Quote: The Rent Veil

The broken body and shed blood of the Lord had at length opened the sinner's way into the holiest. And these were the tokens not merely of grace, but of righteousness. That rending was no act either of mere power or of mere grace. Righteousness had done it. Righteousness had rolled away the stone. Righteousness had burst the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron. It was a righteous removal of the barrier; it was a righteous entrance that had been secured for the unrighteous; it was a righteous welcome for the chief of sinners that was now proclaimed.

Long had the blood of bulls and goats striven to rend the veil, but in vain. Long had they knocked at the awful gate, demanding entrance for the sinner; long had they striven to quench the flaming sword, and unclasp the fiery belt that girdled paradise; long had they demanded entrance for the sinner, but in vain. But now the better blood has come; it knocks but once, and the gate flies open; it but once touches the sword of fire, and it is quenched. Not a moment is lost. The fulness of the time has come. God delays not, but unbars the door at once. He throws open His mercy-seat to the sinner, and makes haste to receive the banished one; more glad even than the wanderer himself that the distance, and the exclusion, and the terror are at an end for ever.

O wondrous power of the cross of Christ! To exalt the low, and to abase the high; to cast down and to build up; to unlink and to link; to save and to destroy; to kill and to make alive; to shut out and to let in; to curse and to bless. O wondrous virtue of the saving cross, which saves in crucifying, and crucifies in saving! For four thousand years has paradise been closed, but Thou hast opened it. For ages and generations the presence of God has been denied to the sinner, but Thou hast given entrance,-- and that not timid, and uncertain, and costly, and hazardous; but bold, and blessed, and safe, and free. [...]

"May I then draw near as I am, in virtue of the efficacy of the sprinkled blood?" Most certainly. In what other way or character do you propose to come? And may I be bold at once? Most certainly. For if not at once, then when and how? Let boldness come when it may, it will come to you from the sight of the blood upon the floor and mercy-seat, and from nothing else. It is bold coming that honours the blood. It is bold coming that glorifies the love of God and the grace of His throne. "Come boldly!" this is the message to the sinner. Come boldly now! Come in the full assurance of faith, not supposing it possible that that God who has provided such a mercy-seat can do anything but welcome you; that such a mercy-seat can be anything to you but the place of pardon, or that the gospel out of which every sinner that has believed it has extracted peace, can contain anything but peace to you.

The rent veil is liberty of access. Will you linger still? The sprinkled blood is boldness,-- boldness for the sinner, for any sinner, for every sinner. Will you still hesitate, tampering and dallying with uncertainty and doubt, and an evil conscience? Oh, take that blood for what it is and gives, and go in. Take that rent veil for what it indicates, and go in. This only will make you a peaceful, happy, holy man. This only will enable you to work for God on earth, unfettered and unburdened; all over joyful, all over loving, and all over free. This will make your religion not that of one who has everything yet to settle between himself and God, and whose labours, and duties, and devotions are all undergone for the purpose of working out that momentous adjustment before life shall close, but the religion of one who, having at the very outset, and simply in believing, settled every question between himself and God over the blood of the Lamb, is serving the blessed One who has loved him and bought him, with all the undivided energy of his liberated and happy soul.

For every sinner, without exception, that veil has a voice, that blood a voice, that mercy-seat a voice. They say, "Come in." They say, "Be reconciled to God." They say, "Draw near." They say, "Seek the Lord while He may be found." To the wandering prodigal, the lover of pleasure, the drinker of earth's maddening cup, the dreamer of earth's vain dreams,--they say, there is bread enough in your Father's house, and love enough in your Father's heart, and to spare,--return, return. To each banished child of Adam, exiles from the paradise which their first father lost, these symbols, with united voice, proclaim the extinction of the fiery sword, the re- opening of the long-barred gate, with a free and abundant re-entrance, or rather, entrance into a more glorious paradise, a paradise that was never lost.*

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that He opened for us through the curtain, that is, through His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.**

*From Horatius Bonar's The Rent Veil
**Hebrews 10:19-23, ESV

A Sketch of a Woman, Guilty and at Peace

    The lurid eyes of death always a picture in my mind, I felt a burning weight upon my chest, felt as though I were drowning, panicking, suffocating, and there was none to help, none to help.  Over and over again, I turned the pages of my life, searching frenziedly, reading between the lines even, for a reason as to why I was so cursed.  Was I not cursed?  Is that not what they would all say?  Perhaps this is why I felt so deserted; I expected no one to help me now.  Sinners did not merit care, and, without anyone to care for me, I knew that was how the town viewed me.  And in the deepest parts of me I knew. My fiery guilt is true, as real as the cold, stagnant body of my son.
    My dear, only son’s body was hoisted upon the bier and carried by a few men through the town for the procession.  The wailing of the crowd, considerable in size, was intense enough to give anyone nightmares.  Perhaps the women considered their own sons.  To add to the torture was the haunting memory of another funeral procession which seemed not very long ago in my mind, and I wailed.  More grieved than any, my wails stood alone.  Shock had not comforted me much, so at least I had a chance to express the ache already in my heart, released many a times since the day before in a groan here, a sob there.  The hours of worry released themselves also in my howls.  Where would I find food?  Shelter?  How long could I make it on our last loaf of bread?  My last loaf of bread.
    As we reached the gate to carry him out, from the head of the crowd I spotted another crowd coming toward us, a great crowd, and did not take much note of them.  However, for some reason, the other crowd stopped- I believe because their leader stopped- and the head of it looked at me, His face flushed from His journey, unattractive, beside the zest of life in His eyes, eyes that rested on me.  Turning my sallow face toward him, my eyes- I’m sure of stinging, pathetic, wild grief- met His eyes, compassion welling up in them, passionate compassion, almost fierce, that lively sparkle in His eye- or His look or whatever it was- ever present.  I note this all only looking back; when I first saw Him, I cannot I noted anything at all inhumane about this man. 
    Then He spoke.  “Do not weep."  His voice…it was excited, tense, gentle, magnanimous in its feeling, as if compassion spewed irresistibly the words from the depths of Him.  Queerly, then he walked up toward the bier, the men holding it standing still, and touched it. “Young man, I say to you, arise,” He said, confidence in His voice.  The Prince of Life collides with Death and Sin and wins. 
    My dead boy sat up and began to speak!  And the man gave him to me.  Relief swept over me like a refreshing sea breeze at noon, but wonder, fear, seized me even more, along with the rest of the crowd.  “A great prophet has arisen among us!”  “God has visited His people!”  God has visited His people, and peace has visited the earth among those with whom He is pleased.*  In a moment of desperate need, when all is lost for me and to me, He comes, merely passing by my town in His journey, with no reason to stop here but compassion, unasked for by me or any other as far as I know, unnecessary on His part, Life and Mercy dripping from Him, meeting me, guilty and helpless me, drawing near to me with Joy in His wake.  And peace flows like a river through my sin-scorched veins.**

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.***

*Luke 2:14, ESV
**Isaiah 66:12, ESV
***Romans 5:1, ESV

Dialogue and story from Luke 7:11-17