Personal Friendships

of Jesus

BY

J. R. MILLER, D. D. 

 AUTHOR OF "SILENT TIMES, " "MAKING THE MOST OF LIFE, " "THINGS TO LIVE FOR, " "BLESSING OF CHEERFULNESS, " ETC. 

 One friend in that path shall be, To secure my steps from wrong; One to count night day for me, Patient through the watches long, Serving most with none to see. BROWNING. 

New York

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 

PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY. 

EIGHTH THOUSAND

PREFACE. 

George MacDonald said in an address, "The longer I live, the more I amassured that the business of life is to understand the Lord Christ. "If this be true, whatever sheds even a little light on the character orlife of Christ is worth while. 

Nothing reveals a man's heart better than his friendships. The kind offriend he is, tells the kind of man he is. The personal friendships ofJesus reveal many tender and beautiful things in his character. Theyshow us also what is possible for us in divine friendship; for theheart of Jesus is the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever. 

These chapters are only suggestive, not exhaustive. If they make theway into close personal friendship with Jesus any plainer for those whohunger for such blessed intimacy, that will be reward enough. 

J. R. M. 

PHILADELPHIA. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER

 I. THE HUMANHEARTEDNESS OF JESUS II. JESUS AND HIS MOTHER III. JESUS AND HIS FORERUNNER IV. JESUS' CONDITIONS OF FRIENDSHIP V. JESUS CHOOSING HIS FRIENDS VI. JESUS AND THE BELOVED DISCIPLE VII. JESUS AND PETER VIII. JESUS AND THOMAS IX. JESUS' UNREQUITED FRIENDSHIPS X. JESUS AND THE BETHANY SISTERS XI. JESUS COMFORTING HIS FRIENDS XII. JESUS AND HIS SECRET FRIENDS XIII. JESUS' FAREWELL TO HIS FRIENDS XIV. JESUS' FRIENDSHIPS AFTER HE AROSE XV. JESUS AS A FRIEND

 All I could never be, All men ignored in me, This I was worth to God. BROWNING. 

 But lead me, Man divine, Where'er Thou will'st, only that I may find At the long journey's end Thy image there, And grow more like to it. For art not Thou The human shadow of the infinite Love That made and fills the endless universe? The very Word of Him, the unseen, unknown, Eternal Good that rules the summer flower And all the worlds that people starry space. RICHARD WATSON GILDER. 

THE FRIENDSHIPS OF JESUS. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE HUMANHEARTEDNESS OF JESUS. 

 O God, O kinsman loved, but not enough, O man with eyes majestic after death, Whose feet have toiled along our pathways rough, Whose lips drawn human breath;

 By that one likeness which is ours and thine, By that one nature which doth hold us kin, By that high heaven where sinless thou dost shine, To draw us sinners in;

 By thy last silence in the judgment hall, By long foreknowledge of the deadly tree, By darkness, by the wormwood and the gall, I pray thee visit me. JEAN INGELOW. 

There is a natural tendency to think of Jesus as different from othermen in the human element of his personality. Our adoration of him asour divine Lord makes it seem almost sacrilege to place his humanity inthe ordinary rank with that of other men. It seems to us that lifecould not have meant the same to him that it means to us. It isdifficult for us to conceive of him as learning in childhood as otherchildren have to learn. We find ourselves fancying that he must alwayshave known how to read and write and speak. We think of theexperiences of his youth and young manhood as altogether unlike thoseof any other boy or young man in the village where he grew up. Thissame feeling leads us to think of his temptation as so different fromwhat temptation is to other men as to be really no temptation at all. 

So we are apt to think of all the human life of Jesus as being in someway lifted up out of the rank of ordinary experiences. We do notconceive of him as having the same struggles that we have in meetingtrial, in enduring injury and wrong, in learning obedience, patience, meekness, submission, trust, and cheerfulness. We conceive of hisfriendships as somehow different from other men's. We feel that insome mysterious way his human life was supported and sustained by thedeity that dwelt in him, and that he was exempt from all ordinarylimiting conditions of humanity. 

There is no doubt that with many people this feeling of reverence hasbeen in the way of the truest understanding of Jesus, and ofttimesthose who have clung most devoutly to a belief in his deity have missedmuch of the comfort which comes from a proper comprehension of hishumanity. 

Yet the story of Jesus as told in the Gospels furnishes no ground forany confusion on the subject of his human life. It represents him assubject to all ordinary human conditions excepting sin. He began lifeas every infant begins, in feebleness and ignorance; and there is nohint of any precocious development. He learned as every child mustlearn. The lessons were not gotten easily or without diligent study. He played as other boys did, and with them. The more we think of theyouth of Jesus as in no marked way unlike that of those among whom helived, the truer will our thought of him be. 

Millais the great artist, when he was a young man, painted an unusualpicture of Jesus. He represented him as a little boy in the home atNazareth. He has cut his finger on some carpenter's tool, and comes tohis mother to have it bound up. The picture is really one of thetruest of all the many pictures of Jesus, because it depicts just sucha scene as ofttimes may have been witnessed in his youth. Evidentlythere was nothing in his life in Nazareth that drew the attention ofhis companions and neighbors to him in any striking way. We know thathe wrought no miracles until after he had entered upon his publicministry. We can think of him as living a life of unselfishness andkindness. There was never any sin or fault in him; he always kept thelaw of God perfectly. But his perfection was not something startling. There was no halo about his head, no transfiguration, that awed men. We are told that he grew in favor with men as well as with God. Hisreligion made his life beautiful and winning, but always so simple andnatural that it drew no unusual attention to itself. It was richly andideally human. 

So it was unto the end. Through the years of his public ministry, whenhis words and works burned with divine revealing, he continued to livean altogether natural human life. He ate and drank; he grew weary andfaint; he was tempted in all points like as we are, and suffered, beingtempted. He learned obedience by the things that he endured. Hehungered and thirsted, never ministering with his divine power to anyof his own needs. "In all things it behooved him to be made like untohis brethren. "

In nothing else is this truth more clearly shown than in thehumanheartedness which was so striking a feature of the life of Jesusamong men. When we think of him as the Son of God, the questionarises, Did he really care for personal friendships with men and womenof the human family? In the home from which he came he had dwelt fromall eternity in the bosom of the Father, and had enjoyed thecompanionship of the highest angels. What could he find in this worldof imperfect, sinful beings to meet the cravings of his heart forfellowship? Whom could he find among earth's sinful creatures worthyof his friendship, or capable of being in any real sense his personalfriend? What satisfaction could his heart find in this world's deepestand holiest love? What light can a dim candle give to the sun? Doesthe great ocean need the little dewdrop that hides in the bosom of therose? What blessing or inspiration of love can any poor, marred, stained life give to the soul of the Christ?

Yet the Gospels abound with evidences that Jesus did crave human love, that he found sweet comfort in the friendships which he made, and thatmuch of his keenest suffering was caused by failures in the love ofthose who ought to have been true to him as his friends. He cravedaffection, and even among the weak and faulty men and women about himmade many very sacred attachments from which he drew strength andcomfort. 

We must distinguish between Christ's love for all men and hisfriendship for particular individuals. He was in the world to revealthe Father, and all the divine compassion for sinners was in his heart. It was this mighty love that brought him to earth on the mission ofredemption. It was this that impelled and constrained him in all hisseeking of the lost. He had come to be the Saviour of all who wouldbelieve and follow him. Therefore he was interested in every merestfragment or shred of life. No human soul was so debased that he didnot love it. 

But besides this universal divine love revealed in the heart of Jesus, he had his personal human friendships. A philanthropist may give hiswhole life to the good of his fellow-men, to their uplifting, theiradvancement, their education; to the liberation of the enslaved; towork among and in behalf of the poor, the sick, or the fallen. Allsuffering humanity has its interest for him, and makes appeal to hiscompassion. Yet amid the world of those whom he thus loves and wishesto help, this man will have his personal friends; and through the storyof his life will run the golden threads of sweet companionships andfriendships whose benedictions and inspirations will be secrets ofstrength, cheer, and help to him in all his toil in behalf of others. 

Jesus gave all his rich and blessed life to the service of love. Powerwas ever going out from him to heal, to comfort, to cheer, to save. Hewas continually emptying out from the full fountain of his own heartcupfuls of rich life to reinvigorate other lives in their faintness andexhaustion. One of the sources of his own renewing and replenishingwas in the friendships he had among men and women. What friends are tous in our human hunger and need, the friends of Jesus were to him. Hecraved companionship, and was sorely hurt when men shut their doors inhis face. 

There are few more pathetic words in the New Testament than that shortsentence which tells of his rejection, "He came unto his own, and hisown received him not. " Another pathetic word is that which describesthe neglect of those who ought to have been ever eager to show himhospitality: "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air havenests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head. " Even thebeasts of the field and the birds of the heaven had warmer welcome inthis world than he in whose heart was the most gentle love that earthever knew. 

Another word which reveals the deep hunger of the heart of Jesus forfriendship and companionship was spoken in view of the hour when evenhis own apostles would leave him: "Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is nowcome, that ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leaveme alone. " The experience of the garden of Gethsemane also shows in awonderful way the Lord's craving for sympathy. In his great sorrow hewished to have his best friends near him, that he might lean on them, and draw from their love a little strength for his hour of bitter need. It was an added element in the sorrow of that night that he failed toget the help from human sympathy which he yearned for and expected. When he came back each time after his supplication, he found hisapostles sleeping. 

These are some of the glimpses which we get in the Gospel story of thelonging heart of Jesus. He loved deeply, and sought to be loved. Hewas disappointed when he failed to find affection. He welcomed lovewherever it came to him, --the love of the poor, the gratitude of thosewhom he had helped, the trusting affection of little children. We cannever know how much the friendship of the beloved disciple was toJesus. What a shelter and comfort the Bethany home was to him, and howhis strength was renewed by its sweet fellowship! How even thesmallest kindnesses were a solace to his heart! How he was comfortedby the affection and the ministries of the women-friends who followedhim!

In the chapters of this book which follow, the attempt is made to tellthe story of some of the friendships of Jesus, gathering up the threadsfrom the Gospel pages. Sometimes the material is abundant, as in thecase of Peter and John; sometimes we have only a glimpse or two in therecord, albeit enough to reveal a warm and tender friendship, as in thecase of the Bethany sisters, and of Andrew, and of Joseph. It may dous good to study these friendship stories. It will at least show usthe humanheartedness of Jesus, and his method in blessing and savingthe world. The central fact in every true Christian life is a personalfriendship with Jesus. Men were called to follow him, to leave all andcleave to him, to believe on him, to trust him, to love him, to obeyhim; and the result was the transformation of their lives into his ownbeauty. That which alone makes one a Christian is being a friend ofJesus. Friendship transforms--all human friendship transforms. Webecome like those with whom we live in close, intimate relations. Lifeflows into life, heart and heart are knit together, spirits blend, andthe two friends become one. 

We have but little to give to Christ; yet it is a comfort to know thatour friendship really is precious to him, and adds to his joy, poor andmeagre though its best may be--but he has infinite blessings to give tous. "I call you friends. " No other gift he gives to us can equal invalue the love and friendship of his heart. When Cyrus gave Artabazus, one of his courtiers, a gold cup, he gave Chrysanthus, his favorite, only a kiss. And Artabazus said to Cyrus, "The cup you gave me was notso good gold as the kiss you gave Chrysanthus. " No good man's money isever worth so much as his love. Certainly the greatest honor of thisearth, greater than rank or station or wealth, is the friendship ofJesus Christ. And this honor is within the reach of every one. "Henceforth I call you not servants ... I have called you friends. ""Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you. "

The stories of the friendships of Jesus when he was on the earth needcause no one to sigh, "I wish that I had lived in those days, whenJesus lived among men, that I might have been his friend too, feelingthe warmth of his love, my life enriched by contact with his, and myspirit quickened by his love and grace!" The friendships of Jesus, whose stories we read in the New Testament, are only patterns offriendships into which we may enter, if we are ready to accept what heoffers, and to consecrate our life to faithfulness and love. 

The friendship of Jesus includes all other blessings for time and foreternity. "All things are yours, and ye are Christ's. " His friendshipsanctifies all pure human bonds--no friendship is complete which is notwoven of a threefold cord. If Christ is our friend, all life is maderich and beautiful to us. The past, with all of sacred loss it holds, lives before us in him. The future is a garden-spot in which alllife's sweet hopes, that seem to have perished on the earth, will befound growing for us. 

 "Fields of the past to thee shall be no more The burialground of friendships once in bloom, But the seed-plots of a harvest on before, And prophecies of life with larger room For things that are behind. 

 Live thou in Christ, and thy dead past shall be Alive forever with eternal day; And planted on his bosom thou shall see The flowers revived that withered on the way Amid the things behind. "

CHAPTER II. 

JESUS AND HIS MOTHER. 

 Sleep, sleep, mine Holy One! My flesh, my Lord!--what name? I do not know A name that seemeth not too high or low, Too far from me or heaven. My Jesus, _that_ is best! * * * Sleep, sleep, my saving One. MRS. BROWNING. 

The first friend a child has in this world is its mother. It comeshere an utter stranger, knowing no one; but it finds love waiting forit. Instantly the little stranger has a friend, a bosom to nestle in, an arm to encircle it, a hand to minister to its helplessness. Love isborn with the child. The mother presses it to her breast, and at onceher heart's tendrils twine about it. 

It is a good while before the child becomes conscious of the wondrouslove that is bending over it, yet all the time the love is growing indepth and tenderness. In a thousand ways, by a thousand delicate arts, the mother seeks to waken in her child a response to her own yearninglove. At length the first gleams of answering affection appear--thechild has begun to love. From that hour the holy friendship grows. The two lives become knit in one. 

When God would give the world a great man, a man of rare spirit andtranscendent power, a man with a lofty mission, he first prepares awoman to be his mother. Whenever in history we come upon such a man, we instinctively begin to ask about the character of her on whose bosomhe nestled in infancy, and at whose knee he learned his life's firstlessons. We are sure of finding here the secret of the man'sgreatness. When the time drew nigh for the incarnation of the Son ofGod, we may be sure that into the soul of the woman who should be hismother, who should impart her own life to him, who should teach him hisfirst lessons, and prepare him for his holy mission, God put theloveliest and the best qualities that ever were lodged in any woman'slife. We need not accept the teaching that exalts the mother of Jesusto a place beside or above her divine Son. We need have no sympathywhatever with the dogma that ascribes worship to the Virgin Mary, andteaches that the Son on his throne must be approached by mortalsthrough his more merciful, more gentle-hearted mother. But we need notlet these errors concerning Mary obscure the real blessedness of hercharacter. We remember the angel's greeting, "Blessed art thou amongwomen. " Hers surely was the highest honor ever conferred upon anywoman. 

 "Say of me as the Heavenly said, 'Thou art The blessedest of women!'--blessedest, Not holiest, not noblest, --no high name, Whose height misplaced may pierce me like a shame, When I sit meek in heaven!"

We know how other men, men of genius, rarely ever have failed to giveto their mothers the honor of whatever of greatness or worth they hadattained. But somehow we shrink from saying that Jesus was influencedby his mother as other good men have been; that he got from her much ofthe beauty and the power of his life. We are apt to fancy that hismother was not to him what mothers ordinarily are to their children;that he did not need mothering as other children do; that by reason ofthe Deity indwelling, his character unfolded from within, without theaid of home teaching and training, and the other educational influenceswhich do so much in shaping the character of children in common homes. 

But there is no Scriptural ground for this feeling. The humanity ofJesus was just like our humanity. He came into the world just asfeeble and as untaught as any other child that ever was born. Nomother was ever more to her infant than Mary was to Jesus. She taughthim all his first lessons. She gave him his first thoughts about God, and from her lips he learned the first lispings of prayer. Jewishmothers cared very tenderly for their children. They taught them withunwearying patience the words of God. One of the rabbis said, "Godcould not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers. " This sayingshows how sacred was the Jewish thought of the mother's work for herchild. 

Every true mother feels a sense of awe in her soul when she bends overher own infant child; but in the case of Mary we may be sure that theawe was unusual, because of the mystery of the child's birth. In theannunciation the angel had said to her, "That which is to be born shallbe called holy, the Son of God. " Then the night of her child's birththere was a wondrous vision of angels, and the shepherds who beheld ithastened into the town; and as they looked upon the baby in the manger, they told the wondering mother what they had seen and heard. We aretold that Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart. While she could not understand what all this meant, she knew at leastthat hers was no common child; that in some wonderful sense he was theSon of God. 

This consciousness must have given to her motherhood an unusualthoughtfulness and seriousness. How close to God she must have lived!How deep and tender her love must have been! How pure and clean herheart must have been kept! How sweet and patient she must have been asshe moved about at her tasks, in order that no harsh or bitter thoughtor feeling might ever cast a shadow upon the holy life which had beenintrusted to her for training and moulding. 

Only a few times is the veil lifted to give us a glimpse of mother andchild. On the fortieth day he was taken to the temple, and given toGod. Then it was that another reminder of the glory of this child wasgiven to the mother. An old man, Simeon, took the infant in his arms, and spoke of him as God's salvation. As he gave the parents hisparting blessing he lifted the veil, and showed them a glimmering ofthe future. "This child is set for the fall and rising again of manyin Israel; and for a sign which shall be spoken against. " Then to themother he said solemnly, "Yea, a sword shall pierce through thine ownsoul also. " This was a foretelling of the sorrow which should come tothe heart of Mary, and which came again and again, until at last shesaw her son on a cross. The shadow of the cross rested on Mary's soulall the years. Every time she rocked her baby to sleep, and laid himdown softly, covering his face with kisses, there would come into herheart a pang as she remembered Simeon's words. Perhaps, too, wordsfrom the old prophets would come into her mind, --"He is despised andrejected of men; a man of sorrows;" "He was bruised for ouriniquities, "--and the tears would come welling into her eyes. Everytime she saw her child at play, full of gladness, all unconscious ofany sorrow awaiting him, a nameless fear would steal over her as sheremembered the ominous words which had fallen upon her ear, and whichshe could not forget. 

Soon after the presentation in the temple came the visit of the magi. Again the mother must have wondered as she heard these strangers fromthe East speak of her infant boy as the "King of the Jews, " and sawthem falling down before him in reverent worship, and then laying theirofferings at his feet. Immediately following this came the flight intoEgypt. How the mother must have pressed her child to her bosom as shefled with him to escape the cruel danger! By and by they returned, andfrom that time Nazareth was their home. 

Only once in the thirty years do we have a glimpse of mother and child. It was when Jesus went to his first Passover. When the time came forreturning home the child tarried behind. After a painful search themother found him in one of the porches of the temple, sitting with therabbis, an eager learner. There is a tone of reproach in her words, "Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and I havesought thee sorrowing. " She was sorely perplexed. All the yearsbefore this her son had implicitly obeyed her. He had never resistedher will, never withdrawn from her guidance. Now he had done somethingwithout asking her about it--as it were, had taken his life into hisown hand. It was a critical point in the friendship of this mother andher child. It is a critical moment in the friendship of any mother andher child when the child begins to think and act for himself, to dothings without the mother's guidance. 

The answer of Jesus is instructive: "I must be about my Father'sbusiness. " There was another besides his mother to whom he owedallegiance. He was the Son of God as well as the son of Mary. Parentsshould remember this always in dealing with their children, --theirchildren are more God's than theirs. 

It is interesting to notice what follows that remarkable experience ofmother and child in the temple. Jesus returned with his mother to thelowly Nazareth home, and was subject to her. In recognizing hisrelation to God as his heavenly Father, he did not become any less thechild of his earthly mother. He loved his mother no less because heloved God more. Obedience to the Father in heaven did not lead him toreject the rule of earthly parenthood. He went back to the quiet home, and for eighteen years longer found his Father's business in the commonround of lowly tasks which made up the daily life of such a home. 

It would be intensely interesting to read the story of mother and sonduring those years, but it has not been written for us. They must havebeen years of wondrous beauty. Few things in this world are morebeautiful than such friendships as one sometimes sees between motherand son. The boy is more the lover than the child. The two enter intothe closest companionship. A sacred and inviolable intimacy is formedbetween them. The boy opens all his heart to his mother, telling hereverything; and she, happy woman, knows how to be a boy's mother and tokeep a mother's place without ever startling or checking the shyconfidences, or causing him to desire to hide anything from her. Theboy whispers his inmost thoughts to his mother, and listens to her wiseand gentle counsels with loving eagerness and childish faith--

 "Her face his holy skies; The air he breathes his mother's breath, His stars his mother's eyes. "

Not always are mother and boy such friends. Some mothers do not thinkit worth while to give the time and thought necessary to enter into aboy's life in such confidential way. But we may be sure that betweenthe mother of Jesus and her son the most tender and intimate friendshipexisted. He opened his soul to her; and she gave him not a mother'slove only, but also a mother's wise counsel and strong, inspiringsympathy. 

It is almost certain that sorrow entered the Nazareth home soon afterthe visit to Jerusalem. Joseph is not mentioned again; and it issupposed that he died, leaving Mary a widow. On Jesus, as the eldestson, the care of the mother now rested. Knowing the deep love of hisheart and his wondrous gentleness, it is easy for us to understand withwhat unselfish devotion he cared for his mother after she was widowed. He had learned the carpenter's trade; and day after day, early andlate, he wrought with his hands to provide for her wants. Very sacredmust have been the friendship of mother and son in those days. Hergentleness, quietness, hopefulness, humility, and prayerfulness, musthave wrought themselves into the very tissue of his character as hemoved through the days in such closeness. Unto the end he carried inhis soul the benedictions of his mother's life. 

