The Great Physician And His Patients

The Great Physician And His Patients

DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, MARCH 5, 1865, BY C. H. SPURGEON, AT THE
METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"They that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick."
Matthew 9:12.

THIS was Christ's apology for mingling with publicans and sinners when
the Pharisees murmured against Him. He triumphantly cleared Himself by
showing that according to the fitness of things He was perfectly in
order. He was acting according to His official Character. A physician
should be found where there is work for him to do and that it is where
healing is required. There was evidently none among the Pharisees–if
their own opinion of themselves were to hold good–for they were
perfectly whole. There was much to do, according to their own
admission, among the publicans and sinners, for they were sorely sick.
Therefore our Lord was in His place and fittingly executing His office
when He sought out those who needed Him.

I. We shall have no time for a preface this morning and therefore let
us enter at once into the text by observing that MERCY GRACIOUSLY
REGARDS SIN AS A DISEASE. Sin is more than a disease. If it were only a
sickness, men were to be pitied for suffering it. But the element of
the perverse will, of voluntary rebellion and designed offense enters
into sin, otherwise it were far less truly sin. And this makes it more
than a sickness and worse than a malady. Let us not think that the
picture of disease really does set forth all the heinous nature of
sin–it is only a generous way in which Mercy chooses to look at it and
to deal with it.

As Justice views it, all the plagues, venom, virus and disease in the
world would be sweet and harmless compared with one single evil thought
or imagination! But Mercy leniently and graciously chooses, in order
that it may have a sort of apology for its operations under the great
plan of salvation, to view sin as a disease. It is justified in such a
view, for almost everything that may be said of deadly maladies may be
said of sin. Let us come to particulars. Sin is an hereditary
disease–we are born with a tendency towards it–no, we are born in it.
The taint is in our blood–the very center of our being feels the
infection.

Born in sin and shaped in iniquity, in sin did our mothers conceive us
and our offspring, in like measure, received from us that original sin
which is part of our fallen nature. Every man born into the world bears
within him, in the bias and current of his mind, the seeds of sin. Nor
is this to be wondered at, for, "Who can bring a clean thing out of an
unclean? Not one." "How can he be clean that is born of a woman?" Sin,
like sickness, is very disabling. A sick man cannot carry burdens,
climb mountains, run in service, walk with perseverance or leap for
joy. The occupations and the pleasures of other men are things from
which he is shut out. Even so does sin prevent our serving God.

We cannot pray to Him–we cannot praise Him aright. In every duty we
are weak and for every good we are feeble. There is not a single moral
power of manhood which sin has not stripped of its strength and glory.
If we wished to run in the ways of God's commands, then sin has
crippled us. If we would grasp God's promises, evil has paralyzed us.
If we desired to see into the mysteries of Divine Grace, guilt has
blinded us. If we would hear the voice of God, transgression has struck
us with deafness. And if our voices would swell the song of cherubim
and seraphim, alas, the plague of our heart within has made us dumb!

Of all of us in our measure it may be said we are, through sin,
"unstable as water and shall not excel." Sin weakens man's nature for
all good. Sin also, like certain diseases, is a very loathsome thing.
Some diseases are so extremely disgusting that scarcely can their names
be mentioned. But, oh, they are sweetness itself when compared with
sin! The most putrid poisonous air that ever blew from a fever hospital
never had such foulness in it as dwells in sin. Pest-houses and
lazar-houses are clean and safe compared with the haunts of vice. In
God's esteem and in the esteem of all holy minds the most detestable,
obnoxious, dreadful thing in the whole world is moral evil.

