"Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how He said"--
"In my Father's house are many mansions."--John xiv. 2.
The Many Mansions.
What a home aspect there is in this "word of Jesus!" He comforts His
Church by telling them that soon their wilderness-wanderings will be
finished,--the tented tabernacle suited to their present probation-state
exchanged for the enduring "mansion!" Nor will it be any strange
dwelling: a _Father's_ home--a _Father's_ welcome awaits them. There
will be accommodation for all. Thousands have already entered its
shining gates,--patriarchs, prophets, saints, martyrs, young and old,
and still there is room!
The pilgrim's motto on earth is, "Here we have no continuing city." Even
"Sabbath tents" must be struck. Holy seasons of communion must
terminate. "Arise, let us go hence!" is a summons which disturbs the
sweetest moments of tranquillity in the Church below; but _in Heaven_,
every believer becomes a pillar in the temple of God, and "he shall _go
no more out_." Here it is but the lodging of a wayfarer turning aside to
tarry for the brief night of earth. Here we are but "tenants at will;"
our possessions are but moveables--ours to-day, gone to-morrow. But
these many "mansions" are an inheritance incorruptible and unfading.
Nothing can touch the heavenly patrimony. Once within the Father's
house, and we are in the house for ever!
Think, too, of Jesus, gone to _prepare_ these mansions,--"I go to
prepare a place for you." What a wondrous thought--Jesus now busied in
Heaven in His Church's behalf! He can find no abode in all His wide
dominions, befitting as a permanent dwelling for His ransomed ones. He
says, "I will make new heavens and a new earth. I will found a special
kingdom--I will rear eternal mansions expressly for those I have
redeemed with my blood!"
Reader, let the prospect of a dwelling in this "house of the Lord for
ever," reconcile thee to any of the roughnesses or difficulties in thy
present path--to thy pilgrim provision and pilgrim fare. Let the distant
beacon-light, that so cheeringly speaks of a _Home_ brighter and better
far than the happiest of earthly ones, lead thee to forget the
intervening billows, or to think of them only as wafting thee nearer and
nearer to thy desired haven! "Would," says a saint, who has now entered
on his rest, "that one could read, and write, and pray, and eat and
drink, and compose one's self to sleep, as with the thought,--soon to be
in heaven, and that for ever and ever!"
"My Father's house!" How many a departing spirit has been cheered and
consoled by the sight of these glorious Mansions looming through the
mists of the dark valley,--the tears of weeping friends rebuked by the
gentle chiding--"If ye loved me, ye would rejoice, because I said, I go
unto _my Father_!" Death truly is but the entrance to this our Father's
house. We speak of the "_shadow of death_"--it is only the shadow which
falls on the portico as we stand for a moment knocking at the longed-for
gate--the next! a Father's voice of welcome is heard--
"SON! THOU ART EVER WITH ME, AND ALL THAT I HAVE IS THINE."