07.03. It is the Lord

III "IT IS THE LORD"

John 21:1-25.

JOHN discerned Him first, as it was meet. To others it was a stranger that paced the sand and looked across the steel-gray water. To him who loved, and knew that he was loved, there was something in the gesture, inquiry, and tone which unmistakably indicated the presence of Jesus. A quick remark, in whispered undertones, to Peter was enough to cast him headlong into the water, and in a few moments, with rapid stroke, the strong swimmer was making for the Master’s feet. The man of love discerned; the man of action pressed through the intervening space to be the first to gather the spoil of that unex­pected interview. Be always on the outlook, fellow-dis­ciple, for thy Lord, especially in the early morning, when the world is fresh and the breeze curls the wavelets as they break in musical ripple on the sand. Ere the sun is risen above the hills, and while shadows lie dark and far on shore and sea, thou wilt probably find the Master taking pleasure in the works of His hands. There, where the foot of the roisterer and dissolute cannot intrude, where the voices of the world’s dissipa­tion are unheard, while the pulses are unstirred by the fever of the world’s passion, and the atmosphere of the soul is untainted by the soil of the world’s sin, at early dawn, amid nature, among the mountains, on the silver line of sand, in the woodland brake, in the garden, thou shalt hear the voice of thine heart saying, "It is the Lord." Thou wilt know Him by the fragrance of His breath, by the considerateness of His care, by His pity as of a father to his children, by His knowledge of mysteries hidden from all else; and when thou knowest Him to be present, gird thy coat about thee in the modesty of true humbleness, plunge through the divid­ing waves, and never rest till thou hast found thy way to His feet.

It is wonderful what Jesus is to those that meet Him thus. They may be tired with the night-watch, weary with their run of ill success, out of heart and hope; but they never approach Him without finding a fire kindled by His hand, the fish and bread of prepared provision, and a welcome to breakfast. Never let that chance of the morning interview pass unimproved; never let Him stand there in vain; never let love descry Him without the strength of a mighty purpose bearing thee to His embrace. And it is not only thus that thou shouldst meet Him. It may be that thou shalt be plying thy daily toil, tear­ing thyself from work thou hadst deemed more sacred; thou mayest have turned to the bench or store, saying, with Peter, "I go a-fishing." The night may have settled upon thee, of disappointment and heart-weariness and failure; then, with a tread that no mor­tal ear could detect, He shall glide in, the light of whose eyes is all the light that heaven needs, and He will be standing there amid the scenes of common toil. He is familiar with carpenters’ shops. He knows well how to handle a boat. His delights are in the habi­table parts of the earth-on the flags of the exchange, amid the concourse of the market, where trades are plied and handicrafts wrought. The quick heart may still whisper gently to itself, "It is the Lord," and the soul shall have broken through the restraint of the chill waters of reserve, and shall be locked in a companionship which even the presence of others cannot break. Nor will He only come to thee amid the scenes of natural beauty and of daily toil. He will come to thee most of all when thou art mourning over thy failure in His service. Have the fish been fic­kle? Have thy wonted arts failed to beguile them? Have the weary hours passed, thou doing all thy little best, without one tiny fish entering thy net? Does it seem to thee as if thy hand has lost its cunning, and dost thou think sadly of the disappointment which awaits others? This is the likeliest moment of all in which to come across Him. Jesus always comes to men who seem to have failed; who have meant great things, but have come short; who have toiled greatly, and have taken nothing. Such are dear to Christ. Nothing touches His heart like patient and steadfast endurance. Nothing will so surely bring Him within reach as those empty nets and light keels. Look out for Him as the night is passing and the day breaking, when strength is ex­pended and exhaustion is paralyzing. Thine heart shall awake, smitten by the gleam of His face, and thou shalt say softly to thyself, "This is my God. I have waited for Him; He is come to save me. This is the Lord; I will re­joice in His salvation. It is the Lord!"

Ah, soul, it may be that this story is not far from being realized. Thy night is almost over. Lo! the morning breaks. Thy boat has nearly come to shore. In a little it will grate on the pebbles, and, as through the parting mist which veils heaven thou seest a form waiting to welcome thee, thy heart will make no mistake if it softly whis­pers to itself, "It is the Lord;" and on thy emerging through the cold flood on the eternal shore, thou wilt see no man, save Jesus only, and find a fire of coals, and fish laid thereon, and bread; and thou wilt be bidden to bring of the fish which thou hast caught, that thou may­est feed on unexpected success with Him who says, "All Mine are Thine, and Thine are Mine: and My joy is perfected." When Jesus meets the disciple He has much to say. We need the anointed ear as well as the quick eye. He asks for love-for the noblest love of which the heart is capable: the love of respect, of devotion, of consecration, such love as we would give to God. He asks, that He may give us an opportunity of expressing it. He asks because He loves to hear us express it. He asks with a special significance when we have acted in any wise inconsistently with its great demand.