If that could be gotten rid of, all other evil would cease to be. This
is the mother and nurse of all evil, the egg of all mischief, the
fountain of bitterness, the root of misery. Here you have the distilled
essence of Hell. The "quintessence," as the old Divines would say, of
everything that is unlovely, disreputable, dishonest, impure,
abominable–in a word– damnable! Like some diseases, sin is fearfully
polluting. As the leper cannot be tolerated abroad, as the
plague-stricken are separated from their fellows–even so, sin
separates us from communion with God and holy beings. It is not their
unwillingness to associate with us, as much as our horrible unfitness
to have fellowship with them. It is dreadful to bear about with us a
cancer which has reached the stage of sickening rottenness. And yet
this is not half so terribly disgusting as sin is to the heart of God.

God is very gracious but He cannot endure sin in His Presence and to
set forth His hatred of it in type and figure He forbade diseased
persons to enter His courts or even to mingle with the camp of His
people. For the unclean there was a plain and clear separation until he
had been purified. Sin necessarily shuts us out from God's Presence.
Into His holy fellowship we must not come–we dare not attempt to come.
The fire of His anger would consume us, as it did Nadab and Abihu, if
we, as sinners should venture near Him apart from Christ Jesus. We
cannot stand at the altar to officiate as priests before God, though
this were the proper lot of manhood, by reason of the leprosy that is
on our brow.

Our praising God, simple as that might seem, cannot be acceptable in
His sight because of the defilement of our un-circumcised lips.
Almighty Grace must take away our uncleanliness or we cannot worship.
Iniquity is a polluting thing. Everything we do and everything we think
of grows polluted through our corruption. The unclean person could not
touch a vessel, sit on a bed, or come near a garment without defiling
it. And our sin has much the same effect. Our prayers have stains in
them. Our faith is mixed with unbelief. Our repentance is not so tender
as it should be. Our communion is distant and interrupted. We cannot
pray without sinning and there is filth even in our tears. Well was it
for Israel that there was an Aaron to bear the sins of their holy
things and blessed is it for us that Jesus takes the sins even of our
best works and casts them into the depths of the sea.

Sin, too, may be likened to many sicknesses from its being contagious.
A man cannot be a sinner alone. "One sinner destroys much good." The
seeds of sin are winged like thistle seeds–you may shut up the leper
in a lazar-house, but there is no such way of shutting up sin–it will
get out and spread itself. A man, if he is evil, will make others evil.
His children will imitate him. His dependants, feeling his influence,
will walk in his footsteps. Even his neighbors cannot look upon his sin
without being in some measure infected by it, for, "the thought of evil
is sin." There is a fierce contig-uousness in every form of moral
evil–like fire among stubble it spreads most rapidly.

Sin moreover, like many diseases, is very painful. And yet, on the
other hand, at certain stages it brings on a dead-ness, a numbness of
soul-preventing pain. The most of men are unconscious of the misery of
the Fall. They think themselves rich and increased in goods, having
need of nothing, when they are naked and poor and miserable. Sin causes
a madness which makes sick souls dream that they are in sound health.
They talk as though Heaven were their heritage, when they are sitting
on the brink of Hell. But when sin is really discerned, then it becomes
painful. I would sooner suf-fer–I know not what may be the pangs of
some disease, but I feel sure I may say this–I would sooner suffer a
complication of all the ills that flesh is heir to than suffer the
plague of a guilty, awakened, enlightened, quickened conscience!

When conscience accuses a man there is no rest for him either day or
night. Its little finger is heavier than the loins of all other grief.
When sin becomes exceedingly sinful before the eyes, then there is a
gloom and a heaviness of spirit which crushes the soul into despair,
making life bitter, as Pharaoh did the lives of the children of Israel.
Speak of Egyptian darkness–it was bright as noonday compared with the
darkness of a mind borne down with its own guilt. Oh what wretchedness
was mine before I laid hold on Christ. There are some who feel not so
acutely the agony of conflict with sin, but it was my lot to feel a
horror of great darkness, verging upon despair, so that had I not soon
found a Savior my soul had chosen strangling rather than life.

