The Lake of Galilee
“After these things Jesus manifested himself Again to the disciples at the sea of Tiberias.’*
Fkom Mount Moriah a rugged path leads down to the valley. The night was clear and cool — the first week in April — and every footstep was fragrant; for the thyme and the rosemary had newly fetched up that incense which each successive spring earth yields to her Maker; and deep down in the hollow murmured a stream which told that the vernal rains were not long over and gone. From the city there rose into the sky a misty light, as from a festival; but whatever might be the stir and excitement in the streets, with white cliffs and shadowy ravmes, Olivet, lonely and silent, looked down on it all.
The Passover was finished, a new ordinance had been instituted, a hymn had been sung, and now the little company was descending this path — the temple behind them, Gethsemane before them — a sad and anxious company; J esus, sublime in His resolute purpose and far-seeing sorrow, His attendants weak with dim apprehension and that mysterious forecast, which we all know so well, of coming calamity. Kor was it reassuring when such words broke the silence — “All ye shall be offended because of me this night: for it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered. But after I am risen again, I will go before you into Galilee.”
You know the sequel. You know how in language the warm expression of his own attachment, although not sufficiently considerate of his brother apostles, Peter again and again protested, “Though all shall be offended because of thee, yet will I never be offended” “Though I should die with thee,
yet wni I nor deny thee.” And you know how he kept his promise. You know how his ardour carried him a little farther than the rest; how, when the others lied, he followed as far as to the high-pidest’s palace; but you know how there his courage gave way; how, at the first challenge, he exclaimed, ‘ I am not His disciple’; and how, at last, with oaths and execrations, he declared, “I know not the man.”
A month has passed on: a month which to the world has given a risen Redeemer, which to all the apostles has given again their Master, which to Peter has brought forgiveness and reinstatement in the lovingkindness of the Lord. And now the time of Christ’s ascension is near. It is a calm, sweet morning in May, and they are beside the lake of Galilee. Seven of the eleven apostles have been up all night, toiling, as it turned out, for the last time, at their old vocation of fishermen, with no success, till Jesus joined them, and in a single sweep filled their net so full that they could not draw it. The last meal that they and He had all taken together, was on that night so much to be remembered,* and since then “all things were made new.” Sin had been expiated, God’s
* On His fourth appearance (Luke xxiv. 42) He ate not with but “before” diem j and Thomas was absent.
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sacrifice on behalf of a sinning world had been offered, and the kingdom had come — the reign of God in the midst of men. And so there — not in the Holy City, nor under the shadow of Moriah, but far off, on the heathen border, in “Galilee of the (gentiles” — J esus meets His destined Evangelists; and in the whole incident there is something significant, we might almost say symbolic. They are engaged in their lawful calling, when the Master accosts them; teaching us that Christ is not ashamed of His servants because their employment is homely, or because they wear the coarse garb of the fisherman. But in that calling even experienced hands, habituated to the lake and proficients in their craft, have no success till their Master directs them where to find; teaching us in all our ways to acknowledge a higher wisdom. The race is not always to the swift; and unless the Lord Himself fill the net, the scholar, the trader, the statesman may toil all night, and catch nothing.
Yes; “the morning has now come,” and it is very lovely. Nor is it merely that the lake is glass; it is not merely that the blossomed oleanders, like willowy roses, proclaim the plenitude of summer; it is not the promise of plenty in the ripening barley and leafy orchards round them; but their world is new. Their future is unknown; His precise designs and purposes their Master has not yet unfolded; but it is enough. He Himself s here, — in His countenance no sorrow now: on His spirit no sore pressure such as human friendship can neither share nor understand. And as with gunwale still wet and slippery, the boats are beached — as on 4he pebbly strand, the embers have gone out, and their repast is finished, although a working day, it feels so Sabbath-like; for, radiant in resurrection-life, rich in that calm rest into which He has entered, no longer so careful to veil His glory, the Master is in the midst; and although little has yet been spoken, it seems as if all the holiest seasons of the last three years had come again, with a nearer heaven intermingled. It is the Lord. He lives; He dieth no more. And it is thu& that He looks: so concerned for His people’s welfare, so glad to provide the meal for the tired and’ hungry boatmen, so benignant toward them b 3 happiness: “Come and dine.” Yet the movements so miraculous: His sudden appearance, the surprising draught of fishes, the repast so strangely provided; in His graciousness such majesty, His very sweetness so awful, that none could be intrusive, nor “dursj” anyone break the silence, and put in words the question rising to his lips, “Who art thou h”* But the silence ends, the reserve is so far broken. Peter