Christ Unseen, but Loved
Whom, having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory: receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls.” — i Peter i. 8, 9.
^V^’^rvy/HE sixth verse begins, and the eighth ends, with a Greek word expressive of leaping, bounding joy.* It is strange that such a word should be used of the feelings experienced by handfuls of scattered saints over whom the dark thunder-clouds of persecution were beginning to gather heavily. And yet it is not strange when we study the sources of that joy, which are included within these golden brackets, the first of which we considered in our previous chapter. Is there not joy in the thought that trial is the refiner’s fire, sharp but salutary — the necessary preparation for results of immeasurable blessedness.’’ And is ihere not yet deeper cause for joy, triumphant and exulting, in the relation into which we have been brought with Jesus Christ our Lord?
Yes, the iron may hiss, and the fire sting; friends may desert, and foes may threaten; the cold waters may creep up around our person, and the shadows of the dark valley fling themselves between us and the sunshine; nevertheless, whatever be the nature or severity of our manifold trials, it shall be enough for us to know that they are working out the results of untold glory, and that nothing can break that holy and blessed personal relationship into which we have entered with Him whom Bernard never tired of addressing as Jesus Master.
Jesus, then, is the Heart and Centre of these burning words; words which recal the thrice-repeated question of the
* dyoXXtao) — to rejoice exceedingly.
Lake of Galilee, Lovest thou Me? and the never-to-be-forgotten beatitude of the upper chamber, Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed! (John xx. 29). And is not this text an epitome of Christianity? What makes us Christians except that we believe in and love Him whose receding form was veiled by the chariot-cloud that swept beneath Him as He passed home to heaven? We may accept and appreciate the words of many of the world’s great thinkers, whilst we concern ourselves but little with the men themselves; but we may not do this with the words of Christ, and still be Christians. We cannot take his words, and ignore Him. Christianity is the personal relationship of the soul to Christ. Begin, not with his words, but with Himself; and when you possess Him, you cannot fail of having all He said, and did, alid is, and will be, world without end.
I. An Unseen Christ — a Possible Hindrance to Exulting Joy. — “Not having seen”; “Now ye see Him not.” To a superficial thinker this privation of a personal vision of Jesus might be deemed sufficient to put all after-ages on a lower platform than that glad first one which looked upon his face — the face which reflected the moods of his tranquil and holy nature; which lit up homes of sorrow and lives of despair with the radiance of hope; which attracted little children to his embrace; and which often shone with the gleam of celestial communications, glancing between Him and God. Surely not to have seen it might count as an irreparable los6!
An old divine said that he wished he could have seen three things — Rome in her glory; Paul preaching at Athens; and Christ in the body. And it was because of their desire to satisfy themselves, and to meet this great longing, that the great painters of Christendom covered the walls of picture galleries with conceptions of the face of Jesus. Crowds have stood transfixed and touched before these masterpieces of art. But who has not turned from the very noblest of them with a sigh of dissatisfaction, and a secret conviction that even if the sublimest feature were to be taken out of each separate picture and all combined into one, the face so composed must still
40 (Kljriat Mnscctt, but lohcir.
fall infinitely short of that in which Deity and humanity met, and shone, and wept, and loved. We shall never see anything worthy of that face till we see Him as He is. “They shall see his face,” and “the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (Rev. xxii. 4; 2 Cor. iv. 6).
But is there not hardship and irreparable loss in this? Not so. He can be nearer, dearer to us to-day, than if those old blessed days in which He walked with his disciples over the hills of Galilee, or fell asleep in the stern of Peter’s boat, had been drawn out like a golden thread throughout the centuries. We could not have always had Him then. Domestic duties; the needs of the world; the requirements of food, or business, or sleep — must have taken us from his side. Or, at the best, we could only have known Him as part of a great multitude, all of whom would have been equally eager to possess Him for themselves. In the press of saints and apostles we must have necessarily occupied the outer rim of the vast crowd, and been satisfied with a transient glimpse, or with such beams as those which travel from our sun to Uranus, on the extreme limits of our system. And amid it all, there might have been a strong temptation to such earthly, sensuous love as made the woman of the crowd exclaim, “Blessed is she that bare thee, and the breasts which thou hast sucked;” expressions which He corrected by immediately recalling the thoughts of the crowd to the greater blessedness of those who “hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke xi. 28).
If we had seen Him once, or might see Him still, our joy would have been dashed with the pain of losing Him; of intermittent fellowship; or of the necessity of sharing Him with others. It would have been too deeply-rooted in the outward and physical. It would have languished when manifold trials intercepted its vi-sion. It could never have possessed that vigour; that independence of circumstances; that power to defy imprisonment, solitude, and desertion; that buoyant and heavenward ardour — which indicate that its temper is celestial, its nature Spirit-given. Therefore the invisibility of Jesus, which might have seemed inimical to our joy, so far from being so, is rather a condition of its existence in the soul; and for this reason, that as a spiritual presence our dear Lord can be more to us and more with us, than if He had lingered ever on our earth. Did He not therefore say Himself, “It is expedient for you that I go away “? Christ dwelling in our heart by the Spirit, with us, around us, in us, is infinitely more than He could have been to us, though, like Peter, James, and John, we had been the chosen companions of His earthly life.
n. Two Links unite us to the Unseen Lord. — “Ye love.” “Believing” (8). It is hard to say which is first or chief We cannot love without believing, nor can we believe without loving. Faith is light; and love is heat. Where one enters, the other follows. Woven in the texture of each of heaven’s sunbeams, we cannot have one without the other; and our joy will be in direct proportion to the presence of these twin celestial sisters in our souls.
