Ingratitude of Man

A SERMON DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, JUNE 9, 1872,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"He came unto His own, and His own received Him not." John 1:11.

I WOULD very frankly confess at the outset that I am not about to
preach from the words of this text and that I have selected it solely
because it contains an epitome of man's behavior towards the Savior. He
came unto His own people, the Jews, and answered in every particular to
the descriptions which their Prophets had given. But as they were
looking for a temporal leader who should dazzle them with an earthly
kingdom, they would not acknowledge the true Messiah. And though He
continued to come unto them preaching and working such miracles among
them as no other man did, so that their unbelief was without excuse,
they still rejected Him. This was a gross act of ingratitude. It was
superlative kindness which brought Jesus to that nation in particular
and to the sons of men in general–it was supreme ingratitude when that
nation, alas, in this representing us all, would not receive Him, but
rejected the Lord of Glory.

I use our text as an illustration of the ingratitude of men towards our
Lord, and it is upon that subject that I intend to preach at this time.
I lay the charge against not only those who lived in Christ's day, but
against mankind in general–against this assembly in particular–and
against myself, also, in sad measure. We have treated the Lord
ungratefully and have not rendered unto Him according to the benefits
received. In commencement, we shall speak upon the fact that those
among whom Jesus lived were guilty of ingratitude towards Him.
Secondly, coming home to ourselves, we shall dwell more at length upon
the lamentable fact that we, too, are guilty of ingratitude towards
Him. We shall close by observing, What then? What follows out of this?
What lessons are we to learn from it?

I. First then, THE PEOPLE AMONG WHOM OUR LORD DWELT WERE GUILTY OF
INGRATITUDE TOWARDS HIM. They were a favored people above all nations.
It was a distinguishing mark of Divine favor that the Messiah should be
born among them. They ought to have received Him with delight. His
signs and evidence of Messiahship were clear enough. He worked among
them unexampled miracles, and He spoke as no other man spoke, yet they
rejected Him, treating their best friend as though He had been their
worst foe. This was a high-handed act of national ingratitude!

Special cases occurred in our Lord's life involving still greater
ingratitude. Among the people of Israel many became partakers of our
Lord's healing power. Many blind eyes did He bless with sight. Into
many deaf ears did He cause sound to enter. Not a few lame men leaped
as an hart at His bidding, and many that were sick of palsy and all
manner of diseases were suddenly restored by His word. Yet the mass of
these healed ones did not become His disciples, for the number of His
male disciples, after He had ascended, was about 120–yet our Savior
had not healed merely120, but, according to the Evangelists, many
hundreds–I might, without exaggeration, say many thousands had been
partakers of His healing benefits! They were in their own persons
testimonies to the Lord's Divine power and yet they did not worship
Him!

From where did this obstinate unbelief come? Strange ingratitude this
must have been, that a man should owe to Christ his eyes, and yet
refuse to see in Christ his Savior–that he should owe to Christ the
tongue with which he spoke, and yet should be silent in the great
Physician's praise! Yet so it was. Many were healed, but few believed.
We know, moreover, that our Lord fed thousands of hungry persons. He
multiplied loaves and fishes, and fed crowds so that they did all eat
and were filled. For a time He was very popular with them–as anyone
will be who has loaves and fishes to distribute–and they would have
made him a king, for idle men much desire a monarch who will supply
their needs and relieve them from personal labor.

Yet these persons had no affection for His person or doctrine, but
followed Him simply and alone for what they could get from Him. Many of
these selfish followers, doubtless, gave their voices against Him and
shouted, "Crucify Him, crucify Him!" They ate bread with Him and lifted
up their heel against Him. Surely, after sitting at a table so

marvelously supplied, reason itself would have suggested to every
feaster that their Host must be a Prophet sent of God, if not God
Himself. 'Tis strange, 'tis passing strange, 'tis amazing that men
receiving so much at His hands should still remain unbelievers in Him.

