Christ's Earthly Glory

“This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested forth His glory.” — John 2: it.

A STUDY of this miracle will give us a glimpse of the true glory of our Lord while upon earth.

I. We see the Glory of His Social Nature.

Jesus was no ascetic. He did not shut Himself between four walls, barring out the world. He was truly in the world, though not of it. While bearing the sorrows of the community, He shared equally their joys. He broke up several funerals, but never a feast. He promoted the right kind of festivity. He came to increase our joys and diminish our sorrows, and He knows as no other does how to make our very sorrows channels of joy. W: are not surprised, therefore, to find Him at a marriage feast mingling with the people, and showing forth the glory of His social nature.

The world gets the social power of many Christians. They give to God their hearts, they say, their money, much of their time, but their environment compels them to yield the tribute of their social influence to the world. The social life of every Christian should show forth the glory of Christ.

II. We see the Glory of His Power.

It was quietly displayed; no outward show. He simply willed, and it was done. “The conscious water saw its Lord and blushed.” Such is the glory of Christ’s power to-day. It displays itself not in the tempest, the earthquake, or the fire, but in the still small voice. The great powers of nature are invisible and inaudible. We wonder at thundering Niagara, and yet the vital forces of the forest draw upward many times more water than pours over Niagara Falls. The quiet working of nature that lifts the clouds and distils the rain, giving life and beauty to meadow, field, and dower, displays the true glory of God. The heavens declare His glory by quietly shining, and the firmament showeth His handiwork without making ado over it,

III. We see the Glory oe His Sympathy.

Sympathy with the embarrassed and perplexed. Here was a family with more guests than they expected, and their supplies ran short. The Lord comes just in time to relieve their embarrassment. It suggests to us that Christ is ever sympathetic with the little worries and perplexities of life. It is easier to bear a great calamity than these little irritations. I venture to say that one of you wives could bear the death of your child with more equanimity than you could endure the embarrassment which your husband would bring upon you by coming in just at dinner-time with several prominent friends, for whom you were not prepared. Now, would it not be difficult to show yourself amiable and gentle under such circumstances? Stanley says that he did not fear the lions and elephants of the African forest as much as the “jiggers” and the ants. They killed more men than the savages. Ve have read of a battle against cannibals gained by the use of tacks. They had taken possession of a whaling vessel and bound the man who was left in care of it. The crew, on returning, saw the situation, and scattered upon the deck of the vessel the tacks, which penetrated the bare feet of the savages, and sent them howling into the sea. They were ready to meet lance and sword, but they could not overcome the tacks on the floor. We brace ourselves up against great calamities. The little tacks of life, scattered along our way, piercing our feet and giving us pain, are hard to bear. A prominent pastor in Brooklyn was absorbed studying the question of socialism, when his wife came in with despair on her face, and said she wanted advice about the servants. “Oh, my dear,” he replied, “I cannot give my time to little matters like domestic service. I am trying to solve the social problem of the universe.” “Well,” replied the wife, “you solve the problem in the kitchen, and I will promise you to solve the problem of the universe in twenty-four hours.” Really, it is easier to dispose of these great questions which cover the world than it is to meet and successfully overcome the little worries which present themselves day by day.

IV. We see the Glory of His Method.

The world’s method is to give the best wine first and keep the worst for the last. We see that in the experience of the drunkard. He has a time of jollity and what he calls happiness for a few years, but the end is delirium tremens, death: the good wine first and the bad last. How forcibly this was illustrated in the life of Landseer, the great animal-painter — a man before whose works of genius people in the art galleries of Europe stand to-day in rapt admiration! Near the close of his life he went around from place to place with swollen nose and bleared eyes, the pity of friends and the scorn of enemies. Byron gave the world’s version when he wrote:

‘’My days are in the yellow leaf:

The flower, the fruit of life is gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone.”

“Beau Brummel” put it in not quite so poetical a form when, after he had danced with princesses and frittered away his life, he pointed to a dog lying in the sun, and said, “I wish I was that dog.” These men of the world had the good wine first and the bitter dregs last. Christ may require of us self-denial, toil, struggle, patience. There may come into our lives sickness and death. We may have truly a hard time of it; but, depend upon it, the good time will come to the Christian, and these severe experiences will make the coming glory all the brighter. In what striking contrast with the sentiments of Byron and Brummel is the experience of Paul: “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness “! The “henceforth” is the Christian’s good wine. His life may be a battle to fight, a race to run, a charge to keep; but victory will crown the battle: the prize is at the end of the race, and the “Well done” from the Master’s lips will make us glad that we kept the charge He committed to us.