135. Jesus Christ--Healing in Galilee

Jesus Christ--Healing in Galilee

Luk 4:38-44. And he arose out of the synagogue, and entered into Simon’s house and Simon’s wife’s mother was taken with a great fever; and they besought him for her. And he stood over her and rebuked the fever, and it left her. And immediately she arose, and ministered unto them. Now when the sun was setting, all they that had any sick with divers diseases brought them unto him; and he laid his hands on every one of them, and healed them. And devils also came out of many, crying out, and saying, Thou art Christ the Son of God. And he, rebuking them, suffered them not to speak: for they knew that he was Christ. And when it was day he departed, and went into a desert place; and the people sought him, and came unto him, find stayed him, that he should not depart from there. And he said, unto them, I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also; for therefore am I sent. And he preached in the synagogues of Galilee. The religion of the Gospel is adapted to every possible condition of life, for it is adapted to the nature of man, who, with the variation of a few circumstances, is the same universally, and in every age. There is the difference of color and speech, the difference of climate and soil, the difference of high and low, of rich and poor; but still it is man, with all his excellencies, and imperfections, with all his capability of degradation and of improvement, with all his propensities to evil and to good. Christianity takes him up as he is, and undertakes to make him what he ought to be. “Can the Ethiopian change his color, or the leopard his spots?” No, replies nature, I gave that color, I painted those spots; but I cannot undo my own work. He that is black must, for me, continue black still, that which is spotted must be spotted still. But the grace of the Gospel unfolds a in mystery which it is beyond the reach of nature to solve. It transforms that which was as scarlet into the whiteness of snow, what was red like crimson into the color of wool. “Can these dry bones live?” Yes, at the word, and by the spirit of the Lord.

Miracles like these the Spirit of Christ is exhibiting every day. Do we not see: O that the spectacle were more common! Do we not see loftiness of station united to lowliness of mind; a hard lot to a contented spirit; the fulness of this world to the exceeding riches of the grace of God? When the Son of God came for the salvation of a lost world, “verily he took not on him the nature of angels.” But more wonderful still! he united the divine nature to the human, and thereby became at once an object of supreme adoration, and a familiar instructor. What he said and did as the Lord, “wise in heart and mighty in strength,” we must ever contemplate at an awful distance, admiring, venerating what we cannot find out unto perfection, and which we are still more incapable of imitating. But in what he said and did as a man, we behold a pattern most amiably simple, most powerfully impressive, most consummately perfect. In vain do we look anywhere else for that steadiness and uniformity of character which alone can merit the distinction of being proposed as an example. Whom else can we with safety follow in everything? In the most perfect of mere men, while there is much to respect and to commend, there is ever a something to blame and to regret; some fault of temper, some inconsiderateness of expression, some inconsistency of conduct. But in our divine Master all is estimable, uniform, and consistent. He presents one and the same character in solitude and in society, in the synagogue and in domestic retirement, at a marriage feast and before the tribunal; displaying a native dignity undebased by an infusion of insolence, condescension pure from servility, fortitude without ferociousness, sensibility without affectation, the sublimity of devotion with the perfect ease of friendship. In the last Lecture we attended this friend of mankind to the celebration of a marriage solemnity, and beheld him partaking of the pure delights of friendly and domestic intercourse, mingling with his kindred, and with the disciples whom he had chosen; and while he miraculously ministered to their wants; as the great Ruler and Lord of nature, we observe him, as bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh, sympathizing in their joys, adopting their solicitudes, their wants, and expectations, and joining in their conversation. Thus he tacitly and obliquely reproves that haughty reserve, that unbending; stateliness, that ungracious distance from men which frequently attempts to pass for superior wisdom, sanctity, and importance. We pretend not to arrange the several events of our Lord’s history in the exact order of time. The evangelists display them in an energetic simplicity far beyond the reach of art. There is in the word of God, if it be lawful to say so, a majestic irregularity that transcends the control of rule; just as the surface of our globe, with its mountains and valleys, its precipices and plains, its rivers and oceans, defies the application of the straight’ line and of the compasses; and as the face of the starry heavens present to the eye a magnificent assemblage of worlds scattered about by a hand that rejects all measurement by any standard but its own. Science has indeed contrived artificial combinations and arrangements both pf the heavenly bodies, and of Scripture truths, but their native glory and magnitude are not reducible to systems of human invention. It may be pleasant, and far from unprofitable, to ascertain dates, to unravel the chain; but it is surely of secondary moment. The actions and events themselves; and the evidence that they existed, are the great concern of the Christian world; but above all, the practical influence of those great truths on the hearts, the consciences, and the lives of men.