The same treatment was dealt out to our Lord when He acted as the
Teacher of the people. He taught them pure Truths of God in the best
conceivable manner, and small, indeed, was His reward. They could not
complain of His sermons, that they were dull and unattractive, or that
they were austere and devoid of sympathy. We never read that a hearer
ever fell asleep under Christ's preaching, as Eutychus did under the
lengthy discourse of Paul. Neither were any terrified by His looks, as
men have been by fierce fanatic leaders–His ministry was pleasing and
charmed the ear–yet it was ill received. When His sermon at Nazareth
was finished, what was His reward? They took Him to the brow of the
hill and they would have cast Him down headlong had He not escaped!

When He taught the Jews in the Temple, "they took up stones again to
stone Him." In return for His arguments of mercy, they assailed Him
with the weapons of malice. Though, by declaring the glad tidings of
salvation He rendered to His hearers the most precious service, some of
them, in return, sought to entrap Him in His speech and others gnashed
their teeth in rage against Him. He brought light into the darkness,
and the darkness comprehended it not. Sometimes, when He found around
Him a more select audience than usual, the great Teacher would not
merely preach the elements of the Gospel, but would go more deeply into
the mysteries of it, but He had no thanks for doing so. On one occasion
He spoke to them concerning eating His flesh and drinking His
blood–but He had cast His pearls before swine–they turned again to
tear Him apart! And many of those who had followed Him up to that point
forsook Him and walked no more with Him.

Even the disciples who were true at heart to Him did not always prize
His sayings well enough to keep them in their minds–and they were not
influenced by His teaching and example so much as they should have
been. How often must the tender bosom of our Lord have been wrung with
anguish over human unkindness? The adder's tooth of ingratitude left
its print upon Him. Men returned unto Him evil for good, and for the
heaped-up measure of His benevolence they filled up equally high the
measure of their hate. What a plaintiveness is there in that question
which He asked after He had healed 10 lepers, and only one of them
returned to thank Him–"Were there not 10 cleansed, but where are the
nine?" as if He had expected at least that they would thank Him–it was
the least they could do in return for so matchless a blessing as
deliverance from a deadly disease!

Surely, whenever our Lord looked upon the handful of His followers He
must have recollected the hosts upon whom He had conferred benefits,
and said within himself, "Where are the nine?" From that thankless
generation the meek and lowly One received no recompense of love for
His temporal and spiritual bounties. Here and there a grateful woman
ministered to Him of her substance, and now and then a thankful soul
became His disciple. But, for the most part there was no response to
His love, save such as that which Jerusalem heard when, for His tearful
cries of compassion, He received shouts of murderous hate demanding
that He should be crucified!

Dear Brothers and Sisters, the further our Lord Jesus Christ went on in
life the more did He experimentally know the base ingratitude of
mankind. He lived for them–in obedience to His Father He spent His
whole life for men. He lived first for God's Glory, and next for love
of men. His meat and drink was to do men good. He forgot Himself–He
utterly renounced all ambitious purposes and gave Himself away that He
might seek and save the lost. As a mother devotes herself to her babe
so did Jesus lay Himself out for men. No! No mother ever loved her babe
as Jesus loved His own which were in the world! And yet, continually,
in every way, men sought to take away His life, which was more valuable
to them than it was to Him–for it was for their sakes, only, that He
continued, still, to live on earth.

How often had He to escape their cruel hands, and when His hour was
come how eagerly did they conspire to hound Him to His death! One would
have thought when the mob stood in the street of Jerusalem howling out,
"Crucify Him, crucify Him!" that He must have been a common informer
who had betrayed men for self–or a poisoner who had secretly tainted
the bread of the people with a deadly drug! Or a blasphemer who had
profaned every holy thing! Or a wretch whose character was doubly dyed
in infamy! Instead of which, there stood before that furious crowd the
meekest among men! The most inoffensive, and, at the same time, the
most generous! The most self-denying, the most tender Man of all of
woman born. Yet, how lustily they cry, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" and
when the question is put by the Roman Governor, "Why, what evil has He
done?" they can give no answer to it, and, therefore, they drown the
question with

their shouts, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" Oh, base ingratitude of men
to recompense such a life as His with such a cruel

death!

