Chapter Five: Christ The Spoiler of Principalities and Powers

Chapter 5:
Christ The Spoiler of Principalities and Powers

‘And having spoiled principalities and powers, he made a shew
of them openly, triumphing over them in it.’ (Colossians 2:15)

To the eye of reason the cross is the centre of sorrow and the lowest depth of shame. Jesus dies a malefactor's death. In the midst of mockery, and jest, and scorn, and blasphemy, he gives up the ghost. Earth rejects him and lifts him from her surface, and heaven affords him no light, but darkens the mid-day sun in the hour of his extremity. To the world the cross must ever be the emblem of shame; to the Jew a stumbling-block, and to the Greek foolishness. How different, however, is the view which presents itself to the eye of faith. Faith knows no shame in the cross, except the shame of the sin which nailed the Saviour there; it sees no ground for scorn, but pours contempt on all despisers. Faith sees, indeed, a dying Saviour, but it beholds him bringing life and immortality to light at the moment when his soul is eclipsed in the shadow of death. Faith regards the cross, not as the emblem of shame, but as the token of glory. The sons of Belial lay the cross in the dust, but the Christian makes a constellation of it, and sees it glittering in the seventh heaven. My brethren, our text tells us that the cross was our Lord's field of triumph; there he fought, and conquered, too. As a victor, on the cross he divided the spoil. Nay, more than this; in our text the cross is spoken of as being Christ's triumphal chariot in which he rose when he led captivity captive, and received gifts for men. Calvin thus admirably expounds the last sentence of our text: ‘The expression in the Greek allows, it is true, of the reading in himself; the connection of the passage, however, requires that we read it otherwise; for what would be meagre as applied to Christ, suits admirably well as applied to the cross. For as he had previously compared the cross to a signal trophy or show of triumph, in which Christ led about his enemies, so he now also compares it to a triumphal car in which he showed himself in great magnificence. For there is no tribunal so magnificent, no throne so stately, no show of triumph so distinguished, no chariot so elevated, as is the gibbet on which Christ has subdued death and the devil, the prince of death; nay, more, has utterly trodden them under his feet.’ First, I shall at this time endeavour to describe Christ as spoiling his enemies on the cross; and having done that, I shall lead you to see the Saviour leading his foes captive in triumphal procession upon and through his cross, there and then making a show of them openly, triumphing over them in it.

I. First, our faith is invited to behold CHRIST ON THE CROSS MAKING A SPOIL OF PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS. Satan, leagued with sin and death, had made this world a dungeon of woe. The prince of the power of the air, fell usurper, not content with his dominions in hell, must needs invade this fair earth. He found our first parents in the bliss of Eden; he tempted them to forego their allegiance to the King of heaven; and they became his bondslaves—bondslaves for ever, if the Lord of heaven had not interposed to ransom them. The voice of mercy was heard while the fetters were being riveted upon their feet, crying, ‘Ye shall yet be free. He who shall bruise the serpent's head shall deliver his prisoners from the house of bondage.’ Long did the promise tarry. At last, in the fulness of time, the Deliverer appeared, and after a life of conflict, came to closer quarters with the foe. He entered on the battle saying, ‘This is your house and the power of darkness. Now is the crisis of this world; now must the prince of darkness be cast out.’ From the table of communion the Redeemer arose at midnight, and marched forth to the battle. How dreadful was the contest! In the first onset the champion appeared to be vanquished. Beaten to the earth at the first assault, he fell upon his knees and cried ‘My Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from me.’ Revived in strength, made strong by heaven, he no longer feared or uttered a word which looked like renouncing the fight. From the terrible skirmish, all red with bloody sweat, he dashed into the thick of the fight. The kiss of Judas was, as it were, the first sounding of the trumpet; Pilate's bar was the unsheathing of the weapons; the cruel lash was the crossing of the swords: but the cross was the centre of the battle; there, on the top of Calvary, must the dread fight of eternity be fought. Now must the Son of God arise, and gird his sword upon his thigh.