Believe me, there is no pain so bitter as the pain of sin and no curse
so heavy as the curse which comes from the black lips of our civil
iniquities. And yet I would to God that some of you felt it now that
you might not feel it hereafter. I would that this whip would fall upon
your backs that you might be flogged out of your self-righteousness and
made to fly to Jesus Christ and find a shelter there. The disease of
sin is deep-seated and has its throne in the heart. It does not lie in
the hand or foot, it is not to be removed by amputation, much less by
outward applications. No knife can reach it, it is impossible to
cauterize it.

The skill of a physician can often extract the roots of disease, but no
skill can ever reach this. It has entered the marrow, the very core and
center of our being and only the Divine One is able to purge us from
it–

"No outward forms can make me clean The leprosy lies deep within."

It is in its own nature wholly incurable. "Can the Ethiopian change his
skin, or the leopard his spots?" If so, then can he that is accustomed
to do evil learn to do well? Can a brine fountain send forth sweet
waters? Shall the thorn suddenly yield olives? Can the waterfall which
has been forever dashing down the cliffs reverse its course and return
towards the riverhead?

Shall fire suddenly become gentle and lose its consuming power while
the fuel is round about it? Shall the lion of himself eat straw like
the ox? Shall the leopard bleat like a lamb? Such changes, being
changes of nature, are only to be worked by Divine strength. And so it
is not possible for the disease of sin ever to be cured by any human
remedies. Man cannot cure himself. He may reform. He may drive the
disease inward and prevent its coming out upon the skin. He may so
model and guide and restrain himself that the coarser forms of sin
which are condemned among men may not appear in him. But the virus, the
essential poison of sin, no man can ever extract from his own
heart–nor can another man do it for him.

Jehovah Rophi, the healing Lord, must manifest His Omnipotent power.
The utmost religionist, the most devout prayers, the greatest possible
circumspection will not avail to remove the taint of sin if they spring
from an unrenewed heart. The carnal mind is enmity against God and is
not reconciled to God, neither, indeed, can it be. And so, let us close
the story of this sickness of sin by observing that it is a mortal
disease. It kills not just now, but it will kill before long. Not
merely shall the body die as the result of sin, but the soul must be
killed forever with eternal wrath. O Sinner, you little know what your
sin will bring you to! But if you will read in God's Word, you shall
discover that it will bring you to the worm that never dies and to the
fire that never can be quenched.

Perhaps tomorrow you may know what a full-blown sin is. Perhaps
tomorrow, I said–that word may be prophetic to some of you–but if not
tomorrow, it is but a matter of time, a few months, more or less and
you will be in torment. Sin, when it is ripened, brings forth death and
damnation. Oh, you do not know what those words, "to be damned," mean!
You can play with them sometimes and lightly hurl them at your fellow
creatures–but could you only once hear the shriek of a damned soul!
Could you only once see a spirit cast out from the Presence of God into
eternal misery– surely it would compel you to cry–"What must I do to
be saved?"

Enough of this–it is clear that there is a very excellent parallel to
be drawn between sin and disease. Humbling as it is, the fact is,
nevertheless, most certain–we are all suffering under the disease of
sin.

II. But now, secondly, IT PLEASES DIVINE MERCY TO GIVE TO CHRIST THE
CHARACTER OF A PHYSICIAN. Having deigned to consider sin as a disease,
which is a great proof of mercy, it now graciously confers upon Christ
the character of a physician. Be it forever understood that Jesus
Christ never came into the world merely to explain what sin is. Moses
had for his mission the exposition of sin–Christ has for His mission
the eradication of it.

We know what sin is through the Law–that is as much as the Law can do
for us. Christ comes, not merely to tell us what it is, but to inform
us how it can be removed. Jesus did not come to apologize for
sin–Christ never died in order that sin might appear less sinful–that
God might be less severe towards sin, or hate it less. God forbid! We
never see sin to be so black as when we view its evil as revealed in
the sufferings of Jesus. Nor is God's wrath ever more intolerable than
when we behold it consuming His Only-Begotten Son.

