Christ’s Love of Life
John x. 17 v.
“Therefore doth My Father love Me, because T lay down My life, that I might take it again.”
“That I might take it again.” The beauty of Christ’s sacrifice is not its despair. Despair is a spectacle which the Father never loves to see. How could He? Does an artist love to see his work despised? Life is God’s work, and He deems it beautiful. How could He love a man because he wished to lay it down? The desire for death is not a “sacrifice of praise “; it is a criticism on the work of the Father. But if
154 SEARCHrXGS IN THE SILENCE.
death is desired for the sake of life, it makes all the difference. If death is sought, not because life is sad, but because life is dear, then the search for death is a tribute to the Father. So was it with the Son of Man. None felt like Him the glory of living. Life was so beautiful that He was willing to die for it. Not in grief, but in prospective joy, did He yield Himself to the Cross. If He had despaired more, He would have sacrificed less. It was the worth, and not the worthlessness, of living that made Him die. His dying was an act of praise to the Giver of life; therefore, the Giver of life loved it. He laid existence down that He miff lit take it agrain. My soul, dost thou know what this meaneth: “Enter ye into the joy of your Lord “? Thinkest thou that the joy of thy Lord is something which comes after the sacrifice? No; it is that which prompts the sacrifice. Are not thy deepest sacrifices prompted by a joy? Whence thy laborious nights of study? They are from joy — the joy of possibly seeing the opened heavens. Whence thy self-denying poverty? It is from joy — the joy of saving to make another rich. Whence thy sojourn in lane and alley, in the homes of misery and the haunts of sin? It is from joy — the joy of perhaps beholding the spirits in prison set free. Do not wait for thy Lord’s joy until the battle is over and the victory won. It is for the battle that thou needest it. Nothing can conquer death but the love of something in life. It is by the rose thou shalt bear thy thorn. It is by the sun thou shalt meet thy cloud. It is by the calm thou shalt face thy storm. It is by the bread of to-morrow thou shalt brave the hunger of to-day. It is thy star that guides thee to thy cross; the flame that lights thy fire is the torch of hope. If thou wouldst sustain the winter’s cold, thou must bathe first in the summer warmth. Let not thy life go down till thou canst take it asrain.