_THE CHOICE BETWEEN LIVING AND DYING._
At the close of the preceding section we see that the ruling principle
of the Apostle--the earnest expectation and hope which inspired his
life--came into special exercise at this time with reference to the
possibility, and the likelihood, of an early and violent death. Dying
for the name of the Lord Jesus, as well as enduring imprisonment for
Him, might be near. He might not only be straitened in his labours, and
secluded from the activities connected with his loved work on earth, but
might be completely and finally withdrawn from it by Roman doom and
execution. The Apostle's faith looked steadily at this final
possibility. As at all times, so now also, Christ should be magnified in
him, whether by life or by death.
Now, when some great alternative of the future rises before a
Christian,--some possibility which God's providence may turn either
way,--it is natural that he should look heedfully to it, that he may
order aright his faith and patience as the day of decision draws near.
And it is natural in particular that his thoughts should be occupied by
the consideration how far the one way of it is in itself more attractive
to him than the other. For in view of that he has to watch his heart,
that as to what seems more attractive he may not desire it idolatrously,
nor let his heart be "overcharged" with it if it is realised; and that
as to what seems less attractive he may await God's will with submission
and faith, and welcome it, if so it come to pass, with sincerity. So
also the Apostle fixes his eye, ponderingly, on this alternative of life
or death, so strongly suggested by his circumstances. But, as it were,
with a smile he recognises that to a man standing, as he did, in the
light of Christ, it was hard to say which should attract him most. Life
and Death--what had they once been to him? what were they still to many?
To live, self--self pleased, provided for, contended for, perhaps
fighting for itself a losing battle with a bitter heart; to die, a dark,
dire necessity, full of fear and doubt. But now, to live is Christ. In
all life as it came to him, in all its various providences, he found
Christ; in all life, as it fell to him to be lived, he found the
circumstances set for him and the opportunity given to follow Christ; in
all the attraction and all the pressure, the force and strain of life,
he found the privilege of receiving Christ and employing Christ's grace,
the opportunity for living by the faith of the Son of God. That was all
very real to him: it was not only a fine ideal, owned indeed but only
distantly and dimly descried; no, it was a reality daily fulfilled to
him. To live was Christ, with a support, an elevation, and a love in it
such as the world knows not. That was good, oh how good! And then to die
was better: to die was gain. For to die, also, was "Christ"; but with
many a hindrance passed away, and many a conflict ended, and many a
promise coming into fulfilment as here it could not do. For if, as to
his own interest and portion, he lived by hope, then death was a long
step forward into possession and realisation. By grace Paul was to show
how he valued Christ; he was to show it in his life. And Christ was to
show His care for Paul--in this life, no doubt, very lovingly; but more
largely and fully at his death. To live is Christ--to die is gain; to be
all for Christ while I live, to find at length He is all for me when I
die!
Which should he prefer, which should he pray for (subject to God's
will), which should he hope for, life or death? The one would continue
him in a labour for Christ, which Christ taught him to love. The other
would bring him to a sinless and blessed fellowship with Christ, which
Christ taught him to long for. Looking to the two, how should he order
his desires?
It is because he speaks as one always does speak who is pondering
something--the words rising, as it were, from what he sees before
him--that he speaks so elliptically in ver. 22. "But if to live in the
flesh come to me, as its fruit and reward bringing...." What? The
Apostle sees, but does not say: something that might well reconcile him
to prolonged toil and suffering. But why produce the considerations on
either side, why balance them against one another? It is too long, too
difficult a process. And how can even an apostle confidently judge as to
better or best here? "And what I shall choose, really I do not know."
But this he knows, that so far as his own desires are concerned, so far
as the possible futures draw his spirit, he is in a strait between two,
having a desire to depart and to be with Christ, for that is far better;
and yet that he should continue in the flesh is of more imperative
necessity for the sake of friends like the Philippians.
Not every Christian is in the state of mind which would naturally
express itself as a desire forthwith to depart and be with Christ. The
great hope claims its place in every Christian heart; but not in every
case so as to inspire the longing to overleap all intermediate stages.
