Read Matt. 14:1-21; Mark 6:30-44
In these two parallel scriptures we are presented with two distinct conditions of heart, which both find their answer in the sympathy and grace of Jesus. Let us look closely at them, and may the Holy Ghost enable us to gather up and bear away their precious teaching!
It was, no doubt, a moment of deep sorrow to John's disciples when their master had fallen by the sword of Herod -when the one on whom they had been accustomed to lean, and from whose lips they had been wont to drink instruction, was taken from them after such a fashion. This, we may well believe, was indeed a moment of gloom and desolation to the followers of John.
But there was One to whom they could come in their sorrow, and into whose ear they could pour their tale of grief—One of whom their master had spoken, to whom he had pointed, and of whom he had said, "He must increase, but I must decrease." To Him the bereaved disciples betook themselves, as we read, they "came, and took up the body, and buried it, and went and told Jesus." Matt. 14:12. This was the very best thing they could have done. There was not another heart on earth in which they could have found such a response as in the heart-the tender, loving heart—of Jesus. His sympathy was perfect. He knew all about their sorrow. He knew their loss and how they were feeling it. Wherefore, they acted wisely when they "went and told Jesus." His ear was ever open, and His heart ever at leisure to soothe and sympathize. He perfectly exemplified the precept afterward embodied in the words of the Holy Ghost, "Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." Rom. 12:15.
And oh! who can tell the worth of genuine sympathy? Who can declare the value of having one who can really make your joys and sorrows his own? Thank God! we have such a One in the blessed Lord Jesus Christ; and although we cannot see Him with the bodily eye, yet can faith use Him, in all the preciousness and power of His perfect sympathy. We can, if only our faith is simple and childlike, go from the tomb where we have just deposited the remains of some fondly cherished object, to the feet of Jesus, and there pour out the anguish of a bereaved and desolate heart. We shall there meet no rude repulse, no heartless reproof for our folly and weakness in feeling so deeply. No; nor yet any clumsy effort to say something suitable, an awkward effort to put on some expression of condolence. Ah! no; Jesus knows how to sympathize with a heart that is crushed and bowed down beneath the heavy weight of sorrow. His is a perfect human heart. What a thought! What a privilege to have access, at all times, in all places, and under all circumstances, to a perfect, human heart! We may look in vain for this down here. Yes; look in vain, not merely in the world, but even in the Church. There may in many cases be a real desire to sympathize, but a total lack of capacity. I may find myself, in moments of sorrow, in company with one who knows nothing about my sorrow or the source thereof. How could he sympathize? And even though I should tell him, his heart might be so occupied with other things as to have no room and no leisure for me.
Not so with the perfect Man, Christ Jesus. He has both room and leisure for each and for all. No matter when, how, or with what you come, the heart of Jesus is always open. He will never repulse, never fail, never disappoint. If, therefore, we are in sorrow, what should we do? We should just do as the disciples of John did, go and tell Jesus. This, assuredly, is the right thing to do. Let us go straight from the tomb to the feet of Jesus. He will dry up our tears, soothe our sorrows, heal our wounds, and fill up our blanks.
We may now contemplate another condition of heart, as furnished by the twelve apostles on their return from a successful mission. "And the apostles gathered themselves together unto Jesus, and told Him all things, both what they had done, and what they had taught." Mark 6:30. Here we have not a case of sorrow and bereavement, but one of rejoicing and encouragement. The twelve made their way to Jesus to tell him of their success, just as the disciples of John made their way to Him in the moment of their loss. Jesus was equal to both. He could meet the heart that was crushed with sorrow, and He could meet the heart that was flushed with success. He knew how to control, to moderate, and to direct both the one and the other. BLESSINGS FOREVER BE UPON HIS HONORED NAME!
"And He said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat." Here then we are conducted to a point at which the moral glories of Christ shine out with uncommon luster and correct the selfishness of our poor narrow hearts. Here we are taught with unmistakable clearness that to make Jesus the depositary of our thoughts and feelings will never produce in us a spirit of haughty self sufficiency and independence, or a feeling of contempt for others. Quite the reverse. The more we have to do with Jesus, the more will our hearts be opened to meet the varied forms of human need which may present themselves to our view from day to day. It is when we come to Jesus and empty our whole hearts to Him, tell Him of our sorrows and our joys, and cast our whole burden at His feet, that we really learn how to feel for others.
There is great beauty and power in the words, "Come ye yourselves apart." He does not say, "Go ye." This would never do. There is no use in going apart into a desert place, if Jesus be not there to go to. To go into solitude without Jesus is but to make our cold, narrow hearts colder and narrower still. I may retire from the scene around me in chagrin and disappointment only to wrap myself up in impenetrable selfishness. I may fancy that my fellows have not made enough of me, and I may retire in order to make much of myself. I may make myself the center of my whole being, and thus become a cold-hearted, contracted, miserable creature. But when Jesus says "Come," the case is totally different. Our finest moral lessons are learned alone with Jesus. We cannot breathe the atmosphere of His presence without having our hearts expanded. If the apostles had gone into the desert without Jesus, they would, no doubt, have eaten the loaves and fishes themselves; but having gone with Jesus, they learned differently. He knew how to meet the need of a hungry multitude, as well as that of a company of sorrowing or rejoicing disciples. The sympathy and grace of Jesus are perfect. He can meet all. If one is sorrowful, he can go to Jesus; if he is happy, he can go to Jesus; if he is hungry, he can go to Jesus. We can bring everything to Jesus, for in Him all fullness dwells; and, blessed be His name, He never sends anyone empty away.
