Chapter 10

From: Fire: From Loneliness to Relationship

• 11 min. read • grade level: 7

RELATIONSHIP AND HOME

"I ascend unto my Father and your Father."—John 20:17¹⁷Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God. (John 20:17). "And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that. behold, a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder: and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven." -2 Kings 2:11¹¹And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. (2 Kings 2:11).

DO you know what makes a home? Perhaps not; for every habitation on earth is not a home. I went once to see a very large house in the country; it stood in its own grounds surrounded by beautiful trees. Pleasant lawns if soft green grass lay around it, and smooth gravel paths wound about amidst clumps of evergreen shrubs and flower-beds, bright with many colored flowers. Inside that house there were large and airy rooms that were carefully furnished with every necessary comfort; and upstairs there were long dormitories filled with rows upon rows of little beds-pretty little beds, all of them scrupulously clean and tidy. Do you ask, Who lived there? Children lived there. I saw children everywhere; nicely dressed, well fed children. Some of them were learning their lessons in the airy schoolrooms, some of them were running about in the pleasant gardens, and some of them—oh, sad sight!—little baby children, were playing with pretty toys upon the nursery floors.

Do you say, Why was it a sad sight? Because that large house with all its comforts was not a home. It was called, and rightly called, "an orphan asylum." You might search its stately chambers, its many corridors, its pleasant gardens, but you would find no father there, no tender loving mother; there was no common bond of relationship between those children. They ate together, they played together, they studied together, but they were not brothers and sisters knit together by the common bond of a parent's love. When the time came for them to leave the kindly shelter of that large habitation, they would each of them have to go forth alone upon the struggle of life, unsheltered by a father's watchful care, unsoftened by a mother's tender sympathy. That large house, with all its comforts, its food, and its shelter, was not a home.

It was on one cold and snowy day in December that, after wrapping my warmest cloak about me, I issued forth to visit some of my poorer friends. The one to whom I most wished to go that day was a caretaker in a large empty house, about half a mile from where I lived. I soon reached the gate, and fearful of trusting myself to the broken steps that led up to the front door, I crossed the little tangled overgrown garden and crept down the area steps to the servants' entrance. My knock was soon answered by a thin, worn-looking woman, who at once asked me in, and ushered me through the outer passage with the damp stains on the walls, into the kitchen where she lived. The ceiling was low, the walls were smoke begrimed; round the wainscot the damp stained the plaster, the window was almost entirely below the ground, and the furniture was poor and scanty. As the owner of that not very desirable habitation offered me a chair she apologized for tile general appearance of confusion in the room by saying, "I am very busy to-day, the holidays will soon be here, and I am getting everything clean and tidy, for my children are coming home,"

"Home!" Was that a home? That poor cellar-like room with its tattered carpet, its half empty cupboard, its tiny fire? Those children were being educated at the workhouse school, that mother was a widow who earned a scanty living and kept things together by laboring hard at her needle. Yet her worn face brightened as she talked of the holidays, and "the home" was being prepared for the returning children.

A few days later and I walked again into that abode; and if I had doubted before its right to that sweet name of "home," I could doubt it no longer; for the children had returned, and when I looked upon their beaming faces as they nestled round their mother, I could not doubt for an instant but that that half- furnished cellar claimed a title which could never belong to the grand house in the country with all its comforts. It was a true home. What made the difference? It was the presence of that pale, worn, weary mother that made the difference. She was the center that drew together in the fond embrace of her love those children's hearts. They were not orphans, they had a mother, and in her presence was their home. I sat me down at the deal table, beside the scanty fire, but I felt that though I was in the habitation, I was not in the home. No! "home" is a charmed sphere, a sacred circle, belonging to the parent and the child, into which neither friend nor servant can ever enter.

To be in the home you must not only be one of the stock, but you must know One who claims the name of "Father," and you must know the Father's heart.

A gentleman whom I once knew asked this question of a class of girls at a boarding-school: "If I could offer to each one of you what you would most desire to have, what would you each choose?" There was a pause-a pause during which each young heart pondered over what it most desired to possess. Then one named one thing, and one another, till a little orphan girl said sadly, "If I might choose, I would choose a mother." Deep down in that poor bereaved heart there was a yearning for relationship and for home—a relationship, poor child, which could never more be for her on earth. So now within the orphan soul, as it enters into life on the shore of victory, with all the radiance of Mount Zion's perpetual Grace around it for evermore—so now within it rises a strange, deep yearning to know and to be with the God it loves. It is yearning to know its Father and its Home.

Do you remember that when the Lord Jesus Christ was about to leave this world by death, He told His sorrowing disciples that He would not leave them "orphans" (marg.), and that He was going to prepare a place for them in the "Father's house"? Was He going to take us in as servants? No. As friends? No. In the purpose of God, before the earth was, it had been settled that He should bring us in as sons. "Having predestinated us unto the adoption of children—son-ship—by Jesus Christ unto Himself" (Eph. 1:5⁵Having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, (Ephesians 1:5)).