The thirty silent years of preparation closed, and Jesus went out tobegin his public ministry. The first glimpse we have of the mother isat the wedding at Cana. Jesus was there too. The wine failed, andMary went to Jesus about the matter. "They have no wine, " she said. Evidently she was expecting some manifesting of supernatural power. All the years since his birth she had been carrying in her heart agreat wonder of expectation. Now he had been baptized, and had enteredupon his work as the Messiah. Had not the time come formiracle-working?

The answer of Jesus startles us: "Woman, what have I to do with thee?mine hour is not yet come. " The words seem to have in them a tone ofreproof, or of repulse, unlike the words of so gentle and loving a son. But really there is in his reply nothing inconsistent with all that wehave learned to think of the gentleness and lovingness of the heart ofJesus. In substance he said only that he must wait for his Father'sword before doing any miracle, and that the time for this had not yetcome. Evidently his mother understood him. She was not hurt by hiswords, nor did she regard them as a refusal to help in the emergency. Her words to the servants show this: "Whatsoever he saith unto you, doit. " She had learned her lesson of sweet humility. She knew now thatGod had the highest claim on her son's obedience, and she quietlywaited for the divine voice. The holy friendship was not marred. 

There is another long period in which no mention is made of Mary. Probably she lived a secluded life. But one day at Capernaum, in themidst of his popularity, when Jesus was preaching to a great crowd, sheand his brothers appeared on the outside of the throng, and sent arequest that they might speak with him. It seems almost certain thatthe mother's errand was to try to get him away from his exhaustingwork; he was imperilling his health and his safety. Jesus refused tobe interrupted. But it was really only an assertion that nothing mustcome between him and his duty. The Father's business always comesfirst. Human ties are second to the bond which binds us to God. Nodishonor was done by Jesus to his mother in refusing to be drawn awayby her loving interest from his work. The holiest human friendshipmust never keep us from doing the will of God. Other mothers in theirlove for their children have made the same mistake that the mother ofJesus made, --have tried to withhold or withdraw their children fromservice which seemed too hard or too costly. The voice of tenderestlove must be quenched when it would keep us from doing God's will. 

The next mention of the mother of Jesus is in the story of the cross. Ah, holy mother-love, constant and faithful to the end! At lengthSimeon's prophecy is fulfilled, --a sword is piercing the mother's soulalso. "Jesus was crucified on the cross; Mary was crucified at thefoot of the cross. "

Note only one feature of the scene, --the mother-love there is in it. The story of clinging mother-love is a wonderful one. A mother neverforsakes her child. Mary is not the only mother who has followed a sonto a cross. Here we have the culmination of this mother's friendshipfor her son. She is watching beside his cross. O friendship constant, faithful, undying, and true!

But what of the friendship of the dying son for his mother? In his ownanguish does he notice her? Yes; one of the seven words spoken whilehe hung on the cross told of changeless love in his heart for her. Mary was a woman of more than fifty, "with years before her too manyfor remembering, too few for forgetting. " The world would be desolatefor her when her son was gone. So he made provision for her in theshelter of a love in which he knew she would be safe. As he saw herled away by the beloved disciple to his own home, part of the pain ofdying was gone from his own heart. His mother would have tender care. 

The story of this blessed friendship should sweeten forever inChristian homes the relation of mother and child. It should make everymother a better woman and a better mother. It should make every childa truer, holier child. Every home should have its sacred friendshipsbetween parents and children. Thus something of heaven will be broughtdown to our dull earth; for, as Mrs. Browning says, --

 In the pure loves of child and mother Two human loves make one divine. 

CHAPTER III. 

JESUS AND HIS FORERUNNER. 

 Where is the lore the Baptist taught, The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue? The much-enduring wisdom, sought By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among? Who counts it gain His light should wane, So the whole world to Jesus throng? KEBLE. 

The two Johns appear in many devotional pictures, one on each side ofJesus. Yet the two men were vastly unlike. The Baptist was a wild, rugged man of the desert; the apostle was the representative of thehighest type of gentleness and spiritual refinement. The former wasthe consummate flower of Old Testament prophecy; the latter was theripe fruit of New Testament evangelism. They appear in history onereally on each side of Jesus; one going before him to prepare the wayfor him, and the other coming after him to declare the meaning of hismission. They were united in Jesus; both of them were his friends. 

It seems probable that Jesus and the Baptist had never met until theday Jesus came to be baptized. This is not to be wondered at. Theirchildhood homes were not near to each other. Besides, John probablyturned away at an early age from the abodes of men to make his home inthe desert. He may never have visited Jesus, and it is not unlikelythat Jesus had never visited him. 

Yet their mothers are said to have been cousins. The stories of theirbirths are woven together in an exquisite way, in the opening chaptersof the Gospels. To the same high angel fell the privilege ofannouncing to the two women, in turn, the tidings which in each casemeant so much of honor and blessedness. It would have seemed naturalfor the boys to grow up together, their lives blending in childhoodassociation and affection. It is interesting to think what the effectwould have been upon the characters of both if they had been reared inclose companionship. How would John's stern, rugged, unsocial naturehave affected the gentle spirit of Jesus? What impression would thebrightness, sweetness, and affectionateness of Jesus have made on thetemper and disposition of John?

When at last the two men met, it is evident that a remarkable effectwas produced on John. There was something in the face of Jesus thatalmost overpowered the fearless preacher of the desert. John had beenwaiting and watching for the Coming One, whose herald and harbinger hewas. One day he came and asked to be baptized. John had never beforehesitated to administer the rite to any one who stood before him; forin every one he saw a sinner needing repentance and remission of sins. But he who now stood before him waiting to be baptized bore upon hisface the light of an inner holiness which awed the rugged preacher. "Ihave need to be baptized of thee, " said John; but Jesus insisted, andthe rite was administered. John's awe must have been deepened by whatnow took place. Jesus looked up in earnest prayer, and then from theopen heaven a white dove descended, resting on the head of the HolyOne. An ancient legend tells that from the shining light the wholevalley of the Jordan was illuminated. A divine voice was heard also, declaring that this Jesus was the Son of God. 

Thus it was that the friendship between Jesus and the Baptist began. It was a wonderful moment. For centuries prophets had been pointingforward to the Messiah who was to come; now John saw him. He hadbaptized him, thus introducing him to his great mission. This madeJohn the greatest of the prophets; he saw the Messiah whom hispredecessors had only foretold. John's rugged nature must have beenwondrously softened by this meeting with Jesus. 

Brief was the duration of the friendship of the forerunner and theMessiah; but there are evidences that it was strong, deep, and true. There were several occasions on which this friendship proved itssincerity and its loyalty. 

Reports of the preaching of John, and of the throngs who were flockingto him, reached Jerusalem; and a deputation was sent by the Sanhedrinto the desert to ask him who he was. They had begun to think that thisman who was attracting such attention might be the Messiah for whomthey were looking. But John was careful to say that he was not theChrist. "Art thou Elias? ... Art thou that prophet?" He answered"No. "--"Who art thou, then?" they asked, "that we may give an answer tothem that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself?"

This gave John an opportunity to claim the highest honor for himself ifhe had been disposed to do so. He might have admitted that he was theMessiah, or quietly permitted the impression to be cherished; and inthe state of feeling and expectation then prevailing among the people, there would have been a great uprising to carry him to a throne. Buthis loyalty to truth and to the Messiah whose forerunner he was, was sostrong that he firmly resisted the opportunity, with whatever oftemptation it may have had for him. "I am a voice, " heanswered--nothing but a voice. Thus he showed an element of greatnessin his lowly estimate of himself. 

True, a voice may do great things. It may speak words which shall ringthrough the world with a blessing in every reverberation. It mayarouse men to action, may comfort sorrow, cheer discouragement, starthope in despairing hearts. If one is only a voice, and if there betruth and love and life in the voice, its ministry may be rich in itsinfluence. 

Much of the Bible is but a voice coming out of the depths of the past. No one knows the names of all the holy men who, moved by the Spirit, wrote the wonderful words. Many of the sweetest of the Psalms areanonymous. Yet no one prizes the words less, nor is their power tocomfort, cheer, inspire, or quicken any less, because they are onlyvoices. After all, it is a great thing to be a voice to which men andwomen will listen, and whose words do good wherever they go. 

Yet John's speaking thus of himself shows his humility. He sought noearthly praise or recognition. He was not eager to have his namesounding on people's lips. He knew well how empty such honor was. Hewished only that he might be a voice, speaking out the word he had beensent into the world to speak. He knew that he had a message todeliver, and he was intent on delivering it. It mattered not who orwhat he was, but it did matter whether his "word or two" were spokenfaithfully or not. 

Every one of us has a message from God to men. We are in this worldfor a purpose, with a mission, with something definite to do for Godand man. It makes very little difference whether people hear about usor not, whether we are praised, loved, and honored, or despised, hated, and rejected, so that we get our word spoken into the air, and setgoing in men's hearts and lives. John was a worthy voice, and histones rang out with clarion clearness for truth and for God's kingdom. It was his mission to go in advance of the King, and tell men that hewas coming, calling them to prepare the way before him. This he did;and when the King came, John's work was done. 

The deputation asked him also why he was baptizing if he was neitherthe Christ nor Elijah. Again John honored his friend by saying, "Ibaptize with water: but there standeth one among you, whom ye know not;he it is, who coming after me is preferred be fore me, whose shoe'slatchet I am not worthy to unloose. " John set the pattern forfriendship for Christ for all time. It is, --

 "None of self, and all of thee. "

It is pitiable to see how some among the Master's followers fail tolearn this lesson. They contend for high places, where they may haveprominence among men, where their names shall have honor. The onlytruly great in Christ's sight are those who forget self that they mayhonor their Lord. John said he was not worthy to unloose theshoe-latchet of his friend, so great, so kingly, so worthy was thatfriend. He said his own work was only external, while the One standingunrecognized among the people had power to reach their hearts. It werewell if every follower of Christ understood so perfectly the place ofhis own work with relation to Christ's. 

Another of John's testimonies to Jesus was made a little later, perhapsas Jesus returned after his temptation. Pointing to a young man whowas approaching, he said, "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh awaythe sin of the world. " It was a high honor which in these words Johngave to his friend. That friend was the bearer of the world's sin andof its sorrow. It is not likely that at this early stage John knew ofthe cross on which Jesus should die for the world. In some way, however, he saw a vision of Jesus saving his people from their sin, andso proclaimed him to the circle that stood round him. He proclaimedhim also as the Son of God, thus adding yet another honor to his friend. 

A day or two later John again pointed Jesus out to two of his owndisciples as the Lamb of God, and then bade them leave him and go afterthe Messiah. This is another mark of John's noble friendship forJesus, --he gave up his own disciples that they might go after the newMaster. It is not easy to do this. It takes a brave man to send hisfriends away, that they may give their love and service to anothermaster. 

There is further illustration of John's loyal friendship for Jesus. Itseems that John's disciples were somewhat jealous of the growing fameand influence of Jesus. The throngs that followed their master werenow turning after the new teacher. In their great love for John, andremembering how he had witnessed for Jesus, and called attention tohim, before he began his ministry and after, they felt that it wasscarcely right that Jesus should rise to prosperity at the expense ofhim who had so helped him rise. If John had been less noble than hewas, and his friendship for Jesus less loyal, such words from hisfollowers would have embittered him. There are people who doirreparable hurt by such flattering sympathy. A spark of envy is oftenfanned into a disastrous flame by friends who come with such appeals tothe evil that is in every man. 

But John's answer shows a soul of wondrous nobleness. He had not beenhurt by popularity, as so many men are. Not all good people passthrough times of great success, with its attendant elation andadulation, and come out simple-hearted and lowly. Then even a severertest of character is the time of waning favor, when the crowds meltaway, and when another is receiving the applause. Many a man, in suchan experience, fails to retain sweetness of spirit, and becomes souredand embittered. 

John stood both tests. Popularity did not make him vain. The losingof his fame did not embitter him. He kept humble and sweet through itall. The secret was his unwavering loyalty to his own mission as theharbinger of the Messiah. "A man can receive nothing, except it begiven him from heaven, " he said. The power over men which he hadwielded for a time had been given to him. Now the power had beenwithdrawn, and given to Jesus. It was all right, and he should notcomplain of what Heaven had done. 

Then John reminded his friends that he had distinctly said that he wasnot the Christ, but was only one sent before him. In a wondrouslyexpressive way he explained his relation to Jesus. Jesus was thebridegroom, and John was only the bridegroom's friend, and he rejoicedin the bridegroom's honor. It was meet that the bridegroom should havethe honor, and that his friend should retire into the background, andthere be forgotten. Thus John showed his loyalty to Jesus by rejoicingin his popular favor, when the effect was to leave John himselfdeserted and alone after a season of great fame. "He must increase, but I must decrease, " said the noble-hearted forerunner. John's workwas done, and the work of Jesus was now beginning. John understoodthis, and with devoted loyalty, unsurpassed in all the bright story offriendship, he rejoiced in the success that Jesus was winning, thoughit was at his own cost. 

This is a model of noble friendship for all time. Envy poisons muchhuman friendship. It is not easy to work loyally for the honor andadvancement of another when he is taking our place, and drawing ourcrowds after him. But in any circumstances envy is despicable and mostundivine. Then even in our friendship for Christ we need to be evermost watchful lest we allow self to creep in. We must learn to careonly for his honor and the advancement of his kingdom, and never tothink of ourselves. 

So much for the friendship of John for Jesus. On several occasions wefind evidences of very warm friendship in Jesus for John. John'simprisonment was a most pathetic episode in his life. It came from hisfidelity as a preacher of righteousness. In view of all thecircumstances, we can scarcely wonder that in his dreary prison hebegan almost to doubt, certainly to question, whether Jesus were indeedthe Messiah. But it must be noted that even in this painful experienceJohn was loyal to Jesus. When the question arose in his mind, he sentdirectly to Jesus to have it answered. If only all in whose mindsspiritual doubts or questions arise would do this, good, and not evil, would result in every case; for Christ always knows how to reassureperplexed faith. 

It was after the visit of the messengers from John that Jesus spoke thestrong words which showed his warm friendship for his forerunner. Johnhad not forfeited his place in the Master's heart by his temporarydoubting. Jesus knew that his disciples might think disparagingly ofJohn because he had sent the messengers with the question; and as soonas they were gone he began to speak about John, and to speak about himin terms of highest praise. It is an evidence of true friendship thatone speaks well of one's friend behind his back. Some professedfriendship will not stand this test. But Jesus spoke not a word ofcensure concerning John after the failure of his faith. On the otherhand, he eulogized him in a most remarkable way. He spoke of hisstability and firmness; John was not a reed shaken with the wind, hewas not a self-indulgent man, courting ease and loving luxury; he was aman ready for any self-denial and hardship. Jesus added to this eulogyof John's qualities as a man, the statement that no greater soul thanhis had ever been born in this world. This was high praise indeed. Itillustrates the loyalty of Jesus to the friend who had so honored himand was suffering now because of faithfulness to truth and duty. 

There is another incident which shows how much Jesus loved John. Itwas after the foul murder of the Baptist. The record is very brief. The friends of the dead prophet gathered in the prison, and, taking upthe headless body of their master, they carried it away to a reverent, tearful burial. Then they went and told Jesus. The narrative says, "When Jesus heard of it, he departed thence by ship into a desert placeapart. " His sorrow at the tragic death of his faithful friend made himwish to be alone. When the Jews saw Jesus weeping beside the grave ofLazarus they said, "Behold how he loved him!" No mention is made oftears when Jesus heard of the death of John; but he immediately soughtto break away from the crowds, to be alone, and there is little doubtthat when he was alone he wept. He loved John, and grieved over hisdeath. 

The story of the friendship of Jesus and John is very beautiful. John's loyalty and faithfulness must have brought real comfort toJesus. Then to John the friendship of Jesus must have been full ofcheer. 

As we read the story of the Baptist's life, with its tragic ending, weare apt to feel that he died too soon. He began his public work withevery promise of success. For a few months he preached with greatpower, and thousands flocked to hear him. Then came the waning of hispopularity, and soon he was shut up in a prison, and in a little whilewas cruelly murdered to humor the whim of a wicked and vengeful woman. 

Was it worth while to be born, and to go through years of severetraining, only for such a fragment of living? To this question we cananswer only that John had finished his work. He came into the world--aman sent from God--to do just one definite thing, --to prepare the wayfor the Messiah. When the Messiah had come, John's work was done. Asthe friend of Christ he went home; and elsewhere now, in other realmsperhaps, he is still serving his Lord. 

CHAPTER IV. 

JESUS' CONDITIONS OF FRIENDSHIP. 

 But if himself he come to thee, and stand * * * And reach to thee himself the Holy Cup, * * * Pallid and royal, saying, "Drink with me, " Wilt thou refuse? Nay, not for paradise! The pale brow will compel thee, the pure hands Will minister unto thee; thou shalt take Of that communion through the solemn depths Of the dark waters of thine agony, With heart that praises him, that yearns to him The closer through that hour. _Ugo Bassi's Sermon. _

Every thoughtful reader of the Gospels notes two seemingly opposingcharacteristics of Christ's invitations, --their wideness and theirnarrowness. They were broad enough to include all men; yet by theirconditions they were so narrowed down that only a few seemed able toaccept them. 

The gospel was for the world. It was as broad as the love of God, andthat is absolutely without limit. God loved the world. When Jesuswent forth among men his heart was open to all. He was the patron ofno particular class. For him there were no outcasts whom he might nottouch, with whom he might not speak in public, or privately, or whowere excluded from the privileges of friendship with him. He spoke ofhimself as the Son of man--not the son of a man, but the Son of man, and therefore the brother of every man. Whoever bore the image ofhumanity had a place in his heart. Wherever he found a human need ithad an instant claim on his sympathy, and he was eager to impart ablessing. No man had fallen so low in sin that Jesus passed him bywithout love and compassion. To be a man was the passport to his heart. 

The invitations which Jesus gave all bear the stamp of this exceedingbroadness. "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and Iwill give you rest. " "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise castout. " "If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. " Suchwords as these were ever falling from his lips. No man or woman, hearing these invitations, could ever say, "There is nothing there forme. " There was no hint of possible exclusion for any one. Not a wordwas ever said about any particular class of persons who mightcome, --the righteous, the respectable, the cultured, the unsoiled, thewell-born, the well-to-do. Jesus had no such words in his vocabulary. Whoever labored and was heavy laden was invited. Whoever would comeshould be received--would not in any wise be cast out. Whoever wasathirst was bidden to come and drink. 

Some teachers are not so good as their teachings. They proclaim thelove of God for every man, and then make distinctions in theirtreatment of men. Professing love for all, they gather their skirtsclose about them when fallen ones pass by. But Jesus lived out all ofthe love of God that he taught. It was literally true in his case, that not one who came to him was ever cast out. He disregarded theproprieties of righteousness which the religious teachers of his ownpeople had formulated and fixed. They read in the synagogue services, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself, " but they limited the wordneighbor until it included only the circle of the socially andspiritually _élite_. Jesus taught that a man's neighbor is afellow-man in need, whoever he may be. Then, when the lost and theoutcast came to him they found the love of God indeed incarnate in him. 

At one time we read that all the publicans and sinners drew near untohim to hear him. The religious teachers of the Jews found sore faultwith him, saying, "This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. "But he vindicated his course by telling them that he had come for thevery purpose of seeking the lost ones. On another occasion he saidthat he was a physician, and that the physician's mission was not tothe whole, but to the sick. He had come not to call the righteous, butsinners, to repentance. A poor woman who was a sinner, having heardhis gracious invitation, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavyladen, " came to his feet, at once putting his preaching to the test. She came weeping, and, falling at his feet, wet them with her tears, and then wiped them with her dishevelled hair and kissed them. Thenshe took an alabaster box, and breaking it, poured the ointment on hisfeet. It was a violation of all the proprieties to permit such a womanto stay at his feet, making such demonstrations. If he had been aJewish rabbi, he would have thrust her away with execrations, asbringing pollution in her touch. But Jesus let the woman stay andfinish her act of penitence and love, and then spoke words whichassured her of forgiveness and peace. 

 "She sat and wept, and with her untressed hair Still wiped the feet she was so blest to touch; And he wiped off the soiling of despair From her sweet soul, because she loved so much. "

This is but one of the many proofs in Jesus' life of the sincerity ofthe wide invitations he gave. Continually the lost and fallen came tohim, for there was something in him that made it easy for them to comeand tell him all the burden of their sin and their yearning for abetter life. Even one whom he afterward chose as an apostle was apublican when Jesus called him to be his disciple. He took him inamong his friends, into his own inner household; and now his name is onone of the foundations of the heavenly city, as an apostle of the Lamb. 

Thus we see how broad was the love of Christ, both in word and in act. Toward every human life his heart yearned. He had a blessing to bestowupon every soul. Whosoever would might be a friend of Jesus, and comein among those who stood closest to him. Not one was shut out. 

