Lofty thoughts and great deeds are invariably the outcome of meditative silence. Look at Christ Himself, He did not begin His public ministry until thirty years of age, and it lasted only three and a half years. Yet during that brief period, He often left behind Him the busy haunts of men and even the companionship of His disciples, going into the lonely places of the land to commune with His own heart and enjoy fellowship with His Father. He returned refreshed and invigorated to teach and heal the people, and carry forward to its sublime fulfillment the divine mission of His earthly life. He has in this, as in other things, left us an example to be followed. If Christians really desire to be Christ-like in character and conduct, and useful to others, let them frequently retire into solitude and silence, to ponder the Word of God, contemplate the divine character, imbibe the divine spirit, and be built up in Christ. It is not more meetings they need with more talk and excitement, but more of quiet meditation and secret prayer. Jesus encouraged His followers to, “Enter into your closet, and when you have shut the door, pray to your Father who sees in secret, and your Father who sees in secret, shall reward you openly.” You shall come forth into the social life of men with clearness of vision, warmth of heart, and inspired by noble purposes, to live for Christ, speak for Christ, labor for Christ, and do good unto all men as opportunity offers. Jesus also said unto His disciples, “Come away into a desert place, and rest awhile.” Today, even as then, He would have it understood that such quiet pauses, even amid whitened fields, may not be neglected without depleting our spiritual strength, and diminishing our power for effective service.
As the
Vine, our Lord Jesus partook so continuously of the power and life of God, that
His life fulfilled the inspired statement of the Psalmist: "He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers, of water, that
brings forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither, and
whatsoever he does shall prosper" (Psalm 1:3). How beautifully we find
Jesus acknowledged His dependence upon God:
"The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he sees the Father do”
(John 5:19). It is no marvel then, that we find abundant evidence being constantly
given Him, that His life and work had the Father's approval. Understanding His own
need and being wholly concerned about doing God's will in God's time and way, Jesus
could not but seek the place where God's voice was heard most distinctly, the place apart, where
the humble, teachable heart loves to pause and
inquire afresh, "Lord, what will you
have me to do?"
It will be profitable to review here a few of the incidents in our dear Lord's life wherein we are shown how He connected prayer with the great crisis periods of his life and the results secured thereby. Luke informs us (Luke 6:12) that before selecting the twelve who would constitute the complete apostolic order, He spent a night alone in prayer. In after days, what consolation must have been His in remembering that He had not chosen His own twelve disciples. The guidance sought in the night watches alone in prayer had resulted in so complete an accord with the Father's providences that He could say without qualification, "Those whom you have given me." This same faithful guidance He promises those who in all their ways put God first, and have learned their real need of wisdom from above.
At another time, we find Him in the midst of a multitude toward whom He "was moved with compassion," and to whom He had given freely. On this occasion it is the people who are in "a desert place," and His disciples are urgent that they be sent away to secure for themselves whatever they may need of food. But, Jesus says, "They need not depart; you give them to eat" (Matt. 14:16). Then, followed the miraculous "feeding of" five thousand men, beside women and children." To those who are disposed to give close attention to the details of our Lord's habits of life, there is a depth of significance in the record immediately following: "And straightway Jesus constrained His disciples to get into a ship, and when He had sent the multitudes away, He went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, He was there alone." In John's record (6:15) we have what may be considered another account, of this same miracle, and John adds the information that at this time there was a decided disposition to take Jesus by force and proclaim Him king. What would Jesus do? Ah, yes, well might it have been if throughout the Gospel Age His professing followers had pondered more faithfully such lessons as these, and been more alert to the danger lurking in what seems like the sure evidence of success and triumph.
