were really no good trees except those which confessed that they were bad.
- Root. Fruit only reveals the life already inside; a corrupt tree cannot produce good fruit, so any real good "can only come from a new, a divine, nature."
- Fruit. The test is not limited to open immorality — a gentle manner and a good reputation can themselves be part of the sheep's clothing.
- Axe. The warning comes twice, first from John the Baptist and then from Jesus. It lands on the hearers as much as on the false prophets.
- Fire. The fruitless tree is not pruned or replanted. It is cut down and burned — an end commentators call eternal destruction.
- Escape. Only those who admitted they were bad trees ever got past the axe — confession of sin, not improvement, is the way through.
By their fruits then surely ye shall know them.
This closing line ends the Lord's warning about false prophets. It repeats a test He gave four verses earlier: what a person produces shows what that person is. The verse raises practical questions. What counts as "fruit"? How far may we judge others by it? Does the same test apply to us?
The word that opens the verse looks back. The Lord states the same rule twice inside six verses, and commentators note that this repetition is deliberate — it is permission, not just description.
We must judge things as we meet them. We are responsible to the Lord, and for our own sake, to do so. But more than that, the same authority obliges us to judge persons also. "You will recognize them by their fruits" — twice repeated here (verses 16, 20) — is our direct warrant to do so.
But the same chapter opens with "Judge not, that you be not judged." Commentators answer that the two commands cover different things.
Some people say we are not to judge, and Matthew 7:1 is quoted as proof. We reply that the passage simply teaches us, as individuals, not to judge motives. Further on in the chapter, we are told to beware of false prophets. How can we beware, if we are not to judge? "You will recognize them by their fruits." So even as individuals, we are to judge conduct. We are not to judge motives but fruits.
Many readers assume fruit means scandalous behaviour. Commentators warn that this cannot be all. A deceiver who looks plainly wicked deceives nobody.
If our Lord meant nothing but evil deeds and wickedness, it would be hard indeed to detect these false ones. Satan is not so blind as to spread his lies through wicked people whose lives carry the mark of immorality and open wickedness. He does it in quite another way. We are often told of people who hold the most detestable doctrines and deny the Deity of our Lord as well as the atonement. We hear, "But look at the beautiful lives they live! How meek and lovely they are!"… This outward moral appearance and a "sweet" temper is only too often part of the sheep's clothing. … The soul that looks deeper than outward appearances soon finds that the false teacher or spirit is not in the truth. He tests the teaching by the Word, and finds the true fruit missing — the glory of Christ and glorying in Him.
So the first fruit to inspect is what comes out of the mouth — the message itself.
The fruits are first of all the words of the prophets. True prophets of God may also fail in the way they live and in what they do. False prophets, on the other hand, are often marked by a very likeable nature. This is why the fruits here are not only deeds but above all the teaching they bring. By them the disciples of Jesus will recognise whether the Spirit of God or a false spirit is speaking.
The test works because fruit is not an add-on to a life; it is that life reaching its outcome.
They are to be known not by their fine words but by their fruits. Fruit is the result and crowning expression of life. It reveals the character of the life it completes. The false prophet has a false life, which must reveal itself in false fruit.
The disciples hearing these words had only this rule to work with. One writer points out that Christians now have more, and he names what to check.
They were to know the false prophets by their fruits. But we have the Holy Spirit and the written word, so we can "test the spirits to see whether they are from God." The two great tests are the person of Christ, and the word of God. If you find anything that belittles the person of Christ, you may be sure it is not from God. The Holy Spirit is here to glorify Christ. Sheep's clothing is what suits a sheep. These false men look fine on the outside. But by their fruits you will know — or recognise — them.
The rule is not only a filter for teachers. It also shows what a real conversion looks like. But works are never the cause of salvation.
"You will recognize them by their fruits" is a test so obvious that it needs no proving. If a young man or woman professes to be converted, a changed life will certainly show it. It is true that salvation is by grace alone, through faith. It is "not a result of works, so that no one may boast" (Ephesians 2:9). It is equally true that believers "are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them" (Ephesians 2:10). These works do not earn salvation in the smallest degree. They are the evidence that we are saved.
- Root. Fruit is the crowning expression of a life. A false life must show itself in false fruit. That is why the test never fails.
