THE FATHER AND HIS BOY IN THE VALLEY
Matt 17:14-20
Mark 9:14-29
Luke 9:37-43
In this account we see our Lord in contact with a father, and with his boy. The principal revelation is that of our Lord's dealing with the man, whereas of course, deliverance was wrought in the case of the boy.
This account is told by Matthew, by Mark, and by Luke, Mark giving the more detailed and vivid account. It is, however, important to observe, because of its bearing on our article, that the three evangelists place the incident at exactly the same point in the ministry of our Lord. This is significant. We are all fully aware that the chronology of the Gospel stories is not easy of arrangement. Matthew and Luke especially, wrote their Gospels from a definite standpoint of revelation, in the case of Matthew of the King, and in the case of Luke of the Son of man as the Savior of the world. Therefore each of them introduces some account at a given point, which may not be in chronological sequence. Here, however, is the record of something that happened, and they all place it in direct connection with the account of the transfiguration. It is, as I have said, most important that we keep that in mind, because of the bearing of the fact upon the matter under consideration.
Before examining the account in detail, it is best to reconstruct so far as that is possible, the whole scene presented to our view. In order to that we need necessarily, not only the more detailed account found in the record of Mark, but those also of Matthew and Luke, adding as they do, some details not given by Mark.
It is so wonderful a picture that is presented to the mind that I have often wished that some artist would put it on canvas, and have connected it in my mind with Frank Salisbury whose mural work is so well known. Simply as a scene it is unquestionably an amazing and most remarkable one. In the background is Mount Hermon. Without entering into any argument concerning it, I am assuming that of which I am quite convinced that the transfiguration of our Lord took place on Hermon, not as so often stated, on Tabor. It was there that Peter made is great confession, and from there they had descended to the valley where this incident took place. Consequently, in any painting of the picture, Herman should be seen, snow-capped, in the background.
Then as we look at the picture we are necessarily arrested by the central figure, that of our Lord Himself. In depicting this figure in this particular picture I am inclined to think an artist would have somehow to represent some of the after-glow of the Mount of Transfiguration still resting upon Him. That is how I understand the statement of Mark: "Straightway all the multitude, when they saw Him, were greatly amazed, and running to Him, saluted Him."
I am well aware that many reasons have been given for that amazement, but to me the simplest, and therefore the most satisfactory, is that which I have now suggested. While it is true that the disciples who had been with Him on the mountain, had been charged not to talk about what they had seen. I think the amazement caused was created by some unusual appearance of the Lord. When Moses came down from the Mount, his face shone, and he didn’t know it was. The declaration that they were greatly amazed is an arresting one. In passing we may say that the Greek word here used for "amazed" only occurs four times in the New Testament, and they are all in the Gospel of Mark. This is the first occurrence. We find it again in the 14th chapter when it is said that Jesus was amazed in Gethsemane. The third occurrence is in the 16th chapter, when we are told that the disciples looking into an empty tomb, except for the presence of an angel within it, they were amazed. The last occurrence is found in the words the angel spoke to them, when they were in that condition, as he asked them, why are you amazed? The real significance of the word is not that of surprise. Rather that of an ever-haunting fear, as of the vision of something so unusual as to be appalling. As the crowds looked at Jesus when He had thus descended from the Mount of Transfiguration, and stood in their midst, they were amazed. I repeat, I cannot help believing that some after-glow of the mountain experience was still visible in Him.
Turning from our observation of the central Figure, we see two groups of people gathered there, opposed to each other. First we see a group of the scribes, and these were questioning and discussing quite evidently, with the disciples. The word questioning may be most accurately rendered disputing. As we look at these men, it is inevitable that we see in their very countenances something of skepticism. This is created by their view of the disciples on this particular occasion. We turn to look at these disciples and we find them to be a company of defeated men. A case of demon possession had been brought to them, and they were quite unable to deal with it. It goes without saying that their defeat had produced in them a sense of defection. The scribes hostile to Christ and to His followers, were seizing upon this opportunity of the defeat of the disciples of Jesus to dispute with them. These two groups must be clearly seen.
Then we come to the very center of everything, and there we see two human beings, a father and his boy, the former filled with a terrible sorrow by reason of the suffering of his boy, and the boy quite helpless and undone. I repeat that the scene in itself is a great subject for an artist.
Now to summarize the whole account as it is revealed in the scene. It presents to us helpless and defeated humanity. That is focused in the picture of the boy and his father. In the presence of that the scribes themselves are defeated, though they certainly would not have described themselves in this way. They are defeated in the sense that they are quite unable to deal with the situation presented by this father and his boy. All they can do is to enter into some discussion with the disciples of Jesus. They could not do anything to help the boy or his father.
As we have seen, the disciples were also completely defeated. The boy had been brought to them, and they were unable to exercise any power that would set him free from his evil case.
The father is utterly helpless. It is impossible that we should be merely drawing upon our imagination when we say he had done everything he knew how to help that boy. Moreover he would willingly have given his own life if it had been possible by so doing, to set the boy free from demon possession. But he was quite helpless.
