The Unpromising Environment

‘Jesus was without in desert places; and they came to Him from every quarter.” — Mark i. 45.

ARE we enter into this experience of the Son of Man? Yes, because He is the Son

of Man; we can, without irreverence, make His human experience the type of our own. I think, then, this must have been one of the saddest hours in the whole life of Jesus. The saddest of all hours is that in which we are “without in desert places.” The desert places always are “without.” They put a man off the line; they shunt him. There is no pain equal to the pain of being off the line, of being shunted. To feel that you are not running with the stream, to feel that you have been left behind in the race, to feel that you are not in communication with the main current — this, for an active life, is a fearful thing. I think the human soul of Christ

must have been specially straitened at this moment. He seemed to be held back from His baptism — held back by the sheer force of an obscure environment, by the necessity to dwell alone. And yet, what was the state of the case? Mark tells us. He says that Christ’s solitary hour proved to be His most crowded hour, “They came to Him from every quarter.” They made His desert the metropolis. Can you point to any such experience in your life? I can in mine. I can declare, in looking back, that the stone I repudiated in my building has always proved itself the head of the corner. There have been days seemingly uneventful when I have felt the sense of neglect. But in the retrospect these are my red-letter days; I find that in their cool and quiet hours the Lord God was walking. I suppose Philip grumbled when he was sent into the desert; it seemed a poor diocese for a burning missionary spirit. He saw there only one solitary carriage and one solitary ‘man in it. But the man in that carriage was himself a kingdom. Philip caught in one draught more fish than had been gathered by all the disciples together in the boats which plied from morning till evening.

Lord, I have seen Thee in two moments — a moment in the city and a moment in the desert. I have seen Thee amid the exultant crowd — Thy path strewn with palm-leaves and Thine ear greeted with plaudits; and I have seen Thee treading the winepress alone — the palm-leaves all withered and the plaudits all silent. And as I looked I said, “Surely Thy crowded way will be Thy glorious way; surely the desert road will have no place in Thy kingdom!” But lo, my Lord, it has been all otherwise! It is Thy desert that has broken into singing; it is Thy wilderness that has blossomed as the rose! I called Thy wreath of palms God’s providence, and I called Thy wreath of thorns God’s cloud; but the palms have been Thy cloud and the thorns have been Thy sunshine. The suburb has become the city and the city has become the suburb. I can never again trust my judgment of earthly things; thou hast exalted the valley and brought the mountain low. I can never again distrust my desert hour. Each manger henceforth will have its possible star. Each midnight henceforth will have its possible song. Each swelling Jordan henceforth will have its possible vision. Each hunger in the wilderness henceforth will have its possible angel. Each bitter cup henceforth will be a possible gift from my Father. Each cross of to-day will henceforth be to-morrow’s possible crown. Thou hast revealed a new road to promotion, for Thou hast entered into life by the strait gate and the narrow way.