already knows that he is forgiven, but with Divine considerateness the Lord Jesus is desirous of setting him right with his brother apostles, and with Divine wisdom the Head of the Church purposes to found something on his very fall. So when Hie meal was ended, and the time was come .for free and friendly converse, the Lord addressed Himself to Peter. The very question was so shaped as to recal to Peter’s ‘mind his rash and arrogant avowal, “Although all men deny thee, yet will not I:” u Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these Vy — imply: Qg, ‘ Son of Jonas, not long ago you boasted, that if these others denied me, you loved me so much more than * See Note A. they, that there was no fear of you. What say you now? Do you love me more than the rest V And to the question thus put, very beautiful in its meekness is Peter’s answer. He is too humble now, and too modest, to make any comparison, but he must come out with the truth, and„to the Searcher of Hearts he appeals, “Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee;” and, accepting the declaration, J esus replies, “Feed my lambs.” ‘ I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not; now thou art converted, strengthen weak brethren. Take for thy special charge those who are still weak in the faith; let love find its outlet in feeding my lambs.’ *
Then a second time He said it — not because He doubted the truth of the avowal, but in order to intensify and emphasize the exhortation which that avowal elicited, — “Feed my sheep.” And not without an obvious allusion to Peter’s threefold denial, Christ’s question was a third time repeated, t and the third time it was charged on the apostle, “Feed my sheep;” and a presenti- * See Note B. + See Note C. ment was given him of the martyrdom which he should incur in the service. Then it would appear as if with the words, “Follow me — words which at first, and three years before, had summoned him to discipleship, and which now finally called him away from the fishing-boat to more exalted functions — it would seem as if with these words the Lord Jesus had made a movement to arise and go thence, and Peter had literally followed. But there was another disciple who made the self-same movement; and turning round, and seeing John also follow, the old Peter gleamed out for a moment, as he asked, ‘ And what is to be his destiny ‘l He volun eers to follow: is there also a cross for him V a question which was rebuked in the reply, ‘ What is that to thee? Should he escape all violent hands, and live on to the close of the dispensation, what is that to thee? Follow thou me P
In this touching incident the first thing which strikes us is the grace of the Lord Jesus. Penitent as Peter was, it was needful to set him right with his brother apostles. whom he had first of all wronged by his forwardness, and next scandalized by his fall; and how admirably is this accomplished by the question, “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these?” — a question to which Peter replied so humbly, as to show that he claimed no pre-eminence even in affection, — but so earnestly, that fellow-servants could not refuse the avowal which sufficed for the Master.
So, in correcting any fault, in pointing it out, in trying to cure it — nay, in forgiving it, and trying to set the offender right with his fellows, there is need for holy skill and tenderness. Whatsoever other causes may have contributed, there can be little doubt that fierce denunciations have often aggravated slight doctrinal errors into chronic and deliberate heresies; just as a harsh, unsympathetic treatment has first discouraged the returning backslider, and at last driven him off into a sullen dislike of what he deems a, high-pitched and unfeeling hypocrisy. But if we cannot hope to emulate the discrimination which through Peter’s rashness still recognised his love, and when we read the message of the newly-risen Saviour, “Gc and tell my brethren, and Peter,” as well as the interview before us, if its Divine dexterity, its superhuman delicacy fills us with despair, we may at least copy the tender touch and holy handling which did not break the bruised reed, but so bound up and strengthened Peter’s crushed affection that it was stronger than before — no bruised reed, but a very trump of God, when a fortnight afterwards the Holy Spirit blew through him that Pentecostal blast, and they that were in their graves heard the voice — three thousand dead in trespasses looked up and saw the Christ of God, and began to live for ever.
A second lesson is the Saviour’s wisdom in the selection of His agency. In that same apostolic band there was another to whom we might have expected that the Lord would have said, rather than to Peter, “Feed my lambs: feed my sheep.” For depth of insight, for exalted spirituality, for that swift and sympathetic intuition whkffi is the prerogative of love and like-mindedness, for symmetry of character, who can compare to .Zebedee’s younger son? Hay, “He was like the moon,
Because the beams that brightened him passed over Our dark heads, and we knew them not for light Till they came back from his.” *
Was he not the most Christ-like in the company? — and are there not many traits of the Master, which we seem to know best by their reflection from this beloved disciple? Yet although he is the disciple whom the brethren love, and although he was the disciple w’hom Jesus loved, in the work of planting the Church and first preaching the Gospel he was not put forward like that other who made so many false steps, and who had been repeatedly rebuked for his rashness.
