Worship in the Practical

“They departed into a desert place by ship privately; and Jesus, when He came out, saw much people.” — Mark vi, 32 and 34.

Here was an interrupted purpose of religious rest. The disciples follow Jesus through a private passage with the view of being with Him alone. Presently they find themselves, not in a quiet room as they expected, but in the midst of a vast and crowded hall where the wants of men and women clamour to be known. It seemed an obstacle thrown in the way of their piety. How sweet it would have been to be alone with Jesus, far from the madding crowd! Why are they not allowed to have their little hour of intercourse with the Master, undisturbed by the wheels of life! We of modern times have often asked the same question regarding ourselves. Often have we looked forward to the prospect of freedom from worldly care. We have said, I will get into private life and then I shall have more time for communion with the Spirit of Christ. And lo!

as we come out from the world, we find exactly what the disciples found. We find that the cares of the world have followed us into our retreat, that our life is as crowded as it ever was, that we cannot commune with a solitary Christ. Is this a sad experience? I do not think so. I do not believe that God wishes any man to feel himself alone with Christ. If he did feel himself alone, how could he have communion with Christ’s Spirit! My fellowship with Christ is the sight of His fellowship. Peter wanted a solitary communion on the mountain-top: “Let us make three tabernacles — one for Thee and one for Moses and one for Elias.” Where lay the sting of the proposal? In the wish to include Moses and Elias? Not at all; but in the wish to exclude everybody else. A Christ upon a mountain apart, a Christ whose sympathy was limited to five communicants, a Christ who had no share in the labours of the common day — such was no object for reverence, such was no being to love. If any man seeks a Christ like that, God will immediately send over the mountain a cloud of human cares, and allow the breeze to bear up to the hilltop the cries of the demoniac on the plain.

Let me not think, O Lord, that Thy com- 131 I 2 munion is confined to the private hour! When I have come out from the secret passage into the crowded hall, let me not say I have parted from Thee! I once sought a place for silent prayer; I went to the desert to find it. And lo? when I arrived I could not get near Thee — the pressure of the crowd was so great. And I said,” Why in this world of time hast Thou allowed us so little leisure to prepare for eternity! ‘* But now I understand it, O my God. It is because the preparation for Thine eternity is not leisure. Not in my moments of meditation do I mirror best Thy heaven. I meet Thee oftenest when I am in search of my brother. I never find so short a way to Thy New Jerusalem as when I am beautifying the streets of the Old. I have read that Mary asked the dead body of Thy Christ and found instead a living Lord, So has it been with me; I have found Thy Spirit when I have been helping maji’s body. Never have I seen Thee so clearly as when I was breaking bread to the hungry; never have I loved Thee so dearly as when I soothed a brother’s pain. I sought the friendless children, and I discovered Bethlehem. I visited the humble homes, and I found Nazareth. I followed the tempter’s track, and I met Thy wilderness. I helped the marriage feast, and I recognised Cana. I gladdened a dining-table, and I saw Bethany. I aided the fisherman’s toil, and I stood by the Lake of Tiberias. I bore a neighbour’s cross up the Dolorous Way, and I felt myself on the brow of Olivet. I thank Thee, O Father, that I did not find my desert.