"What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one
of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after
that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth
it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together
his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have
found my sheep which was lost. I say unto you, that likewise joy shall
be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and
nine just persons, which need no repentance"—Luke 15:4-7.
OUR Lord Jesus Christ while he was here below was continually in the
pursuit of lost souls. He was seeking lost men and women, and it was for
this reason that he went down among them, even among those who were most
evidently lost, that he might find them. He took pains to put himself where
he could come into communication with them, and he exhibited such kindliness
toward them that in crowds they drew near to hear him. I dare say it was
a queer-looking assembly, a disreputable rabble, which made the Lord Jesus
its centre. I am not astonished that the Pharisee, when he looked upon
the congregation, sneered and said, "He collects around him the pariahs
of our community, the wretches who collect taxes for the foreigner of God's
free people; the fallen women of the town, and such-like riffraff make
up his audiences; he, instead of repelling them, receives them, welcomes
them, looks upon them as a class to whom he has a peculiar relationship.
He even eats with them. Did he not go into the house of Zaccheus, and the
house of Levi, and partake of the feasts which these low people made for
him?" We cannot tell you all the Pharisees thought, it might not be edifying
to attempt it; but they thought as badly of the Lord as they possibly could,
because of the company which surrounded him. And so, he deigns in this
parable to defend himself;—not that he cared much about what they might
think, but that they might have no excuse for speaking so bitterly of him.
He tells them that he was seeking the lost, and where should he be found
but among those whom he is seeking? Should a physician shun the sick? Should
a shepherd avoid the lost sheep? Was he not exactly in his right position
when there "drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear
him"?
Our divine Lord defended himself by what is called an argumentum ad
hominem, an argument to the men themselves; for he said, "What man of you,
having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not go after that
which is lost, until he find it?" No argument tells more powerfully upon
men than one which comes close home to their own daily life, and the Saviour
put it so. They were silenced, if they were not convinced. It was a peculiarly
strong argument, because in their case it was only a sheep that they would
go after, but in his case it was something infinitely more precious than
all the flocks of sheep that ever fed on Sharon or Carmel; for it was the
soul of man which he sought to save. The argument had in it not only the
point of peculiar adaptation, but a force at the back of it unusually powerful
for driving it home upon every honest mind. It may be opened out in this
fashion,—"If you men would each one of you go after a lost sheep, and follow
in its track until you found it, how much more may I go after lost souls,
and follow them in all their wanderings until I can rescue them?" The going
after the sheep is a part of the parable which our Lord meant them to observe:
the shepherd pursues a route which he would never think of pursuing if
it were only for his own pleasure; his way is not selected for his own
ends, but for the sake of the stray sheep. He takes a track up hill and
down dale, far into a desert, or into some dark wood, simply because the
sheep has gone that way, and he must follow it until he finds it. Our Lord
Jesus Christ, as a matter of taste and pleasure, would never have been
found among the publicans and sinners, nor among any of our guilty race:
if he had consulted his own ease and comfort he would have consorted only
with pure and holy angels, and the great Father above; but he was not thinking
of himself, his heart was set upon the lost ones, and therefore he went
where the lost sheep were; "for the Son of man is come to seek and to save
that which was lost." The more steadily you look at this parable the more
clearly you will see that our Lord's answer was complete. We need not this
morning regard it exclusively as an answer to Pharisees, but we may look
at it as an instruction to ourselves; for it is quite as complete in that
direction. May the good Spirit instruct us as we muse upon it.
I. In the first place, I call attention to this observation: THE
ONE SUBJECT OF THOUGHT to the man who had lost his sheep. This sets
forth to us the one thought of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd,
when he sees a man lost to holiness and happiness by wandering into sin.