Precluded from opportunities of being eminently useful at Nazareth, through the envy and unbelief of his townsmen, Jesus withdraws from that city, not in anger but in sorrow, though a most cruel, ungrateful, and atrocious attempt upon his life had been made by its unworthy inhabitants; and he proceeds to prosecute his labors of love at Capernaum, a city situated on the sea of Galilee. From this place, it would appear, he was called to the adjacent town of Cana, to the celebration of the marriage; and that solemnity being ended, he returns to Capernaum accompanied by the disciples whom he had already chosen. Here we find this Teacher sent from God still indefatigably pursuing the great object of his mission, and still putting respect on the word and ordinances of God. Behold him devoting the day of sacred rest to useful purposes; employing the leisure and retirement from temporal concerns which it afforded, in executing the benevolent office of instructing the ignorant and guilty, in the way of life and salvation. We know from the general strain of his public ministrations, and particularly from the portion of Scripture, which he rehearsed and applied in the synagogue at Nazareth, that the things written concerning himself constituted the great burden of his preaching; Scripture the source, Christ Jesus the subject, the sabbath the season, the synagogue the scene. “Never man spake like this man.” But the services of an earthly sanctuary must close. There is a season of retirement and repose as there is of labor and exertion. The duties of private friendship, of domestic devotion, the rights of hospitality, the care of the body, put in their several claims, which must be answered. Christ accordingly “arose out of the synagogue, and entered into Simon’s house.” The accommodations of a poor fisherman’s hovel, on the shore of the lake of Gennesaret, could not be very elegant. The fare provided by a hard-working plebeian, doomed frequently to toil all night long, without taking anything, could not be very luxurious or delicate. But when a man gives you the shelter of his roof, however mean, and a place at his board, however homely, he does all that a prince can do; and the difference is a paltry circumstance or two, beneath the consideration of a rational being. But the house of Peter was, at this time, not only the abode of penury, but likewise the house of mourning, for “Simon’s wife’s mother was taken with a great fever.” The sabbath had not been to her a day of rest, but of agitation and pain; and the distress of a sick-bed might probably be aggravated by reflecting on absence from the house of prayer, and from the comforts of the public worship of God. The value and importance of objects vary strangely, in our estimation, as they are viewed through the medium of health, or of sickness, of pain, or ease. The illusion of the world disappears, when the fever in the blood forms in the distempered imagination, whirling orbs of perturbation, and perplexity, and despair; or when, in cold blood, conscience darts an anxious look into the world of spirits. Very different is the aspect of the sabbath in the eye; and the hour, of thoughtless dissipation, and when the son of dissipation is stretched on a bed of languishing. Then he “snuffed at it, and said, Behold, what a weariness is it? When will the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn, and the sabbath, that we may set forth wheat?” But how very different are the reflections of “the days of darkness,” of the “months of vanity,” of the “wearisome nights,” appointed, when the sleepless patient is constrained to cry out, “When shall I arise and the night be gone.” “What fruit had I then in those things, whereof I am now ashamed, for the end of those things is death.” The visit of Jesus to Peter’s family had more than one object in view. The friend of man retired to converse with men, the master to instruct his disciples, the poor to feed with the poor, the weary to repose with the weary. The Son of God entered into the house to manifest his glory, to display his power, to exercise his benevolence in the miraculous relief of distress. Thus amply does he repay every token of affection bestowed on himself, or on one of the least of his brethren. Distress awakens sympathy. The children of: the family cannot think of sitting down to eat bread, while the mother of it lay in extremity. Filial tenderness had undoubtedly exerted itself to the uttermost. The poor scrip of the Galilean had, perhaps, been drained in purchasing medicine and cordial for his afflicted mother-in-law: though this be none of the least of the evils which attend poverty, to behold the person whom we love perish for want of advice and medicine, for want of a cordial beyond the reach of our means. As a last resource they lay her case before Jesus: “and they besought him for her.” Did he need to be importuned? Was he difficult of access? Did his goodness flow reluctantly? No, but the intercourse between heaven and earth, between the Creator and the creature is the confidence, the prayer of distress meeting the benignity, the unremitting attention of the Father of mercies, who will be sought unto, that he may show himself gracious.