Necessarily the utmost illustration of helplessness is that of the boy himself. Thus the whole picture is that of defeated and helpless humanity in the presence of evil. But we look again, and we have the vision of the victorious Lord as He appeared on the scene. We might spend much time in attempting to see Him in His own Person. All that must, however, reverently be taken for granted, and we watch Him in connection with the situation. His first words were those of rebuke: "O faithless generation, How long shall I be with you? How long shall I bear with you?"
The words were general, and included in their sweep were His own disciples, the disputing scribes, and the suffering father and his boy. He spoke out of the consciousness that He was living in a generation without faith. The cry constituted a soliloquy coming out of the very heart of Jesus; revealing His consciousness of the difficulties in the midst of which His work was being done. We may turn aside for a moment here to remind ourselves that all the ministry of our Lord was conducted in the midst of difficulty, which appeared all the way to be too great, and to produce continued defeat. When today I hear people talking of the failure of the Church, I am always inclined to remind them that by all human standards and measurements from beginning to end, the ministry of Christ was characterized by failure. Necessarily we know now that what appeared to be failures was a continuous progress towards an ultimate victory. This is true of the Church also.
After this word spoken to the generation, our Lord turned to the father, asking him a question, and receiving his answer. He then addressed the underworld with absolute authority, which not only set the boy free from his evil case for the moment, but commanded and secured the continuity of that freedom, for He said: "Come out of him, and enter no more into him."
Thus the authority of the Lord was revealed in the presence of that which had defeated the father, His own disciples, and the scribes. He did what none other could and that with quiet authority and power.
Now let us turn to observe this man and his boy a little more carefully. As we look at the father we first necessarily are impressed by his suffering. The case of the boy appeals to us because of its entailment of suffering, but in the last analysis it is the suffering of the father that is the most outstanding fact. Luke tells us that he referred to his boy as "mine only child,” which phrase might be most accurately rendered "mine only begotten son." This description is, in itself, arresting, in view of the Person of our Lord. He was the only begotten Son of God, and here He is seen in the presence of a demon-possessed only-begotten son of a man. The reference is made here, however, to emphasize the fact of the suffering of this man in the presence of the madness and physical torment of his child.
Then as we look at him, and listen to him, we know of his sense of bitter disappointment. He had brought his boy to the disciples, and they were beaten. The arresting fact is that while they were beaten that day, they had in the past accomplished the very time they were unable then to do. When Jesus had sent them out, He had given them authority to cast out demons, and they had done it. But here was an hour in which they were helpless and paralyzed. Hence the sense of bitter disappointment filling the heart of the father.
Once more it reveals his mind, as he employed the language which expresses a lonely hope. It is the language of hope, but it is pitiful, as the result of his disappointment. He had told Jesus about the child, and his terrible sufferings. He had thus revealed to Him the agony of his heart; and then he cried out: "If Thou canst do anything, have compassion on us, and help us."
When he first spoke to our Lord he had said, "I brought unto Thee my son," and then he said: "I spake unto Thy disciples that they should cast it out; and they were not able."
Evidently the first intention of the man was not to brine him to the disciples, but to the Lord Himself. When he arrived, Jesus was not there. His representatives were there, but they were helpless. Now he said: "If Thou canst do anything."
In the very saying there is revealed the wonder or fear in his heart, created by the failure of the disciples. One can almost imagine the working of the man's mind. It is as though he were thinking, "I came with the boy. I brought him in hope. I felt that if I brought him to Thee, there might be hope. But Thou wert not here. Thy followers were here but they could not do anything. Does that mean that Thou hast lost Thy power, or that all the accounts I have heard were not true?" All this seems to lie within that expression, "If Thou canst." In that sense, therefore, it was a definite appeal and an appeal of hope, and yet hope that was struggling against fear, and almost mastered thereby.
Then when Jesus replied to him in words which we shall consider next, he cried out: "Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief."
It was a venture made with the consciousness of its weakness. Thus we see the man suffering, disappointed, having a lonely hope in the midst of his sorrow, and then making the venture of a faith which he himself was conscious, was characterized by weakness.
Turning from our contemplation of the man we look at the boy. In this connection it is an arresting fact that the Lord asked the father how long the boy had been in that case. Necessarily we know that He did not need information. There was, undoubtedly, however, a reason for the question, and the reason was that there should be clear understanding of how desperate a condition he was in. The father answered, "From a child," which quite literally means from his birth. Thus we see that the possession of this boy by an evil spirit, with all its terrible consequences, was not the result of personal sin. For the moment I am attempting no explanation of the fact, but am facing it. In that boy in the valley we stand in the presence of suffering not resulting from the wrongdoing of the sufferer. We may say that our world is full of this kind of experience. Nevertheless we may say in passing, that all such suffering has some explanation in racial relationships. Thus the boy is revealed utterly beyond the reach of human effort, suffering mentally and physically through no wrong of his own; while behind it all the mystery of evil, having this terrible manifestation.