At last that evil generation had its way with the Man of Sorrows and
they took Him after He had been scourged, and led Him away to be
crucified. We know well that He needed not have died even then. One
thought of His could have averted the arrows of death. He had but to
will it and the nails would have sprung from their places, and from the
Cross the Lord would have leaped into the midst of His foes–to their
horror and dismay. He was dying for men! He suffered each pang for men!
For men the crown of thorns! For men the nailed hands! For men the
pierced side! For men the bleeding feet! For men the gall cup! For men
the pain! And for men the thirst! "He saved others, Himself He could
not save."

It was the greatest sacrifice that man had ever made for man, and yet
how was it repaid? The cruel crowd stood around Him and scoffed at His
pains. They made jests upon His Person–they insulted His faith–they
mocked His prayers! O You dear Christ of God, gladly would we have
covered Your sacred body from those lewd and brutal eyes, and sheltered
Your tender spirit from those inhuman taunts, but so it could not be!
Man is allowed to be infamous that You may suffer to the uttermost,
and, in so doing redeem Your people! See the contrast–Jesus loves and
man hates! He dies for sinners, and sinners insult Him in His agonies.

When our Lord had died and had lain in the grave three days, and had
risen again, His rising was for men. He might have gone into His Glory
if He had pleased, but He tarried for 40 days to minister blessings to
His people. The requital which He received from the Jewish people was
of the same evil character. They doubted whether He had risen from the
dead at all, and there were those who were base enough to invent that
idle tale concerning the stealing of His body at night by His
disciples. They laid imposture to the door of the Son of God, and
charged the Perfect One with acting a lie!

O man, how mad you must be! What strange insanity of iniquity is this
that you do thus requite your loving Lord! I think I hear a murmur
among you, as though you said, "Ah, but this was the guilt of the
Jews–the crime of unbelievers. All were not so cruel." But surely you
have forgotten that in this ingratitude even those who were nearest to
Him had a share! Those who were His immediate companions were
ungrateful to Him. What do you think of him who said, when his Lord had
been anointed by a loving woman's hand for His burial, that it was a
waste? That what was given to anoint the King of Glory might have been
sold for much, begrudging an offering to that divinely generous One who
had given up all for us? One would have thought that those who abode
with Him would have unanimously delighted in every honor shown to Him,
and one is apt to imagine that they should more often have interposed
to screen Him, if they might, from the ills of poverty, weariness and
need.

Among them all, was there not one who should have pressed hospitality
upon Him again and again, that He might no longer cry, "Foxes have
holes and the birds of the air have nests, but I, the Son of Man, have
not where to lay My head"? At any rate, when it came, at last, to the
dying struggle, should not His bosom friends have watched with Him one
hour? Might they not have guarded Gethsemane's gates when He left them
outside the wall? And the three who came within a stone's cast of His
grief and could hear His groans–could they not have forborne to
slumber? Must they sleep while the Lord is in agony? He excused them,
but could they excuse themselves?

The case of Judas was peculiarly afflicting to our Redeemer's sensitive
soul. In him treason reached its climax and base ingratitude outdid
itself. Yet Judas was an Apostle–the keeper of his Master's purse, the
friend who ate bread with Him and lifted up his heel against Him. Shame
on you, Judas! But, alas, you are not alone–others follow your hideous
example, and some such may be among us! "Lord, is it I?" But, where
were the rest of the disciples? Did they not accompany their Lord to
the judgment seat and come forward and boldly bear witness to the
righteousness of His Character? Not one of them was there to do Him
service! "All the disciples forsook Him and fled." One ventured where
he saw his Master's ill-treatment, but he thrice denied Him and added
oaths and curses, saying, "I know not the Man." Thus acted those whom
He had carried in His bosom and loved even to the end!

Those to whom He had opened up His inmost soul–who had eaten with Him
His last solemn meal before His passion–untrue to all their
professions of affection, sought every man his own safety, and left Him
to His fate. Call you not this ingratitude? What is worse than the
ingratitude of bosom friends and Brethren? The indictment lies against
all that were of His day with whom He came in contact, from the worst
even to the best. Where is the advocate who will plead their cause?
There was none faithful, no, not one. Ingratitude stained all.

