DISCIPLE GOING HOME

THE DISCIPLE GOING HOME

Soon the whole,

Like a parched scroll,

Shall before my amazed sight uproll,

And, without a screen,

At one burst be seen

The Presence wherein I have been.

— Thomas Whytehead

            When Bernard of Cluny wrote:

Brief life is here our portion as the opening words of his great hymn; he penned a fact that is an abiding consciousness with men of all ages and every region. The glory of the hope, and certainly of the faith which characterize that hymn, are beyond the experience of thousands, but that first statement finds an affirmative echo in every heart, whenever and wherever sung. That life is pass­ing, the number of our appointed years becoming smaller, by a perfectly quiet and orderly, yet irrevocable and absolutely unalterable sequence, every person knows full well. That the last year, the last break of day, the last moment will come; and more­over, that not a single one among the millions of the race now moving on toward the end can tell the year or day or hour of that end, these are solemn and self-evident truths.

            That end, called death, is at once the greatest cer­tainty, and the greatest mystery of all. To the con­sciousness of the natural man there is no escape from it, and yet around it has gathered, for the thinkers of all ages, and the teachers of all systems, and for those also, the many, who will not think, and who seek no teachers, a great darkness and mystery, so that man naturally shrinks from it, and by every means in his power seeks to put off the day which is the last. Yet, as man strives to do this he knows how futile is the strife, and so, by a sort of common con­sent, unwritten and yet binding, man is endeavoring by a forced forgetfulness to banish death and its aw­ful dread. What then is the attitude of the disciple toward this fact of the onward movement of this present life toward an end?

            1. The answer may be very briefly stated first as a matter of fact. The disciple dares contemplate that end; no longer shrinking from thought of it, he calmly faces it, questions it, smiles at it, and standing in its presence confronts it without fear or faint­ing. More than that, the disciple thus facing the end, from that very contemplation seems to catch a new radiance as of a light that never was on land or sea, his gaze into what the world has forever thought of as dark and mysterious, giving to his eye a brightness which tells of visions that add their polish and their hope to all the experiences of the passing hour, so that to him, the contemplation of the end, instead of shadowing all the pleasures of the moment, fills the darkest day with light, and makes every hour of sorrow an occasion of rejoicing. To the truth of this the experience of the Master Himself, and the writ­ers of the New Testament, and the followers of Jesus in each successive century bear unequivocal testi­mony. Let us confine ourselves to the experience of the Lord, and the testimony of New Testament writers. The writer of the letter to the Hebrews (12:2) gives us an inspired and remarkable vision of our Lord's view of the end of His human life. He saw the "Cross" and "shame," and "endured" the one, "despising" the other, for the "joy" that was set before Him. Of course this has a much wider appli­cation, but it certainly contains this revelation of our Master's view of the end of His life — the dark­est and most mysterious end of all — that what encompassed most largely on His vision was a "joy" that lit the darkness, and negatived the "shame."

            The experience of the writers of the New Testa­ment, as revealed in their writings, is on the same plane. Paul's writings abound with such conceptions. "I reckon that the sufferings . . . are not worthy to be compared with the glory. . . ." (Rom. 8:18). "To die is gain" (Phil. 1:21). ". . . My departure is come . . . henceforth . . . a crown" (2 Tim. 4:6, 7, 8). These passages should of course be read in their en­tirety, and they are but examples of many others, all revealing the same truth. Peter, looking forward, speaks of "a living hope . . . an inheritance incor­ruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away" (1 Peter 1:3-9). James, lights up the darkness of try­ing circumstances with the thought of the end, say­ing "Be patient . . . until the coming of the Lord" (5:7). John, exulting in present blessedness, views the end, and from the vision gathers new hope and purifying power "Beloved, now are we children of God . . . we shall be like him" (1 John 3:2). Jude sees beyond the present period of growth one of perfection "Him that is able . . . to set you before the presence of his glory, without blemish" (vs. 24). To this strong, courageous, and victorious out­look of the earliest saints may be added the testi­mony of the disciples of all the ages.

            2. So far we have made a statement only. Let us now endeavor to understand this attitude of the Lord and His disciples. There are two statements of the New Testament, which are so remarkable on account of their clear unmistakable meaning, that we will consider them only, as being sufficient to account for all we have said. The first is contained in the words of Jesus Himself to Martha at the grave of Lazarus (John 11:26). Let us in all simplicity and straightforwardness read these words, "Whosoever . . . believeth in me shall never die." The other is a statement by Paul (2 Tim. 1:10). ". . . Our Savior Jesus Christ, who abolished death."

            Nothing can be simpler or more forceful. Our Lord, speaking to Martha meant just what the words convey in our translation that to the soul believing on Him there is no dying. Death is not to that soul what it seems to humanity at large. The life that one already lives is the very life of God and eternity, and there is no death. That is precisely the thought of Paul. The word abolished literally means ren­dered entirely useless, robbed of its power to act.

            3. How has this been brought about, and how are the disciples of Jesus able to appropriate the stupen­dous miracle as an experience? On the day of Pen­tecost, Peter declared the fact of the resurrection of Jesus, not only to be the work of God, but to have been an absolute necessity by virtue of what Jesus was in Himself (Acts 2:24) . "Whom God raised up, having loosed the pangs of death, because it was not possible that he should be holden of it." So much for the reason of the Master's own view of the future. Now read Heb. 2:14, 15. "Since then the children are sharers in flesh and blood, he also himself in like manner partook of the same; that through death he might bring to nought him that had the power of death that is the devil; and might deliver all them who through fear of death were all their life­time subject to bondage." There we see how through His death He has given us victory over death, and taken from us its fear. Before He left His disciples He made that great declaration, "Because I live, ye shall live also" (John 14:19). Therefore we are brought into the place of His victorious life, through the overcoming of His victorious death.

            If then He has abolished death, what now re­mains? It is still certain that these probationary days here on earth shall end, this life of limitation and testing come to a conclusion, all this changing scene pass away, and still it is true that the end is not known as to its time.           Wherein do we differ then, as disciples of Jesus, from the crowd? In this, that instead of death being the end, He Himself stands waiting for us and forever approaches us, and whether we are among the number of those "that are alive, that are left unto the coming of the Lord," or "them that are fallen asleep," still the end of the present is Himself, for to sleep is just to be "absent from the body, at home with the Lord," not to die, and to remain to His com­ing is just to "meet the Lord in the air." So when evening comes to the disciple and he turns his back upon the glories of the western sky and faces the east, it is not cold, and dark, and cheerless, but full of light, for the sun fills all the horizon, and so to the child of trust "there is no night."

            Disciples then are not called upon to prepare for death, but for Him, and that hope purifies, refines, and illumines all the hours, with the radiance of the eternal day. We cannot fear death then, for to us all is changed. The end has become the beginning, mys­tery is transformed into the vestibule of revelation, rest from labor is entry upon highest work, and at eventide there is the light of the eternal morning in which is the disciple's home.

            May this article help one who struggles with the victory of the one who passes into His glorious presence and leaves someone behind!!!