"Behold and see if there is any sorrow like unto My sorrow, which is
done unto Me, wherewith the Lord has afflicted Me in the day of His
fierce anger." Christ did not come to lay a flattering unction to men's
souls, to prevent distress of conscience, to say to them, "Peace,
Peace!" where there is no peace. No, He came to cure sin, not to film
it over–not to make men forget the disease by drugging them with
presumptuous draughts of consolation–but by absolutely removing that
which is the cause of their dread and of their fear to make them whole.
Christ Jesus did not come in order that you might continue in sin and
escape the penalty of it! He did not come to prevent the disease being
mortal, but to take the disease itself away.

Many people think that when we preach salvation, we mean salvation from
going to Hell. We do not mean that! We mean a great deal more! We
preach salvation from sin. We say that Christ is able to save a man.
And we mean by that that

He is able to save him from sin and to make him holy–to make him a new
man. No person has any right to say, "I am saved," while he continues
in sin as he did before. How can you be saved from sin while you are
living in it? A man that is drowning cannot say he is saved from the
water while he is sinking in it! A man that is frostbitten cannot say,
with any truth, that he is saved from the cold while he is stiffened in
the wintry blast.

No, Christ did not come to save you in your sins, but to save you from
your sins. He did not come to make the disease so that it should not
kill you, but to let it remain in itself mortal and, nevertheless, to
remove it from you and you from it. Christ Jesus came, then, to heal us
from the plague of sin–to touch us with His hand and say, "I will, be
you clean." When a physician presents himself, one of the first
enquiries is, "Is he a regular practitioner? Has he a right to
practice? Has he a diploma?"

Very properly the law requires that a man shall not be allowed to hack
our bodies and poison us with drugs at his own pleasure without having
at least a show of knowing what he is doing. It has been tartly said
that, "a doctor is a man who pours drugs, of which he knows little,
into a body of which he knows still less." I fear that is often the
case. Still a diploma is the best safeguard mortals have devised.

Christ has the best authority for practicing as a physician. He has a
Divine diploma! Would you like to see His diploma? I will read you a
few words of it–it comes from the highest authority, not from the
College of Physicians, but from the God of Physicians. Here are the
words of it in the sixty-first chapter of Isaiah, "The Spirit of the
Lord is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to preach good
tidings unto the meek. He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted."

He has a diploma for binding up broken hearts. I should not like to
trust myself to a physician who was a mere self-dubbed doctor who could
not show any authorization! I must have him know as much as a man can
know, little as I believe that will probably be. He must have a
diploma. It must be signed and sealed, too, and be in a regular
manner–for few sensible men will risk their lives with ignorant
quacks. Now Jesus Christ has His diploma and there it is–God has sent
Him to bind up the brokenhearted.

The next thing you want in a physician is experience. You want to know
that he is thoroughly qualified. He must have walked the hospitals. And
certainly our Lord Jesus Christ has done so. What form of disease did
He not meet with? When He was here among men it pleased God to let the
devil loose in order that there might be more than usual venom in the
veins of poor diseased manhood. And Christ met the devil at His darkest
hour and fought with the great enemy when he had full liberty to do his
worst with Him.

Jesus did, indeed, enter into the woes of men–He walked the hospitals!
Why the whole world was an infirmary and Christ the one only Physician,
going from couch to couch healing the sons of men. Something more, be
it observed, may be said of Him–He is experimentally as well as by
education–qualified in the healing arts. I have heard of a celebrated
physician that was known to try the effect of his medicines upon
himself. This has been done in our Master's case.

There is not a single disease which He does not know
experimentally–for He Himself took our sicknesses and infirmities. He
was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin. He knows His
patient's case by having passed through the case Himself. There is no
brokenness of heart, there is no grief of soul which Jesus Christ has
not Himself participated in. And though you may say He knows not sin in
its infection, yet He knows sin in its imputation and is, by having
suffered all its penalties, perfectly well acquainted with it.

