THE KING'S GARDEN

"Other Gospels are already rife, and in many quarters the covenant of grace seems to be forgotten. But the theology of the Confession of Faith and the pages of Boston and the Erskines are still dear to the Scottish people. And the same truth, sent through the living fire of a spiritual preacher's soul, will force out for itself new and fresh expression..."

So wrote Hugh Martin in his preface to his great work The Shadow of Calvary, in which he examines 'the last great crisis of the sacred life' of Jesus Christ: his experience in Gethsemane, followed by his arrest and trial. Hugh Martin, as we noted in the first study, was nothing if not a 'spiritual preacher', and the old doctrine of the substitutionary atonement of Jesus Christ found new expression in his writing.

At the remove of around a century and a half from the hey-day of Hugh Martin's ministry, his observation on the appearance of 'other gospels' is still relevant and pertinent. In his own day, new views on the atonement were already in vogue, coupled with attempts to modify the older evangelical tradition of the Westminster Confession. Thus John McLeod Campbell's work The Nature of the Atonement (1856) set out to explain his earlier statement to Thomas Erskine that on the question of the extent of the atonement "the Calvinism of Scotland seems breaking up fast". The essence of the new approach was, according to Tom Torrance, a shift "away from the logical framework of double predestination and rigid law in federal Calvinism..."

But Hugh Martin was right: notwithstanding the changed language being employed to discuss the work of Jesus Christ for us, there were many in Scotland who loved the old Calvinism. The Shadow of Calvary was Martin's attempt, in the style, as he put it, of 'the Scottish lecture', to recast the old doctrine in a fresh manner.

To have Martin as our guide into the garden of Gethsemane, where Christ's earthly ministry reached its grand climax under the shadow of the cross, is to be led with awe into the most solemn moments of the Gospel history. Martin's language is majestic, and his words pregnant with meaning. As we watch Jesus at prayer in Gethsemane, Martin reminds us that 'it was by prayer that he sued out all the promises made to him in his covenant with the Father'. As he enters the familiar ground, Martin reminds us that 'Jesus was not fleeing his fate when he betook himself to Gethsemane. He was voluntarily going forward to meet the sword'. And as he cries to his Father regarding his allotted portion, Martin reminds us that he spoke 'as one whose fear was awakened ... but not as one whose faith was shaken'.

Having explored the incidents of the history, Martin goes on to examine their significance. What was the darkness of Gethsemane? It was the darkness of a shadow -- in this case, the shadow of the cross. What was the sorrow of Gethsemane? It was the 'prospect and foresight of the sorrows of the cross'. What was the cup that the Father gave him to drink? It was everything which actually and substantially occurred in Christ's experience from the moment of resignation, beginning with his arrest -- 'the imputation to him of a criminal's guilt, and the assignation to him of a criminal's position and destiny'.

But Martin lectures as a pastor rather than a theologian. When he comes to deal with the disciples who slept in Gethsemane -- those 'failing fellow-watchers' -- he turns the Saviour's counsel to 'Watch and pray' into a call to daily vigilance: "Watch the dangers of your special callings, your companionships, your particular connections with the world, your objects of personal attachment ... Watch your graces, what state they are in, what strength they are in, what danger they are in. Watch especially your repentance and your faith ... Watch the treasure of your renewed heart ... Abide thou in Christ, and watch with him". This is an exemplary style and method of preaching -- to bring the truth of the doctrine into personal contact with the hearer.

What Hugh Martin builds his exposition on is the old Calvinistic doctrine of the covenanted Christ -- a theme which he will explore more fully in his work on the atonement. When Christ was arrested, a crowd came with a warrant for Jesus' arrest. In Martin's words, the warrant was 'thoroughly competent, however unrighteous'. What is the explanation for this? Why should Jesus go so calmly to be apprehended as a criminal?

The answer must vindicate, according to Martin, the justice and character of God 'in so pursuing and prosecuting legally the man of sorrows'. What explanation will 'even swallow up the scandal in glory, and make the very offence of the cross a fountain and a revelation of high moral excellence'?

Is that not the perennial question at the heart of all our apologetics? How can the cross -- the death of one innocent man -- effect an atonement that will deal definitively with all the sins of an innumerable multitude? For Martin, the answer lies in covenant representation, in the race being redeemed on the same basis on which it was established at the outset -- in covenant with God, represented by one individual. As the great substitute for his people, Jesus dies, not to make the salvation of all men possible, but actually to secure the redemption of those whom the Father had given him.

Such are, in Martin's words, the 'gleams of glory' which 'may be seen ever and anon flashing through the dark shadows of Calvary'. Only there can the accusing conscience be quieted, and the troubled soul find rest. So at last, says our preacher, 'the deep shadow that loomed so drearily upon your future he will throw back behind you into the past, merging it in the shadow of Calvary and the darkness of his own woe'. The hope of the world is still in the shape of a cross.