TheWayLIBRARY

TheWay Library › The Crises of the Christ › Chapter XIX: The Things That Remained

by G. Campbell Morgan

Chapter XIX

The Things That Remained

Px ea some heavenly vision it is well that a pause should be made, and the question asked, What is left when the actual vision has passed, and what is the result of the vision? After

the bright cloud that interrupted the ignorant speech of the disciples, and after the heavenly voice had ceased, what happened? When the cloud overshadowed them, and they heard the voice of God, they fell on their faces in fear. When they opened their eyes and looked around, what was left 2 The answer to that question is to be found in a few minutes’ pause on the mountainside, whence the glory had passed away, and then in a descent from the mountain in the company of Jesus.

I. The transfiguration had been a night scene, and the whiteness of the light radiating from the Person of Christ had been more brilliant and glorious than the dazzling splendour of the snows on Hermon; but the light had passed, and morning was breaking in the eastern sky, with its suggestion of the coming day. But a few moments ago Jesus seemed to be no longer Jesus of Nazareth, but the veritable Son of God — God the Son. But a few moments ago Moses and Elijah were there. But a few moments ago was heard the incoherent suggestion of Peter — “Let us make here three tabernacles.” All this has now passed, and waiting in the quiet hush of the solemn morning hour, upon the mount, see what follows the transfiguration.

Moses and Elijah have gone, gone also is the flashing splendour that lit the night, silenced is the speech that fell upon the astonished ears of Peter, James, and John.

Imagine the disciples for a moment as they looked around them — the silence after the speech, the loneliness after comradeship with celestial visitors, and the usualness of everything. “Lifting up their eyes, they saw no one, save Jesus only.”!

It was a solemn moment. Moses and Elijah had passed, the glory had vanished, the heavenly voice was silent, and they saw “Jesus only.” He was the same Jesus that they had known. Oh, the exquisite beauty of the statement. “Jesus came and touched them and said, Arise, and be not afraid.”1 It was the old familiar touch, the same touch that they had felt so often before. Who shall say that when talking with them, His hand had not rested upon them; or walking with them, His hand had not arrested them, and stayed them for a moment while He spoke to them? The old touch, the human touch of the Son of Man, a Man among them once again, just as they had known Him. It was the old familiar voice, the same Jesus, “Jesus only.”

The same, but yet so utterly different! “Jesus only,” containing in His own Person as now they knew, a glory that was hidden, a veiled splendour that at any moment might flash out, yet hidden for some inscrutable reason. How strangely these men were perplexed will be gathered from all the history of the days that followed the transfiguration until Calvary was reached. They never could think of Him again as they had thought of Him before. For once they had been permitted to look at Him changed, altered, transfigured, shining with all the splendour of that indwelling glory; and even, though He had come back to the old form, and the voice of their Friend and Teacher, and the touch of the Man Jesus, they knew that underneath the veil of that humanity there was hidden a radiant splendour.

In those last days how they would watch Him, and wonder whether at some moment the glory would not flame again in the sight of men. He was never the same again because they had seen more of Him. He was to them “Jesus only,” for evermore the Centre of all things. He remained, the One Who fulfilled the promises of the past, and realised all the hopes created by the messages of God. And not merely was He the One in Whom all past history culminated, but the One from Whom all future history should take its form. From that moment until to-day every upward movement, every movement that has had for its issue the bettering of human condition, the ennobling of the race, all have found their inspiration in the thought, teaching, character, and Person of Christ. He was the essential Light of men, the Light of the world, and all the men who have flung light across the pathway of human life from that moment until now, have not been the Light, but light-bearers, and they have lit their torches from the Light, the Son of God.

“Jesus only” — finality, God’s perfect speech. All the new in the future will be but the more perfect comprehension of Him, and the great ones of all the coming days will learn what He meant, when in simple speech He spoke great eternal verities, which the listening ears of men did not at the time perfectly understand.

If the first impression produced upon the minds of the apostles as they looked around them was that of silence, now that the voice had ceased; and loneliness, now that Moses and Elijah had gone; and the usualness of everything, now that the unusual had passed away; the answer to that first impression was found in the presence of “Jesus only”, for if no heavenly voice sounded, His speech was heard. If Moses and Elijah had passed, He remained, the perpetual Comrade of saintly souls for ali the future. If the unusualness had ceased, they began to find that they were now in the company of One Who could transmute the usual into the unusual, Who could pass with them into the valley, into the home life, into the service of all the coming years until the end; and touching the commonplaces of life, make them flash with splendour, as His body of humiliation shone with glory upon that mount of transfiguration. This was the first thing that these men realised as they rose from their overcoming fear. The vision had passed, Moses and Elijah had gone, the voice was silent, “Jesus only” remained.