The shepherd, on looking over his little flock of one hundred, can only
count ninety-nine. He counts them again, and he notices that a certain
one has gone: it may be a white-faced sheep with a black mark on its foot:
he knows all about it, for "the Lord knoweth them that are his." The shepherd
has a photograph of the wanderer in his mind's eye, and now he thinks but
little of the ninety and nine who are feeding in the pastures of the wilderness,
but his mind is in a ferment about the one lost sheep. This one idea possesses
him: "a sheep is lost!" This agitates his mind more and more—"a sheep is
lost." It masters his every faculty. He cannot eat bread; he cannot return
to his home; he cannot rest while one sheep is lost.
To a tender heart a lost sheep is a painful subject of thought. It is
a sheep, and therefore utterly defenseless now that it has left its defender.
If the wolf should spy it out, or the lion or the bear should come across
its track, it would be torn in pieces in an instant. Thus the shepherd
asks his heart the question—"What will become of my sheep? Perhaps at this
very moment a lion may be ready to spring upon it, and, if so, it cannot
help itself!" A sheep is not prepared for fight, and even for flight it
has not the swiftness of its enemy. That makes its compassionate owner
the more sad as he thinks again—"A sheep is lost, it is in great danger
of a cruel death." A sheep is of all creatures the most senseless. If we
have lost a dog, it may find its way home again; possibly a horse might
return to its master's stable; but a sheep will wander on and on, in endless
mazes lost. It is too foolish a thing to think of returning to the place
of safety. A lost sheep is lost indeed in countries where lands lie unenclosed
and the plains are boundless. That fact still seems to ring in the man's
soul—"A sheep is lost, and it will not return, for it is a foolish thing.
Where may it not have gone by this time? Weary and worn, it may be fainting;
it may be far away from green pastures, and be ready to perish with hunger
among the bare rocks or upon the arid sand." A sheep is shiftless; it knows
nothing about providing for itself. The camel can scent water from afar,
and a vulture can espy its food from an enormous distance; but the sheep
can find nothing for itself. Of all wretched creatures a lost sheep is
one of the worst. If anybody had stepped up to the shepherd just then,
and said, "Good sir, what aileth you? you seem in great concern;" he would
have replied, "And well I may be, for a sheep is lost." "It is only one,
sir; and I see you have ninety-nine left." "Do you call it nothing to lose
one? You are no shepherd yourself, or you would not trifle so. Why, I seem
to forget these ninety-nine that are all safe, and my mind only remembers
that one which is lost."
What is it which makes the Great Shepherd lay so much to his heart the
loss of one of his flock? What is it that makes him agitated as he reflects
upon that supposition—"if he lose one of them"?
I think it is, first, because of his property in it. The parable does
not so much speak of a hired shepherd, but of a shepherd proprietor. "What
man of you having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them." Jesus, in
another place, speaks of the hireling, whose own the sheep are not, and
therefore he flees when the wolf comes. It is the shepherd proprietor who
lays down his life for the sheep. It is not a sheep alone, and a lost sheep,
but it is one of his own lost sheep that this man cares for. This parable
is not written about lost humanity in the bulk—it may be so used if you
please—but in its first sense it is written about Christ's own sheep; as
also is the second parable concerning the woman's own money; and the third,
not concerning any prodigal youth, but the father's own son. Jesus has
his own sheep, and some of them are lost; yea, they were all once in the
same condition; for "all we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned
every one to his own way." The parable refers to the unconverted, whom
Jesus has redeemed with his most precious blood, and whom he has undertaken
to seek and to save: these are those other sheep whom also he must bring
in. "For thus saith the Lord God; Behold I, even I, will both search my
sheep, and seek them out. As a shepherd seeketh out his flock in the day
that he is among his sheep that are scattered; so will I seek out my sheep,
and will deliver them out of all places where they have been scattered
in the cloudy and dark day." The sheep of Christ are his long before they
know it—his even when they wander; when they are brought into the fold
by the effectual working of his grace they become manifestly what they
were in covenant from of old. The sheep are Christ's, first, because he
chose them from before the foundations of the world—"Ye have not chosen
