When he was reviled, he reviled not again—1 Pet. 2: 23.
Not because Jesus' enemies had found in Him something that could properly and justly be reviled and evil spoken of; nor because His enemies were so nearly perfect that He could find nothing in them to revile and speak evil of; but because He was so full of submission to the Divine will that He was enabled to take the scoffs and railings of the people, and to bear these humbly and patiently, and to remember that even hereunto He was called, did Jesus endure patiently and learn the lessons, and prove Himself faithful, and develop and demonstrate His true character, and feel and manifest His pity for the people, in their blindness and ignorance, and His love for them.
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To revile means unjustly and needlessly to say and do uncomplimentary things to others. Jesus was more especially reviled after His sentence, by the soldiers in Caiaphas' and Pilate's palaces, and by the people and soldiers on His way to, and at, Calvary. But while He was not, and they were, deserving of reviling, He returned it not to them. Doubtless Satan sought to keep their vile words and deeds upon His mind, to stir up in Him the spirit, words and deeds of reviling. In this he failed, because our dear Redeemer, "despising the shame," looked upon it as of little consequence, and fixed His will upon pleasing the Father amid and despite their reviling. In this as well as every other respect, our blessed Lord is an example to us. Whatever reviling falls to our lot, whatever temptation comes to us to return reviling for reviling, let us, like Him, "despising the shame," fix our wills upon pleasing the Lord, amid and despite the reviling that is our portion.
Parallel passages: Matt. 26: 65; 27: 13, 27-30, 39-44, 49; Psa. 22: 6, 7, 16, 17; 31: 11, 13; 35: 20, 21; 71: 10, 11; 109: 25; Isa. 50: 6; 53: 7; Heb. 12: 3.
Questions: What has this text meant to me this week? In what relations and experiences?
TELL ME ABOUT THE MASTER
TELL me about the Master!
I am weary and worn tonight;
The day lies behind me in shadow,
And only the evening is light!
Light with a radiant glory
That lingers about the west.
My poor heart is weary, aweary,
And longs, like a child, for rest.
Tell me about the Master!
Of the hills He in loneliness trod,
When the tears and blood of his anguish,
Dropped down on Judea's sod.
For to me life's seventy mile-stones
But a sorrowful journey mark;
Rough lies the hill country before me,
The mountains behind me are dark.
Tell me about the Master!
Of the wrongs He freely forgave;
Of His love and tender compassion,
Of His love that is mighty to save;
For my heart is aweary, aweary,
Of the woes and temptations of life,
Of the error that stalks in the noonday,
Of falsehood and malice and strife.
Yet I know that whatever of sorrow
Or pain or temptation befall,
The infinite Master hath suffered,
And knoweth and pitieth all.
So tell me the sweet old story,
That falls on each wound like a balm,
And my heart that is bruised and broken
Shall grow patient and strong and calm.
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