The Christian Victory Over Sorrow

“He saith to the sick of the palsy, Arise, take up thy bed, and go into thine house.” — Mark ii. id, ii.

This man was made to reverse his relation to his former cross. He had been a paralytic. He had been brought to Jesus on a bed. His bed was his cross, and his cross had borne him down. But when he had met Jesus, instead of the bed taking up him, he took up the bed! His earliest strength was manifested in the lifting of that which had once weighed him down! One would have thought that a man who had just got rid of his cross would have run from his cross, would have left it on the highway and fled. Not so this cured paralytic. He embraces the emblem of his former pain — he carries his bed! So will it ever be with the Christian. He will not scorn the calamity from which he has been emancipated. He will not deem that his calamity was a loss of time. He will say, *’ I have got rid of it to-day because it is no longer my portion for to-day; but I still believe 164

it was my portion for yesterday.” And because he feels that the cross was good for his yesterday, he will take it up tenderly after his cure. He will bear it into his house and keep it there — keep it as a memory. That is the difference between Christ and other masters. They, as well as He, profess to lift you from your bed; but they consign the bed itself to oblivion. Theirs is the gospel of extrication; it offers to cast your cross into the sea. But His is the gospel of vindication; it defends your cross in the very act of removing it. It bids you take up the bed on which you were lying. It tells you to carry it home, to make it a part of your furniture, to claim it as an item of your household riches. To triumph n Christ is not simply the abolition of pain but the transformation of pain — not merely the death of sorrow but the turning of sorrow into joy. Others may promise instead of a cross a crown; with Him the cross is made the crown. Others may promise to transport you from a valley into a mountain; with Him it is the valley itself that has to be exalted. Others may promise to remove all obstacles from your path; with Him it is the crooked things themselves that are to be made straight and the rough places themselves that are to become plain. Others may say, “Arise, and forget thy bed;”

with Him the mandate is, “Arise, take up thy bed and walk.”

Lord, I have heardmen say, “Go, bury thy sorrow.” Yet methinks the peace which Thou givest is deeper than that. I could bury my sorrow without Thee. I could bury it in the wine-cup. I could bury it in the excitement of a cause. I could bury it in a withered heart. I could bury it in a winter of old-age whose snows benumbed the sense. The world could give my sorrow decent burial if that were all I needed. But that is not all I need. It is not forgetfulness of my cross that I most require; it is glorified remembrance. I want my cross not to be buried, but to be lifted up — raised into the sunlight. The world cannot do that for me, O Lord. It can say, “Bury thy sorrow,” but not, “Take up thy bed.” Thou canst say, “Take up thy bed.” Thou canst show me not merely the burial of my cross, but its resurrection into newness of life. Thou canst transform my thorn into a flower. And I want my thorn transformed into a flower. Job has got the sunshine after the rain; but has the rain been all waste! Job wants to know, and I want to know, if the shower had nothing to do with the shining. And Thou canst tell me — Thy cross can tell me. Olivet is not the death of Calvary; it is Calvary in bloom. Thou hast not buried Thy

sorrow; Thou hast crowned Thy sorrow. Be this my crown, O Lord! The world can dry my tears, the world can drown my cares; but I only triumph in Thee when I have learned the radiance of the rain.