me, but I have chosen you." His, next, because the Father gave them to
him. How he dwells upon that fact in his great prayer in John 17: "Thine
they were, and thou gavest them me;" "Father, I will that they also, whom
thou hast given me, be with me where I am." We are the Lord's own flock,
furthermore, by his purchase of us; he says: "I lay down my life for the
sheep." It is nearly nineteen centuries ago since he paid the ransom price,
and bought us to be his own; and we shall be his, for that purchase-money
was not paid in vain. And so the Saviour looks upon his hands, and sees
the marks of his purchase; he looks upon his side, and sees the token of
the effectual redemption of his own elect unto himself by the pouring out
of his own heart's blood before the living God. This thought, therefore,
presses upon him, "One of my sheep is lost." It is a wonderful supposition,
that is contained in this parable—"if he lose one of them." What! lose
one whom he loved before ever the earth was? It may wander for a time,
but he will not have it lost for ever, that he cannot bear. What! lose
one whom his Father gave him to be his own? Lose one whom he has bought
with his own life? He will not endure the thought. That word—"if he lose
one of them" sets his soul on fire. It shall not be. You know how much
the Lord has valued each one of his chosen, laying down his life for his
redemption. You know how dearly he loves every one of his people: it is
no new passion with him, neither can it grow old. He has loved his own
and must love them to the end. From eternity that love has endured already,
and it must continue throughout the ages, for he changeth not. Will he
lose one of those so dearly loved? Never; never. He has eternal possession
of them by a covenant of salt, wherein the Father has given them to him:
this it is that in great measure stirs his soul so that he thinks of nothing
but this fact,—One of my sheep is lost.
Secondly, he has yet another reason for this all-absorbing thought,
namely, his great compassion for his lost sheep. The wandering of a soul
causes Jesus deep sorrow; he cannot bear the thought of its perishing.
Such is the love and tenderness of his heart that he cannot bear that one
of his own should be in jeopardy. He can take no rest as long as a soul
for whom he shed his blood still abides under the dominion of Satan and
under the power of sin; therefore the Great Shepherd neither night nor
day forgets his sheep: he must save his flock, and he is straitened til
it be accomplished.
He has a deep sympathy with each stray heart. He knows the sorrow that
sin brings, the deep pollution and the terrible wounding that comes of
transgression, even at the time; and the sore heart and the broken spirit
that will come of it before long; so the sympathetic Saviour grieves over
each lost sheep, for he knows the misery which lies in the fact of being
lost. If you have ever been in a house with a mother and father, and daughters
and sons, when a little child has been lost, you will never forget the
agitation of each member of the household. See the father as he goes to
the police-station, and calls at every likely house; for he must find his
child or break his heart. See the deep oppression and bitter anguish of
the mother; she is like one distracted until she has news of her darling.
You now begin to understand what Jesus feels for one whom he loves, who
is graven on the palms of his hands, whom he looked upon in the glass of
his foreknowledge, when he was bleeding his life away upon the tree; he
hath no rest in his spirit til his beloved is found. He has compassion
like a God, and that doth transcend all the compassion of parents or of
brothers,—the compassion of an infinite heart brimming over with an ocean
of love. This one thought moves the pity of the Lord—"if he lose one of
them."
Moreover, the man in the parable had a third relation to the sheep,
which made him possessed with the one thought of its being lost,—he was
a shepherd to it. It was his own sheep, and he had therefore for that very
reason become its shepherd; and he says to himself, "If I lose one of them
my shepherd-work will be ill-done." What dishonour it would be to a shepherd
to lose one of his sheep! Either it must be for want of power to keep it,
or want of will, or want of watchfulness; but none of these can appertain
to the Chief Shepherd. Our Lord Jesus Christ will never have it said of
him that he has lost one of his people, for he glories in having preserved
them all. "While I was with them in the world, I kept them in thy name:
those that thou gavest me I have kept, and none of them is lost, but the
son of perdition; that the scripture might be fulfilled." The devil shall
never say that Jesus suffered one whom his Father gave him to perish. His
work of love cannot in any degree become a failure. His death in vain!
