Down to Earth But Heavenly Minded

The Miracles of the Lord Jesus: What They Prove

Each discourse, each miracle, nay each word and act, is a fresh ray of glory streaming forth from the Person of the Word through the veil of His flesh. The Incarnation is the one great wonder; other miracles follow as a matter of course. The real marvel would be if the Incarnate Being should work no miracles; as it is they are the natural results of His presence among men, rather than its higher manifestation. — Liddon.

A miracle is an act of superhuman power. All the miracles of the Lord Jesus were such, and were the attestation of His person and mission. He had come forth from the Father, and come into the world, and His miracles were the proof of this. They were His Father’s works, as His arresting and challenging words to the Jews declared, “If I do not the works of My Father, believe Me not. But if I do, though ye believe not Me, believe the works; that ye may know and believe that the Father is in Me, and I in Him” (John 10:37-38). The Holy Ghost speaking through Simon Peter on the day of Pentecost described these works as “miracles, wonders and signs which God did by Him.” They were works of power that amazed the people, and were signs to them that God had come down to them in mercy.

Modernists refuse to accept the miraculous. They hold that there are “laws of nature” that are immutable and cannot be overruled or suspended, and that what appeared to be miracles in former days were simply the operations of certain of these laws which were unknown to the majority of people at the time. They would instance the fact that the solemn tramp of the soldiers’ feet at the funeral of King George was heard in the uttermost ends of the earth as plainly as in the streets of London. One hundred years ago such an idea would have been laughed at as the conception of a madman. Yes, but the works of the Lord were not on such a plane as that; they were wrought in another realm; they were addressed to the needs and miseries of men, which were the result of sin having entered into the world. They were not a challenge to immutable laws but the revelation of infinite mercy in the One to whom all the prophets bore witness. When doubts assailed the imprisoned Baptist and he sent his disciples to Jesus, saying, Art Thou He that should come, or look we for another? He answered, “Go your way, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard, how that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, to the poor the Gospel is preached. And blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in Me” (Luke 7).

He who did these things was the One who had created all things, “For by Him were all things created, that are in heaven and that are in earth, visible and invisible … all things were created by Him and for Him … and by Him all things consist,” and amongst the “all things” were these laws of nature that bind the universe together for its good. They are His laws and must surely be subservient to Him, for He who made them controls them, they all subsist in Him. In them is declared the wisdom of the Creator. They have been there from the beginning of creation for men to discover and make use of, and, when discovered, they ought to have had the effect of turning men into worshippers of the One who created them, and making them ashamed of themselves that they had not discovered them before. Instead of which, men are puffed up with pride as though they had invented them themselves. And yet what an immeasurable gulf the ability to discover and make use of these laws puts between man and the beasts.

Whatever laws there may be in the physical universe, one thing is certain, the law of man’s relation to his Creator and God was disturbed by his disobedience in Eden. Then there entered into his being and his relations with God and with his fellows and with nature what had not been there before. “By one man sin entered into the world and death by sin; and death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned” (Rom. 5:1) “The law of sin and death” (Rom. 8) began then to exercise its inexorable power in the lives of men; they were affected by it spiritually, morally and physically. Tears, death, sorrow, crying and pain (Rev. 21:4), as well as enmity against God, and the curse which fell upon the whole earth, were the result of this invasion of man’s life by sin; these things affect him in this life, and “after this the judgment.” It was to this state of things that the Lord addressed Himself when He came into the world. The object of His coming was to deliver men from all oppression; to reveal what God is in His very nature; to restore the broken relationship with God, and to bring men back into full suitability to God, as the Scriptures declare, “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them” (2 Cor. 5:19). If miracles were a means to this end, which was God’s great purpose, what power could prevent them? This reconciling men to God was the greatest of all miracles.

It is against the intervention of God for the blessing of men that modernism opposes its subtle forces. And with this in view it must explain away the miracles. I give an instance of this. In a paper entitled “The Spirit of God and the Healing of Disease” appearing, regrettably enough, in an evangelical magazine, we are treated to the following: —

“It is recorded by St. Luke in Ch. 13. A woman came to the synagogue suffering from an infirmity or weakness. The complaint was of long standing eighteen years. Jesus described her as a daughter of Abraham whom Satan had bound. With our present knowledge we should say, ‘In the grip of a false idea, making weakness instead of health God’s will for her.’

