THE gracious Master had spent a long day teaching the children of men the marvels of God’s love, and healing their sick. He had given to His wondering followers a foretaste of the time when sorrow shall be banished from His kingdom; which, dear reader, we rejoice to know is presently to be established on this earth. And the evening came, the sun once more went down behind the hills of Judea, and then immediately a marvelous scene took place—such an one as this earth had never before witnessed. From villages and towns, down the steep mountain paths, or along the easier roads, numbers of people appeared—mothers carrying their sick babes; children bearing their dying parents; and, more strange sight still, strong men leading, or, perhaps, dragging, miserable creatures possessed with devils. Verily, it was a strange scene. And what meant the stir? What was the mighty impulse which drew forth these companies laden with sorrow? Whither were they bending their steps, and at what center were they going to lay down their accumulated misery? Laden with sorrow, did we say? Ah! sure indeed, that mother with her dying babe in her bosom bears her burden of grief upon her breast, but there is hope, aye, more than hope within her heart; she knows that if she can but reach her destination she shall carry home her child in ruddy health. And those young men, in whose arms their father lies wearily and heavily, and upon whose steps the sick man’s wife follows so tenderly, is it merely loving grief that weighs them down as they urge on their steps? No; faith’s certainty energizes them, for they know that all shall be well with them in a few more moments, and thus nerved they carry their precious load, and cheer one another. “But a few more steps and our father will live again.”
What does it all mean? This strange sight, these stranger hopes! Mark, for the companies bearing their sick are all drawing close together; they are nearing the same spot. Awaiting them there is a Man, such an One as this earth never before beheld. It is He of whom prophets witnessed, whose coming, God for centuries had foretold. In His hand is perfect power over every sickness, every sorrow, and all Satan’s intrusive force obeys His mighty word; yet, in His heart is compassion so tender, love so deep, that He feels for each sufferer, and enters into every pang he or she feels even as if all the infirmity and the sickness were His own! It is Jesus!
“He cast out the spirits with His word, and healed all that were sick: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of Esaias the prophet, saying, Himself took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses.” (Matt. 8:16, 1716When the even was come, they brought unto him many that were possessed with devils: and he cast out the spirits with his word, and healed all that were sick: 17That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying, Himself took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses. (Matthew 8:16‑17)).
What a lovely unfolding of Him we have in these few words. What a combination of Almighty power and tenderest compassion. And we have to do today with the selfsame Person. He has indeed gone through death, but for us, and has entered the bright glory yonder, but for us, and is now within the Father’s house, and for us. He is the same today as yesterday; His tender love, His Almighty power, and His unutterable sympathy are unchanged. Surely, in this selfish and suffering world, they are happy who have the heart of Jesus for their support. We need more than power; we need kindness amid earth’s sorrows, and we have both in Jesus. True, in this season, before His Father brings in the kingdom, and before the day when His will shall be done on earth, even as it is in heaven, the Lord does not heal bodily infirmity, as He did when here upon earth. His healings related to the kingdom upon earth, and now He is in the Father’s house, and His dealings with His people relate to that bright place. Still, be the sorrow what it may, or the trial what it will, if we can bring it to Jesus we shall have His sympathy.
And can we but own that the fulfilled saying of the prophet was more wonderful than the healing power of the Lord? For the sympathy of Jesus touches chords of the human heart in a way that power only could never do. We marvel at the sympathy, we tremble at the power.
We may add, dear Christian reader, that our Christianity must be after the pattern of Christ. He is in heaven, and heaven is our home; but we are on earth, and while here, we are called to walk even as He walked. Selfish, heartless Christians, though they may talk of heaven, are a disgrace to their loving and tender-hearted Master. Ever so faint a display of the heart of Christ will attract some to the Master; but fine words about Him without the love, will be merely as the sounding brass or the tinkling cymbal.
H. F. W.