- Fruit. Fruit is not only behaviour. It is above all teaching. A pleasant character can be part of the sheep's clothing, so weigh the message.
- Recognise. Believers now test the spirits by two things: the person of Christ and the word of God.
- Judge. "Judge not" forbids reading motives. This verse tells us to judge conduct. Otherwise no one could obey the call to beware.
- Self. The same test lands on our own profession: a changed life never buys salvation, but it is the evidence of it.
Not every one who says to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of the heavens, but he that does the will of my Father who is in the heavens.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Many shall say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied through *thy* name, and through *thy* name cast out demons, and through *thy* name done many works of power?
Jesus looks ahead to a day when crowds call Him Lord. They list the service they did in His name — prophecy, driving out demons, mighty works. Two questions follow. Which day does He mean? And how can real power work through people He will turn away?
One writer fixes the phrase to a definite event, then turns it on our own time.
When our Lord says "in that day," He means the day when the kingdom of the heavens is come by His return to the earth. Then many will prove to be empty in their profession. Despite their works and their use of His name, they were none of His. From this viewpoint, we may well look at our own times. The name of Christ is on many lips. Many speak in His name and do works of power in His name, yet they are not saved and do not know Him.
The number is the first shock of the verse.
The Lord Jesus warns people who lead religious lives and even do great deeds in His name, and yet are lost for eternity. He does not speak of a few here but of "many." They have done extraordinary things by calling on His name, and yet He must condemn them as wrongdoers.
Scripture gives real cases of gift and light without new birth.
There may be light in a sense without the smallest trace of life, and Balaam is an example. Scripture says the same about those who heard the word on rocky ground. They "immediately received it with joy" and "tasted the goodness of the word of God." Judas, too, could cast out demons as well as the rest.
So the most useful-looking ministry settles nothing about the minister.
No gift of power is a sign of eternal life, not even the edifying gift of prophesying. A man might be an apostle of Christ, but not a child of God. "You must be born again," begotten by the word of truth — which Judas never was. Outwardly near, he was really far off, not only a stranger in heart but an enemy. And so we read here of crowds who, unlike Judas, are deceived as well as deceivers.
That last line matters: these crowds fool themselves as well as others.
Notice what is missing from their plea.
Our souls may well pause over truth like this, and take the warning. "Did we not prophesy in Your name? I never knew you." There was no communion in spirit, though the hand or the tongue may have been used by the Lord.
Look at who the Lord is speaking to here, and what He asks of them.
Entering the kingdom of the heavens here means the kingdom in its glory, and the next verse fixes that by the words "in that day"… Clearly, the whole discourse says not a word about the new birth, and still less about redemption. Here the Lord is not telling sinners how to be saved. He is teaching His disciples how to walk before the Father in heaven… There may be seeming devoutness and great earnestness. But without living faith in Christ, a person neither knows God nor judges himself. The Lord insists on true obedience.
Behind the empty profession, one thing is missing: life.
Many profess His name. They boast of redemption in Him and the forgiveness of offences, but never think of present life in Him. Sadly, they deceive themselves… They say, Lord, Lord; but they are false to His name. Had they believed, they would have had life in His name, and brought forth fruit of righteousness.
The warning lands on the present, not only on a future crowd.
Nothing is more solemn than the words of the Lord Jesus, as His eye travelled over the wide world of profession… Look around you now. What do you see? Men are playing out a great piece of hypocrisy — religion without reality, a noisy and showy profession that deceives souls and drags them down to hell, respectable and religious all the way.
- Day — "That day" is the day the kingdom comes, when the Lord tests every claim made in His name.
- Many — The warning covers a crowd, not a fringe. These people fool themselves, not only others.
- Power — Balaam and Judas show that gift, light and even miracles can run ahead of life. Service in His name settles nothing.
- Knowing — Their plea lists works and never mentions communion with Christ. The Lord may use the hand while the heart stays a stranger.
- Reality — What stands is living faith that obeys the Father's will. Profession without life is only a name, and it falls in that day.
and then will I avow unto them, I never knew you. Depart from me, workers of lawlessness.
The Sermon on the Mount ends with a courtroom scene. People who used the name of Jesus in public service hear Him disown them. His words raise the hardest question a religious person can face. Can someone work in Christ's name and never have belonged to Him?
