By Lewis Sperry Chafer
The Savior
A. The Person of the Savior
V. The Sufferings of Christ
2. Sufferings in Death
The centrality of the cross has been acknowledged by all devout minds from its day to the present hour. The unregenerate see in it little more than a “stumblingblock”—which it is to the Jew—, and “foolishness”—which it is to the Gentile; but to those who are the called, both Jews and Gentiles, it is “the power of God”—since by it God’s saving power is released—, and “the wisdom of God”—since by it the greatest problem is solved which ever confronted God, namely, how God can remain just and yet justify the ungodly who do no more than to believe in Jesus (1 Cor 1:23, 24; Rom 3:26; 4:5). When it is asserted that the cross is to the Gentile foolishness, it is not implied that they are ridiculing it, but rather it is indicated that the interpretations they give to Christ’s death are foolish in that those interpretations are not worthy of the Son of God; and such is every interpretation save the one assigned in the Word of God, which is that of a blood-sacrifice for sin offered by a substitute who dies in the room and stead of sinners. To the Apostle Paul, the cross became the supreme theme of his boasting. He said, “But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world” (Gal 6:14).
In the opening paragraph of his book The Atonement and the Modern Mind, Dr. James Denney asserts: “It will be admitted by most Christians that if the Atonement, quite apart from precise definitions of it, is anything to the mind, it is everything. It is the most profound of all truths, and the most recreative. It determines more than anything else our conceptions of God, of man, of history, and even of nature; it determines them, for we must bring them all in some way into accord with it. It is the inspiration of all thought, the impulse and the law of all action, the key, in the last resort, to all suffering. Whether we call it a fact or a truth, a power or a doctrine, it is that in which the differentia of Christianity, its peculiar and exclusive character, is specifically shown; it is the focus of revelation, the point at which we see deepest into the truth of God, and come most completely under its power. For those who recognize it at all it is Christianity in brief; it concentrates in itself, as in a germ of infinite potency, all that the wisdom, power and love of God mean in relation to sinful men.” A like emphasis was given by the great Calvinistic theologian, Francis Turretin (1623–1687), when he estimated thus the importance of that death: “The chief part of our salvation, the anchor of Faith, the refuge of Hope, the rule of Charity, the true foundation of the Christian religion, and the richest treasure of the Christian Church. So long as this doctrine is maintained in its integrity, Christianity itself and the peace and blessedness of all who believe in Christ are beyond the reach of danger; but if it is rejected, or in any way impaired, the whole structure of the Christian faith must sink into decay and ruin.”[1] Not only does the theme of Christ’s sufferings and death exceed all others, as these witnesses testify, and not only is it central in Biblical truth, but it is eternal as to both its past—Christ a slain Lamb before the foundation of the world (Rev 13:8)—, and eternal as to its future, being as it is the theme of coming glory, “And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth. And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands; saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing” (Rev 5:9–12).
In approaching the theme of Christ’s suffering and death, certain truths of general import about which there has been much misunderstanding, should be considered.
