THE LORD OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS.
By Frances E. Bolton
It seems to be the natural tendency of the human heart to seek justification through meritorious acts. When we have sinned, we are filled with a sense of our unworthiness and shame, but, instead of immediately seeking the Fountain that has been opened for all uncleanliness, we try to better ourselves by doing some good thing, that will give us favor with God. We seem to think that we must merit something before we dare approach into the presence of God. This principle in the natural heart, of seeking merit in self, has shown its development in all pagan religions, and has made its manifestation a marked characteristic of the Papal Church. Men have thrown themselves as bleeding sacrifices to Juggernaut; women have cast their babes into the Ganges; pilgrimages have been made; fastings, scourgings, and torturous penances have been self-imposed, to merit the favor of Heaven. It was while Luther was laboriously toiling up Pilate's stairs on his knees, to gain merit, that the glorious truth from heaven shone into and illuminated his soul,—"The just shall live by faith." We have heard of the monks, who wore their coarse hair garments for years, without change, and who would not allow water to touch them, lest their spiritual whiteness might suffer loss, through a loss of physical impurity. The "odor of sanctity" that wafted from these saints could not have been grateful to earth or Heaven. But, however apparent the worthlessness of the "meritorious acts" of the cases cited, there is a kind of self-justification that takes a more subtle shade, and its odor, tho less obtrusive and disgusting to earth, is most obnoxious to Heaven. Self-justification, self-righteousness, is a garment of "filthy rags;" mark the term, filthy rags. No monk, however long he wore his robe of odorous sanctity, could be clothed in more obnoxious filth than is described in this term of the Bible. Says the prophet, "All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags." This shows why the Pharisee's prayer was so abominable to Heaven; he was presenting to God, not the precious fragrance of the incense of Christ's merit, but the unsavory odor of his own. But why is it that our righteousness is so unacceptable to Heaven?—In the first place, we have sinned; we have transgressed the law, done violence to our natures. We have unfitted ourselves for fulfilling the high and holy requirements of God. We can not be the thing that is pleasing in His sight. We have become altogether unprofitable. The feet that should have hastened at His behest, are crippled; the voice that should have offered up sweet praise, is cracked and discordant; the heart that should have delighted in His will, is full of rebellion and enmity. What can we offer to God, whose nature and name are Love, since, through sin, the nature of enmity to Him is implanted within us? He seeks those to worship Him who worship in spirit and in truth. In the second place, for our inability, His love has provided an Infinite Sacrifice. On the cross of Calvary the great meritorious act was done. The spotless Lamb of God, who became sin for us, who bore the curse of the law, who endured the wrath of love against rebellion, has suffered the utmost pang, and tasted the dregs of the wo of a lost world. For ruined man He gave His divine life, and poured out, in a rich, infinite tide, the rivers of redeeming love. That man, lost and leprous, for whom so great a salvation has been purchased, at such infinite cost, should offer to God his own merit, is to count the blood of the covenant an unholy thing; to make it of less worth than man's own unrighteous deeds. It is more than this, it is to say to the Creator that the wisdom of God is less than His creatures; that the plan of the Infinite is beneath that of the finite. It is to despise the divine love that led the Father and the Son to suffer. It is to do despite to the Spirit of grace. What motive lies at the foundation of self-justification? Is it not selfishness? It honors God when we confess our sins, because it owns that He is just in condemning sin. It exalts His law as holy and good. It acknowledges before the universe the conviction that God's government is right, and Satan's is wrong. It is a vindication of honor. Faith in Christ honors God. It says: Your love can save, redeem, restore the sinner, and the heart that believes in the merit of Christ sings:—
"Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling." But self-justification honors, not God, but self. It says: I am able to save myself. It puts itself in the place of God, and is anti-Christ. It says, I can atone for my own transgression, and this dishonors the law, and brings its precepts down to the level of the fallen creature's ability. It is the constant tendency of the heart, nevertheless, to seek justification by some merit of its own. How often, when we have failed, we wait and seek opportunity to win our Father's favor ere we approach His throne! I remember a child who had disobeyed her mother, and was to receive punishment, but before the time arrived for the punishment, she sought in every way possible to merit her mother's favor, and escape the rod. One word of genuine sorrow, one acknowledgment of her wrong, would have been more than all her meritorious acts. The mother's heart would have given expression to her love, not in punishment but in favor, and her erring child would have been restored to her confidence. It is so with our Father. When we err, if we repent, if we come with broken and contrite hearts (and all this is the gift of His love), if we present Christ's merit, He expresses His love to us in blessing and the manifestation of favor. He comes to meet us while we are a great way off, and puts the best robe upon us,—even His own spotless righteousness.
"Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe." When the redeemed come into the city of God, it will be to ascribe their salvation to God and to the Lamb. "By grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast." We are saved through faith in Christ, but says James, "Faith without works is dead." It is an evidence of faith, genuine faith, an evidence that Christ is in you the hope of glory, when works appear in your life. From Christ is all good fruit produced; for these works are only the outflow of that vitality that Christ imparts. The sun in heaven shines, and his light fills our atmosphere. The light is in him, and it is an evidence that he has light, that he illuminates the world. The stars shine, and those that reflect the sun give evidence that they live in his light. The branch bears fruit, and gives evidence that it abides in the vine. But works, these works of faith, are not our life, but Christ's life in us. Says Paul: "I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God." There is no room anywhere in the Christian life for boasting, for presenting our own righteousness. I have heard of one brother who said: "It is not my sins that trouble me now, but it is what men call my virtues. It is my prayers, my sermons, my acts of charity, and my professed service to God. There is enough in them to sink me to perdition, and I should despair were it not for the merit of Christ." Is it not so with all of us? Do we not all feel to plead for every act of our life, "O Christ, cover that with Thy merit; let me hide myself in Thee"? O, the relief and the joy that come with the thought that "the Lord is our righteousness"! O, the gladness of the statement that was made to the Angel of the Lord concerning the man who was clothed with filthy garments: "Take away the filthy garments from him. And unto him He said, Behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with a change of raiment;" and they "clothed him with garments." We have been called unto the wedding supper of the Lamb, and the robes have been provided. Will any one appear there, as did the ungrateful guest, in his own garments, in his filthy rags? The prodigal who returned to the Father, received the best robe. Yes, the best that heaven can give is for the repentant one. No king of any world can furnish such a robe as heaven can,—rich in glory, "white, whiter than any fuller on earth can white it,"—the robe that will fit fallen man to appear at heaven's court without shame, even the robe of Christ's righteousness.
FRANCES E. BOLTON.