01.16. Chapter 16.The Feet of Jesus—the Place of Manifested Power
Chapter 16.
There never was a greater mistake made with regard to our blessed Lord, whether considered in his life of humiliation on earth, or of glory in heaven—than to think of him as One whose loving-kindness had anything in it akin to weakness. The perfection and balance of His character forbade that.
We ourselves seldom possess a specific virtue in any striking degree, without its filching from something else; very often it is not anything positive in itself—but rather a negation of something else. And judging of Christ after our own imperfect standard, we not infrequently exalt some one of His perfections, at the expense of another.
Now here Jesus is represented as One standing in great strength. His feet are like unto fine brass. There is no yielding, no element of weakness here—nothing for mere maudlin sentiment to indulge in. And this strength had a twofold relation—one to us and one to Satan; and towards each it is put forth. And first as regards ourselves. Now when we think of Christ, it is generally only in our relation to sin—namely, as our Savior from sin’s curse. It is to be feared that many of us think little comparatively of His being to us a Savior from its power. Even of His sufferings in our behalf, how much more we think of the physical than of the mental part. We are melted at the thought of the buffetings, and spittings, and scorn, of the blood flowing from the wounds; we smite our breasts and say, ’Woe is me—that I was the cause of all this!’ We think little of the mental anguish—of the meaning of ’My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?’—of the loading down of the guilt of my sin on Him who was of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, on Him who shrank in horror from even its slightest stain.
It is indeed well that our ideas of Christ’s strength should associate themselves with immense power to love, immense to save, immense to help—but all is inharmonious, incomplete, unless we see that strength in His manifested holiness also. The way to slay sin in our daily life—is to live day by day with a holy Savior—to feel that our closest contact is with one who cannot bear sin—to realize that we are living in the presence of One, whose ordinary manifestation of Himself is one of strength in holiness.
Effort in the spiritual life is good—but it is doubtful whether we do not in some degree take wrong views about it. We think more of holiness by effort—than holiness by habit. The latter is what is presented to us in the feet burning like fine brass. There Christ stands in the calmness of strength and light; and He would have the power and glory of His position operate on us.
We shall never know the power of Jesus—if we look only at His cross, and forbear the looking at Himself. His cross was only of avail because of what He was. If we have accepted it, we may pass beyond its violence into the calm of His present life, and draw strength for our spiritual life, not only from Christ’s death for sin—but from His life in holiness; each day may be spent in the presence of the calm, brilliant power of the Holy One—"the feet like unto fine brass" being practically put with heavy tread on our rising sin—the manifested holiness of Jesus acting on us and for us with great strength.
We must conquer sin, not only by negative—but by positive means—not only by our view of Christ’s death—but of His life. God meant us to go on from the cross when it had done its work, to live with a living Christ—yes, we are privileged not only laboriously to find out how holy He was in this and that acting in life—but to look at Him as now fully revealed in the holy place itself. This sight will do wonders for us in our seekings after a holy life. We shall have all the power which belongs to companionship with the living—all the mighty influence which belongs to example—all that appertains to a presence. We shall take heed to our ways when we think of the feet like unto fine brass—to where we set our feet, when we think of His feet. And when sin rises up like a winding snake, and, perhaps before we know anything about it, has risen so high that we cannot put our foot upon it, then are we not without help—then let us call to mind the feet of brass—their exaltation, their vantage ground, their strength, their purity; and they shall crush the head of the monster we dread, and we shall escape!
Let us in imagination, lay the filthy thing beside the feet like unto fine brass, glowing in a furnace—and many a dark temptation, when thus exposed by that light, shall perish by the development of its own vileness; but if it should still put forth its strength, we may invoke the power of the feet to crush it—and they will.
Let us not be afraid of the holiness of these feet—or think that we do them wrong by asking that they may come into contact with, and stamp upon our sin. His feet—even as His hands, and head, and all points of His humanity—are for us; there is nothing in the human form, or human mind, or exalted human position of Jesus, which does not fit into something human belonging to us. We may look at all and each, and say, ’What is this, and this, and this—to me?’ On Satan especially will this power be brought to bear. Antichrist is to be destroyed with the brightness of the coming of the Lord. And as to Satan himself, he was doomed from the beginning to be destroyed by the crushing of these feet. On those feet was the bruised heel—and it was the bruised heel that was to be crusher or bruiser of the serpent’s head. There was to be a place of brightness—but it was first to be a place of suffering.
And, in truth, it was thus with Jesus, as it was to be with His church. It is through sorrow, that we pass to joy; we pass through gloom to light. Our places of suffering shall be places of brightness. There is something very teaching and comforting in the bruising of the heel, and the brightness of the foot. Let us make use of it.