No, not in jot or tittle. I can imagine, if it were possible, that the
Son of God should live in vain; but to die in vain! It shall never be.
The purpose that he meant to achieve by his passion and death he shall
achieve, for he is the Eternal, the Infinite, the Omnipotent; and who shall
stay his hand, or baffle his design? He will not have it. "If he lose one
of them," says the passage; imagine the consequence. What scorn would come
from Satan! What derision would he pour upon the Shepherd! How hell would
ring with the news, "He hath lost one of them." Suppose it to be the feeblest;
then would they cry, "He could keep the strong, who could keep themselves."
Suppose it to be the strongest; then would they cry, "He could not even
keep one of the mightiest of them, but must needs let him perish." This
is good argument, for Moses pleaded with God, "What will the Egyptians
say?" It is not the will of your Father which is in heaven that one of
these little ones shall perish, neither is it for the glory of Christ that
one of his own sheep should be eternally lost.
You see the reason for the Lord's heart being filled with one burning
thought; for first, the sheep is his own; next, he is full of compassion;
and then again, it is his office to shepherd the flock.
All this while the sheep is not thinking about the shepherd, or caring
for him in the least degree. Some of you are not thinking at all about
the Lord Jesus. You have no wish nor will to seek after him! What folly!
Oh, the pity of it, that the great heart above should be yearning over
you to-day, and should fall to rest because you are in peril, and you,
who will be the greater loser, for you will lose your own soul, are sporting
with sin, and making yourself merry with destruction. Ah, me! how far you
have wandered! How hopeless would your case be if there were not an Almighty
Shepherd to think upon you.
II. Now we come to the second point, and observe THE ONE OBJECT OF
SEARCH. This sheep lies on the shepherd's heart, and he must at once set
out to look for it. He leaves the ninety-and-nine in the wilderness and
goes after that which is lost until he find it.
Observe here that it is a definite search. The shepherd goes after the
sheep, and after nothing else; and he has the one particular sheep in his
mind's eye. I should have imagined, from the way in which I have seen this
text handled, that Christ, the Shepherd, went down into the wilderness
to catch anybody's sheep he could find. Many were running about, and he
did not own any one of them more than another, but was content to pick
up the one that he could first lay hold upon; or rather, that which first
came running after him. Not so is the case depicted in the parable. It
is his own sheep that he is seeking, and he goes distinctly after that
one. It is his sheep which was lost,—a well-known sheep; well known not
only to himself, but even to his friends and neighbours,—for he speaks
to them as if it was perfectly understood which sheep it was that he went
to save. Jesus knows all about his redeemed, and he goes definitely after
such and such a soul. When I am preaching in the name of the Lord, I delight
to think that I am sent to individuals with the message of mercy. I am
not going to draw the bow at a venture at all; but when the Divine hands
are put on mine to draw the bow, the Lord takes such aim that no arrow
misses its mark; into the very centre of the heart the word finds its way;
for Jesus goes not forth at a peradventure in his dealings with men. He
subdues the will and conquers the heart, making his people willing in the
day of his power. He calls individuals and they come. He says, "Mary,"
and the response is, "Rabboni." I say, the man in the parable sought out
a distinct individual, and rested not til he found it; so does the Lord
Jesus in the movements of his love go forth at no uncertainty; he does
not grope about to catch whom he may, as if he played at Blindman's-buff
with salvation, but he seeks and saves the one out of his own sheep which
he has his eye upon in its wanderings. Jesus knows what he means to do,
and he will perform it to the glory of the Father.
Note that this is an all-absorbing search. He is thinking of nothing
but his own lost sheep. The ninety-and-nine are left in safety; but they
are left. When we read that he leaves them in the wilderness we are apt
to think of some barren place; but that is not intended: it simply means
the open pasturage, the steppe, the prairie: he leaves them well provided
for, leaves them because he can leave them. For the time being he is carried
away with the one thought that he must seek and save the lost one, and
therefore he leaves the ninety-and-nine in their pasture. "Shepherd, the
way is very rocky!" He does not seem to know what the way is, his heart
is with his lost sheep."Shepherd, it is a heavy climb up yon mountainside."