As we turn from our contemplation of the father and his boy to watch Christ, we necessarily return for a moment to the point at which we began our article. The significance of this event in the valley following immediately the experience of the Mount of Transfiguration is related thereto in a remarkable way. As we look at the Lord we see the One Who had reached the experience of transfiguration. No other human being had ever been transfigured. It is quite true that we make use of this word in other ways, and there are senses in which this may be permissible. We see someone who perhaps has endured suffering, passing into the place of restoration and we speak of them as transfigured.
It is a beautiful poetical word, but inadequate to express the experience through which our Lord had passed. I repeat none other had ever been transfigured. In the Old Testament we read that Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him. He was translated by an act of God, not transfigured. We read of Moses whose face shone after communion with God, but he was not transfigured. There never has been any other transfiguration in the full sense of the great word than that of our Lord Himself. To understand the meaning of the experience we may quite properly change the word transfiguration, and do so by transliteration. To do this is to read to read that He was metamorphosed; the whole of the form was changed, and in that change God's second Man had come to the perfect realization of human nature, according to the Divine ideal. Immaculately conceived, innocent in the true sense of the word in childhood, holy as against all temptation, He at last reached the true consummation of human life according to Divine intention. He was metamorphosed. From that mountain top Jesus might have passed into the life that lies beyond, without dying.
He it is Who is now seen standing in the midst of the crowd. He had left the mountain, and so far as it is possible in human language to express the truth, we may say that He Who had been metamorphosed, had resumed the form which had been changed, the form in which death was possible. The One we look upon, therefore, was not only the Man of the mountain height of transformation. He was the One Who had turned His back upon it for some great purpose. On the mount we see Him talking with Moses and Elijah, and the subject of conversation was that of the exodus He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem. Even there in all the glory of the perfect victory and realization of His humanity, His face was set towards the valley and the Cross. He was the only begotten Son of God even in His human nature that is the Only One Who had realized the Divine intention in His Sonship, and He is now seen confronting the only begotten son of man demon-possessed. He was the One Who had reached the mountain height, but Who had left it with His face set to the valley.
In dealing with the father He first asked the question to which we have already referred, emphasizing the appalling condition of the boy as He received the answer that told Him he had been in that case from a child. Then when the father cried out in his anguish: "If Thou canst do anything, have compassion on us, and help us," our Lord replied: "If thou canst! All things are possible to him that believeth."
It will be observed that I have slightly altered the emphasis as is revealed in the changed punctuation. Our Lord was not now telling the man that all things were possible to him if he believed. But He was declaring the profounder fact as to why things were possible to Him, when they were impossible to others. The man had said, "If Thou canst" to which our Lord in effect replied that the principle of ability in this universe is that of perfect faith in God. At the beginning of the incident He cried out "O faithless generation." Now He said, "All things are possible to him that believeth." It was because He Himself believed in God in the full sense of the word, that there was no wavering, no failing, no halting, and no hindrance. He was in contact with Almighty power. We call to mind the fact that these miracles, or wonders, or powers that Jesus wrought were wrought by God through Him, and that is because of His perfect faith. On the day of Pentecost this truth was declared by Peter, when he said: "A Man of Nazareth, approved of God unto you by powers and wonders and signs which God did by Him in the midst of you."
He did not say He did these things, but declared that God did them, acting through Him. It was by the power of God that the demon was cast out of this boy. That power operated through His Son to Whom all things were possible because of His faith in God. One day we shall be just like Him.
It was then that the father cried, "Lord, I believe"; and knowing that his faith was by no means complete, he added, "Help Thou my unbelief." He had seen something of the truth of the principle declared by Jesus, and in reply, in effect, he said, If that be so, then I venture, I believe; and yet I am conscious that the belief is imperfect; there is something which is holding me back, something which is still raising questions. Therefore, help Thou mine unbelief.
Our Lord's reply to that was immediate. He turned to the boy and dismissed the demon. The word was one of full and complete authority, accompanied by victorious power, so that the thing was done for the boy, which could not be done by father, disciples, and certainly not by critical scribes.
Then we are told He stretched forth His hand, and took the boy by the hand. Very beautiful is the way in which Luke tells what happened. "He gave him back to his father."
The whole account is ultimately wonderful in that it is not only matter of history, it has microcosmic value. It is something far more than the narrative of an occurrence in the long ago. In itself it is an unveiling of the reason for and the exercise of perfect power by our Lord. The inter-relation of the mountain and the valley here is clearly marked. Jesus is seen as the Man of absolute perfection, Who came to the fullness of humanity's stature in transfiguration. He is seen, however, there as not counting His realization something to be taken and held to His own advantage. There in human life as in the mystery of His Deity, He emptied Himself by denying Himself, and set His face to the valley. Herein is the eternal secret of the power of Christ. He is the sinless One as the mountain testifies. He is the redeeming One as the valley witnesses.
Thank God Himself for coming down off that mountain. Thank You Jesus!
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