Not so, alas! with His poor disciples. How forbidding is their selfishness when viewed in the light of His magnificent grace! "And Jesus, when He came out, saw much people, and was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd: and He began to teach them many things." He had gone to a desert place to give His disciples rest; but no sooner does human need present itself than the deep flowing tide of compassion rolls forth from His tender heart.
"And when the day was now far spent, His disciples came unto Him, and said, This is a desert place, and now the time is far passed: send them away." What words to drop from the lips of men who had just returned from preaching the gospel! "Send them away." Ah! it is one thing to preach grace, and another thing to act it. No doubt, it is well to preach; but it is also well to act. Indeed, the preaching will be little worth if not combined with acting. It is well to instruct the ignorant, but it is also well to feed the hungry. The latter may involve more self-denial than the former. It may cost us nothing to preach, but it may cost us something to feed; and we do not like to have our private store intruded upon. The heart is ready to put forth its ten thousand objections: "What shall I do for myself? What will become of my family? We must act judiciously." These and similar thoughts the selfish heart can urge when a needy object presents itself.
"Send them away." What made the disciples say this? What was the real source of this selfish request? Simply unbelief. Had they only remembered that they had in their midst the One who of old had fed "six hundred thousand footmen," for forty years in the wilderness, they would have known that He would not send a hungry multitude away. Surely the same hand that had nourished such a host for so long a time could easily furnish a single meal for five thousand. This faith would reason; but, alas! unbelief darkens the understanding and contracts the heart. There is nothing so absurd as unbelief, and nothing which so shuts up the bowels of compassion. Faith and love always go together, and in proportion to the growth of the one is the growth of the other. Faith opens the floodgates of the heart and lets the tide of love flow forth. Thus the Apostle could say to the Thessalonians, "Your faith groweth exceedingly, and the charity [love] of every one of you all toward each other aboundeth." This is the divine rule. A heart that is full of faith can afford to be charitable; an unbelieving heart can afford nothing. Faith places the heart in immediate contact with God's exhaustless treasury, and fills it with the most benevolent affections. Unbelief throws the heart in upon itself and fills it with all manner of selfish fears. Faith conducts us into the soul-expanding atmosphere of heaven. Unbelief leaves us enwrapped in the withering atmosphere of this heartless world. Faith enables us to hearken to Christ's gracious accents, "Give ye them to eat." Unbelief makes us utter our own heartless words, "Send them [the multitude] away." In a word, there is nothing enlarges the heart like simple faith, and nothing so contracting as unbelief. Oh! that our faith may grow exceedingly, so that our love may abound more and more! May we reap much permanent profit from the contemplation of the sympathy and grace of Jesus!
What a striking contrast between "Send them away," and "Give ye them to eat." Thus it is ever. God's ways are not as our ways, and it is by looking at His ways that we learn to judge our ways—by looking at Him that we learn to judge ourselves. Jesus, in this lovely scene, corrects the selfishness of the disciples—first, by making them the channels through which His grace may flow to the multitude—second, by making them gather up "twelve baskets full of the fragments" for themselves.
Nor is this all. Not merely is selfishness rebuked, but the heart is most blessedly instructed. Nature might say, "What need is there of the five loaves and two fishes at all?
Surely the One who can feed such a multitude with, can as easily feed them without, such an instrumentality." Nature might argue thus; but Jesus teaches us that we are not to despise God's creatures. We are to use what we have, with God's blessing. This is a fine moral lesson for the heart. "What hast thou in the house?" is the question. It is just that and nothing else that God will use. It is easy to be liberal with what we have not; but the thing is to bring out what we have, and, with God's blessing, apply it to the present need.
So also in the gathering up of the fragments. The foolish heart might say, "What need of gathering up those scattered crumbs? Surely the One who has wrought such a miracle can have no need of fragments." Yes; but we are not to waste God's creatures. If in the using of the loaves and fishes we are taught not to despise any creature of God, in the gathering up of the fragments we are taught not to waste it. Let human need be liberally met, but let not a single crumb be wasted. How divinely perfect! How unlike us! Sometimes we are penurious, at other times prodigal.
Jesus was never either the one or the other. "Give ye them to eat." But, let "nothing be lost." Perfect grace! Perfect wisdom! May we adore it, and learn from it! May we rejoice in the assurance that the blessed One who manifested all this wisdom and grace is our life. Christ is our life, and it is the manifestation of this life that constitutes practical Christianity. It is not living by rules and regulations, but simply having Christ dwelling in the heart by faith-Christ the source of perfect sympathy and perfect grace.
In closing we might be interested and profit by a reference to our Lord's allusion to the two occasions of feeding the multitude, as given in Mark 8:19-21. "When I brake the five loaves among five thousand, how many baskets full of fragments took ye up? They say unto Him, Twelve. And when the seven among four thousand, how many baskets full of fragments took ye up? And they said, Seven. And He said unto them, How is it that ye do not understand?"
When the multitude was greater and the supply less, they had twelve large baskets of fragments; and, on the other hand, when the multitude was less and the supply greater, they had only seven small baskets. The greater the demand, and the deeper the need, the more the magnificence of divine grace shines out. Eternal and universal homage to the peerless name of our adorable Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!