_LAST WORDS._
"A little while, and ye behold Me no more; and again a little while,
and ye shall see Me. Some of His disciples therefore said one to
another, What is this that He saith unto us, A little while, and ye
behold Me not; and again a little while, and ye shall see Me: and,
Because I go to the Father? They said therefore, What is this that
He saith, A little while? We know not what He saith. Jesus perceived
that they were desirous to ask Him, and He said unto them, Do ye
inquire among yourselves concerning this, that I said, A little
while, and ye behold Me not, and again a little while, and ye shall
see Me? Verily, verily, I say unto you, that ye shall weep and
lament, but the world shall rejoice: ye shall be sorrowful, but your
sorrow shall be turned into joy. A woman when she is in travail hath
sorrow, because her hour is come: but when she is delivered of the
child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for the joy that a man
is born into the world. And ye therefore now have sorrow: but I will
see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no one
taketh away from you. And in that day ye shall ask Me nothing.
Verily, verily, I say unto you, If ye shall ask anything of the
Father, He will give it you in My name. Hitherto have ye asked
nothing in My name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be
fulfilled. These things have I spoken unto you in proverbs: the hour
cometh, when I shall no more speak unto you in proverbs, but shall
tell you plainly of the Father. In that day ye shall ask in My name:
and I say not unto you, that I will pray the Father for you; for the
Father Himself loveth you, because ye have loved Me, and have
believed that I came forth from the Father. I came out from the
Father, and am come into the world: again, I leave the world, and go
unto the Father. His disciples say, Lo, now speakest Thou plainly,
and speakest no proverb. Now know we that Thou knowest all things,
and needest not that any man should ask Thee: by this we believe
that Thou camest forth from God. Jesus answered them, Do ye now
believe? Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is come, that ye shall be
scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave Me alone: and yet I
am not alone, because the Father is with Me. These things have I
spoken unto you, that in Me ye may have peace. In the world ye have
tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."--JOHN
xvi. 16-33.
In the intercourse of Jesus with His disciples He at all times showed
one of the most delightful qualities of a friend--a quick and perfect
apprehension of what was passing in their mind. They did not require to
bring their mental condition before Him by laboured explanations. He
knew what was in man, and He especially knew what was in them. He could
forecast the precise impression which His announcements would make upon
them, the doubts and the expectations they would give rise to. Sometimes
they were surprised at this insight, always they profited by it. In
fact, on more occasions than one this insight convinced them that Jesus
had this clear knowledge of men given to Him that He might effectually
deal with all men. It seemed to them, as of course it is, one of the
essential equipments of One who is to be a real centre for the whole
race and to bring help to each and all men. How could a person who was
deficient in this universal sympathy and practical understanding of the
very thoughts of each of us offer himself as our helper? There is
therefore evidence in the life of Jesus that He was never non-plussed,
never at a loss to understand the kind of man He had to do with. There
is evidence of this, and it would seem that we all receive this
evidence; for are we not conscious that our spiritual condition is
understood, our thoughts traced, our difficulties sympathised with? We
may feel very unlike many prominent Christians; we may have no sympathy
with a great deal that passes for Christian sentiment; but Christ's
sympathy is universal, and nothing human comes wrong to Him. Begin with
Him as you are, without professing to be, though hoping to be, different
from what you are, and by the growth of your own spirit in the sunshine
of His presence and under the guidance of His intelligent sympathy your
doubts will pass away, your ungodliness be renounced. He is offered for
your help as the essential condition of your progress and your growth.