a. The contrast between the crucifixion and the cross
There is the distinction to be drawn between the crucifixion—the greatest of all crimes—, and the cross—contemplated as the sign of God’s redeeming grace: that which Dr. Dale describes as “the sublimest moment in the moral history of God.” Could a greater contrast be conceived? It is possible to think of the death-sufferings of Christ only as that which originated with men and was executed by men. Such a restricted conception may result in strange reasoning. In his treatise, The Meaning and Message of the Cross, Dr. Henry C. Mable cites the following statement illustrating this impression, “In the correspondence column of Rev. R. J. Campbell of London in The British Weekly, an enquirer recently put this question: ‘I have a Bible class, some of the members of which are fine, thoughtful, young fellows. We are studying the life of Christ, and will shortly reach the crucifixion. How can I make clear, that the act of crucifying Christ was a crime, while at the same time it is the hope on which the Christian builds?’ And Mr. Campbell, before proceeding to answer, remarks: ‘This difficulty occurs far more generally than I should have thought.’ Lord Beaconsfield is said once to have caricatured the Atonement in the following terms: ‘If the Jews had not prevailed upon the Romans to crucify our Lord, what would have become of the Atonement? The immolators were preordained like the victim; and the holy race supplied both. Could that be a crime which secured for all mankind, eternal joy?’ A leading Unitarian minister in New York City, in a sermon preached in his own church a few years since, touching this subject, used these words: ‘What does atonement mean to the world? It means that the Eternal Father either will not, or cannot receive back to His heart His own erring, mistaken, wandering children, unless the only begotten Son of God is slaughtered, and we, as the old, awful hymn has it, “are plunged beneath this ocean of blood.”’ A supposedly evangelical American minister in his recoil from certain misconceptions of evangelicalism against which he was protesting, once went so far as to say,—’Strictly speaking, the death of Christ was not necessary to human salvation…He was not a suicide; He was murdered. To say that His death was an indispensable condition to human salvation is to say that God’s grace had to call in the aid of murderers in order that it might find a way to human hearts. I am not willing to acknowledge any indebtedness to Judas Iscariot for the forgiveness of my sins.’“[2]
It would seem probable that the Satan-imposed blindness of the unregenerate respecting the gospel (2 Cor 4:3, 4), and the illumination which the regenerate receive, center at this very crucial point as to the meaning of Christ’s death. In the one instance, men see only a brutal murder, and since the victim was innocent—a lovable, admirable character—, there is a field for meditation on certain lessons which may be drawn from that tragic death. By so much and with sincerity the cross is made foolishness. In the other instance, the regenerate by illumination granted them are able to see in the cross the whole scope and plan of redeeming grace. It is declared—and how many passages might be cited!—that Christ was “set forth” (which is evidently a reference to His position as a victim on the cross) to declare the righteousness of God, that “He might be just and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus” (Rom 3:26).
Since the sufferings and death of Christ are central in all revealed truth and since these may be estimated so differently—on the one hand as the major crime, and on the other hand, as “the supreme moment in the moral history of God”—His sufferings and death demand a careful and prayerful consideration above all the facts of the universe. Probably no writer has more faithfully set up this great contrast with all it involves than Dr. Henry C. Mabie. Though somewhat extended, the following quotation from his book, The Meaning and Message of the Cross, is a contribution needed at this point in the discussion: “In this study I start then by pointing out that the tragedy of Christ’s crucifixion in its awful criminality, and the cross of the divine reconciliation in its unique moral majesty, are in character wholly distinct. The crucifixion on the human side was incipient in the sin of the race; and the reconciliation on the divine side, since God is what He is in His long-suffering holiness, was ever eternally in the heart of God waiting to be enacted. It is true that in those last hours upon the cross, the deep, spiritual work of the reconciliation was being consummated simultaneously with the crime which Christ’s crucifers were perpetrating upon Him; in spirit, however, and in moral character, the two enactments were at the farthest possible remove from each other…. A concrete picture drawn from the New Testament account of the crucifixion may make clearer the distinction treated in this chapter. In observing the record of the execution of Jesus, a careful reader will notice the varied mental attitudes of the several types of people who stood before the cross. There are at least five classes of people whose attitudes were fundamentally the same; the common crowd, that ‘passed by wagging their heads’; the Jewish rulers who had connived at the crucifixion; the railing malefactor who rejected Christ; the Roman soldiers, who knew no king but Caesar; and the half-superstitious beholders, who in the cry of ‘Eli, Eli,’ supposed Jesus to be calling for Elias. Each of these