He does not note his toll; his excitement lends him the feet of the wild
goat; he stands securely where at other times his foot would slip. He looks
around for his sheep and seems to see neither crag nor chasm. "Shepherd,
it is a terrible path by which you must descend into yonder gloomy valley."
It is not terrible to him: his only terror is lest his sheep should perish;
he is taken up with that one fear, and nothing else. He leaps into danger,
and escapes it by the one strong impulse which bears him on. It is grand
to think of the Lord Jesus Christ with his heart set immovably upon the
rescue of a soul which at this moment is lost to him.
It is an active search too; for observe, he goes after that which is
lost, until he finds it; and he does this with a personal search. He does
not say to one of his underlings, "Here, hasten after that sheep which
was lost, and bring it home." No, he follows it himself. And if ever there
is a soul brought from sin to grace, it is not by us poor ministers working
alone, but it is by the Master himself, who goes after his own sheep. It
is glorious to think of him still personally tracking sinners, who, though
they fly from him with a desperateness of folly, yet are still pursued
by him—pursued by the Son of God, by the Eternal Lover of men—pursued by
him until he finds them.
For notice the perseverance of the search: "until he find it." He does
not stop til he has done the deed. You and I ought to seek after a soul,
how long? Why, until we find it; for such is the model set before us by
the Master. The parable says nothing about his not finding it; no hint
of failure is given; we dream not that there may be a sheep belonging to
him which he will never find. Oh, brethren, there are a great many whom
you and I would never find; but when Jesus is after his own lost sheep,
depend upon it such is his skill, so clearly does he see, and so effectually
does he intervene, that he will surely bring them in. A defeated Christ
I cannot conceive of. It is a personal search, and a persevering search,
and a successful search, until he finds it. Let us praise and bless his
name for this.
Observe that when the shepherd does find it, there is a little touch
in the parable not often noticed,—he does not appear to put it back into
the fold again: I mean, we do not find it so written, as a fact to be noted.
I suppose he did so place it ultimately; but for the time being he keeps
it with himself rather than with its fellows. The next scene is the shepherd
at home, saying, "Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was
lost." It looks as if Jesus did not save a soul so much to the church as
to himself, and though the saved are in the flock, the greatest joy of
all is that the sheep is with the shepherd. This shows you how thoroughly
Christ lays himself out that he may save his people. There is nothing in
Christ that does not tend toward the salvation of his redeemed. There are
no pullbacks with him, no half-consecrated influences which make him linger.
In the pursuit of certain objects we lay out a portion of our faculties;
but Jesus lays out all his powers upon the seeking and saving of souls.
The whole Christ seeks after each sinner; and when the Lord finds it,
he gives himself to that one soul as if he had but that one soul to bless.
How my heart admires the concentration of all the Godhead and manhood of
Christ in his search after each sheep of his flock.
III. Now, we must pass on very briefly to notice a third point. We
have had one subject of thought and one object of search; now we have ONE
BURDEN OF LOVE. When the seeking is ended, then the saving appears,—"When
he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing." Splendid action
this! How beautifully the parable sets forth the whole of salvation. Some
of the old writers delight to put it thus: in his incarnation he came after
the lost sheep; in his life he continued to seek it; in his death he laid
it upon his shoulders; in his resurrection he bore it on its way, and in
his ascension he brought it home rejoicing. Our Lord's career is a course
of soul-winning, a life laid out for his people; and in it you may trace
the whole process of salvation.
But now, see, the shepherd finds the sheep, and he lays it on his shoulders.
It is an uplifting action, raising the fallen one from the earth whereon
he has strayed. It is as though he took the sheep just as it was, without
a word of rebuke, without delay or hesitancy, and lifted it out of the
slough or the briers into a place of safety. Do you not remember when the
Lord lifted you up from the horrible pit? When he sent from above, and
delivered you, and became your strength? I shall never forget that day.
