THE ACCEPTABLE YEAR OF THE LORD - Robert Murray Mcchene

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; He hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the Acceptable Year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our Lord: to comfort all that mourn: to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness: that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.”—ISA. 61:1–3. IT is six years, this day, since I first preached to you, as your pastor,

from these blessed words. These years have rolled past us like a mighty river. It is a solemn thing to look over them. In climbing a lofty mountain, it is pleasant to come every now and then to a resting-place, where you may stand and look back. You can thus see the progress you have made, and you can observe the prospect winding all around you. In like manner, in going up the hill of Zion, it is pleasant to come to such a resting-place as this day affords, that we may stand and see what progress we have made, and whether we have a wider, brighter prospect of eternal glory. How many have left our company since these six years began! They have gone to render their last account in the world where time is not measured by years. Of some I trust we can say, “Blessed are the dead, for they died in the Lord.” Many, I trust, have been born again passed from death unto life—begun a new life that shall never have an end. Some, I hope, have been brought to climb a step higher on Jacob’s ladder—to get nearer the top of Pisgah, to see more of Canaan’s happy land. Some, I fear, have gone back, and walk no more with Jesus. Ye did run well, who did hinder you? You did put your hand to the plough, but you have turned back, and are not fit for the kingdom of God. Some, I fear, are six years nearer to hell; your ear deafer to the voice of the charmer; your heart more wedded to its idols—more dead to God. Let us solemnly look back this day, both minister and people, and, oh, let us take warning by the errors of the past, and begin a new and better course from this day.

I. The anointing of the Holy Spirit makes a successful gospel minister. —So, it was in Christ’s ministry. “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,” etc. So, it is in every ministry. The more anointing of the Holy Spirit, the more success will the minister have.

You remember the two olive-trees that grew close beside the golden candlestick and emptied the golden oil out of themselves. —Zech. 4:12. These represent successful ministers— “anointed ones that stand by the Lord of the whole earth.” Oh, see what need there is that ministers be filled with the Spirit—that, like John, they be “in the Spirit on the Lord’s Day”—that Christ’s people may be kept “like a lamp that burnet!” You remember John the Baptist. The angel said of him before he was born, “He shall be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother’s womb.” What then will his success be? “And many of the children of Israel shall he turn to the Lord their God.” Oh, learn what need there is that ministers be filled with the Holy Ghost, that they may be converting ministers—that, like John, they may “turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just.”

You remember the apostles. Before the day of Pentecost, they were dry, sapless trees. They went over the cities of Israel preaching the glad tidings of the kingdom, and yet it would seem they had little or no success. They could not number many spiritual children. But when the day of Pentecost was fully come—when the Spirit came on them like a mighty rushing wind—then behold what a change! Under the first sermon three thousand men were pricked in their heart, and said, “Men and brethren, what must we do?” Oh, see what need we have of a day of Pentecost to begin in the hearts of ministers, that our words may be like fire, and the hearts of the people like wood!

In looking back upon my ministry, I am persuaded that this has been the great thing wanting. We have not been like the green olive trees; we have not been like John the Baptist, filled with the Holy Ghost; we have not been like the apostles on the day of Pentecost, filled as with a mighty rushing wind; we have not been able to say, like the Saviour, “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,” or you would not be as you are this day. There would not be so many dead sinners amongst you—slumbering under the voice of gospel mercy, on the very brink of hell. There would not be so many labouring and heav- laden souls going from mountain to hill, forgetting your resting-place. There would not be so many children of light walking in darkness—dull, heavy, beclouded Christians. That is a piercing word: “If they had stood in my counsel, and had caused my people to hear my words, then they should have turned from their evil way, and from the evil of their doings,” Jer. 23:22. Success is the rule under a living ministry. Want of success is the exception. Oh, pray that if God spare us another year, we may be more like the high priest, who first went into the holiest of all, and then came out and lifted up his hands and blessed the people! Pray that we may be more like the angels, who always behold the face of our Father, and therefore are like a flame of fire. “He maketh his angels’ spirits, his ministers a flame of fire.” You know that a heated iron, though blunt, will pierce its way, even where a much sharper instrument, if it be cold, cannot penetrate. So, if only our ministers be filled with the Spirit, who is like fire, they will pierce into the hardest hearts, where the sharpest wits cannot find their way. It was thus with Whitfield: that great man lived so near to God, he was so full of heavenly joy and of the Spirit of God, that souls were melted under him like snow in thaw-time. John Newton mentions it as a fact, that, in a single week, Whitfield received no fewer than a thousand letters from persons distressed in conscience under his preaching. Oh, pray that we may not be “clouds without water” which indeed have all the appearance of clouds, but have no rain in them! Pray that we may come to you as Paul came to the Corinthians, “in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling; and that our speech and our preaching may not be with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power:” 1 Cor. 2:2–4.

