Expositor's Bible: The Gospel of Matthew — Edition Insights

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Authors: Nicoll, W. Robertson (William Robertson), Sir, 1851-1923 [Editor], Gibson, John Monro, 1838-1921 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2012 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Bible. Matthew -- Criticism, interpretation, etc. Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

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Words 142,292

Reading time 619 min

Text sections 14

The source record for Expositor's Bible: The Gospel of Matthew — Edition Insights measures this digital text at 142,292 words, 10 hr 19 min estimated reading time, and 14 detected text sections.

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John Monro Gibson's exposition of Matthew examines the Gospel's structure and Christ's teaching through close attention to diction, dialogue, and narrative framing, emphasizing the kingdom's nature and the cost of discipleship.

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el was needed, in order to meet the wants of man in the many-sidedness of his development. As the heavenly "city lieth four square," with gates on the east, and the west, and the north, and the south, to admit strangers coming from all points of the compass; so must there be in the presentation of the Gospel an open door for all mankind. How this great purpose is attained by the fourfold Gospel with which the New Testament opens can be readily shewn; and even a brief statement of it may serve a useful purpose as introductory to our study of that which is known as the First Gospel.

The inscription over the cross was in three languages: Hebrew, Latin, and Greek. These languages represented the three great civilizations which were the final outcome of ancient history--the Jewish, the Roman, the Greek. These three were not like so many nations selected at random, but stood for three leading types of humanity. The Jew was the man of the past. He could claim Moses and the prophets; he had Abraham for his father; his records went back to the Genesis of all things. He represented ancient prerogative and privilege, the conservatism of the East. The Roman was the man of the present. He was master of the world. He represented power, prowess, and victory; and while serving himself heir to the culture which came from the shores of the Egean Sea, he had combined with it the rude strength and restless activity of the barbarian and Scythian of the North. The Greek was the man of the future. He had lost his political empire, but still retained an empire in the world of thought. He represented humanity, and the ideal, and all the promise which was afterwards to be realized in the culture of the nations of the West. The Jew was the man of tradition, the Roman the man of energy, the Greek the man of thought. Turning now to the Gospels, we find the wants of each of these three types provided for in a wondrous way. St. Matthew addresses himself especially to the Jew with his Gospel of fulfilment, St. Mark to the Roman with "his brief and terse narrative of a three years' campaign," St. Luke to the Greek with that all-pervading spirit of humanity and catholicity which is so characteristic of his Evangel; while for those who have been gathered from among the Jews and Romans and Greeks--a people who are now no longer Jews or Greeks, but are "all one in Christ Jesus," prepared to receive and appreciate the deeper things of Christ--there is a fourth Gospel, issued at a later date, with characteristics specially adapted to them: the mature work of the then venerable John, the apostle of the Christian.

It is manifest that for every reason the Gospel of St. Matthew should occupy the foremost place. "To the Jew first" is the natural order, whether we consider the claims of "the fathers," or the necessity of making it clear that the new covenant was closely linked to the old. "Salvation is of the Jews;" the Christ of God, though the Saviour of the world, had been in a very special sense "the Hope of Israel," and therefore it is appropriate that He should be represented first from the standpoint of that nation. We have, accordingly, in this Gospel, a faithful setting forth of Christ as He presented Himself to the mind and heart of a devout Jew, "an Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile," rejoicing to find in Him One who fulfilled ancient prophecy and promise, realized the true ideal of the kingdom of God, and substantiated His claim to be Himself the divine Saviour-King for whom the nation and the world had waited long.

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John Monro Gibson's commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, part of the Expositor's Bible series edited by W. Robertson Nicoll, proceeds chapter by chapter through the first Gospel. Gibson's method is to attend closely to the wording of the biblical text, drawing out the force of individual phrases and the rhetorical shape of Jesus' discourses. He is especially attentive to how Matthew structures his narrative—grouping miracles, parables, and sayings into thematic blocks—and to the way Jesus' dialogue with disciples and opponents reveals the demands of the kingdom. The exposition is consistently homiletical, aiming to clarify the text's meaning for a general readership rather than engage in technical criticism.

The Rhetoric of Self-Denial

Gibson's treatment of Matthew 16:24–26 illustrates his method of unpacking a single verse through lexical precision. He distinguishes the biblical phrase “deny himself” from the common notion of “self-denial,” which he says is “a term applied to the denial to self of something or other which perhaps self cares very little about.” For Gibson, the denial Jesus demands is more radical: “the death of self-will, and the birth of God-will, as the central force of the life.” He then connects this to the cross, which he defines not as a generic hardship but as “some point in which the will of God and self-will come into direct opposition.” The exposition moves from definition to application, noting that the conflict may be “on a point that may seem small,” yet it remains the crux of discipleship. Gibson's prose here is direct and cumulative, building a case through repetition and contrast.

The Grammar of the Kingdom

Throughout the commentary, Gibson pays close attention to the grammatical and logical connections within Jesus' sayings. In the passage on the cost of discipleship, he highlights the pivot word “for” in “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it,” explaining that it “resolve the paradox” of losing life to find it. He also notes the significance of the phrase “for My sake,” which “makes all the difference” between mere suicide and saving faith. Gibson frequently draws attention to the Revised Version's renderings, as when he quotes “forfeit his life” instead of “lose his soul,” and then presses the rhetorical question: “What shall a man give in exchange for his life?” This attention to translation choices reveals Gibson's concern for the precise force of the Greek underlying the English text.

Narrative Framing and the Shadow of the Cross

Gibson is alert to how Matthew shapes his narrative to create theological emphasis. In the section on the crisis in Galilee, he observes that Jesus' prediction of his suffering is set against the backdrop of Peter's confession and the Transfiguration. Gibson writes that the coming glory is “a golden background to the dark prospect immediately before them.” He notes the contrast between the present weakness of the Son of man and his future coming “in the glory of His Father with His angels.” The exposition traces a deliberate movement from the cross to the glory, and Gibson points out that Jesus assures his disciples that “before very long, there shall be manifest tokens of the coming glory.” This sensitivity to narrative sequence—how Matthew juxtaposes prediction and promise—is a hallmark of Gibson's approach.

The Leper, the Centurion, and the Storm

In the section on the signs of the kingdom (Matthew 8–9), Gibson treats each miracle as a distinct vignette, giving each a short heading: “The Leper,” “The Centurion's Servant,” “The Storm Stilled,” and so on. His method is to focus on the dialogue within each episode, drawing out what the words of Jesus and the responses of the participants reveal about faith and authority. For the centurion, Gibson highlights the officer's recognition of Jesus' authority over sickness as analogous to his own authority over soldiers. For the stilling of the storm, he notes the disciples' fear and Jesus' question, “Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?” Gibson does not allegorize the miracles but treats them as concrete demonstrations of the kingdom's power, each one illustrating a different aspect of Christ's person and mission.

Gibson's commentary is best read alongside the Gospel text, as he assumes the reader has the biblical passage open. His strength lies in his ability to isolate a single phrase or grammatical construction and show its theological weight. Readers interested in homiletical exposition or in the history of British evangelical interpretation will find this volume a clear example of its genre. The work does not engage with modern critical questions about Matthean authorship or sources, but it offers a coherent, pastorally oriented reading of the Gospel's message.

There are moments when Gibson's quiet insistence on the kingdom's inner cost lingers, less like a sermon and more like a memory of a conversation. It made me recall another volume, one that probes what we quietly exchange for that kingdom. Modern Substitutes for Christianity — Text and Context felt like a familiar echo of that same, gentle concern.