II. But let us not think severely of them and forget ourselves, for we,
too, are in the same condemnation. This is our second point–WE ALSO
HAVE BEEN UNGRATEFUL TO OUR LORD. While I have been turning over this
subject in my own mind it has deeply affected me. But I feel quite
powerless to produce it before you so that you shall be affected in the
same manner unless God the Holy Spirit shall now be pleased to melt
your hearts. Remember that to bring a charge of ingratitude against a
man is a very strong thing to do. I would not like to be called
untruthful. I should grievously feel it, but to be called ungrateful is
equally as degrading.

Can any accusation be more dishonoring? Ingratitude is a mean and
despicable vice! He who is guilty of it is unworthy of the name of man.
A soldier who had been kindly rescued from shipwreck and hospitably
entertained, was mean enough to endeavor to obtain from Philip of
Macedon the house and farm of his generous host. Philip, in just anger,
commanded that his forehead should be branded with the words, "The
ungrateful guest." That man must have felt like Cain when the mark of
God was upon him–he must have desired to hide himself forever from the
gaze of man. Prove a man ungrateful and you have placed him below the
beasts, for even the brutes frequently exhibit the most touching
gratitude to their benefactors.

The old classic story of Androcles and the lion rises before us–the
man healed the lion, and years after, the lion, being let loose upon
him, crouched at his feet and acknowledged him as a friend. Only the
most despised creatures are used as metaphors of ingratitude! For
instance, we speak of the donkey which drinks, and then kicks the
bucket it has emptied, but we never speak thus of nobler animals. An
ungrateful man is thus lower than the animals! Inasmuch as he returns
evil for good, he is worse than bestial–he is devilish. Ingratitude is
essentially infernal. Ingratitude to friends is vile, to parents it is
worse–but to the Savior it is worst of all!

Therefore, what I shall have to say must not be received with coolness,
as though the charge were a trivial one. It is a very serious matter
that we should be open to an indictment of ingratitude towards the Lord
Jesus Christ. Hear, then, and sorrow as you hear, for I also mourn as I
speak! I lay the charge, first, against Believers–against those of us
who are Christians–and are, therefore, most indebted to Christ's love
and Grace. And we will observe at the outset that every sin of the
Believer has in it a measure of ingratitude, for, since our Savior has
suffered by reason of our sins, we are ungrateful when we wander into
sin! Since He came to destroy the works of the devil–it is ungrateful
to build, again, that which He has destroyed.

Shall that very sin which was the murderer of our Beloved be harbored
by us? The very thought is treason! Since these sins of mine were my
best Friend's worst enemies, and more to be blamed than the Jews or the
Romans, would it not be a shameless need of love to make them my bosom
companions? Our sins were the nails and our unbelief the spear! Away,
then, with them all! Brothers and Sisters, if we do not watch most
carefully against our besetting sins we shall be false to our Redeemer.
If a woman saw her husband's murderer before her and gave her heart to
him, what should we think of her? May the Lord, by His Grace, prevent
us from being equally shameless! May Grace enable us to take vengeance
on our sins because they drew down vengeance on our Savior!

Saints are especially ungrateful to the Lord Jesus when they allow any
rival to set up his throne in their hearts. He, "the chief among 10,000
and the altogether lovely," deserves to be admired and adored by our
souls–not only beyond all others–but to the exclusion of all others.
If your hearts were capacious enough to hold a thousand times more
affection than they now contain, the Lord Jesus would deserve it all!
If our hearts were as wide as Heaven, yes, as vast as seven heavens in
one–Jesus, having bled and died for us ought to monopolize all our
love! Yet we must confess that a wife, a child, a friend will steal
away our hearts. Ambition for position, love of pleasure, desire to
please, joy in wealth will invade and conquer a province of our hearts.
Oh, base ingratitude which allows us to set up Dagon in the temple
where the Crucified One, alone, should reign!

Oh, wretched unfaithfulness, which pines after these fleeting things in
preference to the eternal Lover of souls! How common is this
ingratitude! Do I address a single child of God but what must
acknowledge, "I am, indeed, guilty"? I sorrowfully confess my own
offenses against the infinite love of Jesus in this respect, and will
do so before God far more at large than here would be either fit or
profitable. How often, too, might we be charged with ingratitude when
we lose large measures of the Grace which we have already received. We
have power given us, at times, by the Holy Spirit, to rise above the
dead level of man's ordinary life, and we climb the mountain and stand
upon a higher platform altogether.