Dread defeat or glorious conquest awaited the champion of the church. Which shall it be? We hold our breath with anxious suspense while the storm is raging. The howls and yells of hell rise in awful clamour. The pit is emptying out of its legions. Terrible as lions, hungry as wolves and black as night, the demons rush on in myriads. Satan's reserved forces, those that had long been kept against this day of terrible battle, are roaring from their dens. Countless are their armies, and fierce their countenances. Brandishing his sword the arch fiend leads the van, bidding his followers fight neither with small nor great, save only with the King of Israel. Terrible are the leaders of the battle. Sin is there, and all its innumerable offspring, spitting forth the venom of asps, and infixing their poisoned fangs in the Saviour's flesh. Death is there upon his pale horse, and his cruel dart rends its way through the body of Jesus even to his inmost heart. The Lord is ‘exceeding sorrowful, even unto death’. Hell is there with coals of juniper and fiery darts. But chief and head amongst them is Satan; remembering well the ancient day when Christ hurled him from the battlements of heaven, he rushes with all his malice yelling to the attack. The darts shot into the air, are so countless that they blind the sun. Darkness covers the battlefield, even darkness which might be felt. Long does the conflict seem to waver, the fight of one against many. One man—nay, tell it, lest any soul misunderstand me, the one God stands in battle array against ten thousand of principalities and powers. On, on they come, and he bears the shock of all. Silently at first he permits their ranks to break upon him, too terribly enduring hardness to spare a thought for shouting. But at last the battle cry is heard. He who is fighting for his people lifts up his voice, but it is a cry which makes his friends to tremble. The battle is so hot upon him and the dust so thick that he is choked with thirst. He cried, ‘I thirst.’ Surely, now he is about to be defeated! Wait a while! See ye yon heaps; all these have fallen beneath his arm! as for the rest, fear not the issue. The enemy is but rushing to his own destruction. In vain his fury and his rage; for see, the last rank is charging; the battle of ages is almost over. At last the darkness is dispersed and with it the legions of his foes. Hark how the conqueror cries. ‘It is finished.’ And where are now his enemies? They are all dead. There lies the king of terrors, pierced through with one of his own darts! There lies Satan with his head broken! Yonder crawls the broken-backed serpent, writhing in ghastly misery! As for sin, it is cut in pieces and scattered to the winds of heaven! ‘It is finished,’ cries the conqueror, as he returns with dyed garments from Bozrah: ‘I have trodden the winepress alone, I have trampled them in my fury, and their blood has stained all my raiment.’ Behold he proceeds to divide the spoil, and we are glad to remember that when the spoil is divided it is a sure token that the warfare is accomplished. The enemy will never suffer the spoil to be divided among the conquerors as long as he has any strength remaining. We may gather from our text of a surety, that Jesus Christ has totally routed all his enemies.

