DR 3
December 3
Matthew 27:45-49. The darkness.
When the Son of God was born, a great light was seen in the heavens in the midst of the night; but when he was dying, a sudden darkness overspread the land at noonday. The shepherds were sore afraid when they saw the light. How, then, must the murderers of the Lord have felt when they beheld the darkness! What was the cause of this darkness? Sometimes an eclipse of the sun will suddenly obscure the day. But an eclipse cannot occur at the time of a full moon. As it was at that season the passover was celebrated, it is clear this darkness was not caused by an eclipse. It was a miraculous event. It was a judgment sent by God. And why? To show his wrath against the murderers of his Son. Since the beginning of the world so dreadful a deed had never been committed, as the murder of the Lord of glory. The day in which the deed was done might well be distinguished from other days. The language Job used respecting the day of his birth might be applied to it. "Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it. Let a cloud dwell upon it; and the blackness of the day terrify it." (Job 3:5.)
The crowds who had flocked to Calvary could no longer gaze with unfeeling curiosity, or malicious triumph, upon the Lord's bleeding body and agonized countenance. The Father had drawn a thick curtain around his expiring Son. No circumstance is recorded that occurred during those solemn hours of darkness; but at length a voice was heard saying "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The enemies of Jesus knew the voice. They knew it was not the cry of one of the dying malefactors that they heard. But were they melted by the anguish of those tones? No, they mocked as before. Mistaking the word Eli (which means God ) for the name of Elijah, they cried out, "Let us see whether Elijah will come to save him." The three hours' darkness had not changed their wicked hearts.
While the Son enjoyed his Father's presence, he could bear the insults of men without a complaint. But when that countenance, which had ever shone upon him, was hidden from his sight, then he uttered an agonizing cry. Other sorrows were familiar to him from his cradle; but this was a new and strange trial. Of him it is written that he "is in the bosom of the Father." What closeness of communion, what depth of love, are implied in that expression! Nothing could have interrupted this communion or deadened the sense of this love, but sin. Our sins were the cloud that for a moment hid the Father's face from his only beloved Son. For a moment it cast a deep shadow over the heart of the Son of God, and then was blotted out forever in his atoning blood. From his Father's throne, he calls to us, and says, "O Israel, you shall not be forgotten of me. I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, your transgressions, and as a cloud your sins; return unto me; for I have redeemed you." (Is. 44:22.) But each sinner must come to him, that each sinner may receive pardon. Those who will not come will die in their sins. Then God will forsake them forever. When they call out, "Why have you forsaken us?" what will be the reply? Will it not be, "You would not come unto me that you might have life?" A child abandoned by its parents—a wife deserted by her husband, are regarded with pity, but the soul forsaken of his God is the most miserable of all beings. This is the misery of the lost spirits in hell. God has cast them away from his presence.