THERE are many talkers, profane talkers, indecent talkers, foolish talkers, vain talkers ; and there are some who are wise and good talkers, their lips are as a well---spring of life. But He was perfectly wise and good. Oh, to have heard him "talk!" The term is applied to his more public teaching: "While he yet talked to the people." And had some of his ministers spoken more in a familiar and conversational mode, they would have resembled him more, and the poor would have had the gospel preached unto them, and the common people would have heard them gladly, and the children in the temple would have cried Hosanna.
It is here intimated that he had talked "much" with them. He was never reserved. If he kept back any thing from them, it was because at the time they could not bear it. He treated them not as servants, but as friends, for all things that he had heard of the Father he made known unto them. He always instructed and reproved and encouraged them as the occasion required. He seized every opportunity for religious discourse, and levied a tax of spiritual profit upon every natural object and every providential occurrence that presented itself. He could not see a sower going forth to sow, or a fisherman drawing his net ashore, or a woman drawing water, but he derived from it a parable or an illustration---teaching his followers to be social and communicative in divine things, and, for this purpose, to cultivate their understanding, and to be filled with the Spirit. For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. How can much religious discourse be expected from those who have so little of the life of God in them? If, for the sake of consistency, they sometimes make the attempt, it must be a task, and they will soon drop into what is more natural to them, a conversation empty as the wind, and barren as the sand.
But "hereafter" he would not talk much with them---not from disinclination, but for want of intercourse. Their opportunities would soon be over, for he was going to leave them. With regard also to us, it is probable as to some, and certain as to others, that we have heard and read much more than we ever shall read or hear in future. Yet a little while is the light with us.
The way in which he refers to his removal from them, by his suffering and death, is remarkable : "For the prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me."
He marks, first, the character of his adversary, the prince of this world. He is not so by right, but usurpation, and by God's allowing him power over those who provoke him. When the traitor had received the sop, Satan entered into him. He was in him before, but his agency was under restraints. These restraints were then all taken away, and the devil had his victim entirely to himself. Israel would have none of him, so he gave them up to their own hearts' lust. All who walk according to the course of this world, walk according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience. They may imagine themselves to be free, and many of them make a figure in the eye of sense, but faith sees them taken captive by the devil at his will, and held in the vilest subjection ; he is their prince, yea, according to the apostle, he is the god of this world, and, in reality, they not only obey, but worship him.
Secondly, he sees his approach : "He cometh." Not personally---so he had come to him in the wilderness, and been foiled---but in his instruments: in Judas, that betrayed him ; in Peter, that denied him; in his disciples, that forsook him and fled ; in Herod, that threatened him ; in Pilate, that condemned him ; in the Jews, that clamored for his blood ; and in the Romans, that shed it. "One of you," says our Lord, "is a devil ;" he gives him the name, because he bore his image, and did his work. "The devil," we read, "shall cast some of you into prison." Is the devil a justice of the peace? 'No ; but if he acts unrighteously and cruelly, the justice of the peace is the devil. The devil is not Voltaire, but, by poisoning and destroying the souls of men, Voltaire is the devil, who was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth.
Thirdly, he is confident of the result of the conflict: "And hath nothing in me." He has enough in us. First, enough of guilt. Hence he can alarm and dismay us. In the conscience of some he produces such terror and anguish, that the man chooses strangling and death rather than life. He is also the accuser of the brethren ; and in their sins, and the sins even of their holy things, he finds enough against them to perplex and distress them in their afflictions, and in their approaches to God. But he could find no guilt in Jesus, and therefore he could stir up no feeling of self---remorse or despair. Secondly, enough of corruption. Hence he can easily draw us aside by laying hold of our envy, pride, avarice, impatience. Owing to the remains of unmortified passions, or, as the apostle calls it, the sin that dwelleth in us, we are always in danger from outward things. We may be ensnared by our dress, our table, our business, and our friends ; what is innocent and good in itself may become to us injurious and evil. Here the sparks fall upon tinder. But there was nothing inflammable in him, and therefore no unhallowed fire could be kindled. He was the Holy One of God. "He did no sin," and " in him was no sin."
A proof that if he was stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted, he was wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed.
We also see that there must be a great difference between him and ourselves as to moral danger. He was safe everywhere, and in all circumstances. We must "watch and pray, lest we enter into temptation." " The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."
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