It was not only into the habitation we were to be taken, but into the Home. How could that be? There could be no Home without a Father? Philip said almost directly, "Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us." " Have I been so long time with you, "answered the Lord Jesus," and yet halt thou not known Me, Philip? He that hath seen Me hath seen the Father, and how sayest thou then, Show us the Father? "(John 14:8, 9⁸Philip saith unto him, Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth us. ⁹Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip? he that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayest thou then, Show us the Father? (John 14:8‑9)). And how long a time in our soul's history is it generally before we learn that the Savior whom we love and trust is the expression of the Father's love to us! He said to them," I will not leave you orphans "(marg.)." I will come to you" (John 14:18¹⁸I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. (John 14:18)). And when He rose from the dead He said, "I ascend unto My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God" (John 20:17¹⁷Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God. (John 20:17)). Christ declared the Father's Name to them, and when He left them and went to His Father, He received the long-promised gift of the Holy Spirit who came down, as we have seen, in Power and Fire to reveal the Father's heart to them and to us.

There comes a moment when the once orphan soul receives the revelation of sonship. It beholds itself as one with Christ in heaven by the Holy Spirit, and finds itself in all the blessed warmth of His relationship to the Father. For He is "the firstborn among many brethren" (Rom. 8:29²⁹For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren. (Romans 8:29)). Then with a sudden cry of reverent wonder and delight, it raises to its God the Spirit's cry of "Abba, Father." For "ye have received the Spirit of sonship, whereby we cry, Abba, Father" (Rom. 8:15¹⁵For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. (Romans 8:15)). It is all a matter of the affections. If the Spirit of adoption, or sonship, is within your heart, it will, it must, glow with the love suited to the relationship that exists. If you do not know it, I cannot describe it to you.

The Holy Spirit alone can bring that cry of "Abba" welling up from your inmost being. And the Father, known by the Spirit, what wait you for? But up the ladder of light that streams from the opened heavens, wrapt in the Spirit's power of whirlwind and Fire, you enter in spirit the Father's home on high in answer to that Voice that said, "Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am." "In Christ," and "of Christ," and "as Christ," and "one with Christ," you are swept into the center of those Divine affections which surround Him. In the warmth and the light and song of that radiant Home you find yourself seated amidst an adoring multitude, of whom you are one; a blood-washed company, a race of sons.

And what do we ponder there in wondering awe? There we "joy in God," lost in that love which "passeth knowledge." There we gaze in awe at the stupendous purpose that gave us—each named by name—as the Father's love-gift to the Son ere time was, and we behold ourselves the tribute of the Son's love to the Father, as He ushers us into that high presence-chamber set in eternity as a company of sons—the fruit of the travail of His soul—for the satisfaction of the Father's love. Divine affections thus radiate around us, and we find ourselves the vessel for the display of the glory of His purpose "throughout all ages," while we ever raise the glad song "unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and hath made us kings and priests to God, and His Father; to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen" (Rev. 1:5, 6⁵And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, ⁶And hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen. (Revelation 1:5‑6)). Thus as "in Christ" and as "of Christ" we find our spirit's home, as sons, in the very heart of the Fire-circled "I Am."

Farewell, gloomy Land of Loneliness! Death-girdled shore; where moans the rising tide around the trembling captives, and over which quivers the lightning of judgment to come! Farewell! Nevermore shall the glad souls "in Christ" revisit thy gloomy abode—nevermore shall they moan in darkness and in dread, "What am I? Where am I? Where am I going?"

What are they? Children of God. Where are they? Feeding on the Tree of Life in the Paradise of God. Where are they going? Into the Father's Home as Sons.

And now, ere we close to-night, let me ask you one earnest question: Will you be content to live encamped for life with religious Self, under Sinai's burning Mount? Or will you be content to pause on this side Jordan, with the wives and children, the flocks and herds? Or will you let Him have His way with you, whose Fire and whose Light have come in through the avenue of Death to bring you unto Himself? " bare you on eagle's wings, "says Jehovah to Israel," and brought you unto Myself" (Deut.). "Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory which Thou hast given Me: for Thou lovedst Me before the foundation of the world" (John 17:24²⁴Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world. (John 17:24)). Is the prayer of Christ for us?

"Whom He justified, them He also glorified" (Rom. 8:30³⁰Moreover whom he did predestinate, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified. (Romans 8:30)).

" And is it so? I shall be like Thy Son!

Is this the grace which He for me has won?

Father of Glory! Thought beyond all thought—

In glory to His own blest likeness brought.

Oh! Jesus Lord, who loved me like to Thee?

Fruit of Thy work. With Thee, too, there to see

Thy glory, Lord, while endless ages roll;

Myself the prize and travail of Thy soul.

Yet it must be. Thy love had not its rest

Were Thy redeemed not with Thee fully blest:

That love that gives not as the world, but shares