What means this metaphor of Christ dividing the spoil? I take it that it means, first of all, that he disarmed all his enemies. Satan came against Christ; he had in his hand a sharp sword called the Law, dipped in the poison of sin, so that every wound which the law inflicted was deadly. Christ dashed this sword out of Satan's hand, and there stood the prince of darkness unarmed. His helmet was cleft in twain, and his head was crushed as with a rod of iron. Death also rose against Christ, but the Saviour snatched his quiver from him, emptied out all his darts, cut them in two, and gave him back the feather end, but kept the poisoned barbs from him, that he might never destroy the ransomed. Sin came against Christ! But sin was utterly cut in pieces. It had been Satan's armour-bearer, but its shield was cast away, and it lay dead upon the plain. Satan has nothing left him now wherewith he may mortally wound us, for his sword is broken to shivers. In battles of old, especially among the Romans, after the enemy had been overcome, it was the custom to take away all their weapons and ammunition: afterwards they were stripped of their armour and their garments, their hands were tied behind their backs, and they were made to pass under the yoke. Even so hath Christ done with sin, death and hell; he hath taken their armour, spoiled them of their weapons, and made them pass under the yoke; captivity is led captive. In the next place, he took away their treasures, as well as their weapons. Victors impoverish, and so weaken, their defeated foes. They dismantle their fortresses, and rifle all their stores, so that they may not be able to renew the attack. Christ hath done the like with all his enemies. Satan had taken away from us all our possessions: all the joy, and happiness, and peace of man, Satan had taken. Not that he could enjoy them himself, but that he delighted to ruin us. Christ has gotten back to us our lost inheritance. Paradise is ours, and more. O robber of our race, how art thou spoiled! Didst thou deprive Adam of his riches? The second Adam hath rent them from thee! How is the hammer of the whole earth cut asunder and broken, and the waster is become desolate. Now shall the needy be remembered, and again shall the meek inherit the earth. ‘Then is the prey of a great spoil divided; the lame take the prey.’ Moreover, when victors divide the spoil, it is usual to take away all the ornaments from the enemy, their crowns and their jewels. Christ on the cross did the like with Satan. Satan wore a haughty diadem of triumph. ‘I fought the first Adam,’ he said, ‘I overcame him, and here's my glittering coronet.’ Christ snatched it from his brow in the hour when he bruised his head. And now Satan cannot boast of a single victory, he is thoroughly defeated. In the first skirmish he defeated manhood, but in the second battle manhood vanquished him. Satan's reigning power is gone. He may tempt, but he cannot compel; he may threaten, but he cannot subdue; for the crown is taken from his head, and the mighty are brought low. O sing unto the Lord a new song, all ye his people, make a joyful noise unto him with psalms, all ye his redeemed; for he hath dashed in pieces the enemy. And now, what says this to us? Simply this. If Christ on the cross hath spoiled Satan, let us not be afraid to encounter this great enemy of our souls. My brethren, in all things we must be made like unto Christ. We must bear our cross, and on that cross we must fight as he did with sin, and death and hell. Let us not fear. The result of the battle is certain, for as the Lord our Saviour hath overcome once for all, even so shall we most surely conquer in him. Be ye not afraid with sudden fear when the evil one cometh upon you. If he accuse you, reply to him in these words—‘Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect?’ If he condemn you, laugh him to scorn, crying—‘Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again.’ If he threaten to divide you from Christ's love, encounter him with confidence, for ‘I am persuaded, that neither things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ If he let loose your sins upon you, dash the hell-dogs aside with this—‘If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.’ If death should threaten you, shout in his very face—‘O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?’ Hold up the cross before you. Let that be your shield and buckler, and rest assured that as your Master not only routed the foe but afterwards took the spoil, it shall be even so with you. Your battles with Satan shall turn to your advantage. You shall become all the richer for your antagonists. The more numerous your afflictions the greater your share of the spoil. Your tribulation shall work patience, and your patience experience, and your experience hope—a hope that maketh not ashamed. By the very attacks of Satan shall you be helped the better to enjoy the rest which remaineth to the people of God. Put yourselves in array against sin and Satan. All ye that bend the bow, shoot at them: spare no arrows, for your enemies are rebels against God. Fear not, neither be ye dismayed, for the battle is the Lord's and he will deliver them into your hands.

2. The second part of our text refers to OUR LORD'S TRIUMPH ON THE CROSS. When a Roman general had performed great feats in a foreign country, his highest reward was that the senate should decree him a triumph. On a certain set day the gates of Rome were thrown open; the houses were all decorated, and the people climbed to the tops of the houses, or stood in great crowds along the streets. The gates were opened, and by-and-by the first legion began to stream in with its banners flying, and its trumpets sounding. The people saw the stern warriors as they marched along the street returning from the blood-red battlefields. After one half of the army had thus defiled, your eye would rest upon one who was the centre of all attraction. Riding in a noble chariot drawn by milk-white horses, there came the conqueror himself, crowned with the laurel crown and standing erect. Chained to his chariot were the kings and mighty men of the regions which he had conquered. Immediately behind them came part of the booty. There were carried the ivory and the ebony, the gold and silver vessels, and rare fabrics, together with the beasts of the different countries which he had subdued. After these came the rest of the soldiery, a long, long stream of valiant men, all of them sharing the triumph of their captain. Behind them came banners, the old flags which had floated aloft in battle, and the standards which had been taken from the enemy. After these, men bore aloft painted emblems of the great victories of the warrior. Upon one there would be a huge map depicting the rivers which he had crossed, or the seas through which his navy had found their way. Everything was represented in a picture, and the populace gave a fresh shout as they saw the memorial of each victory. Behind, together with other trophies, would come the prisoners of less eminent rank. Then the rear would be closed with trumpeters sounding aloud and swelling the acclamations of the throng. It was a noble day for Old Rome. Children would never forget those glorious shows and galas; they would estimate their years from the time of one triumph to another. High holiday was kept in the great warrior's name. Women cast down flowers before the hero, and he was the monarch of the day.