The cure was not easy even for Jesus. When He saw her, He called her and said, ‘Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity.’ But she was not cured. Then Jesus evidently came down from the platform into the body of the synagogue where the woman was, and laid His hand upon her. In this way His vision of perfect health inspired her. His mighty faith overcame her timidity and she was healed.”

Passing over the obvious distortion of the Divinely-given record, which says nothing about the cure not being easy, nor the woman not being cured at the word of the Lord, nor His having to step down from the platform to accomplish it — to that which is worse, we must conclude, if we accept this author’s view, that we, with our present knowledge, know more than the Lord did about infirmity and disease, and that what He accomplished in the healing of the woman He did as a clever psychologist or Christian Scientist and not as the Sovereign Lord, “the Son of God, manifested that He might destroy the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8).

It is all of one piece with the general attack upon the glory and the person of our Lord, His infallibility and omniscience, and upon the character of His mission to men. It is worse than that. If the Lord wrought His miracles by suggestion, and by using powers that are available to any who care to exercise them and not by Divine power, He must have known this, and consequently He was a deceiver when He said, “the works that I do in My Father’s Name, they bear witness of Me” (John 10:25). “The Father that dwells in Me, He does the works … believe Me for the very works’ sake” (John 14:10-11).

All the Lord’s miracles were works of mercy, with the exception of the cursing of the fig tree, and some great significance lay behind that act. It was with the fig leaves that Adam and Eve endeavoured to clothe their nakedness after their disobedience and fall in Eden, and the Jews’ religion had degenerated into the effort to secure by ritual and works of the law a covering for their moral and spiritual nakedness, while remaining alienated from God and disobedient to Him. That whole system of the Jews’ religion that had no room for Christ and refused to yield to Him the glory that was His due, was condemned by God, as are all the efforts of men to cover their sin and obtain righteousness by works. We, who believe the Scriptures, know that the only covering for sin and the souls of sinners is atonement by blood. The word translated atonement in the Scriptures means, a covering. I suggest that the cursing of the fig tree was a symbolical act, teaching us these great and fundamental facts. The time and circumstances in which it was done seem to confirm this.

The beginning of His miracles was in Cana of Galilee, and by it He manifested His glory — “The people which sat in darkness saw a great light, and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death, light sprang up” — and His disciples believed on Him. It was a remarkable miracle, this turning the water into wine at the marriage feast. He had ordained the marriage tie at the beginning, and though it had become sadly marred by sin, He hallowed it by His presence. They were not great or rich, this couple who called Jesus to their marriage; indeed the fact that they had no wine would indicate that they were very poor; but Jesus was the Friend of the poor, as He is to this day, and He manifested His glory by caring for them in their need and raising the joy of their marriage day to a level they could not have known if He had not been there. “He provided a fit accompaniment, provided it of the best, and in such large measure as has alarmed and amazed the moralist. The quality and the greatness of the gift were worthy of God; and we see the generosity all the more clearly when we remember that this bountiful Creator had a little while before refused to create bread to relieve Himself of hunger.” (Nicholl.)

The glory that began to shine at Cana shed a greater brightness at the close of those eventful years, when His foes pressed about Him to arrest Him. Malchus, the servant of the high priest, would hold a commission from his master to go with Judas into the garden and lead the multitude that went out to capture the Lord. How astonished Peter must have been when he saw Judas step out of the crowd and put the traitor-kiss upon his Lord. He did not know how to deal with Judas, but he had no hesitation as to how to treat Malchus, when he, vaunting his temporary authority, laid hands upon the Lord, and in the name of the high priest directed the band to make Him prisoner. At such audacity Peter’s indignation flamed hotly, and drawing his sword, he aimed one mighty blow at the dastard, meaning to lay him dead at his feet, cleft through the skull.

It was new work for the fisherman, he had not been trained to wield a sword, and his misdirected energy only resulted in the loss of an ear to Malchus, and the exposure of his own impetuous folly, and, shall we add, his true love for his Master. But there was yet another result. The Lord had said, “I must work the works of Him that sent Me while it is day: the night comes when no man can work. As long as I am in the world I am the light of the world.” The gloom of night was gathering thickly upon the world, but He was still its light, and there was one more work of mercy that He must do before the devil and men had their way, a work not to be wrought upon a friend but upon a foe, who had come against Him with murder in his heart. Hence, with a word of gentle rebuke to Peter, He stretched forth His hand and touched the severed ear and healed it. Here was the miracle of all miracles, of good triumphing over evil, of Divine and infinite mercy pouring out itself upon men in the very height and venom of their sin.

