01.14. Chapter 14 The Feet of Jesus—the Place of Comfort
Chapter 14
We have seen the Lord prohibit a touch in the case of Mary, and permit it in the case of those whom He met in the way, and who fell at His feet and worshiped Him. Now we see Him even offering Himself to the touch of all who were gathered together in that guarded chamber, saying, "Look at My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself! Touch Me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you can see I have. Having said this, He showed them His hands and feet."
We can easily in some degree imagine the terror of these disciples at this sudden apparition of their Lord. The solemn and wonderful events of the last few days, following each other in such quick succession— the strange matters unaccounted for, and unaccountably connected with the resurrection— had left them in anything but a favorable condition for the reception of their Lord with any degree of calmness, coming as He did in so mysterious a way.
There has been much controversy as to the Lord’s entrance through the door—as to the nature of His body, and as to how He entered. Some think He knocked and was given admittance, some that He entered immediately after the Emmaus disciples, before the door was again shut; but the whole tone and words of the narrative point to a silent, sudden manifestation of Himself—"He Himself stood among them." Connected with these speculations as to how the Lord entered the room, are others connected with the nature of His body. We need not for our purpose enter upon these.
Let us take up a few thoughts of practical teaching and comfort for ourselves.
Observe here, one calm One—and many agitated ones; and the calm One ministering out of Himself to the agitated ones. Such is the picture presented to us here, and the like is often reproduced in the church, and in individual souls. If we could have seen the horror-stricken countenances of the apostles and disciples, and the calm, sweet look of Christ—these would have taught us more than all that could be written on the subject. The church is privileged to rejoice in the presence of an ever calm, collected Lord. Conscious of His power, and dignity, and feelings, and of what He is, and what we are—He is ever calm—not uninterested, but not anxious; not nervous—yet not nerveless; above all agitations—but not above feeling for those who are subject to them.
We accept this picture as a typical one; we would realize it in all the agitations and weaknesses, and affrights of our spiritual, yes, and even our temporal life. In all our agitations, our soul will crave the presence of some calm one on whom we may lean. Our own friends and relatives will very possibly not supply all our need—and even if they do in some measure, that ’some’ will not be enough. We shall have to go deeper than they; we shall have to hear Jesus saying, ’Look to Me!’ And how is it that Jesus ministers to our fears? When the disciples were in the boat tossed with waves, and He came to them, and they thought it to be a ghost, He said, "It is I—do not be afraid;" and now He says here, "It is I, myself!"
Surely it would be a wonderful sight, if we could see Jesus thus ministering now—revealing Himself, His intense reality, His human sympathy and feelings to multitudes of fearful ones scattered here and there. In Himself He contains a well-spring of peace and comfort enough for all. He would have us, at all these times, still our souls with a deep and thorough consciousness that it is His very self with whom we have to do, "Behold my hands and my feet!" "He showed unto them his hands and his feet."
It was by this manifestation that the Lord set right, the thoughts which had arisen in the hearts of this terrified company. Their "thoughts" had reference doubtless to that which they saw before them—but could not understand. There is no reason to suppose that they thought that this was any other than Jesus, or that they were not aware that it actually was Jesus; but then what was He exactly, appearing under these strange circumstances? They evidently thought Him to be a spirit—not a ghost as in Matthew 14:26—but the actual Lord Himself, only without a body. The disciples believed that it was Jesus—but one different from their own well-known Jesus.
Now the Lord meant to reassure them—to show them that He was not pure spirit—that He was His very self, and consequently their very own Jesus. For these two thoughts are bound together: if He showed them that He was His very self—He would at the same time show them that He was their very own. The tie between them had been broken only so far as death could break it, and now Jesus shows that death’s doings have been undone, so He gives visual demonstration—He shows them "his hands and his feet."
These were pierced—and it was the will of Christ that He should present Himself to His disciples, even as He does to all now, as "the crucified One."
It was in relation to Him as the crucified One, that they were to stand for the future, and forever; they, in common with the whole church; the proof therefore which He condescends to give in the first case is the exhibition of the marks of crucifixion.
It is thus, indeed, that Jesus wills ever to be recognized! "I am indeed the same One who was with you before death, it is my whole human personality, and not merely as a spirit." The disciples have now to comprehend and take in the idea of their Lord’s new and risen life—but as a life bound up with the past. And thus it is to be with us. The new, the resurrection, the ascension life of Jesus is ours; but in all our graspings after realizing it, we must steadily keep in view the old life—its trials and its cross.
Surely the crucified feet should be to us, at least, who can calmly look back upon the whole history of Jesus—the best exposition of the present glory of the feet burning like unto fine brass, glowing in a furnace. All the manifestations which we shall have throughout eternity of the Lord—will be connected with His piercings. The many crowns which are on His head are all linked to the many piercings of that one crown of thorns which the soldiers plaited, and with which they mockingly adorned His brow.
"It is I Myself," said Jesus; and then immediately there comes the showing of the wounds. Oh what a stilling to all heart fear—’He and His wounds!’ Oh blessed thought that henceforth He never can be separated from those wounds!
Just so, He presents Himself to all of us, so would He have us present Him to all others—saying to them, "It is He Himself—behold His pierced hands and feet!" And when thoughts arise in our hearts—as from time to time they will—fears, and qualms, and surmisings, and doubtings, coming unbidden, coming we know not whence, brooding thoughts, disturbing thoughts—thoughts impossible to grasp, which by their very shadowy nature terrify us, or depress us—then, for these, Christ has for all time provided an antidote in the incident which we have been considering now. Against all such thoughts—He presents something solid—so solid that even our gross natures need require no more: He speaks—He shows—He says, "It is I myself," He shows His pierced hands and feet.