Then, there is another class of words which appear to limit these wideinvitations and this gracious love. Again and again Jesus seems todiscourage discipleship. When men would come, he bids them considerand count the cost before they decide. One passage tells of threeaspirants for discipleship, for all of whom he seems to have made ithard to follow him. 

One man came to him, and with glib and easy profession said, "I willfollow thee whithersoever thou goest. " This seemed all that could havebeen asked. No man could do more. Yet Jesus discouraged this ardentscribe. He saw that he did not know what he was saying, that he hadnot counted the cost, and that his devotion would fail in the face ofthe hardship and self-denial which discipleship would involve. So heanswered, "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests;but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head. " That is, hepainted a picture of his own poverty and homelessness, as if to say, "That is what it will mean for you to follow me; are you ready for it?"

Then Jesus turned to another, and said to him, "Follow me. " But thisman asked time. "Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father. "This seemed a reasonable request. Filial duties stand high in allinspired teaching. Yet Jesus said, "No; leave the dead to bury theirown dead; but go thou and publish abroad the kingdom of God. "Discipleship seems severe in its demands if even a sacred duty of loveto a father must be foregone that the man might go instantly to hiswork as a missionary. 

There was a third case. Another man, overhearing what had been said, proposed also to become a disciple--but not yet. "I will follow thee;but first suffer me to bid farewell to them that are at my house. "That, too, appeared only a fit thing to do; but again the answer seemsstern and severe. "No man, having put his hand to the plough, andlooking back, is fit for the kingdom of God. " Even the privilege ofrunning home to say "Good-by" must be denied to him who follows Jesus. 

These incidents show, not that Jesus would make it hard and costly formen to be his disciples, but that discipleship must be unconditional, whatever the cost, and that even the holiest duties of human love mustbe made secondary to the work of Christ's kingdom. Another markedinstance of like teaching was in the case of the young ruler who wantedto know the way of life. We try to make it easy for inquirers to beginto follow Christ, but Jesus set a hard task for this rich young man. He must give up all his wealth, and come empty-handed with the newMaster. Why did he so discourage this earnest seeker? He saw into hisheart, and perceived that he could not be a true disciple unless hefirst won a victory over himself. The issue was his money orJesus--which? The way was made so hard that for that day, at least, the young man turned away, clutching his money, leaving Jesus. 

Really, a like test was made in every discipleship. Those who followedhim left all, and went empty-handed with him. They were required togive up father and mother, and wife and children, and lands, and totake up their cross and follow him. 

Why were the broad invitations of the heart of Jesus so narrowed intheir practical application? The answer is very simple. Jesus was therevealing of God--God manifest in the flesh. He had come into thisworld not merely to heal a few sick people, to bring back joy to a fewdarkened homes by the restoring of their dead, to formulate a system ofmoral and ethical teachings, to start a wave of kindliness and aministry of mercy and love; he had come to save a lost world, to liftmen up out of sinfulness into holiness. 

There was only one way to do this, --men must be brought back intoloyalty to God. Jesus astonishes us by the tremendous claims anddemands he makes. He says that men must come unto him if they wouldfind rest; that they must believe on him if they would have everlastinglife; that they must love him more than any human friend; that theymust obey him with absolute, unquestioning obedience; that they mustfollow him as the supreme and only guide of their life, committing alltheir present and eternal interests into his hands. In a word, he putshimself deliberately into the place of God, demanding for himself allthat God demands, and then promising to those who accept him all theblessings that God promises to his children. 

This was the way Jesus sought to save men. As the human revealing ofGod, coming down close to humanity, and thus bringing God within theirreach, he said, "Believe on me, love me, trust me, and follow me, and Iwill lift you up to eternal blessedness. " While the invitation wasuniversal, the blessings it offered could be given only to those whowould truly receive Christ as the Son of God. If Jesus seemed todemand hard things of those who would follow him, it was because in noother way could men be saved. No slight and easy bond would bind themto him, and only by their attachment to him could they be led into thekingdom of God. If he sometimes seemed to discourage discipleship, itwas that no one might be deceived as to the meaning of the new life towhich Jesus was inviting men. He would have no followers who did notfirst count the cost, and know whether they were ready to go with him. Men could be lifted up into a heavenly life only by a friendship withJesus which would prove stronger than all other ties. 

Religion, therefore, is a passion for Christ. "I have only onepassion, " said Zinzendorf, "and that is he. " Love for Christ is thepower that during these nineteen centuries has been transforming theworld. Law could never have done it, though enforced by the most awfulmajesty. The most perfect moral code, though proclaimed with supremeauthority, would never have changed darkness to light, cruelty tohumaneness, rudeness to gentleness. What is it that gives the gospelits resistless power? It is the Person at the heart of it. Men arenot called to a religion, to a creed, to a code of ethics, to anecclesiastical system, --they are called to love and follow a Person. 

But what is it in Jesus that so draws men, that wins their allegianceaway from every other master, that makes them ready to leave all forhis sake, and to follow him through peril and sacrifice, even to death?Is it his wonderful teaching? "No man ever spake like this man. " Isit his power as revealed in his miracles? Is it his sinlessness? Themost malignant scrutiny could find no fault in him. Is it the perfectbeauty of his character? Not one nor all of these will account for thewonderful attraction of Jesus. Love is the secret. He came into theworld to reveal the love of God--he was the love of God in human flesh. His life was all love. In a most wonderful way during all his life didhe reveal love. Men saw it in his face, and felt it in his touch, andheard it in his voice. This was the great fact which his disciplesfelt in his life. His friendship was unlike any friendship they hadever seen before, or even dreamed of. It was this that drew them tohim, and made them love him so deeply, so tenderly. Nothing but lovewill kindle love. Power will not do it. Holiness will not do it. Gifts will not do it--men will take your gifts, and then repay you withhatred. But love begets love; heart responds to heart. Jesus loved. 

But the love he revealed in his life, in his tender friendship, was notthe supremest manifesting of his love. He crowned it all by giving hislife. "I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life forthe sheep. " This was the most wonderful exhibition of love the worldhad ever seen. Now and then some one had been willing to die for achoice and prized friend; but Jesus died for a world of enemies. Itwas not for the beloved disciple and for the brave Peter that he gavehis life, --then we might have understood it, --but it was for the raceof sinful men that he poured out his most precious blood, --the blood ofeternal redemption. It is this marvellous love in Jesus which attractsmen to him. His life, and especially his cross, declares to every one:"God loves you. The Son of God gave himself for you. " Jesus himselfexplained the wonderful secret in his words: "I, if I be lifted up fromthe earth, will draw all men unto me. " It is on his cross that hismarvellous power is most surpassingly revealed. The secret of theattraction of the cross is love. "He loved me, and he gave himself forme. "

Thus we find hints of what Jesus is as a friend--what he was to hisfirst disciples, what he is to-day. His is perfect friendship. Thebest and richest human friendships are only little fragments of theperfect ideal. Even these we prize as the dearest things on earth. They are more precious than rarest gems. We would lose all otherthings rather than give up our friends. They bring to us deep joys, sweet comforts, holy inspirations. Life without friendship would beempty and lonely. Love is indeed the greatest thing. Nothing else inall the world will fill and satisfy the heart. Even earth'sfriendships are priceless. Yet the best and truest of them are onlyfragments of the perfect friendship. They bring us only little cupfulsof blessing. Their gentleness is marred by human infirmity, andsometimes turns to harshness. Their helpfulness at best is impulsiveand uncertain, and ofttimes is inopportune and ill-timed. 

But the friendship of Jesus is perfect. Its touch is always gentle andfull of healing. Its helpfulness is always wise. Its tenderness islike the warmth of a heavenly summer, brooding over the life whichaccepts it. All the love of God pours forth in the friendship ofJesus. To be his beloved is to be held in the clasp of the everlastingarms. "I and my Father are one, " said Jesus; his friendship, therefore, is the friendship of the Father. Those who accept it intruth find their lives flooded with a wealth of blessing. 

Creeds have their place in the Christian life; their articles are thegreat framework of truth about which the fabric rises and from which itreceives its strength. Worship is important, if it is vitalized byfaith and the Holy Spirit. Rites have their sacred value as thechannels through which divine grace is communicated. But that which isvital in all spiritual life is the friendship of Jesus, coming to us inwhatever form it may. To know the love of Christ which passethknowledge is living religion. Creeds and services and rites andsacraments bring blessing to us only as they interpret to us this love, and draw us into closer personal relations with Christ. 

 "Behold him now where he comes! Not the Christ of our subtile creeds, But the light of our hearts, of our homes, Of our hopes, our prayers, our needs, The brother of want and blame, The lover of women and men. "

The friendship of Jesus takes our poor earthly lives, and lifts them upout of the dust into beauty and blessedness. It changes everything forus. It makes us children of God in a real and living sense. It bringsus into fellowship with all that is holy and true. It kindles in us afriendship for Christ, turning all the tides of our life into new andholy channels. It thus transforms us into the likeness of our Friend, whose we are, and whom we serve. 

Thus Jesus is saving the world by renewing men's lives. He is settingup the kingdom of heaven on the earth. His subjects are won, not byforce of arms, not by a display of Sinaitic terrors, but by the forceof love. Men are taught that God loves them; they see that love firstin the life of Jesus, then on his cross, where he died as the Lamb ofGod, bearing the sin of the world. Under the mighty sway of that lovethey yield their hearts to heaven's King. Thus love's conquests aregoing on. The friendship of Jesus is changing earth's sin and evilinto heaven's holiness and beauty. 

CHAPTER V. 

JESUS CHOOSING HIS FRIENDS. 

 He seeks not thine, but thee, such as thou art, For lo, his banner over thee is love. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. 

 If you loved only what were worth your love, Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you. Make the low nature better by your throes! Give earth yourself, go up for gain above. BROWNING. 

Nothing in life is more important than the choosing of friends. Manyyoung people wreck all by wrong choices, taking into their life thosewho by their influence drag them down. Many a man's moral failuredates from the day he chose a wrong friend. Many a woman's life ofsorrow or evil began with the letting into her heart of an unworthyfriendship. On the other hand, many a career of happiness, ofprosperity, of success, of upward climbing, may be traced to the choiceof a pure, noble, rich-hearted, inspiring friend. Mrs. Browning askedCharles Kingsley, "What is the secret of your life? Tell me, that Imay make mine beautiful too. " He replied, "I had a friend. " There aremany who have reached eminence of character or splendor of life whocould give the same answer. They had a friend who came into their lifeat the right time, sent from God, and inspired in them whatever isbeautiful in their character, whatever is worthy and noble in theircareer. 

We may not put our Lord's choice of his apostles on precisely the sameplane as our selecting of friends, as those men were to be more thanordinary friends; he was to put his mantle upon them, and they were tobe the founders of his Church. Nevertheless, we may take lessons fromthe story for ourselves. 

Jesus chose his friends deliberately. His disciples had been gatheringabout him for months. It was at least a year after the beginning ofhis public ministry that he chose the Twelve. He had had ample time toget well acquainted with the company of his followers, to test them, tostudy their character, to learn their qualities of strength or weakness. 

Many fatal mistakes in the choosing of friends come from unfit haste. We would better take time to know our possible friends, and be surethat we know them well, before making the solemn compact that seals theattachment. 

Jesus made his choice of friends a subject of prayer. He spent a wholenight in prayer with God, and then came in the morning to choose hisapostles. If Jesus needed thus to pray before choosing his friends, how much more should we seek God's counsel before taking a newfriendship into our life! We cannot know what it may mean to us, whither it may lead us, what sorrow, care, or pain it may bring to us, what touches of beauty or of marring it may put upon our soul, and wedare not admit it unless God gives it to us. In nothing do youngpeople need more the guidance of divine wisdom than when they aresettling the question of who shall be their friends. At the LastSupper Jesus said in his prayer, referring to his disciples, "Thinethey were, and thou gavest them me. " It makes a friendship very sacredto be able to say, "God gave it to me. God sent me this friend. "

In choosing his friends, Jesus thought not chiefly of the comfort andhelp they would be to him, but far more of what he might be to them. He did crave friendship for himself. His heart needed it just as anytrue human heart does. He welcomed affection whenever any one broughtthe gift to him. He accepted the friendship of the poor, of thechildren, of those he helped. We cannot understand how much theBethany home was to him, with its confidence, its warmth, its shelter, its tender affection. One of the most pathetic incidents in the wholeGospel story is the hunger of Jesus for sympathy in the garden, when hecame again and again to his human friends, hoping to find them alert inwatchful love, and found them asleep. It was a cry of deepdisappointment which came from his lips, "Could ye not watch with meone hour?" Jesus craved the blessing of friendship for himself, and inchoosing the Twelve expected comfort and strength from his fellowshipwith them. 

But his deepest desire was that he might be a blessing to them. Hecame "not to be ministered unto, but to minister;" not to have friends, but to be a friend. He chose the Twelve that he might lift them up tohonor and good; that he might purify, refine, and enrich their lives;that he might prepare them to be his witnesses, the conservators of hisgospel, the interpreters to the world of his life and teachings. Hesought nothing for himself, but every breath he drew was full ofunselfish love. 

We should learn from Jesus that the essential quality in the heart offriendship is not the desire to have friends, but the desire to be afriend; not to get good and help from others, but to impart blessing toothers. Many of the sighings for friendship which we have are merelyselfish longings, --a desire for happiness, for pleasure, for thegratification of the heart, which friends would bring. If the desirewere to be a friend, to do others good, to serve and to give help, itwould be a far more Christlike longing, and would transform the lifeand character. 

We are surprised at the kind of men Jesus chose for his friends. Wewould suppose that he, the Son of God, coming from heaven, would havegathered about him as his close and intimate companions the mostrefined and cultivated men of his nation, --men of intelligence, oftrained mind, of wide influence. Instead of going to Jerusalem, however, to choose his apostles from among rabbis, priests, scribes, and rulers, he selected them from among the plain people, largely fromamong fishermen of Galilee. One reason for this was that he mustchoose these inner friends from the company which had been drawn to himand were already his followers, in true sympathy with him; and therewere none of the great, the learned, the cultured, among these. Butanother reason was, that he cared more for qualities of the heart thanfor rank, position, name, worldly influence, or human wisdom. Hewanted near him only those who would be of the same mind with him, andwhom he could train into loyal, sympathetic apostles. 

Jesus took these untutored, undisciplined men into his own household, and at once began to prepare them for their great work. It is worthyof note, that instead of scattering his teachings broadcast among thepeople, so that who would might gather up his words, and diffusing hisinfluence throughout a mass of disciples, while distinctly anddefinitely impressing none ineffaceably, Jesus chose twelve men, andconcentrated his influence upon them. He took them into the closestrelations to himself, taught them the great truths of his kingdom, impressed upon them the stamp of his own life, and breathed into themhis own spirit. We think of the apostles as great men; they did becomegreat. Their influence filled many lands--fills all the world to-day. They sit on thrones, judging all the tribes of men, But all that theybecame, they became through the friendship of Jesus. He gave them alltheir greatness. He trained them until their rudeness grew intorefined culture. No doubt he gave much time to them in private. Theywere with him continually. They saw all his life. 

It was a high privilege to live with Jesus those three years, --eatingwith him, walking with him, hearing all his conversations, witnessinghis patience, his kindness, his thoughtfulness. It was almost likeliving in heaven; for Jesus was the Son of God--God manifest in theflesh. When Philip said to Jesus, "Lord, show us the Father, and itsufficeth us, " Jesus answered, "He that hath seen me hath seen theFather. " Living with Jesus was, therefore, living with God--his glorytempered by the gentle humanity in which it was veiled, but no lessdivine because of this. For three years the disciples lived with God. No wonder that their lives were transformed, and that the best that wasin them was wooed out by the blessed summer weather of love in whichthey moved. 

"He chose twelve. " Probably this was because there were twelve tribesof Israel, and the number was to be continued. One evangelist saysthat he sent them out two and two. Why by two and two? With all theworld to evangelize, would it not have been better if they had gone outone by one? Then they would have reached twice as many points. Was itnot a waste of force, of power, to send two to the same place?

No doubt Jesus had reasons. It would have been lonely for one man togo by himself. If there were two, one would keep the other company. There was opposition to the gospel in those days, and it would havebeen hard for one to endure persecution alone. The handclasp of abrother would make the heart braver and stronger. We do not know howmuch we owe to our companionships, how they strengthen us, how often wewould fail and sink down without them. 

One of the finest definitions of happiness in literature is that givenby Oliver Wendell Holmes. "Happiness, " said the Autocrat, "is fourfeet on the fender. " When his beloved wife was gone, and an old friendcame in to condole with him, he said, shaking his gray head, "Only twofeet on the fender now. " Congenial companionship is wonderfullyinspiring. Aloneness is pain. You cannot kindle a fire with one coal. A log will not burn alone. But put two coals or two logs side by side, and the fire kindles and blazes and burns hotly. Jesus yoked hisapostles in twos that mutual friendship might inspire them both. 

There was another reason for mating the Twelve. Each of them was onlya fragment of a man--not one of them was full-rounded, a complete man, strong at every point. Each had a strength of his own, with acorresponding weakness. Then Jesus yoked them together so that eachtwo made one good man. The hasty, impetuous, self-confident Peterneeded the counterbalancing of the cautious, conservative Andrew. Thomas the doubter was matched by Matthew the strong believer. It wasnot an accidental grouping by which the Twelve fell into six parts. Jesus knew what was in man; and he yoked these men together in a waywhich brought out the best that was in each of them, and by thusblending their lives, turned their very faults and weaknesses intobeauty and strength. He did not try to make them all alike. He madeno effort to have Peter grow quiet and gentle like John, or Thomasbecome an enthusiastic, unquestioning believer like Matthew, He soughtfor each man's personality, and developed that. He knew that to try torecast Peter's tremendous energy into staidness and caution would onlyrob him of what was best in his nature. He found room in his apostlefamily for as many different types of temperament as there were men, setting the frailties of one over against the excessive virtues of theother. 

It is interesting to note the method of Jesus in training his apostles. The aim of true friendship anywhere is not to make life easy for one'sfriend, but to make something of the friend. That is God's method. Hedoes not hurry to take away every burden under which he sees usbending. He does not instantly answer our prayer for relief, when webegin to cry to him about the difficulty we have, or the trial we arefacing, or the sacrifice we are making. He does not spare us hardship, loss, or pain. He wants not to make things easy for us, but to makesomething of us. We grow under burdens. It is poor, mistakenfathering or mothering that thinks only of saving a child from hardtasks or severe discipline. It is weak friendship that seeks onlypleasure and indulgence for a loved one. "The chief want in life issomebody who shall make us do the best we can. "

Jesus was the truest of friends. He never tried to make the burdenlight, the path smooth, the struggle easy. He wished to make men ofhis apostles, --men who could stand up and face the world; men whosecharacter would reflect the beauty of holiness in its every line; menin whose hands his gospel would be safe when they went out as hisambassadors. He set for each apostle a high ideal, and then helped himto work up to the ideal. He taught them that the law of the cross isthe law of life, that the saving of one's life is the losing of it, andthat only when we lose our life, as men rate it, giving it out inlove's service, do we really save it. 

It is not easy to make a man. It is said that the violin-makers indistant lands, by breaking and mending with skilful hands, at lastproduce instruments having a more wonderful capacity than ever waspossible to them when new, unbroken and whole. Whether this be true ornot of violins, it certainly is true of human lives. We cannot merelygrow into strength, beauty, nobleness, and power of helpfulness, without discipline, pain, and cost. It is written even of Jesushimself that he was made perfect through suffering. There was no sinin him; but his perfectness as a sympathizing Friend, as a helpfulSaviour, came through struggle, trial, pain, and sorrow. Not one ofthe apostles reached his royal strength as a man, as a helper of men, as a representative of Jesus, without enduring loss and suffering. Noman who ever rises to a place of real worth and usefulness in the worldwalks on a rose-strewn path. We never can be made fit for anythingbeautiful and worthy without cost of pain and tears. Always it is truethat--

 "Things that hurt and things that mar Shape the man for perfect praise; Shock and strain and ruin are Friendlier than the smiling days. "

How about ourselves? Life is made very real to our thought when weremember that in all the experiences of joy and sorrow, pleasure andpain, success and failure, health and sickness, quiet or struggle, Godis making men of us. Then he watches us to see if we fail. Here is aman who is passing through sore trial. For many months his wife hasbeen a great sufferer. All the while he has been carrying a heavyburden, --a financial burden, a burden of sympathy; for every moment'spain that his wife has suffered has been like a sword in his ownheart, --burdens of care, with broken nights and weary days. We may besure of God's tender interest in the wife who suffers in the sick-room;but his eye is even more intently fixed upon him who is bearing theburden of sympathy and care. He is watching to see if the man willstand the test, and grow sweeter and stronger. Everything hard orpainful in a Christian's life is another opportunity for him to get anew victory, and become a little more a man. 

It is remarkable how little we know about the apostles. A few of themare fairly prominent. Peter and James and John we know quite well, astheir names are made familiar in the inspired story. Matthew we knowby the Gospel he wrote. Thomas we remember by his doubts. AnotherJudas, not Iscariot, probably left us a little letter. Of the rest weknow almost nothing but their names. Indeed, few Bible readers cangive even the names of all the Twelve. 