These people did not fall away. They were never His. One commentator weighs the exact words:
Such people may have been very active in what is called Christian work. They have preached. They have cast out demons — that is, their influence was such that men and women found deliverance from satanic power through their ministry in the name of Jesus. They have professed with their lips, and they have done many wonderful works. Yet in that day they are found among the lost. When they plead their great activity and their earnestness in Christian testimony, the Lord says to them, "I never knew you." Notice what He does not say. He does not say, "I used to know you, but you have forfeited My favour and I no longer know you." He says, "I never knew you."
The Lord is not saying He lacked information about them. He means a knowing that runs both ways:
They were servants of His, gifted with power to serve Him. That does not prove they were in a living relationship with Him. These were not, for He says: "I never knew you." That He is omniscient and knows all men is just what the Word says. But here it is knowledge involving intimacy in the divine life and nature. Jesus says, "I know My own and My own know Me, just as the Father knows Me and I know the Father." That is the intimacy He shares with all His own.
Gifts of power impress. They prove nothing:
No gift of power is a sign of eternal life, not even the edifying gift of prophesying. A man might be an apostle of Christ, but not a child of God. "You must be born again," born through the word of truth. Judas never was. He was outwardly near, but really far off.
The name He gives them is worth weighing. It covers more than breaking one written law:
Here the Lord calls those who are eternally damned "workers of lawlessness." The Jews listening to Him were ignoring and breaking the law God gave at Sinai. In other places lawlessness means more than that. Take 1 John 3:4, where we read: "Sin is lawlessness." Lawlessness there is rebellion against the will of God, and that will binds every man. Lawlessness therefore is the true character of every sin. So these workers of lawlessness are not the only guilty ones. All who refuse to submit to the will of God are guilty too, even if they have done great things in the name of the Lord during their lives.
If saying "Lord, Lord" cannot save, what does the passage press instead?
To say Lord, Lord, without doing His Father's will, is worthless. Whatever the works of power, their profession was hollow. It only deepened their guilt, and it will add to their endless remorse. They had no life in Christ, and so no obedience — yet every believer is sanctified to obey. Without holiness no one will see the Lord. The point here is that obedience is required of everyone who bears His name.
Behind the busy service there was one omission — they had never come in by the narrow gate themselves:
Many who have professed to be servants of Christ may have done great things in His name. Yet they never knew the value of His sin-atoning work for their own souls. They never entered by the narrow gate for their own salvation. How very awful this is! They may have striven to do "wonderful works" in His name. But they never knew what it was to "strive to enter through the narrow door."
Commentators differ on the moment intended. One places it at the final judgment throne:
This awful moment will take place when these people, who falsely professed His name, appear before the throne of Christ to receive their final sentence of damnation (Rev. 20:11-15).
Another ties it to the Lord's return to earth:
Nor does this word here in Matthew refer us to the great white throne. When our Lord says "in that day," He means the day when the kingdom of the heavens has come by His return to the earth. Then many will turn out to be people who merely professed. Despite their works and their use of His name, they were not His at all.
- Never knew — the verdict is not a cancelled relationship but an absent one; He does not say He knew them once.
- Known, not noted — the knowing in question is intimacy, not information; He knows all men, but He owns His own.
- Power proves nothing — preaching, casting out demons and mighty works can all go with a heart that was never born again, as Judas showed.
- Lawlessness named — the charge is not one crime. It is a settled refusal to submit to God's will, however impressive the service.
- Obedience is the mark — saying "Lord" proves nothing; doing the Father's will does. Behind every empty claim is a soul that never entered by the narrow gate.
Whoever therefore hears these my words and does them, I will liken him to a prudent man, who built his house upon the rock;
The Sermon on the Mount ends with a builder, a house, and a storm. Everything rests on what a person does with the words just spoken. The question is not whether we admire Christ's teaching. It is whether our life stands on it when the weather turns.
This picture is not an extra illustration tacked on. It seals everything Jesus has just taught, and it points to the authority of the One speaking.
Finally, the seventh section puts the seal on Christ's teachings. His perfect words are a rock foundation for anyone who builds on them. When the final storms come, that building will not be overthrown. This is the seal eternity will set upon Christ's word. Meanwhile, the authority of the Speaker shines through His decisive, unmatched sayings. This is the present seal: "He was teaching them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes."
