The Disguise of Christ

Matthew ix. 30 v.

“And their eyes were opened; and Jesus straitly charged them, saying, See that no man know it.”

Why conceal the miraculous cure? Because He wanted to be loved, not for His wealth, but for His soul. It is one thing to reveal my wealth after you have loved me; it is another to tell it beforehand. If you want to prove your boy’s love of poetry, don’t begin by saying, “this was written by Tennyson.” Authority would compel admiration. Conceal the authority; hide the name; cut out the title-page; present the poem as the work of an unnamed hand. And, if the young eye shall kindle spontaneously, if the young heart shall say, “whoever he be, this is a master mind,” the altar of art shall be glorified. The Son of Man fears to be first known as the Son of God. He is afraid you judge the work by its title-page — accept thp rhythm for the sake of the ring. Therefore, He veils Himself; He enters into a cloud; He puts on the disguise of a servant; He works wonders by stealth; He flies from fame; He buries underground the trophies of His glory. He wants me to love Him for Himself — through the mean apparel, through the human weakness, through the common pain. He wants me to find His pearl in the dust, His beauty in the manger, His crown in the cross. He wants me to see Him by His own light — spirit light, soul light. He meets with me on the road to Emmaus, and talks with me, and makes my heart burn; but He tells me not at first that His name is Jesus. Perhaps I call Him by other names — nature, art, science, culture, humanity. Be it so; mine eyes are holden by His hand. He covers my face, that I may not see His glory. He makes me love Him in disguise. He veils His coronet, that I may come to His inner beauty. Oh blest disguise! Oh glorious veil! Oh revealing silence! My heart finds itself in thee. It has loved a captive, and he is found to be a king; it has adored a manger, and it proves to be a palace. I bless His mightv name that He won my love unknown.