No doubt one reason why no more is told us about the apostles is thatthe Bible magnifies only one name. It is not a book of biographies, but the book of the Lord Jesus Christ. Each apostle had a sacredfriendship all his own with his Master, a friendship with which noother could intermeddle. We can imagine the quiet talks, the longwalks with the deep communings, the openings of heart, the confessionsof weakness and failure, the many prayers together. We may be verysure that through those three wonderful years there ran twelve storiesof holy friendship, with their blessed revealings of the Master's heartto the heart of each man. But not a word of all this is written in theNew Testament. It was too sacred to be recorded for any eye of earthto read. 

We may be sure, too, that each man of the Twelve did a noble work afterthe Ascension, but no pen wrote the narratives for preservation. Thereare traditions, but there is in them little that is certainly history. The Acts is not the acts of the apostles. The book tells a littleabout John, a little more about Peter, most about Paul, and of theothers gives nothing but a list of their names in the first chapter. 

Yet we need not trouble ourselves about this. It is the same with thegood and the useful in every age. A few names are preserved, but thegreat multitude are forgotten. Earth keeps scant record of itsbenefactors. But there is a place where every smallest kindness donein the name of Christ is recorded and remembered. 

Long, long ages ago a beautiful fern grew in a deep vale, nodding inthe breeze. One day it fell, complaining as it sank away that no onewould remember its grace and beauty. The other day a geologist wentout with his hammer in the interest of his science. He struck a rock;and there in the seam lay the form of a fern--every leaf, every fibre, the most delicate traceries of the leaves. It was the fern which agessince grew and dropped into the indistinguishable mass of vegetation. It perished; but its memorial was preserved, and to-day is mademanifest. 

So it is with the stories of the obscure apostles, and of all beautifullives which have wrought for God and for man and have vanished fromearth. Nothing is lost, nothing is forgotten. The memorials are inother lives, and some day every touch and trace and influence andimpression will be revealed. In the book of The Revelation we are toldthat in the foundations of the heavenly city are the names of thetwelve apostles of the Lamb. The New Testament does not tell the storyof their worthy lives, but it is cut deep in the eternal rock, whereall eyes shall see it forever. 

On the lives of these chosen friends Jesus impressed his own image. His blessed divine-human friendship transformed them into men who wentto the ends of the world for him, carrying his name. It was a new andstrange influence on the earth--this holy friendship of Jesus Christstarted in the hearts and lives of the apostles. At once it began tomake this old world new. Those who believed received the samewonderful friendship into their own hearts. They loved each other in away men had never loved before. Christians lived together as onefamily. 

Ever since the day of Pentecost this wonderful friendship of Jesus hasbeen spreading wherever the gospel has gone. It has given to the worldits Christian homes with their tender affections; it has builthospitals and asylums, and established charitable institutions of allkinds in every place where its story has been told. From the cross ofJesus a wave of tenderness, like the warmth of summer, has rolled overall lands. The friendship of Jesus, left in the hearts of hisapostles, as his legacy to the world, has wrought marvellously; and itsministry and influence will extend until everything unlovely shallcease from earth, and the love of God shall pervade all life. 

CHAPTER VI. 

JESUS AND THE BELOVED DISCIPLE. 

 My Lord, my Love! in pleasant pain How often have I said, "Blessed that John who on thy breast Laid down his head. " It was that contact all divine Transformed him from above, And made him amongst men the man To show forth holy love. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. 

Love is regenerating the world. It is the love of God that is workingthis mighty transformation. The world was cold and loveless beforeChrist came. Of course there always was love in therace, --father-love, mother-love, filial love, love for country. Therehave always been human friendships which were constant, tender, andtrue, whose stories shine in bright lustre among the records of life. Natural affection there has always been, but Christian love was not inthe world till Christ came. 

The incarnation was the breaking into this world of the love of God. For three and thirty years Jesus walked among men, pouring out love inevery word, in every act, in all his works, and in every influence ofhis life. Then on the cross his heart broke, spilling its love uponthe earth. As Mary's ointment filled all the house where it wasemptied out, so the love of God poured out in Christ's life and deathis filling all the world. 

Jesus put his love into human hearts that it might be carriedeverywhere. Instantly there was a wondrous change. The story of theChurch after the day of Pentecost shows a spirit among the disciples ofChrist which the world had never seen before. They had all thingscommon. The strong helped the weak. They formed a fellowship whichwas almost heavenly. From that time to the present the leaven of lovehas been working. It has slowly wrought itself into every departmentof life, --into art, literature, music, laws, education, morals. Everyhospital, orphanage, asylum, and reformatory in the world has beeninspired by the love of Christ. Christian civilization is a product ofthis same divine affection working through the nations. 

Perhaps no other of the Master's disciples has done so much in theinterpreting and the diffusing of the love of Christ in the world asthe beloved disciple has done. Peter was the mightiest force at thebeginning in the founding of the Church. Then came Paul with histremendous missionary energy, carrying Christianity to the ends of theearth. Each of these apostles was greatest in his own way and place. But John has done more than either of these to bless the world withlove. His influence is everywhere. He is likest Jesus of all thedisciples. His influence is slowly spreading among men. We see it inthe enlarging spirit of love among Christians, in the increase ofphilanthropy, in the growing sentiment that war must cease amongChristian nations, all disputes to be settled by arbitration, and inthe feeling of universal brotherhood which is softening all true men'shearts toward each other. 

It cannot but be intensely interesting to trace the story of thefriendship of Jesus and John, for it was in this hallowed friendshipthat John learned all that he gave the world in his life and words. Weare able to fix its beginning--when Jesus and John met for the firsttime. One day John the Baptist was standing by the Jordan with two ofhis disciples. One of these was Andrew; and the other we know wasJohn--we know it because in John's own Gospel, where the incident isrecorded, no name is given. The two young men had not yet seen Jesus;but the Baptist knew him, and pointed him out as he passed by, saying, "Behold the Lamb of God!"

The two young men went after Jesus, no doubt eager to speak with him. Hearing their footsteps behind him, he turned, and asked them what theysought. They asked, "Rabbi, where abidest thou?" He said, "Come, andye shall see. " They gladly accepted the invitation, went with him tohis lodgings, and remained until the close of the day. We have noaccount of what took place during those happy hours. It would beinteresting to know what Jesus said to his visitors, but not a word ofthe conversation has been preserved. We may be sure, however, that thevisit made a deep impression on John. 

Most days in our lives are unmarked by any special event. There arethousands of them that seem just alike, with their common routine. Once or twice, however, in the lifetime of almost every person, thereis a day which is made forever memorable by some event oroccurrence, --the first meeting with one who fills a large place inone's after years, a compact of sacred friendship, a revealing of somenew truth, a decision which brought rich blessing, or some otherexperience which set the day forever apart among all days. 

John lived to be a very old man; but to his latest years he must haveremembered the day when he first met Jesus, and began with him thefriendship which brought him such blessing. We may be sure that as attheir first meeting the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul ofDavid, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul, so at this first meetingthe soul of John was knit with the soul of Jesus in a holy friendshipwhich brought unspeakable good to his life. There was that in Jesuswhich at once touched all that was best in John, and called out thesweetest music of his soul. 

 "Thou shall know him when he comes Not by any din of drums, Nor the vantage of his airs; Neither by his crown, Nor by his gown, Nor by anything he wears. He shall only well-known be By the holy harmony That his coming makes in thee!"

John calls himself the "disciple whom Jesus loved. " This designationgives him a distinction even among the Master's personal friends. Jesus loved all the apostles, but there were three who belonged in aninner circle. Then, of these three, John was the best beloved. We arenot told what it was in John that gave him this highest honor. He wasprobably a cousin of Jesus, as it is thought by many that their motherswere sisters. This blood relationship, however, would not account forthe strong love that bound them together. There must have been certainqualities in John which fitted him in a peculiar way for being theclosest friend of Jesus. 

We know that John's personality was very winning. He was only afisherman, and in his youth lacked opportunities for acquiringknowledge or refinement. If Mary and Salome were sisters, the blood ofDavid's line was in John as well as in Jesus. It is something to haveback of one's birth a long and noble descent. Besides, John was one ofthose rare men "who appear to be formed of finer clay than theirneighbors, and cast in a gentler mould. " Evidently he was by nature aman of sympathetic spirit, one born to be a friend. 

The study of John's writings helps us to answer our question. Not oncein all his Gospel does he refer to himself by name; yet as one readsthe wonderful chapters, one is aware of a spirit, an atmosphere, ofsweetness. There are fields and meadows in which the air is laden withfragrance, and yet no flowers can be seen. But looking closely, onefinds, low on the ground, hidden by the tall grasses, a multitude oflittle lowly flowers. It is from these that the perfume comes. Inevery community there are humble, quiet lives, almost unheard of amongmen, who shed a subtle influence on all about them. Thus it is in thechapters of John's Gospel. The name of the writer nowhere appears, butthe charm of his spirit pervades the whole book. 

In the designation which he adopts for himself, there is a finerevealing of character. There is a beautiful self-obliteration in thehiding away of the author's personality that only the name and glory ofJesus may be seen. There are some good men, who, even when trying toexalt and honor their Lord, cannot resist the temptation to write theirown name large, that those who see the Master may also see the Master'sfriend. In John there is an utter absence of this spirit. As theBaptist, when asked who he was, refused to give his name, and said hewas only a voice proclaiming the coming of the King, so John spoke ofhimself only as one whom the Master loved. 

We must note, too, that he does not speak of himself as the disciplewho loved Jesus, --this would have been to boast of himself as lovingthe Master more than the other disciples did, --but as the disciple whomJesus loved. In this distinction lies one of the subtlest secrets ofChristian peace. Our hope does not rest in our love for Jesus, but inhis love for us. Our love at the best is variable in its moods. To-day it glows with warmth and joy, and we say we could die forChrist; to-morrow, in some depression, we question whether we reallylove him at all, our feeling responds so feebly to his name. A peacethat depends on our loving Christ is as variable as our ownconsciousness. But when it is Christ's love for us that is ourdependence, our peace is undisturbed by any earthly changes. 

Thus we find in John a reposeful spirit. He was content to be lowly. He knew how to trust. His spirit was gentle. He was of a deeplyspiritual nature. Yet we must not think of him as weak or effeminate. Perhaps painters have helped to give this impression of him; but it isone that is not only untrue, but dishonoring. John was a man of noblestrength. In his soul, under his quietness and sweetness of spirit, dwelt a mighty energy. But he was a man of love, and had learned thelesson of divine peace; thus he was a self-controlled man. 

These are hints of the character of the disciple whom Jesus loved, whomhe chose to be his closest friend. He was only a lad when Jesus firstmet him, and we must remember that the John we chiefly know was the manas he developed under the influence of Jesus. What Jesus saw in theyouth who sat down beside him in his lodging-place that day, drank inhis words, and opened his soul to him as a rose to the morning sun, wasa nature rich in its possibilities of noble and beautiful character. The John we know is the man as he ripened in the summer of Christ'slove. He is a product of pure Christ-culture. His young soulresponded to every inspiration in his Master, and developed into rarerloveliness every day. Doubtless one of the qualities in John thatfitted him to be the closest friend of Jesus was his openness of heart, which made him such an apt learner, so ready to respond to every touchof Christ's hand. 

It would be interesting to trace the story of this holy friendshipthrough the three years Jesus and John were together, but only a littleof the wonderful narrative is written. Some months after the firstmeeting, there was another beside the sea. For some reason John andhis companions had taken up their fishing again. Jesus came by in theearly morning, and found the men greatly discouraged because they hadbeen out all night and had caught nothing. He told them to push out, and to cast their net again, telling them where to cast it. The resultwas a great draught of fishes. It was a revealing of divine powerwhich mightily impressed the fishermen. He then bade them to followhim, and said he would make them become fishers of men. Immediatelythey left the ship, and went with Jesus. 

Thus John had now committed himself altogether to his new Master. Fromthis time he remained with Jesus, following him wherever he went. Hewas in his school, and was an apt scholar. A little later there cameanother call. Jesus chose twelve men to be apostles, and among themwas the beloved disciple. This choice and call brought him into yetcloser fellowship with Jesus. Now the transformation of characterwould go on more rapidly because of the constancy and the closeness ofJohn's association with his Master. 

A peculiar designation is given to the brothers James and John. Jesussurnamed them Boanerges, the sons of thunder. There must have been ameaning in such a name given by Jesus himself. Perhaps the figure ofthunder suggests capacity for energy--that the soul of John wascharged, as it were, with fiery zeal. It appears to us, as we readJohn's writings, that this could not have been true. He seems such aman of love that we cannot think of him as ever being possessed of anopposite feeling. But there is evidence that by nature he was full ofjust such energy held in reserve. We see John chiefly in his writings;and these were the fruit of his mellow old age, when love's lessons hadbeen well learned. It seems likely that in his youth he had in hisbreast a naturally quick, fiery temper. But under the culture of Jesusthis spirit was brought into complete mastery. We have oneillustration of this earlier natural feeling in a familiar incident. The people of a certain village refused to receive the Master, and Johnand his brother wished to call down fire from heaven to consume them. But Jesus reminded them that he was not in the world to destroy men'slives, but to save them. 

We know not how often this lesson had to be taught to John before hebecame the apostle of love. It was well on in St. Paul's old age thathe said he had learned in whatsoever state he was therein to becontent. It is a comfort to us to know that he was not always able tosay this, and that the lesson had to be learned by him just as it hasto be learned by us. It is a comfort to us also to be permitted tobelieve that John had to _learn_ to be the loving, gentle disciple hebecame in later life, and that the lesson was not an easy one. 

It is instructive also to remember that it was through his friendshipwith Jesus that John received his sweetness and lovingness ofcharacter. An old Persian apologue tells that one found a piece offragrant clay in his garden, and that when asked how it got its perfumethe clay replied, "One laid me on a rose. " John lived near the heartof Jesus, and the love of that heart of gentleness entered his soul andtransformed him. There is no other secret for any who would learnlove's great lesson. Abiding in Christ, Christ abides also in us, andwe are made like him because he lives in us. 

John's distinction of being one of the Master's closest friends broughthim several times into experiences of peculiar sacredness. Hewitnessed the transfiguration, when for an hour the real glory of theChrist shone out through his investiture of flesh. This was a visionJohn never forgot. It must have impressed itself deeply upon his soul. He was also one of those who were led into the inner shadows ofGethsemane, to be near Jesus while he suffered, and to comfort him withlove. 

This last experience especially suggests to us something of what thefriendship of John was to Jesus. There is no doubt that thisfriendship brought to John immeasurable comfort and blessing, enrichinghis life, and transforming his character. But what was the friendshipto Jesus? There is no doubt that it was a great deal to him. Hecraved affection and sympathy, as every noble heart does just in themeasure of its humanness. One of the saddest elements of theGethsemane sorrow was the disappointment of Jesus, when, hungry forlove, he went back to his chosen three, expecting to find a littlecomfort and strength, and found them sleeping. 

The picture of John at the Last Supper, leaning on Jesus' breast, showshim to us in the posture in which we think of him most. It is theplace of confidence; the bosom is only for those who have a right toclosest intimacy. It is the place of love, near the heart. It is theplace of safety, for he is in the clasp of the everlasting arms, andnone can snatch him out of the impregnable shelter. It was the darkestnight the world ever saw that John lay on the bosom of Jesus. That isthe place of comfort for all sorrowing believers, and there isabundance of room for them all on that breast. John _leaned_ on Jesus'breast, --weakness reposed on strength, helplessness on almighty help. We should learn to lean, to lean our whole weight, on Christ. That isthe privilege of Christian faith. 

There was one occasion when John seems to have broken away from hisusual humility. He joined with his brother in a request for thehighest places in the new kingdom. This is only one of the evidencesof John's humanness, --that he was of like passions with the rest of us. Jesus treated the brothers with gentle pity--"Ye know not what ye ask. "Then he explained to them that the highest places must be reachedthrough toil and sorrow, through the paths of service and suffering. Later in life John knew what the Master's words meant. He found hisplace nearest to Christ, but it was not on the steps of an earthlythrone; it was a nearness of love, and the steps to it were humility, self-forgetfulness, and ministry. 

It must have given immeasurable comfort to Jesus to have John stay sonear to him during the last scenes. If he fled for a moment in thegarden when all the apostles fled, he soon returned; for he was closeto his Master during his trial. Then, when he was on the cross, Jesussaw a group of loving friends near by, watching with breaking hearts;and among these was John. It lifted a heavy burden off the heart ofJesus to be able then to commit his mother to John, and to see him leadher away to his own home. It was a supreme expression offriendship, --choosing John from among all his friends for the sacredduty of sheltering this blessedest of women. 

The story of this beautiful friendship of Jesus and John shows us whatis possible in its own measure to every Christian discipleship. It isnot possible for every Christian to be a St. John, but close friendshipwith Jesus is the privilege of every true believer; and all who enterinto such a friendship will be transformed into the likeness of theirFriend. 

CHAPTER VII. 

JESUS AND PETER. 

 "As the mighty poets take Grief and pain to build their song, Even so for every soul, Whatsoe'er its lot may be, -- Building, as the heavens roll, Something large and strong and free, -- Things that hurt and things that mar Shape the man for perfect praise, Shock and strain and ruin are Friendlier than the smiling days. "

Our first glimpse of Simon in the New Testament is as he was beingintroduced to Jesus. It was beside the Jordan. His brother hadbrought him; and that moment a friendship began which not only was ofinfinite and eternal importance to Simon himself, but which has leftincalculable blessing in the world. 

Jesus looked at him intently, with deep, penetrating gaze. He saw intohis very soul. He read his character; not only what he was then, butthe possibilities of his life, --what he would become under the power ofgrace. He then gave him a new name. "When Jesus beheld him, he said. Thou art Simon: ... Thou shalt be called Cephas, which is byinterpretation, a stone. "

In a gallery in Europe there hang, side by side, Rembrandt's firstpicture, a simple sketch, imperfect and faulty, and his greatmasterpiece, which all men admire. So in the two names, Simon andPeter, we have, first the rude fisherman who came to Jesus that day, the man as he was before Jesus began his work on him; and second, theman as he became during the years when the friendship of Jesus hadwarmed his heart and enriched his life; when the teaching of Jesus hadgiven him wisdom and kindled holy aspirations in his soul; and when theexperiences of struggle and failure, of penitence and forgiveness, ofsorrow and joy, had wrought their transformations in him. 

"Thou art Simon. " That was his name then. "Thou shalt be calledCephas. " That was what he should become. It was common in the East togive a new name to denote a change of character, or to indicate a man'sposition among men. Abram's name was changed to Abraham--"Father of amultitude"--when the promise was sealed to him. Jacob's name, whichmeant supplanter, one who lived by deceit, was changed to Israel, aprince with God, after that night when the old nature was maimed anddefeated while he wrestled with God, and overcame by clinging in faithand trust. So Simon received a new name when he came to Jesus, andbegan his friendship with him. "Thou shalt be called Cephas. "

This did not mean that Simon's character was changed instantly into thequality which the new name indicated. It meant that Jesus saw in himthe possibilities of firmness, strength, and stability, of which astone is the emblem. It meant that this should be his character by andby, when the work of grace in him was finished. The new name was aprophecy of the man that was to be, the man that Jesus would make ofhim. Now he was only Simon--rash, impulsive, self-confident, vain, andtherefore weak and unstable. 

Some of the processes in this making of a man, this transformation ofSimon into Cephas, we may note as we read the story. There were threeyears between the beginning of the friendship of Jesus and Simon andthe time when the man was ready for his work. The process was noteasy. Simon had many hard lessons to learn. Self-confidence had to bechanged into humility. Impetuosity had to be chastened and disciplinedinto quiet self-control. Presumption had to be awed and softened intoreverence. Thoughtfulness had to grow out of heedlessness. Rashnesshad to be subdued into prudence, and weakness had to be tempered intocalm strength. All this moral history was folded up in the words, "Thou shalt be called Cephas--a stone. "

The meeting by the Jordan was the beginning. A new friendship cominginto a life may color all its future, may change its destiny. We neverknow what may come of any chance meeting. But the beginning of afriendship with Jesus has infinite possibilities of good. The givingof the new name must have put a new thought of life's meaning intoSimon's heart. It must have set a new vision in his soul, and kindlednew aspirations within his breast. Life must have meant more to himfrom that hour. He had glimpses of possibilities he had never dreamedof before. It is always so when Jesus truly comes into any one's life. A new conception of character dawns on the soul, a new ideal, arevelation which changes all thoughts of living. The friendship ofJesus is most inspiring. 

Some months passed, and then came a formal call which drew Simon intoclose and permanent relations with Jesus. It was on the Sea ofGalilee. The men were fishing. There had been a night of unsuccessfultoil. In the morning Jesus used Simon's boat for a pulpit, speakingfrom its deck to the throngs on the shore. He then bade the men pushout into deep water and let down their net. Simon said it was notworth while--still he would do the Master's bidding. The result was animmense haul of fishes. 

The effect of the miracle on Simon's mind was overwhelming. Instantlyhe felt that he was in the presence of divine revealing, and a sense ofhis own sinfulness and unworthiness oppressed him. "Depart from me;for I am a sinful man, O Lord, " he cried. Jesus quieted his terrorwith his comforting "Fear not. " Then he said to him, "From henceforththou shalt catch men. " This was another self-revealing. Simon's workas a fisherman was ended. He forsook all, and followed Jesus, becominga disciple in the full sense. His friendship with Jesus was deepening. He gave up everything he had, going with Jesus into poverty, homelessness, and--he knew not what. 