The verse pairs two verbs: hearing and doing. Commentators read that pair as the line between what is real and what is only claimed.
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," and so on. The coming would speak of faith… It shows that if there is only hearing and no doing, the root of the matter is not there… Hearing, with the doing as well, supposes reality. Nothing but reality will do for God. Here it is clearly reality in contrast with mere profession.
The test falls on anyone who claims to follow Him.
He explains what really matters in the lives of those who call themselves His disciples: not only to hear His words but also to do them. The words of James often remind us of what the Lord Jesus says here: "But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves."
Does this make obedience the price of salvation? One writer answers by looking back over the whole sermon.
The parable does not teach salvation by works, but salvation by that living faith which leads to the works. Look back over the Sermon on the Mount. We see at once that nothing but genuine faith in Him could lead anyone to do the things He taught.
Everything in the parable turns on what lies underneath, not on how the house looks.
Now for the stability of a house the foundation matters most. If the foundation is not firm, it makes no difference how well the house is built. It will go down with the foundation. Christ and His words are here the rock that lasts; everything else, whatever it may be, is only sand. The one who puts His sayings into practice in a living way will build a house that survives the storm.
The rock is not an idea or a moral code. It is a Person, named again and again in Scripture.
The rock on which a wise man builds the "house" of his life is Christ. He is the rock that went with the people of Israel through the wilderness. He is the rock on which His church is built. He is the living stone we come to when we believe in Him. And here at the end of the Sermon on the Mount He is also the unshakeable foundation of the practical life of faith. When the wise man builds the house of his life on the rock Jesus Christ, it does not fall but stands for ever. It means he directs his life by the Lord Jesus and His word. That is the only way we can prove our love for Him.
The wise builder is not promised fair weather. The storm hits both houses. It only shows what was already underneath.
Often only a crisis shows whether a house stands on a solid foundation or not. At first glance a house may look as if it stands on firm ground. But a storm can prove otherwise.
One writer looks past today's troubles to a final storm.
Heaven is silent today: no bolts of fire come down from there to drive the guilty into eternal misery. But before long a real hurricane of divine wrath will break out. It will show beyond dispute where people really stand. Every unreal structure will then topple and fall. The finest moral and religious appearance will not shield you from judgement if you have not trusted, as a lost sinner, in the Saviour and in His precious blood.
- Foundation — the rock is Christ Himself, together with His words. Everything else, however respectable, is sand.
- Hearing — hearing alone settles nothing. Doing is what marks the real disciple.
- Faith — obedience is not the payment for salvation. It is the evidence of the living faith that alone could produce it.
- Storm — the crisis tests every house. It does not build the foundation; it exposes the one already laid.
- Standing — the house on the rock does not fall. It stands for ever.
and the rain came down, and the streams came, and the winds blew and fell upon that house, and it did not fall, for it had been founded upon the rock.
The Sermon on the Mount does not end with a promise of calm weather. It ends with a storm, and the same storm hits both houses in the story. The difference is not the building. It is what lies underneath. This verse gives the result first, then the reason.
A storm does not test the walls of a house. It tests what the house stands on.
The rain pours down. The floods press on the foundations. The storm blows against the walls. All of this will prove the worth of a house's foundations. If they are laid on a high rock the storm may well damage the house but it will not be able to destroy it.
Three forces hit the house, from three directions. No one who claims the name of Christ escapes them.
The wise man's house, built on a rock, withstands the floods and storms. In the same way the believer obeys the words of the Lord Jesus, who is Himself "the rock of ages." He will be kept from destruction through the rain from above, the floods from beneath and the winds from around. Everyone who professes the name of Christ will be tested by all these things. The genuine believer, resting on Christ Himself, will withstand every such adversity.
The verse gives one reason the house stood, and it has nothing to do with the walls. The word behind "founded" means fastened down to what a house rests on.
"Founded" suggests the idea of being "secured to the foundation": so in Matthew 7:25 and Luke 6:48 it is "founded on a rock."
The foundation settles the outcome. Good work above ground counts for nothing. In fair weather the wrong foundation can even look like the better choice.