II. It is most interesting to trace what happened as these men left the mount. First, notice that as they were coming down with Him, their same Lord and Saviour, the One they had known so well during the three years of ministry, He charged them that they should tell the vision to no man, and there is deepest significance in the command. He enjoined silence upon them because it would be impossible for them to tell aright the story of the things they had seen, for such visions always transcend explanation. There was a limit put upon their silence: “Tell the vision to no man, until the Son of Man be risen from the dead.”! The real reason, undoubtedly, was that these men were to wait until the Holy Spirit Himself should equip them for the telling of that story.

But other things lay within that injunction of silence. The theme for the coming days was not to be the theme of glory, but of the Cross; and Matthew inserts here the fact that He told them again the story of the Cross that had so alarmed Peter six days before the transfiguration. The vision of the glory had its place and purpose, but it must pass away. The multitudes were waiting, the lunatic was in the valley, the Cross and the exodus were before Him. The mountain was the place of vision, but yonder lay the pathway of accomplishment, and in order that His heart might be set upon His exodus, and that they might come as much as possible into comradeship with Him in His gteat work, nothing was to be said of this vision. It was to be one of the sealed stories during the days of suffering. After the triumph of His resurrection and ascension, then it might be remembered, understood, and told in all its meaning.

Probably there was another reason why silence was enjoined on these men. Visions are of no value save to those who see them. No help comes from a recital of some vision granted to another child of God. There is a Divine intention and purpose in that fact. The fact of the vision is not denied. What is affirmed is this, that the vision given to one is not for another, and the repetition of it cannot help another man. The vision of God granted immediately to the soul of man is for the man to whom it is granted. No man can tell his own vision and help another as that vision helped him, so it is infinitely better to be silent about the deepest things that God says to the heart. Each must for himself have the vision, if it is to be of use and of blessing. Peter and James and John were taken to the mount of transfiguration for a set purpose, in order that their conception of death might be changed and altered, that these men who boasted or feared might come to see — as they had seen in the house of Jairus and as they were to see in the garden of Gethsemane — His outlook upon death. The telling of that story of transfiguration to others would not be a help to them, until the Holy Spirit should take the story up and make it part of the unveiling of the glory of the Christ, then out of it should come help for all the Church to the end of the age.

Now they have reached the valley, and there are two things to be noticed. First, the group around the lunatic; and second, the fellowship of the shekel.

There is a touch of great beauty in Luke’s account of the man who brought his son to Jesus, not to be found in Matthew or Mark, which flings a wonderful light upon the whole picture. Luke records that the tan said to Jesus, not only “This is my son,” but “mine only child,”! and the Greek word is “my only begotten son,” the very word that is used of Christ’s relation to God; and here it is used of this devil-possessed child.

It seems to have been a symbolic moment, proving the necessity for the descent from the mount and the approach to Calvary. There in the valley, foremost in the scene, was the father with his boy, his only begotten child; round about were the disciples, defeated, absolutely unable to do anything with such a case as this; and around the disciples was a circle of sceptical scribes ready to taunt these men with their failure. It was a picture of the human race, the only begotten child of man, mastered by evil, and no one to deliver. A father’s love was unable to break the slavery; the loyalty of disciples, as disciples merely, was quite helpless; the cheap cynical sneer of the unbeliever did nothing to relieve the suffering of the devil-possessed boy.. Such was the scene in the valley.

Looking upon it one seems to see approaching, the Only begotten of the Father in Whom He is well pleased, Who speaks with the voice of the authority of heaven, Who will act with all the power of the Godhead behind Him; and the only begotten child of man, beaten, bleeding, and bruised upon the highway and none to deliver.

Hear the words of Christ, which come as a rebuke to the faithless generation:““Bring him hither to Me.”2 For that moment He left the mountain, for that work He turned His back for the second time upon the glory, for that need He declined to have tabernacles made which would detain Him on the mount, while here in the valley humanity was suffering.

“Bring him hither to Me.” Now mark His mastery over all things. “Bring him hither to Me’ — Master of men. He rebuked the devil, “and the demon went out from him: and the boy was

1Luke 9. 38. 2Matt. 17. 17.

cured from that hour”! — Master of demons. The only begotten son of a man was cured by the only begotten Son of God; and Peter, James, and John and the rest stood round and saw the wondrous work that never could have been performed had Jesus stayed upon the mount of vision.