One likes a physician, too, who has a wide practice. One does not care
for a man's merely understanding his tools. We like to know whether he
has used them and whether he has been successful in his art. Blessed be
the name of the beloved Physician! He has the widest imaginable
practice. These 1800 years He has been healing sin-sick souls–what am
I saying?–these 6000 years He has been "mighty to save." Before He
bodily gave Himself to the Cross, the virtue of the medicine of His own
blood had begun to operate upon the sons of men.

O Souls! You may see in Heaven the multitudes whom He has healed!
There, before the Eternal Throne, you may view the myriads who have
been delivered from all sorts of diseases through the power and virtue
of His touch. You need not fear to trust yourselves in His hands, for
even the hem of His garment heals our diseases!

To sum up the virtues of this Physician in a very few words–His cures
are very speedy–there is life in a look at Him. His cures are
radical–He strikes at the very center of the disease and His cures are
very sure and certain. He never fails and the disease never returns.
There is no relapse where Christ heals–no fear that one of His
patients should be but patched up for a season. He makes a new man of
him–a new heart also does He give him and a right spirit does He put
within him!

He is a physician, one of a thousand, because He is well-skilled in all
diseases. Physicians generally have some specialty. They may know a
little about almost all our pains and ills, but there is usually one
disease which they have studied the most carefully–one part of the
human frame whose anatomy is as well-known to them as the rooms and
cupboards of their own house.

Jesus Christ has made the whole of human nature His specialty. He is as
much at home with one sinner as with another sinner and never yet did
He meet with an out-of-the-way case that was out of the way for Him. He
has had extraordinary complications of strange diseases to deal with
but He has known exactly, in one moment, with one glance of His eyes,
how to treat the patient. He is the only universal doctor "at home" in
every case.

The medicine He gives is a catholicon–it heals in every instance,
never failing. His medicine is Himself! If there is a smart caused by
it, it is borne upon His own back. "By His stripes we are healed." "His
flesh is meat, indeed. His blood is drink, indeed"–He Himself casts
out the disease from poor dying men. We do but trust Him and sin
dies–we love Him and Divine Grace lives! We wait for Him and Grace is
strengthened. We see Him, as we soon shall, and Grace is perfected
forever! O blessed Physician for this desperate disease!

III. I cannot, however, tarry longer on that point, but come to the
third, which is the main one that I am driving at, namely, THAT NEED IS
THAT ALONE WHICH MOVES OUR GRACIOUS PHYSICIAN TO COME TO OUR AID.

He says, "They that are whole need not a physician," and you will see
the natural conclusion from His line of reasoning is, "I do not go to
the whole, because they do not need Me. I go to the sick because they
do need Me. The reason why I go anywhere is because I am needed."

I believe, dear Friends, though doubtless there are some exceptions,
that if you were to take the medical profession through, you would
perceive larger-heartedness and more humanity there than almost
anywhere. And you would find that there is scarcely a physician,
certainly none known to me, who would, if he had two urgent cases to
consider, make any distinction between the two except that he would
give his first attention to the sufferer who needed him most.

Of course if the matters are both trivial, common sense allows a man to
select that which will best remunerate him for his skill. But in
imminently dangerous cases, necessity decides. The true physician is
born with a physician's heart and feels for the woes of his fellow men.
And, though a man has obtained a diploma, he is no physician and ought
not to practice if his soul is not in his work and his heart full of
benevolence to the afflicted. The true physician, having a sympathy and
an intense desire to be of service, if there are two persons requiring
him, would say, "This one is in the more imminent danger. I shall go to
him first."

