Near the Heart of Christ

Ever to turn to.
Mighty my will is
To cleave to the Crucified:
My claim for shelter
Is — right to the Rood.

C^dmon’s Cross Lay.

Some one wrote of Whittier, “To live near the heart of Christ was his creed.” This should be the creed of every Christian. It is to such a life of intimacy with him that Jesus invites all of his friends. “Continue ye in my love,” was his exhortation. That is more than coming now and then, for an hour, into the warmth of his love. Perhaps most Christians do little more than this. They try to get into the love of Christ for a few moments in the morning, before they go out into the world’s chill air. In the evening, too, when the day’s toils, tasks, and struggles are over, they creep back into the love of Christ for a benediction, as they confess faults, failures, and sins, and ask for forgiveness. They like to be folded near the heart of Christ during the night. It is a safe place to be through the dark hours.

Then they try to come into the love of Christ on Sundays, when they meet with God’s people for prayer. Especially at the Lord’s Table do they feel that they are in the warmth and tenderness of the love of Christ, when they receive the emblems of the supreme act of that love. These moments and hours of nesting near the heart of Jesus are very precious. They are full of blessing. They exalt these lives of ours, and give us visions of heavenly glory.

But there is something better than this possible to the believer in Christ. To continue in the love of Christ is to dwell all the while, without break, without interruption, in this love. In the Revised Version, the word is abide ‘’ — “Abide ye in my love.” To abide is to make one’s home in the place; we are to make our home in the love of Christ. Not only in the morning hour of prayer, when we are seeking blessing for the day, are we to linger in this warmth, but just as really are we to stay in it when we go out into the midst of the world’s strifes and duties.

Work is not incompatible with communion with Christ. Duty does not disturb the glow of true religion. If only our heart be right and our life sincere, we may abide in the love of Christ just as really when we are busy with our common tasks and toils, as when we are bending over our Bible, or kneeling in prayer, or receiving the Lord’s Supper.

Jesus said, “If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my Father’s commandments, and abide in his love.” It is a wonderful measure of nearness that is thus made possible to us, — we shall abide in Christ’s love, even as he abides in his

Father’s love. It seems almost incredible that such intimacy, such closeness, as that which existed between Christ and his Father, should be possible to us. Yet it is nothing less than this that is promised.

Then the way we can attain this unbroken abiding is also made very plain: If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love.’* We do not secure this nearness to the heart of Christ by staying always on our knees in prayer, by reading our Bible all the day, or by living in a monastery, hidden away from the world, devoting all our time to prayer and devotion; we secure it by obeying Christ’s commandments. The work we are called to do will not break the holy communion. Indeed, there are times when we can abide in the love of Christ only by earnestly engaging in active service. The mother must leave her closet of prayer to care for the teaching and training of her children, and for her many household tasks. The Christian man would not be staying near the heart of Christ if he were to spend his days in reading his Bible and in prayer, to

I go THE HIDDEN LIFE,

the neglect of his business and his public duties.

There is need for a hidden life of devotion, to keep the heart warm and full of heavenly inspirations; but the real abiding in Christ is in the field. We are ordained, not to be closet-saints, but to bear fruit, to do our part in the busy world’s work, to stand for God among men. We can abide in the love of Christ only by keeping his commandments; and these bid us forth to duty, to activity, to self-denial, to sacrifice. Jesus did not spend all his time on the mountain top, or in the garden, in communion with his Father. He went to these holy resorts to receive strength, to renew his wasted energies; but the larger part of his life was given up to duty, to ministering among the people, to witnessing for his Father before men. If we fail to keep the commandments that call us to work, we shall break the fellowship which is the mark of living near the heart of Christ.

Meeting temptation, carrying burdens, facing dangers, mingling with people and ministering to them, — none of these experiences or duties will interfere with true closeness to Christ, if meanwhile we are living obediently. Nothing will interrupt this communion and hide the light of the love of Christ, but sin. Sin is the only undivine thing in this world, and only sin can hinder our living near the heart of Christ.

