in
or think lightly of it, as if it were on our own responsibility and at
our own risk we sinned.

But not only does the death of Christ exhibit the intricate connections
of our sin with other persons and the grievous consequence of sin in
general, but also it exhibits the enormity of this particular sin of
rejecting Christ. "He will convince the world of sin, _because they
believe not on Me_." It was this sin in point of fact which cut to the
heart the crowd at Jerusalem first addressed by Peter. Peter had nothing
to say of their looseness of life, of their worldliness, of their
covetousness: he did not go into particulars of conduct calculated to
bring a blush to their cheeks; he took up but one point, and by a few
convincing remarks showed them the enormity of crucifying the Lord of
glory. The lips which a few days before had cried out "Crucify Him,
crucify Him!" now cried, Men and brethren, what shall we do, how escape
from the crushing condemnation of mistaking God's image for a criminal?
In that hour Christ's words were fulfilled; they were convinced of sin
because they believed not on Him.

This is ever the damning sin--to be in presence of goodness and not to
love it, to see Christ and to see Him with unmoved and unloving hearts,
to hear His call without response, to recognise the beauty of holiness
and yet turn away to lust and self and the world. This is the
condemnation--that light is come into the world and we have loved
darkness rather than the light. "If I had not come and spoken unto
them, they had not had sin: but now they have no cloke for their sin. He
that hateth Me, hateth My Father also." To turn away from Christ is to
turn away from absolute goodness. It is to show that however much we may
relish certain virtues and approve particular forms of goodness,
goodness absolute and complete does not attract us.

II. The conviction of righteousness is the complement, the other half,
of the conviction of sin. In the shame of guilt there is the germ of the
conviction of righteousness. The sense of guilt is but the
acknowledgment that we ought to be righteous. No guilt attaches to the
incapable. The sting of guilt is poisoned with the knowledge that we
were capable of better things. Conscience exclaims against all excuses
that would lull us into the idea that sin is insuperable, and that there
is nothing better for us than a moderately sinful life. When conscience
ceases to condemn, hope dies. A mist rises