Jesus was living too close to the Father to be deceived by any spurious fruitage. He knew too well the genuine from the false, and therefore, recognized the need of adhering faithfully to the principles and standards fixed in His Father's Plan. Satan had tempted Him at the out-start of His ministry by suggesting a more speedy way to
world rulership than by way of obedience to God, but that, and all subsequent temptations to adopt quicker methods, was promptly rejected. Let it not be overlooked that almost invariably Jesus is found resorting to prayer when these crisis periods appeared in His life. In connection with the incident we are now considering, we feel constrained to quote a few interesting observations from Farrar's "Life of Christ":
"The miracle produced a profound impression. It was exactly in accordance with the current expectation. The multitude began to whisper to each other that this must undoubtedly be that Prophet which should come into the world; the Shiloh of Jacob's blessing; the Star and the Scepter of Balaam's vision; the Prophet like unto Moses to whom they were to hearken, or perhaps the Elijah promised by the dying breath of ancient prophecy; perhaps the Jeremiah of their tradition come back to reveal the hiding-place of the Ark, the Urim and the sacred fire. Jesus marked their undisguised admiration, and the danger that their enthusiasm might break out by force, and precipitate His death by open rebellion against the Roman government in the attempt to make Him king. He saw too that His disciples seemed to share this worldly and perilous excitement. The time was come, therefore, for instant action.
By the exercise of direct authority, He compelled His disciples, to embark in their boat, and cross the lake before Him. So in the gathering dusk He gradually and gently succeeded in persuading the multitude to leave Him, and when all but the most enthusiastic had streamed away to their homes or caravans, He suddenly left the rest, and fled from them to the hilltop alone to pray. He was conscious that a solemn and awful crisis of His day on earth was come, and by communing with His Heavenly Father He would nerve His soul for the stern work of the morrow, and the bitter conflict of many coming weeks. The storm which now began to sweep over the barren hills; the winds that rushed howling down the ravines; the lake before Him buffeted into tempestuous foam; the little boat which, as the moonlight struggled through the rifted clouds, He saw tossing beneath Him on the laboring waves, were all too sure an emblem of the altered aspects of His earthly life. But there on the desolate hilltop, in that night of storm, He could gain strength, peace, and joy unspeakable; for there He was alone with God. And so over that figure, bowed in lonely prayer upon the hills, and over those toilers upon the troubled lake, the darkness fell and the great winds blew." (End of quote)
By a
careful study of the
harmony of the Gospel records,
the same writer concludes that the next
day, following this wave of enthusiasm and haste to make Jesus king, was to
witness "one of the saddest episodes of our Savior's life. It was the day
in the synagogue at Capernaum on which He deliberately scattered the mists and
exhalations of such spurious popularity as the miracle of the loaves had gathered about His
person and His work, and put not only His idle followers, but some even of His
nearest disciples to a test under which their love for Him entirely
failed." What was that test? Ah, it
is the test of all who profess relationship to Him! It is the test by which the
secrets of the heart are laid bare, and the real objectives made manifest: "I am the living Bread which came down
from heaven; if any man eat of this Bread, he shall live forever,"
and, therefore, "Except you eat the
flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you have no life in you."
This, as the record shows, was "a hard saying" to many, and a most effective means of thinning the ranks of our Lord's followers. And is it not "a hard saying" still and one calculated to serve the same ends today as then? Surely so! Who can doubt that the recording of such things as this, have been a part of God's method of warning us of the certainty of repetition in the history of His professed people. By such sad failures on the part of other favored ones, He would put us on guard, lest we too fall after the same example of unbelief. Thus, as many then seemed "not far from the Kingdom" before the test, because of their enthusiastic zeal to make Jesus king before the time, so it must inevitably be again. Moreover, just as the utterance of the great truth underlying complete union with Jesus and appropriation of all that such union involves, was distasteful to the many then, so it will most assuredly be again and again.
J.J. Blackburn
O Master, Let me Walk with Thee
O Master, let me walk with Thee
In lowly paths of service free;
Tell me Thy secret; help me bear
The strain of toil, the fret of care.
Teach me Thy patience; still with Thee
In closer, dearer company,
In work, that keeps faith sweet and strong,
In trust that triumphs over wrong.
In hope, that sends a shining ray
Far down the future’s broadening way,
In peace that only Thou can’st give,
With Thee, O Master, let me live.