As has been observed already, that which in such an especial way characterized the apostle, was his being “apprehended of Christ.” As an historical fact it was done on his way to Damascus, but it served to imprint upon his whole being and character that particular stamp which distinguishes him from other servants of the Lord. Christ, the glorified Head of the church, His body, at the right hand of God is the glorious subject of his testimony as well as of his individual walk. The apostle's heart and mind were directed towards one point only—Jesus, the once persecuted and rejected Nazaraean there above. Not only Paul's outward man, but his whole inner, yea, his inmost man, heart, mind and spirit, had been “apprehended” or laid hold of, by the glorified Christ. As the plant turns towards the sun, so all the powers and inclinations of the new man and of the resurrection life of Christ in the apostle turned towards the glorified Son of man, in the energy of the Spirit of glory that rested upon him and filled him. As the magnet needle, though trembling through the motions of the vessel, invariably tarns towards the pole, so the heart of the apostle of the church turned to its glorified Head. That unique goal, surpassingly beautiful and all glorious for which he had been “apprehended,” he sought to apprehend although he had not yet apprehended it. What formerly he had been, when Saul—a zealous upright Israelite, pursuing a certain aim with his whole heart and with unabating zeal, serving God from his forefathers with a pure conscience—he was now in a better and infinitely higher sense as the servant of Christ and apostle of the church. In the third chapter of his Epistle to his beloved Philippians, that goal which he pursued, is most distinctly put before us.
What had appeared to be a gain to Saul, the zealous Israelite, was counted by Paul not only nothing, but positive loss. All those religious privileges, connected with the dispensation of the law of Moses, granted by God to His earthly people, invested as they were with the halo of the grand historical recollections of more than fifteen centuries, were now for Paul nothing but “flesh” —religious respectable flesh in the splendid, gorgeous, apparel of the religious ceremonies of Judaism, but after all nothing but “flesh.” What formerly had appeared to him as “gain” the apostle of glory counted but “loss” “for Christ,” the glorified “Jesus,” Who had appeared to him on his way to Damascus. Neither was that depreciation of all his former religious privileges and attainments with Paul a mere transitory sentiment in the first zeal of conversion. He continued to count all these things “loss” (Phil. 3:88Yea doubtless, 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, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, (Philippians 3:8)), the more he knew the now glorious, all gracious, all beauteous Person of Him Whose name had once filled him with hatred. Mark the longer period in ver. 8. In ver. 7 he counted it all “loss” “for Christ.” But in ver. 8 he continues “Yea, doubtless and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord.” When a strong wind arises, high and long billows arise in the sea; a gentle breeze only produces low and short wavelets. It is the same with spiritual motions. When our mind is engaged with a beautiful and interesting object, or the heart moved by a mighty and elevating idea, we express ourselves in longer periods than in speaking or writing of ordinary things. We find this for instance in the first chapter of Paul's Epistle to the Ephesians, where the apostle, moved by the Spirit of God, pours out to the saints in Ephesus and to the faithful in Christ Jesus his heart, filled with the thoughts of God's wondrous counsels and blessings in Christ Jesus. The whole of the chapter (excepting the usual apostolic benediction in ver. 1 & 2), consists of only two periods. The first of them (ver. 3 -14) contains no less than 12 verses, and the second (ver. 15-23) nine verses.
But the apostle does not content himself with saying that he continues to count as loss all things that were formerly gain to him, but he adds, “For Whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ.” The polished and learned man, brought up at the feet of Gamaliel, cannot find words strong enough to express his thorough abandonment of Judaism and of all its boasted privileges. The more he perceived the excellency and perfection of Jesus Christ, beholding with unvailed face the glory of the Lord, the more everything that had been formerly such a gain to him in the eyes of his co-religionists, appeared to him in the light of that glory not only “loss,” but “dung,” that he might “win Christ, and be found in Him “and “know Him.”
