The Sinlessness of Jesus

The Sinlessness of Jesus THE SINLESSNESS OF JESUS
By W. W. Otey When the Pharisees were gathered together Jesus asked them saying, “What think ye of Christ? whose son is he?” (Matthew 22:41-42). The hope of a sorrowing world depends upon the correct answer to that question. If he is only the son of man, all hope of a future and better life is vain. If he is the Son of God, man’s greatest hope is made sure. That he is the Son of God may be proved from any one of several viewpoints. The viewpoint to be considered in this address is, Did he live a sinless life? To determine the guilt or innocence of a man there must be first, a law by which to measure his deeds. Second, truth witnesses. If no reliable witness testifies that the one on trial has violated the law, he is adjudged innocent. Jesus must be tried by the same rule. But in proving him to be sinless, it is permissible to introduce certain other evidences that are, in the very nature of the case, not applicable to any other life. The first incontestable evidence that Jesus must of necessity be sinless is the fact that man requires one who is sinless in order ever to return to God. Sin separated man from God so that he could no longer appear in the immediate presence of God, and needed one who is sinless to appear in his behalf. Nor is a sinless mediator all that man needed. A sacrifice and offering for sin, an atonement, was needed that could “take away sin.” Such a sacrifice must be sinless, voluntarily offered, and of such merit as to atone for sin. All these requirements of man’s needs are united in Jesus. Not one of them has ever been found or even claimed in any other one who has lived among men. He came from God; is as divine as God; yet as human as man. He is the only one in all history for whom it has ever been claimed that he came from God; is as divine as God; yet as human as man; lived sinless; voluntarily offered himself as a sacrifice for sin in order to bring man back to God; was raised from the dead and ascended to God, there to appear in man’s behalf. These claims have never been made for anyone else except Jesus. By what law shall he be tried to determine his guilt or innocence? First, by the law of Moses under which he lived. Second, by his own teaching which has been universally accepted as the highest law ever given to man. Third, by the standard of purity and holiness agreed on by Jew, Christian, ancient Pagan and modern moralists. He stands before every known standard of law known to man, not only not condemned, but sinless. This has been the verdict of friend and foe. Who shall be called to testify? First, those who knew him personally, both friend and enemy. Second, all who have viewed his life with the most extreme critical ability. Judas, who lived with him daily for more than three years, brought back the thirty pieces of silver given for his betrayal, cast it down at the feet of the Jewish rulers, and said, “I have sinned in that I have betrayed innocent blood” (Mntt. 27:3, 4). Pilate, the Roman Governor, after hearing the conflicting testimony of the Jewish mob, though desiring to find occasion to declare him guilty in order to appease the mob, said, “I find no fault in him” (John 18:38). Not a word of testimony was given to prove that he had violated either the law of Moses or the civil Roman law. In all the trials before the council of the Jews and before Pilate, only one charge was sustained; he said he was the Son of God. And for that claim, and for none other, he died. When his Jewish brethren were railing against him, he boldly asked: “Which of you convicteth me of sin?” They were silent. It is true that on one occasion the Jews charged him with breaking the Jewish Sabbath. But his reply again silenced them. It was only by perverting the meaning of the law of the sabbath that they could so charge him. For nearly two thousand years the enemies of Jesus have been critically examining the life of Jesus as set forth in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. It is safe to say that his enemies have all agreed that the life pictured by his four biographers, when judged by all known standards of purity, presents a sinless character —attributed to Jesus. Jesus either lived a sinless life, and these writers were inspired to picture his life as sinless, or these four writers conspired to invent and picture a life that was sinless. No other writers in the history of letters have ever been able to picture any other life as sinless, either as fiction or true biography. And we are irresistibly forced to conclude that the character of the sinless Jesus was real, and they were guided by the Holy Spirit to accomplish that which never before nor since has been accomplished—describe a sinless life. Standing alone this fact over balances all adverse testimony ever given against him.

Peter, one of the twelve, said of him, “Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth.” And so testified all who lived with him.
Time and space will permit of but one other quotation. The great Emperor, Napoleon, when humbled by defeat, gave utterance from his prison on St. Helena, to a speech, so sublime, grand, and inspiring that it is perhaps not surpassed by any uninspired man. I can give only a few detached sentences here.

“I know men, and I tell you that Jesus Christ is not a man. Superficial minds see a resemblance between Christ and the founders of empires and the gods of other religions. That resemblance does not exist. There is between Christianity and whatever other religion the distance of infinity.” “Paganism is the work of man. One can here read but our imbecility. What do these gods, so boastful, know more than other mortals—these legislators, Greeks or Romans, this Numa, this lycurgus, these priests of India or of Memphis, this Confucius, this Mohammed? Absolutely nothing. They have made a perfect chaos of morals.”