For this there was a reason, not only in Peter’s experience, but in the very make of Peter’s mind. In all ages you will find, that although deep thinkers may sway the thoughtful spirits round them, yet, in order to be popular, men must be frank, open, fervid, and must abound, not so much in the finer feelings, as in those which are shared by the most of their fellows. Thus, last century it was not the devout and gentle Doddridge,
* Adapted from “Balder.” but the impetuous Whitfield, who shook Eng. land from end to end. Thus it has not been Leighton, or Binning, or any such sequestered saint or seraphic thinker, who has made his mark on Scotland, so much as a real flesh-andblood reformer — a participator in the caustic national humour, scornful of superstition, sardonic toward all mere sentiment, reverential only to the Word of God. And thus, in the fatherland, it was not Melancthon, with his fine taste, his correct logic, his clear and careful statements, his beautiful and balanced piety, but it was Luther, with his startling paradox and sublime excess — Luther, with that mighty heart of his, which is still the most living thing in Germany — Luther, with those burning words which, picked up and heated anew by men who, like Goethe, have little heart or faith themselves, still make such excellent thunderbolts — it was Luther, whose noisy impetuosity roused all Europe, and brought dowm in dusty ruin a third part of the mystic Babylon. And so the imm of taste, the lovers of the correct and the beautiful, must often stand aside and allow God’s work to go on through agencies which, if they do not altogether like, it is evident that He Himself has chosen, and which are plainly the best adapted to the world as it is.
Still, let it not be forgotten that for the other class the great Head of the Chnrch has a place and a function. J ohn did not preach sermons at the close of which thousands were pricked to the heart, and exclaimed, “Men and brethren, vrhat shall we do V’ but neither did Peter write — even under Divine guidance it would not have been congruous to him to have written — such a Gospel as John’s, or such a treatise as John’s First Epistle — an Epistle and Gospel through whose refracting atmosphere the Sun of Righteousness is kept from ever setting on our world — into which we cannot look, but the very Godhead looks at us, Immanuel in His own light thence shining, because first received into the pellucid, waveless mirror of the narrator’s loving mind.
If we were more devoted to the Master we should have less dislike to any fit and faithful servant. After all, the thing that tells is truth c in love, — God’s own truth spoken by one who loves it and who loves Him, and who loves the souls of men — contagious truth, truth that has taken hold of what is characteristic in our mental constitution, and conformed it to its own likeness. In one of the Polar voyages, they made a lens of ice. They took the clear, crystal cake, and polished convex either side, and then, when held in the sunbeams, without melting itself, it would ignite the taper or set the fagot on fire. But for such frozen mediums there is no place in Christ’s service. Before givinganyone commission to teach or to preach, He asks, ‘ Lovest thou me? Candidate for the ministry, conductor of the Sabbath class, lovest thou me V It is an awful thing to be only the artist — the mere lens of ice, transmitting what you yourself do not feel. In order to be the evangelist you must be the burning and shining light; and if, according to the gift given, there is love — it may be a taper in the chamber, or a beacon on the mountain top — a smoking furnace, or a pure and perfect flame — but it will be in keeping with the natural character, and it will be by Christ enkindled; zeal as well as knowledge, benevolence as well as truth, a burning and a shining light.
When their Master’s need was at the sorest, none of the disciples acted out and out the part of the noblest and most self-devoting friendship; but there were two whose fall is most conspicuous — the one having betrayed Him, the other having with oaths and execrations repudiated all connexion with Him. Both fell, but the one fell to rise no more; the other was not only recovered, but fully reinstated in the confidence of his brethren and in the favour of his Lord. What made the difference? It all arose from this: — There never was a time when Judas really loved his Master. To the appeal, 1 J udas Iscariot, lovest thou me ‘l ’ he never could have answered, “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” Ah, no! he loved the money, he loved the present world, he loved the praise of men; but he never truly loved his Master. Peter didN Truly and tenderly, and with all the vehemence of his honest and ardent nature, he stood by his c 2 Lord; and although, in a fatal hour, his faith faltered, and, in the storm of temptation, his love went down and disappeared, it still was there, and soon came up again in an outburst of shame and repentance. And so, the mere professor of religion may fall and never be recovered. The name to live was all he had, and, now that this is lost, there is nothing to raise him up, or bring him back again. But you who are vexed with yourself because of ydur discomfitures and downbreaks — you who say, ‘ I had better give up, for I am not getting on. Every new start is sure to be followed by another stumble. And it is not only new temptations, but the old sins over again. I despair of pardon. I despair of ever growing better ’ — think of Peter. Think of all those who, like Peter, have not only been forgiven seven times, but seventy times seven. And if, to the demand of the heart-searching Immanuel, “Lovest thou me ‘l” you can answer, “Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee,” His long-suffering mercy will not only pardon but cure you; and, called to a fresh career of discipleship, and a new trial of faith and affection by that word, “Follow me,” your diseases will be healed, your soul will be restored in the paths of righteousness, and you will be upheld by the Lord whom you follow.