JSL-11-Chapter Eleven:

Chapter Eleven:
The Confession of Faith

Hitherto we have traced the career of the sinner as through he was isolated and alone in the world. His experiences have had no bond of connection with his fellow-men. What he has felt and done has been wholly without reference to them. He heard, believed, suffered, repented, all for himself, and only for himself — all as he would have done if he had been the only man upon the earth. And even as it was, amid the surroundings of friends and companions, who might have been disposed to be sympathetic or otherwise, all this work may have been going on in secret. The seed sown in the soil of the heart was covered up, and there in the darkness, all unobserved by human eye, it has undergone wonderful transformations and developments, and now it ready to spring up into the light of day.

Walking as we have been doing along the path of First Principles, and examining them one by one, in regular succession, we have at length reached the point where a man can no longer live only for himself, where he is obliged to bring out and profess, or confess, that which is in his heart. It is true that not-withstanding this confession may embrace other than personal considerations, it does first of all inure to his own individual benefit. It brings to him a blessing — a blessing which, as with the other elements which we have been considering, seems to be naturally involved in it. This is a point which has not received perhaps as much attention as it merits. All these principles are greatly enhanced in interest, and their importance becomes far more manifest when we are brought to perceive and appreciate that they are grounded in the nature of things, and that each is perfectly fitted and adapted to accomplish its own special and necessary work. We have seen that this is true of all the elements which have preceded and led up to the confession, and now we come to ask, “Why should a man confess his faith in Christ?” Certainly it is not to let Christ know that he believes, for he searches the heart and understands the thought afar off. He already knows what is in man, and needs not that any should tell him. But in its very nature the confession of faith is more or less public; it is made “before men,” and, as the apostle declares, it is “to the glory of God, the Father.” Of course it can add nothing to his essential glory, but it extends the knowledge of it. The open, public and solemn avowal that Jesus who was crucified as owned, acknowledged and confessed as God’s own Son and Lord of all, is really the proclamation of the fact that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son” to save it. And this is his glory.

I think it should be more insisted upon and emphasized that the confession of Christ as Lord is to be made for the sake of others, as well as for the benefit of him who makes it. But we have so constantly presented and urged these latter benefits as the real and only motives to confession that we have will night lost sight of the fact that in truth it is the birthplace of the unselfish element in religion; and not simply of the unselfish, but of the philanthropic. The true confessor has been brought by his faith and repentance so near to God that he begins here to reflect his light and love upon the world. And it can not be doubted that every time the confession is made its tendency, to say the least, is to do good to somebody else, and generally it accomplishes this result. We should, therefore, more frequently and directly address this high principle of unselfish benevolence, calling it into exercise as the reason and motive, for making the confession. That it will react salutary upon the confessor himself is of course true, for “confession is made unto salvation”; and this consideration may properly be presented in connection. But the time has come in the sinner’s progress when, if he is to be saved, he must not only perceive the love of God in the gospel, but he must begin to feel and to manifest it in his own heart. And that love in its very essence is sacrificial; it is poured out for the good of others. Thus the confession is lifted from a mere selfish seeking of good to a Christ-like impartation of it. Thus, too, it ceases to be thought of as only a formal prescription in the “appointed order” of conversion — as a sort of necessary preliminary to the next succeeding step — and it becomes elevated in conception, ennobled, divinized. The form of words in which this confession may best be made was revealed from Heaven to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; and with amazing wisdom it concentrates in a single sentence the whole essence of the gospel. When this revelation had been given to the Apostle Peter, he uttered it to the Saviour in these memorable terms: “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” These are pregnant words. All the writings of evangelists and apostles are but the development and elaboration of their profound meaning. Nay, they reach back into preceding ages, and draw into themselves the significance of all revealed type and symbol and shadow, together with the essence of deepest prophetic fore-announcements made by men who spake as they were moved by the Holy Spirit. An intelligent confession made substantially in the above state form of words, and made honestly and from the heart, is equivalent to the solemn, formal and public declaration that the confessor not only recognizes Jesus in the offices and character mentioned, but that he thus personally and practically accepts him. It is the deliberate and voluntary committal of himself to Christ—for weal or woe, for cross or crown; and it is the making known of this fact to his fellow-men. The meaning of the words of the revealed confession is familiar to every one—so familiar that only the briefest exposition of it is here is necessary. All have been taught that the term “Christ” is an official designation, and signifies that God the Father has anointed the Son to fill the three offices whose functions are necessary to man’s salvation. Hence, in confessing him to be the “Christ,” the confessor accepts him in these three official relations. That is to say:

1. As Prophet, or Teacher sent from God. He is recognized as being fully competent and officially authorized to make known the ways of God in truth. The words that he speaks are words that were committed to him to speak—they are words of God. He says: “I speak to the world those things which I have heard of him” (John 8:26); “As my Father hath taught me, I speak these things” (verse 28); “I speak that which I have seen with my Father” (verse 38). “The Father which sent me, he gave me a commandment what I should say, and what I should speak” (chap. 12:49). “The words that I speak unto you I speak not of myself, but the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works” (chap. 14: 10). 2. As Priest or High Priest—in which office he discharges in very deed and reality the functions shadowed forth in the Mosaic priesthood. With all the deep meaning and object of a true sacrifice, he offered himself without spot or blemish to God. But though he was “slain for us,” God raised him up to live forevermore, to discharge in an unchangeable priesthood in heaven the office of mediation and intercession. Thus while as Prophet he represents God to man, as Priest he represents man to God. 3. As King—having all authority in Heaven and on earth, and with the divine right to rule and reign over all the sons of men; to rule not simply over them, but in them — their very thoughts and affections being rightfully subject to his will. And now, finally, he is worthy to fill these high offices, because he is the Son of “the living God.” His nature, therefore, is God’s nature. He is “the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person.” “In him dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.” The confessor, in acknowledging and accepting Jesus as the Son of God, will not comprehend (for who indeed can comprehend?} the mysteries of the divine nature and of its tri-personal manifestation; but he can know that in some high sense the Son and the Father are one, and that all the love and mercy and tenderness displayed in the life and death of the Son reveal to us at the same time the heart of the Father. And so, believing all this in his heart, he comes back as a wandering prodigal to confess it with his mouth, well knowing that in calling Jesus Christ, who is his brother, the Son of the living God, he is really saying and feeling that that God is his own Father. And now in his rags and poverty, in his sin and shame, deeply conscious of all that he has forfeited, and deeply sensible of his great unworthiness, he can only say, as he looks into the benignant face that comes to meet him, “Father! — Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in they sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.”

This, I think, is the point to which the confession of Christ “with the mouth” brings the sinner. He has given up his pride and folly; he has abandoned his evil ways; he has changed his mind and purpose, and has resolved to turn unto the Lord; and in the furtherance of that resolve he has ventured to draw near — but still in his guilt and sin — and there in the presence he confesses his sin, by confessing his faith in Him who alone can forgive it. And now the robe and the shoes, the ring and the fatted calf — is he willing to receive them? Is he willing to humble himself yet further, that he may receive them as a gracious and unmerited gift? Is he willing, in short, to receive them in the Father’s own way? We shall see.