“It is not so with Christ. Everything in him astonishes me. His spirit overawes me, and his will confounds me. Between him and whoever else in the world there is no possible term of comparison. He is truly a being by himself. His ideas and sentiments, the truths which he announces, his manner of convincing, are not explained either by human organization or the nature of things.”

“The nearer I approach, the more carefully I examine, everything is above me . . .”

“I search in vain in history to find the similar to Jesus Christ, or anything which can approach the gospel. Neither history, nor humanity, nor the ages, nor nature offer me anything with which I am able to compare or to explain it. Here everything is extraordinary. The more I consider the gospel, the more I am assured that there is nothing there which is not beyond the march of events, and above the human mind. Even the impious themselves have never dared to deny the sublimity of the gospel, which inspires them with a sort of compulsory veneration.”

“In every other existence but that of Christ, how many imperfections?” The Messiahship, by Walter Scott, 1860, pp. 153-57. The hour has come for the long expected mediator to be born. As the prophets had foretold that he was to be a king reigning over a universal kingdom it was expected that he would be born of royal blood in a palace. God’s plans were different. The expectant mother was turned away from the village inn because “there was no room.” Had the innkeeper but known, the best room would have been given her. What a slighted opportunity! How often may we have turned away the sinless Jesus in the person of some one of ‘The least of his brethren.” The humble but holy young Mary goes down to the village stable. How far removed from what men regarded as a suitable birth-place for a great king! He came from the greatest heights, from heaven itself, and made his abode in the humblest possible place—a stable. There the Redeemer is born. Look! Listen! Out there on the hills shepherds are keeping watch over their flocks by night. Behold the angel of the Lord appears, and the glory of the Lord shines about them. • See the shepherds as they fall to the ground trembling with fear. Listen as the angel, in tender tones, speaks to them, “Be not afraid: for behold, I bring to you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people: For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Look and listen again as there appears a “multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to men.” God’s promise is fulfilled; the Redeemer has come. The mediator between God and a sinful, fallen race is born. A merciful and faithful high priest, who can intercede for us in the immediate presence of God, is here. The prophetic promise, “a body didst thou prepare for me” to be offered willingly to “take away sin” lies quietly in the manger. In the east the wise men see his star that leads them westward and finally stands over where the young Jesus lies. See them as they present to him costly gifts and bow and worship him as an infant. What a privilege now to worship him on his throne!
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About thirty years later, a young man named John, appears in the wilderness of Judea preaching, saying, “Repent ye; for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Multitudes hear him, confess their sins and are baptized in Jordan. There is a great throng of people extending far back from the river. We see out there the dense crowd as it parts to make way for one who is coming to John. He comes near. We look anxiously at him. His walk is firm and measured. On his face we see calmness, power, purity. Not a trace of sin mars his serene face. He asks John to baptize him. John hesitates. He knows he is baptizing for the “remission of sins,” and he knows this young man has no sin to remit. He is perplexed, and says, “I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?” “Suffer it to be so now,” said Jesus, “for thus it be- cometh us to fulfill all righteousness.” Watch as John leads him out into the river, buries his body in the water, and raises him) up from the burial in baptism.” “Behold the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him.” Hear the voice of God from heaven, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

Jesus went immediately into the wilderness where he was tempted by Satan. In the beginning man was tempted, sinned and fell and was separated from God, and was conquered by death. Jesus came to conquer Satan and to undo his evil work. He was tempted and did not yield. He needed to be “tempted in all points like we yet without sin” “that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God,” and “be able to succor them that are tempted,” and “to make intercession for us.”

Let us now go with Jesus over to the city of Nain. As he nears the city he meets a funeral procession. Funerals are always sad because of the sorrow of relatives. But this is an unusually sad occasion. It is a young man. A promising youth taken away is sad. And he is the son, yes, the only son of a widow. Bereft of her husband, now burying her only son{ and perhaps her only means of a support. How heavy indeed must have been her sorrow. And when the Lord saw her he had compassion on her, and said unto her, “Weep not.” How strange to ask a heart-broken mother to cease weeping when about to bury her only son. But he knew her sorrow would soon be turned to joy. “And he came near and touched the bier; and the bearers stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee arise. And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak.” Infinite love and sympathy for the sorrowing widow. Would that we could sincerely believe that, even though seated at God’s right hand, he still has the same love and sympathy for us that he had for the widow of Nain.