Rather must we not say that there are periods of Christian experience,
as there are also casts of character, for which it is more usual and
natural to desire, if it be God's will, some further experience of life
on earth? If this be immature Christianity, we will not, therefore,
judge that it cannot be genuine.
Yet to be ready, and, subject to God's will, desirous to depart, is an
attainment to be aimed at and made good. Sooner or later it should come.
It lies in the line of ripening Christian affection and growing
Christian insight. For this is better. It is not that life in this world
is not good: it is good, when it is life in Christ. It has its trials,
its conflicts, and its dangers; it has also its elements of defect and
evil: yet it is good. It is good to be a child of God in training for a
better country; it is good to be one who carries the life of faith
through the experiences of time. And, for some especially, there is a
strong and not an unworthy attraction in the forms of exercise which
open to us just in such a life as this, under the guarantee and the
consecration of Christ. Knowledge opens its career, in which many a
generous mind is drawn to prove its powers. Love, in all the variety of
its calmer and its more ardent affections, sends a glow through life
which gladdens it with promise. The tasks which call for practical
effort and achievement stir vigorous natures with a high ambition. And
when all these spheres are illuminated by the light, and dominated by
the authority, and quickened for us by the love of Christ, is not life
on those terms interesting and good? True, it is destined to disclose
its imperfection. Our knowledge proves to be so partial; our love is so
sorely grieved, so often bereaved, sometimes it is even killed; and
active life must learn that what is crooked cannot wholly be made
straight, and that what is wanting cannot be numbered. So that life
itself shall teach a Christian that his longings must seek their rest
further on. Yet life in Christ here upon the earth is good: let us say
no unkind word of those who feel it so,--whose hearts, with true loyalty
to Christ, would yet if it be His will put life fully to the proof
before they go. Still, this must be said and pressed--let it be
joyfully believed--that to depart is better. It is _far_ better. It is
better to be done with sin. It is better to be where all hopes are
fulfilled. It is better to rise above a scene in which all is
precarious, and in which a strange sadness thrills through our happiness
even when we possess it. To be where Christ most fully, eminently,
experimentally is, that is best. Therefore it is better to depart. Let
mortality be swallowed up of life.
It is not only better, so that we may own it so to be as a certainty of
faith; but also so that we may and ought to feel it warming and drawing
the heart with delight and with desire. It is not needful that we should
judge more hardly of life on earth; but we might attain a far more
gladdening appreciation of what it must be to be with Christ. With no
rebellion against God's appointment when it keeps us here, and no
grudging spirit towards earth's mercies and employments, we might yet
have this thought of departing in God's time as a real and bright hope;
a great element of comfort and of strength; a support in trouble; an
elevating influence in times of gladness; an anchor of the soul, sure
and steadfast, entering into that which is within the veil.
The hope of the gospel implies it. If that hope is ours and is duly
cherished, must it not assert itself and sway the heart, so as more and
more to command the life?
The earnest of the Spirit implies it. Of the very substance of the life
eternal a foretaste comes, in the presence and grace of the Spirit of
love and comfort. Can that be with us, can that leaven work duly in our
hearts, and not awaken longing for the full entrance into so great a
good? It may be expected of us Christians that we should lift up our
heads because redemption is drawing nigh.
As for the Apostle, however, if the choice were his, he felt that it
must fall in favour of still cleaving to the present life; for this,
though less attractive to himself, was more necessary for the Churches,
and, in particular, for his friends at Philippi. This was so clear to
him that he was persuaded his life would, in fact, be prolonged by Him
who appoints to all their term of ministry. Probably we are not to take
this as a prophecy, but only as the expression of a strong persuasion.
Work still lay before him in the line of training and cheering these
believing friends, furthering and gladdening their faith. He hoped to
see them yet, and to renew the old glad "fellowship" (ch. i. 5). So
there should be for the Philippians fresh matter of exultation,--exultation
primarily in the great salvation of Christ, but yet receiving impulse and
increase from the presence and ministry of Paul. Mainly, they would be
exceeding glad of Christ; but yet, subordinately, exceeding glad of Paul
also.
