OH! you mean death?
No, I cannot say that I do, because you expect to die some time; not perhaps this year, but some time; and doubtless, you intend to make timely preparation for that certain event.
Then what do you mean?
Well, “the unexpected happens” is a common phrase, and simply means that, spite of every possible attention being given to an undertaking, or every contingency being met, so far as the clever mind of man can anticipate anything, something may occur which never presented itself to his prevision, and which his keenest foresight had never conceived. An event entirely unexpected happens and utterly destroys all his plans.
“The unexpected happened” when the Spanish Armada, instead of landing its troops on English soil, was swept by the hurricane into the inky waves of the North Sea, or was broken to pieces on unknown shores, and the proud Spaniard was foiled of his prey. That tempest was unexpected by him.
What then do you think will happen unexpectedly?
Ah! there was a time when the busy world bought and sold, planted and builded, rising morning by morning in view of a day on the mart, or exchange, or field, or yard. Hands were full, and heads were busy. Men had to live. The world was young, and though life was long, its hours flew apace. Bargains were struck; articles were bought and sold; seller and purchaser were keen then as now. Hill-sides and waste-lauds were planted; houses and cities were built. And all looked well: Today should be as yesterday, and tomorrow as today.
True, one man was busy building—not a house nor a city—but an ark. What of that? He, but he was only one, said something about a flood of waters, which, having come, would put an end to all the busy enterprises of the day, but the idea seemed so improbable that the business went on— “Until the flood came and destroyed them all,” and the unexpected happened! Unexpected but not unforetold! Why unexpected? Because disbelieved and discredited!
Yes, yes, but we are told that the flood shall never cover the earth again, so that we need not live in dread of a watery overthrow.
Quite true, but what of the other catastrophe—that of fire?
Oh! that is at the end of the world, and is a long way off! We can go on with our buying and selling, planting and building, marrying and being given in marriage; nor need we fear, in our day, any such terrible event as that.
Now, granted that the destruction by fire is necessarily at the end of all things, we are most profoundly anxious that you should know and lay hold of this fact that, long before the end comes, a period, called “the day of the Lord”— a long period, and one that is introduced and continued in righteous government, and the unsparing judgment of evil, shall first run its course. It is ushered in by the coming of the Son of man; and notice most particularly that “as it was in the days of Noah (we have considered these), so shall it be in the days of the Son of man.” Mark the word “so,” and compare the days. The unexpected happened in Noah’s days; it may happen in ours!
“The day of the Lord shall come as a thief in the night!” and people will be taken at unawares. They will be saying “peace and safety,” and lulling each other to slumber in the cradles of business, of trade, and pleasure, when the Son of man shall come, and then, what they never expected shall happen.
Oh, that a thoughtless world might take warning! Shall it never be? Once the Master, having risen up, the door shall be shut and all hope gone for the unbeliever.
The Lord Jesus Christ shall come as Son of man in judgment upon the world. He shall come as Saviour first for His own. The dead shall be raised, the living changed to meet Him in the air, and to be, thank God, for “ever with the Lord.”
For such this glorious event is not unexpected. It is longed for. God’s people pray, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.” But, reader, shall He come to you as a thief, or as Saviour?
J. W. S.