Now what is most certainly only fair to acknowledge concerning human
physicians, we must admit with a far greater cogency concerning the
Great Physician of souls. If there were two sinners both perishing and
Christ were not able to save at the same moment more than one, He would
go to that one first which needed Him most. This is His rule. He acts
according to sovereignty, but that sovereignty is under the control of
His own infinite mercy. If He hears a cry from two hearts today, if He
should give any preference, the preference would be given to that which
was the cry of the most lost, the most abject, the most needy sinner.

Now think this over and you will see that it is true, and most
consolatory. What was it that made Christ a physician at all? Was is
not because men were sick with sin? Suppose they had been
perfect–would Christ have ever been a Savior if men had not been lost?
Brethren, it would have been a work of supererogation–it would have
been a folly, a monstrous folly, on His part–to undertake an office
which was not required of Him! It is sin which makes room for His work
as a Savior. I say it–you will understand me–He is only a Savior
because there are sinners and His Saviorship is based upon our
sinnership!

He takes that position because He is needed. Again, what was the main
thought which was upon Him when He was compounding His great medicine?
What was it that made Him shed great drops of blood? Was it human
guilt? Or do you think, perhaps, human merit? Why guilt, and guilt
alone! What made Him give His back to the scourgers and His cheeks to
the smiters? What made Him stretch His arms to the Cross and give His
feet to the nails?

What made Him bear the insufferable wrath of Almighty God? Was it man's
goodness? Why you cannot think of such a thing! It was human vileness,
villainy, degradation, iniquity which made such sufferings as these all
necessary! As I see, then, Christ in His great surgery, compounding the
Almighty medicine which is to expel the disease from the veins of
humanity, I see Him every moment thinking of sin! Sin! SIN! Man's sin
makes Him die. And now that He is in Heaven, Beloved, what is it that
Christ is thinking of there?

"He makes intercession"–what for? For the righteous? If they were
self-righteous, perfectly righteous, they would not need intercession
from Him. "He makes intercession for the transgressors." He is exalted
on high–what for? To reward the good? No, verily, but to give
repentance and remission of sins–evidently to those who have no
repentance and whose sins have need to be forgiven. Up in Heaven Christ
still has His eyes upon sinners–sinners are the jewels whom He seeks!

Where, again, was Jesus Christ when He was on earth? Did He not spend
the most of His time among sinners? Was He not always dealing out
healing to the sick, life to the dead, and so on? You might ask again,
on the other hand, to whom is the Gospel sent? What is it? "This is a
faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners." That is the Gospel–"He that believes
and is baptized shall be saved. He that believes not shall be damned."

So those who are bid to believe are evidently those who deserve to be
damned. Need, need, need alone quickens the Physician's footsteps,
bringing Jesus from the Throne of Glory to the Cross, and in His
spiritual power bringing Him every day from the Throne of His Father
down to brokenhearted heavy-laden souls. Now this is very plain talking
and you all receive it–but still most of the people do not understand
it. A minister, when he had done preaching in a country village, said
to a farm-laborer who had been listening to him, "Do you think Jesus
Christ died to save good people, or bad people?"

"Well, Sir," said the man, "I should say He died to save good people."
"But did He die to save bad people?" "No, Sir. No, certainly not, Sir."
"Well, then, what will become of you and me?" "Well, Sir, I do not
know. I dare say you are pretty good, Sir. And I try to be as good as I
can." That is just the common doctrine. And though we think it has died
out among us, that is the religion of ninety-nine English people out of
every hundred who know nothing of Divine Grace–we are to be as good as
we can. We are to go to church or to chapel and do all that we can and
then Jesus Christ died for us and we shall be saved.

Whereas the Gospel is that He did not do anything at all for people who
can rely on themselves–but gave Himself for lost and ruined ones. He
did not come into the world to save self-righteous people! On their own
testimony, they do not want to be saved. He comes because we need Him,
and therefore He comes only to those who need Him! And if we do not
need Him and are such good, respectable people, we must find our own
way to Heaven. Need, need alone, is that which quickens the Physician's
footsteps.