five classes appealed alike to Christ to demonstrate that He was really the Messiah, by coming down from the cross and saving His life. The crowd said, ‘Ha, Thou that destroyest the temple and buildest it in three days, save thyself and come down from the cross’ (Mark 15:29). The rulers said, ‘He saved others, himself he cannot save; let the Christ, the King of Israel, now come down from the cross, that we may see and believe’ (Luke 23:39). The malefactor ,said, ‘Art not thou the Christ? Save thyself and us’ (Mark 15:31, 32). The soldiers said, ‘If thou art the king of the Jews, save thyself’ (Luke 23:37). The superstitious said, ‘Let be; let us see whether Elijah cometh to take him down’ (Mark 15:36). Each of these, observe, in effect said to Jesus, Save Thyself. These all saw chiefly the tragedy of the crucifixion, they supposed the cross in that sense to be finality in the life of Jesus. Unless Jesus should use His miraculous power to take Himself off the scaffold,—supernaturally keep Himself alive,—they would have no faith in Him’; the demonstration to their minds would be complete that He was not what He claimed to be, the Son of God, the Messiah of Israel, the Saviour of the world. Now, over against these five classes, there is a single shining exception, of one whose position radically differed from that of these types just noted, and he expresses himself differently: The dying penitent was the first and only one among all that spoke out at the execution of Jesus, who did not say, Save Thyself. He did cry, Save me. And he said ‘Jesus’; that is, he used the saving name, with discernment of who and what He really was. He and he alone saw there was something deeper transpiring than the crucifers recognized; that Jesus really was allowing the sanctuary of His body to be taken down, in order that it might be rebuilt. He discerned that if Jesus would save others from the spiritual necessities of the case, He could not ‘save Himself’; He must endure what sin would impose on Saviourhood; he saw that Jesus really was ‘the King of Israel,’ ‘the chosen of God,’ ‘the good shepherd’ laying down His life for the sheep, so laying it down that He ‘might take it again.’ This penitent was the first and only one at the crucifixion that saw a whole new kingdom lying beyond the impending death of Jesus, of which he might become a member. That kingdom, however, was to be built upon the divine side of what was going on. He saw at least in principle the coming resurrection, and the glorious possibilities involved in it…. Doubtless he was spiritually, preternaturally endued with the insight of one on the borderland of the celestial world; and thus saw both sides of the crucifixion event, the basely human and the nobly divine. But he especially saw with great vividness the reality of the reconciliation, saw it from the heaven-side, as God sees it—as we all should learn to see it;—and he exclaimed in that model prayer, marked with its peculiar illumination, ‘Jesus, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom’ (Luke 23:42);—a kingdom conditioned on what was now being borne by Christ. This man and this one only, so far as we know, of all that stood about the Christ on Calvary, apprehended the reconciliation, God’s act,—an act as both deliberate and permissive,—the reconciliation as distinguished from man’s criminality in the crucifixion. There was probably not a disciple that stood there, not one of the women, not even the Saviour’s own mother Mary, that would not, if possible, in their sheer inability to perceive what God was achieving, have prevented the completion of Christ’s purpose on the cross. As yet, none of these disciples understood as they did afterwards in the light of Pentecost—the cross of the redemption. This dying man so unfortunately stigmatized in the common epithet, as ‘the dying thief,’ is really the ideal penitent. He, and he only, had the vision of the cross of reconciliation. He alone looked beyond the tragic horrors of the crucifying deed. He was absorbed with the larger reality, that Christ, despite man’s treatment of Him, was really bearing away the sin of the world, preparatory to a spiritual kingdom which lay beyond the climacteric of His dying hour. The penitent sought membership in that kingdom, a privilege of grace instantly assured by the reply of Jesus, ‘Verily I say unto thee, today shalt thou be with me in Paradise’ (Luke 23:43).”[3]
As before intimated, the unenlightened, unregenerate people can discern nothing in Christ’s death beyond the human tragedy that it was, and in vain do they with sincerity attempt to invest it with some spiritual significance. It is dramatized, crucifixes are multiplied, pictures are painted, preachers and poets dwell upon the physical aspects of that death and, too often, discover nothing beyond the bodily anguish which was His. However, none has wrought more confusion than has the Church of Rome by its asserted transubstantiation and the approach to idolatry which her use of images provides. Rome is the supreme example of a religion based on the crime of the crucifixion, which, at the same time, is void of any conception of the glory of the cross. There was a tragedy in the crucifixion which none should minimize; but it is not the ground of redemption. God is not basing His immeasurable love-gift on the supreme crime of all crimes. He bases it upon the sublime truth that He so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son to be His own, provided sacrificial Lamb. Christ was God’s Lamb—not Pilate’s. God provided the redeeming blood—not Caiaphas.