After a day of toil teaching the people he said to his disciples, “Let us pass over unto the other side.” Being weary, he fell asleep on a pillow in the “hinder part of the ship.” A great storm of wind rises. The wind blows violently, the ship tosses, the waves run high and pour into the ship. At first the disciples are not alarmed. Some of them had spent most of their lives along the shore. Doubtless they think the worst will soon be over. But the fury of the wind increases, the waves roll higher, the little ship is filling with water. They are in the greatest danger of going down into the depths of the sea. They are frightened, and rush to the Lord, and cry out in terror, “Master! Master, rarest thou that we perish?” Jesus rises from his pillow. He hears the shrieking of the wind in the rigging, sees the waves as they roll high and spill over the sides, and feels the tossing of the ship. But there is no sign of fright in his face or voice. He knows that his Father “holds the waves in the hollow of his hand.” And why should he fear? It was “by him, through him and for him that all things were created.” He • was there when the earth, wind and sea were called into being. “He rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. And he said unto them, Why are ye fearful? Have ye yet not faith? And they feared exceedingly,, and said one to-.another, Who.bis .this, that even the wind and pea obey him ?” And yet when our souls are troubled by our little trials, we “fear exceedingly” because our faith is so weak that we do not fully trust our souls m his keeping.

Jesus is teaching iij the temple early one morning. Out toward the entrance we see a commotion. Some scribes and Pharisees are pressing their way through the dense crowd, bringing a prisoner to Jesus. Is it a robber or a murderer? The city is full of such uan> gerous criminals. No, it is just a poor woman who has made a mistake. They come near to Jesus and tauntingly ask, “Master, Moses commanded that such sinners should De stoned. No douiot about her guilt. She was taken in the very act.” Why were not both sinners arrested, if one could be? Public .sentiment let him go free just as public sentiment does today. Public sentiment then condemned the woman, the lesser sinner, and excused and set free ihe man, the greater sinner. Public sentiment today condemns the lesser sinner to social ostracism, while excusing the greater sinner. Ilut God has one standard of moral purity for both, but places the greater responsibility on man.

Jesus stoops down and writes on the ground as though he heard them not. “Master, master, Moses commanded that such as this woman should be stoned. What sayest thou?” Jesus lifted up himself, and said unto them, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” “Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.” In what manner did he utter those words? Did he, in ndignation, hiss them through clenched teeth? Or did he hurl them with the force of a thunder bolt? We are not told. But his words convicted her accusers of being at least as great sinners as she whom they desired to stone. Be-ginning with the eldest they went out till the last one was gone. Jesus raised up himself and in pity looked upon the trembling woman. “Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?” “No man, Lord.” “Neither do I condemn thee: Go and sin no more.” Did Jesus mean to encourage her, or any one now, to sin? A thousand times no. So terrible was sin that he came to die to make an atonement for sin. He only meant that it matters not how great one has sinned, nor how one may have been cast out and ostracized by men, yet if one repents and turns to God, the past is all blotted out. The love of the sinless Jesus reaches down to the worst sinner, offers full pardon if the sins are repented of and forsaken. Of all that Jesus said and did while on earth perhaps nothing else makes a stronger appeal to the discouraged, penitent sinner than this story.

There lived in Bethany Mary, Martha and Lazarus, whom “Jesus loved.” Lazarus became seriously sick. And what did the sisters do? Just what we do now when in deep distress. We send for those whom we love most. We want their love and sympathy just as Mary and Martha did when in sorrow. They send a hurried messenger way over beyond Jordan to tell Jesus, “He whom thou lovest is sick.” Jesus tarries two days, then says to his disciples, “Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I will go that I may awake him out of sleep.” “Lord, if he sleepeth, he will do well.” “Then said Jesus to them plainly, Lazarus is dead.” The saddest word heard by those in sorrow is that your loved one is “dead.” It means that the sparkling eyes, the sweet smile and tender voice will be seen and heard no more. Jesus added, “And I am glad,” What? Jesus glad that his friend and the only brother of the sisters is dead? Yes, but for a great reason. “I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe.” Yes, and that we who now live may believe that he will come again and call us from the dead to a better life.

There is no fast train, automobile or airplane to take him the long distance. The wearisome journey must be made a step at a time. He nears the home. A messenger brings word to the sisters that the Master is coming. Martha rises from her place of weeping and hurries out and meets Jesus, and from a broken heart, cries out, “Lord, if thou had been here my brother had not died.” She knew Jesus had raised up many from sickbeds, and she is sure had he been here in time he would have healed Lazarus. But now it is too late! Brother has been dead four days already, and since the world began no one has ever lived again being dead so long. Hear Jesus say to her “He shall live again.” “I know that he shall live again in the resurrection at the last day.” And then Jesus uttered words, the like of which human ears had never before heard. “I am the resurrection and the life.” Per-haps the strongest assurance that had ever been given of a coming resurrection till that hour.