IV. We therefore come to another point, upon which we shall not stay
many minutes. It follows, therefore, and the text positively asserts
it, that THE WHOLE–THAT THOSE WHO HAVE NO GREAT NEED–NO NEED AT ALL,
WILL BE UNAIDED BY CHRIST.

Of course they ought to be left alone. No physician in his right mind
thinks of sending a prescription, nor does any surgeon think of sending
his bottles and his boxes of pills to people who profess to be
perfectly well! The prescription would be put into the fire and the
medicine thrown in the streets–the man himself would reckon it to be a
gross insult. Christ did not come into the world merely to insult
humanity. If humanity is the fine thing it thinks it is, then let it
exalt itself as it may and let it go on with the health it thinks it
possesses! Let it work out its own salvation if it will even allow that
this is required.

To send a physician to those who are whole is an insult to the
physician, too. He knocks at the door, "Who is ill here?" is the first
question. "Nobody, we are all well, thank you, Sir. We are all well, we
thank God–we are not as other men are down the street there, we have
no fever. The smallpox never comes here, we never catch scarlet fever.
We have nothing of the kind, Sir! We are glad to see you–glad to see
you–but we have nothing the matter with us."

The physician would find at once that he had been hoaxed in being asked
there. And that truly is the treatment Jesus Christ gets from a great
many people. You hear them say, "Lord have mercy upon us miserable
sinners." They are dressed in satin and all sorts of fine clothes, and
as good a people as you would find in all the parish. And if you come
to question them, they are not "miserable sinners" at all. I would like
to chalk "miserable sinners" on their backs and see whether they could
bear it. It is the same with you–you come here and if I pray about
sinners, there are some of you who say, "Yes, yes, we are sinners."

But if I came round and said, "Now let us take the Ten
Commandments–have you broken them?" I daresay there are some here who
would say, "Really, I do not know that I have in particular done
anything wrong. I do not feel that I have erred very remarkably." No,
the fact is you insult Christ by sending to Him when you are not ill
and it is nothing better than impertinence, though you think it to be a
compliment! The whole have no need of a physician–there is no need for
a physician's skill. "Why," says the doctor, as he looks round upon all
his store of knowledge, what is the good of this? A fool is as good as
I am to a man who is not ill. If you were sick, I would try to do my
best, but as there is nothing the matter with you, there is no room for
me."

You may fetch any crossing-sweeper and he will be of as much use to you
as the best physician when you are not ill. So if you do not confess
yourselves really to be sinners, Jesus will have no preciousness in
your eyes. He will be but an ordinary person. If you are not sick,
there is no likelihood of gratitude. Men will not thank a physician for
doing nothing. You will never be thankful to Christ for saving you if
you do not feel that you need saving.

Then again, there will be no honor to Him. Suppose you went to Heaven
and entered there in the same self-righteous frame of mind as you are
in now–what would you say? "Well done!" There would be no honor to
Christ, no glory to Jesus. A man must have a deep and conscious need of
Christ or else he cannot illuminate the Throne of Christ with glory by
his praise when he shall enter Heaven. Now I think there is some sweet
music in what I have been saying to those of you who do need–though it
must sound like a mockery to those of you who think you do not need it.
' V. To conclude, it follows then, that THOSE WHO ARE SICK SHALL BE
HELPED BY JESUS. Let the question go round these galleries and this
area this morning, "Am I sick? Am I sinful? Then I have a need of Jesus
and need is the only thing that will bring Jesus to me!" "Oh," says
one, "but I am so very sinful." Then you have a very great need and
there is room for very great power on the Savior's part! And that
display of Divine Grace shall give Him very great glory!

