Seen with Christ in the Garden
He question is, “Did not J see thee in the garden with Him?” We did not want to be observed: we were far from courting observation. There are some of the Lord’s people who would like to go to heaven without being seen with the Lord Jesus in che streets by daylight. They would be saved, and yet never be seen with their Saviour. I do not think that the sin of this age, with most Christians, is obtrusiveness; far more likely it is unholy fear. Some think it modesty; but I question whether this is its real name. I will not call it cowardice, but I will take their own expression, and callit backwardness. They say they are ofa “retiring” disposition, which I interpret in a way very little to their credit. I have heard of a soldier who was of a very “retiring” disposition when the battle was on, and he retired with great diligence as soon as the first shots were fired. I think I heard that he was hung up as a deserter and a coward. No good comes of a retiring disposition of that kind. We have that sort of “retiring” person with us nowadays but such
people will have to answer for it when the Lord denies those who denied Him.
* John xviii.
Without desiring to be known, you that have been with Christ have been found out; you have been seen in the garden with your Lord, by those associated zn family life with you. They were not long before they discovered that you were a Christian. A man who carries in his hand otto of roses will soon be known to bear it by the perfume which is scattered abroad. He that has grace in his heart needs not to advertise it; it will advertise itself. Mother finds out that there is something very different in John from what there used to be. Sister Jane finds out that Mary seems quite altered from what she used to be. Father discovers that mother is so different from what she was a little while ago. Like water ina leaking vessel, religion oozes out. Love to Jesus is sure to be found ‘ out. Believe me, your friends know that you follow Jesus. They have known it long, and they will yet say to you, “Did not I see thee in the: garden with Him?” You were observed at private prayer. You were noticed reading the Scriptures. At first you blushed to find it commended, or to find it blamed; you do not do so now, for you are aware that everybody knows it. If you have not been found out, I should think you have no grace to spare, for even a little true religion is spied out in these days.
And you have been found out dy certain curious people who are always prying about. We do not admire them, but we can never get rid of them — certain persons from whom no secret can ever be hid. They seem to know things by instinct, and they tell them by compulsion, whispering them with the preface that nobody must repeat what they say, though they themselves take license to communicate the secret
to everybody they meet. These tattlers soon find out that a man is a Christian, and they speedily spread the intelligence, not always with pleasure — in some instances with malicious sarcasm. They ferret out the fact of your change, and when they see you, they sneeringly ask, “Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?”
Especially will this be known ¢o those who are affected by our procedure. The gentleman whose ear had been cut off knew Peter. So did his kinsman, who, to his alarm, saw a sword come so very close to his kinsman’s skull. Herecognized Peteratonce; and no wonder. It was only by the flash of one of those torches that he caught a glimpse of the disciple with the sword; but, as Peter cut off that man’s cousin’s ear, the impression made was particularly vivid. So, if you begin to talk about Christ to people, if you ask them whether they are saved, some of them will thank you for your holy anxiety; but others, who choose to feel annoyed, will judge that you wantonly tread upon their corns, and they will feel that you have assaulted them. Deal faithfully with their souls, and they will photograph your portrait on the sensitive plate of a very. angry nature. They do not want to see you any more. They “fight shy” of you, and so on; for they judge you to be very rude and personal. I hope that you will always have a little company of friends who will remember you by reason of their smarting ears, I do not invite you to cut their ears off; quite the reverse: rather heal their ears with a touch of Christ’s golden ointment; but at the same time, make their €ars to tingle with your warnings and entreaties, Tell them about Christ crucified; and then the next time they see you, they will say, “That is the man who spoke to me about my sin and my Saviour.” Be recognized because of the earnestness of your concern for the salvation of others.