Now, our apostle had evidently seen such a triumph, or read of it, and he takes this as a representation of what Christ did on the cross. ‘He made a show of them openly, triumphing over them in it.’ How could the cross be the scene of a triumph? Most of the old commentators can scarcely conceive it to be true. They say, ‘This must certainly refer to Christ's resurrection and ascension.’ But, nevertheless, so saith the Scripture, even on the cross Christ triumphed over his foes. Yes! While those hands were bleeding, the acclamations of angels were being poured upon his head. Yes, while those feet were being rent with the nails, the noblest spirits in the world were crowding round him with admiration. And when upon that blood-stained cross he died in agonies unutterable, there went up a shout of acclamation such as never was heard before, for the ransomed in heaven, and all the angels of God with loudest harmony chanted his praise. Then was sung in fullest chorus the song of Moses the servant of God, and of the Lamb, for he had indeed cut Rahab and sorely wounded the dragon. Sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously. The Lord shall reign for ever and ever, King of kings and Lord of lords.

I do not feel able, however, to describe a scene so grand, and yet so contrary to everything that flesh could discern. I choose, rather, to take my text thus: the cross is the ground of Christ's ultimate triumph, he may be said to have really triumphed there because it was by that one offering of himself that he completely vanquished all his foes, and for ever sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens. In the cross, to the spiritual eye, every victory of Christ is contained. It may not be there in fact, but it is there virtually; the germ of all our Lord's glories may be discovered by the eye of faith in the agonies of the cross.

