07.04. The Master has Come!
4. The Master Has Come!
Christ often spoke in parables. A single word was often in His mouth, an earthly veil of some heavenly truth. "Our friend Lazarus sleeps," said Christ; "but I go that I may awake him out of sleep." The disciples mistake His meaning. They lose the beauty of our Lord’s word. They think but of natural rest — and if he thus rest, what need of awaking him? For he shall do well and recover. But Christ explains Himself: "Lazarus is dead." For their sakes this had been permitted. It should strengthen their faith to see the mighty work which their Master should thus perform.
"Our friend Lazarus sleeps." What a cheering thought is here for those who belong to Christ! You are the friends of Jesus. You are the friends of Him who lives and was dead, and is now alive for evermore. You are the friends of Him who holds in His hand the keys of death, the grave, and the great world beyond — of Him who reigns supreme. And for you and those who are one with you in Christ, death is a peaceful sleep. The word sleeps looks backward and forward. It tells of rest from present toil and struggle and care. It tells of an awaking to a new day of blissful life. Even the sleep is one of blessedness — for the soul lives in the consciousness of a Savior’s presence, and tastes more of sweet fellowship with Him than is possible on earth.
Ah, Christian, fear not death! Tremble not at the grave! It may indeed appear to you in a dark and gloomy mask; you may fear the suffering and the sorrow and the parting scene; but there is a friendly face behind, there is a joyful greeting on the other shore. A young sailor was dying on board ship in the Chinese seas, far away from all whom he loved. But he saw the joy awaiting him. He had been awakened and converted to God some time previously, by borrowing from the captain’s chest an old book, "Alleine’s Alarm to the Unconverted," and now after a few days’ illness he was called away. But he died rejoicing: "Farewell, mother; farewell, England. Welcome, Jesus! Welcome, Heaven! Welcome, eternity."
It is interesting in this story of Bethany to remember the saying of Thomas which followed this conversation of Christ with His disciples. We often think only of Thomas as the picture of a doubting, unbelieving disciple. Let us not forget that there was in him the spirit of true self-denying love. Christ purposed to go into Judea. Thomas thought the Jews would kill Him; but if so, he was ready to share the danger. "Then Thomas said to the rest of the disciples: Let us also go, that we may die with Him!" John 11:16
We may learn a lesson here. Let us look at the best side of a Christian’s character. "A diamond with a flaw — is better than a pebble without one." A Christian may have some grave infirmity; he may fail very grievously at some crisis of his Christian career — yet for all that he may be one of Christ’s jewels, and may shine brightly hereafter in His crown. At length Jesus sets out on His way to Judea, and reaches Bethany. The sisters had a weary, sorrowful season of waiting, but it had an appointed limit. Christ tarries not a moment too long. "Why do the wheels of His chariot tarry?" might be the oft-repeated inquiry. "You do not understand now what I am doing — but you will understand later on." was the spirit of our Lord’s reply.
Holy Scripture forbids despair to any who wait on the Lord. A Jewish proverb declares, "When the tale of bricks is doubled — Moses comes." So when darkest falls the night to Christian hearts — the morning of joy is approaching.
"Then when Jesus came, He found that he had lain in the grave four days already." What could have looked more hopeless than this? And yet all ended well. When the sisters saw the outcome of it all, they could trace abundant loving-kindness in every moment’s delay.
Dear reader, never despair! In the darkest hour, hope in God.
What is it that now distresses you? Is it the most terrible blow that could possibly have fallen upon you? Is it a season of pain almost beyond endurance? Is it a loss that takes all heart, all pleasure out of life? Is it a darkness of soul that seems to block out all comfort, that seems to shut against you the door of mercy?
Still yield not to despair. Whether a better remedy can be found you may be disposed to doubt, but certainly a worse cannot be. Ah, when hope is dead — buried — four days in the grave — then Jesus comes, and with Him light and joy and deliverance! When Jesus comes to Bethany, the two sisters react differently. Methinks Martha is now rather to be commended than Mary. Mary nurses her sorrow, and can scarcely look up or think of anything but her lost brother. But Martha rises up and goes forth to meet Jesus.
How is it with Christians now in their days of sorrow? Some by faith and expectation are ready to welcome the first bright gleams of hope. Some sit down in a gloomy half-despair, their eyes blinded by unbelief and fears, and think that never again shall they see comfort and joy on earth. So was it with Israel of old in their bondage. They hearkened not to Moses, because of anguish of spirit and for cruel bondage.
Ah, Mary! why did you not rise up to meet your Savior? Might He not lighten your burden? Might He not speak some word that would cheer your desolate heart?
Let Christians avoid this spirit. Hope against hope, and believe in darkest hours, that help may be near. Such unbelief makes the heavy burden heavier; it lengthens out the time of trial; it shuts out the consolation that God sends you. Instead of this, watch for the light. Go forth to meet your Lord. He may come to you by a promise, by a providence, by a whispered thought; but whichever way it is, welcome His presence.
