An attitude of expectancy does not depend upon theories about the
chronology of prophecy. It is Christ's will that, till He comes, we
know 'neither the day nor the hour.' We may, as I suppose most of us
do, believe that we shall die before He comes. Be it so. That need
not affect the attitude of expectance, for it comes to substantially
the same thing whether Christ comes to us or we go to Him. And the
certain uncertainty of the end of our individual connection with
this fleeting world stands in the same relation to our hopes as the
coming of the Master does, and should have an analogous effect on
our lives. Whatever may be our expectation as to the literal coming
of the Lord, that future should be very solid, very real, very near
us in our thoughts, a habitual subject of contemplation, and ever
operative upon our hearts and conduct.
Ah! if we never, or seldom, and then sorrowfully, look forward to
the future, and contemplate our meeting with our Master, I do not
think there is much chance of our having either our loins girt, or
our lamps burning.
One great motive for concentration, detachment, and alertness of
service, as well as for exhibiting the bright graces of the
Christian character, is to be found in the contemplation of the two
comings of the Lord. We should be ever looking back to the Cross,
forward to the Throne, and upwards to the Christ, the same on them
both. If we have our gathering together with Him ever in view, then
we shall be willing to yield all for Him, to withdraw ourselves from
everything besides for the excellency of His knowledge; and
whatsoever He commands, joyfully and cheerfully to do.
The reason why such an immense and miserable proportion of
professing Christians are all unbraced and loose-girt, and their
lamps giving such smoky and foul-smelling and coarse radiance, is
because they look little back to the Cross, and less forward to the
Great White Throne. But these two solemn and sister sights are far
more real than the vulgar and intrusive illusions of what we call
the present. That is a shadow, they are the realities; that is but a
transitory scenic display, like the flashing of the Aurora Borealis
for a night in the wintry sky, these are the fixed, unsetting stars
that guide our course. Therefore let us turn away from the lying
present, with its smallnesses and its falsities, and look backwards
to Him that died, forward to Him that is coming. And, as we nourish
our faith on the twofold fact, a history and a hope, that Christ has
come, and that Christ shall come, we shall find that all devotion
will be quickened, and all earnestness stirred to zeal, and the dim
light will flame into radiance and glory.
He comes in one of two characters which lie side by side here, as
they do in fact. To the waiting servants He comes as the Master who
shall gird Himself and go forth and serve them; to those who wait
not, He comes as a thief, not only in the suddenness nor the
unwelcomeness of His coming, but as robbing them of what they would
fain keep, and dragging from them much that they ought never to have
had. And it depends upon ourselves whether, we waiting and watching
and serving and witnessing for Him, He shall come to us as our Joy,
or as our Terror and our Judge.