If there be one thing more than another that one desires for oneself first of all, and for all the beloved children of God, it is that constancy of affection toward the Person of the Lord Jesus Christ, our precious Savior, that is implied in the word "devotedness".
In accomplishing the mighty work of redemption that has glorified God and saved our souls, the blessed Lord has acquired a quite peculiar claim over His ransomed people; and we may say in truth that He has endured the untold sufferings of Calvary, not merely that we might be delivered from going down to the pit, but that He Himself might become the commanding and supreme Object of our renewed affections. This blessed and happy response will be rendered assuredly without hindrance in the eternal day that awaits us beyond this valley of the shadow of death; indeed in the Apocalypse, when the door of heaven is opened (chap. 4), and the whole scene is expanded before the gaze of the beloved disciple, it is to present the fact that in spite of the outside place afforded Him in the closing epoch of Christendom (Rev. 3:20), the Lamb is the supreme Object of heavenly worship and delight.
But that which is specially grateful to His heart today, is that in the time of His "kingdom and patience" He should be to us the governing motive of our lives; and when our souls have learned somewhat of His worthiness and His glory, if our eyes but rest upon that face whence there shines the light of the knowledge of the glory of God (2 Cor. 4), it is not difficult to count all things but loss. "The glory of that light" fills the vision of our souls, the eyes of our hearts, as it did that of Paul the Apostle. May God disclose this fact more clearly to each one of us.
The voice of the King's beloved in the "Song of Songs" expresses this attachment to His Person, and joy in His presence when, as brought into His chamber (S. of Sol. 1:4), and beholding Him at His table, her spikenard breathes forth her thanks and worship in grateful perfume (v. 12). She may have much to discover of her own dullness and unworthiness, but His faithful love triumph's in the end, and He becomes the chiefest among ten thousand (chap. 5:10) while she learns the wondrous secret, "I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me." Chap. 7:10. The love that "Many waters cannot quench, neither can the floods drown it," has overcome every obstacle.
John 12 contains the well-known scene in the house of Bethany where that heavenly Stranger, soon to part out of this world and go to the Father, reclines at table in the circle dearly loved of His heart. It was six days before the Passover, when the blood of that Lamb whom God had provided (Gen. 22:8; John 1:29)—that "precious blood"—should be shed, and the grave that had opened for Lazarus should close upon the Son of God. With what joy had those two devoted sisters received again their brother from the dead, and what feelings of thankfulness and gratitude would animate the reunited household as their Lord and Master, who had borne and dissipated their sorrow, came into their midst to share their joy! It is not now the King at His own table, but the King in lowly guise, a stranger in the creation of His own hands, come down to be the Man of Sorrows and to take a place in perfect grace at the table of those who had been in sorrow, that He might win the confidence of their hearts.
How blessedly fruitful, in at least one case, had been His stoop, the sequel proved; for there in the presence of the joy of Lazarus, the service of Martha, the interest of the disciples, and the covetousness of Judas, one heart is moved in its deepest depths. To Mary, the thought that overpowered all else within her was that the One she had learned to love and reverence was going to death. Of what value was even the tenderest tie of earth, or its most precious objects, if He, the Lord of all, the Resurrection and the Life, should find but a tomb. For her the hopes of earth closed forever in the death of Jesus, and she dedicates to Him, to those blessed feet, her very costly spikenard; for all lost its worth in the estimation of the heart that knew that Christ was to be numbered with the dead. To see how very far distant from her apprehension of the moment was the discernment of the others, one has only to read the selfish objection of Judas (into which alas! the eleven fell also—compare Matt. 26:8), and the divine approbation and vindication of the Lord Himself. "Against the day of My burying hath she kept this," is the proof that if all should misinterpret the deed, Jesus understood it. No wonder that the whole house was filled with the spikenard's odor, for Mary had chosen "that good part," the self-effacement that could be willing that all she held as of value here below might descend with Him to the tomb.
Such is the beauteous fruit in its season that the love of Jesus produces in this barren world from hearts like our own. So is manifested that "first love" of the saint, which would go even to death (John 13:37) for the sake of his Lord and Master. Yet how we need to be sustained by His power in such a path of devotedness, else we lose our first love as did Ephesus (Rev. 2:4); or like Peter learn by sad and bitter experience that except we are energized by a force more powerful than natural affection, our love will quickly cool, and we shall deeply dishonor Christ. But, thank God, He keeps the feet of His saints (1 Sam. 2:9; Pro. 2:8), and is able to keep us from falling (Jude 24). By His intercession on high, and the washing of our feet by the way, our gracious High Priest is able to sustain our renewed affections for His Person, and maintain the freshness and bloom of "first love."
In none of His saints is this power more manifested than in Paul the Apostle when from his Roman dungeon he writes to his beloved Philippians, being now "such a one as Paul the aged." Well-nigh thirty years had come and gone since the "glory of that light" revealed a Savior to his soul, years of unremitting toil and suffering, and "beside those things that are without... the care of all the churches" (2 Cor. 11:23-28). Yet now, arrived at the end of his course, he is separated from those individuals and assemblies so dearly loved; and the devoted servant learns about this season that all Asia had turned away from him, and even among those who had been a joy and refreshment to him, some were ashamed of his chain as "the prisoner of the Lord" (2 Tim. 1:15, 16; Eph. 4:1). Yet in his letter to the Philippians we find no vain repinings, no regrets. He has counted the cost, and in chapter 3 the aged man says, while recalling what he had done so long before (v. 7.) "What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ." He goes over the list of what he took pride in—not bad things, but things that the flesh could glory in, made more attractive by this, that though they belonged to an economy that had passed away, they came from God Himself, Paul knew their value, he had felt their power, yet so had he learned Christ that there is no flinching now in his soul. "Yea, doubtless," he says, "and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things." v. 8. I seem to see him there, his box of spikenard (as it were) in his hands, devoting to that glorified Lord all that he held precious. All had descended with Him to the grave, and the desire of his soul now is that he may "if any way... arrive at the resurrection from among the dead" (v. 11; J.N.D. Trans.), a place with Christ in a deathless scene of glory. And if that prisoner could find in the offering sent through Epaphroditus "an odor of a sweet smell," we may say that for the heart of Christ that prison cell was "filled with the odor of the ointment."
May the Lord teach us what this devotedness is that dedicates all to Him as an intelligent service (Rom. 12:1).