The Gospel and the Acts

“The former treatise have I made, 0 Theophilus, of all that Jesus began both to do and teach.” — Acts i. 1.

IN determining the relation which subsists between the evangelic histories and the Book of the Acts, it is not enough to observe that while the Gospels contain the history of the Master’s own ministry, this book records the labours of the apostles. Both alike narrate the work of the Lord: the Gospels, what he did in person when he was here; the Acts, what he did by the ministry of his chosen witnesses after he had ascended.

This distinction is marked in the first verse. Luke intimates that in the former treatise he had recorded “all that Jesus began both to do and teach;” implying that the history which he is now about to compose will be occupied with what Jesus continued both to do and teach after he had sat down at the right hand of the Father. The distinction is not that the former treatise dealt with what Jesus did, and the latter with what was done by the apostles; the distinction is, that the former treatise told what Jesus did in the first place, and the latter what Jesus did in the second. The first part of Christ’s work has already in the Gospels been recorded; and now in another treatise the second part, or the continuance, of his work will be told. His ministry, death, resurrection, and ascension constituted only the beginning or foundation of the Redeemer’s work. But after the foundation has been laid a lofty temple must be reared upon it; and the builder of this temple is Christ the Lord. When he ascended from the Mount of Olives, a way was opened from earth to heaven; but a multitude whom no man can number must be led by it into glory: and none can lead them but himself, the Captain of their salvation, the Bishop of their souls.

This book, then, is the continuation of “the life of Jesus” by the evangelist Luke. Nor did the Lord’s work on earth cease at the date when this history closes. Hitherto the Son worketh, and will work till the end. He will not cease from his work until the kingdoms of this world shall have all become his own. The working of Christ upon the earth does not cease when the inspired history of it ceases. The track of the Redeemer’s way is marked on this inspired chart only a stage or two into the desert, and there it breaks abruptly off; but the way of the Lord does not stop where this track of it comes to an end. In a map of the city, you may see the road that leads to another city laid down for a little way beyond the wall, and then broken off abruptly in a field. The first stage is traced on the map to show that there is a road, and in what direction it goes; but the road does not terminate in that field a few yards beyond the city walls: the road leads all the way to the capital, and passengers throng it from end to end, from day to day. It is thus that the Book of the Acts marks our Lord’s goings after his resurrection only a stage or two forward as a specimen to show us the character of his rule; but his goings continue

The Gospel and the Acts. with his people still, and will continue until the last of the ransomed shall enter rest.

This latter treatise does not begin precisely where the former treatise ends. By design, and not by accident, the two overlap each other. The resurrection and ascension of Christ constitute the last portion of the Gospel, and the first portion of the Acts. The same facts appear at the close of one book and at the outset of another.

Thus, when a bridge of two arches spans a deep river, both arches lean on one pillar that rises in the middle of the flood. In the midst of the gulf that separated God and man, and in the midst too of the tide of time, stood Jesus: on him the old dispensation rests, and on him the new.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. From the solid shore of a past eternity sprang the covenant of grace; but it bent over and bent down seeldng support in the middle of the ages. It cannot go over from eternity to eternity at a single span. But here and among men there was nothing which could bear our side of the covenant, corresponding to God’s side of it, leaning on eternal righteousness before time began. There was nothing here but a fathomless deep of sin and misery. Man’s extremity was God’s opportunity. Through this flood went the person and the work of Christ, and became a foundation, in humanity, equal to and corresponding with the eternal righteousness which supported the arch at the other side. God-with-us stands up in the sea of humanity, as a pier in mid-stream. Divine justice found a resting-place on him: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Thus the purpose of mercy, like the bow of promise, spanned the space from eternity down to the fulness of time, when the Son of God took our nature, and wrought out a righteousness for us and i in our stead. There stands the arch now, resting on the

The Church in the Hoitse.

Father’s eternal purpose on the one side, and on the Son’s atoning death on the other. In the end of the Gospel history we found the first hemisphere of the Divine dispensation, terminating in Christ crucified and ascended. That part of the redemption was finished when Messiah died. Now, at the beginning of the Acts, we find the second arch springing where the first was finished. This second part begins, as the first part ended, with the death, resurrection, and ascension of the Lord. Resting there, it rises into the heavens, and stretches away into the future. We lose sight of it, as we often lose sight of the rainbow, in mid-heavens; but we know assuredly that it will traverse all the intervening space, and lean secure on the continent of a coming eternity. From shore to shore the way of mercy reaches across the bottomless gulf of fallen humanity, the last side of the first circle and the first side of the second resting both on the representative Man, our Brother and Substitute, the second Adam, the Lord from heaven.

Between the birth of Christ in Bethlehem and his ascension from the Mount of Olives intervened a period of nearly thirty-four years. This space — which, according to the measurements of time, is considerable — becomes a point when it is viewed from eternity; as vast worlds seem shining sparks when they lie deep in the infinitude. The life of Jesus in the world was the point of contact between the finite and the Infinite — the meeting-place between God and man. At that point God touched us, and we were not consumed; we touched him, and yet lived.

“When the Infinite and Eternal would make himself known to us, he needs must fix on a point in space — a moment in time. Somewhere on the surface of this inhabited world, and at some period in the course of the ages, the meeting must take place. In J udaea, and about eighteen hundred and

The Gospel and the Acts. seventy-five years ago, the Word — who was with God, and was God — became flesh, and dwelt among us.

Although, according to our mode of reckoning, the contact extended over a portion of space and a period of time, it will seem only a point, when angels look down on it, or saints look back. With the ascension from the Mount of Olives, Christ’s personal ministry on earth was closed. Here the eclipse went off, and the Sun of Kighteousness shone forth again in the sight of the unfallen, free from the obscuration, partial and temporary, which he had undergone.

When an eclipse comes on the sun, a strange gloom is spread over all the heavens, and the the sun seems to have been robbed of his glory; but when you have waited a while, and marked the changing phases of the phenomenon, you observe that the sun is shaking off the cold shadow of our satellite that seemed to cover his disc. The last remnant of the darkness disappears, and the light of day emerges in all his former glory.

One can well imagine that to angelic spirits, who imperfectly understood his attributes and his plans, the incarnation of the Son might seem like a solar eclipse. Some cold, dark, earthly orb comes in contact with their Lord, and his glory is to their view for the time obscured. Throughout those thirty-three years the angels may have been occupied inquiring in curious wonder what had caused the unwonted dimness of their day; and they may have experienced a glad relief when the obscuration passed off, and He whom they worship resumed his throne.

We, on our part, are permitted to draw near also and behold the great sight. The parting scene is depicted in this history. The Son of God had grasped a fallen world that he might save it, and now he lets that world go again — no, he is not really letting it go; for he has taken hold of our nature and has borne it with him to his throne. He still holds fast this world; ever tight is the line of love that binds him to all his own. Keen and sensitive, as the nerves that nnite head and members, are those lines through which his love thrills down into his people, and their hope goes up to fasten on the anchor, sure and steadfast, within the veil.