Seeing the perplexity which certain of His expressions had created in
the minds of His disciples, He proceeds to remove it. They had great
need of hopefulness and courage, and He sought to inspire them with
these qualities. They were on the edge of a most bitter experience, and
it was of untold consequence that they should be upheld in it. He does
not hide from them the coming distress, but He reminds them that very
commonly pain and anxiety accompany the birth-throes of a new life; and
if they found themselves shortly in depression and grief which seemed
inconsolable, they were to believe that this was the path to a new and
higher phase of existence and to a joy that would be lasting. Your
grief, He says, will shortly end: your joy never. Your grief will soon
be taken away: your joy no one shall take away. When Christ rose again,
the disciples remembered and understood these words; and a few chapters
further on we find John returning upon the word and saying, "When they
saw the Lord, they were glad,"--they had this _joy_. It was a joy to
them, because love for Christ and hope in Him were their dominant
feelings. They had the joy of having their Friend again, of seeing Him
victorious and proved to be all and more than they had believed. They
had the first glowing visions of a new world for which the preparation
was the life and resurrection of the Son of God. What were they not
prepared to hope for as the result of the immeasurably great things they
had themselves seen and known? It was a mere question now of Christ's
will: of His power they were assured.
The resurrection of Christ was, however, meant to bring lasting joy, not
to these men only, but to all. These greatest of all events, the descent
to earth of the Son of God with all Divine power and love, and His
resurrection as the conqueror of all that bars the path of men from a
life of light and joy, became solid facts in this world's history, that
all men might calculate their future by such a past, and might each for
himself conclude that a future of which such events are the preparation
must be great and happy indeed. Death, if not in all respects the most
desolating, is the most certain of all human ills. Anguish and mourning
it has brought and will bring to many human hearts. Do what we will we
cannot save our friends from it; by us it is unconquerable. Yet it is in
this most calamitous of human ills God has shown His nearness and His
love. It is to the death of Christ men look to see the full brightness
of God's fatherly love. It is this darkest point of human experience
that God has chosen to irradiate with His absorbing glory. Death is at
once our gravest fear and the spring of our hope; it cuts short human
intercourse, but in the cross of Christ it gives us a never-failing,
divinely loving Friend. The death of Christ is the great compensation
of all the ill that death has brought into human life; and when we see
death made the medium of God's clearest manifestation, we are almost
grateful to it for affording material for an exhibition of God's love
which transforms all our own life and all our own hopes.
Lasting joy is the condition in which God desires us to be, and He has
given us cause of joy. In Christ's victory we see all that is needed to
give us hopefulness about the future. Each man finds for himself
assurance of God's interest in us and in our actual condition: assurance
that whatever is needful to secure for us a happy eternity has been
done; assurance that in a new heavens and a new earth we shall find
lasting satisfaction. This true, permanent, all-embracing joy is open to
all, and is actually enjoyed by those who have something of Christ's
Spirit, whose chief desire is to see holiness prevail and to keep
themselves and others in harmony with God. To such the accomplishment of
God's will seems a certainty, and they have learned that the
accomplishment of that will means good to them and to all who love God.
The holiness and harmony with God that win this joy are parts of it. To
be the friends of Christ, imbued with His views of life and of God, this
from first to last is a thing of joy.
That which the disciples at length believed and felt to be the
culmination of their faith was that Jesus had come forth from God. He
Himself more fully expresses what He desired them to believe about Him
in the words: "I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world:
again I leave the world, and go to the Father." No doubt there is a
sense in which any man may use this language of himself. We can all
truthfully say we came forth from God and came into the world; and we
pass out from the world and return to God. But that the disciples did
not understand the words in this sense is obvious from the difficulty
they found in reaching this belief. Had Jesus merely meant that it was
true of Him, as of all others, that God is the great existence out of
whom we spring and to whom we return, the disciples could have found no
difficulty and the Jews must all have believed in Him. In some special
and exceptional sense, then, He came forth from God. What, then, was
this sense?
When Nicodemus came to Jesus, he addressed Him as a teacher "come from
God," because, he added, "no man can do these miracles which Thou doest
except God be with Him." In Nicodemus' lips, therefore, the words "a
teacher come from God" meant a teacher with a Divine mission and
credentials. In this sense all the prophets were teachers "come from
God." And accordingly many careful readers of the Gospels believe that
nothing more than this is meant by any of those expressions our Lord
uses of Himself, as "sent from God," "come forth from God," and so on.
The only distinction, it is supposed, between Christ and other prophets
is that He is more highly endowed, is commissioned and equipped as God's
representative in a more perfect degree than Moses or Samuel or Elijah.