This reminds me of a dear saint, who followed the apostle, as he had followed his heavenly pattern, who during her earthly career always set the Lord before her. The Christian lady referred to, possessed a marvelous memory and was so familiar with her bible, that she was able at once to point out any passage in the Scriptures referred to, often not only the chapter, but chapter and verse. And the word of God was not merely stored up in the memory of the head, but she had taken care to treasure it up in the memory of her heart, like the Lord's blessed mother, for she was a true Mary, the Lord's devoted handmaid. But the constant admiration by unwise friends, of her wonderful memory had perhaps impaired in her that all-important quality of real Christian humility: or was it that it pleased God to give to her, like to His apostle of old, a “thorn in the flesh,” to prevent spiritual pride? However this may be, she was laid on a bed of sickness for many years, which at last impaired her memory to such a degree that the hitherto well known passages of Scripture—chapters and verses—began to be erased from the tablets of her memory. But this infirmity could neither reach nor diminish the “good treasure of her heart.” This very Epistle of Paul to the Philippians had been one of her favorite portions in the New Testament. So that now, the memory of the heart lasting longer than that of the head, and supporting the weakness of the latter, this epistle remained longest in her memory. But gradually even this portion began to vanish away, i.e. the words though not the contents; and she retained only these words, “that I may win Christ” — “and be found in Him” — “that I may know Him.” At last, having lost nearly all her memory, there remained on its empty tablet—its “tabula rasa,” only one single word engraved, the word— “HIM.” — “That's enough,” she said, “I have Him,” and nobody can take Him away from me, nor me from Him.”
“He,” Christ—was the sum of all her scriptural knowledge. All those Bible passages, formerly stored in the upper chamber of her memory, were now in the good treasure of the chamber of her heart, condensed in that one word, “Him” — “Christ.”
Is not this the right way of reading our Bibles, Christian reader? On the last page of holy writ, we find as the sum of the whole word of God, these two words, “I Jesus.” The Spirit and the Bride answer, “Come.” And at the close the Lord says, “Yea, I come quickly.” Can we, with His disciple, add in truth, “Amen, come, Lord Jesus”? We know that the Spirit and the Bride, His true church, as such, ever say, “Come” (ver. 17). But in ver. 20, it is John, as an individual believer, who says, “Amen, come Lord Jesus!” Can we add, in truth, our “Amen” to his? Only in the measure as Christ's ever blessed Person is our object, and we “rejoice in the Lord always,” keeping our consciences sweet in His holy, yet, gracious presence, shall we be able to do so. Only in His presence can the hope of His coming again, have the power and comfort of a truly realized hope. The words, “I Jesus,” and, “Yea, I come quickly,” are in close connection.
Is it not the same in common life? Suppose, some one has gone into a far country, to prepare for his wife and family a better home. Every month brings them letters, each line breathing truest kindness and interest in the welfare of his own he has left behind, and proving that time and distance have not diminished his love and care for his own, and that he is ever the same loving and tenderly careful husband and father. Suddenly a telegram arrives with the news, “I come to-morrow to fetch you!” What an outburst of jubilant rapture will those few words, “I come to-morrow,” call forth from his own! They know what he is for them; therefore they feel what it means, when he says, “I come!”
And how comes it, beloved, that the hope of our Lord's coming again, which we may expect every day, nay, every moment, has so little effect upon our hearts, our consciences, and our walk? How is it, that this precious portion of Christian truth, which formerly used to occupy the chief place in any meetings for Christian edification, so often recedes into the far background, so that for weeks, nay, even for months, scarcely any reference even is made to it? It used not to be so. What has caused this sad change which has come upon us? Is it not this, that the eyes of our minds, and, in consequence, our hearts and thoughts, have turned away from the glorified One at the right hand of God, and from His all-glorious, all-gracious, all-beauteous, and altogether lovely Person, and so been turned away to earthly things? We have ceased to realize what He is, “Jesus Christ, yesterday, to-day, and forever, the same.” Thus the hope of His coming again has lost its cheering, refreshing, comforting power as to the walk of so many believers, reducing them practically or doctrinally to the level of the world or of the religious “camp.” It was not so with the apostle of the church of glory, nor with his beloved Philippians, whom he called “his joy and his crown.”
(Continued from page 61.)
(To be continued.)