Living in the personal household of Jesus, Simon saw his Master's lifein all its manifold phases, hearing the words he spoke whether inpublic on in private conversation, and witnessing every revealing ofhis character, disposition, and spirit. It is impossible to estimatethe influence of all this on the life of Simon. He was continuallyseeing new things in Jesus, hearing new words from his lips, learningnew lessons from his life. One cannot live in daily companionship withany good man without being deeply influenced by the association. Tolive with Jesus in intimate relations of friendship was a holyprivilege, and its effect on Simon's character cannot be estimated. 

An event which must have had a great influence on Simon was his call tobe an apostle. Not only was he one of the Twelve, but his name camefirst--it is always given first. He was the most honored of all, wasto be their leader, occupying the first place among them. Atrue-hearted man is not elated or puffed up by such honoring as this. It humbles him, rather, because the distinction brings with it a senseof responsibility. It awes a good man to become conscious that God isintrusting him with place and duty in the world, and is using him to bea blessing to others. He must walk worthy of his high calling. A newsanctity invests him--the Lord has set him apart for holy service. 

Another event which had a marked influence on Simon was his recognitionof the Messiahship of Jesus. Just how this great truth dawned upon hisconsciousness we do not know, but there came a time when the convictionwas so strong in him that he could not but give expression to it. Itwas in the neighborhood of Caesarea Philippi. Jesus had led the Twelveapart into a secluded place for prayer. There he asked them two solemnquestions. He asked them first what the people were saying abouthim--who they thought he was. The answer showed that he was notunderstood by them; there were different opinions about him, none ofthem correct. Then he asked the Twelve who they thought he was. Simonanswered, "The Christ, the Son of the living God. " The confession waswonderfully comprehensive. It declared that Jesus was the Messiah, andthat he was a divine being--the Son of the living God. 

It was a great moment in Simon's life when he uttered this wonderfulconfession. Jesus replied with a beatitude for Simon, and then spokeanother prophetic word: "Thou art Peter, " using now the new name whichwas beginning to be fitting, as the new man that was to be was growingout of the old man that was being left behind. "Thou art Peter, andupon this rock I will build my church. " It was a further unveiling ofSimon's future. It was in effect an unfolding or expansion of what hehad said when Simon first stood before him. "Thou shalt be calledCephas. " As a confessor of Christ, representing all the apostles, Peter was thus honored by his Lord. 

But the Messianic lesson was yet only partly learned. Simon believedthat Jesus was the Messiah, but his conception of the Messiah was stillonly an earthly one. So we read that from that time Jesus began toteach the apostles the truth about his mission, --that he must suffermany things, and be killed. Then it was that Simon made his gravemistake in seeking to hold his Master back from the cross. "Be it farfrom thee, Lord: this shall never be unto thee, " he said with greatvehemence. Quickly came the stern reply, "Get thee behind me, Satan:thou art a stumbling-block unto me. " Simon had to learn a new lesson. He did not get it fully learned until after Jesus had risen again, andthe Holy Spirit had come, --that the measure of rank in spiritual lifeis the measure of self-forgetting service. 

We get a serious lesson here in love and friendship. It is possiblefor us to become Satan even to those we love the best. We do this whenwe try to dissuade them from hard toil, costly service, or perilousmissions to which God is calling them. We need to exercise the mostdiligent care, and to keep firm restraint upon our own affections, lestin our desire to make the way easier for our friends we tempt them toturn from the path which God has chosen for their feet. 

Thus lesson after lesson did Simon have to learn, each one leading to adeeper humility. "Less of self and more of thee--none of self and allof thee. " Thus we reach the last night with its sad fall. The denialof Peter was a terrible disappointment. We would have said it wasimpossible, as Peter himself said. He was brave as a lion. He lovedJesus deeply and truly. He had received the name of the rock. Forthree years he had been under the teaching of Jesus, and he had beenreceived into special honor and favor among the apostles. He had beenfaithfully forewarned of his danger, and we say, "Forewarned isforearmed. " Yet in spite of all, this bravest, most favored disciple, this man of rock, fell most ignominiously, at a time, too, whenfriendship to his Master ought to have made him truest and most loyal. 

It was the loving gentleness of Jesus that saved him. What intensepain there must have been in the heart of the Master when, afterhearing Peter's denial, he turned and looked at Peter!

 "I think the look of Christ might seem to say, -- 'Thou Peter! art thou then a common stone Which I at last must break my heart upon, For all God's charge to his high angels may Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should run Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun? And do thy kisses like the rest betray? The cock crows coldly. Go and manifest A late contrition, but no bootless fear! For when thy final need is dreariest, Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here. My voice, to God and angels, shall attest, "Because I know this man, let him be clear. "'"

It was after this look of wondrous love that Peter went out and weptbitterly. At last he remembered. It seemed too late, but it was nottoo late. The heart of Jesus was not closed against him, and he rosefrom his fall a new man. 

What place had the denial in the story of the training of Peter? Ithad a very important place. Up to that last night, there was still agrave blemish in Simon's character. His self-confidence was an elementof weakness. Perhaps there was no other way in which this fault couldbe cured but by allowing him to fall. We know at least that, in thebitter experience of denial, with its solemn repenting, Peter lost hisweakness. He came from his penitence a new man. At last he wasdisinthralled. He had learned the lesson of humility. It was neveragain possible for him to deny his Lord. A little later, after aheart-searching question thrice repeated, he was restored andrecommissioned--"Feed my lambs; feed my sheep. "

So the work was completed; the vision of the new man had been realized. Simon had become Cephas. It had been a long and costly process, butneither too long nor too costly. While the marble was wasting, theimage was growing. 

You say it was a great price that Simon had to pay to be fashioned intoPeter. You ask whether it was worth while, whether it would not havebeen quite as well for him if he had remained the plain, obscurefisherman he was when Jesus first found him. Then he would have beenonly a fisherman, and after living among his neighbors for his allottedyears, he would have had a quiet funeral one day, and would have beenlaid to rest beside the sea. As it was, he had a life of poverty andtoil and hard service. It took a great deal of severe discipline tomake out of him the strong, firm man of rock that Jesus set out toproduce in him. But who will say to-day that it was not worth while?The splendid Christian manhood of Peter has been now for nineteencenturies before the eyes of the world as a type of character whichChristian men should emulate--a vision of life whose influence hastouched millions with its inspiration. The price which had to be paidto attain this nobleness of character and this vastness of holyinfluence was not too great. 

But how about ourselves? It may be quite as hard for some of us to bemade into the image of beauty and strength which the Master has set forus. It may require that we shall pass through experiences of loss, trial, temptation, and sorrow. Life's great lessons are very long, andcannot be learned in a day, nor can they be learned easily. But life, at whatever cost, is worth while. It is worth while for the gold topass through the fire to be made pure and clean. It is worth while forthe gem to endure the hard processes necessary to prepare it forshining in its dazzling splendor. It is worth while for a life tosubmit to whatever of severe discipline may be required to bring out init the likeness of the Master, and to fit it for noble doing andserving. Poets are said to learn in suffering what they teach in song. If only one line of noble, inspiring, uplifting song is sung into theworld's air, and started on a world-wide mission of blessing, no pricepaid for the privilege is too much to pay. David had to suffer a greatdeal to be able to write the Twenty-Third Psalm, but he does not nowthink that psalm cost him too much. William Canton writes:--

 "A man lived fifty years--joy dashed with tears; Loved, toiled; had wife and child, and lost them; died; And left of all his long life's work one little song. That lasted--naught beside. 

 Like the monk Felix's bird, that song was heard; Doubt prayed, Faith soared. Death smiled itself to sleep; That song saved souls. You say the man paid stiffly? Nay. God paid--and thought it cheap. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

JESUS AND THOMAS. 

 I have a life in Christ to live, I have a death in Christ to die; And must I wait till science give All doubts a full reply?

 Nay, rather while the sea of doubt Is raging wildly round about, Questioning of life and death and sin, Let me but creep within Thy fold, O Christ! and at thy feet Take but the lowest seat. PRINCIPAL SHAIRP. 

There is no record of the beginning of the friendship of Jesus andThomas. We do not know when Thomas became a disciple, nor what firstdrew him to Jesus. Did a friend bring him? Did he learn of the newrabbi through the fame of him that went everywhere, and then come tohim without solicitation? Did he hear him speak one day, and findhimself drawn to him by the power of his gracious words? Or did Jesusseek him out in his home or at his work, and call him to be a follower?

We do not know. The manner of his coming is veiled in obscurity. Thefirst mention of his name is in the list of the Twelve. As theapostles were chosen from the much larger company of those who werealready disciples, Thomas must have been a follower of Jesus before hewas an apostle. He and Jesus had been friends for some time, and thereis evidence that the friendship was a very close and tender one. Evenin the scant material available for the making up of the story, we findevidence in Thomas of strong loyalty and unwavering devotion, and inJesus of marvellous patience and gentleness toward his disciple. 

We have in the New Testament many wonderfully lifelike portraits. Occurring again and again, they are always easily recognizable. Inevery mention of Peter, for example, the man is indubitably the same. He is always active, speaking or acting; not always wisely, but inevery case characteristically, --impetuous, self-confident, rash, yetever warm-hearted. We would know him unmistakably in every incident inwhich he appears, even if his name were not given. John, too, wheneverwe see him, is always the same, --reverent, quiet, affectionate, trustful, the disciple of love. Andrew appears only a few times, butin each of these cases he is engaged in the same way, --bringing someone to Jesus. Mary of Bethany comes into the story on only threeoccasions; but always we see her in the same attitude, --at Jesus'feet, --while Martha is ever active in her serving. 

The character of Thomas also is sketched in a very striking way. Thereare but three incidents in which this apostle appears; but in all ofthese the portrait is the same, and is so clear that even Peter'scharacter is scarcely better known than that of Thomas. He alwayslooks at the dark side. We think of him as the doubter; but his doubtis not of the flippant kind which reveals lack of reverence, ofttimesignorance and lack of earnest thought; it is rather a constitutionaltendency to question, and to wait for proof which would satisfy thesenses, than a disposition to deny the facts of Christianity. Thomaswas ready to believe, glad to believe, when the proof was sufficient toconvince him. Then all the while he was ardently a true and devotedfriend of Jesus, attached to him, and ready to follow him even to death. 

The first incident in which Thomas appears is in connection with thedeath of Lazarus. Jesus had now gone beyond the Jordan with hisdisciples. The Jews had sought to kill him; and he escaped from theirhands, and went away for safety. When news of the sickness of Lazaruscame, Jesus waited two days, and then said to his disciples, "Let us gointo Judea again. " The disciples reminded him of the hatred of theJews, and of their recent attempts to kill him. They thought that heought not to venture back again into the danger, even for the sake ofcarrying comfort to the sorrowing Bethany household. Jesus answeredwith a little parable about one's security while walking during theday. The meaning of the parable was that he had not yet reached theend of his day, and therefore could safely continue the work which hadbeen given him to do. Every man doing God's will is immortal till thework is done. Jesus then announced to his disciples that Lazarus wasdead, and that he was going to waken him. 

It is at this point that Thomas appears. He said to hisfellow-disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him. " Helooked only at the dark side. He took it for granted that if Jesusreturned to Judea he would be killed. He forgot for the time thedivine power of Jesus, and the divine protection which sheltered himwhile he was doing the Father's will. He failed to understand thewords Jesus had just spoken about his security until the hours of hisday were finished. He remembered only the bitterness which the Jewshad shown toward Jesus, and their determination to destroy his life. He had no hope that if Jesus returned they would not carry out theirwicked purpose. There was no blue in the sky for him. He saw onlydarkness. 

Thomas represents a class of good people who are found in everycommunity. They see only the sad side of life. No stars shine throughtheir cypress-trees. In the time of danger they forget that there aredivine refuges into which they may flee and be safe. They know thepromises, and often quote them to others; but when trouble comes uponthem, all these words of God fade out of their minds. In sorrow theyfail to receive any true and substantial comfort from the Scriptures. Hope dies in their hearts when the shadows gather about them. Theyyield to discouragement, and the darkness blots out every star in theirsky. Whatever the trouble may be that comes into their life, they seethe trouble only, and fail to perceive the bright light in the cloud. 

This habit of mind adds much to life's hardness. Every burden isheavier because of the sad heart that beats under it. Every pain iskeener because of the dispiriting which it brings with it. Everysorrow is made darker by the hopelessness with which it is endured. Every care is magnified, and the sweetness of every pleasure islessened, by this pessimistic tendency. The beauty of the world loseshalf its charm in the eyes which see all things in the hue ofdespondent feeling. Slightest fears become terrors, and smallesttrials grow into great misfortunes. Our heart makes our world for us;and if the heart be without hope and cheer, the world is always dark. We find in life just what we have the capacity to find. One who iscolor-blind sees no loveliness in nature. One who has no music in hissoul hears no harmonies anywhere. When fear sits regnant on thethrone, life is full of alarms. 

On the other hand, if the heart be full of hope, every joy is doubled, and half of every trouble vanishes. There are sorrows, but they arecomforted. There are bitter cups, but the bitterness is sweetened. There are heavy burdens, but the songful spirit lightens them. Thereare dangers, but cheerful courage robs them of terror. All the worldis brighter when the light of hope shines within. 

But we have read only half the story of the fear of Thomas. He sawonly danger in the Master's return to Judea. "The Jews will kill him;he will go back to certain death, " he said. But Thomas would notforsake Jesus, though he was going straight to martyrdom. "Let us alsogo, that we may die with him. " Thus, mingled with his fear, was anoble and heroic love for Jesus. The hopelessness of Thomas as hethought of Jesus going to Bethany makes his devotion and his cleavingto him all the braver and nobler. He was sure it was a walk to death, but he faltered not in his loyalty. 

This is a noble spirit in Thomas, which we would do well to emulate. It is the true soldier spirit. Its devotion to Christ is absolute, andits following unconditional. It has only one motive, --love; and onerule, --obedience. It is not influenced by any question ofconsequences; but though it be to certain death, it hesitates not. This is the kind of discipleship which the Master demands. He wholoves father or mother more than him is not worthy of him. He whohates not his own life cannot be his disciple. A follower of Jesusmust be ready and willing to follow him to his cross. Thomas provedhis friendship for his Master by a noble heroism. It is the highesttest of courage to go forward unfalteringly in the way of duty when onesees only personal loss and sacrifice as the result. The soldier whotrembles, and whose face whitens from constitutional physical fear, andwho yet marches steadily into the battle, is braver far than thesoldier who without a tremor presses into the engagement. 

The second time at which Thomas appears is in the upper room, after theHoly Supper had been eaten. Jesus had spoken of the Father's house, and had said that he was going away to prepare a place for hisdisciples, and that then he would come again to receive them untohimself. Thomas could not understand the Master's meaning, and said, "Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?"He would not say he believed until he saw for himself. That is allthat his question in the upper room meant--he wished the Master to makethe great teaching a little plainer. It were well if more Christiansinsisted on finding the ground of their faith, the reasons why they areChristians. Their faith would then be stronger, and less easilyshaken. When trouble comes, or any testing, it would continue firm andunmoved, because it rests on the rock of divine truth. 

The last incident in the story of Thomas is after the resurrection. The first evening the apostles met in the upper room to talk over thestrange things which had occurred that day. For some reason Thomas wasnot at this meeting. We may infer that his melancholy temperament ledhim to absent himself. He had loved Jesus deeply, and his sorrow wasvery great. There had been rumors all day of Christ's resurrection, but Thomas put no confidence in these. Perhaps his despondentdisposition made him unsocial, and kept him from meeting with the otherapostles, even to weep with them. 

That evening Jesus entered through the closed doors, and stood in themidst of the disciples, and greeted them as he had done so oftenbefore, "Peace be unto you!" They told Thomas afterwards that they hadseen the Lord. But he refused to believe them; that is, he doubted thereality of what they thought they had seen. He said that they had beendeceived; and he asserted that he must not only see for himself, butmust have the opportunity of subjecting the evidence to the severesttest. He must see the print of the nails, and must also be permittedto put his finger into the place. 

It is instructive to think of what this doubting disposition of Thomascost him. First, it kept him from the meeting of the disciples thatevening, when all the others came together. He shut himself up withhis gloom and sadness. His grief was hopeless, and he would not seekcomfort. The consequence was, that when Jesus entered the room, andshowed himself to his friends, Thomas missed the revealing which gavethem such unspeakable gladness. From that hour their sorrow waschanged to joy; but for the whole of another week Thomas remained inthe darkness in which the crucifixion had infolded him. 

Doubt is always costly. It shuts out heavenly comfort. There are manyChristian people who, especially in the first shock of sorrow, have anexperience similar to that of Thomas. They shut themselves up withtheir grief, and refuse to accept the comfort of the gospel of Christ. They turn away their ears from the voices of love which speak to themout of the Bible, and will not receive the divine consolations. Thelight shines all about them; but they close doors and windows, and keepit from entering the darkened chamber where they sit. The music ofpeace floats on the air in sweet, entrancing strains, but no gentlenote finds its way to their hearts. 

Too many Christian mourners fail to find comfort in their sorrow. Theybelieve the great truths of Christianity, that Jesus died for them androse again; but their faith fails them for the time in the hour ofsorest distress. Meanwhile they walk in darkness as Thomas did. Onthe other hand, those who accept, and let into their hearts the greattruths of Christ's resurrection and the immortal life in Christ, feelthe pain of parting no less sorely, but they find abundant consolationin the hope of eternal life for those whom they have lost for a time. 

We have an illustration of the deep, tender, patient, and wisefriendship of Jesus for Thomas in the way he treated this doubt of hisapostle. He did not say that if Thomas could not believe the witnessof the apostles to his resurrection he must remain in the darknesswhich his unbelief had made for him. He treated his doubt withexceeding gentleness, as a skilful physician would deal with adangerous wound. He was in no haste. A full week passed before he didanything. During those days the sad heart had time to react, torecover something of its self-poise. Thomas still persisted in hisrefusal to believe, but when a week had gone he found his way with theothers to their meeting. Perhaps their belief in the Lord'sresurrection made such a change in them, so brightened and transformedthem, that Thomas grew less positive in his unbelief as he saw them dayafter day. At least he was ready now to be convinced. He wanted tobelieve. 

That night Jesus came again into the room, the doors being shut, andstanding in the midst of his friends, breathed again upon them hisbenediction of peace. Then he turned to Thomas; and holding out hishands, with the print of the nails in them, he asked him to put theevidences of his resurrection to the very tests he had said he mustmake before he could believe. Now Thomas was convinced. He did notmake the tests he had insisted that he must make. There was no needfor it. To look into the face of Jesus, to hear his voice, and to seethe prints of the nails in his hands, was evidence enough even forThomas. All his doubts were swept away. Falling at the Master's feet, he exclaimed, "My Lord and my God!"

Thus the gentleness of Jesus in dealing with his doubts saved Thomasfrom being an unbeliever. It is a great thing to have a wise andfaithful friend when one is passing through an experience of doubt. Many persons are only confirmed in their scepticism by the well-meantbut unwise efforts that are made to convince them of the truthconcerning which they doubt. It is not argument that they need, butthe patience of love, which waits in silence till the right time comesfor words, and which then speaks but little. Thomas was convinced, notby words, but by seeing the proofs of Christ's love in the prints ofthe nails. 

We may be glad now that Thomas was hard to convince of the truth ofChrist's resurrection. It makes the proofs more indubitable to us thatone even of the apostles refused at first to believe, and yet at lengthwas led into triumphant faith. If all the apostles had believedeasily, there would have been no comfort in the gospel for those whofind it hard to believe, and yet who sincerely want to believe. Thefact that one doubted, and even refused to accept the witness of hisfellow-apostles, and then at length was led into clear, strong faith, forever teaches that doubt is not hopeless. Ofttimes it may be but aprocess in the development of faith. 

The story of Thomas shows, too, that there may be honest doubt. Whilehe doubted, he yet loved; perhaps no other one of the apostles lovedJesus more than did Thomas. He never made any such bold confession asPeter did, but neither did he ever deny Christ. Thomas has been acomfort to many because he has shown them that they can be trueChristians, true lovers of Christ, and yet not be able to boast oftheir assurance of faith. 

No doubt faith is better than questioning, but there may be honestquestioning which yet is intensely loyal to Christ. Questioning, too, which is eager to find the truth and rest on the rock, may be betterthan easy believing, that takes no pains to know the reason of the hopeit cherishes, and lightly recites the noble articles of a creed it hasnever seriously studied. Tennyson, in "In Memoriam, " tells the storyof a faith that grew strong through its doubting. 

 You say, but with no touch of scorn, Sweet-hearted, you, whose light-blue eyes Are tender over drowning flies, You tell me, doubt is devil-born. 

 I know not: one indeed I knew In many a subtle question versed, Who touched a jarring lyre at first, But ever strove to make it true:

 Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds, At last he beat his music out. There lives more faith in honest doubt, Believe me, than in half the creeds. 

