THE WORLD'S SIN BEARER
Dr. W. A. Criswell
John 1:29
8-10-86 10:50 a.m.
This is the Pastor of the First Baptist Church in Dallas. And in keeping
with our series, preaching through the Gospel of John, we are in the first
chapter, beginning at verse 29. And we want you to take your Bible and open
it and read out loud together—verses 29 through 34. Chapter 1, verses 29 to
34. The text is, “Behold the Lamb of God which taken away the sin of the
world.” And the title of the message is The World’s Sin Bearer.
Now, do you have it? The first chapter of John, verses 29 through 34.
Now, in the presence of the Lord, may we stand together? And let's all
read God's Word out loud, beginning in verse 29 through verse 34, together:
The next day John seeth
Jesus coming unto him, and saith,
Behold, the Lamb of God,
which taken away the sin of the world.
This is He of whom I said,
After me cometh a man which is preferred before me; for He was before me.
And I knew Him not; but
that He should be made manifest to Israel, therefore am I come baptizing with
water.
And John bare record,
saying, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon Him,
And I knew Him not; but He
that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon Whom thou shalt
see the Spirit descending, and remaining on Him, the same is He which baptizeth
with the Holy Ghost.
And I saw, and bare record
that this is the Son of God.
Amen! We may be seated.
And the text, “Behold the
Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” John was sent from
heaven, a man to say one sentence. Had you been that someone ordained of
God, what sentence would you have said? Could it be, “Behold a Man that
can raise the dead?” How infinitely comforting would that be to the
uncounted millions who weep over the loss of their loved ones, “This Man can
raise the dead.”
Would you have said, “Behold, a man who can heal the sick?” Think of the
suffering, and the cripples, and the hurting of this world, “This is a man who
can heal the sick.”
Would you have said, “This is a man who can feed the five thousand with just a
little bread and a few little fish?” Think of the starving millions of
the world, “This is a man who can heal and feed the famine-strickened areas of
the earth!”
Would you have said, “This is a man who can still the winds and walk on the
water?” He can control all the forces of nature. Think of the hurt
that comes from the drought, and the tornadoes, and the floods; and this is the
man that can control all the powers of nature.
Would you have said, “Behold, a man who has in His command twelve legions of
angels?” One angel destroyed 185,000 of the Assyrian troops of
Sennacherib. And this man has in His command 72,000 such angels. No need
for armaments or for armies, this one man can defend the nation. Think of
a man like that. But
instead of any of those, John lifted up his voice and said, “Behold the Lamb of
God that taketh away the sin of the world.” He saw the heart problem and the
need of all humanity: the sin of the world.
I remember reading in the
life of David Livingstone, having observed for years the indescribable hurt and
drama of the slave trade in Africa; just before he died he cried, saying, “May
heaven's blessings rest upon any man—be he American, Englishman, or Turk—who
will help to heal this open sore of the world.” It is such with sin in human
life. Sin is the curse of the whole universe.
There are darkened suns,
and dead stars, and blasted planets, and black holes; and the earth on which we
live is scorched and damned with deserts and ice. The whole universe is
fallen, all of it. All nature is under the curse of sin, all of it. The flora,
the beautiful flowers, wilt, shrivel and die. The fauna—these beautiful animals
that fly and run—are yet dying. And the fields of the earth don't yield
their increase; subject to flood, and drought, and failure. The whole
earth is cursed.
And the greatest hurt of
all: the injury and the wrong done to those who are wholly innocent. I
think of the beginning: Abel—what did Abel do except love God and worship the
Lord? But his brother Cain, in jealousy slew him. And it was his
brother's blood that cried unto God from the ground. Sin! I think of Uriah
the Hittite, a devoted soldier of the king, a great champion of the armies of
God. And David says to Joab, captain of the hosts, “Place him next to the
wall, then withdraw the army from him and let him die.” What tragedy: the
curse of sin! Or even John the Baptist himself—his head brought on a charger, on
a platter, to Herodias the queen—the victim of the dancing of a desolate
girl. The curse of sin! Nor did anyone of us escape it. We belong
to a fallen family. It is congenital, we are born into it. David cried in
that penitential fifty-first Psalm, “In sin did my mother conceive me and I was
shapened in iniquity.” Those unseen hands that formed me, formed me
fallen.