“And he stood over her, and rebuked the fever, and it left her.” The miracle of turning water into wine was effected by a simple act of the will, without either gesture or speech, and the evidence of it rested, in part, on the testimony of the servants who had filled the pots with water. Here we have both gesture and speech, and the immediate and personal conviction of all who were in the house. In nothing is the sovereignty of Deity more conspicuously displayed than in the manner of his acting. It is so unlike human conjecture, that the pride of man is apt to be offended that Providence did not observe the mode which his sagacity had prescribed. Naaman the Syrian had settled, in his own mind, the whole process of the cure of his own leprosy. “Behold, I thought, He will surely come out to me, and stand, and call on the name of the Lord his God, and strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper.” Not one iota of his conjecture was realized. The prophet did not come out, nor assume the supposed attitude, nor pronounce the supposed invocation, but “sent a messenger unto him, saying, Go and wash in Jordan seven times:” and pride is hurrying him away in a rage, to think that the rivers of Damascus should be postponed to the waters of Israel. Thus while prophecy has been successively fulfilling, the event so ill accorded with prevailing opinion and expectation, that while the prediction was admitted, the accomplishment, however coincident and exact, has been rejected. This divine sovereignty our blessed Lord exercises in performing all his mighty works. He wills water into wine. Now he rebukes the disease, and now speaks to the patient. He heals the feverous son of ‘the nobleman, at the distance of Cana from Capernaum, and the feverous mother of Simon’s wife standing by her bed-side. He anoints the blind man’s eyes with clay, and sends him to wash in the pool of Siloam; he cries with s loud voice over the grave of his departed friend, “Lazarus, come forth.” All demonstrates the underived and independent, as well as the almighty power of God, whose will is the sole and the supreme law, as to the time, the manner, and the matter of the work.