For the stability of a house, the foundation matters most. If the foundation is not firm, it makes no difference how well the house is built: it will go with the foundation. Christ and His words are here the rock that lasts. Everything else, whatever it is, is only sand. The one who truly puts His words into practice will build a house that endures the storm. No one else and nothing else will. While the fair weather lasts, the house on sand may well look better than the one set on rock, and the man who trusts it may enjoy a passing triumph. Too soon! And when the storm comes, it is too late to fix it.
So what is the rock? One writer follows the word through Scripture.
The rock upon which a wise man builds his life's "house" is Christ. He is the "rock" that went with the people of Israel through the wilderness (1 Cor. 10:4). He is the "rock" on which His church is built (Matt. 16:18). He is the living stone we come to when we believe in Him (1 Pet. 2:4). And here at the end of the Sermon on the Mount He is also the unshakeable foundation of the practical life of faith.
Both men in the story heard the same words. What separated them was obedience.
Heeding 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 verse does not say the storm left the house untouched. It says the house did not fall.
A disciple wanting to be faithful to the Lord and obey His word — that is the wise man in our parable — can fail also. Nor will he be spared trials. Some events will shake the life of even the strongest believer to its very foundation. But he knows his house stands on solid rock and will not fall. And he has the full and unshakeable security of salvation for eternity as well.
One writer looks past today's storms to a final, public one.
Heaven is silent today: no bolts of fire come down to drive the guilty into eternal misery. But before long a real hurricane of divine wrath will burst out. It will show beyond dispute where men stand. Every unreal structure will then totter and fall. The finest moral and religious appearance will not shield people from judgement. It is no shelter for anyone who has never come as a lost sinner to trust in the Saviour and in His precious blood.
- Founded. The one word that explains why the house stood means fastened to what is under it. Nothing above ground gets the credit.
- Rock. That foundation is Christ Himself: the rock of the wilderness, the rock of the church, the living stone. It is not a rule or a religious habit.
- Doing. Both builders heard. Obedience is what fastens a life to the rock, and obedience survives every shock.
- Storm. Rain from above, floods from beneath, winds from around. Every person who names Christ meets the test.
- Standing. A house on rock can be battered and shaken, yet it does not fall. The house that only looked good in fair weather has no remedy once the weather turns.
And every one who hears these my words and does not do them, he shall be likened to a foolish man, who built his house upon the sand;
The Sermon on the Mount closes with two builders side by side. This verse describes the second one. He listens to everything Jesus has just said, then builds his life as though he had not heard a word. The question the verse forces is not whether a person has heard Christ, but what hearing has produced.
The foolish builder is not an outsider. He hears Christ, and hearing changes what is expected of him.
If someone does not hear, you cannot speak of building at all. Hearing brings responsibility with it. Here it is: "and does not do them." John 13 says, "If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them." God will not reward us for knowing alone, though it is a blessed thing to be "filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding." He rewards us for doing. "Blessed are you if you do them."
Sand is not nothing. It looks like ground, and a house does go up on it.
On the other hand, the one building on sand hears the words of the Lord Jesus. But he fails to take them to heart in a way that leads him to obey them. He is still considered to be building. He simply builds on sand: the shifting uncertainty of men's thoughts, with no solid basis of fact. Judgment will sweep this away. The greater the pride and effort put into building the house, the greater its fall.
Nothing in the verse faults this man's building work. His mistake is that he never asked what was underneath.
The foolish man's thoughts do not go very deep. He builds a house as it pleases him without considering the foundation. In 'building our lives' there is a great temptation to value the things we can see. We then neglect the deeper matter of the foundation, which is essential to a life for God. Everyone who hears and knows the words of Scripture — the commandments of the Lord — and does not follow them acts like the foolish man.
Some people call Jesus Lord and mean nothing by it. This verse shows why. Fruit comes from a life received from Him, and where that life is missing, nothing grows.
It is not redemption only that sinful man needs, but life eternal. In Jesus only are both found, and the believer receives both. Many profess His name and boast of redemption in Him, the forgiveness of offences, but never think of present life in Him. They deceive themselves… They say, Lord, Lord; but they are false to His name. Had they believed, they would have had life in His name, and brought forth fruit of righteousness.
The obedient life does not save anyone. It shows what a person is resting on.
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 — the foundation of a house built secure against all the storms that can strike 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 surer and more fatal the ruin that awaits him. "The ruin of that house is great."