One of the most instructive features in the narrative is the gentle reproach of the two sisters. We hear the same words from both Martha and Mary — first from the one, and then later on from the other. This tells a tale. It shows that what they spoke to Jesus, they had again and again spoken in their hearts and to each other: "Ah, if only Christ were here — it would be otherwise! We would soon see our sick one recover. Strange is it He comes not to relieve our anxiety." And now they say this to Christ Himself: "Lord, if You had been here, my brother had not died." Was it the right word to speak? There was faith in it, for it recognized a certain measure of power and help in Christ; but there was unbelief, too, for it limited Christ’s power. Could He not have healed by a word, as He healed the nobleman’s son? Did it not likewise cast a doubt upon His wisdom and goodness? Did it not imply that there was something unkind, something they could not reconcile with His love, in thus leaving their brother to die?
Unbelief often lurks in second causes. If only such and such had been the case — if only matters had been so ordered — if such a person had come in — if we had gone to such a place, or done such a thing. Or, if someone else had acted differently, then all would have been well! Ah, poor foolish heart, do not torment yourself thus! If God had willed it, might not such have been the case? Can you not see His hand in all that pertains to this bitter sorrow of yours? Never so forget your responsibility, as to neglect the use of the means that God has put into your hand. Never so forget the overruling providence of God, as to fix your eye on second causes, and doubt that the Lord reigns.
"The lot is cast into the lap, the disposing thereof is of the Lord." "The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord." "All things work together for good to those who love God." But faith shines out again in the words of Martha: "But I know, that even now, whatever You will ask of God, God will grant You." Scarcely dare Martha permit the rising hope to take any definite shape. She might be looking for too much; and yet in the presence of that Mighty One she could not but entertain some glimmering hope that even yet help might be granted, and her brother given back. But in these words of Martha, we are brought face to face with a great truth! Christ is our prevailing Intercessor: "Whatever You will ask of God, He will grant You!" Thus spoke Martha, and thus may we say also.
What courage and boldness should this impart to us in prayer! O Lord, I have no right to expect anything, for my sin is ever bearing witness against me; but Christ is worthy. He asks for me, all that I need, and therefore with confidence do I look for all I need.
Then comes the first word of hope and promise. As if Christ would say to Martha — I know what you hint at; I know that secret suggestion, and it shall be even so. Your desire shall be accomplished: "Your brother shall rise again!" But Martha puts away from her the comfort which Christ would give. She ought at once to have embraced the hope; but she imagines that Christ speaks of that which is too far distant to console in her present distress. "Yes, true, there is another life; but far, far away is that glorious rising again; years must roll by before the trumpet-call shall summon my brother from the grave." But why not use the telescope of faith? It brings very near the things which may be yet in the distant future. It gives reality and present possession to that which may be removed from us by the interval of many centuries: "Abraham rejoiced to see Christ’s day, and he saw it and was glad." Such a faith enables the soul to discern a Savior coming in glory; the saint arising from the dead in a body made like unto that of Christ; all those in Christ now separated — then meeting together to spend a glad eternity in the presence of their Lord. But the Lord turns the thought of Martha to Himself. Away from the last day, away from her brother, He would fix and center every thought on Himself, the source of all resurrection life: "You speak of that which shall happen when time shall be no more. I bid you think of Him who has all power now and hereafter. In Me dwells the power of resurrection life. As I will, when I will, I can manifest it. I can manifest it now, in raising up your brother these four days lying in the grave. I can manifest it in the great day, by bidding every soul who believes in Me come forth to a new and glorious life." "I am the Resurrection and the Life: he who believes in Me, though he were dead — yet shall he live — and whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die."
Christian reader, lay firm hold of the eight great "I Am’s" of this Gospel, exactly meeting the need and misery of the sinner. Do you confess — I am but frail, the child of a day, and I need a mighty, everlasting Friend?
Christ meets this: "Before Abraham was I AM." Thus proclaiming Himself the Great Jehovah. Do you confess — I am famished and hungry in soul; I long for solid, substantial joy?
Christ meets this: "I am the Bread of Life — he who comes to Me shall never hunger." Do you confess — I am an exile, a prodigal far from home, far from safety?
Christ meets this: "I am the Door — by Me if any man enter in he shall be saved." Do you confess — I am a wanderer from the fold; straying far away over the mountains of vanity and sin?
Christ meets this: "I am the Good Shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known by mine." Do you confess — I am in darkness, and know not how to find my way?
Christ meets this: "I am the Light of the world: he who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." Do you confess — I am out of the way; yes, ignorant, and my soul is dead?
Christ meets this: "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." Do you confess — I am strengthless and fruitless?
Christ meets this: "I am the Vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, the same brings forth much fruit." Do you confess — I am a dying sinner in a dying world?
Christ meets this: "I am the Resurrection and the Life."
Ah, reader, lay hold by faith of these exceeding great and precious promises. They will assure you of complete acceptance, in spite of all unworthiness and sin. They will pierce every dark cloud. They will assure you of the presence and help of an ever-living Redeemer, who is able to save to the uttermost. They will give an answer to every unbelieving doubt and fear. They will give you courage and grace to make as your own the noble confession of Martha: "Yes, Lord; I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God!"
Yes, and when in cemetery or churchyard, over your body these mighty words of the Savior are read — when in the ears of those who have loved you, the minister speaks, "I am the Resurrection and the Life — he who believes in Me, though he were dead — yet shall he live," then shall your earthly tabernacle rest in its quiet dwelling-place, beneath the care of Death’s Destroyer, until He shall return, and in a glorified body you shall forever be with the Lord.
"A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come:
And we shall lie with those who rest
Asleep within the tomb.
"Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day:
Oh, wash me in Your precious blood,
And take my sins away!"