There is a wonderful vivacity in the unaffected conciseness and simplicity of the narration, He stood, he spake, he prevailed. “He rebuked the fever.” Disease is here personified, as susceptible of reprehension, and of voluntary subjection to authority, “and it left her,” as one who has encroached and intruded, and who feels and acknowledges the power of a superior repelling and casting him out. The transitions of nature are gradual, slow, imperceptible in their progress. When the ocean is roused into fury by the raging wind, it continues in a state of agitation long after the tempest has ceased to roar; but when Christ speaks the word, the effect is instantaneous and complete. “He arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace; be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.” When the fever has spent its force, and the crisis of convalescence has taken place, it leaves the patient feeble and languid, and it frequently requires a considerable length of time to restore both the body and the mind to the full exercise of their several functions; but when Jesus rebukes the fever, it not only in a moment departs, but the sufferer is at the same moment made perfectly whole: “And immediately she arose, and ministered unto them.” As in creation so in Providence, he speaks and it is done, he gives commandment and it stands fast. “He is the Rock; his work is perfect.” The circumstance of her ministering to her physician and the family, is striking and instructive. It teaches us the proper use of prolonged life, of restored faculties. They are to be devoted to the honor of God, and to the service of our fellow-creatures. They were deeply affected by her danger, they looked in anxious expectation to the return of her health, and they besought the Lord for it; she employs that precious gift in contributing her best endeavors to promote their ease and comfort. What debt is so sacred as that of gratitude? and what benefactor has laid us under so many and such unspeakable obligations as He who gave us life, and who sustains it, as He who died to redeem us? We have here a beautiful and interesting view of human life. Every relation has its corresponding sphere of duty. The happiness of domestic society consists not in the interchange of great benefits, on signal occasions, but in the hourly reciprocation of the little offices of love, in kind looks, in kind affections, in mutual forbearance and forgiveness, in the balm of sympathy, whether we sorrow or rejoice; in a word, according to the apostolic injunction, in being of the same mind one towards another. The religion of the Gospel wears an aspect peculiarly favorable to families. The infancy and childhood of Jesus Christ were passed in the bosom of his family. His first public miracle was performed in putting honor upon a family party, at Cana of Galilee. He made one in the family of Simon, at Capernaum. The house of Lazarus and his sisters at Bethany, he made his home, and there he cultivated all the endearing charities of exalted friendship. To find a home for his mother was his last earthly care; and, as the head of his own family, he presided at the Paschal solemnity, and instituted the memorial of his dying love. Thus are domestic relations strengthened, sweetened, sanctified, ennobled. A Christian kingdom or state never existed. But a family of Christians, all of one heart and of one soul, we trust, is not a rarity. And to christianize families is the direct road to the christianizing of nations. In the contracted sphere of a family, however numerous, everyone knows everyone; everyone cares for everyone. The master’s influence is felt and acknowledged by all. A common interest, both temporal and eternal, unites the individuals to each other, and heaven descends to dwell with’ men upon earth. So propitious is Christianity to the dearest and best interests of civil society. The scene which we have been reviewing passed on the evening of the sabbath. Nor could the sanctity of the day be profaned by a work of mercy, or by the pious and friendly intercourse of kindred spirits, whose religion was seated in the heart, not chilled into lifeless forms. But the superstitious observance of the sabbath operated powerfully, on the multitude. Though prompted by natural affection to apply for relief to their afflicted friends, they defer it till the going down of the sun, that is till the sabbath was over; for they had yet to learn “what this meaneth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice;” and “the Son of man is Lord even of the sabbath-day;” and “the sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath.” “Now when the sun was setting, all they that had any sick with divers diseases brought them unto him.” A sense of the weakness of those good people is lost in respect for their humanity. They are not chidden away from Peter’s door as unseasonable intruders; they are not referred to another day. It is the cry of misery entering into the ear of mercy, and it cries not in vain: “and he laid his hands on everyone of them, and healed them.” Here the mode of cure is the imposition of hands. Even so, blessed Jesus, for so it seemed good in thy sight. Let me be the subject of thy miraculous grace, and convey thou the healing power through whatsoever channel thou wilt. The service of the synagogue, in the morning of the sabbath, had been disturbed by a wretched demoniac, who “cried out with a loud voice, saying, let us alone: what have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth? art thou come to destroy us? I know thee who thou art: the holy one of God.” Jesus by a word, dispossessed the impure spirit, and restored the unhappy man to himself, in the presence of the whole assembly, who were justly filled with astonishment at such a display of power and goodness. It is affecting to think that this dreadful species of malady was far from being uncommon at that period; for we, find the fame of the morning’s miracle spread abroad, and it attracts to the place where Jesus was, in the evening, many persons in the same deplorable condition. One of the depths of Satan, in these cases, was to pay affected homage to Jesus of Nazareth, in the view of infusing a suspicion that there might be a secret combination and collusion between him and them, and of thereby diminishing his dignity and authority in the eyes of the people. To be praised by the wicked, is offensive and dishonorable to the good: and the adversary is never more dangerous than when he “is transformed into an angel of light.” But when the prince of this world came, he found nothing in Christ; no weak part to attack, no foundation whereon to erect his engines; but wisdom ever prepared to meet cunning, purity to resist every evil suggestion, and authority to silence the tempter whenever his encroachment became too daring. He disdained the testimony of a demon in his favor, and rejected the insidious praise of an enemy. “And he rebuking them, suffered them not to speak: for they knew that he was Christ:” that is, he permitted them not to declare, though they spake the truth, that they knew him to be the Christ.