I was amazed at an article I read in the United States News and World
Report. It is quoting the Superior Court Judge William G. Long of
Seattle, Washington. And that illustrious judge wrote, said in a verdict,
these words. He is quoting from the Minnesota Crime Commission. I
could not believe my eyes as I read this assessment of humanity:
What we call delinquent
behavior is as old and universal as man. It is not something to which
only an evil or moronic segment of humanity, different from the rest of us, is
liable. It must be remembered that no infant is born a finished
product. On the contrary, every baby starts life as a little savage; is
equipped, among other things, with organs and muscles over which he has no
control, with an urge for self-preservation, with aggressive drives and
emotions like anger, fear and love, over which, likewise, he has no control. He
is completely selfish and self-centered. He wants what he wants when he
wants it—his bottle, his mother's attention, his playmate's toy, his uncle's
watch—and deny him those wants, and he seethes with rage and aggression, which
would be murderous, were he not so helpless. He is dirty. He has no
morals, no knowledge, no skills. What this means, of course, is that all
children, not just certain children, are born delinquent. And, if
permitted to continue in the self-centered world of his infancy, given free
reign to his impulsive actions to satisfy his wants, every child would grow up
a criminal, a thief, a killer, a rapist. And in the process of growing up, it
is normal for every child to be dirty, to fight, to grab, to steal, to tear
things apart, to talk back, to disobey, to evade. Every child has to grow out
of delinquent behavior
I never read anything like
that before in my life. And I never read anything that is more certainly
true. We are born delinquents. We are born into a fallen family and we
belong to a sinful race.
I so well remember Dr. Lee
R. Scarborough, who was president of Southwestern Seminary, who was a wonderful
evangelist. I remember his describing a child who came forward in the
revival meeting, a little boy. And Dr. Scarborough sat down by the side
of the lad, to guide him into the faith and the savior-hood of the Lord Jesus.
And when he sat down by the lad, a Sunday School teacher sat down by him on the
other side. So Dr. Scarborough said, he began talking to the boy and
said, “Son, do you realize, do you realize you are a sinner, that you're lost
and that you face the damnation of God and the judgment of hell? Do you
realize that?”
And the Sunday school
teacher broke in and said, “Dr. Scarborough, this is the best boy in my Sunday
School class; you don't realize it.” Paying no attention to her, the great
preacher started again with the lad: “Do you realize that you are lost, that
you face the judgment of God and the damnation of hell? Do you realize
that you need a Savior?”
And the Sunday school
teacher broke in again and said, “Dr. Scarborough, you're a stranger here and
you do not know our church, and you do not know the family, this boy belongs to
one of the finest families in our church and one of the best boys in my Sunday
school class.” Dr. Scarborough said he stood up and asked the boy to move on
the other side, so that he sat between the boy and the teacher. Then, he
started again with the lad, “Son, do you realize—do you realize that you're
lost, that you're a sinner, that you face the judgment of God? Do you
realize that? Does the conviction of the Holy Spirit make you realize
that you are a sinner and lost, and face death and judgment? Do you?” And
in no time, the preacher said, he had the boy into the kingdom. That's
where redemption begins, it starts in our lostness.
I am a lost sinner. I face inevitable death. I shall stand before
God to be judged one of these days, and then, what shall become of me?
Who stands by me? Who is my counselor and friend? What shall I do with my
sins and transgressions? I was born into them. I have been guilty
of them, I cannot deny them. Somehow all of the misery, and tears, and
heartbrokenness, and trauma of life is due to our sin—all of it. You can
add sin to anything, anything. However beautiful, or precious, or dear, add
sin to it and it will spell tragedy. The sweetest thing in this world, love—add
sin to it and it becomes lust, pornography, prostitution. The sweetest thing,
the sweetest experience in human life—add sin to it and it becomes darkened and
sordid. A home, beautiful home, precious home—add sin to it and it's
filled with jealousy, and confrontation, and emulation, and bitterness.
Money which can be used so
gloriously for the kingdom of God; Dr. McLaughlin, we started 200 churches last
year through our gifts of money—add sin to it and it becomes greed, murderous,
murder-for-hire, sin. Add it to anything; a gun plus sin; a movie plus sin; and
they become salacious. TV plus sin, a book—poetry plus sin, anything.
Sin damns. Sin brings to the human heart, and to the human family, and to
the human life, all of the tears, and misery, and sorrow, that we know in this
existence: the sin of the world. Where is there healing and where is there
deliverance? Who can save us out of it?
