Christ, the Want of the Soul: Part 2

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But still the mind of the Lord Jesus is the same as it ever was; and when the last saint sits down beside Him on His throne, when the fullness of “It is finished” comes to be understood, and word is brought to the many mansions that death is dead, and that time is now no more—the redeemed, as they bow beneath that exceeding glory, will feel that it is still the glory of the Lamb that was slain—the glory of the “friend who sticketh closer than a brother.”
But the feelings of others towards the Lord Jesus are vague and comfortless, because they think of Him as a distant Savior—a Savior far away.
The Lord Jesus is omnipresent. He is not far from any one of us. His flame-bright eye follows the Lord's Day desecrator through the fields, and is on the drunkard as he reels into the tavern. It reads through the thought of the liar as he forges his falsehood, and looks through and through that heart which is full of its corrupt imaginings. It notices the worldly professor at the communion-table, and sees the unbeliever tumbling, night after night, into his prayerless bed. But though the Lord Jesus be everywhere present, He is present with His own people in a peculiar relation. He is with them as a Savior, a Shepherd, a Friend. His divine presence fills immensity; but His gracious, His loving and interested presence—His Savior-presence—is exclusively with His own. So constantly is the Lord Jesus present with His people that, in order to get the full good of it, they have only to remember the fact. From the moment that a man becomes a disciple of Christ, “Lo, I am with you alway” becomes a promise to that man—a promise, the performance of which is never for a moment suspended by the Savior, but the existence of which is often forgot by the disciple. But, forgotten or remembered, it is every moment true; and, to enjoy the full blessedness of this assurance you have only to remember to realize it. Sometimes, without any effort on your part, the conviction will dawn gently, or flash brightly, on the mind, and you will feel for a moment that Jesus is with you. But why not feel it alway? for it is always equally true.
“A glance from heaven, with sweet effect,
Sometimes my pensive spirit cheers;
But ere I can my thoughts collect,
As suddenly it disappears.
So lightning, in the gloom of night,
Affords a momentary day;
Disclosing objects full in sight,
Which, soon as seen, are snatch'd away.
The lightning's flash did not create
The opening prospect it reveard;
But only show'd the real state
Of what the darkness had conceal'd.”
These lightning-bursts, these momentary gleams, are just the hints of truth which the Holy Spirit darts into the mind from time to time, revealing matters as they really are. But we ought to recollect, that even during the dark the solid landscape has not vanished, but is only hid. And even so, when Christ's sensible presence is withdrawn, we should remember that He is near as ever, and it is the believer's wisdom to go on in the joyful strength of the assurance, “Lo, I am with you.”
Let me mention some benefits of Christ's perpetual presence with His people, especially when that presence is recollected and realized.
1. It is sanctifying. The company of an earthly friend is often influential on character. If he be one of a very pure and lofty mind, and, withal, one who has gained an ascendancy over your own soul, his very presence is a talisman. If an angry storm be gathering in your bosom or lowering in your countenance, the unexpected sunshine of his heavenly aspect will disperse it all again. If mean or unworthy thoughts were creeping into your mind, the interruption of his noble presence will chase them all away. If you are on the point of declining some difficult enterprise or evading some incumbent duty, the glance of his remonstrating eye will at once shame away your indolence or cowardice, and make you up and doing. So the Savior's recollected presence is a constant reproof and a ceaseless incentive to an affectionate disciple. Is he provoked? Is his temper ruffled? Is he about to come out with some sharp or cutting sarcasm, or to deal the indignant blow? One look from the Lamb of God will calm his spirit—will cool the flush of fury in his burning cheek -will make his swelling heart beat softly. Are you tempted? Do evil thoughts arise in your heart? One glance from these holy eyes can chase away a whole legion of demons, and banish back into the pit each foul suggestion. Are you seized with a lazy or selfish fit? Are you wearying of work which for some time you were doing, or refusing work which God is now giving you to do? Are you angry at an affliction, or averse to a given task? Lo! He puts to His hand and offers to help you with this cross, and you observe that it is a pierced hand; and He offers to go before and show you the way, and you notice that the foot-prints are bleeding, and it wounds you to think that you should have needed such an admonition. Or you have just come away from a scene of guilt-from a company where you have denied Him—where you have just been saying by your conduct, by your silence, or your words, “I know not the man “; and as you encounter the eye of Jesus, whom they are leading away to crucify, O Peter, do you not go forth and weep bitterly?
2. Christ's presence is sustaining. The apostles were wonderfully calm and collected men. People, considering that they were, many of them, unlearned and ignorant, were amazed at their dignified composure in most difficult circumstances. It was scarcely possible to alarm or agitate them. When brought before kings and rulers, it was usually their judges who trembled, but they themselves were tranquil. And Paul tells us the secret of it. When he himself was brought before Caesar it was an agitating occasion. Nero was a cruel prince, and the people looked on his palace much as they would have looked on a leopard's den. An order has arrived to bring the Galilean prisoner to the emperor's judgment-hall. The apostle has just time to warn a few friends, and like enough they came and condoled with him; but they thought it prudent not to go with him into court. It might compromise their own safety, and it could do him no effectual good; and he did not urge them. The soldiers arrived, and he went away cheerily with them-the old weather-beaten man-without his cloak, for he had left it at Troas; without his friends, for he had left them behind at his own hired house—as forlorn as ever prisoner stood before Caesar. And how was it that the infirm old man passed, with so serene a look, the clashing swords and scowling sentries at the palace-front? How was it that he trod the gloomy gateway with a step so full of merry innocence and martyr-zeal, and never noticed Nero's lions snuffling and howling in their hungry den? And how was it that in the dim and dangerous presence chamber, where cruelty sat upon the throne of luxury,-how was it that, with that wolf upon the judgment-seat and those bloodhounds all around him-with none but pagans present, and not one believing friend to bear him company—how was it, O Paul! that in such an hour of peril, instead of pleading not guilty, and falling down on suppliant knees, thou didst commit the very crime they charged against thee—the crime of loyalty to Jesus—and urge Christ's claims on Caesar? Why, the secret of this strange courage “At my first answer no man stood with me, but all forsook me"; was, notwithstanding, THE LORD stood with me and strengthened me, that by me the preaching might be fully known, and that all the Gentiles might hear; and I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion.”
And you, my friends, will all be brought into agitating circumstances. It is not likely that it will be said to you, “Fear not, for thou must stand before Caesar.” But you may be arraigned before terrible tribunals—the tribunal of public opinion—the tribunal of private affection—the tribunal of worldly interest—for Christ's name's sake. From time to time you may be constrained to pass through ordeals which will make you understand how Paul felt when passing in at the palace-gate. When called to give your testimony for Christ, the flesh may be weak, and the willing word may be like to expire in your choking utterance. Worldly wisdom may beckon you back, and, like Paul's fearful friends, cautious or carnal Christians may refuse to support you. It is not Nero's hall, but a quiet parlor you are entering; but before you come out again you may be a poor man, or a friendless one. The Yes or No of one faithful moment may have spurned the ladder of promotion from under your feet, and dashed your brightest hopes on this side the grave.
(Continued)
(To be continued)
J. H.