Then note what follows. They went down to Capernaum, and the men who were gathering the shekel for the Temple came to Peter. It is quite a mistake to imagine that the men who asked for this money were collecting a tax for the Roman power. What they were collecting was the half-shekel for the support of the Temple, which according to the old Mosaic economy, was paid at the taking of the census. But gradually it had become an annual payment, and it was for this purely voluntary tax that the Temple authorities came to Peter and said, “Doth not your Teacher pay the half-shekel 2” and he answered, “Yea.”2 It has been suggested that he made a mistake, but no doubt he simply stated a fact. Most probably that half-shekel had been paid during the three years that had passed whenever it had been demanded. Yet Christ had a lesson to teach, and speaking to Peter said, “The kings of the earth, from whom do they receive toll or tribute? from their sons or from strangers?” And when Peter said, “From strangers,” Jesus said unto him, “Therefore the sons are free.” He meant to teach Peter by this that He was what Peter, but a few days ago, had said He was, the Son of God. He was the King’s Son, the Prince of the Temple. There was no need for Him to pay the half-shekel. By His nature and position He was exempt from this contribution to the Temple, nevertheless — and whatever else is forgotten in this study, catch this thought — “Lest we cause them to stumble,’4 I will pay it. The word is “lest we become a scandal to them.” These men would not understand His claim of freedom from the payment of the half-shekel, and rather than cause them to stumble He forfeited His personal right.

Then mark what He said, “Go thou to the sea, and cast a hook, - and take up the fish that first cometh up; and when thou hast opened his mouth, thou shalt find a shekel.” A shekel? But they wanted a half-shekel. “That take, and give unto them for Me and thee.” There are no sweeter words in the Gospel than

1Matt. 17 18. 2Matt. 17. 24. SMatt. 17. 25, 26, ‘Matt. 27:27.

these, “for Me and thee,’” — comradeship, companionship, fellowship with Peter, even to the contribution to the Temple.

Oh, how wondrously was Peter discovering his Master, and how when the Spirit came, and lit up these events, did he love Him and worship Him! King of glory on the mount, Master of human life and of devils in the valley, Comrade of every child of His love, sharing responsibility even to the payment of taxes. He need not have paid the shekel, but He did so with Peter for two reasons: first, not to be misunderstood of the men who collected the tax; and secondly, that He might enter into companionship to the last detail of the commonplaces of daily life with His own disciples. These are the things that follow the mount.

In closing this series there yet remains one or two inferences worth gathering. Although only three disciples saw the transfiguration, while eight others who were loyal in their love and service were shut out, yet not one of these eight was excluded from that which remained when the transfiguration glory had passed. “Jesus only” was not only for Peter, James, and John, but for all the rest, and by this time they have seen Him in His glory, so the vision was only postponed.

And concerning these men, the words of the Master in another connection have application: “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”! There are still those to whom no visions come, no moments upon the mount suffused with a glory that never was on land or sea. Let such not envy the men of vision. It may be that the vision is given to strengthen a faith that else were weak. It is to the people who can live along the line of what others call the commonplace, and yet trust, that the Master says, “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” The morning will reveal the reason why visions are given to some and not to others, but if tempted to wish for such an experience as these men had, let it never be forgotten that the majority of the apostles had no share in it, and yet they fulfilled His will and reached His home, and their names also flash with splendour from the foundations of the city that God is building. Let those who have had no vision trust Him still. Let such as have seen a vision walk in its light, but remember that more precious than the vision is that which remains

john 20. 29.

194 THE CRISES OF LHE “CHRIST

when the vision passes, the common heritage of all the disciples — “Jesus only.”

Lastly, it is all-important to remember that all mounts of vision, save the last, must be left, for the valleys. In the valleys to-day are men possessed of devils; and the scepticism of cheap literature, of which there is much abroad, never took a devil out of a man. It is all in succession to the sneer of the scribe and Pharisees. Jesus Christ standing in the valley to-day can say as He said then, “Bring him hither to Me.”

It is the challenge of His might and the voice of His love, and the business of the disciples is to bring such to Him. He will still cast out the demon as He ever did. Men must leave the mountain for the valley, but they can carry the mountain with them into the valley. They who visit the mount may pass back into the commonplaces of life in new power, taking with them the truth, that behind the commonplace lies the light that flashed upon the mount of transfiguration. Happy are the men who can say with Peter on the mount, “Lord, it is good to be here” — and then, with not a word about the tabernacles, pass to the valley with Him; there they will see Him casting out a demon, and repeat, “Lord, it is good to be here also.” Then, returning to the commonplace, to the payment of taxes, they will hear Him say, “For Me and thee”; and will reply, “Lord, it is good to be here also.” Whether on the mountain, in the valley, or in the home, wherever He is, it is good to be. No house is common where He dwells, no valley is dark and hopeless through which He passes, and no solitary mountain height on which He stands is without possibility of vision. Man’s one safety lies in being with, and listening to “Jesus only.”

From the resplendent glory of this crisis in which, in the fulfilment of His human life, He has faced anew the fact of His dying, the Christ passes on towards the Cross, with the tread of One Who having conquered goes forth to yet sterner battles, and more glorious triumphs.

Open in the readerThe Crises of the Christ

Restored from a scan of the 1903 edition, with page headers and numbers removed and words rejoined across line breaks. Scan-derived text, still being proofread; compare the original scan before quoting.