“Wist ye not that I must be about My Father’s business” are the first words that are recorded as having come from His mouth in the Gospel of Luke, in which Gospel alone is the healing of the ear recorded. That business was blessing and not judgment; it was healing and not a sword. The audacity of Malchus and the impetuosity of Peter only served as an opportunity for the continued goodness that was in Him, and, having done that work, He submitted Himself to His foes, and they bound with cords His hands that had only been stretched out to bless, and led Him away to mockery and shame and crucifixion.

The works of the Lord were such as no other man did (John 15:24) and they left those who saw them without excuse. What wonderful works they were! but the way in which they were done was even more wonderful than the works. And how the hearts of those who were the subjects of them must have been moved by them, unless they remained dead in spite of them. Consider what the feelings of the leper must have been when the Lord, moved with compassion, stretched forth His hand and laid it upon him saying, “I will, be thou clean.” Could any other man have done that? If the leper had come near to Peter, he would have cried, “Keep away from me.” If he had approached to John, he would have said, “Away, don’t come near to me.” The leper’s touch would have contaminated any other man, but the hand and word of Jesus drove the foul disease away. What must have been the feelings of Jairus and his wife when the Lord took their dead daughter by the hand and said, “Maid, arise,” and showed, not His power only, but His consideration for the child when He commanded them to give her meat. Think of His care for the people who were faint by the way, when He provided them with such a meal as they had never had before, and that out of five loaves and two small fishes. Yet, though He created by His divine power, He would permit no waste. The fragments left over from that meal must be gathered up for another.

Stand by and behold Him when He said to the widowed woman, bereaved of her only son, “Weep not,” and then, turning to the dead son, said, “Young man, I say to thee, arise.” He might have claimed the life and service of the young man, and added, “Follow Me,” but He did not, He delivered him to his mother. What heart could have remained unmoved that saw His cheeks wet with tears as Mary of Bethany bowed down in her sorrow at His feet or remained unthrilled with a hitherto unfelt triumph when He cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth.” We can easily conceive the astonishment and excitement of the crowd when the dead man answered that loud command and came forth from his tomb but Jesus was not excited. His quiet word to those that stood by to loose him from the grave clothes and let him go, showed how calm He was, and how considerate for Lazarus in his strange circumstances. It is not easy to say whether the compassion of His heart or the power of His word, or His gentle consideration for His friend would command the greatest admiration on that great occasion.

While the people confessed, “He has done all things well,” the motive behind the works they did not understand. Even His brethren misjudged Him: they said to Him, “There is no man that does anything in secret, and he himself seeks to be known openly. If Thou do these things, show Thyself to the world.” They could not understand One who sought not His own glory and would not have the honour that comes from men, and who did the works only that they might believe that the Father had sent Him, for beyond the deliverance from their physical sufferings was the need of souls of the knowledge of God. Yet His glory could not be hid, it shone in the works that He did, for if they were the Father’s works, who could do these but the Son? His works bore witness to the fact that the Father had sent the Son to be the Saviour of the world. And because the world was such as it was, only the Father’s sent One could be its Saviour, and having come, He must of necessity work miracles in it, for God is love.

We might rightly have challenged His claim to have come from the Father if He had moved with apparent indifference amid the miseries of men, if He had left the leper to his corruption, the blind to his darkness, and the cripple to his weakness; if He had not been moved to compassion by the widow’s tears, if He had not wept with Mary, and smiled upon the children. But His words, “My Father works hitherto and I work” reveal the indissoluble oneness that existed in all things between the Father and the Son; and these works of mercy for the blessing of men were among these all things. They were the Father’s works.

His miracles all declared what the feelings of God were towards His creatures in their miseries, and though they were wrought in vain as far as the nation in which they were done was concerned, they abide for us in the record of them in the Holy Scriptures that we may read of them and meditate upon them and rejoice in that great salvation, “which first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed to us by them that heard Him; God also bearing them witness both by signs and wonders and divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost according to His own will” (Heb. 2).