He had their power to work miracles, their authority in teaching; but
having a more important mission to accomplish, He had this power and
authority more fully. Now, it is quite certain that some of the
expressions which a careless reader might think conclusive in proof of
Christ's divinity were not intended to express anything more than that
He was God's commissioner. Indeed, it is remarkable how He Himself seems
to wish men to believe this above all else--that He was sent by God. In
reading the Gospel of John one is tempted to say that Jesus almost
intentionally avoids affirming His divinity explicitly and directly when
there seemed opportunity to do so. Certainly His main purpose was to
reveal the Father, to bring men to understand that His teaching about
God was true, and that He was sent by God.
There are, however, some expressions which unquestionably affirm
Christ's pre-existence, and convince us that before He appeared in this
world He lived with God. And among these expressions the words He uses
in this passage hold a place: "I came forth from the Father, and am come
into the world: again, I leave the world, and go to the Father." These
words, the disciples felt, lifted a veil from their eyes; they told Him
at once that they found an explicitness in this utterance which had been
a-wanting in others. And, indeed, nothing could be more explicit: the
two parts of the sentence balance and interpret one another. "I leave
the world, and go to the Father," interprets "I came forth from the
Father, and am come into the world." To say "I leave the world" is not
the same as to say "I go to the Father": this second clause describes a
state of existence which is entered upon when existence in this world is
done. And to say "I came forth from the Father" is not the same as to
say "I came into the world"; it describes a state of existence
antecedent to that which began by coming into the world.
Thus the Apostles understood the words, and felt therefore that they had
gained a new platform of faith. This they felt to be plain-speaking,
meant to be understood. It so precisely met their craving and gave them
the knowledge they sought, that they felt more than ever Christ's
insight into their state of mind and His power to satisfy their minds.
At length they are able to say with assurance that He has come forth
from God. They are persuaded that behind what they see there is a higher
nature, and that in Christ's presence they are in the presence of One
whose origin is not of this world. It was this pre-existence of Christ
with God which gave the disciples assurance regarding all He taught
them. He spoke of what He had seen with the Father.
This belief, however, assured though it was, did not save them from a
cowardly desertion of Him whom they believed to be God's representative
on earth. They would, when confronted with the world's authorities and
powers, abandon their Master to His fate, and "would leave Him alone."
He had always, indeed, been alone. All men who wish to carry out some
novel design or accomplish some extensive reform must be prepared to
stand alone, to listen unmoved to criticism, to estimate at their real
and very low value the prejudiced calumnies of those whose interests are
opposed to their design. They must be prepared to live without reward
and without sympathy, strong in the consciousness of their own rectitude
and that God will prosper the right. Jesus enjoyed the affection of a
considerable circle of friends; He was not without the comfort and
strength which come of being believed in; but in regard to His purpose
in life He was always alone. And yet, unless He won men over to His
views, unless He made some as ardent as Himself regarding them, His work
was lost. This was the special hardship of Christ's solitariness. Those
whom He had gathered were to desert Him in the critical hour; but the
sore part of this desertion was that they were to go "each to his
own"--oblivious, that is to say, of the great cause in which they had
embarked with Christ.
At all times this is the problem Christ has to solve: how to prevail
upon men to look at life from His point of view, to forget their own
things and combine with Him, to be as enamoured of His cause as He
Himself is. He looks now upon us with our honest professions of faith
and growing regard, and He says: Yes, you believe; but you scatter each
to his own at the slightest breath of danger or temptation. This
scattering, each to his own, is that which thwarts Christ's purpose and
imperils His work. The world with its enterprises and its gains, its
glitter and its glory, its sufficiency for the present life, comes in
and tempts us; and apart from the common good, we have each our private
schemes of advantage. And yet there is nothing more certain than that
our ultimate advantage is measured by the measure in which we throw in
our lot with Christ--by the measure in which we practically recognise
that there is an object for which all men in common can work, and that
to scatter "each to his own" is to resign the one best hope of life, the
one satisfying and remunerative labour.