Sinner, believe on Him, that He can save you! Trust Him to save you and
let not your great sin keep you back. "Oh, but I have so many sins!"
Then, again, you have the greater need! And as it is need that brings
the doctor, so your many needs will be so many knocks at His door, so
many rings at His bell! He will come the faster–only plead earnestly
every one of your sins and ask Him to have pity upon you. "Yes," you
say, "but I have been so long sick." Then your case is a very bad one
and there is the more need of His care. He healed the woman that had
been thirty-six years disabled, and if you have been thirty-six
years–yes, if it is eighty years–He is still able to heal all your
need–let us keep to that– your need is your only plea. You have
evidently a very strong plea, for you have a very great need.

"Ah," says another, "but I have relapsed since I thought I was
healed–I have backslidden." Now there is a special promise given to
that form or sickness, "I will heal their backsliding." He does not
specially say, "I will heal their drunkenness and so on," but here is a
special promise for a special case! Now you need Him. This is a great
sin, this backsliding. Go to Him–rather ask Him to come to you. "Yes,"
says another, "but I cannot feel my sin as I would." This only proves
how much you need the Lord Jesus, since you have not even that form of
fitness which lies in a deep sense of need! You cannot even feel, for
you have a heart of stone.

Oh, make this a plea with Him. Say, "Jesus I need You more than anybody
else, for there are some who have a little health. They can feel they
are diseased, but I have not even that. I need You, oh I need You more
than any other!" Perhaps you will say, "But I cannot believe on Him as
I would." Then add that, also, to your other sins–confess your
unbelief! Tell Him you have great need of Him to give you faith. And go
to Him and oh, may He help you to believe that He is able to forgive
this sin, also. "Well," says one, "but I grow worse the more I think
about these things." I am glad of it, dear Friend! This growing worse
is a part of the cure!

Suppose you should keep on growing worse–if you should get to feel
yourself as black as the devil and as damned as a lost soul–yet while
you are in this world the Great Physician can heal you! And you still
have this great plea–that you need Him–you NEED Him. "Oh," says one,
"I cannot see how I can plead my need as the only thing." My dear
Friend, what would you plead? Suppose you were publicly begging. If I
had to turn to the trade of a beggar, believe me, I would not wear this
black coat, or, if I did, I would take care to have it pretty well
riddled with holes! Because the great thing you have to do when you
plead in the street is to convince the passers-by that you are in need.

Some lean, wretched-looking fellows have faces which are worth a
fortune to them! Their cheeks white with con-sumption–their bodies
thin and lean as with starvation–with scarcely a handful of rags on
them. They squat down in some corner and write on a paper, "I am
starving," and as you pass them you cannot help it–your hand goes into
your pocket! "Here is a case of destitution," you say–and you give
them relief. Imitate these vagabonds in all but their deception! Use
their logic, the rational argument that need is a beggar's best plea!

You are destitute! You are starving! Spread your case before God. The
best case you can make out in order to prevail with God is a bad one.
Let it be as bad as it can be and I venture to say the worst is the
best. Do not be apologizing, attempting to make your sins less than
they are. Tell Him you are a wretch undone without His Sovereign Grace.
And there, guilty and vile, and self-abhorred, fall flat before Him and
say, "Lord Jesus, if You want someone to heal, I am just the man. If
You want a case that can be blazoned abroad and that will make the
public ears ring and ring again with the praise of Your all-healing
medicine, I am Your man, Lord. "If You want one full of sores and
wounds and putrefying disease like Job upon a dunghill. If You want one
that is very far gone–that is rotten through and through–Lord, I am
Your man."

O believe, Sinner, He is your Savior, for while He loves to meet with
such cases as yours, you should rejoice to meet with such a Savior as
He is! And all you are asked to do is to believe that He can save you
and to trust Him to do it! If you knew Him, you would believe Him. He
loves to save. He can save the vilest! Trust Him then and may the
Spirit of God so lead you to understand Him that you can rely upon Him!
And, if you do, He will say, "Sinner, your sins are forgiven you, be of
good cheer, go on your way rejoicing." May God bless these words, for
Christ's sake. Amen.