II. The subject matter of all faithful preaching

(1.) A faithful minister preaches good tidings to all distressed consciences. —This was one great object of Christ’s ministry. “The Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek” etc. Jesus came to be a Saviour to the meek—not the naturally gentle and sweet-tempered, but those who are concerned about their souls. Men naturally say, “I am rich and increased with goods, and have need of nothing;” therefore they are proud, and their tongue walketh through the earth. But when God begins a work of grace in their heart, He convinces of sin, He humbles them to the dust, and makes them feel “wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.” Jesus always offered himself as a Saviour to such. One poor leper said, “Lord, if Thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.” Jesus said, “I will, be thou clean.” Nay, He left an invitation which will be precious to burdened souls even to the end of the world: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” Matt. 11:28.

Jesus came “to bind up the broken-hearted.” There is many a wounded heart that is not broken. The broken-hearted are those who have lost all hope of saving themselves by their own righteousness. As long as a person has hope, the heart remains whole and unbroken. As long as a sailor’s wife has hope that her husband’s vessel may outride the storm, her heart is calm within her; but when the fatal news comes—when an eyewitness says that he saw the lifeless body sinking in the waves—the thread of hope is cut asunder, her heart dies within her, she droops, she sits down brokenhearted. As long as an awakened sinner has hope of saving himself—as long as he thinks that self-reformation, weeping over past sins, and resolving against future ones, will clear him before God—so long his heart is calm; but when the fatal news comes, that all he does is done out of a sinful heart, that even “his righteousness’s are as filthy rags,” that “by the deeds of the law no flesh can be justified,” then does the heart of the sinner die within him; he says, “It is done now, it is all done now, I never can do anything to justify myself.” Is this the state of your soul? This is a case for Christ. He justified the ungodly; He imputes righteousness without works; his blood and righteousness are ready for poor brokenhearted sinners. They are the very souls that answer Him; He is the very Saviour that answers them. Once a broken-hearted woman, who had spent her all upon physicians, and was nothing better, but rather worse, came behind Jesus, and touched the hem of his garment. Did He show himself the Saviour of the broken-hearted? Yes, He said, “Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole.”

Jesus came “to proclaim liberty to the captives.” All natural men are slaves. Some are bound, and know it not, like the slave in the West Indies, who could not comprehend what liberty meant. They are corded by their sins, yet say, I am free. Some are bound and know it. They are awakened to feel the galling chains of lust; they feel their feet sinking in miry clay. Some of you know what it is to sin and weep and sin and weep again. “The way of transgressors is hard.” Jesus came to be a Saviour to such. He came not only to be our righteousness, but to be a fountain of life. “In the Lord have I righteousness and strength.” Once there was a man possessed by a legion of devils, exceeding fierce, who wore no clothes, and dwelt among the tombs. But Jesus commanded the unclean spirit to go out of him, and “he sat down at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind.”

One great object of our ministry among you has been to bring good tidings to distressed consciences. Blessed be God, there have always been some distressed consciences among you from the first day until now. In almost all our parishes, in these remarkable times, there are many souls under conviction of sin. There are always some who feel uneasy under the word—who feel that their heart is not right with God, that they are slaves of sin, and who go on from day to day carrying a heavy burden. I have always tried to speak to such souls. I have shown you plainly that you are not safe because you are anxious; that you need to be in Christ Jesus; that these convictions may die away. I have tried to let down the gospel cord within your reach. I have showed you that Christ offers himself in a peculiar manner to such as you. “The whole has no need of a physician, but they who are sick.” How often Brainerd records it in his journal, that a heavy-laden soul was brought to true and solid comfort in Christ this day! Why have I so seldom to record the same thing of weary souls among you? For years I have gone among you preaching the only foundation of a sinner’s peace. Yet how few have had a lively and soul-refreshing view of Christ! How few can say, “What things were gain to me, these I count loss for Christ!” Ah! my friends, the fault lies with you or with me, for God has no pleasure in a burdened soul. “Oh, that ye had hearkened to my commandments, for then had your peace been like a river, and your righteousness like the waves of the sea!”

(2.) A faithful pastor comforts mourners in Zion. —This was another great object of Christ’s ministry— “to comfort all that mourn,” etc. There are many things to bring a cloud over the brow of a Christian. There are outward troubles. “Many are the afflictions of the righteous.” Persecutions will come: “a man’s foes shall be they of his own household.” Temptations will come; they are common to man. Sloth and want of watchfulness often bring into darkness. —Song 5:2–8. The body of sin often makes us cry, “Oh wretched man!” But the Lord Jesus has the tongue of the learned, to speak a word in season to them that are weary. The religion of Jesus is eminently the religion of joy. He does not love to see his church sitting in ashes, mourning, and heavy with sorrow. He loves to see her putting on his beautiful righteousness, filled with the Holy Spirit of joy, and covered with the garment of praise, waving like green trees of righteousness to his glory.