As we have been in the garden with Jesus, and we have been seew there, we are now the subjects of very high expectations; that is to say, people expect a great deal from those who are known to be associated with Jesus. They are very unreasonable sometimes, and expect far more than they are warranted in looking for, and consequently much more than they will ever get. I have known some expect young Christians, who have just come to Christ, to be perfect — to know everything, to be able to preach a sermon, pray in public, give a five-pound note, and listen patiently to all the nonsense everybody chooses to talk. Well, they may expect what they like; but they will not get unreasonable things. Should we expect from another what we cannot render ourselves? In these days they expect a man to do everything, and then to attempt more. When you have toiled from morning to night, and laid yourself out in your Master’s service — time, talents, substance, everything — somebody will snarl because you cannot do what he demands of you. The mercy is that we are not the servants of man: we are the servants of God; and if we please our Master, that is quite enough for us. One master is enough for the best of servants. If we are popular in heaven, we may wisely be indifferent to the judgments of men,
You see the world expects a good deal of us, and when the world does not get it, the question may be very properly put to us,“Dzd not I see thee in the garden with Him?” It isa salutary thing for a man to know that his inconsistency is observed. Then he begins to see himself as others see him. It is very painful, very disagreeable; but, at the same time, very likely to bless the man. A man is apt to get a little angry about it; but it isa good thing for him to know how his conduct strikes other people. I have read of an old lady who gazed into a looking-glass, and remarked that they did not make good mirrors nowadays, for those which she used to look into, fifty years ago, showed her quite different from what she now was. The looking-glasses were very inferior in these times. When the world observes that your character is inconsistent, it may be that it is a truthful looking-glass, although it does not exhibit your beauties, but shows up your wrinkles and blotches. Do not quarrel with the looking-glass, but quarrel with your own self. Depend upon it, you are disfigured with spots which you need to get rid of. Whenconvicted by your conscience of an inconsistency, even though the conviction comes to you through an unkind, ungenerous remark of a wicked man, yet still take the lesson home, and go to God for grace and forgiveness, and begin again. A very plain-spoken enemy may do us ten times more service than an indulgent friend.
Such a question as this should effectually recall us to holiness — to deep repentance of the past, and to strong resolves for the future. I will imagine that a certain Christian man has come to town for a holiday, and during the season of his holiday in London, he is asked by a friend to go to a questionable place of amusement. I will imagine that he yields to the invitation and goes; though I am sorry even to imagine such a thing. Well, he has gone where he should not have gone; and I should like some venerable minister, some saint of God, to meet him in the street as he comes out, and say to him, “Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?” What a rebuke! How it would cut him to the heart! I have heard that even professing Christians, when they go over to Paris, will go where they ought not to go; and they have pleaded, as an excuse, that they wanted to see the manners and customs of the Continent. To put it in plain English, they want to join in with the manners and customs of the devil. You have no more right to go into wrong places in Paris than in London. I should quite as soon be seen in a theatre or a music-hall in London as in Paris; indeed, I am told that our home production is by far the safer of the two. You have no right to go anywhere where you are ashamed to be seen by Christian people, or by the whole world. We are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses in heaven and in hell, and we should mind how we act. Take that to yourself, if you have crept into the devil’s dominions on the sly. Someone will catch you there, and say, “Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?”
And if you are ever tempted to conceal your religion, then I hope that this question will come whistling in your ears, “Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?” I have sometimes been obliged to a wicked world for what it has done to inconsistent professors of religion. I remember a young man, in my early pastorate, going to a certain place of doubtful fame, and in the midst of a dance, somebody cried out, “That is one of Spurgeon’s people. Fling him out of the window.” And out he went. I felt grateful for that act of discipline from the adversary. I wish that they would fling out of the window all who dare come in among the people of God while their hearts are with the world and its evil pleasures. Those who were gathered in that assembly felt that they did not want the company of a downright hypocrite, and so they put him out of their synagogue. If you should ever be found in “gay company,” or even in respectable company where evangelical doctrine is at a discount, I hope you will have things made uncomfortable for you. If you hold your tongue and are quiet, and try to be one of the clan, where Jesus is dishonoured, I hope this question will fall into your ear like a drop of burning lava, “Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?” Stand up for your Master in all companies and in all places, or else renounce His service.
“Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?” I should like to be welcomed with that question as I enter the skies at the last. I should not object to have that spoken to me by some bright spirit as I pass) through the pearly gates: “Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?” “Yes, bright seraph, you may have seen me; and now you see that He casts not off His poor friend in the day of His glory.” The angel of the Lord saw you when you repented, he spied you out in that little room where you wept alone because of sin. Upstairs in the solitary chamber, where you told the Lord how father and mother were opposed to you, and yet you meant to follow the Lamb in all the ways of service and obedience, you were “seen of angels.” Beloved, the brave adherence of the least of our Lord’s disciples is seen, known, and remembered in heavenly places. In the last great day you that have been with Christ here, and trusted Him amid the clouds, and the darkness, and the derision, shall see Him, and reign with Him, and He shall acknowledge you as His, since you were in the garden with Him in the day of His humiliation.