There is a great Christian
hymn: “What Can Wash Away My Sin?” Do you remember that traumatic scene
in Macbeth—in Shakespeare’s Macbeth? He has just stabbed to
death; he's just murdered Duncan, king of Scotland who is a guest in his home.
And the man looks at the blood of the king on his hand and he cries, “Can all
Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No. Rather this,
my hand, will the multitudinous seas incarnating making the green one red.”
All of our sins are like that. What can wash away my sins? Who can
make me clean and whole again? Who can? The world addresses itself to
that question; inevitably so, inescapably so. But the world addresses itself to
the pimples on the skin, when the problem is the bloodstream in the heart. Take
the gun away from the murderer, and in his heart, he is a murderer still.
Take the bottle away from the drunkard, and in his heart, he's a drunkard
still. Take the needle away from the addict, and in his heart, he's an
addict still. Take the paramour away from the harlot, and in her heart,
she's a harlot still. Who can change the bent of the soul, the turn of human
life, the fallen-ness of our nature? Who can?
In addressing that tragic
problem in human life, society builds jails, and penitentiaries, and reform
schools. If you read the papers at all, you’re conscious that the
legislature of Texas is battling day and night with the problem of how to build
bigger penitentiaries, and more jails, and hire more guards. All they do
is to create schools for more hardened criminals as though the jail or the
penitentiary would change human hearts and human lives. A confrontation of
humanity with the sin of the world from the beginning has been moral teaching,
philosophies; they are as old as the human race.
There is not a boy that
goes to school who is not introduced to the Code of Hammurabi, thousands and
thousands of years ago. And the whole world knows the 10 Commandments of
Moses. And what could we say of the great moral teaching of Plato, or of
the Neo-Platonists, or of the moral aphorisms of Seneca in Rome, or Marcus
Aurelius, or the thousands of teachers who have lived since—as though moral teaching
and philosophy could change our human hearts.
On this platform is seated the illustrious and gifted president of our Dallas
Baptist University. Don't you wish that we could solve the sin of the
world by sending our young people to the universities, and they would be
graduated pure, and holy, and righteous? Don't you wish that life could
be changed by instruction and by teaching? A bum walking down a rip track tears
into a freight car to steal a can of tomatoes because he's hungry. Take
that same bum and send him to Harvard University and he'll steal the entire
railway system and get away with it.
If you have read or been sensitive to these recent decades, there never has
been a nation or a people that were as literate and as learned as the Third
Reich, Germany. Their great universities were the central point of
research, and teaching, and intellectual progress in the whole world. At the
same time, there has never been a nation as cruel, and blood-thirsty, and
amoral as the Third Reich, slaying more than 18,000,000 men. Would to God
all we needed was just to educate the darkness of wrong and transgression out
of us!
That is the pertinency of
this wonderful announcement of John the Baptist: “Look, this is the sin-bearer
of the world to take away the sin of the world!” As Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians
5:17: “If anyone be in Christ, he is a new creation. Old things are past
away. Behold, all things are become new.” It's a new day; it's a
new life. It's a new hope, it's a new heaven; everything is new in Him. It's
a new home, it's a new house. It's a new child, it's a new husband, it's
a new father—it's a new family—it's new! God has started all over
again and created it anew, “That's Jesus who bears away the sin of the world.”
Sweet people, did you ever
consider this? John could have said, “Behold the Lion of the tribe of
Judah!” Isn't that His name? “Behold the Lion of the tribe of Judah
who devours the sinners of the world!” He could have said that, but our Lord
Christ does not consume the sinners, He takes away the sin. He does not
damn the offenders, He removes the offense. That's the gospel of
redemption: “God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself, and hath
committed unto us this message, this glorious gospel of reconciliation.
We then, as ambassadors for Christ, plead that you be reconciled to God—for He
is reconciled to us. Our Lord took our penalty; He carried our sins. He
paid the price of our judgment. All that should have fallen on me fell upon
Him. And the damnation, and the hell, and the condemnation that is due me
fell upon Him. He took it willingly, in love and mercy. He died in
my stead.
I've often thought the man who would have the clearest idea of the
substitutionary, atoning death of Jesus Christ is Barabbas, who was supposed to
have been crucified on that center cross. And, as he stood there and
looked at Jesus on Calvary—that's where he should have been—instead, the Lord
was there in his stead. I have often wondered, “What has become—what did become
of Barabbas?” Nothing is ever said about him. But, oh! What that
man saw when he looked at Jesus, crucified on that center cross! But, Barabbas
is no different from me; he was a lost man, a sinner man. I am a lost man
and a sinner man. I face that judgment of death, inevitable. I face that
awesome hour of judgment and confrontation. And what shall I do? What
shall I say? Where is my friend and counselor? Who is my substitute
and savior? I have none other than the Lord Jesus. But, oh! The
loving compassionate grace of our living Lord.