In revealing what sustained Himself Christ reveals the true stay of
every soul of man. His trial was indeed severe. Brought without a single
friend to the bar of unsympathetic and unscrupulous judges: the Friend
of man, loving as no other has ever loved, and craving love and sympathy
as no other has craved it, yet standing without one pitying eye, without
one voice raised in His favour. Alone in a world He came to convince and
to win; at the end of His life, spent in winning men, left without one
to say He had not lived in vain; abandoned to enemies, to ignorant,
cruel, profane men. He was dragged through the streets where He had
spoken words of life and healed the sick, but no rescue was attempted.
So outcast from all human consideration was He, that a Barabbas found
friendly voices where He found none. Hearing the suborned witnesses
swear His life away, He heard at the same time His boldest disciple deny
that he knew any person of the name of Jesus. But through this
abandonment He knew the Father's presence was with Him. "I am not alone,
because the Father is with Me."
Times which in their own degree try us with the same sense of
solitariness come upon us all. All pain is solitary; you must bear it
alone: kind friends may be round you, but they cannot bear one pang for
you. You feel how separate and individual an existence you have when
your body is racked with pain and healthy people are by your side; and
you feel it also when you visit some pained or sorrowing person and sit
silently in their presence, feeling that the suffering is theirs and
that they must bear it. We should not brood much over any apparent want
of recognition we may meet with; all such brooding is unwholesome and
weak. Many of our minor sufferings we do best to keep to ourselves and
say nothing about them. Let us strive to show sympathy, and we shall
feel less the pain of not having it. To a large extent every one must be
alone in life--forming his own views of things, working out his own idea
of life, conquering his own sins, and schooling his own heart. And every
one is more or less misunderstood even by his most intimate friends. He
finds himself congratulated on occurrences which are no joy to him,
applauded for successes he is ashamed of; the very kindnesses of his
friends reveal to him how little they understand his nature. But all
this will not deeply affect a healthy-minded man, who recognises that he
is in the world to do good, and who is not always craving applause and
recognition.
But there are occasional times in which the want of sympathy is
crushingly felt. Some of the most painful and enduring sorrows of the
human heart are of a kind which forbid that they be breathed to the
nearest friend. Even if others know that they have fallen upon us they
cannot allude to them; and very often they are not even known. And there
are times even more trying, when we have not only to bear a sorrow or an
anxiety all our own, but when we have to adopt a line of conduct which
exposes us to misunderstanding, and to act continuously in a manner
which shuts us off from the sympathy of our friends. Our friends
remonstrate and advise, and we feel that their advice is erroneous: we
are compelled to go our own way and bear the charge of obstinacy and
even of cruelty; for sometimes, like Abraham offering Isaac, we cannot
satisfy conscience without seeming to injure or actually injuring those
we love.
It is in times like these that our faith is tested. We gain a firmer
hold of God than ever before when we in actual life prefer His
countenance and fellowship to the approbation and good-will of our
friends. When in order to keep conscience clean we dare to risk the
good-will of those we depend upon for affection and for support, our
faith becomes a reality and rapidly matures. For a time we may seem to
have rendered ourselves useless, and to have thrown ourselves out of all
profitable relations to our fellow-men: we may be shunned, and our
opinions and conduct may be condemned, and the object we had in view may
seem to be further off than ever; but such was the experience of Christ
also, till even He was forced to cry out, not only Why have ye, My
friends, forsaken Me? but "My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" But as in
His case, so in ours--this is only the natural and necessary path to the
perfect justification of ourselves and of the principles our conduct has
represented. If in obedience to conscience we are exposed to isolation
and the various loss consequent upon it, we are not alone--God is with
us. It is in the line of our conduct He is working and will carry out
His purposes. And well might such an one be envied by those who have
feared such isolation and shrunk from the manifold wretchedness that
comes of resisting the world's ways and independently following an
unworldly and Christian path.
