CHAPTER 19
this Divine silence is not arbitrary, but is invariably the result of
something the man has done, or, deeper still, what the man has become.
Light is also thrown on the matter in one of Paul’s inspired statements, “If we deny Him, He will also deny us.” He is to us what we allow Him or make Him to be. Beyond all doubt, the fact of Christ ceasing to speak to a human soul can be explained.
Christ was silent to Herod.
The Scripture says Herod was glad to behold Him of whom he had heard much, and now hoped to see Him perform some wonderful work. But no interrogation that this corrupt, unprincipled man could put to Jesus elicited the slightest reply or even a recognition of his presence. He said nothing, and did nothing so that Herod marveled.
Christ had previously said of Herod that he was a fox. He had a low, cunning nature. On top of this was a vulgar curiosity to see Jesus, and behold him work physical wonders that would make him stare. To such a character the Divine Being is invariably silent. There is nothing to be said to such a man except Judgment Day words, and that time has not yet arrived.
The writer has been struck with the fact that, after a remarkable outpouring of the Spirit on a meeting, there is an immediate rush of a certain element in the community to the next service, who are brimful of curiosity to see what is going on; and invariably we have observed on such nights a notable absence of the Holy Ghost. He would not work to gratify such a lust of the eye, or speak to men and women in such a mental and spiritual state.
Again, Christ was silent to Pilate.
The Roman governor put many questions to Jesus, and charged Him to answer, but the Evangels tell us, “He answered him nothing.” Two replies, evidently given for the benefit of the world, make all the more remarkable Christ’s silence to the individual.
The study of the Roman governor shows him to have been timorous, cowardly, time-serving, and unjust. It is hard to conceive of a blacker character than that of the man who sat in judgment upon Jesus Christ. He
knew Him to be innocent, said he found no fault in Him, and yet sentenced Him to the most horrible death known to men. Who wonders that, to the numerous questions he propounded, the Savior made him no reply?
Still again, Christ was silent to the chief priests and elders.
Matthew says, “When He was accused of the chief priests and elders, He answered nothing.” And Mark states, “The chief priests accused Him of many things, but He answered nothing.”
Every one who has beheld and felt the power of character; who has looked across the great gap and chasm that yawns between virtue and vice, truth and falsehood, righteousness and unrighteousness, can thoroughly
comprehend and appreciate the silence of Christ to these men.
All of us have met persons, whom to talk with is simply to waste words, and lose time. They have put themselves where reason, truth, revelation, and warning are all alike lost upon them. To such people we finally become utterly voiceless.
In addition to this, we all know how the presence of unsympathetic, uncongenial natures will freeze the powers of speech, and drive us into profound silence. The explanation of being strangely shut up to
individuals, or before assemblies, can often be found right here, while the exquisite suffering of being compelled for years or a lifetime to be in the presence of moral opposites can easily be imagined. Of course, this leads to silence, long spells of silence, and whether in business or family life, only that conversation is indulged in which is absolutely necessary, or that is felt to be one’s duty.
We know of a married couple who lived over twenty years in the same house, and never exchanged a single word in that time. Neither one was religious, but one had moral character, and the other had none. One day there had been a revelation of a hideous, unprincipled heart, and
straightway a silence of twenty years fell in between the two.
If we contemplate a single feature of Pilate’s character, his injustice, we can easily see that alone would be sufficient to account for Christ’s voicelessness before him. All of us have doubtless been thrown with people at some time in our lives who seemed utterly incapable of rendering
us justice. No statement or explanation we could make them in
self-defense or extenuation, would make them change their opinions or remove their prejudice.
I once wrote a number of letters to a prominent man in order to disabuse his mind from the effect of false reports of my work. I was slow to awaken to the fact, but the awakening came at last, that he was set in his judgment and conclusions, and would not be persuaded, though one rose from the dead. From that moment a profound silence fell on me toward him, so far as self-defense is concerned. No matter what is written or told him, I never utter a word.
Many a daughter-in-law has found out that her mother-in-law will always side with her son. And many a son-in-law has ceased to expect justice from the mother of his wife. Such is the power of natural laws and affections that the woman is unable to discriminate and render true judgment. She is so biased by heart and family ties that the son-in-law ceases to expect justice, and falls into silence in the presence of this familiar manifestation of character.
All these things we mention that we might see why it is that, in spite of loud calling, testifying, praying, and preaching, some people obtain no answer from Christ. The state of the heart is such, the character is such, that it is impossible for the Savior to speak to them.
If a supposedly virtuous woman was seen chatting pleasantly on all kinds of topics with a man who was a notorious, impenitent libertine, observers who have any knowledge of character would immediately conclude that the woman was not herself pure. There could be pity and sorrow in a true woman’s heart over such a character, and a gospel warning might be given, but there could be no friendly social conversation.
If I regard iniquity in my heart, says David, the Lord will not hear me. So, far from answering us, God will not even hear us. In other words, the kind of character or life or heart we bring to God settles the question whether we will hear from Him or not.
There are individuals today, and a number of them were once Christians, to whom the Lord speaks no more. It is plainly evident to the practiced spiritual eye. They are receiving no messages from Him. They are
speaking to a silent Christ. As long ago prophesied, “They will call, and I will not answer.”
Who has not beheld these persons, both in pulpit and pew? And who has not heard them testifying, praying, and preaching, and yet no answer from the Son of God?
Saul, the first king of Israel, got into this dreadful place, and his cry was,
“God has departed from me, and answereth me no more.” He, by
disobedience, had brought himself where the Divine Being quit talking to him. Jerusalem is in that state today. Let the traveler go to what is called
“The Wailing Place,” and listen to the heartbroken cries, and then look up at the empty heavens above, where dwells the silent God. He came to them, and offered them eternal life. They refused to listen to Him. He foretold them what would at last come upon them as people, city, and nation, that they would one day call, and there would be no answer. It has all come to pass. The nation has been scattered, the city is trodden under foot, the temple is destroyed, and their God is silent above them. He answers no more, neither by dreams and prophets, nor by Urim and Thummim, nor by any other way; they, by their own conduct, have made for themselves a silent God, one who speaks to them no more.
May God, in His mercy, save the reader from this unspeakable woe and calamity, — a silent Christ, a Savior who has ceased to answer!
And yet there are men in the pulpit today who are living under this curse.
And there are men upon ecclesiastical official boards, and women
prominent in Church work, and people religiously busy in many ways, to whom Christ never speaks. And, sadder still, there are men and women dying now, while we write these words, to whom Christ is utterly silent, and the despair in their breasts at this hour springs from the fact that they made Him silent.
Again we repeat, May God save us from the immeasurable woe, both in life and death, of a silent Christ!