As is to be expected, there is no point in human history where the divine sovereignty and human responsibility, or free will, come into more vivid juxtaposition than they do in the crucifixion of Christ. On the divine side, Christ’s death was predetermined in such a way that God assumes all responsibility for it, nor could He share its achievement with another. It was His purpose from all eternity. It was foreshadowed in God-wrought types. All its details were predicted by Spirit-empowered prophets. In Psalm 22 there is recorded the cry of suffering: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?” (vs. 1); the precise words the tormentors would utter: “He trusted on the LORD that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him” (vs. 8 ); the acknowledgment of the divine responsibility: “And thou hast brought me into the dust of death” (vs. 15 ); the piercing of the hands and feet: “They pierced my hands and my feet” (vs. 16 ); and the parting of the garments and casting lots for His vesture: “They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture” (vs. 18). To the same end, there is in Isaiah, chapter 53, the recital of the truth that it was Jehovah who bruised Him, who put Him to grief, who made His soul an offering for sin (vs. 10). Likewise, the sovereignty of God is reflected in the more than forty times the word fulfilled occurs in the New Testament and in reference to the realization of the purpose of God in the death of His Son. On the human aside, men were doing and saying precisely what was predicted of them, yet in such a way as that the responsibility fell alone upon them. Christ was rejected by the Jews, betrayed by Judas, condemned by Herod, and crucified under Pontius Pilate. Beyond all this human action it is declared that it was God who was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself (2 Cor 5:19). It is written that Christ was made sin (by the Father—certainly not by Judas Iscariot), that lost souls might be made (by the Father—certainly not by Pontius Pilate) the righteousness of God in Him (2 Cor 5:21). Two immeasurable facts—as far removed from each other as the east is from the west—were spoken by Peter in his Pentecostal sermon, “Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain” (Acts 2:23). In precisely the same manner in which there is no gratitude due Judas, Herod, or Pontius Pilate, there is no doctrine based on what they did. The transforming power of Christ’s death is not in the human tragedy; it is in the divine reconciliation. The death and resurrection of Christ are counterparts of one divine undertaking. None will predicate of man that he had any part in the resurrection; yet the divine accomplishment in the cross is as void of human cooperation as is the resurrection.
b. Who put Christ to death?
Closely related to the contrast between the divine and human sides as to Christ’s death, is the question as to who put Christ to death. As already indicated, the Scriptures assign both a human and a divine responsibility for Christ’s death—not a co-operation or partnership, for each is treated, in its own sphere, as wholly answerable. In all, eight individuals or groups are held accountable. Four of these are named in Acts 4:27, 28: “For of a truth against thy holy child Jesus, whom thou hast anointed, both Herod, and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles, and the people of Israel, were gathered together, for to do whatsoever thy hand and thy counsel determined before to be done.” Here, again, the Holy Spirit safeguards the all-important truth that these individuals and groups were doing precisely what the hand and counsel of Jehovah determined. The fifth responsible individual is Satan—though he may have been aided by uncounted cohorts of evil spirits. In the great protevangelium of Genesis 3:15, it is stated that not only would Christ bruise the serpent’s head, but that the serpent would bruise His heel. Thus it is implied that Satan did what he could in the exercise of his power—directly, or indirectly, through human agents—against the Savior. There is much Scripture which reveals that mighty conflict was waged between Christ and the powers of darkness. It is written: “Now is the judgment of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out” (John 12:31); “Hereafter I will not talk much with you: for the prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me” (John 14:30); “Of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged” (John 16:11); “Blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross; and having spoiled principalities and powers, he made a shew of them openly, triumphing over them in it” (Col 2:14, 15). What transpired between the Son of God and Satan at the cross is related to heavenly spheres and cannot be comprehended by men.