For really in our own life, as in the life of Christ, all is summed up
in the conflict between Christ and the world; and therefore the last
words of this His last conversation are: "In the world ye shall have
tribulation: but be of good courage. I have overcome the world." When
Christ speaks of "the world" as comprising all that was opposed to Him,
it is not difficult to understand His meaning. By "the world" we
sometimes mean this earth; sometimes all external things, sun, moon, and
stars as well as this earth; sometimes we mean the world of men, as when
we say "All the world knows" such and such a thing, or as when Christ
said "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son." But
much more commonly Christ uses it to denote all in the present state of
things which opposes God and leads man away from God. We speak of
worldliness as fatal to the spirit, because worldliness means preference
for what is external and present to what is inward and both present and
future. Worldliness means attachment to things as they are--to the ways
of society, to the excitements, the pleasures, the profits, of the
present. It means surrender to what appeals to the sense--to comfort to
vanity, to ambition, to love of display. Worldliness is the spirit which
uses the present world without reference to the lasting and spiritual
purposes for the sake of which men are in this world. It ignores what is
eternal and what is spiritual; it is satisfied with present comfort,
with what brings present pleasure, with what ministers to the beauty of
this present life, to the material prosperity of men. And no soul
whatsoever or wheresoever situated can escape the responsibility of
making his choice between the world and God. To each of us the question
which determines all else is, Am I to live for ends which find their
accomplishment in this present life, or for ends which are eternal? Am I
to live so as to secure the utmost of comfort, of ease, of money, of
reputation, of domestic enjoyment, of the good things of this present
world? or am I to live so as to do the most I can for the forwarding of
God's purposes with men, for the forwarding of spiritual and eternal
good? There is no man who is not living for one or other of these ends.
Two men enter the same office and transact the same business; but the
one is worldly, the other Christian: two men do the same work, use the
same material, draw the same salary; but one cherishes a spiritual end,
the other a worldly,--the one works, always striving to serve God and
his fellows, the other has nothing in view but himself and his own
interests. Two women live in the same street, have children at the same
school, dress very much alike; but you cannot know them long without
perceiving that the one is worldly, with her heart set on position and
earthly advancement for her children, while the other is unworldly and
prays that her children may learn to conquer the world and to live a
stainless and self-sacrificing life though it be a poor one. This is the
determining probation of life; this it is which determines what we are
and shall be. We are, every one of us, living either with the world as
our end or for God. The difficulty of choosing rightly and abiding by
our choice is extreme: no man has ever found it easy; for every man it
is a sufficient test of his reality, of his dependence on principle, of
his moral clear-sightedness, of his strength of character.
Therefore Christ, as the result of all His work, announces that He has
"overcome the world." And on the ground of this conquest of His He bids
His followers rejoice and take heart, as if somehow His conquest of the
world guaranteed theirs, and as if their conflict would be easier on
account of His. And so indeed it is. Not only has every one now who
proposes to live for high and unworldly ends the satisfaction of knowing
that such a life is possible, and not only has he the vast encouragement
of knowing that One has passed this way before and attained His end;
but, moreover, it is Christ's victory which has really overcome the
world in a final and public way. The world's principles of action, its
pleasure-seeking, its selfishness, its childish regard for glitter and
for what is present to sense, in a word, its worldliness when set over
against the life of Christ, is for ever discredited. The experience of
Christ in this world reflects such discredit upon merely worldly ways,
and so clearly exhibits its blindness, its hatred of goodness, its
imbecility when it strives to counterwork God's purposes, that no man
who morally has his eyes open can fail to look with suspicion and
abhorrence on the world. And the dignity, the love, the apprehension of
what is real and abiding in human affairs, and the ready application of
His life to a real and abiding purpose--all this, which is so visible in
the life of Christ, gives certainty and attractiveness to the principles
opposed to worldliness. We have in Christ's life at once an
authoritative and an experimental teaching on the greatest of all human
subjects--how life should be spent.
Christ has overcome the world, then, by resisting its influence upon
Himself, by showing Himself actually superior to its most powerful
influences; and His overcoming of the world is not merely a private
victory availing for Himself alone, but it is a public good, because in
His life the perfect beauty of a life devoted to eternal and spiritual
ends is conspicuously shown. The man who can look upon the conflict
between the world and Christ as John has shown it, and say, "I would
rather be one of the Pharisees than Christ," is hopelessly blind to the
real value of human life. But what says our life regarding the actual
choice we have made?