Having thus fulfilled the public duties of the sanctuary, and the more private offices of friendship; having employed the greater part of the night in receiving and relieving the numerous objects who came, or who were brought to him, he withdrew, toward the dawning of the day, into a still closer retirement; and, for a season, shut the world entirely out. “And when it was day he departed, and went into a desert place.” Sacred were those hours of solitude to heavenly meditation, to devotional intercourse with Him that sent Him, whose glory he ever sought, and whose will it was his delight to execute. “Ye shall leave me alone;” says he to his disciples, “and yet,” adds he, “I am not alone, because the Father is with me.” When some great arrangement is to be made toward the establishment and extension of his kingdom, preparation for it passes in solemn abstraction from all sublunary things. Thus his own public ministry was preceded by a “forty days retreat into the wilderness.” “And it came to pass in those days,” when he was about to consecrate the twelve to the office of apostleship, “that he went up into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God;" thus also was the glorious scene of his transfiguration introduced; and thus he exemplified the practice which he so powerfully recommends to his disciples: “But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret, and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly.” The admiring and delighted multitude trace him into his place of retirement, and, sensible of the value of such a visit, they entreat him to prolong it. Various motives might suggest this request. In some, it might be the attraction of novelty, in others the love of the truth: here the sense of gratitude for benefits received, there the principle of curiosity gaping after a farther display of wonders. In one it might be the full conviction of an honest and enlightened mind, and in another a malignant disposition to discover a blemish. We know from the sequel that the success of our Lord’s miracles and preaching at Capernaum, was woefully similar to what it had been at Nazareth, for this is the dismal account which he himself gives of it, “And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought down to hell: for if the mighty works which have been done in thee had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I say unto you, that it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment than for thee.” Whatever were their motives for wishing his longer continuance among them, they are for the present resisted, and a reason is assigned. “I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also, for therefore am I sent.” Every word here is significant and powerful. “I must preach.” What imposed the necessity? The commission which he had undertaken to execute; his own sovereign will and pleasure; his own unerring understanding; his own unbounded benevolence; the extensive demands of perishing humanity. “I must preach the kingdom of God:” its descent to earth; its adaptation to the nature and condition of ignorant and guilty men; its divine object, to raise fallen man from earth, from hell, to heaven; its present operation and effect, “righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost;” its stability, “a kingdom that cannot be moved;” the sovereign grace which confers it, “fear not little flock: for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Such was the glorious subject of Christ’s preaching: a subject, compared to which the pursuits of avarice, of ambition, and the pride of kings are less than nothing and vanity: a subject that interests not Nazareth, and Capernaum, and the cities of Galilee only, where it was first proclaimed, but the men, the cities, the nations of all ages and generations. On such a narrow and seemingly slender foundation, what a fabric has arisen? “This is the Lord’s doing, it is marvellous in our eyes.” Let the great object of Christ’s mission direct and control our pursuit of every object. He was sent to bring men under the dominion of the kingdom of God; and he has taught us when we pray to say: “Thy kingdom come.” If we enter into the spirit of that petition, it will be our concern that the empire of sin and Satan in our own hearts be completely subverted; “that peace on earth, and good-will among men be promoted; that the kingdoms of this world, become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ, and that he may reign forever and ever.”--Let us review this portion of our blessed Lord’s history, and thus reflect:

1. The duties of religion, then, and those of ordinary life are intimately united and interwoven; they are perfectly consistent, and yield mutual support. The service of the sanctuary must not be unnecessarily protracted, to the wearying of the flesh, and to become an encroachment on the just, prudent, or necessary concerns of the family, and no domestic regards must preclude works of charity and mercy, even to strangers. On the other hand, no attention to civil and domestic affairs, except in cases of urgent necessity, and no works of mercy must plead a dispensation for the non-observance of the ordinance of God. Under the governance of a well regulated spirit, daily lawful employments become not only a reasonable but a religious service, and the functions necessary to the support of mere animal life, may be performed to the glory of God. And neither the public offices of the temple, nor family order and devotion must be alleged as an exemption from the obligations of private and personal religion. Indeed all must begin here. For families are composed of individuals, and the churches of Christ of families. To the perfect health of the natural body, the soundness of every member is essential: a perfection, however, rarely to be found, and seldom of long continuance. But the present feebleness, imperfection, and disorder of the particular members of that body whereof Christ is the head, are relieved by the prospect of “the perfecting of the saints, of the edifying of the body of Christ,” when “we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, note a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ.”

2. Can the father of lies speak truth?--Yes, when it promises to answer his purpose; and truth itself partakes of the nature of a lie, when it is employed for the purpose of deception. Do devils believe? Yes, to their sorrow; “they believe and tremble.” Does Satan give a just testimony to the Son of God? Yes, in hope of bringing it into discredit. Let no one, then, value himself on the mere truth and soundness of his principles, on the exact orthodoxy of his faith. A principle, however excellent, that remains inactive, is of no value, like a mathematical proposition, demonstrably certain, but applied to no use; or a wholesome stream frozen up and stagnating at the very source. “Not everyone that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.” “This is the victory that overcometh the world even our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God.”

3. Who has not known disease, and danger, and manifold affliction? And who has not experienced frequent and merciful deliverance? The distress came from an unseen hand, and so did the relief. The agent, the instrument was human, was sensible. It was the skill of the physician, it was the power of medicine, it was the sympathy of friendship. But who taught the physician to comprehend my malady, and to reach it? Who gave virtue to the prescribed medicine? Who excited compassion in the bosom of my friend? He who rebuked the fever, and it fled; he who laid his hands on the sick, and they were made whole; he who took the dead daughter of the ruler of the synagogue by the hand, and said, “Damsel, arise;” and “straightway she arose and walked.” Whether, therefore, health remain unimpaired, or be restored, by natural or extraordinary means; whether deliverance come immediately from God, or be wrought through the instrumentality of second causes, the hand of Deity is equally to be acknowledged; and prolonged life and renewed strength are to be devoted to Him who “giveth to all life and breath, and all things; for in Him we live, and move, and have our being.”