The division of the Bible into chapters and verses, which is said to have been accomplished by the learned editor R. Stephens “inter equitandum,” while he was journeying from place to place, may not be ideal, and is certainly unfortunate here and there; but no one can question the felicity of the arrangement that makes Mark 9 a separate chapter. It is a perfect and majestic whole, peculiarly vivid in this the most graphic of the four Gospels. It has been called a picture of heaven, earth, and hell. It is full of divine dignity and mystery, of attractive beauty and grace too, as also of awful solemnity in the closing verses. One only shines out in His unapproachable perfection whether on the Holy Mount or on the troubled plain. Of the rest, those other than the Savior who come before us, one only wins our Lord's marked approval. It was not one of the twelve. On the contrary they were hasty to resent what they doubtless considered the irregular activity of the man who cast out demons in the Savior's name. A certain mistaken zeal for their Master very probably mingled with their motives; but they had to learn, as we have, how constantly the flesh is prone to act on the side of exclusiveness or of license. And who may presume to say which is the graver fault always?
It is interesting to note that here it is John who voices the feeling of the disciples in forbidding the man. Usually, as we know, it is Peter who is spokesman, which may have led some to overlook the energetic character of the former. The truth is that the apostle John, like all who really love much, had a very ardent and strenuous nature. No weakling was he, nor was it in words of gentle irony that our Lord called James and John “Sons of thunder.” It was well to be a Boanerges. The Lord, who had endowed them with their several ability, and given them a gift suitable to that ability, sealed it, so to speak, when (see Mark 3:17) he gave them that striking appellation. It was no word of reproach, as a well-known writer (Mark Guy Pearse) suggests. Who could thunder as Christ Himself? He always thundered at the right moment; the disciples, like ourselves, and like John on this occasion, at the wrong time. Had it been a question of the Lord's Person, had the man, instead of casting out demons in Christ's name, ascribed the Lord's expulsion of demons to Beelzebub, this had been another thing. For he that is not with Christ, where His divine glory is assailed—ay, and His human perfectness likewise—is against Him, and scatters abroad, (Matt. 12:30).
But here it was no question of disloyalty to Christ, but rather of one, who was true to the light, no doubt the growing light, he had, and who, we may confidently believe, was afterward brought into a place of greater nearness practically. But mark how no outward connection with Christ or correct ecclesiastical standing in itself conveys intelligence or place, at least until self is judged.
Often a less intelligent soul, at least one less enlightened, is the more devoted saint. It should not be so, no doubt; but there is always the danger of being puffed up by knowledge, whereas love builds up. In no wise is a slight intended on the importance of true ecclesiastical position; but it is well not to forget the privilege of owning all that is according to Christ.
Yet this is to dwell perhaps too prominently on a particular point to be in place in a brief meditation on the chapter generally. First, then we have the scene of dazzling glory to which the three chosen disciples were admitted, which they so feebly apprehended, and which so little influenced them, that not only did they subsequently grievously misapprehend the Lord's mind (ver. 38), but actually disputed one with another who should be greatest—clearly a lower descent still. How great the contrast between the Master and the disciples! The transfigured Lord in His robes of light speaks of His approaching death, of His Exodus (see Luke 9); the disciples, eager for a little brief authority, discuss who shall be leader, amid the ordinary conditions of their humanity.
But we have another picture. The Lord has come down from the mountain, and we note a circumstance recorded by Mark alone of the synoptists, “Straightway all the people, when they beheld him, were greatly amazed, and running to him saluted him” (ver. 15). It would seem that the glory still lingered about the Lord's face. Not only is this a probable explanation of the eagerness of the crowd to approach our Lord, but it points an exquisite contrast with what occurred of old when the great Lawgiver descended from Mount Sinai. Then Moses had to veil his face. It was law, not grace; and the people, at any rate, could not look upon that searching radiance. Here they are irresistibly attracted; but what a scene for the Savior after the brief sojourn on the mount! No longer the calm intercourse of the Christ with two chosen witnesses, one of whom His own hand had buried, the other raised without dying, but a scene of dire distress. And the Savior is graciously at hand to supply the need, typical of what He will do when He ushers in the millennial day. Then His own will haply be less impotent than they showed themselves now. For, while full of their own consequence, they were powerless to heal the sufferer who had been brought to them. But the Lord is there, back again in the scene of sorrow and distress. Let us listen to the gracious words that fell on this occasion from His lips.
Evidently the father of the demoniac comes next to the man who cast out demons in Christ's name. At first it is true he seems not to have been sure if our Lord could heal his son. The case was of long standing (ver. 21), and seemed inveterate; but our Lord at once tells him that the real question is, not whether He can heal, but whether the father can believe. That was where the doubtfulness lay. Then the man makes his well-known confession. How grateful to the Lord who had just before deplored the unfaithfulness of that generation! May we not say it must have been more acutely painful to Him as just coming down from the mount of His transfiguration? For, needless to add, He estimated at its true worth the momentary interest of the multitude. He knew what was in man.
A word only on the closing verses. The most solemn words as to future punishment are the Savior's words. The thrice repeated refrain is indeed, as one has said, a “solemn dirge “ What writings of philosopher or sage can compare with these burning sentences! Then we have two verses of the deepest importance, setting forth much vital truth under symbolic terms, the fire which must salt every child of Adam, now or hereafter; the salt that typifies the preserving power of the grace that delivers and saves. R.B.