The Power of God’s Presence
Isaiah lxiii. 9 v. “The angel of His presence saved them.”
Strange that men should be saved by a presence; it is such a quiet thing. Salvation might be thought to require something strong, potent, compelling; we are surprised at an influence so gentle. Yet, I think, the most potent thing in the world is just a presence. What is it that determines the rank in society? It is the answer to the question, “Who are there?” What is it that brings condolence to an hour of bereavement? It is just the saying of one to another, “I am with you.” It is not what is spoken; it is not what is done; it is the sense that some one is there. So is it with my Father. I am not anxious to know the why, but only the where, of God. It matters little to me for what purpose He walks upon the storm, nor is it of deadly consequence whether or not He shall say, “Peace, be still.” The all-important thing is that the feet upon the sea should be His feet —
His, and not another’s. Tell me that, and I ask no more. There is all the difference in the world between a silent room and an empty room. There is a companionship where there is no voice. Is it not written, “In Thy presence is fulness of joy?” In the very sense that my Father is there, though He speak not, though He whisper not, though He write not His message in a book, there comes to my heart a great calm.
Reveal Thy presence, oh, my God. I want Thy presence even more than Thy power. The stilling of the waves is something; but it is not the main thing. The main thing is that Thy way is in the sea and Thy path through the deep. I would rather have the bow in the cloud than the cloudlessness without the bow. I would rather have the storm with Thee than the calm without the sign of Thee. I would rather have the cross with Thy presence than the crown in Thine absence. Art Thou in the thunder, and the earthquake, and the fire? That is all I want to know. I ask not the revealing of Thy truth; I ask the revealing of Thee. Keep Thy mysteries in the great deep; bury Thy purposes in the vast silence; conceal, if Thou wilt, the meaning of my terrors and my tears; but tell me — oh! tell me, -that the room which is silent is not empty. Tell me that in the midst of the furnace is one like unto the Son of Man. Tell me that amid the lightnings of Mount Sinai sits the form of the Law-giver. Tell me that the burning bush of Horeb was lit by the torch of love. I am not afraid of any judgment-day where Thou art on the throne; the angel of Thy presence is enough for me.