The Master on the Beach
Ne of the most interesting of our Lord’s appearances after his resurrection was the one which took place beside the sea. The scene shows a fire burning on the beach, with fish broiling on the coals, and bread; then beside the fire, the Master. The scene meant a great deal to the disciples. First of all, it had its cheer for them. We have lost much in our modern homes in giving up the old-fashioned fireplace with its blazing logs, and even in losing the open grate. The fire on the hearth was a brightener of the home. It is only in a poetical way that we can talk now about our hearth-stones.
The fire burning on the sand that spring morning made the shore appear more attractive and hospitable to the tired fishermen. ifinnmg tle Wai
Then there was more than a fire; there were provisions — fish broiHng, and bread. Had the Master himself kindled the fire? At least it was his thought and love that provided the breakfast. Indeed, it was the presence of the Master himself that gave to the scene its deepest meaning. Always it is the human element that is the charm in any scene. There is a story of a picture that seemed to be almost perfect, and yet people did not stop to look at it long, and were not moved to enthusiastic admiration as they stood before it. It lacked something. The artist discovered what the lack was, and taking his brush he painted a bit of human life on the canvas — a woman and a child — and now the picture had a resistless charm for every one who saw it. That lonely beach would have had a certain attraction for those discouraged fishermen that morning, even if they had seen nothing but the fire burning on it. But it was the human form standing beside the fire that gave the scene its chief attraction. Then when we remember who the man was that stood in the [88]
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dim gray of the morning and called to the fishermen, we need seek no further for the reasons why that morning hour was ever after so sacred in the memory of those men. They had found their Lord again. The presence of Christ changes everything wherever it is recognized. It changed everything for those men. The sea had never been so beautiful to their eyes before. The hills had never looked so glorious in their spring verdure. No morning had ever appeared in such radiant splendor as that morning. Their sorrow was changed into joy and their loneliness into the blessedness of holiest companionship.
So always, when Christ comes into our lives, all things are made new. A letter received the other day illustrates this. The writer has been a Christian many years — faithful, trusting, helpful, and full of good works. But during the past three months there has been serious illness in her home — a beloved daughter has been lying in fever. In this experience the mother has learned as never before [89]
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how real is the love of Christ in the lives of his friends. “No story could be told which would be more wonderful than the story of the goodness shown to me these months, nothing more nearly reaching the miraculous than the way Christ has sent comfort and blessing to me and to my sick child.” Then she goes over the story, and it is wonderful indeed. At the moment of need the right comfort always came. A nurse was necessary, but could not be afforded. Then a message came from an old friend, not seen for years, and the nurse was provided. Letters came every day with their sympathy and cheer, just when the mother’s burden seemed too heavy for her to bear. Every memory of the suffering of these months is made bright with some thought of Christ’s love which came at the right moment. Everything has been transfigured for this mother. She found the fire burning on the beach, with fish thereon and bread, and the Master standing by. This scene on the beach had also its comfort for the disciples. For three years they had [90] m)t 0iamt on tic TBeac
been with their Master in closest companionship. He had received them into most intimate fellowship. They had heard his teachings and experienced his friendship in its most sacred revealings. Some of us know what even a rich-hearted, noble, strong, gentle, true human friend may be to us in the way of comfort and strength. One wrote to another:
/ wish that I might tell you what you are
To me — you seem so fine and strong and true,
So hold, and yet so gentle, so apart
From petty strivings that confute men’s minds,
I wish that I might make you understand
How your clean, brave young life has made me hrave,
How I am cheered and strengthened and upheld.
When I consider that the world holds you
A hero; in a world of false ideals
Your truth, your worth, has blazed its own brave way.
If a noble human friendship can mean so much to one who enjoys its blessings, what must the friendship of Christ have meant to the men who had enjoyed all that was tender [91]
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and precious in it! But now this precious companionship was ended. In their bewilderment without his presence, the disciples had gone back to their old work. “I go a fishing,” said Simon. “We also come with thee,” the others said. But how weary it must have seemed, this tiresome handhng of boats and oars and ropes and nets after those three years of exalted friendship with Christ! They had supposed that this sort of commonplace work would never be theirs again. But now it seemed all that was left for them to do. They were heroic in returning to the old tasks, dreary though they were. They took up the work that was at hand, dull though it was, and lo! there stood the Master by the fire, with comfort and blessing for them. The time of the appearance of Jesus was most opportune. It was when the men were at their work. A little while before he had appeared to them in the upper room, when they were at prayer. We expect Christ to meet us when we assemble to worship him. But here the appearance was when they were at their [92]
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old occupation. Christ will meet us, not only at the communion or at the mercy seat — he is quite as likely to manifest himself to us in the dullest task-work of the common days.