(i) As to Love. — No man is a Christian who does not love the Lord Jesus. “If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, ht him be anathema” (i Cor. xvi. 22). This is the touchstone of trial for each one of us; not what we profess or say, but whether we love, and how much. But let us remember that love reveals itself differe7itly according to that aspect of Christ’s person or work on which the Spirit has fixed the beholder’s eye. In some, conscious of a great deliverance, it takes the form of gratitude. In others, smitten with the beauty of his character, oi complacency. In others, again, pre-occupied with his claims, of reverential devotion to his service. The symptoms of its presence are manifold. Sometimes adoring silence; at others irrepressible tears; or the sudden burning of the cheek; or unostentatious acts of mercy; or steadfastness in confessing Him at all costs. Love betrays itself, whether it fetches water from the well of Bethlehem at peril of life, or comes with precious spikenard to anoint the dear body of the dead.
Those that love Christ most, often accuse themselves of not loving Him. Their love so conceives of Him that He seems deserving of something infinitely better than they can give. They love Him so much, that they would be almost prepared to make way for any who could love Him better; and yet to stand aside would be agony. Let such take heart! He who knows all things, knows how much they love. And, after all, love is measured, not by feelings, or sighs, or tears, but by acts. You love Christ by just as much as you are prepared to do, or suffer, or give up for Him.
I/o2c, may we love Christ 7iiore? — Spend much time alone in contemplating what He has done for you; and what He is, as the “chiefest among ten thousand “and the” altogether lovely.” Stir the inner fire by means of memory; and let hope pile on it the fuel of promise till it begin to blaze. Cultivate the habit of speaking aloud to Him, in an empty chamber, or a lonely walk, until He be interlaced in the tiniest episodes of existence. Open your heart to the entrance of the Holy Spirit, shedding abroad the love of God in the heart, and gathering the rays of that love into a burning focus, so that you may love God back with love which has come from his heart into yours. And, very specially, accustom yourself to do, for the sake of his dear love, many things which cost you self-sacrifice and effort. As we show love to others we understand his love to ourselves. ‘’Every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love” (i John iv. 7, 8).
The key to the knowledge of the love of Jesus is not in singing rapturous hymns, nor in seeking to arouse intense emotion; but in quietly doing daily deeds of self-denial for His sake. And surely this is the way to sow ourselves as corns of wheat in the ground (John xii. 24); whilst He measures the least act of love, not by the magnitude of the deed itself, but by the strength of the love which prompts it. It is astonishing how quickly we graduate in the school of love, when we begin to put in practice all we know.
(2) As TO Faith. — Who is there of us that does not often cry with the disciples: “Lord, increase our faith!” t Certain it is that increased faith would mean increased joy. But are we all prepared to use the means within our reach for obtaining this increased faith? The germ of faith is the creative gift of God; but its nurture and culture lie with us, by the grace of the Holy Spirit.
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The conditions of its growth are these: — There must h&, first y the putting away from the heart and life of all known evil and inconsistency. The reason for much of the weak faith around is to be found in the permission of forbidden and questionable things, which clog and oppress the soul. These are the birdlime on the soul’s wings — the hood on the inner vision. Next, there must be time given for cjuiet musing over the statements and promises of the Word of God, till they assume a definite shape as eternal facts. Lastly, there must be habitual obedience to every known duty; so that, as the will of God is revealed, it shall be instantly embodied in action; and this, notwithstanding any difficulty that may line the path. Where these rules are observed, faith will grow exceedingly, and will make the unseen Savi ur “a living bright reality” to the soul which yearns for a hand that can never fail, a heart that can never cease to throb.
III. The Resulting Joy. — /r there jiot joy in love when a barrier is broken down which had estranged for years; when confession is made and forgiveness is granted; when heart flows to heart; when the golden key of love unlocks the choicest and most sacred treasures? To know that since we love Christ, we must have been loved; that we are loved with a love which will never let us go, but which will cling to us through life and death and eternal ages, not for anything good or worthy in us, but because of its own sweet will and choice; to be persuaded that nothing, not even our failures and inconsistencies, can separate us from the love of Christ — this, surely, must thrill us with joy, however great and manifold may be the trials through which we are called to pass.
Is tJiere not joy in faith? — “Think with what joy the longimprisoned debtor, drowned in debt, receives a full discharge and his liberty; or a condemned malefactor the news of his pardon — and this will somewhat resemble it, and yet fall far short of the joy which faith imparts, by bringing Christ into the soul and forgiveness of sins in Him. Nor is this all, for the believing soul is not only a debtor acquitted, but enriched besides with a new and great estate, having a right to the unsearchable riches of Christ, to the favour of God, and to the dignity of his child.”
Such joy is unspeakable. — There are times of high tide in the believer’s soul, when he dare not speak. Words seem superfluous and empty. The tides overflow their banks, and pour their volume in unspoken admiration into the heart of God.
And full of glory. — It is of the same substance, if not of the same bulk and weight, as the glory which awaits us on the other side. There are moments of heaven upon earth; prelibations of the river of life; stray notes of the angel choruses; Eshcol grapes from the vineyards of the land of promise; flowers from the parterres of Paradise. Oh for more of heaven on the way to heaven! A prayer which we may almost answer for ourselves by seeking more of Him who is Himself the heaven of heaven; and so adopting Bengel’s motto:” Christ in the heart; heaven in the heart; the heart in heaven.’