The house on sand stands while the weather is fine. The test comes later.
It would indeed be better to have no house at all than to have one built on sand. Agreement in the mind, bare belief, is only a sandy foundation. Then the hurricane of death comes to those who only profess His name. The rain falls, the floods come, the winds blow and beat on their house. How terrible when the veil of their self-deception lifts and their house falls — too late ever to be rebuilt on the Rock.
- Heard. The foolish builder is a listener. Hearing Christ's words brings responsibility. The reward comes for doing them, not for knowing them.
- Shallow. He never asks what is under his house — he builds as it pleases him, on the shifting uncertainty of men's thoughts.
- Hollow. Saying "Lord, Lord" without present life in Christ is self-deception. Where there is no life, there is no fruit of righteousness.
- Evidence. Obedience does not justify anyone, but it does show that Christ is the real foundation of the soul.
- Great. The house stands until the storm hits. The more real the misplaced confidence, the greater the fall. Better no house at all than one on sand.
and the rain came down, and the streams came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell, and its fall was great.
The Sermon on the Mount ends with a collapse. Two men build, the same storm hits both houses, and only one house stands — so what makes the difference?
Both builders work. Both put up something that looks like a house. What separates them is out of sight, and it only matters when the weather turns.
In both cases we are shown the builder of a house. The house is the place of his affections and his rest. Above all, as we see it here, it is his shelter and refuge from the storm. Now for the stability of a house the foundation is the matter of first importance. If the foundation is not firm, no matter how solidly the house is built: it will go with the foundation. Christ and His words are here the rock that abides; all else, whatever its nature, is but sand. While the fair weather lasts, the house on sand may well look better than the house on rock, and the man who trusts it may enjoy a passing triumph. Too soon! And when the storm comes, it is too late to put things right.
The foolish man is not described as lazy or wicked. He simply never asked the one question that mattered.
The foolish man's thoughts do not go very deep. He builds a house as it pleases him without considering the foundation. There is a great temptation in 'building our lives' to put importance on those things that we can see outwardly and neglect the deeper matter of the foundation that is essential to a life for God.
The sand is not nothing. It is what a man builds on when he hears Christ's words and does not obey them.
The man building on sand is the one who hears the words of the Lord Jesus and then fails to take them to heart and obey them. He is still building, but only on sand — the shifting uncertainty of men's thoughts, with no solid basis of fact. Judgment will sweep this away. The greater the pride and effort put into the building, the greater the fall of the house.
Good works make the same sand. A person can work hard at building and still be building on himself.
Many are building upon their own works, imagining that they have in them a sufficiently strong foundation. They are badly deceived, for their works are only shifting sand. The day is coming when the winds of judgment will blow, and the floods of righteous wrath will lift up their voice. Then their empty hope will perish, their building will collapse, and they themselves will have no shelter for ever in a lost eternity.
The foolish builder heard every word. His deception runs in one direction only.
Think of the man who likes to listen to nice sermons and explanations of truth, but has no concern that his life should be governed by what he hears. Clearly he is not likely to deceive anyone else. Even the unbelievers he comes into contact with will soon detect how unreal he is. But he may sadly deceive himself.
The bigger the confidence a man misplaces, the bigger the ruin.
Not that the best life will justify before God, or save in the day when everything that can be shaken will be shaken. Still, such a life is evidence that Christ is the foundation of the soul — the foundation of a house that stands secure against every storm 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, and the surer and more deadly the ruin waiting for him.
William Kelly writes on the same story in Luke's Gospel. He asks who is most at risk.
The man who has heard and not done is like someone who built a house on the ground, without a foundation. That is exactly what has marked the Christian world and Judaism then and since. The stream broke on that house, and at once it fell; and the ruin of that house was great. So it will be. The heaviest blow of the Lord returning in glory will not fall on pagans who have never heard. It will fall on the baptized who have heard the Gospel and not obeyed it.
The doing that marks the wise man is the evidence of faith, not a substitute for it.
This parable does not teach salvation by works. No one can stand before God on the basis of his own works but only as he has faith in the Lord Jesus. Then the life will be followed by works of faith. Such is one of the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount. A mere profession without faith is worthless but on the other hand there is no true faith without works.