There are times with us when we love the Lord with all our hearts–when
our faith mounts to assurance and all our graces are bright and
strong–but we come down from that mountain almost immediately! Our
feet slide from the glorious elevation! It seems far easier to mount
than it does to tarry aloft upon the wing. The Holy Spirit admits us
into peculiar nearness to the heavenly Father and then we act
inconsistently and lose our communion, and come to follow afar off as
so many do. We have the sweet flavor of Divine love in our mouths and
yet desert the banquet table–what is this but ingratitude? Is it not a
slighting of the precious gifts of Jesus' Divine Grace?

He permits us to lean our heads on His bosom and we will not do so! He
stands at our door and knocks, and we refuse to open to him! He calls
us to take our fill of love, and we turn to the poor husks of earth.
Have we not grievously provoked Him? Would He not long ago have
divorced His unfaithful spouse if it had not been true that He hates
putting away? Beat on your breasts, Beloved, and confess your ill
manners towards your best Beloved!

Could we, any of us, plead innocence if the charge were brought in
another way, namely, that we render Him but little service and give Him
but lukewarm love? How much have we done for Jesus, after all? How much
have we ever loved Him? How much do we love Him now? I must correct
myself– I ought to have said how little. If we hear of the death of
Christ upon the Cross, we listen to it as coldly as though it were a
thrice told tale with which we had no concern. How is this? Are our
hearts like an adamant stone? A silly story of a lovesick maid will
bring tears to our eyes far sooner than the tragedy of the Cross!

If we did but see one of our fellow creatures suffer but a millionth
part of what the Lord of Glory bore for us, we should be moved
infinitely more than we are, now, when Calvary is before us. Why? Is
not this black ingratitude? Who can extenuate such need of tenderness?
Our love to Jesus, is it love at all? When I read of some of the saints
giving up all that they have, crossing the sea, penetrating into
barbarous regions, bearing their lives in their hands, sacrificing
comforts, and living day by day on the verge of death amid fever and
wild beasts–and all that they might honor Christ–I am utterly
ashamed! What are we, my Brethren? Unto what shall we liken ourselves?
Like a Colossus such men bestride their age, while we, base things,
hide our dishonorable heads for shame at our spiritual littleness!

The love of Christ to us is like that ancient furnace which was heated
seven times hotter, while our love is like a solitary spark which
wonders within itself that it is yet alive. May the Holy Spirit change
this and give us yet to glow and burn with sacred fire like the bush in
Horeb when it was aglow with Deity!

The same humiliation reflections arise when we meditate upon the
consecration, or rather non-consecration, of our substance to the
Redeemer's cause. What a small portion do the most of us give to His
work, or to His poor! If you were to take the numbers of Church
members, and the contributions to missions, you would hardly dare to
say how little per head is given! It is so trifling that it is rather
an insult to the Savior than an offering to Him. Some hearers even try
to cheat the minister whom they flock to hear and evade every claim,
even from the Church to which they belong. For the most part, when
Christians take stock of what they have, and then calculate what they
have given, they have great cause for shame. If our estimate of
Christ's worth is according to our gifts to Him, there are some who
would not give 20 pieces of silver for Him. To some these remarks are
more applicable than to others–to many congregations more necessary
than to you, for, thank God, there are those among you who delight to
honor the Lord with their substance. But these are the last persons to
think that they have done enough–in fact, those who do most for Christ
are the first to feel that they do far too little!

Furthermore, Brethren, how often is ingratitude shown to our Lord Jesus
by neglect of His commands. Some professors need to be driven to
obedience. If you tell the man who earnestly loves Christ his duty, he
is charmed to know it, and to attend to it at once. But love to Christ
is so low in some professors' hearts that you must hammer the precept
into them again and again, and again, and again! And yet they will
linger long before they will fulfill their Master's will. They must be
persuaded and threatened before they will yield. Fervent gratitude runs
with winged feet wherever Jesus bids it go. If we were more jealously
obedient to our Lord, it would be evident that we were more grateful to
Him.