Let us connect the very seat of trial with thoughts of joy; His head and those hairs are white like wool, as white as snow; and elsewhere we read that on that head were many crowns. The voice that cries, ’My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?’ is now as the sound of many waters—the pierced right hand has in it many stars—the visage marred more than that of any of the sons of men, is as the sun shining in its strength; the body first clothed with a mocking purple robe, and then stripped for crucifixion, is clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about the chest with a golden belt. For our weary foot or hand, for our pierced heart, for our aching head—there is an opposite of blessedness and joy for every grief they have respectively endured. But we are now to speak of the power brought to bear on Satan. It will indeed be a crushing one. The brightness of Jesus is not manifested now in this world of shadow and gloom. Gleams of it are seen here and there—but the day of full manifestation has not yet come. But when Jesus shall be revealed, Satan shall be struck down. That evil spirit has come into conflict with power many times, and with power in many forms—but it was always that with the element of human weakness and sin somewhere in it. But when he stands face to face with perfect holiness—it will smite him. He fled from it after the encounter in the wilderness, when Jesus was weak from fasting; how much more will he have to flee when there shall be no reason why Jesus should veil His power in any way—when the time for crushing shall have come. This will be the triumph of holiness. The light will drive the prince of darkness back into his own abyss. Not only will he not come to the light because his deeds are evil—but he will flee from it, he will be driven before it. Great are the powers of light in nature, and equally great, yes, greater, in grace; the coming of the One with the feet like unto fine brass glowing in a furnace, will be the full sun-rising of which we now have only feeble dawnings here and there.
Let us take courage, then, however great may be the present power of Satan either in the world, or in our own hearts. Let us have all the confidence inspired by the knowledge that we are on the winning side. Let us feel that we are contending with a doomed enemy. Let us hail every glimpse of the dawn of the brightness which shall destroy not only the devil’s antichrist—but the devil himself; and let us look forward to the full manifestation of the Sun of Righteousness Himself. It is only by His coming that the night-clouds will be dispelled, and the nations of the earth shall walk in light. But we need not wait for a long-distant future before we can receive light ourselves. We, too, must look to the future for full revelation—but Jesus may be brightening to us every day. And thus our evil shall be consumed. Let us say, ’O my Savior, be so bright in my soul that evil shall not be able to live in Your presence—come with light, ever more light, that the evil may appear dark—thus shall Satan be crushed in us, meeting in every believer a foretaste of his final and perfect doom.’
These feet of Jesus are thus shining in the way of final development. Christ always knew where and to what He was going; the future always had its power with Him. He looked to the end—He remembered the joy which was set before Him. His Father did not expect Him to go through the world, and His mission in it, without having light before Him. He also had respect unto the recompense of reward.
We may remember that we do not serve God for nothing, and that remembrance may exercise its influence on our life. It is God’s plan always to set something before us—that we should be people of hope, and reach forth to the object of our hope.
None who looked upon the way-worn feet of Jesus could have known that, wrapped up in those travelings, and wearinesses, and nail-piercings, was the brightness. They were as unlike it as the hard bud is unlike the unfolded flower, gorgeous in color, and sweet in its scent. But they were the germs which were to develop. Only they must develop in the proper time and way. Christ could not hurry the development of His own life into its eventual glory. Its bud, like all other buds, must unfold, it must not be picked to pieces. And so He passed through all His trials—He spent long years before He came out into ministry at all; He rejected the premature glory of sovereignty which men would have thrust upon Him; He did not judge the world, for His time of judgment had not yet come. To many, the present might have seemed to be thrown away, to be all lost time; nothing to all human appearance was coming of it; but the future was maturing—that future of which in this passage we have a glimpse. The present always has its use; it is never lost, never being thrown away, unless we will have it to be so. Let us look at it in this light—ever saying, ’This, and this, and this is an unfolding.’
Alas! what a fearful unfolding lies before many—to what a final development are they going! They will be landed by a natural process, in a terrible future! And now a word or two upon Christ’s ability to bring light with Him. He has light in Himself, and light for us.
Jesus walked in light Himself while He was upon the earth, though men did not see that such was His path—His was that path of the just, which shines more and more unto the perfect day. "In Him was life, and the life was the light of men, and the light shines in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it." But what could not be revealed on earth, is revealed in heaven—we are allowed to see what the feet and path of Jesus really are. In all Christ’s comings to us now, in all His ways with us, in all His leadings into duties—He comes with feet all light and bright. The duties and dispensations may seem dark—but if He is with us, His feet will bring light into them. The light will come in its own time. Jesus does not change dispensations—sorrow remains sorrow; but He comes with his own light into them, and then the sorrow remains a sorrow, and yet is turned into joy.
Let us believe, then, in Christ’s ability to bring light into all darkness. Let us seek to see the feet—and all will be well; let our anxiety be, not lest we should fall into any trouble; but lest if we do, Jesus should not be in it.
There lies before me a place of shadows—the valley of the shadow of death. That valley I cannot enter without Christ. But with Him, even of that place I may say, "Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." The feet of light are what I hope for there—the feet light, and the footfalls on before me light also—so that I need not be afraid. I shall know that they are the once-pierced feet, and, therefore, they are mine—they are the feet which lay in the grave, and are now all glorious, and all for me, coupling the darkness of the tomb with the radiance which lies beyond.