Hast thou not been conscious of this, fellow-disciple, when thou hast denied Him with oaths and curses, hast said thou didst not know Him, hast turned thy back on His great anguish? It was as though He says, "Is this thy love to thy Friend? " Art thou speak­ing and acting consistently with the high code of love’s ideal? Yet surely thou dost love in spite of this. Didst thou notice the other day, in the report of Nansen’s explorations, that about the pole there is a wide, open sea, the depths of which are warm, though the surface is covered by floating ice? Thy Master and mine knows well that the heart of a disciple may be warm, though on the surface may drift the ice-floes of denial and apparent neglect. As He asked of Peter, so of us, "Lovest thou Me?"

Let us never dilute the attachment that should bind us to Him. I notice that He asked of Peter the great divine love, worthy of God, and that Peter pro­posed to give Him a weaker, more sentimental affection. A second time Christ maintained His demand for the supreme love, but for a second time Peter proffered Him the lower. Let us avoid Peter’s mistake, and when Jesus asks the best from us, let us not put Him off with second-best; when He asks the supreme, let us not give Him the inferior; let us not drag Him down to our level, but let us confess our­selves willing to rise to His. Let us bring Him such love as we have and lay it at His feet, and as it fails to fill out the measure of His demand, entreat Him to take it in His hand, and for sil­ver to bring gold, for iron, brass, and for stones, jewels.

What revelations of ourselves Jesus gives us when we stand together in the presence of our brethren and in sight of the heaps of fish which betoken the success that He has crowned us with! He shows us ourselves-nay, we see ourselves reflected in the light of His life. We stand manifested before His judgment-seat and discern what He has discerned in us. Has He not led thee through the chambers of memory, and shown thee how much of all thy work has emanated from self? He leads thee back to thy youth and shows how much that the world praised was the result of the forceful energy of thine eager soul-so much was wood, hay, and stubble, which thou accountedst gold, silver, and pre­cious stones; so much was void, which thou thoughtedst was Nazarite conse­cration; so much was soulish and carnal instead of being spiritual and eternal. I hear Him saying to thee, as often to me," Thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest." Yes, that was our mistake. We were always girding ourselves up to new resolves, endeavors, sacrifices, exploits. We were fond of taking our own way.

"I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will."

O time, wilt thou not give us back those opportunities? Is the principal swallowed up in thy capacious maw, and only the poor interest of tears and experience left? Alas for us! So many steps in vain! So much walking to no effect!

"Remember not past years."

Then the Lord foreshadows the future: "Another shall gird thee, and carry thee." This might make us fear, if we were to interpret it as indicating the coming of a stranger, a detractor, or Satan. But if the "other" is a veiled allusion to Himself, or to the Holy Spirit, by whom holy men of old were borne along, we are content. Let it be even so, 0 Thou other Comforter! Come and bear us whither Thou wilt, though the flesh cry out, and the cross loom in front, and after it the grave in which we rest at last. Beyond it all lies the upper chamber, the scenes of Pen­tecost, the church built on the founda­tion of the apostles and prophets, the New Jerusalem, with the disciples’ names inscribed on its stones. In the presence of the Lord all curi­osity is silenced. Dost thou look into His face and try to read the destiny of some twin soul, asking, "What shall this man do?" Thou wilt get no clear response. It may be because thy re­quest was prompted by some kind of selfish longing. It is not for thee to know, but to be; not to compare thy lot with others, but to be strong and brave and true. All depends upon the Master’s will, which is taken and which left, which tarries and which speeds home, which is alive until He come and which passes to meet Him by the shadowed cloisters of death. Our busi­ness is to follow Christ.

Let us turn again to earth, with its demands and sorrows and sins, follow­ing Jesus as He goes about doing good, following Him to the ascension mount, following Him in thought and desire to His throne; and, penetrating every mystery, all perplexities, each en­shrouding cloud, with the unfaltering conviction of faith let us dare to say, "Though I cannot read His purposes, or distinguish His form, or even hear His voice, I know it is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good."