- Foundation — the two houses differ underneath, not on the surface. Whatever is not Christ and His words is sand.
- Fair weather — for a while the sand house can look better than the rock house, and its owner enjoys a passing triumph.
- Self-deception — the hearer who never obeys fools no one but himself. Even unbelievers soon see he is unreal.
- Storm — rain, flood and wind show what was really there. By then it is too late to change foundations.
- Great — the ruin matches the trust a person placed in it. The more real his faith in anything but Christ, the more complete his collapse.
And it came to pass, when Jesus had finished these words, the crowds were astonished at his doctrine,
The Sermon on the Mount ends here. Matthew records what it did to the people who heard it: they were astonished. Two questions follow. Who can speak like this? And what does astonishment prove?
Jesus taught His disciples. But a much larger crowd stood listening, and Matthew reports how they reacted.
"And when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching" (v. 28). The Lord's sermon has come to an end. His words were meant first of all for His disciples (see ch. 5:1), but the crowd listening was much larger. Many had listened to this serious and clear teaching, and it astonished them. It was different from what they were used to hearing from the Jewish scribes. His words were full of authority, wisdom and grace (Mark 1:22; 6:2; Luke 4:22).
The scribes were the recognised teachers of the day. One writer describes what leaning on them had done to Israel.
God's prophets had been silent for four hundred years, so the Jews had grown used to leaning on their rabbis. They had shown the same unbelief even in the days of the greatest prophets, as Isaiah testifies (Isa. 29:13). In Israel, and later among Christians, it was a sea of uncertainty and a clash of learned or reckless opinions. How could it be otherwise, when they were cheated into giving up God's word for man's ideas?
The same writer traces the root of the problem, and its result in any age.
Wherever trust in man takes the place of the truth, the result is always uncertainty before God. That is why people crave tradition, official authority passed down from one man to the next, and other such props for a weakness they feel inside... They were a class of men who handed on some knowledge of Scripture, crusted over with a coating of tradition that often hid and twisted even what was true in itself.
Why did He sound so different? One writer points back to a promise God made through Moses.
Until now the people had been shut up to the law given through Moses. Now they were to listen to the prophet like Moses (Deut. 34:10). Moses said that God would put His words into that prophet's mouth, and He would speak everything God commanded Him. From then on, blessing depended on people listening to Him. No wonder they saw a difference in Him. He taught, they said, as one who had authority, and not as their scribes (Matt. 7:29)! He was the prophet, but more than a prophet: He was God, the Son of God.
Authority like this needs a speaker who knows both man and God.
The Lord alone on earth was qualified to speak with an authority that was His own. More than anyone else He knew what was in man (John 2:25). He alone here below knew what was in God (John 3:11)... On the other hand, no one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is at the Father's side, has made Him known. So He is in every way qualified to speak with authority. Yet who was ever so humble?
What made that authority convincing? One writer looks past the miracles.
No wonder the crowds were astonished. No wonder they found this teaching different from the strange fancies, the outward show and the traditionalism of the scribes... This claim of authority called for the miracles that came with it. Yet it did not rest even on these. Above all it rested on the plain holiness and love and truth that summoned mind, heart and conscience into His presence, and made the whole person bow in reverence.
The crowd stopped at astonishment. That still happens today.
Many people today are still impressed by the words of the Sermon on the Mount. But they think they can use those words to lead mankind out of the misery and injustice of our world! So many admire the human greatness of Jesus of Nazareth without receiving Him by faith as the Son of God, their Saviour and Lord!
One writer adds a caution for anyone reading the sermon in search of peace with God.
To any anxious soul let me say, Do not mistake. The Lord is not here showing how the sinner is to get pardon and peace. He is teaching His disciples how they are to walk and please their Father.
- Speaker. He knew what was in man and what was in God. That is why He alone could teach with an authority of His own.
- Contrast. The scribes handed on Scripture crusted over with tradition. Leaning on them left Israel in a sea of uncertainty.
- Weight. The authority rested not even on miracles, but on the holiness, love and truth that were plainly there.
- Reaction. The crowd stopped at astonishment. They admired the greatness of Jesus without receiving Him as Saviour and Lord.
- Caution. The sermon shows disciples how to walk and please their Father; it is not the way a sinner gets pardon and peace.