 He fought his doubts and gathered strength; He would not make his judgment blind, He faced the spectres of the mind And laid them: thus he came at length

 To find a stronger faith his own; And power was with him in the night, Which makes the darkness and the light, And dwells not in the light alone, But in the darkness and the cloud, As over Sinai's peaks of old, While Israel made their gods of gold, Although the trumpet blew so loud. 

That which saved Thomas was his deep, strong friendship for Christ. "The characteristic of Thomas, " says Ian Maclaren, "is not that hedoubted, --that were an easy passport to religion, --but that he doubtedand loved. His doubt was the measure of his love; his doubt wasswallowed up in love. " If friendship for Christ be loyal and true, weneed not look upon questioning as disloyalty; it may be but lovefinding the way up the rugged mountain-side to the sunlit summit of aglorious faith. There is a scepticism whose face is toward wintrinessand death; but there is a doubt which is looking toward the sun andtoward all blessedness. 

Thomas teaches us that one may look on the dark side and yet be aChristian, an ardent lover of Jesus, ready to die for him. But we mustadmit that this is not the best way to live. No one would say thatThomas was the ideal among the apostles, that his character was themost beautiful, his life the noblest and the best. Faith is betterthan doubt, and confidence better than questioning. It is better to bea sunny Christian, rejoicing, songful, happy, than a sad, gloomy, despondent Christian. It makes one's own life sweeter and morebeautiful. Then it makes others happier. A gloomy Christian castsdark shadows wherever he goes; a sunny Christian is a benediction toevery life he touches. 

CHAPTER IX. 

JESUS' UNREQUITED FRIENDSHIPS. 

 "Friend, my feet bleed. Open thy door to me and comfort me. " I will not open; trouble me no more. Go on thy way footsore; I will not rise and open unto thee. "Then it is nothing to thee? Open, see Who stands to plead with thee. Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou One day entreat my face And howl for grace, And I be deaf as thou art now. Open to me. " CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. 

There is a great deal of unrequited love in this world. There arehearts that love with all the strength of purest and holiest affection, whose love seems to meet no requital. There is much unrequitedmother-love and father-love. Parents live for their children. Inhelpless infancy they begin to pour out their affection on them. Theytoil for them, suffer for them, deny themselves to provide comforts forthem, bear their burdens, watch beside them when they are sick, prayfor them, and teach them. Parent-love is likest God's love of allearthly affections. It is one of the things in humanity which at itsbest seems to have come from the Fall almost unimpaired. Muchparent-love is worthily honored and fittingly requited. Few things inthis world are more beautiful than the devotion of children to parentswhich one sees in some homes. But not always is there such return. Too often is this almost divine love unrequited. 

Much philanthropic love also is unrequited. There are men who spendall their life in doing good, and then meet no return. Men have servedtheir country with loyalty and disinterestedness, and have received noreward--perhaps have been left to suffering, and have died in poverty, neglected and forgotten; too often have lain in prison, or been put todeath, or exiled by the country which was indebted to their patriotismand loyal service for much of its glory and greatness. Many heartsbreak because of men's ingratitude. 

Jesus was the world's greatest benefactor. No other man ever loved therace, or could have loved it, as he did. He was the divine messengerwho came to save the world. His whole life was a revealing of love. It was the love of God too, --a love of infinite depth and strength andtenderness, and not any merely human love, however rich and faithful itmight be, that was manifested in Jesus Christ. Yet much of hiswonderful love was unrequited. "He was in the world, and the world wasmade by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and hisown received him not. " A few individuals recognized him and acceptedhis love; but the great masses of the people paid him no heed, saw nobeauty in him, rejected the blessings he bore and proffered to all, andlet his love waste itself in unavailing yearnings and beseechings. Then one cruel day they nailed him on a cross, thinking to quench theaffection of his mighty heart. 

There are many illustrations of the unrequiting of the holy friendshipof Jesus. The treatment he received at Nazareth was one instance. Hehad been brought up among the people. They had seen his beautiful lifeduring the thirty years he had lived in the village. They had knownhim as a child when he played in their streets. They had known him asa youth and young man in his noble strength. They had known him as acarpenter when day after day he wrought among them in humble toil. 

It is interesting to think of the sinless life of Jesus all theseyears. There was no halo about his head but the shining of manlycharacter. There were no miracles wrought by his hands but themiracles of duty, faithful service, and gentle kindness. Yet we cannotdoubt that his life in Nazareth was one of rare grace and beauty, marked by perfect unselfishness and great helpfulness. 

By and by he went away from Nazareth to begin his public ministry asthe Messiah. From that time the people saw him no more. The carpentershop was closed, and the tools lay unused on the bench. The familiarform appeared no more on the streets. A year or more passed, and oneday he came back to visit his old neighbors. He stayed a little while, and on the Sabbath was at the village church as had been his wont whenhis home was at Nazareth. When the opportunity was given him, heunrolled the Book of Isaiah, and read the passage which tells of theanointing of the Messiah, and gives the wonderful outline of hisministry. When he had finished the reading, he told the people thatthis prophecy was now fulfilled in their ears. That is, he said thathe was the Messiah whose anointing and work the prophet had foretold. For a time the people listened spellbound to his gracious words, andthen they began to grow angry, that he whom they knew as the carpenterof their village should make such an astounding claim. They rose up inwrath, thrust him out of the synagogue, and would have hurled him overthe precipice had he not eluded them and gone on his way. 

He had come to them in love, bearing rich blessings; but they drove himaway with the blessings. He had come to heal their sick, to cure theirblind and lame, to cleanse their lepers, to comfort their sorrowingones; but he had to go away and leave these works of mercy unwrought, while the sufferers continued to bear their burdens. His friendshipfor his old neighbors was unrequited. 

Another instance of unrequited friendship in the life of Jesus was inthe case of the rich young man who came to him. He had many excellenttraits of character, and was also an earnest seeker after the truth. We are distinctly told that Jesus loved him. Thus he belongs withMartha and Mary and Lazarus, of whom the same was said. But here, again, the love was unrequited. The young man was deeply interested inJesus, and wanted to go with him; but he could not pay the price, andturned and went away. 

It is interesting to think what might have been the result if he hadchosen Christ and gone with him. He might have occupied an importantplace in the early church, and his name might have lived through allfuture generations. But he loved his money too much to give it up forChrist, and rejected the way of the cross marked out for him. Herefused the friendship of Jesus, and thus threw away all that was bestin life. In shutting love out of his heart, he shut himself out fromlove. 

Of all the examples of unrequited friendship in the story of Jesus, that of Judas is the saddest. We do not know the beginning of thestory of his discipleship, when Judas first came to Jesus, or whobrought him. But he must have been a follower some time before he waschosen to be an apostle. Jesus thought over the names of those who hadleft all to be with him. Then after a night of prayer he chose twelveof these to be his special messengers and witnesses. He loved themall, and took them into very close relations. 

Think what a privilege it was for these men to live with Jesus. Theyheard all his words. They saw every phase of his life. Some friendsit is better not to know too intimately. They are not as good inprivate as they are in public. Their life does not bear too closeinspection. We discover in them dispositions, habits, ways, tempers, feelings, motives, which dim the lustre we see in them at greaterdistance. Intimacy weakens the friendship. But, on the other hand, there are those who, the more we see of their private life, the more welove them. Close association reveals loveliness of character, finenessof spirit, richness of heart, sweetness of disposition--habits, feelings, tempers, noble self-denials, which add to the attractivenessof the life and the charm of our friend's personality. We may be surethat intimacy with Jesus only made him appear all the more winning andbeautiful to his friends. Judas lived in the warmth of this wondrouslove, under the influence of this gracious personality, month aftermonth. He witnessed the pure and holy life of Jesus in all itsmanifold phases, heard his words, and saw his works. Doubtless, too, in his individual relation with the Master, he received many marks ofaffection and personal friendship. 

A careful reading of the Gospels shows that Judas was frequently warnedof the very sin which in the end wrought his ruin. Continually Jesusspoke of the danger of covetousness. In the Sermon on the Mount heexhorted his disciples to lay up their treasure, not upon earth, but inheaven, and said that no one could serve God and mammon. It was justthis that Judas was trying to do. In more than one parable the dangerof riches was emphasized. Can we doubt that in all these reiterationsand warnings on the one subject, Judas was in the Master's mind? Hewas trying in the faithfulness of loyal friendship to save him from thesin which was imperilling his very life. 

But Judas resisted all the mighty love of Christ. It made noimpression upon him; he was unaffected by it. In his heart there grewon meanwhile, unchecked, unhindered, his terrible greed for money. First it made him a thief. The money given to Jesus by his friends toprovide for his wants, or to use for the poor, Judas, who was thetreasurer, began at length to purloin for himself. This was the firststep. The next was the selling of his Master for thirty pieces ofsilver. This was a more fearful fruit of his nourished greed than thepurloining was. It is bad enough to steal. It is a base form ofstealing which robs a church treasury as Judas did. But to take moneyas the price of betraying a friend--could any sin be baser? Could anycrime be blacker than that? To take money as the price of betraying afriend in whose confidence one has lived for years, at whose table onehas eaten day after day, in the blessing of whose friendship one hasrested for months and years--are there words black enough to paint theinfamy of such a deed?

All the participators in the crime of that Good Friday wear a peculiarbrand of infamy as they are portrayed on the pages of history; butamong them all, the most despicable, the one whose name bears thedeepest infamy, is Judas, an apostle turned traitor, for a fewmiserable coins betraying his best friend into the hands of malignantfoes. 

This is the outcome of the friendship of Jesus for Judas; this was thefruit of those years of affection, cherishing, patient teaching. Thinkwhat Judas might have been. He was chosen and called to be an apostle. There was no reason in the heart of Jesus why Judas might not have beentrue and worthy. Sin is not God's plan for any life. Treachery andinfamy were not in God's purpose for Judas. Jesus would not havechosen him for one of the Twelve if it had not been possible for him tobe a good and true man. Judas fell because he had never altogethersurrendered himself to Christ. He tried to serve God and mammon; butboth could not stay in his heart, and instead of driving out mammon, mammon drove out Christ. 

This suggests to us what a battlefield the human heart sometimes is--aWaterloo where destinies are settled. God or mammon--which? That isthe question every soul must answer. How goes the battle in your soul?Who is winning on your field--Christ or money? Christ or pleasure?Christ or sin? Christ or self? Judas lost the battle; the Devil won. 

A picture in Brussels represents Judas wandering about the night afterthe betrayal. By chance he comes upon the workmen who have beenpreparing the cross for Jesus. A fire burning close by throws itsweird light on the faces of the men who are now sleeping. The face ofJudas is somewhat in the shade; but one sees on it remorse and agony, as the traitor's eyes fall upon the cross and the tools which have beenused in making it, --the cross to which his treason had doomed hisfriend. But though suffering in the torments of a guilty conscience, he still tightly clutches his money-bag as he hurries on into thenight. The picture tells the story of the fruit of Judas's sin, --themoney-bag, with eighteen dollars and sixty cents in it, and even thatsoon to be cast away in the madness of despair. 

Unrequited friendship! Yes; and in shutting out that blessedfriendship, Judas shut out hope. Longfellow puts into his mouth thedespairing words:--

 "Lost, lost, forever lost! I have betrayed The innocent blood ... * * * Too late! too late! I shall not see him more Among the living. That sweet, patient face Will nevermore rebuke me, nor those lips Repeat the words, 'One of you shall betray me. '"

The great lesson from all this is the peril of rejecting the friendshipof Jesus Christ. In his friendship is the only way to salvation, theonly way of obtaining eternal life. He calls men to come to him, tofollow him, to be his friends; and thus alone can they come unto God, and be received into his family. 

There is something appalling in the revealing which this truthteaches, --the power each soul possesses of shutting out all the love ofGod, of resisting the infinite blessing of the friendship of Christ. It is possible for us to be near to Christ through all our life, withhis grace flowing about us like an ocean, and yet to have a heart thatremains unblessed by divine love. We may make God's love in vain, wasted, as sunshine is wasted that falls upon desert sands, so far aswe are concerned. The love that we do not requite with love, that doesnot get into our heart to warm, soften, and enrich it, and to mellowand bless our life, is love poured out in vain. It is made in vain byour unbelief. We may make even the dying of Jesus for us in vain, --awaste of precious life, so far as we are concerned. It is in vain forus that Jesus died if we do not let his love into our heart. 

Ofttimes the unrequiting of human love makes the heart bitter. Whenholy friendship has been despised, rejected, and cast away, when onehas loved, suffered, and sacrificed in vain, receiving only ingratitudeand wrong in return for love's most sacred gifts freely lavished, thedanger is that the heart may lose its sweetness, and grow cold, hard, and misanthropic. But not thus was the heart of Jesus affected by theunrequiting of his love and friendship. One Judas in the life of mostmen would have ended the whole career of generous kindness, drying upthe fountains of affection, thus robbing those who would come after ofthe wealth of tenderness which ought to have been theirs. But throughall the unrequiting and resisting of its love, the heart of Jesus stillremained gentle as a mother's, rich in its power to love, and sweet inits spirit. 

This is one of the great problems of true living, --how to keep theheart warm, gentle, compassionate, kind, full of affection's best andtruest helpfulness, even amid life's hardest experiences. We cannotlive and not at some time suffer wrong. We will meet injustice, however justly we ourselves may live. We will find a return ofingratitude many a time when we have done our best for others. Favorsrendered are too easily forgotten by many people. There are few of uswho do not remember helping others in time of great need and distress, only to lose their friendship in the end, perhaps, as a consequence ofour serving them in their need. Sometimes the only return for costlykindness is cruel unkindness. 

It is easy to allow such unrequiting, such ill treatment of love, toembitter the fountain of the heart's affection; but this would be tomiss the true end of living, which is to get good and not evil toourselves from every experience through which we pass. No ingratitude, injustice, or unworthiness in those to whom we try to do good, shouldever be allowed to turn love's sweetness into bitterness in us. Likefresh-water springs beside the sea, over which the brackish tide flows, but which when the bitter waters have receded are found sweet as ever, so should our hearts remain amid all experiences of love's unrequiting, ever sweet, thoughtful, unselfish, and generous. 

CHAPTER X. 

JESUS AND THE BETHANY SISTERS. 

 Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And he that brought him back is there. 

 Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. TENNYSON. 

The story of Jesus and the Bethany home is intensely interesting. Every thoughtful Christian has a feeling of gratitude in his heart whenhe remembers how much that home added to the comfort of the Master bymeans of the hospitality, the shelter, and the love it gave to him. One of the legends of Brittany tells us that on the day of Christ'scrucifixion, as he was on his way to his cross, a bird, pitying theweary sufferer bearing his heavy burden, flew down, and plucked awayone of the thorns that pierced his brow. As it did so, the bloodspurted out after the thorn, and splashed the breast of the bird. Eversince that day the bird has had a splash of red on its bosom, whence itis called robin-redbreast. Certainly the love of the Bethany home drewfrom the breast of Jesus many a thorn, and blessed his heart with manya joy. 

We have three glimpses within the doors of this home when the lovedguest was there. The first shows us the Master and his disciples oneday entering the village. It was Martha who received him. Martha wasthe mistress of the house. "She had a sister called Mary, " a youngersister. 

Then we have a picture as if some one had photographed the scene. Wesee Mary drawing up a low stool, and sitting down at the Master's feetto listen to his words. We see Martha hurrying about the house, busypreparing a meal for the visitors who had come in suddenly. This was aproper thing to do; it was needful that hospitality be shown. There isa word in the record, however, which tells us that Martha was notaltogether serene as she went about her work. "Martha was cumberedabout much serving. " A marginal reading gives, "was distracted. "

Perhaps there are many modern Christian housekeepers who would besomewhat cumbered, or distracted too, if thirteen hungry men dropped insuddenly some day, and they had to entertain them, preparing them ameal. Still, the lesson unmistakably is that Martha should not havebeen fretted; that she should have kept sweet amid all the pressure ofwork that so burdened her. 

It was not quite right for her to show her impatience with Mary as shedid. Coming into the room, flushed and excited, and seeing Marysitting quietly and unconcernedly at the Rabbi's feet, drinking in hiswords, she appealed to Jesus, "Lord, dost thou not care that my sisterdid leave me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. "

I am not sure that Martha was wrong or unreasonable in thinking thatMary should have helped her. Jesus did not say she was wrong; he onlyreminded Martha that she ought not to let things fret and vex her. "Martha, Martha, thou art anxious and troubled about many things. " Itwas not her serving that he reproved, but the fret that she allowed tocreep into her heart. 

The lesson is, that however heavy our burdens may be, however hurriedor pressed we may be, we should always keep the peace of Christ in ourheart. This is one of the problems of Christian living, --not to livewithout cares, which is impossible, but to keep quiet and sweet in themidst of the most cumbering care. 

At the second mention of the Bethany home there is sore distress in it. A beloved one is very sick, sick unto death. Few homes are entirestrangers to the experience of those days when the sufferer lay in theburning fever. Love ministered and prayed and waited. Jesus was faraway, but word was sent to him. He came at length, but seemed to havecome too late. "If thou hadst been here!" the sisters said, eachseparately, when they met the Master. But we see now the finishedprovidence, not the mere fragment of it which the sisters saw; and weknow he came at the right time. He comforted the mourners, and then heblotted out the sorrow, bringing back joy to the home. [1]

The third picture of this home shows us a festal scene. A dinner wasgiven in honor of Jesus. It was only a few days before his death. Here, again, the sisters appear, each true to her own character. Martha is serving, as she always is; and again Mary is at Jesus' feet. This time she is showing her wonderful love for the friend who has doneso much for her. The ointment she pours upon him is an emblem of herheart's pure affection. 

Mary's act was very beautiful. Love was the motive. Without love noservice, however great or costly, is of any value in heaven's sight. The world may applaud, but angels turn away with indifference when loveis lacking. "If I bestow all my goods to feed the poor ... But havenot love, it profiteth me nothing. " But love makes the smallest deedradiant as angel ministry. We need not try doing things for Christuntil we love him. It would be like putting rootless rods in agarden-bed, expecting them to grow into blossoming plants. Love mustbe the root. It was easy for Mary to bring her alabaster box, for herheart was full of overmastering love. 

Service is the fruit of love. It is not all of its fruit. Characteris part too. If we love Christ, we will have Christ's beauty in oursoul. Mary grew wondrously gentle and lovely as Christ's words enteredher heart. Friendship with Christ makes us like Christ. But therewill be service too. Love is like light, it cannot be hid. It cannotbe shut up in the heart. It will not be imprisoned and restrained. Itwill live and speak and act. Love in the heart of Jesus brought himfrom heaven down to earth to be the lost world's Redeemer. Love in hisapostles took them to the ends of the earth to tell the gospel story tothe perishing. 

It is not enough to try to hew and fashion a character into the beautyof holiness, until every feature of the image of Christ shines in thelife, as the sculptor shapes the marble into the form of his vision. The most radiant spiritual beauty does not make one a completeChristian. It takes service to fill up the measure of the stature ofChrist. The young man said he had kept all the commandments from hisyouth. "One thing thou lackest, " said the Master; "sell all that thouhast, and give to the poor. " Service of love was needed to make thatmorally exemplary life complete. 

The lesson is needed by many Christian people. They are good, withblameless life, flawless character, consistent conduct; but they lackone thing, --service. Love for Christ should always serve. There is astory of a friar who was eager to win the favor of God, and set to workto illuminate the pages of the Apocalypse, after the custom of histime. He became so absorbed in his delightful occupation that heneglected the poor and the sick who were suffering and dying in theplague. He came at last, in the course of his work, to the painting ofthe face of his Lord in the glory of his second coming; but his handhad lost its skill. He wondered why it was, and realized that it wasbecause, in his eagerness to paint his pictures, he had neglected hisduty of serving. 

Rebuffed and humiliated by the discovery, the friar drew his cowl overhis head, laid aside his brushes, and went down among the sick anddying to minister to their needs. He wrought on, untiringly, until hehimself was smitten with the fatal plague. Then he tottered back tohis cell and to his easel, to finish his loved work before he died. Heknelt in prayer to ask help, when, lo! he saw that an angel's hand hadcompleted the picture of the glorified Lord, and in a manner farsurpassing human skill. 

It is only a legend, but its lesson is well worthy our serious thought. Too many people in their life as Christians, while they strive to excelin character, in conduct, and in the beautiful graces of disposition, and to do their work among men faithfully, are forgetting meanwhile thelaw of love which bids every follower of Christ go about doing good asthe Master did. To be a Christian is far more than to be honest, truthful, sober, industrious, and decorous; it is also to be across-bearer after Jesus; to love men, and to serve them. Ofttimes itis to leave your fine room, your favorite work, your delightfulcompanionship, your pet self-indulgence, and to go out among the needy, the suffering, the sinning, to try to do them good. The monk could notpaint the face of the Lord while he was neglecting those who needed hisministrations and went unhelped because he came not. Nor can anyChristian paint the face of the Master in its full beauty on his soulwhile he is neglecting any service of love. 

We may follow a little the story of what happened after Mary broughther alabaster box. Some of the disciples of Jesus were angry. Therealways are some who find fault with the way other people show theirlove for Christ. It is so even in Christian churches. One membercriticises what another does, or the way he does it. It will beremembered that it was Judas who began this blaming of Mary. He saidthe ointment would better have been sold, and the proceeds given to thepoor. St. John tells us very sadly the real motive of this piouscomplaining; not that Judas cared for the poor, but that he was athief, and purloined the money given for the poor. 

