Jesus the Joy-Bringer
r I EN men — perhaps others with them — “*” are assembled on a certain night in an upper room in Jerusalem. If that room were still in existence, it might well be considered the most sacred apartment on the globe. Its doors are shut that night, for enemies are about. The doors open once to admit two brethren, who come to them with cheering news from Emmaus. Still they feel sad and lonesome; some are utterly cast down by unbelief. Did the door open again? Or was it through the closed doors by a miracle that the longed-for guest enters among them? No matter which way he comes. He is here! In actual flesh and blood, for he challenges them to “handle ,? his scarred form, that they may be sure he is not a mere apparition! It is too good to be true. They break out into such delight that it quite upsets their faith, for Luke tells us that “they believed not for joy, and wondered.” But he sits down among them, and eats of their fish and honeycomb in the old familiar manner. He pronounces upon them his benediction. He breathes upon them fresh spiritual power, after their late demoralizing panic and desertion. “Then were the disciples glad when they saw their Lord.” His predictions are verified. They are no longer bereaved. Jesus is among them, the same Divine Friend, Teacher, Comforter, and Redeemer.
I love to study this scene. Through it, as through a window, shines in the inspiring truth that Jesus is a Joy-Bringer. There is no greater mistake than to present Christ our elder brother to mankind in too sombre an aspect, as the Man of sorrows and mainly as the righteous condemner of sin. Rather should we present him as both loathing sin and loving the sinner. Just turn to the sixty-first chapter of Isaiah, and read the passage which he expounded himself in Nazareth’s synagogue, as the inspired description of his own character and mission. To preach good tidings to the meek and liberty to the captive, to bind up the broken-hearted, to comfort all that mourn, and to give the oil of joy for sorrow — this was his errand from the skies. He came into the world not to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. The cross brought agony to Jesus; but joy to the universe.
In how many ways is our Saviour a brhiger of gladness! Every sinner as soon as he feels the sting of his guilt becomes miserable. That sting he can not extract with his own hand, and while it remains it rankles. Nothing cuts and kills like sin. No wretchedness is so wretched as that of a soul convicted by God’s Spirit. There is a story of a rich Eastern master whose most skilful artisan began to fall off in his work. The master spoke to his steward about it. The steward replied: “It is no wonder that the poor fellow can not turn out good work. His hands tremble so that he can not manage his tools; his eyes are so full of tears often that he can not see what he is about. A heavy debt is pressing him, so that he even drinks to drown his sorrow. While that debt remains you need not expect him to produce any more good work.’7 “Then,” replied the generous master, “go and tell him that his debt is paid.” From that hour the artisan was a changed man. His tears were dried and he plied his tools with a happy heart; his work was done better than ever before.
A guilty soul can never work for Grod or enjoy any lightsomeness until its terrible debt to the divine justice is paid and the condemnation of sin is lifted off. The atoning blood of Jesus pays the debt of every penitent sinner that trusts in him. When Christ comes into the heart, light and joy enter like the rays of the morning.
“The Saviour smiles. Upon my soul
“New tides of joy tumultuous roll;
His voice proclaims my pardon found,
Seraphic transport wings the sound.
“Earth has a joy unknown to Heaven — The new-born peace of sins forgiven;
Tears of such pure and deep delight,
Ye angels, never dimmed your sight.”
It is not only the new convert to whom Jesus is a joy-bringer. He is the best of comforters to every believer in his troubles. Ah! my brother, there is an “upper room,’7 an inner chamber, of which you and I surrender the key only to the dearest friend. It is the heart’s sanctum, with which the stranger intermeddleth not. Sometimes that inner room becomes dark and dreary and lonesome. The lights burn low and the air is heavy. One enters through the closed doors. How sweetly sounds his voice of love: “Peace be unto you!” He shows us the scars of his sacrifice for us. He opens to us the casket of his precious promises. At such times of communion with Jesus we do not give him “the honeycomb.” He gives it unto us, and it drops sweetness on our braised spirit. His consolations fill the room with their choice perfume. We lie in his arms as the beloved disciple did; his right hand is under our head and his left hand doth embrace us. We can say, with happy assurance: “My beloved is mine and I am his. Whom have I in Heaven but thee, and there is none on earth whom I desire besides thee.” There is no sweeter, stronger fellowship with Jesus than to bring our troubles to him. He lifts them off, and grants the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Then are we glad when we see our Lord.
The more we have of Christ’s presence the more serenely peaceful we become. An empty heart is always wretched. Riches, fame, worldly success never fill the inner chamber of an immortal being. After counting them up, the sad heart asks: “Is this all?” But the Christian inventories his treasures, and exclaims: Christ is mine! I am an heir to the inheritance that never fadeth away! Joy is simply love looking at its treasures. A Christian’s joy is in clasping Christ and looking forward to the hour when he shall be like him and see him as he is.
The glory of Heaven will be in seeing Jesus. “A little while and ye shall see me, because I go unto my Father.” “Where I am ye shall be also.” When we return home after a long absence, it is not the house or the furniture or fireside that awaken our joy. It is meeting the loved ones. If they have gone, every forsaken room or empty chair is an agony. So in our Father’s house it will not be the pearl gate or the streets of gold that will make us happy. But oh! how transcendently glad will we be when we see our Lord! If we ever weep in Heaven, it will be tears of joy at meeting Jesus. Perhaps in that “upper room” also he may show unto us his hands and his side, and we may cry out, with happy Thomas: “My Lord, and my God!”