Now, I feel, Brothers and Sisters, in my heart as if I would be glad to
have done preaching, for I need to get alone and sigh and weep this
sermon over by myself. I need to confess and mourn over my own
conscious ingratitude to my ever-blessed Lord, whom, nevertheless, I
love. I do remember well the time when I imagined that if the Lord
would only give me pardon through the atoning blood, nothing would be
too difficult for me to attempt for His dear sake. And yet, though I
have been cleansed from sins and accepted in Christ Jesus, I am too
often sluggish in my Master's errands. Well

do I remember when I first began to preach His Word–I thought if I
might but have opportunities of pleading with men for Jesus I would
pour out my very soul while I urged them to flee from the wrath to
come!

Alas, although I am not altogether without zeal for God, my zeal falls
far short of what it should be. Gladly would I speak fire–fire which
should melt your hearts–and then set them on flame with ardent love to
Jesus! I cannot reach my own ideal and I doubt not that if I could, I
should still be faulty. I charge you not, my Brethren, with ingratitude
without confessing and acknowledging it in myself. Come, my Brothers
and Sisters, let us not confess with our lips only, but with inward
penitential grief! Let us seek godly sorrow which works practical
repentance! May we, in the power of the Holy Spirit, resolve that we
will love our Lord better for the future and yield to the sweet
constraints of His love.

Now I have a heavy task, indeed, and that is to speak of some whose
ingratitude to Christ is even greater, if greater can be, for they
utterly refuse to trust Him. I desire to speak with you to whom I have
preached in vain these many years. The one topic of every Sabbath in
this place is Jesus Christ crucified. I have other things to say to
you, but this is repeated over and over again. You are told without
ceasing that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners and that,
"whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life."
Notwithstanding all this, up to this moment many of you refuse to trust
Him! You "stumble at the Word being disobedient," and you thus make the
rock of salvation to be a rock of offense to you.

If you deny it, I will ask you, Why, then, have you not accepted Him
for your Savior? Why are you still alienated in your hearts from Him?
Perhaps your reply is that you do not think of these things. Is this,
then, your conduct towards the dying Savior–that you will not even
think of Him? Is He nothing to you? Do you despise His blood? Perhaps
it is that you do not understand. Then surely, in your case it must be
a willful blindness of understanding, for the Truth of God has been put
before you as plainly as words could utter it! And neither do I know
how I could have spoken more clearly. You have rejected, up to this
moment, the Christ who died for sinners! Do you know what you have
done? I wish He would stand here upon this pulpit at this moment, that
you might see who it is that you have despised.

See Him with the ruby drops still glistening upon His crown of thorns,
His face bruised, His countenance lined with grief, His eyes red with
tears, His shoulders furrowed with the lash, His hands and feet wounded
with the nails and His side gashed with the lance–this is the Man of
Sorrows whom you have refused! Look, now on Him whom you have pierced!
Can you, in His Presence, continue your rejection? Will you still bar
your hearts against Him? Will you now say to Him to His face, "Son of
God, bleeding for human sin, we will not trust You! Son of Man, dying
in the place of sinners, we will not yield to You"? Yet you have said
that in His Presence, which is everywhere real, though undiscerned by
eye or ear. With those eyes of fire which discern from Heaven
everything that is done on earth, He has seen you impudently refusing
to be saved by Him.

Alas, I have to go further. Some of you have not been content with
rejecting the Lord, but have gone the length of opposing Him! You have
made His Gospel the theme for jest and treated His people with
indignity. It always staggers me that men should treat the meek and
lowly Jesus and His gracious Gospel so roughly. There is something so
tender and so meek about the Savior that I pity from my soul the wretch
who had the heart to strike Him in the face, or was so base as to
insult with spit that dear and sorrowful visage! Once in the sack of a
city, when the fierce soldiers had commenced a general massacre, a
little child was seized by a rough warrior, who was about to kill him,
but stayed his hand when the little one said, piteously, "Please, Sir,
don't kill me, I am so little."