Jesus came to Mary's defence very promptly, and in a way that must havewonderfully comforted her hurt heart. It is a grievous sin againstanother to find fault with any sweet, beautiful serving of Jesus whichthe other may have done. Christ's defence and approval of Mary shouldbe a comfort to all who find their deeds of love criticised or blamedby others. 

"Let her alone; why trouble ye her? she hath wrought a good work onme. " The disciples had said it was a waste. That is what some personssay about much that is done for Christ. The life is wasted, they say, which is poured out in self-denials and sacrifices to bless others. But really the wasted lives are those which are devoted to pleasure andsin. Those who live a merely worldly life are wasting what it took thedying of Jesus to redeem. Oh, how pitiful much of fashionable, worldlylife must appear to the angels!

"She hath done what she could. " That was high praise. She had broughther best to her Lord. Perhaps some of us make too much of our littleacts and trivial sacrifices. Little things are acceptable if they arereally our best. But Mary's deed was not a small one. The ointmentshe brought was very costly. She did not use just a little of thisprecious nard, but poured it all out on the head and feet of Jesus. "What she could" was the best she had to give. 

We may take a lesson. Do we always give our best to Christ? He gavehis best for us, and is ever giving his best to us. Do we not toooften give him only what is left after we have served ourselves? Thenwe try to soothe an uneasy conscience by quoting the Master'scommendation of Mary, "She hath done what she could. " Ah, Mary's "whatshe could" was a most costly service. It was the costliest of all herpossessions that she gave. The word of Jesus about her and her gifthas no possible comfort for us if our little is not our best. Thewidow's mites were her best, small though the money value was--she gaveall she had. The poor woman's cup of cold water was all she couldgive. But if we give only a trifle out of our abundance, we are notdoing what we could. 

It is worthy of notice that the alabaster box itself was broken in thisholy service. Nothing was kept back. Broken things have an importantplace in the Bible. Gideon's pitchers were broken as his men revealedthemselves to the enemy. Paul and his companions escaped from the seaon broken pieces of the ship. It is the broken heart that God accepts. The body of Jesus was broken that it might become bread of life for theworld. Out of sorrow's broken things God builds up radiant beauty. Broken earthly hopes become ofttimes the beginnings of richest heavenlyblessings. We do not get the best out of anything until it is broken. 

 "They tell me I must bruise The rose's leaf Ere I can keep and use Its fragrance brief. 

 They tell me I must break The skylark's heart Ere her cage song will make The silence start. 

 They tell me love must bleed, And friendship weep, Ere in my deepest need I touch that deep. 

 Must it be always so With precious things? Must they be bruised, and go With beaten wings?

 Ah, yes! By crushing days, By caging nights, by scar Of thorns and stony ways, These blessings are. "

Even sorrow is not too great a price to pay for the blessings which cancome only through grief and pain. We must not be afraid to be brokenif that is God's will; that is the way God would make us vessels meetfor his service. Only by breaking the alabaster vase can the ointmentthat is in it give out its rich perfume. 

"She hath anointed my body aforehand for the burying. " I like the wordaforehand. Nicodemus, after Jesus was dead, brought a large quantityof spices and ointments to put about his body when it was laid to restin the tomb. That was well; it was a beautiful deed. It honored theMaster. We never can cease to be grateful to Nicodemus, whoselong-time shy love at last found such noble expression, in helping togive fitting burial to him whom we love so deeply. But Mary's deed wasbetter; she brought her perfume aforehand, when it could give pleasure, comfort, and strengthening, to the Master in his time of deepestsorrow. We know that his heart was gladdened by the act of love. Itmade his spirit a little stronger for the events of that last sad week. "She hath wrought a good work on me. "

We should get a lesson in friendship's ministry. Too many wait untilthose they love are dead, and then bring their alabaster boxes ofaffection and break them. They keep silent about their love when wordswould mean so much, would give such cheer, encouragement, and hope, andthen, when the friend lies in the coffin, their lips are unsealed, andspeak out their glowing tribute on ears that heed not the laggardpraise. 

Many persons go through life, struggling bravely with difficulty, temptation, and hardship, carrying burdens too heavy for them, pouringout their love in unselfish serving of others, and yet are scarcelyever cheered by a word of approval or commendation, or by delicatetenderness of friendship; then, when they lie silent in death, a wholecircle of admiring friends gathers to do them honor. Every oneremembers a personal kindness received, a favor shown, some help given, and speaks of it in grateful words. Letters full of appreciation, commendation, and gratitude are written to sorrowing friends. Flowersare sent and piled about the coffin, enough to have strewn every hardpath of the long years of struggle. How surprised some good men andwomen would be, after lives with scarcely a word of affection to cheertheir hearts, were they to awake suddenly in the midst of theirfriends, a few hours after their death, and hear the testimonies thatare falling from every tongue, the appreciations, the grateful words oflove, the rememberings of kindness! They had never dreamed in lifethat they had so many friends, that so many had thought well of them, that they were helpful to so many. 

After a long and worthy life, given up to lowly ministry, a goodclergyman was called home. Soon after his death, there was a meetingof his friends, and many of them spoke of his beautiful life. Incidents were given showing how his labors had been blessed. Out offull hearts one after another gave grateful tribute of love. Theminister's widow was present; and when all the kindly words had beenspoken, she thanked the friends for what they had said. Then sheasked, amid her tears, "But why did you never tell him these thingswhile he was living?"

Yes, why not? He had wrought for forty years in a most unselfish way. He had poured out his life without stint. He had carried his people inhis heart by day and by night, never sparing himself in any way when hecould be of use to one of God's children. His people were devoted tohim, loved him, and appreciated his labors. Yet rarely, all thoseyears, had any of them told him of the love that was in their heartsfor him, or of their gratitude for service given or good received. Hewas conscious of the Master's approval, and this cheered him, --it wasthe commendation he sought; but it would have comforted him many atime, and made the burdens seem lighter and the toil easier and the joyof serving deeper, if his people--those he loved and lived for, andhelped in so many ways--had sometimes told him how much he was to them. 

All about us move, these common days, those who would be strengthenedand comforted by the good cheer which we could give. Let us notreserve all the flowers for coffin-lids. Let us not keep our alabasterboxes sealed and unbroken till our loved ones are dead. Let us showkindness when kindness will do good. It will make sorrow all theharder to bear if we have to say beside our dead, "I might havebrightened the way a little if only I had been kinder. "

It was wonderful honoring which Jesus gave to Mary's deed, when he saidthat wherever the gospel should be preached throughout the whole worldthe story of this anointing should be told. So, right in among thememorials of his own death, this ministry of love is enshrined. As theodor of the ointment filled all the room where the guests sat at table, so the aroma of Mary's love fills all the Christian world to-day. Theinfluence of her deed, with the Master's honoring of it, has shed abenediction on countless homes, making hearts gentler, and livessweeter and truer. 

[1] For a fuller treatment of this incident, see Chapter XI. 

CHAPTER XI. 

JESUS COMFORTING HIS FRIENDS. 

 Not all regret, the face will shine Upon me while I muse alone; And that dear voice, I once have known, Still speak to me of me and mine:

 Yet less of sorrow lives in me For days of happy commune dead; Less yearning for the friendship fled, Than some strong bond which is to be. TENNYSON. 

A gospel with no comfort for sorrow would not meet the deepest needs ofhuman hearts. If Jesus were a friend only for bright hours, therewould be much of experience into which he could not enter. But thegospel breathes comfort on every page; and Jesus is a friend for lonelyhours and times of grief and pain, as well as for sunny paths and daysof gladness and song. He went to a marriage feast, and wrought hisfirst miracle to prolong the festivity; but he went also to the home ofgrief, and turned its sorrow into joy. 

It is well worth our while to study Jesus as a comforter, to learn howhe comforted his friends. For one thing, it will teach us how to findconsolation when we are in trouble. This is a point at which, withmany Christians, the gospel seems oftenest to fail. In the days of theunbroken circle and of human gladness, the friends of Jesus rejoice inhis love, and walk in his light with songs; but when ties are broken, and grief enters the home, the hearts that were so full of praiserefuse to take the consolation of the gospel. This ought not so to be. If we knew Christ as a comforter, we would sing our songs of trust evenin the night. 

Another help that we may get from such a study of Jesus will be powerto become a true comforter of others. This every Christian should seekto be, but this very few Christians really are. Most of us wouldbetter stay away altogether from our friends in their times of sorrow, than go to them as we do. Instead of being comforters to make themstronger to endure, we only make their grief seem bitterer, and theirloss more unendurable, doing them harm instead of good. This isbecause we have not learned the art of giving comfort. Our Mastershould be our teacher; and if we study his method, we shall know how tobe a blessing to our friends in their times of loss and pain. 

Much of the ministry of Jesus was with those who were in trouble. There was one special occasion, however, when there was a great sorrowin the circle of his best friends. We may learn many lessons if weread over thoughtfully the story of the way Jesus comforted them. 

It was the Bethany home. Before the sorrow came, Jesus was a familiarguest, a close and intimate friend of the members of the household. Healways had kindly welcome and generous hospitality when he came totheir door. They did not make his acquaintance for the first time whentheir hearts were broken. They had known him for a long time, and hadlistened to his gracious words when there was no grief in their home. This made it easy to turn to him and to receive his comfort when thedark days of sorrow came. 

There are some who think of Christ only as a friend whom they will needin trouble. In their time of unbroken gladness they do not seek hisfriendship. Then, when trouble comes suddenly, they do not know how orwhere to find the Comforter. Wiser far are they who take Christ intotheir life in the glad days when the joy is unbroken. He blesses theirjoy. A happy home is all the happier because Jesus is a familiar guestin it. Love is all the sweeter because of his benediction. Then, whensorrow's shadow falls, there is light in the darkness. 

There seems to be no need of the stars in the daytime, for the sunshinethen floods all earth's paths. But when the sun goes down, and God'sgreat splendor of stars appears hanging over us, dropping their soft, quiet light upon us, how glad we are that they were there all thewhile, waiting to be revealed! So it is that the friendship of Jesusin the happy years hangs above our heads the stars of heavenly comfort. We do not seem to need them at the time, and we scarcely know that theyare there; we certainly have no true realization of the blessing thathides in the shining words. But when, one sad day, the light of humanjoy is suddenly darkened, then the divine comforts reveal themselves. We do not have to hasten here and there in pitiable distress, trying tofind consolation, for we have it already in the love and grace ofChrist. The Friend we took into our life in the joy-days stands closebeside us now in our sadness, and his friendship never before seemed soprecious, so tender, so divine. 

When Lazarus fell sick, Jesus was in another part of the country. Asthe case grew hopeless, the sisters sent a message to Jesus to say, "Hewhom thou lovest is sick. " The message seems remarkable. There was nourgency expressed in it, no wild, passionate pleading that Jesus wouldhasten to come. Its few words told of the quietness and confidence oftrusting hearts. We get a lesson concerning the way we should praywhen we are in distress. "Your Father knoweth what things ye have needof, " and there is no need for piteous clamor. Far better is the prayerof faith, which lays the burden upon the divine heart, and leaves itthere without anxiety. It is enough, when a beloved one is lying low, to say, "Lord, he whom thou lovest is sick. "

We are surprised, as we read the narrative, that Jesus did not respondimmediately to this message from his friends. But he waited two daysbefore he set out for Bethany. We cannot tell why he did this, butthere is something very comforting in the words that tell us of thedelay. "Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. When, therefore, he heard that Lazarus was sick, he abode at that time twodays in the place where he was. " In some way the delay was because ofhis love for all the household. Perhaps the meaning is that throughthe dying of Lazarus blessing would come to them all. 

At length he reached Bethany. Lazarus had been dead four days. Thefamily had many friends; and their house was filled with those who hadcome, after the custom of the times, to console them. Jesus lingeredat some distance from the house, perhaps not caring to enter amongthose who in the conventional way were mourning with the family. Hewished to meet the sorrowing sisters in a quiet place alone. So hetarried outside the village, probably sending a message to Martha, telling her that he was coming. Soon Martha met him. 

We may think of the eagerness of her heart to get into his presencewhen she heard that he was near. What a relief it must have been toher, after the noisy grief that filled her home, to get into the quiet, peaceful presence of Jesus! He was not disturbed. His face was fullof sympathy, and it was easy to see there the tokens of deep and veryreal grief, but his peace was not broken. He was calm and composed. Martha must have felt herself at once comforted by his mere presence. It was quieting and reassuring. 

The first thing to do when we need comfort is to get into the presenceof Christ. Human friendship means well when it hastens to us in oursorrow. It feels that it must do something for us, that to stay awayand do nothing would be unkindness. Then, when it comes, it feels thatit must talk, and must talk about our sorrow. It feels that it must goover all the details, questioning us until it seems as if our heartwould break with answering. Our friends think that they must explorewith us all the depths of our grief, dwelling upon the elements thatare specially poignant. The result of all this "comforting" is thatour burden of sorrow is made heavier instead of lighter, and we areless brave and strong than before to bear it. If we would be trulycomforted we would better flee away to Christ; for in his presence weshall find consolation, which gives peace and strength and joy. 

It is worth our while to note the comfort which Jesus gave to thesesorrowing sisters. First, he lifted the veil, and gave them a glimpseof what lies beyond death. "Thy brother shall rise again. " "I am theresurrection, and the life: he that believeth on me, though he die, yetshall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth on me shall neverdie. " Thus he opened a great window into the other world. It isplainer to us than it could be to Martha and Mary; for a little whileafter he spoke these words, Jesus himself passed through death, comingagain from the grave in immortal life. It is a wonderful comfort tothose who sorrow over the departure of a Christian friend to know thetrue teaching of the New Testament on the subject of dying. Death isnot the end; it is a door which leads into fulness of life. 

Perhaps many in bereavement, though believing the doctrine of a futureresurrection, fail to get present comfort from it. Jesus assuredMartha that her brother should rise again. "Yes, I know that he shallrise again in the resurrection at the last day. " Her words show thatthis hope was too distant to give her much comfort. Her sense ofpresent loss outweighed every other thought and feeling. She cravedback again the companionship she had lost. Who that has stood by thegrave of a precious friend has not experienced the same feeling ofinadequateness in the consolation that comes from even the strongestbelief in a far-off rising again of all who are in their graves?

The reply of Jesus to Martha's hungry heart-cry was very rich in itscomfort. "I am the resurrection. " This is one of the wonderfulpresent tenses of Christian hope. Martha had spoken of a resurrectionfar away. "I am the resurrection, " Jesus declared. It was somethingpresent, not remote. His words embrace the whole blessed truth ofimmortal life. "Whosoever liveth and believeth on me shall never die. "There is no death for those who are in Christ. The body dies, but theperson lives on. The resurrection may be in the future, but reallythere is no break in the life of a believer in Christ. He is not here;our eyes see him not, our ears hear not his voice, we cannot touch himwith our hands, but he still lives and thinks and feels and loves. Nopower in his being has been quenched by dying, no beauty dimmed, nofaculty destroyed. 

This is a part of the comfort which Jesus gave to his friends in theirbereavement. He assured them that there is no death, that all whobelieve in him have eternal life. There remains for those who stayhere the pain of separation and of loneliness, but for those who havepassed over we need have no fear. 

How does Jesus comfort his friends who are left? As we read over thestory of the sorrow of the Bethany home we find the answer to ourquestion. You say, "He brought back their dead, thus comforting themwith the literal undoing of the work of death and grief. If only hewould do this now, in every case where love cries to him, that would becomfort indeed. " But we must remember that the return of Lazarus tohis home was only a temporary restoration. He came back to the oldlife of mortality, of temptation, of sickness and pain and death. Hecame back only for a season. It was not a resurrection to immortallife; it was only a restoration to mortal life. He must pass againthrough the mystery of dying, and his sisters must a second timeexperience the agony of separation and loneliness. We can scarcelycall it comfort; it was merely a postponement for a little while of thefinal separation. 

But Jesus gave the sisters true consoling besides this. His merepresence brought them comfort. They knew that he loved them. Manytimes before when he had entered their home he had brought abenediction. They had a feeling of security and peace in his presence. Even their inconsolable grief lost something of its poignancy when thelight of his face fell upon them. Every strong, tender, and true humanlove has a wondrous comforting power. We can pass through a sore trialif a trusted friend is beside us. The believer can endure any sorrowif Jesus is with him. 

Another element of comfort for these sorrowing sisters was in thesympathy of Jesus. He showed this sympathy with them in coming all theway from Perea, to be with them in their time of distress. He showedit in his bearing toward them and his conversation with them. There isa wonderful gentleness in his manner as he receives first one and thenthe other sister. Mary's grief was deeper than Martha's; and whenJesus saw her weeping, and her friends who were with her weeping, hegroaned in the spirit and was troubled. Then, in the shortest verse inthe Bible, we have a window into the very heart of Christ, and findthere most wonderful sympathy. 

"Jesus wept. " It is a great comfort in time of sorrow to have evenhuman sympathy, to know that somebody cares, that some one feels withus. The measure of the comfort in such cases is in proportion to thehonor in which we hold the person. It would have had something--verymuch--of comfort for the sisters, if John or Peter or James had weptwith them beside their brother's grave. But the tears of Jesus meantincalculably more; they told of the holiest sympathy that this worldever saw--the Son of God wept with two sisters in a great human sorrow. 

This shortest verse was not written merely as a fragment of anarrative--it contains a revealing of the heart of Jesus for all time. Wherever a friend of Jesus is sorrowing, One stands by, unseen, whoshares the grief, whose heart feels every pang of the sorrow. There isimmeasurable comfort in this thought that the Son of God suffers withus in our suffering, is afflicted in all our affliction. We can endureour trouble more quietly when we know that God understands all about it. 

There is yet another thing in the manner of Christ's comforting hisfriends which is very suggestive. His sympathy was not a meresentiment. Too often human sympathy is nothing but a sentiment. Ourfriends cry with us, and then pass by on the other side. They tell usthey are sorry for us, but they do nothing to help us. The sympathy ofJesus at Bethany was very practical. Not only did he show his love tohis friends by coming away from his work in another province, to bewith them in their sore trouble; not only did he speak to them words ofdivine comfort, words which have made a shining track through the worldever since; not only did he weep with them in their grief, --but hewrought the greatest of all his many miracles to restore the joy oftheir hearts and their home. It was a costly miracle, too, for it ledto his own death. 

Yet, knowing well what would come from this ministry of friendship, hehesitated not. For some reason he saw that it would be indeed ablessing to his friends to bring back the dead. It was because heloved the sisters and the brother that he lingered, and did not hastenwhen the message reached him beyond the river. We may be sure, therefore, that the raising of Lazarus, though only to a little more ofthe old life of weakness, had a blessing in it for the family. Thiswas the best way in which Jesus could show his sympathy, the bestcomfort he could give his friends. 

No doubt thousands of other friends of Jesus in the sorrow ofbereavement have wished that he would comfort them in like way, bygiving back their beloved. Ofttimes he does what is in effect thesame, --in answer to the prayer of faith he spares the lives of thosewho are dear. When we pray for our sick friends, we only asksubmissively that they may recover. "Not my will, but thine be done, "is the refrain of our pleading. Even our most passionate longing wesubdue in the quiet confidence of our faith. If it is not best for ourdear ones; if it would not be a real blessing; if it is not God'sway, --then "Thy will be done. " If we pray the prayer of faith, we mustbelieve that the issue, whatever it may be, is God's best for us. 

If our friend is taken away after such committing of faith to God'swisdom and love, there is immeasurable comfort at once in theconfidence that it was God's will. Then, while no miracle is wrought, bringing back our dead, the sympathy of Christ yet brings practicalconsolation. The word comfort means strengthening. We are helped tobear our sorrow. 

The teaching of the Scriptures is that when we come with our trials toGod, he either relieves us of them, or gives us the grace we need toendure them. He does not promise to lift away the burden that we castupon him, but he will sustain us in our bearing of the burden. Whenthe human presence is taken from us, Christ comes nearer than before, and reveals to us more of his love and grace. 

The problem of sorrow in a Christian life is a very serious one. It isimportant that we have a clear understanding upon the subject, that wemay receive blessing and not hurt from our experience. Every sorrowthat comes into our life brings us something good from God; but we mayreject the good, and if we do, we receive evil instead. The comfortGod gives is not the taking away of the trouble, nor is it the dullingof our heart's sensibilities so that we shall not feel the pain sokeenly. God's comfort is strength to endure in the experience. If weput our life into the hands of Christ in the time of sorrow, and withquiet faith and sweet trust go on with our duty, all shall be well. Ifwe resist and struggle and rebel, we shall not only miss the blessingof comfort that is infolded for us in our sorrow, but we shall receivehurt in our own life. When one is soured and embittered by trial, onehas received hurt rather than blessing; but if we accept our sorrowwith love and trust, we shall come out of it enriched in life andcharacter, and prepared for better work and greater usefulness. 

There is a picture of a woman sitting by the sea in deep grief. Thedark waters have swallowed up her heart's treasures, and her sorrow isinconsolable. Close behind her is an angel striking his harp, --theAngel of Consolation. But the woman in her stony grief sees not theangel's shining form, nor hears the music of his harp. Too often thisis the picture in Christian homes. With all the boundlessness of God'slove and mercy, the heart remains uncomforted. 

