Evening, July 6, adapted from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“How many are my iniquities and sins?  — Job 13:23

Have you ever really weighed and considered how great the sin of God’s people is? Think how terribly wicked is your own wrongdoing, and you will find that not only does a sin here and there tower up like one of the Alps, but that your iniquities are heaped upon each other, as in the old Greek myth of the giants who heaped Pelion upon Ossa, mountain upon mountain. What a mountain of sin there is in the life of one of the most sanctified of God’s children! Attempt to multiply this, the sin of one only, by the great assembly of the redeemed, “a number which no man can number,” and you will have some conception of the great mass of the guilt of the people for whom Jesus shed his blood. But we arrive at a more adequate idea of the magnitude of sin by the greatness of the remedy provided. It is the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s only and well-beloved Son. God’s Son! Angels cast their crowns before him! All the choral symphonies of heaven surround his glorious throne. “God over all, blessed forever. Amen.” And yet he takes upon himself the form of a servant, and is whipped and pierced, bruised and torn, and at last slain; since nothing but the blood of the incarnate Son of God could make atonement for our offences. No human mind can adequately estimate the infinite value of the divine sacrifice, for great as is the sin of God’s people, the atonement which takes it away is immeasurably greater. Therefore, the believer, even when sin rolls like a black flood, and the remembrance of the past is bitter, can yet stand before the blazing throne of the great and holy God, and cry, “Who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is He who died, yes, rather who was raised.” While the recollection of his sin fills him with shame and sorrow, he at the same time makes it a contrast to show the brightness of mercy–guilt is the dark night in which the fair star of divine love shines with serene splendor.

My Notes:  When I consider the great forgiveness granted me, the commandment to forgive others as I am forgiven comes to mind.  When I think of some individual that has done great wrong to me, I can see that sin against me as a pile of significant weight.  But when I consider all the wrongs I’ve done against all others (and God) laid on my account through my life, the size and weight dwarfs any one person’s offense against me. It becomes a small thing to forgive one person, when all the wrong I have done all my life is placed upon Christ, and forgiven.