“So still, dear Lord, in every place
Thou standest by the toiling folk
With love and pity in thy face,
And givest of thy help and grace
To those who meekly bear the yoke.”
In every life there are tasks which are irksome. Young people sometimes think school work dull. There are faithful mothers who grow weary in the endless tasks of the household life. There are men who sometimes tire of the routine of the office, the store, the shop. There comes to all of us at times the feeling that our work is not quite worthy of us. We have had a glimpse of life in some exalted experience. It may have been a companionship for a time with one above us in circumstances or in attainments, and now it irks us to come back again to the old plodding round, or to the old, plain, commonplace [ 93 ] ifffntJing tle Wav
associations. After three years with Jesus, we can easily understand how distasteful to the disciples it was to return to the fisherman’s life, among the rude, coarse and ungentle Galilaean fishermen with whom they must associate.
A young woman spent ten months in a home of rare refinement and grace, with the best books and music and art and culture in the daily home life. Then she returned to her own lowly home, with its plain circumstances, its lack of art and music and books, and its many uncongenialities, — a home, too, that was not always sweet in its fellowships, and we can understand how hard it was for her to do this.
Sometimes this happens: There comes a reverse in fortune which changes all one’s circumstances. The income is cut off perhaps by the death of the bread-winner, and leisure, ease and elegance have to be exchanged for plain conditions, poverty, toil and bare rooms. It is not easy to leave the beautiful home and go to live in a tenement or in a narrow [94]
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court. The experience tests character, and some people lose their courage and hope in the testing. Some, however, meet it nobly, because they have Christ. A man thinks he is settled for life in a condition of comfort and elegance, that his prosperity is sure and cannot be broken. Then suddenly, all his dreams vanish. He loses all he has. His first thought is, “How can I go back to the bare circumstances, the hard tasks, the dull drudgery, the long hours, the grinding routine under an exacting master.^” Some such feelings were in the minds of the disciples that morning when they saw the fire burning on the beach. They had taken up their old occupation as a duty, and there was the Master waiting to greet them. So it will always be with those who bravely accept changed conditions and nobly take up the work that lies nearest, though it be hard and distasteful.
Another suggestion from this scene is that Christ helps his friends in their common task-work. The disciples were sorely discouraged. [95] fmDing tie Wav
They had been dragging their nets all night and had nothing to show for their toil. Morning began to dawn, and lifting up their eyes, they saw a fire burning on the beach, and their Master standing beside it. At once he showed his sympathy with them. Knowing their disheartenment, he called to them, “Children, have ye aught to eat.^^” He is always trying to cheer us and make us brave and strong. Then a moment later he told them where to cast their net, and they drew it full. We must notice that it was their secular work in which Jesus helped these men. We expect him to help us in our praying, our religious duties, our church work, but here we have him helping at a piece of common task-work. Christ has a deep interest in our worldly affairs and occupations, in our toil and burden-bearing. Somehow, many good people expect no divine interest and help in their week-day work. But here we see the Master helping his friends at their fishing. This suggests to us how earthly success depends on the Master’s direction. We may ask [96]
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him to show us where to drop our nets. Many of us get disheartened when things do not seem to go welL Our business is not as profitable as we could wish. Burdens are heavy, competition is keen. We do not get on well. Ofttimes it is with us as it was with the disciples that morning, — hard, discouraging, fruitless toil. Then it was at the close of that long, toilsome night, with nothing to show for its work, that, looking shoreward, they saw a fire burning on the beach and the Master standing beside it. That is the picture for us all. Ever the fire is burning on the beach. Always the Master is full of sympathy when we have failed or are discouraged. Always he will help, changing failure into success, filling nets empty until now. Over against all failure, at the dawn of every morning that breaks after a night of unavailing toil, Jesus stands on the shore to give help, blessing and cheer.
Thus, the fire on the beach is the token of Christ’s interest in all our work and a pledge of his help in things we call secular as well [97] findtng tie Waig
as in things wg call spiritual. Jesus is always the friend of the toiling folk, and makes many of the sweetest revealings in lowly and humble places. Henry van Dyke puts it thus:
Never in a costly palace did I rest on golden bed, Never in a hermit’s cavern have I eaten idle bread.
Born within a lowly stable where the cattle round me
stood, Trained a carpenter in Nazareth, I have toiled and
found it good.
They who tread the path of labor follow where my feet
have trod; They who work without complaining do the holy will
of God.
Where the many toil together, there am I among my
own; Where the tired workman sleepeth, there am I with
him alone.
I, the peace that passeth knowledge, dwell amid the
daily strife, I, the bread of heaven, am broken in the sacrament of
life.
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“” woo
0 love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
1 give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray.
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
—George Matheson.