What a wonderful lift it was for me when the Great Shepherd lifted me into
newness of life. The Lord said of Israel, "I bare you on eagles' wings;"
but it is a dearer emblem still to be born upon the shoulders of the incarnate
Lord.
This laying on the shoulders was an appropriating act. He seemed to
say, "You are my sheep, and therefore I lay you on my shoulders." He did
not make his claim in so many words, but by a rapid action he declared
it: for a man does not bear away a sheep to which he has no right: this
was not a sheep-stealer, but a shepherd-proprietor. He holds fast the sheep
by all four of its legs, so that it cannot stir, and then he lays it on
his own shoulders, for it is all his own now. He seems to say, "I am a
long way from home, and I am in a weary desert; but I have found my sheep,
and these hands shall hold it." Here are our Lord's own words, "I give
unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall
any pluck them out of my hand." Hands of such might as those of Jesus will
hold fast the found one. Shoulders of such power as those of Jesus will
safely bear the found one home. It is all well with that sheep, for it
is positively and experimentally the Good Shepherd's own, just as it always
had been his in the eternal purpose of the Father. Do you remember when
Jesus said unto you, "Thou art mine"? Then I know you also appropriated
him, and began to sing—
"So I my best Beloved's am,
And he is mine."
More condescending still is another view of this act: it was a deed
of service to the sheep. The sheep is uppermost, the weight of the sheep
is upon the shepherd. The sheep rides, the shepherd is the burden-bearer.
The sheep rests, the shepherd labours. "I am among you as he that serveth,"
said our Lord long ago. "Being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself,
and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." On that cross
he bore the burden of our sin, and what is more, the burden of our very
selves. Blessed be his name, "The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of
us all," and he hath laid us on him, too, and he beareth us. Remember that
choice Scripture: "In his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he
bare them, and carried them all the days of old." Soul-melting thought,
the Son of God became subservient to the sons of man! The Maker of heaven
and earth bowed his shoulders to bear the weight of sinners.
It was a rest-giving act, very likely needful to the sheep which could
go no further, and was faint and weary. It was a full rest to the poor
creature if it could have understood it, to feel itself upon its shepherd's
shoulders, irresistibly carried back to safety. What a rest it is to you
and to me to know that we are born along by the eternal power and Godhead
of the Lord Jesus Christ! "The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety
by him, and he shall dwell between his shoulders." The Christ upbears us
to-day: we have no need of strength: our weakness is no impediment, for
he bears us. Hath not the Lord said, "I have made, and I will bear; even
I will carry and will deliver you"? We shall not even stumble, much less
fall to ruin: the shepherd's feet shall traverse all the road in safety.
No portion of the way back should cause us fear, for he is able to bear
us even to his home above. What a sweet word is that in Deuteronomy: "The
Lord thy God bare thee, as a man doth bear his son, in all the way that
ye went, until ye came into this place." Blessed rest of faith, to give
yourself up entirely to those hands and shoulders to keep and carry you
even to the end! Let us bless and praise the Lord. The shepherd is consecrated
to his burden: he bears nothing on his shoulders but his sheep; and the
Lord Jesus seemeth to bear no burden but that of his people. He lays out
his omnipotence to save his chosen; having redeemed them first with price
of blood, he redeems them still with all his power. "And they shall be
mine, saith the Lord, in that day when I make up my jewels." Oh the glorious
grace of our unfailing Saviour, who consecrates himself to our salvation,
and concentrates upon that object all that he has and is!
IV. We close by noticing one more matter, which is—THE ONE SOURCE
OF JOY. This man who had lost his sheep is filled with joy, but his
sheep is the sole source of it. His sheep has so taken up all his thought,
and so commanded all his faculties, that as he found all his care centred
upon it, so he now finds all his joy flowing from it.