The remaining three who are said to be accountable for Christ’s death are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The action of the Father is presented in types, in prophecies, and in direct declarations. It is written: “God will provide himself a lamb” (Gen 22:8); “Thou has brought me into the dust of death” (Ps 22:15); “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1); “Reproach hath broken my heart” (Ps 69:20); “Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin” (Isa 53:10); “Behold the Lamb of God” (John 1:29); “Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23); “For to do whatsoever thy hand and counsel determined before to be done” (Acts 4:28); “He that spared not his own Son” (Rom 8:32); and “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son” (John 3:16).
The action of the Son is typified in the non-resistance of Isaac on Mount Moriah; also in prophecy by the words “But thou art holy” (Ps 22:3), and “Yet he opened not his mouth” (Isa 53:7); and indirect statement: “No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This commandment have I received of my Father” (John 10:18); “And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit; and having said thus, he gave up the ghost” (Luke 23:46); “Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it” (Eph 5:25); “Who loved me, and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20); “Who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works” (Titus 2:14); “Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Matt 10:28); “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (1 John 3:16). The willingness of the Son in the Father’s hand is the answer to the contention that it is immoral for God to offer His Son. Such an act on the part of God, it is freely admitted, might be the most terrible crime or the most glorious consummation of divine grace. All depends on the one issue as to whether the sacrifice is imposed upon the Son against His will or whether He is in agreement and co-operation with His Father. That He was in agreement is assured in the above Scriptures, which indicated that He offered Himself, and in every passage in which He is seen to be subject to His Father’s will, notably, “Then said I, Lo, I come (in the volume of the book it is written of me,) to do thy will, O God” (Heb 10:7).
The action of the Holy Spirit in the sufferings and death of Christ is revealed in one passage in particular: “How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?” (Heb 9:14).
c. What Christ suffered at the hands of men and what He suffered at the hand of His Father
Yet still more closely related to the major distinction between the crucifixion as a crime and the cross as the supreme manifestation of divine compassion, is the difference to be seen between that which Christ suffered at the hands of men and that which He suffered at the hand of His Father. Human hands might inflict physical suffering and death as any victim would die, but only the hand of God could make Christ a sin-offering, or could lay on Him the iniquity of others (2 Cor 5:21; Isa 53:6). No more impossible notion has been formed into verse than the line of a hymn, which reads, “I lay my sins on Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God.” It is not in the power of any man to lay his sins on Jesus, or to lay anyone’s sins on Jesus. Had Pontius Pilate been moved with superhuman compassion, for lost souls and had he crucified the Savior with that in view, he could have done no more than to crucify Him. God alone might provide a sin-bearer and God alone could impute sin to the One He provided.
d. The value of Christ's sufferings to the Father
Yet another vital distinction,—essential, indeed, to a clear understanding of the nature of the sufferings and death of Christ—is that which may be seen when the value of Christ’s sufferings and death, as pertaining to the Father, is compared with that value as it pertains to those who are saved by it. An exact computation of those values is not possible by any human being. That the one who is saved will not perish, but is in present possession of eternal life, that he is united to Christ to share His peace and glory, and that he shall, when he sees his Savior, be like Him, could never be accurately appraised by men. Over against this is the truth that, regardless of His infinite love which would bless the creatures of His hand, the moral restraint on God which sin imposes could not be removed even by a sovereign decree; it was necessary, in the light of His holy character and government, that the price of redemption should be required at the hand of the offender or at the hand of a substitute who would die in the offender’s place. By the death of Christ for sinners, the moral restraint is removed and the love of God is free to act in behalf of those who will receive His grace and blessing. No measurement may be placed on the meaning of this freedom which the cross has secured for God. It is revealed, however, that, when thus untrammelled, God, in the satisfaction of His love, accomplishes the greatest thing that God can do, which is, so to transform the sinner who trusts Him that the sinner will appear in eternal glory conformed to the image of Christ. There is nothing conceivable that would be a greater achievement than this; but it is wrought, primarily, to satisfy the love of God for the sinner. Those who trust Him will not perish, but have everlasting life. However, all this was made possible because of the fact that God so loved that He gave His only begotten Son. What the freedom to exercise such love, which is secured by the death of Christ, means to God is as incomprehensible as the divine love itself.