“Where have ye laid him?” “Lord, come and see.” Yes, even the place where the dust of our loved ones he is sacred. Years ago, in Virginia, I preached much at Laurell Hill. I made my home with Brother Sale, who had two sons, Alva and Frank. Alva, one of the best boys I .ever knew, died and was buried over on the hill in the little family burying place. On Sunday morning Brother Sale got his hat and cane, with bowed head, went down the little lane, crossed the main highway, across the little meadow and up the hill. “Where is he going,” was my question to Sister Sale. “To Alva’s grave. He goes every Sunday morning.” As Jesus draws near the tomb, it is recorded, “Jesus wept.” Those two words have opened the hearts of countless numbers because it shows the love of the real sinless Jesus. “Behold, how he loved him,” said the Jews. “Some of them said, Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that this man should not have died?”

They arrive at the grave. “Take away the stone,” said Jesus. Martha objects, “Lord, by this time the body decayeth; for he hath been dead four days.” But the stone is removed. There we see Lazarus, wrapped in his shroud and a napkin about his head. There is no lifting of the chest in respiration; the heart is still. There lies Lazarus, did we say? Yes, but Lazarus is not there. That which we see is only the corruptible house in which Lazarus lived. He is in the paradise of God. When living in Indiana I was called by wire a long distance to speak at the funeral of Ed Bennet, a fine Christian youth, who had died under the surgeon’s knife. The scene was so strongly impressed on my mind that it remains vivid till this day. The father, mother, sister and seven brothers, stood around that casket, with streaming eyes, as they called, “Ed, 0 Ed, speak to us.” But Ed did not speak. He was not there. That which we looked upon was only the earthly house in which Ed had lived. He was in the unseen world. Some day our loved ones will gather around our old house of clay, and call it by the endearing name of father, mother, brother, sister, son or daughter. But we will not be there, and will not answer to their call.

Jesus offers a short prayer to his Father and then cries with a loud voice, “Lazarus come forth.” At the command of that voice, the blind had seen, the sick had been made whole, the deaf had heard, the winds and waves had obeyed, and here the dead came forth. The day is coming when all the dead will hear that voice and arise from the dead. “Loose him and let him go.” Since sin and death entered the world, no such assurance had been given of victory over death and to a better life. None but the sinless Jesus has ever been able to give such undoubted assurance of a coming resurrection.

“The hour draws near for him to depart out of this world.” He observed the passover with the twelve in a borrowed upper room. This is his last night with them, and being divine, he knew what was the best memorial for those who should afterward love him to keep him in memory. He gave thanks separately for a loaf and the cup, “the fruit of the vine,” and said, “this is my body . . . this is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured for many unto the remission of tins.” “This do in memory of me.” No other memorial or monument has ever been seen and observed by so many millions of the most enlightened and righteous as this which was composed of a bit of bread and a cup of the fruit of the vine. It has aided in lifting countless millions to a higher plane of goodness and happiness. It stands between the two greatest events of time, pointing back to the cross where sins were atoned for, and forward to his coming in the clouds to redeem his loved ones, and give them “a crown of life.”

He led them way down into the garden of Gethsem- ane. He left the little company of chosen ones, asked them to pray; went on a little distance, fell on the ground and was very sorrowful, saying, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful even unto death.” He saw before him, not only the torture of the cross, but the shame of his ill treatment. A sensitive person suffers more intensely from shame than from bodily pain. Who can doubt that Jesus’ greatest suffering was the shame? So intense was his mental agony that his “sweat became as great drops of blood.” Three times he cried out in the anguish of his soul, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass away from me: never theless, not my will but thine be done.” He knew that his mission was to die for the lost, yet when the ordeal of shame and suffering drew near, his soul was greatly troubled, and he prayed for deliverance if there was any other way to save man. His bitter cry was as much as to say, “Father, if thy wisdom, power and love can devise any other way to save man, then, Father, save me from this awful shame and death. But, Father, if there is no other way to save man from sin, then let me drink this cup.” It was not while before Pilate, nor even on the cross, where his greatest trial of suffering came. It was down in the garden. Never before in all his life had he shown any fear, or any hesitation. Nor after he came from the garden did he show any hesitation. Always except in the garden he was calm, self-possessed, and without fear. May we say that here in the garden was witnessed the greatest battle of all time?