I think the Savior's meek and gentle manners might be a similar
argument for staying the hand of wrath. Who can harm the harmless Lamb
of God? Persecutor, what evil has Jesus done to you? Reviler, what has
He ever said to injure you? When has He given you an ill word or look?
Ah, it is to His silence that you owe your life! Should He accuse you,
you would be undone forever! Yet He has not accused you to the Father,
but has pleaded for your reprieve! Sometimes in our police courts you
may have seen an inhuman husband brought before the magistrate for
having maltreated the poor unhappy woman who is linked to him for life.
The policeman has taken him in the very act of assaulting her–her poor
sickly face bears evidence of his brutality.

She can scarcely stand, for his cruelty has put her life in jeopardy.
Watch her closely. The magistrate asks her to give evidence against the
creature who has so cruelly injured her. She weeps and shakes her head,
but says not a word. She is asked, "Did he not ill-treat you
yesterday?" She is long before she speaks, and then not a word is
uttered against the husband whom she still loves, though there is
nothing loveable about him. She declares that she cannot bear to appear

against her husband and she will not. What a stone must that man's
heart be if he does not love her from then on all her days!

But, see a nobler counterpart! There is the Lord whom you have injured
by your hard speeches and cruel mockeries. See you not His face all
marred with your bruises? Yet He does not accuse you to the Father but
when He opens His mouth to speak for sinners, He cries, "Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do." He must be ingratitude
incarnate who can continue to use Him or His cause despitefully! There
is no chivalry, no–there is no manhood in the heart which treats
despitefully one who neither provokes nor retaliates. I must add,
before I close this point, that some are ungrateful to Christ, from
whom, above all others, such conduct ought never to have proceeded. The
text says–"He came to His own, and His own received Him not."

In this very place the Lord Jesus has come to those who appeared to be
His own. You, Sir, were your mother's own boy, and she, now in Glory,
was an ardent lover of the Savior. And when Jesus came to you He might
have said, "This is the son of one of My dearest friends, the son of a
woman whose whole heart was Mine–surely her son will love Me, too."
Yet you did not respond to Him. Jesus has come to your house and found
there a wife who ardently loves Him, and He might well have said,
"Surely the husband of My handmaiden will receive his wife's Friend."
Yet you have shut the door upon Him.

Possibly I address an unconverted person who is not only the son of a
Christian father, but the child of one of God's own ambassadors, yet he
himself is an enemy to God! Surely a minister's children should be the
Lord's, and yet ministers' sons and daughters have been seen among
reprobates. I know not why it is, but sadly often has this been the
case. Do I address one such? I pray that you may no longer be
ungrateful to your father's God. Yes, and there are some here who years
ago were sorely sick and on the borders of the grave, and they said,
"Please, God, if we ever get up again, we will seek the Lord." You were
thus in a sense, "His own" by your own voluntary vow–but you have not
received Him.

Today the Lord Jesus comes to you again, and shows His hands and side,
and asks you why it is you break your promises to Him? He asks why it
is you love not your mother's Savior? Why it is you care not for your
father's God? And what it is that has turned you against Him? Many good
works has He shown you, and for which of these do you stone Him? He is
full of love, and pity, and mercy and power to save–for what reasons
do you reject Him?

May the Lord grant that these appeals may have power with you by the
voice of the Holy Spirit.

III. I close by answering the question WHAT THEN? What comes of all
this? Why, first, let us appreciate the sufferings of our Lord Jesus
Christ! We must never lower our estimate of the bodily pains of Jesus.
They were undoubtedly very great, but, after all, His mental sufferings
were far greater and among the most acute of them must have been
this–to be always treated with ingratitude by those whom He loved so
well. Do I address, here, a tender heart which has bled from the stabs
of ingratitude? A mother with an ungrateful son? A friend with a
treacherous friend?

You know that nothing stings more than ingratitude, yet your Lord had
to feel it every day! He was always occupied in doing everything for
men, and men, on the other hand, were doing everything against Him. He
was from day to day like Sebastian the martyr who was bound to a tree
and made the target for a thousand arrows. The archers have sorely shot
at Him and wounded Him, but His love abides in strength and so remains
to this day.