To the same end, it may be added that, as the salvation of a soul demonstrates the exceeding grace of God, which grace could not be exhibited by any other means, the death of Christ has secured and made possible that exalted experience on God’s part of the exercise of His superabounding grace. Again, all human estimations are incapable of any adequate knowledge of the value to God of Christ’s death.
e. The wisdom, power, and sacrifice of God
A reasonable approach to the contemplation of the sufferings and death of Christ requires that due thought be given to the wisdom, power, and sacrifice which God has exercised in devising and achieving the plan by which the lost may be saved. As before observed, the cross is to the Jew a stumblingblock and to the Gentile foolishness, but to those who are called—whether Jew or Gentile—Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God (1 Cor 1:23, 24). Thus it is asserted that God’s power is set free to act in behalf of the lost, and His wisdom is demonstrated in the plan of salvation—all through the cross of Christ. As to His power, it is noticeable that, according to, Psalm 8:3—”When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,” creation is said to be but the finger-play of God; but, when He would save the lost, according to Isaiah 53:1—”to whom is the arm of the LORD revealed?”—the great right arm of Jehovah, the symbol of all His strength, is made bare and called into action. As to His wisdom, it is disclosed that, by the death of His Son, He has solved His greatest problem, namely, as to how He might be just and yet justify the ungodly (Rom 3:26; 4:5). As to His sacrifice, no greater immolation could be designed than is indicated by the words, “He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all” (Rom 8:32). It would be folly indeed for men to suppose that it is within their capacity to comprehend the power of God, the wisdom of God, or the sacrifice of God as revealed in the salvation of a soul.
f. The unified action of the Three Persons
Still another introductory word concerns the unified action of the three Persons of the Godhead in saving the lost. The three Persons are seen in achieving the creation of the universe. To each this vast work is accredited separately and with the implication that each acted alone, and when so acting was wholly sufficient and responsible. In the greater work of redemption—specifically the sufferings and death of Christ—, it is the Son who suffers and dies, but the Father gives the Son and the Son is offered by the Eternal Spirit. Here is revealed the deepest unified action and co-operation.
The Son cries, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1; Matt 27:46); yet it is affirmed that it was the very God to whom He cried that was, at this precise moment, “in Christ reconciling the world unto himself” (2 Cor 5:19). To finite minds all this is paradoxical; yet it serves to emphasize anew the deeper truth that, though there be three Persons in the Godhead, there is but one essence. Neither the Father nor the Spirit became incarnate. The action of the Son was always according to the will of the Father and never more so than in His death (Phil 2:8). All the Son wrought was in the power of the Spirit and never more perfectly than in His death. Objectively, not only did the Father give the Son (John 3:16), but He sent the Son (John 3:17), He loved the Son (John 3:35), He is glorified in the Son (John 14:13), and He glorified the Son, (Acts 3:13); yet wholly consonant is this truth with a deeper reality, namely, that the Father and the Son are one (John 10:30; 14:9–11; 17:21). Thus in the larger revelation, which men may not comprehend, the triune God is the Savior of the world. Neglect of this aspect of truth has always resulted in notions respecting God which are injurious. When specific attributes are assigned to one Person to the exclusion of the others, a theology arises which conceives of the Father as the arbiter of justice, the defender of holiness, while the Son is the manifester of that divine love which would rescue the sinner from the judgments which the Father requires. The Son does not save from the Father; He saves from righteous judgment against sin, and of the Savior it is said that into His hands all judgment has been committed (John 5:27; Acts 10:42; 17:31). The Father is not the condemner of the world. He it was who sent His Son into the world, that the world through Him might be saved (John 3:17). It still remains true that the Father gave the Son, the Son died, and the Spirit applies the value of that death to those who believe.
Dallas, Texas
Notes
- Quoted by R. W. Dale, The Atonement, p. 3.
- Pp. 21,22.
- Pp. 25-30.
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