Christ has for ever overcome all his foes, and divided the spoil upon the battlefield, and at this day he is enjoying the well-earned reward of his fearful struggle. Lift up your eyes to the great metropolis of God. The pearly gates are wide open, and the city shines with her bejewelled walls like a bride prepared for her husband. Do you see the angels crowding to the battlements? Do you observe them on every mansion of the celestial city, eagerly looking for something which has not yet arrived? At last, there is heard the sound of a trumpet, and the angels hurry to the gates—the vanguard of the redeemed host is approaching the city. Abel comes in alone, clothed in a crimson garb, the herald of the glorious army of martyrs. Hark to the shout of acclamation! This is the first of Christ's warriors, at once a soldier and a trophy. Close at his heels there follow others, who in those early times had learned the coming Saviour's fame. Behind them a mighty host may be discovered of patriarchal veterans, who have witnessed to the coming of the Lord in a wanton age. See Enoch still walking with his God, and singing sweetly—‘Behold the Lord cometh with ten thousands of his saints.’ There, too, is Noah, who had sailed in the ark, with the Lord as his pilot. Then follow Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Moses and Joshua, and Samuel, and David, all mighty men of valour. Harken to them as they enter! Each one of them cried, ‘Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, to him be honour, and glory, and dominion, and power, for ever and ever.’ Look, my brethren, with admiration upon this noble army! Mark the heroes as they march along the golden streets, everywhere meeting an enthusiastic welcome from the angels who have kept their first estate. On, on they pour, those countless legions. Was there ever such a spectacle? It is not the pageant of a day, but the ‘show’ of all time. For four thousand years, the army of Christ's redeemed has streamed along. Sometimes there is a short rank, for the people have been minished and brought low; but, anon, a crowd succeeds, and on, still on they come, all praising him who loved them and gave himself for them. But see, he comes! The Conqueror himself! I see his immediate herald, clad in a garment of camel's hair, wearing a leathern girdle about his loins: the Prince of the house of David is not far behind. Let every eye be open. Mark how the angels and the redeemed crowd the windows of heaven! HE comes! He comes! It is Jesus himself! ‘Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up ye everlasting doors, that the King of glory may come in.’ See, he enters in the midst of acclamations. It is he! But no longer crowned with thorns. It is he! But though his hands bear the scars, they are stained with blood no longer. His eyes are as a flame of fire, and on his head are many crowns, and he hath on his vesture and on his thigh written, KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS. He stands aloft in that chariot which is ‘paved with love for the daughters of Jerusalem.’ Clothed in a vesture dipped in blood, he stands confessed the emperor of heaven and earth. On, on he rides, and louder than the noise of many waters and like great thunders are the acclamations which surround him! See how John's vision is become a reality, for now we can see for ourselves and hear with our own ears the new song, whereof he writes, ‘They sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof; for thou was slain, and has 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.’ But who are those at his chariot wheels? Who are those grim monsters howling in the rear? I know them. First of all there is the arch enemy. Look on the old serpent bound and fettered, how he writhes his rugged length along! His azure hues all tarnished with trailing in the dust, his scales despoiled of their once-vaunted brightness. Now is the destroyer destroyed, and now shall death and hell be cast into the lake of fire. With what derision is the chief of rebels regarded! How is he become the object of everlasting contempt! He that sitteth in the heavens doth laugh, the Lord doth have him in derision. And now regard attentively yon hideous monster, Sin, chained hand in hand with his satanic sire. See how he twists and writhes in agony. Mark how he glares upon the holy city, but is unable to spit his venom there, for he is chained and gagged, and dragged along an unwilling captive at the wheels of the victor. And there, too, is Death, with his darts all broken and his hands behind him—the grim king of terrors, he, too, is a captive. Hark to the songs of the shining ones as they see these mighty prisoners dragged along! Worthy is Immanuel to sit at his Father's side, for he hath vanquished all his foes! And now behind him I see the great mass of his people streaming in. The apostles first arrived in one goodly fellowship hymning their Lord; and then their immediate successors; and a long array of those who through cruel mockings and blood, through flame and sword, have followed their Master. These are those of whom the world was not worthy, brightest among the stars of heaven. Regard also the mighty preachers and confessors of the faith, Chrysostom, Athanasius, Augustine and the like. Witness their holy unanimity in praising their Lord. Then let your eye run along the glittering ranks till you come to the days of the Reformation. I see in the midst of the squadron, Luther, and Calvin, and Zwingli, three holy brothers. I see just before them Wickliffe, and Huss, and Jerome of Prague, all marching together, and then I see a number that no man can number, converted to God through these earliest reformers, and those who followed them. Looking down to our own time I see the stream broaden and widen, for many are the soldiers who have in these last times entered into their Master's triumph. We may mourn their absence from us, but we must rejoice in their presence with the Lord. But what is the unanimous shout which rolls along from the first rank to the last? It is this: ‘Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever!’ I have no time to enlarge further, or else I might describe the glorious pictures at the end of the procession; for in the old Roman triumphs, the deeds of the conqueror were all depicted in paintings. The towns he had taken, the rivers he had passed, the provinces he had subdued, the battles he had fought, were represented upon tablets and exposed to the view of the people, who with great festivity and rejoicing accompanied him in throngs, or beheld him from the windows of their houses, and filled the air with their applause. I might present to you first of all a picture of hell's dungeons blown to atoms. Satan had prepared deep in the depths of darkness a prison-house for God's elect; but Christ has not left one stone upon another. I see the chains broken, and the prison doors burnt with fire. On one picture I see heaven open to all believers, and on another the grave despoiled. But we cannot stay to describe the records of his love. We know that the time shall come when the triumphant procession shall cease, when the last of his redeemed shall have entered into the city, and when he shall deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father, and God shall be all in all.

Say, my soul, wilt thou have a humble part in that glorious pageant? Wilt thou follow as one of his chosen soldiery? Wilt thou join in the thundering hosanna? Shall thy voice help to swell the everlasting chorus? Sometimes, I fear it shall not. There are times when the awful question comes—what if my name should be left out when he shall read the muster-roll? Brethren, does not that thought trouble you? Never rest till the question is decided once for all. I put the inquiry again. Can you answer it? Will you be there with him? Will you behold him triumph over sin, death and hell at the last? Can you answer this question? There is another, but the answer will serve for both—dost thou believe on the Lord Jesus Christ? Is he thy confidence and thy trust? Hast thou committed thy soul to his keeping? Reposing on his sacrifice canst thou say for thine immortal spirit,

‘Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee?’

If thou canst say that, thine eyes shall see him in the day of his glory, and thou shalt sit with him upon his throne, even as he has overcome and sits down with his Father upon his throne.