I invite you to notice the first mention of joy we get here: "When he
hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing." "That is a great
load for you, shepherd!" Joyfully he answers, "I am glad to have it on
my shoulders." The mother does not say when she has found her lost child,
"This is a heavy load." No; she presses it to her bosom. She does not mind
how heavy it is; it is a dear burden to her. She is rejoiced to bear it
once again. "He layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing." Remember that text:
"Who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the
shame." A great sorrow was on Christ when our load was laid on him; but
a greater joy flashed into his mind when he thought that we were thus recovered
from our lost estate. He said to himself, "I have taken them up upon my
shoulders, and none can hurt them now, neither can they wander to destruction.
I am bearing their sin, and they shall never come into condemnation. The
penalty of their guilt has been laid on me that it may never be laid on
them. I am an effectual and efficient Substitute for them. I am bearing,
that they may never bear, my Father's righteous ire." His love to them
made it a joy to feel every lash of the scourge of justice; his love to
them made it a delight that the nails should pierce his hands and feet,
and that his heart should be broken with the absence of his Father, God.
Even "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani," when the deeps of its woe have been
sounded, will be found to have pearls of joy in its caverns. No shout of
triumph can equal that cry of grief, because our Lord joyed to bear even
the forsaking by his Father for the sin of his chosen whom he had loved
from before the foundation of the world. Oh, you cannot understand it except
in a very feeble measure! Let us try to find an earthly miniature likeness.
A son is taken ill far away from home. He is laid sick with a fever, and
a telegram is sent home. His mother says she must go and nurse him; she
is wretched til she can set out upon the journey. It is a dreary place
where her boy lies, but for the moment it is the dearest spot on earth
to her. She joys to leave the comforts of her home to tarry among strangers
for the love of her boy. She feels an intense joy in sacrificing herself;
she refuses to retire from the bedside, she will not leave her charge;
she watches day and night, and only from utter exhaustion does she fall
asleep. You could not have kept her in England, she would have been too
wretched. It was a great, deep, solemn pleasure for her to be where she
could minister to her own beloved. Soul, remember you have given Jesus
great joy in his saving you. He was for ever with the Father, eternally
happy, infinitely glorious, as God over all; yet he must needs come hither
out of boundless love, take upon himself our nature, and suffer in our
stead to bring us back to holiness and God. "He layeth it on his shoulders,
rejoicing." That day the shepherd knew but one joy. He had found his sheep,
and the very pressure of it upon his shoulders made his heart light, for
he knew by that sign that the object of his care was safe beyond all question.
Now he goes home with it, and this joy of his was then so great that
it filled his soul to overflowing. The parable speaks nothing as to his
joy in getting home again, nor a word concerning the joy of being saluted
by his friends and neighbours. No, the joy of having found his sheep eclipsed
all other gladness of heart, and dimmed the light of home and friendship.
He turns around to friends and neighbours and entreats them to help him
to bear the weight of his happiness. He cries, "Rejoice with me, for I
have found my sheep which was lost." One sinner had repented, and all heaven
must make holiday concerning it. Oh, brethren, there is enough joy in the
heart of Christ over his saved ones to flood all heaven with delight. The
streets of Paradise run knee-deep with the heavenly waters of the Saviour's
joy. They flow out of the very soul of Christ, and angels and glorified
spirits bathe in the mighty stream. Let us do the same. We are friends
if we are not neighbours. He calls us to-day to come and bring our hearts,
like empty vessels, that he may fill them with his own joy, that our joy
may be full. Those of us who are saved must enter into the joy of our Lord.
When I was trying to think over this text I rejoiced with my Lord in the
bringing in of each of his sheep, for each one makes a heaven full of joy.
But, oh to see all the redeemed brought in! Jesus would have no joy if
he should lose one: it would seem to spoil it all. If the purpose of mercy
were frustrated in any one instance it were a dreary defeat of the great
Saviour. But his purpose shall be carried out in every instance. He "shall
see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied." He shall not fail
nor be discouraged. He shall carry out the will of the Father. He shall
have the full reward of his passion. Let us joy and rejoice with him this
morning!