Once “Peter walked on the water to go to Jesus; but when he saw the wind boisterous, he began to sink, and cried, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?” Christ has an almighty arm for sinking disciples to cling to. Once two disciples were walking towards a village north of Jerusalem. They talked earnestly together to beguile the way, and they were sad. A stranger drew near, and went with them; and as he went, He expounded to them, in all the Scriptures, the things concerning Jesus. In breaking of bread, He was revealed to them, and left them exclaiming, “Did not our hearts burn within us?” So, Jesus reveals himself to his own to this day and makes the sad bosom burn with holy joy.

This has been one of the chief objects of my ministry among you. That scripture has been for some time deeply engraved upon my memory and heart, “He gave some pastors and teachers, for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ,” Eph. 4:11, 12; and, accordingly, it has been my endeavor to lead mourners in Zion to a meeting with Christ, who alone can restore comfort to them. What has been our success? I fear there are not many of you as happy as you might be. Are not most, like Peter, sinking; or sad, like the two going to Emmaus? Are not most in all our parishes rather seeking than finding rest? How little is there among you of the “beauty—the oil of joy, and the garment of praise!” How few can truly sing the 103d Psalm; how few feel their sins removed, as far as east is from the west; how few keep themselves in the love of God; how few have Christ dwelling in their hearts by faith; how few are filled with all the fulness of God, and rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory!

How often Brainerd mentions in his journal: “Numbers wept affectionately, and to appearance unfeignedly, so that the Spirit of God seemed to be moving on the face of the assembly;” and again, “They seemed willing to have their ears bored to the doorposts of God’s house, and to be his servants forever!” How little is there of this divine presence and holy impression in our assemblies! How many a meeting for prayer has lost the fervency which once it had! Ah! surely the fault lies with you or with me. Immanuel is still in the midst of us. He is still “full of grace and truth;” He is “the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.” Oh, that the little flock in this place were covered with his beauty, filled with his holy joy, and clothed with his garment of praise!

(3.) A faithful watchman preaches a free Saviour to all the world. — This was the great object of Christ’s ministry— “To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” “Unto you, O men, I call,” was the very motto of his life. On the year of jubilee, the silver trumpet was made to sound throughout the whole land. Every man might return to his possession; every slave might go free. Christ felt that the trumpet of the true jubilee was committed to Him; and therefore, his feet were beautiful upon the mountains, and He went about continually publishing glad tidings of peace. Once He stood among a crowd of unbelieving Jews. His word was, “Him that cometh unto me I will in nowise cast out;” and again, to a similar crowd He said, “I am the door; by me if any man enters in, he shall be saved.” When He died upon the cross, the priests scoffed at Him, the people wagged their heads at Him, the soldiers cast lots for his garment; but “the veil of the temple was rent from the top to the bottom,”—this signifying that the way into the holiest was now made manifest, that any sinner might enter in and be saved. When He arose from the dead, there were but five hundred brethren who believed on his name: the whole world was lying in the wicked one; every creature under the frown of an angry God. “Go ye,” said He, “into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.” When Laodicea became a dead and lukewarm church, fit only to be spued out of Christ’s mouth, you would have expected a message of judgment. No, He sends one of free, boundless, glorious grace. “If any man will hear my voice and open the door, I will come into him.”

This has been the great object of our ministry. In all our parishes, at the present day, the great mass of the people are living without Christ, and without God, and without hope in the world. The most, even of churchgoing people, it is to be feared, are “dead in trespasses and sins.” Ever since coming among you, our great object has been to awaken such. We have proclaimed the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God. We have told you that Christ is freely offered to you in your present condition, whatever that may be; that though you have lived in sin, and are now living in sin, and God is angry with you every day, still Christ is free to you every day. We have told you that though you do not care for your soul, still Christ cares for it; though you are lost, still Christ is seeking the lost; though you are loving your simplicity, delighting in scorning, and hating knowledge, still Christ is crying after you; that before you repent, and before you believe, Christ is freely offered unto you: “All day long have I stretched out my hands to a disobedient and gainsaying people.”

What has been our success? Blessed be God, there are some of you who have fled for refuge to the hope set before you, but the most sleep on. Six acceptable years have passed over you. A year of gospel preaching is an acceptable year; a year of revival, when many have been pressing into the kingdom of God, is still more an acceptable year: both these have passed over you. The door has stood open all this time, and any sinner among you might have entered in. Bibles, ministers, providence, the Spirit striving—all have been pressing you to enter in. But you are still without—Christless, unpardoned, unborn again, unsaved. What can you look for but “the day of vengeance?” A year of mercy is past, a day of vengeance is coming. God pleads long, but judgment will be the work of a day. How many among you will never see such another season of grace as that which lately passed over you! You will probably never again have such an opportunity to be saved. “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and you are not saved.” Many of you will one day wish you had never heard of the acceptable year; many of you will wish that you had never heard the preached gospel, —that you had perished before the glorious work of God began. “Oh, that ye were wise, that ye understood this: that ye would consider your latter end.”

ST PETER’S, DUNDEE, Nov. 27, 1842.