The Stages of Christian Communion

“Have mercy upon me, O God.” — Psalm li. i. “That I may know the fellowship with His sufferings.” — Philippians III. 10.

Here are two degrees of Divine communion, its spring and its summer. The first is God’s compassion for me; the second is my compassion for God. “Have mercy upon me,” says the Psalmist; “Give me fellowship with Thy pain,” says Paul. And ever is this the sequence of the soul’s approach to God. I begin by asking His fellowship with me. It is the cry of my springtime. I have been quickened into pain by the new life within me, and I cry for an anaesthetic. I have been taught my weakness by the moment of convalescence, and I cry for a stimulant. The voice of my spirit in the springtime is ever the prayer that God will take my cross. But by and -by summer comes, and the scene is changed. My spirit takes a leap, a bound. I pass from 77iy cross to God’s cross. I have often wondered why Paul said, “that I m.ay know the fellowship with His sufferings “instead of” His fellowship with my sufferings.’’ But I do not wonder any more. I have learned the difference between spring and summer. Do you not see it even in the life of home! That little girl is laying all her crosses upon the mother; she would be miserable if the mother did not bear them. But, one day, she will be miserable if the mother does bear them. One day, she will want to lift the mother’s cross. One day, her deepest desire will be to have fellowship with the parent’s sufferings, to help her burden up the Dolorous Way. And, when that day comes, it will be, both for mother and child, the leafy month of June.

Jesus, I have been admitted to Thy higher class of communicants! I stood, one day, upon an eminence of the great city, and looked down. I looked upon its sins and sorrows. I saw the squalor beneath the i’y Leaves for Quiet Hours.

glory, the rags below the costly raiment. I beheld the struggle for survival, the weariness of life, the recklessness that breeds crime; and as I beheld, I wept. And then I knew that I was bearing Thy cross. Then I knew that I was lifting that old, old burden of Thine — the burden of Jerusalem that made Thee weep. That moment I gained promotion; I passed to the upper form. Hitherto, it had been all receiving; I had never given Thee a joy; I had been the child bringing its cross to the mother. But now there are to be changed times for me, for Thee. Tell me the secret of Thy pain; tell me the story of Thy grief! I used only to sing,” Safe in the arms of Jesus ‘*’; it is no more for me an adequate song. I cannot sleep if Thou art suffering in the Garden. Rather would I have my arms round Thee in the fellowship of pain! IMy springtime brought rest to the labour of my heart; but my summer glory will be when my heart shall enter into Thy labour.