But the text tells us there was more joy over that one lost sheep than
over the ninety-and-nine that went not astray. Who are these just persons
that need no repentance? Well, you should never explain a parable so as
to make it run on four legs if it was only meant to go on two. There may
not be such persons at all, and yet the parable may be strictly accurate.
If all of us had been such persons, and had never needed repentance, we
should not have given as much joy to the heart of Christ as one sinner
does when he repents. But suppose it to mean you and me who have long ago
repented—who have, in a certain sense, now no need of repentance, because
we are justified men and women—we do not give so much joy to the heart
of God, for the time being, as a sinner does when he first returns to God.
It is not that it is a good thing to go astray, or a bad thing to be kept
from it. You understand how that is: there are seven children in a family,
and six of them are all well; but one dear child is taken seriously ill,
and is brought near to the gates of death. It has recovered, its life is
spared, and do you wonder that for the time being it gives more joy to
the household than all the healthy ones? There is more expressed delight
about it a great deal than over all those that have not been ill at all.
This does not show it is a good thing to be ill. No, nothing of the kind;
we are only speaking of the joy which comes of recovery from sickness.
Take another case: you have a son who has been long away in a far country,
and another son at home. You love them both equally, but when the absent
son comes home he is for a season most upon your thoughts. Is it not natural
that it should be so? Those at home give us joy constantly from day to
day, but when the stream of joy has been dammed back by his absence, it
pours down in a flood upon his return. Then we have "high days and holy
days" and "bonfire nights."
There are special circumstances about repentance and conversion which
produce joy over a restored wanderer. There was a preceding sorrow, and
this sets off the joy by contrast. The shepherd was so touched with compassion
for the lost sheep, that now his sorrow is inevitably turned into joy.
He suffered a dreadful suspense, and that is a killing thing; it is like
an acid eating into the soul. That suspense which makes one ask, Where
is the sheep? Where can it be? is a piercing of the heart. All those weary
hours of searching, and seeking, and following are painfully wearing to
the heart. You feel as if you would almost sooner know that you never would
find it than be in that doubtful state of mind. That suspense when it is
ended naturally brings with it a sweet liberty of joy. Moreover, you know
that the joy over penitents is so unselfish that you who have been kept
by the grace of God for many years do not grieve that there should be more
joy over a repenting sinner than over you. No, you say to yourself, "There
is good cause. I am myself among those who are glad." You remember that
good men made great rejoicing over you when you first came to Jesus; and
you heartily unite with them in welcoming newcomers. You will not act the
elder brother, and say, I will not share the joy of my Father. Not a bit
of it; but you will enter heartily into the music and dancing, and count
it your heaven to see souls saved from hell. I feel a sudden flush and
flood of delight when I meet with a poor creature who once lay at hell's
dark door, but is now brought to the gate of heaven. Do not you?
The one thing I want to leave with you is how our gracious Lord seems
to give himself up to his own redeemed. How entirely and perfectly every
thought of his heart, every action of his power, goes toward the needy,
guilty, lost soul. He spends his all to bring back his banished. Poor souls
who believe in him have his whole strength engaged on their behalf. Blessed
be his name! Now let all our hearts go forth in love toward him, who gave
all his heart to work our redemption. Let us love him. We cannot love him
as he loved us as to measure; but let us do so in like manner. Let us love
him with all our heart and soul. Let us feel as if we saw nothing, knew
nothing, loved nothing save Jesus crucified. As we filled all his heart
let him fill all our hearts!
Oh, poor sinner, here to-day, will you not yield to the Good Shepherd?
will you not stand still as he draws near? Will you not submit to his mighty
grace? Know that your rescue from sin and death must be of him, and of
him alone. Breathe a prayer to him,—"Come, Lord, I wait for thy salvation!
Save me, for I trust in thee." If thou dost thus pray, thou hast the mark
upon thee of Christ's sheep, for he saith, "My sheep hear my voice, and
I know them, and they follow me." Come to him, for he comes to you. Look
to him for he looks to you.
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PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON—John 15:1-24.