Although he can ask the Father to send more than twelve legions of angels to rescue him, yet he calmly submits to arrest. His disciples flee in the darkness. The officers bind him as though he were a dangerous criminal, and take him before the highest court of the Jews. False witness is sought, but nothing alleging any wrong m their contradictory statements. He is buffeted, spat upon and taunted. He bears it all in calm silence. Morning comes and they take him to Pilate, the Roman governor, who alone has the legal authority to impose, the sentence the Jew’s seek—death on the Roman cross. Pilate hears their wreak, conflicting testimony, and gives his veraic.t, “I find no fault in him.” And with this verdict even Jesus’ enemies have agreed till this day. This verdict enrages the Jews, and they become a frenzied mob. Pilace well knowrs the danger of a general uprising of sedition, and it is Iris desire to pacify and quiet the leaders if possible. They demand the death sentence and wull accept nothing less. Skillful diplomat that he is, Pilate decides on a scheme that he thinks will surely pacify in a measure the mob, and also release this “innocent man.” It is customary, as a measure of pacifying the Jewrs, to release at each feast one pris-oner of their own choosing. He thinks in order to make it sure that Jesus can be set free that he will make the choice, not from prisoners in general, but a choice between two only, Jesus and Barrabas, who is guilty of robbery, sedition and murder. “I am, said Tilate, to release unto you at this feast a prisoner ^ horn you may choose. But I now give you your choice between two whom I select. Here is Jesus in whom I find no fault. Here is Barrabas who is guilty of sedition, robbery and murder. "Which shall I release?” Surely, thought Pilate, they will not want this noted criminal turned loose and will choose “this innocent man.” Pilate wvrs unable to see that here hangs the crisis of a world and its salvation. The current of human events have converged ever since man was lost. The sinless Jesus on the Roman cross is the only way of redemption. The Scriptures must be fulfilled. The atonement must be made.

Listen to the deafening clamor of the frenzied mob as they cry out in unison, “Release to us Barrabas. Let him raise sedition, rob and murder. Let Jesus’ blood be upon our heads.” Brother, sister, the wicked Barrabas typifies you and me. The sinless Jesus went to the cross that we sinners might be freed from bondage to sin and death.

He is delivered to the Roman soldiers. They lead him out to Golgotha. There they nail him to the cross. Not for any sin of his own. But “he was despised, and rejected of man; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” “Surely he hath borne our grief and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” For long hours he endures the agony. No earthly friend is there to speak a word of comfort. But his Father is still present with him. At last his Father withdraws his presence and he is left alone. He now cries out in the bitterest grief, “My God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me?” Why did his Father in the last moment withdraw his presence, perhaps for the first time since before creation? It was decreed that he should “tread the winepress alone.” He alone and unsupported must bear the sins in his own body on the cross. He bowed his head, and cried, with a loud voice, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” The tragedy of earth and time is ended. Jesus is dead.

Joseph asked Pilate for the body, tenderly removed it from the cross, and laid it in his own new tomb. Do you know that the three days while his body was in the tomb were the darkest and most hopeless of all the days since man sinned? The Redeemer has come, but he now lies in the embrace of death. The only ray of hope during those three days was three words uttered by him who is now held by the tomb. Those three words were, “I will arise.” Can the dead make good his promise? Will the “gates of Hades prevail against his soul” and hold it in the prison house? It is true that David had foreseen, in the person of Jesus, his triumph over death, and speaking in the person of Jesus prophesied, “Thou wilt not leave my soul in hades.” “It was not possible that he should be holden of death.” On the morning of the third day he conquered death, came forth victorious from the tomb. He met with the apostles on different occasions for about forty days. He led them out on the mountain, gave them the worldwide commission. He lifted up his hands and blessed them. How their hearts overflow with joy! Their Master has come back from the dead and is again with us. What their thoughts and ideas in regard to their future with Jesus were we can never know. But it seems that they still held to the idea that now he would surely proclaim himself king, assemble an army and drive the hated Roman legions out of their country.

While they are looking into his face and listening to his words a strange thing happens. His feet gently began to leave the ground, and he, perhaps, slowly rises above their heads. In amazement they watch as his body rises still higher, and at last enters a cloud out of sight. With the speed of light, perhaps, he passes through space till he nears the place where God dwells. The angel porter, watching from the battlement of heaven, cries out, “Lift up your heads 0 ye gates; and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory.” The sinless Jesus swept through the gates that had opened wide and took his seat at the right hand of God, to reign till the last enemy, which is death, shall be destroyed.

What song think you that the angels then sang? May we think, perhaps, the mighty host of heavenly angels then sang in unison:

All hail the power of Jesus’ name!
Let angels prostrate fall,
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown him Lord of all.
Let every kindred, ev’ry tribe,
On this terrestial ball,
To him all majesty ascribe,
And crown him Lord of all.