Do not let us forget that Heaven's clock is different from ours. In our
day there are twelve hours, and in God's a thousand years. What seems
long to us is to Him 'a little while.' Let us not imitate the
shortsighted impatience of His disciples, who said, 'What is this that
He saith, A little while? We cannot tell what He saith.' The time of
separation looked so long in anticipation to them, and to Him it had
dwindled to a moment. For two days, eight-and-forty hours, He delayed
His answer to Mary and Martha, and they thought it an eternity, while
the heavy hours crept by, and they only said, 'It's very weary, He
cometh not, they said.' How long did it look to them when they had got
Lazarus back?
The longest protraction of the fulfilment of the most yearning
expectation and fulfilled desire will seem but as the winking of an
eyelid when we get to estimate duration by the same scale by which He
estimates it, the scale of Eternity. The ephemeral insect, born in the
morning and dead when the day fades, has a still minuter scale than
ours, but we should not think of regulating our estimate of long and
short by it. Do not let us commit the equal absurdity of regulating the
march of His providence by the swift beating of our timepieces. God
works leisurely because God has eternity to work in.
The answer always comes at the right time, and is punctual though
delayed. For instance, Peter is in prison. The Church keeps praying for
him; prays on, day after day. No answer. The week of the feast comes.
Prayer is made intensely and fervently and continuously. No answer. The
slow hours pass away. The last day of his life, as it would appear,
comes and goes. No answer. The night gathers; prayer rises to heaven.
The last hour of the last watch of the last night that he had to live
has come, and as the veil of darkness is thinning, and the day is
beginning to break, 'the angel of the Lord shone round about him.' But
there is no haste in his deliverance. All is done leisurely, as in the
confidence of ample time to spare, and perfect security. He is bidden
to arise quickly, but there is no hurry in the stages of his
liberation. 'Gird thyself and bind on thy sandals.' He is to take time
to lace them. There is no fear of the quaternion of soldiers waking, or
of there not being time to do all. We can fancy the half-sleeping and
wholly-bewildered Apostle fumbling at the sandal-strings, in dread of
some movement rousing his guards, and the calm angel face looking on.
The sandals fastened, he is bidden to put on his garments and follow.
With equal leisure and orderliness he is conducted through the first
and the second guard of sleeping soldiers, and then through the prison
gate. He might have been lifted at once clean out of his dungeon, and
set down in the house many were gathered praying for him. But more
signal was the demonstration of power which a deliverance so gradual
gave, when it led him slowly past all obstacles and paralysed their
power. God is never in haste. He never comes too soon nor too late.
'The Lord shall help them, and that right early.' Sennacherib's army is
round the city, famine is within the walls. To-morrow will be too late.
But to-night the angel strikes, and the enemies are all dead men. So
God's delay makes the deliverance the more signal and joyous when it is
granted. And though hope deferred may sometimes make the heart sick,
the desire, when it comes, is a tree of life.