Herod Vexes the Church
’ Now about that time Herod the king stretched forth his hands to vex certain of the Church. And he killed James the brother of John with the sword,” etc. — Acts xii. 1-8.
IN the beginning of chapter xi. we learned that sufferings separated those who were united; and so the truth was spread: in the end we learned that sufferings united those who were separated; and so, by contributing food to the Jewish Christians, the Gentile Christians bridged with love the dividing gulf, and permitted the body of Christ to flow into one.
When the converted Greeks at Antioch learned by prophecy that the brethren in Judaea would soon be in straits, they forthwith began to make contributions. Evidently they were cheerful givers. They would not murmur when the subscription list came round. They counted it blessed to give, and were ready. Before the calamity came, it was provided for.
The scene chancres. From Antioch we are conducted back to Jerusalem again. After intimating that the door was opened among the Greeks, the historian proceeds to show that it was shut among the Jews. Indeed it was the shutting of the door at Jerusalem that opened it at Antioch. “When one channel was closed, the pent-up waters escaped by another. It was the persecution at home that drove the preachers abroad.
But now another stage of the process is exhibited. Closer and closer was the door shut at Jerusalem; wider and wider it opened toward the Greeks. By his apostles, as well as in his own personal ministry, Christ came unto his own, and his own received him not.
The king who appears here is Herod Agrippa, grandson of Herod Antipater who slew the infants of Bethlehem, and son of Herod Antipas who beheaded the Baptist. He was mild in his natural temper, but fond of popularity. He persecuted the Christians not of his own motion, but to please the Jews. Hence the rejection of Messiah lies articulately on the Jewish people and their priests. To please them, Pilate delivered Jesus to be crucified; to please them, Herod Agrippa killed James, the brother of John, with the sword.
Hitherto the lives of the faithful apostles had been preserved. Like Daniel in the lions’ den, they had been kept from the power of their enemies. The Lord reigneth; and for a time he threw a shield round the chiefs of the infant Church. While the flax is only smoking, he will not permit a blast to blow on it, lest the feeble life should be quenched; but when the fire has gained some head, he allows the blast to come, that it may be fanned into a greater flame.
Keeping Judas out of view, this is the first breach in the apostolic circle. They had in some measure learned to walk by faith, and even the fall of an apostle will not crush them now. In the case of James, the Lord shows that he will not always interfere to protect his servants from their enemies; and in the case of Peter, he shows that he will interfere sometimes, lest the spirit should fail before him, and the souls that he has made. He will not suffer his people to be tempted above that they are able to bear.
The first martyrdom in the apostolic college marks for us a law of the kingdom. It illustrates the meaning of Messiah’s word, “My kingdom is not of this world!” Not an inch of this world’s surface will Christ maintain for himself by the sword. The kingdoms of this world will one day be all his; but they will be subdued by the sword of the Spirit. It was Antichrist that gathered mercenaries from many lands to sustain the Roman bishop’s throne, and crush the liberty of the Roman people.
Observing that no Divine power was put forth either to protect James or avenge his death, this weak and unjust king ventured a step further in the same course. Finding that one murder procured him favour with the J ewish people, he determined to perpetrate another. Peter was designated as the next victim. He was arrested and imprisoned. The plan of the persecutor was to gratify the people by a public trial and public execution of the most distinguished follower of Jesus.
But the remainder of the king’s wrath it pleased God in this instance to restrain. To this raging sea the word of its Maker came, “Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further.”
“Peter therefore was kept in prison; but prayer was made,” etc. This is a remarkable antithesis. Man proposes, but God disposes; and the prayer of faith reaches the Disposer’s hand. James was suddenly seized and taken off; but in Peter’s case there was time for the whole Church to unite in their prayer for his preservation. God in providence opened a door of opportunity through Herod’s desire to keep all quiet till after the passover: the Church eagerly entered that door. They “inquired”’ by a concert of prayer; and God in heaven was “inquired of” by them to do it for them.
Four times four soldiers were employed to guard the prisoner. The night was divided into four watches; and four watched at one time — two chained to the prisoner, and two on guard at the prison-door.
On the morrow Herod meant to bring the victim out, for he will politically or hypocritically comply with the rule that no trial should take place on the feast-day. As soon as the service of God shall be over, we shall gratify the mob with the shedding of innocent blood! On the morrow! It seems a thin veil of one night’s darkness that hangs between these wild beasts and their prey, that hangs between these suppliant disciples in John Mark’s house and their great bereavement. The prayer- meeting is prolonged into the night — is prolonged to the morning. A mighty pressure is then brought to bear on the door of the kingdom — on the heart of the King. This is the violence that takes the kingdom by force. The pressure increases as the night wears on, and at last prevails. The Lord within the veil loved to feel that strain. He delights to answer such a cry.
Peter, meanwhile, was sleeping. That sleep was the triumph of faith. Peter’s sleep in the prison that night was as much glory to God as his wakefulness would have been, although he had sung psalms till the rafters rang again. Peter slept in Gethsemane, with the two brothers, on the night of the Master’s supreme agony. Then he slept through weakness of the flesh; now and here he sleeps through the strength of his faith. There he slept through weariness, although his Lord was enduring agony; here he sleeps in confidence, because his Lord was exalted to the throne of heaven, mindful and mighty to protect his own.
Argyle’s sleep, an incident in Scottish history, commeliorated by art in the Legislative Hall of Westminster, shines out as a bright particular star among the honoured deeds of our ancestors in a heroic age. The deep, placid sleep of the innocent Scottish noble on the morning of his martyrdom was a better testimony to his valour than any that could have been borne on the battle-field.
Here is a precious lesson in this latter end of the world. How sweet it is to lie down every night, reconciled to God in Christ, and at peace, ready, if the Lord should so will, to awake in the eternal world! This privilege need not be the rare attainment of a few; for it is offered as free as the air to all. “Whosoever will, let him come.” “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
“The apostle sleeps; a light shines in the prison,
An angel touched his side:
Arise, he said; and quickly he hath risen,
His fettered arms untied.
“The watchmen saw no light at midnight gleaming, — They heard no sound of feet: The gates fly open, and the saint, still dreaming, Stands free upon the street.
“So, when the Christian’s eyelid droops and closes
In Nature’s parting strife,
A friendly angel stands, where he reposes,
To wake him up to life.
“He gives a gentle blow, and so releases
The spirit from its clay;
From sin’s temptations, and from life’s distresses,
He bids it come away.
“It rises up, and from its darksome mansion
It takes its silent flight,
And feels its freedom in the large expansion
Of heavenly air and light.
“Behind, it hears Time’s iron gates close faintly, — It is now far from them;
For it has reached the city of the saintly,
The New Jerusalem.”
J. D. Burns.