Next, admire the Savior's love. When a man is kind and loving he will
continue so until he meets with base returns, and then he is very apt
to become indignant and stay the course of his benevolence. When we try
to bring men together who have fallen out with each other–where
ingratitude has been the cause of it–we use strong arguments. We have
to say to the injured person, "You have been badly used, but labor to
rise superior to it all. It is true that such ingratitude does deserve
to forfeit your kindness, but do more than ordinary men would do–heap
coals of fire on the ungrateful

head!"

The Savior knew that men would be unkind to Him. He knew it all
beforehand, and when men were ungrateful He did not merely hear their
words, but He read their hearts–and He knew that their hearts were yet
more opposed to Him–yet He never turned aside from His course of love.
He pressed on, still, through reproaches and shame and derision and
every form of human evil till He had finished the redemption of His
people! Admire His love and let it kindle in you love in return.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, see next the mighty power of the pardoning
blood of Jesus. Jesus can take away even this scarlet sin of
ingratitude! Though He came to His own and His own received Him not,
yet to as many as received Him to

them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to as many as
believed on His name. Have you rejected Jesus 50 years? Come to Him
even now, and He will blot out your sins in a moment! Have 70 years
rolled over your guilty head, and have you remained deaf to all His
appeals of mercy? Yet come and welcome, come and welcome! The gentle
Savior has not exhausted His pity! May His Spirit draw you now, and you
shall find Him as ready to receive you as He would have been 50 years
ago. Admire the Grace which continues to invite and the efficacy of the
blood which is still able to cleanse.

Another practical lesson is to let us see how we ought to forgive. If
another man has injured me it is no reason why I should injure myself.
Perhaps you do not see the application of that utterance. Well, here is
the explanation of it. If I have loved a man and his only return is
unkindness, shall I injure myself by leaving off loving him? After all,
it will be a great injury to my heart to become unkind. If I have
sought a man's good and he has only returned me evil, do not let me
bring myself down to his level. Let me rather seek to rise higher! And
because of his evil let me seek to do more good to him– then I shall
be like Christ, for He did! When our sin abounded, His Grace did much
more abound! In our Lord's life, sin and love contested which should
win the day. Man sinned yet more and more, and Christ loved yet more
and more. On the Cross He loved to the death and won the battle, and
this day human ingratitude is beneath the feet of the conquering
Savior. Love has won the day and sin is crushed beneath its feet. O
Christian, do battle in the same spirit and the Lord help you to be
more than conqueror through Him that loved you!

Dear Brothers and Sisters, lastly, let us judge how we ought to live in
the light of this subject. If we have been ungrateful up till now,
shall we be so any longer? No, let us now, on bended knee, with earnest
soul, cry to God to inflame us with something of the fire which set the
Savior on a blaze with sacred ardor for our good! Let us devote
ourselves wholly to Him. Let us cry, "Bind the sacrifice with cords,
even with cords to the horns of the altar." What manner of people ought
we be who owe so much to the Grace of God?

And there is this mournful reflection–what will become of those who
shall die after having lived a life of constant ingratitude to Christ?
There is a limit even to His mercy, for death shuts the golden gate of
love. Justice takes the place of mercy as soon as the impenitent man
has closed his dying eyes. An excellent writer has well said that,
"Divine justice is love in flames," and so it is. When once love turns
to jealousy, it is cruel as the grave–the coals thereof are of juniper
that have a most vehement flame. You may despise Him, whose feet were
pierced, and reject the Savior whose heart was opened with the
spear–but He will come again. I know not when, but His Word is,
"Behold, I come quickly."

Beware, I pray you, for in that day this shall be the word, "Behold,
you despisers, and wonder and perish!" In that pierced hand shall be a
rod of iron and He shall break His enemies in pieces like potters'
vessels! His pierced feet shall be sandaled with light and out of the
mouth which now speaks promises shall come forth a two-edged sword with
which to strike His adversaries.

"Kiss the son lest He be angry and you perish from the way while His
wrath is kindled but a little." He will forgive you now! He waits to be
gracious to you now! Mercy now rules the day! But let the sun of mercy
go down and the blackness of darkness shall abide forever. O provoke
not the Lord! May His mercy turn your hearts by the power of His ever
blessed Spirit and unto Him shall be the glory forever and ever. Amen.
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Perseverance Without Presumption