Dead

“HE became dead” (Rev. i. 18, R.V., marg.), t.e., the Saviour chose to die and died because He would. From the Transfiguration Mountain He might have stepped into Paradise, by the open door through which Moses and Elijah had come, but to have done this would have been to leave man unredeemed. In the language of an old Christian hymn, it was not death which approached Christ, but Christ death: He died without death. He met it, not as conquered, but as a Conqueror. In the words of the Fourth Evangelist, “He bowed the Head and gave up the Spirit.”

The accompaniments of His death were most remarkable. The earth was rent and the gates of the ancient graves were opened. And in the most Holy Place, the veil of the Temple was rent, and the secrets of the Most Holy Place stood revealed. In this connection it is interesting to notice that Josephus speaks of the mysterious extinction of one of the lights of the Golden Candlestick some forty years before the destruction of the Temple, and the Talmud narrates the 81 supernatural opening of the great Temple-gates. Is it not probable, therefore, that these may be corroboration of the Gospel statement as to the miraculous accompaniments of that wondrous death, which was indeed the death of Death, and the opening of the Kingdom of Heaven to all believers.

There was no doubt that He was dead. In response to the punctilious demand of the Jews, that the end of the sufferers should be hastened, and their bodies removed before nightfall from their crosses, a company of soldiers broke the bones of the two malefactors, but when they came to the cross of Jesus, they found that He was dead already, and so “a bone of Him” was “not broken.” But the unbrokenness of His bones witnessed to the indubitable certainty that He was dead.

To make sure, however, one of the soldiers, with a lance “pierced His side,” making so deep an incision that the risen Lord could challenge Thomas to thrust his hand into it.

From the riven side there came forth Blood and Water, not water only, but water and blood. It has been thought from this that our Lord literally died of a broken heart, because the sac or bag which contains the heart is always filled with serous fluid, when the walls of the heart have burst under some excessive strain. If this were indeed the case, how beautifully it would illustrate the Psalmist’s lament, “Reproach hath broken my heart.” To how many, as they have looked on Him whom they pierced, has this spectacle been the dawn of a new hope. The water and blood have been “‘ the double cure” of sin. By the blood we have been redeemed from sins of the deepest dye, by the water we are cleansed as in the laver of old. We could do without neither.

Dead! Those eyes that wept with pity fast

closed! Those hands that touched blind eyes and leprous skins nerveless! The door of those lips close-locked! That tender heart broken! The temple of His body in ruins! The feet unable to stir from the cruel nail that held them together to the wood! It was thus that men repaid the love of God. By wicked hands they crucified and slew the Prince of Life, who came to them, with eager pity, His hands filled with priceless gifts. But through that death the sad entail of Adam’s sin was averted, and through the open portals of those wounds love has stepped eut upon our world.

The death of Christ has a deep significance in respect to the holiness of Christian character. It cut off from the outer world the Head and King of those who believe, and by union with Him those who are one with Him through a living faith and own Him King must reckon that they also are dead unto sin. Between the world that cast out their Master and themselves, stands His cross, so that it has no desire to come to them, nor do they desire to go to it. Only a heartless Queen could marry the murderer of her dead husband!

It is clear also that to all who are one with Christ, by the affinity of faith and love, that Death has robbed death of its terrors. To quote the old Latin sentence: ‘“‘ The death of death brought death to death by His death.” When the moment of dissolution arrives, and the long union between soul and body must be broken, when we are summoned to that supreme exodus, we shall find that death has been abolished, that its victory and power have passed away — a moment’s shadow, the gentle snapping of a silver cord, the unloosing of the shore-rope, and we shall find ourselves sailing out on a sunlit sea.