The purpose of our Lord's departure, as set forth by Himself here,
guarantees for us His coming back again. That is the force of the
simple argumentation of my text, and of the pathetic and soothing
repetition of the sweet words, 'I go to prepare a place for you; and if
I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto
Myself.' Because the departure had for its purpose the preparing of the
place, therefore it is necessarily followed by a return. He who went
away as the Forerunner has not done His work until He comes back, and,
as Guide, leads those for whom He had prepared the place to the place
which He had prepared for them.
Now that return of our Lord, like His departure, may be considered as
having two stages. Unquestionably the main meaning and application of
the words is to that final and personal coming which stands at the end
of history, and to which the hopes of every Christian soul ought to be
steadfastly directed. He will 'so come in like manner as' He has gone.
We are not to water down such words as these into anything short of a
return precisely corresponding in its method to the departure; and as
the departure was visible, corporeal, literal, personal, and local, so
the return is to be visible, corporeal, literal, personal, local too.
He is to come as He went, a visible Manhood, only throned amongst the
clouds of heaven with power and great glory. This is the aim that He
sets before Him in His departure. He leaves in order that He may come
back again.
And, oh, dear friends! remember—and let us live in the strength of the
remembrance—that this return ought to be the prominent subject of
Christian aspiration and desire. There is much about the conception of
that solemn return, with all the convulsions that attend it, and the
judgment of which it is preliminary, that may well make men's hearts
chill within them. But for you and me, if we have any love in our
hearts and loyalty in our spirits to that King, 'His coming' should be
'prepared as the _morning_,' and we should join in the great burst of
rapture of many a psalm, which calls upon rocks and hills to break
forth into singing, and trees of the field to clap their hands, because
He cometh as the King to judge the earth. His own parable tells us how
we ought to regard His coming. When the fig-tree's branch begins to
supple, and the little leaves to push their way through the polished
stem, then we know that summer is at hand. His coming should be as the
approach of that glorious, fervid time, in which the sunshine has
tenfold brilliancy and power, the time of ripened harvests and matured
fruits, the time of joy for all creatures that love the sun. It should
be the glad hope of all His servants.
We have a double witness to bear in the midst of this as of every
generation. One half of the witness stretches backwards to the Cross,
and proclaims 'Christ has come'; the other reaches onwards to the
Throne, and proclaims 'Christ will come.' Between these two high
uplifted piers swings the chain of the world's history, which closes
with the return, to judge and to save, of the Lord who came to die and
has gone to prepare a place for us.
But do not let us forget that we may well take another point of view
than this. Scripture knows of many comings of the Lord preliminary to,
and in principle one with, His last coming. For nations all great
crises of their history are 'comings of the Lord,' the Judge, and we
are strictly in the line of Scripture analogy when, in reference to
individuals, we see in each single death a true coming of the Lord.
That is the point of view in which we ought to look upon a Christian's
death-bed. 'The Master _is come_, and calleth for thee.' Beyond all
secondary causes, deeper than disease or accident, lies the loving will
of Him who is the Lord of life and of death. Death is Christ's
minister, 'mighty and beauteous, though his face be dark,' and he, too,
stands amidst the ranks of the 'ministering spirits sent forth to
minister to them that shall be heirs of salvation.' It is Christ that
says of one, 'I will that this man tarry,' and to another, 'Go!' and he
goeth. But whensoever a Christian man lies down to die, Christ says,
'Come!' and he comes. How that thought should hallow the death-chamber
as with the print of the Master's feet! How it should quiet our hearts
and dry our tears! How it should change the whole aspect of that
'shadow feared of man'! With Him for our companion, the lonely road
will not be dreary; and though in its anticipation, our timid hearts
may often be ready to say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me,' if we
have Him by our sides, 'even the night shall be light about us.' The
dying martyr beneath the city wall lifted up his face to the heavens,
and said, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!' It was the echo of the
Master's promise, 'I will come again, and receive you to Myself.'