The word abide suggests a home. It is interesting to think of the love of Christ as our true home. We know what a shelter a happy home is. We flee there from the world’s strifes and temptations, and find safety. No enemy can follow us through the door. The love of Christ is a refuge, a place of shelter. There is something very sacred in the thought of the old hymn which speaks of Christ as a great rock, — ‘* Rock of Ages, cleft for me.’’ We abide in Christ’s very heart.

But home is more than shelter; it is also a place of communion. There hearts are sure of each other. There love flows. To abide in the love of Christ is to stay in its light and warmth as one dwells in a happy home. For continuing in the love of Christ does not mean to continue loving Christ, but to continue in the consciousness of being loved by Christ, to stay where the blessedness of that love shall ever stream about us. We know what it is to abide in human love. It is to live in such perfect, unhindered relations with one who is dear to us that nothing ever intercepts the flow of light and joy from his heart. There is no misunderstanding, no estrangement in feeling or affection, no disturbing of confidence. We continue in our friend’s love. To abide in Christ’s love is to live so that there shall never be even a shadow between his face and our heart. That is what it is to have the heart of Christ for our soul’s home. The communion is unbroken.

There is no other spiritual culture like that which comes from such abiding in the love of Christ. Companionship with noble natures is always wondrously refining. A pure friendship with one of lofty spirit is most enriching in its influence upon our life. “I had a friend,” was given as the secret of a transformation of character which attracted many eyes. But there is no friendship that so exalts and ennobles a life as that of Christ. To abide in his love is to let that love enter the heart and permeate the whole being.

We have the story of St. John as an illustration of what living near the heart of Christ will do for a man of common mould. There are indications that John was not at first the disciple of gentle love whom we know in later life. He was of fiery and resentful mood, a son of thunder. But one happy day he followed Jesus, and was invited to his dwelling-place for a long talk. From that time he continued to live near Christ’s heart of love. He seems to have entered more deeply into fellowship with his Master than any other one of the disciples. Abiding in the warmth of that blessed love, he absorbed its sweetness into his own soul, and was transformed into the same spirit.

It is interesting to notice that John spoke of himself, not as the disciple who loved Jesus, but as the disciple whom Jesus loved. It was not his loving of Christ that wrought the wonderful change in him, but Christ’s loving of him. It was as when a diamond lies in the sunshine until the sunshine enters into it, and then in the darkness shines, emitting the soft light which had hidden away in it while it was lying in the sun’s beams. John dwelt in the love of Christ until his own nature was filled with Christ’s love; then those who saw him saw the shining of Christ’s beauty in his face.

It was the same in greater or less measure with all the friends of Christ. Mary sat at his feet and heard his words, abiding in his love, and her life became wondrously beautiful. St. Peter, when he came first to Jesus, was an unspiritual man, unrefined, with undisciplined nature. Jesus looked into his heart, and seeing there the possibilities of fine character and great strength, said to him, ‘* Thou art Simon; thou shalt be Peter.” It was not easy to make an ideal Christian man of Simon; but he, too, stayed near the heart of the Master, abiding in his love, and in that place of softening, mellowing power, as in a divine alembic, his coarse, rugged nature was changed into a gentleness, a sweetness, and a beauty which made his one of the most influential personalities of all Christian history.

So it has been through all the centuries. Personal friendship with Jesus has been making the world over again. Men and women have been abiding in the love of Christ, with more or less closeness; and the love of that heart has entered into them and made them Christians.

Not all Christians, however, are staying near to that infinite source of all spiritual life and power. Some are living afar off; the multitude seek no special closeness to the Master, are satisfied with a very ordinary fellowship; only the few long for that abiding in which John was so wondrously blessed.

If we keep ourselves in the love of Christ continually, we shall be led into closer and ever closer fellowship with him; and then what our friends call the end, when they stand by us at the last, will be but passing through the veil into the perfect communion.

*’ What if, mind and thought decayed,
Old, I lose thee from my ken.
Thou chiefest of the sons of men,
And thy worth from memory fade;
O most loving Lord! what then?

Nay, but thou wilt not forget;

In thy memory lives my boast;

On the everlasting coast
Thou wilt meet and own me yet,

To the end and uttermost.’*