Did you ever think about it that? When He returned back to heaven, when He
entered paradise, He entered arm and arm with that dying thief. Ever
think about that? Having come down from glory to teach us the way to God, when
He had finished His mission and returned back to heaven—when He entered that
golden gate in the presence of the saints and the angels of heaven, He entered
arm in arm with a great king? With a beautiful queen? With the elite of the
world? When he entered in that golden gate, he entered in arm in arm with a
dying thief! Oh, the mercy, and the grace, and the love of Jesus our
Lord!
I must close. One
time, in a revival meeting far, far away from our city of Dallas, a man in
Mississippi called me on the telephone--never heard of him—to this day don't
know him. But he called me on the telephone from Mississippi and he said:
I am the spokesman and the
voice of a young mother and wife here in our town, and in our church. She
and her husband lived in Dallas. He was an electrical engineer. And
while they were living in Dallas,” this man is explaining to me on the
telephone, “while they were living this Dallas, you won her husband to the Lord
in your study at the church, and you baptized him there in the fellowship of
that congregation. In the providence of life they were sent to
Mississippi. And here in our town, in an electrical installation, he
died. He was electrocuted. And this dear wife and mother just asked me if
I would not call you and tell you the everlasting gratitude of her heart: that
you won her husband to the Lord Jesus, and that he is in heaven, awaiting the
day of her coming.
Did you ever think that anything could be sweeter than that kindness? “She just
wanted me to tell you her gratitude for winning hear husband to the Lord Jesus.”
Well, what the repercussion in my heart was: could there be a greater privilege
in human life than to stand some place—any place—and point to Jesus as the
Savior of our souls? This is He who takes away the sin of our lives. This
is He who opens for us, the door into heaven. This is our Lord; this is
our loving Friend and Redeemer! Just to stand and point to Him in a Sunday
school class, on a platform, in a song service, walking down the street; to say
a word to a stranger seated down in a home, talking to a business associate. What
a glorious, glorious and incomparable privilege just to point to the Lord
Jesus, just to say a word of love and gratitude to Him—most marvelous thing in
the world!
I don't have time even to recount the endlessnesses of those glorious moments,
when these that I have won to the Lord say a word of gratitude and
encouragement to me. There is not any open door God hath set before us
that is so dear and so precious as the privilege to say something dear about
Jesus to your child, to your husband, to your wife, to your friends, to your
business associates, even to a casual acquaintance. “This is the hope and the
Savior of the world.” And that is our invitation and encouragement to you
this morning hour.
“Pastor, today I'd like to
open my heart to the Lord Jesus, that He come into my heart; that He come into
my house, that He be a guest in my home,” to bring your family into the
fellowship of this wonderful church, to answer a call of the Spirit in your
heart. What a precious thing God has given to us, this freedom to choose God,
to walk with Him, to live with Him, to die in His grace, and to live forever and
forever in the company of His angels and His redeemed people. O God! Without
loss of one, that we might find ourselves in His kingdom. May we pray now?
Then we’ll sing our song of appeal.
Our Lord in heaven, how
could I ever thank Thee enough for those who years ago pointed me to the
Savior? That preacher who stayed in our home and talked to me every night
about Jesus, my sainted mother who invited me to give my heart to the Lord—all
of those dear people who prayed, encouraged. O God! I could never thank Thee
enough for them. And I just humbly ask, Lord, that You will bless our witness
and our testimony in this, our day, when we point others to Jesus, the Lamb of
God. May the Spirit also open the heart of the one to whom we are speaking.
And may Jesus be real to the heart, and home, and family, and father, and
mother, and children of these who so desperately need Jesus; and that includes
us all. Open the door for us, Lord. May Thy Spirit affirm the truth of the
message today and give us a gracious harvest. Humbly we ask, in Thy saving
name, Amen.
In this moment that we
stand and sing our song of appeal, from the balcony round, down one of these
stairways, on the lower floor, these dear people, into the aisle and down to
the font, “Pastor, I’ve made that decision and here I come.” While we stand
and while we sing, “This is God’s day for me, and I’m coming.”