It is a striking thing to see how confident the Apostle was of the
resources given to him to wield. He knew how profitable and how
gladdening his coming would be to the Philippian believers. He admits
no doubt of it. God has set him in the world for this, that he may make
many rich. Having nothing, he yet goes about, as one possessing all
things, to impart his treasures to all kinds of people. To disguise this
would be for him mock humility; it would be a denying of his Master's
grace. When ministers of Christ come aright to this impression of their
own calling, then they are also powerful. But they must come to it
aright. For it was not the Apostle's consciousness of himself, but his
consciousness of his Master, that bred this superb confidence, this
unabated expectation. In subordination to that faith the Apostle no
doubt had specific reason to know that his own personal mission was of
the highest importance, and was designed to accomplish great results.
Ordinary ministers of Christ do not share this peculiar ground of
confidence. But no one who has any kind of mission from Christ can
discharge it aright if he is destitute of the expectancy which looks
forward to results, and, indeed, to momentous results; for the reapers
in Christ's harvest are to "gather fruit unto life eternal." To cherish
this mood, not in the manner of a vain presumption, but in the manner of
faith in a great Saviour, is the practical question for gospel
ministers.
Alike in the utterance of his mind about his Philippian friends, and in
his explanations about himself, it is remarkable how thoroughly the
Apostle carries his faith through the whole detail of persons and
things. The elements and forces of the Kingdom of God are not for him
remote splendours to be venerated from afar. To his faith they are
embodied, they are vitally and divinely present, in the history of the
Churches and in his own history. He sees Christ working in the
Philippian believers; he sees in their Christian profession and service
a fire of love caught from the love of Christ--the increase and triumph
of which he anticipates with affectionate solicitude. The tender mercies
of Christ are the element in which he and they are alike moving, and
this blessedness it is their privilege assiduously to improve. So he was
minded in regard to all the Churches. If in any of them the indications
are feeble and dubious, only so much the more intently does he
scrutinise them, to recognise, in spite of difficulty, that which comes
and only could come from his Master's Spirit. If indications too
significant of a wholly different influence have broken out, and demand
the severest rebukes, he still casts about for tokens of the better
kind. For surely Christ's Spirit is in His Churches, and surely the seed
is growing in Christ's field towards a blessed harvest. If men have to
be warned that naming the name of Christ they may be reprobates, that
without the Spirit of Christ they are none of His, this comes as
something sad and startling to be spoken to men in Christian Churches.
So also in his own case--Christ is speaking and working by him, and all
providences that befall him are penetrated by the love, the wisdom, and
the might of Christ. In nothing is the Apostle more enviable than in
this victoriousness of his faith over the earthly shows of things, and
over the unlikelihoods which in this refractory world always mask and
misrepresent the good work. We, for our part, find our faith continually
abashed by those same unlikelihoods. We recognise the course of this
world, which speaks for itself; but we are uncertain and discouraged as
to what the Saviour is doing. The mere commonplaceness of Christians,
and of visible Christianity, and of ourselves, is allowed to baffle us.
Nothing in the life of the Church, we are ready to say, is very
interesting, very vivid, very hopeful. The great fire burning in the
world ever since Pentecost is for us scarcely recognisable. We even take
credit for being so hard to please. But if the quick faith and love of
Paul the prisoner were ours, we should be sensitive to echoes and
pulsations and movements everywhere,--we should be aware that the voice
and the power of Christ are everywhere stirring in His Churches.
_UNDAUNTED AND UNITED STEADFASTNESS._
"Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ,
that, whether I come and see you or be absent, I may hear of your
state, that ye stand fast in one spirit, with one soul striving for
the faith of the gospel; and in nothing affrighted by the
adversaries: which is for them an evident token of perdition, but
of your salvation, and that from God; because to you it hath been
granted in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on Him, but
also to suffer in His behalf: having the same conflict which ye saw
in me, and now hear to be in me."--PHIL. i. 27-30 (R.V.).