This ought not so to be. There is in Jesus Christ an infinite resourceof consolation, and we have only to open our heart to receive it. Thenwe shall pass through sorrow sustained by divine help and love, andshall come from it enriched in character, and blessed in every phase oflife. The griefs of our life set lessons for us to learn. In everypain is the seed of a blessing. In every tear a rainbow hides. Dr. Babcock puts it well in his lines:--

 The dark-brown mould's upturned By the sharp-pointed plough-- And I've a lesson learned. 

 My life is but a field, Stretched out beneath God's sky, Some harvest rich to yield. 

 Where grows the golden grain? Where faith? Where sympathy? In a furrow cut by pain. 

CHAPTER XII. 

JESUS AND HIS SECRET FRIENDS. 

 How many souls--his loved ones-- Dwell lonely and apart, Hiding from all but One above The fragrance of their heart. PROCTER. 

Not all the friends of Jesus were open friends. No doubt many believedon him who had not the courage to confess him. Two of his secretfriends performed such an important part at the close of his life, boldly honoring him, that the story of their discipleship is worthy ofour careful study. 

One of these is mentioned several times; the other we meet nowhereuntil he suddenly emerges from the shadows of his secret friendship, when the body of Jesus hung dead on the cross, and boldly asks leave totake it away, and with due honor bury it. 

Several facts concerning Joseph are given in the Gospels. He was arich man. Thus an ancient prophecy was fulfilled. According toIsaiah, the Messiah was to make his grave with the rich. Thisprediction seemed very unlikely of fulfilment when Jesus hung on thecross dying. He had no burying-place of his own, and none of his knowndisciples could provide him with a tomb among the rich. It looked asif his body must be cast into the Potter's Field with the bodies of thetwo criminals who hung beside him. Then came Joseph, a rich man, andburied Jesus in his own new tomb. "He made his grave with the rich. "

Joseph was a member of the Sanhedrin. This gave him honor among men, and he must have been of good reputation to be chosen to so exalted aposition. We are told also that he was a good man and devout, and hadnot consented to the counsel and deed of the court in condemning Jesus. Perhaps he had absented himself from the meeting of the Sanhedrin whenJesus was before the court. If he were present, he took no part in thecondemning of the prisoner. 

Then it is said further that he was "a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, for fear of the Jews. " That is, he was one of the friends of Jesus, believing in his Messiahship. We have no way of knowing how long hehad been a disciple, but it is evident that the friendship had existedfor some time. We may suppose that Joseph had sought Jesus quietly, perhaps by night, receiving instruction from him, communing with him, drinking in his spirit; but he had never yet openly declared hisdiscipleship. 

The reason for this hiding of his belief in Jesus is franklygiven, --"for fear of the Jews. " He lacked courage to confess himself"one of this man's friends. " We cannot well understand what it wouldhave cost Joseph, in his high place as a ruler, to say, "I believe thatJesus of Nazareth is our Messiah. " It is easy for us to condemn him aswanting in courage, but we must put ourselves back in his place when wethink of what he failed to do. This was before Jesus was glorified. He was a lowly man of sorrows. Many of the common people had followedhim; but it was chiefly to see his miracles, and to gather benefit forthemselves from his power. There was only a little band of truedisciples, and among these were none of the rulers and great men of thepeople. There is no evidence that one rabbi, one member of theSanhedrin, one priest, one aristocratic or cultured Jew, was among thefollowers of Jesus during his life. 

It would have taken sublime courage for one of these to confess Jesusas the Messiah, and the cost of such avowal would have beenincalculable. A number of years later, when Christianity had become anacknowledged power in the world, St. Paul tells us that he had tosuffer the loss of all things in becoming a Christian. For Joseph, amember of the highest court of the Jews, to have said to hisfellow-members in those days, before the death of Jesus, "I believe inthis Nazarene whom you are plotting to kill, and I am one of hisdisciples and friends, " would have taken a courage which too few menpossess. 

However, one need not apologize for Joseph. The record frankly admitshis fault, his weakness; for it is never a noble or a manly thing to beafraid of man or devil when duty is clear. Yet we are told distinctlythat he was really a disciple of Jesus; though it was secretly, andthough the reason for the secrecy was an unworthy one, --fear of theJews. Jesus had not refused his discipleship because of itsimpairment. He had not said to him, "Unless you rise up in your placein the court-room, and tell your associates that you believe in me, andare going to follow me, you cannot be my disciple, and I will not haveyou as my friend. " Evidently Jesus had accepted Joseph as a disciple, even in the shy way he had come to him; and it seems probable that aclose and deep friendship existed between the two men. Possibly it mayhave existed for many months; and no doubt Joseph had been a comfort toJesus in many ways before his death, although the world did not knowthat this noble and honorable councillor was his friend at all. 

The other secret friend of Jesus who assisted in his burial wasNicodemus. It was during the early weeks or months of our Lord'spublic ministry that he came to Jesus for the first time. It isspecially mentioned that he came by night. Nicodemus also was a man ofdistinction, --a member of the Sanhedrin and a Pharisee, belonging thusto the class highest in rank among his people. 

A great deal of blame has been charged against Nicodemus because hecame to Jesus by night, but again we must put ourselves back into hiscircumstances before we can judge intelligently and fairly of hisconduct. Very few persons believed in Jesus when Nicodemus firstsought him by night. Besides, may not night have been the best timefor a public and prominent man to see Jesus? His days werefilled--throngs were always about him, and there was little opportunitythen for earnest and satisfactory conversation. In the eveningNicodemus could sit down with Jesus for a long, quiet talk without fearof interruption. 

Then Nicodemus came first only as an inquirer. He was not then readyto be a disciple. "Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come fromGod, " was all he could say that first night. He did not concede Jesus'Messiahship. He knew him then only by what he had heard of hismiracles. He was not ready yet to declare that the son of thecarpenter was the Christ, the Son of God. When we remember the commonJewish expectations regarding the Messiah, and then the lowliness ofJesus and the high rank of Nicodemus, we may understand that itrequired courage and deep earnestness of soul for this "master inIsrael" to come at all to the peasant rabbi from Galilee as a seekerafter truth and light. It is scarcely surprising, therefore, that hecame by night. 

Then, at that time the teaching and work of Jesus were only beginning. There had been some miracles, and it is written that because of thesemany had believed in the name of Jesus. Already, however, there hadbeen a sharp conflict with the priests and rulers. Jesus had drivenout those who were profaning the temple by using it for purposes oftrade. This act had aroused intense bitterness against Jesus among theruling classes to which Nicodemus belonged. This made it speciallyhard for any one of the rulers to come among the friends of Jesus, orto show even the least sympathy with him. 

No doubt Nicodemus in some degree lacked the heroic quality. He wasnot a John Knox or a Martin Luther. Each time his name is mentioned heshows timidity, and a disposition to remain hidden. Even in the nobledeed of the day Jesus died, it is almost certain that Nicodemus wasinspired to his part by the greater courage of Joseph. 

Yet we must mark that Jesus said not one word to chide or blameNicodemus when he came by night. He accepted him as a disciple, and atonce began to teach him the great truths of his kingdom. We are nottold that the ruler came more than once; but we may suppose thatwhenever Jesus was in Jerusalem, Nicodemus sought him under the coverof the night, and sat at his feet as a learner. Doubtless Jesus and hewere friends all the three years that passed between that first nightwhen they talked of the new birth, and the day when this noblecouncillor assisted his fellow-member of the Sanhedrin in givinghonorable and loving burial to this Teacher come from God. 

Once we have a glimpse of Nicodemus in his place in the Sanhedrin. Jesus has returned to Jerusalem, and multitudes follow him to hear hiswords. Many believe on him. The Pharisees and priests are filled withenvy that this peasant from Galilee should have such tremendousinfluence among the people. They feel that the power is passing out oftheir hands, and that they must do something to silence the voice thepeople so love to hear. 

A meeting of the Great Council is called to decide what to do. Officers are sent to arrest Jesus, and bring him to the bar of thecourt. The officers find Jesus in the temple, in the midst of an eagerthrong, to whom he is speaking in his gracious, winning way. That wasthe day he said, "If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. "The officers listen as the wonderful words fall from his lips, andthey, too, become interested; their attention is enchained; they comeunder the same spell which holds all the multitude. They linger tillhis discourse is ended; and then, instead of arresting him, they goback without him, only giving to the judges as reason for not obeying, "Never man spake like this man. "

The members of the court were enraged at this failure of their effort. Even their own police officers had proved untrue. "Are ye alsodeceived or led astray?" they cry in anger. Then they ask, "Have anyof the rulers or of the Pharisees believed on him? But this multitudewhich knoweth not the law, are accursed. " They would have it that onlythe ignorant masses had been led away by this delusion; none of thegreat men, the wise men, had accepted this Nazarene as the Messiah. They did not suspect that at least one of their own number, possiblytwo, had been going by night to hear this young rabbi. 

It was a serious moment for Nicodemus. He sat there in the council, and saw the fury of his brother judges. In his heart he was a friendof Jesus. He believed that he was the Messiah. Loyalty to his friend, to the truth, and to his own conscience, demanded that he should castaway the veil he was wearing, and reveal his faith in Jesus. At leasthe must say some word on behalf of the innocent man whom hisfellow-members were determined to destroy. It was a testing-time forNicodemus, and sore was the struggle between timidity and a sense ofduty. The storm in the court-room was ready to burst; the council wasabout taking violent measures against Jesus. We know not what wouldhave happened if no voice had been lifted for fair trial beforecondemnation. But then Nicodemus arose, and in the midst of theterrible excitement spoke quietly and calmly his few words, --

"Doth our law judge a man, except it first hear from himself and knowwhat he doeth?"

It was only a plea for fairness and for justice; but it showed theworking of a heart that would be true to itself, in some measure atleast, in spite of its shyness and shrinking, and in spite of the perilof the hour. The question at first excited anger and contempt againstNicodemus himself; but it checked the gathering tides of violence, probably preventing a public outbreak. 

We may note progress in the friendship of this secret disciple. Duringthe two years since he first came to Jesus by night the seed droppedinto his heart that night had been growing silently. Nicodemus was notyet ready to come out boldly as a disciple of Jesus; but he provedhimself the friend of Jesus, even by the few words he spoke in thecouncil when it required firm courage to speak at all. "He who at thefirst could come to Jesus only by night, now stands by him in open day, and in the face of the most formidable opposition, before which thecourage of the strongest might have quailed. "

It is beautiful to see young Christians, as the days pass, growing moreand more confident and heroic in their confession of Christ. At firstthey are shy, retiring, timid, and disposed to shrink from publicrevealing of themselves. But if, as they receive more of the Spirit ofGod in their heart, they grow more courageous in speaking for Christand in showing their colors, they prove that they are true disciples, learners, growing in grace. 

The only other mention of Nicodemus is some months after the heroicword spoken in the council. What has been going on in his experience, meanwhile, we do not know. There is no evidence that he has yetdeclared himself a follower of Jesus. He is still a secret disciple. But the hidden life in his heart has still been growing. 

One day a terrible thing happened. Jesus was crucified. In theirfright and panic all his friends at first forsook him, some of them, however, gathering back, with broken hearts, and standing about hiscross. But never was there a more hopeless company of men in thisworld than the disciples of Jesus that Good Friday, when their Masterhung upon the cross. They did not understand the meaning of the crossas we do to-day, --they thought it meant defeat for all the hopes theyhad cherished. They stood round the cross in the despair of hopelessgrief. 

They were also powerless to do anything to show their love, or to honorthe body of their Friend. They were poor and unknown men, withoutinfluence. None of them had a grave in which the body could be laid. Nor had they power to get leave to take the body away; it required aname of influence to get this permission. Their love was equal toanything, but they were helpless. In the dishonor of that day all thefriends of Jesus shared. 

What could be done? Soon the three bodies on the crosses would betaken down by rude hands of heartless men, and cast into the Potter'sField in an indistinguishable heap. 

No; there is a friend at Pilate's door. He is a man of rank among theJews--a rich man too. He makes a strange request, --he asks leave totake the body of Jesus away for burial. Doubtless Pilate was surprisedthat a member of the court which had condemned Jesus should now desireto honor his body, but he granted the request; perhaps he was glad thusto end a case which had cost him so much trouble. Joseph took chargeof the burial of the body of Jesus. 

Then came another rich man and joined Joseph. "There came alsoNicodemus, he who at the first came to him by night, bringing a mixtureof myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pound weight. So they took thebody of Jesus, and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, as thecustom of the Jews is to bury. " It certainly is remarkable that thetwo men who thus met in honoring the body of Jesus had both been hissecret disciples, hidden friends, who until now had not had courage toavow their friendship and discipleship. 

No doubt there were many other secret friends of Jesus who during hislife did not publicly confess him. The great harvest of the day ofPentecost brought out many of these for the first time. No doubt therealways are many who love Christ, believe on him, and are following himin secret. They come to Jesus by night. They creep to his feet whenno eye is looking at them. They cannot brave the gaze of theirfellowmen. They are shy and timid. We may not say one harsh wordregarding such disciples. The Master said not one word implying blameof his secret disciples. 

Yet it cannot be doubted that secret discipleship is incomplete. It isnot just to Christ himself that we should receive the blessings of hislove and grace, and not speak of him to the world. We owe it to himwho gave himself for us to speak his name wherever we go, and to honorhim in every way. Secret discipleship does not fulfil love's duty tothe world. If we have found that which has blessed us richly, we oweit to others to tell them about it. To hide away in our own heart theknowledge of Christ is to rob those who do not know of him. It is theworst selfishness to be willing to be saved alone. Further, secretdiscipleship misses the fulness of blessing which comes to him whoconfesses Christ before men. It is he who believes with his heart andconfesses with his mouth, who has promise of salvation. Confession ishalf of faith. Secret discipleship is repressed, restrained, confined, and is therefore hampered, hindered, stunted discipleship. It nevercan grow into the best possible strength and richness of life. It isonly when one stands before the world in perfect freedom, with nothingto conceal, that one grows into the fullest, loveliest Christlikeness. To have the friendship of Christ, and to hide it from men is to loseits blessing out of our own heart. 

 "To lie by the river of life and see it run to waste, To eat of the tree of heaven while the nations go unfed, To taste the full salvation--the only one to taste-- To live while the rest are lost--oh, better by far be dead!

 For to share is the bliss of heaven, as it is the joy of earth; And the unshared bread lacks savor, and the wine unshared, lacks zest; And the joy of the soul redeemed would be little, little worth If, content with its own security, it could forget the rest. "

In the case of Nicodemus and Joseph, Jesus was very gentle withtimidity; but under the nurture of his gentleness timidity grew intonoble courage. Yet, beautiful as was their deed that day, who will notsay that it came too late for fullest honoring of the Master? It wouldhave been better if they had shown their friendship while he wasliving, to have cheered him by their love. Mary's ointment poured uponthe tired feet of Jesus before his death was better than the spices ofNicodemus piled about his body in the grave. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

JESUS' FAREWELL TO HIS FRIENDS. 

 "What meaneth it that we should weep More for our joys than for our fears, -- That we should sometimes smile at grief, And look at pleasure's show through tears?

 Alas! but homesick children we, Who would, but cannot, play the while We dream of nobler heritage, Our Father's house, our Father's smile. "

At last the end came. The end comes for every earthly friendship. Thesweetest life together of loved ones must have its last walk, its lasttalk, its last hand-clasp, when one goes, and the other stays. One ofevery two friends must stand by the other's grave, and drop tears allthe hotter because they are shed alone. 

The friendship of Jesus with his disciples was very sweet; it was thesweetest friendship this world ever knew, for never was there any otherheart with such capacity for loving and for kindling love as the heartof Jesus. But even this holy friendship in its earthly duration wasbut for a time. Jesus' hour came at last. To-morrow he was going backto his Father. 

Very tender was the farewell. The place chosen for it was the upperroom--almost certainly in the house of Mary, the mother of John Mark. So full is the narrative of the evangelists that we can follow itthrough its minutest details. In the afternoon two of the closestfriends of Jesus came quietly into the city from Bethany to find aroom, and prepare for the Passover. All was done with the utmostsecrecy. No inquiry was made for a room; but a man appeared at acertain point, bearing a pitcher of water, --a most unusualoccurrence, --and the messengers silently followed him, and thus wereled to the house in which was the guest-chamber which Jesus and hisfriends were to use. There the two disciples made the preparationsnecessary for the Passover. 

Toward the evening Jesus and the other apostles came, and found theirway to the upper room. First there was the Passover feast, observedafter the manner of the Jews. Then followed the institution of the newmemorial--the Lord's Supper. This brought the Master and his disciplestogether in very sacred closeness. Judas, the one discordant elementin the communion, had gone out, and all who remained were of one mindand one heart. Then began the real farewell. Jesus was going away, and he longed to be remembered. This was a wonderfully human desire. No one wishes to be forgotten. No thought could be sadder than thatone might not be remembered after he is gone, that in no heart his nameshall be cherished, that nowhere any memento of him shall be preserved. We all hope to live in the love of our friends long after our faceshave vanished from earth. The deeper and purer our love may have been, and the closer our friendship, the more do we long to keep our place inthe hearts of those we have loved. 

There are many ways in which men seek to keep their memory alive in theworld. Some build their own tomb: few things are more pathetic thansuch planning for earthly immortality. Some seek to do deeds whichwill live in history. Some embalm their names in books, hoping thus toperpetuate them. Love's enshrining is the best way. 

The institution of the Last Supper showed the craving of the heart ofJesus to be remembered. "Do not forget me when I am gone, " he said. That he might not be forgotten, he took bread and wine, and, breakingthe one and pouring out the other, he gave them to his friends asmementos of himself. He associated this farewell meal with the greatacts of his redeeming love. "This bread which I break, let it be theemblem of my body broken to be bread for the world. This wine which Iempty out, let it be the emblem of my blood which I give for you. "Whatever else the Lord's Supper may mean, it is first of all aremembrancer; it is the expression of the Master's desire to beremembered by his friends. It comes down to us--Christ's friends ofto-day--with the same heart-craving. "Remember me; do not forget me;think of my love for you. " Jesus' farewell was thus made wondrouslysacred; its memories have blessed the world ever since by their warmthand tenderness. No one can ever know the measure of the influence ofthat last night in the upper room upon the life of these nineteenChristian centuries. 

The Lord's Supper was not all of the Master's farewell. There werealso words spoken which have been bread and wine, the body and blood ofJesus, to believers ever since. To the eleven men gathered about thattable these words were inexpressibly precious. One of them, one wholeaned his head upon the Master's breast that night, remembered them inhis old age, and wrote them down, so that we can read them forourselves. 

It is impossible in a short chapter to study the whole of thiswonderful farewell address; only a few of its great features can begathered together. It began with an exhortation, a newcommandment, --"That ye love one another. " We cannot understand howreally new this commandment was when given to the Master's friends. The world had never before known such love as Jesus brought into itswintry atmosphere. He had lived out the divine love among men; now hisfriends were to continue that love. "As I have loved you, that ye alsolove one another. " Very imperfectly have the friends of the Masterlearned that love; yet wherever the gospel has gone, a wave oftenderness has rolled. 

Next was spoken a word of comfort whose music has been singing throughthe world ever since. "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe inGod, believe also in me. " Unless it be the Twenty-Third Psalm, noother passage in all the Bible has had such a ministry of comfort asthe first words of the fourteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel. Theytold the sorrowing disciples that their Master would not forget them, that his work for them would not be broken off by his death, that hewas only going away to prepare a place for them, and would come againto receive them unto himself, so that where he should be they might bealso. He assured them, too, that while he was going away, somethingbetter than his bodily presence would be given them instead, --anotherComforter would come, so that they should not be left orphans. 

Part of the Master's farewell words were answers to questions which hisfriends asked him, --a series of conversations with one and another. These men had their difficulties; and they brought these to Jesus, andhe explained them. First, Peter had a question. Jesus had spoken ofgoing away. Peter asked him, "Lord, whither goest thou?" Jesus toldhim that where he was going he could not follow him then, but he shouldfollow him by and by. Peter was recklessly bold, and he would not haveit said that there was any place he could not follow his Master. Hedeclared that he would even lay down his life for his sake. "Wilt thoulay down thy life for my sake?" answered the Master. "Wilt thou, indeed?" Then he foretold Peter's sad, humiliating fall--that, insteadof laying down his life for his Lord. 

After the words had been spoken about the Father's house and the comingagain of Jesus for his friends, Thomas had a question. Jesus had said, "Whither I go ye know, and the way ye know. " Thomas was slow in hisperceptions, and was given to questioning. He would take nothing forgranted. He would not believe until he could understand. "Lord, weknow not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?" We are gladThomas asked such a question, for it brought a wonderful answer. Jesushimself is the way and the truth and the life. That is, to know Christis to know all that we need to know about heaven and the way there; tohave Christ as Saviour, Friend, and Lord, is to be led by him throughthe darkest way--home. Not only is he the door or gate which opensinto the way, but he is the way. He is the guide in the way; he hasgone over it himself; everywhere we find his footprints. More thanthat; he is the very way itself, and the very truth about the way, andthe life which inspires us in the way. To be his friend is enough; weneed ask neither whither he has gone, nor the road; we need only abidein him. 

 "Thank God, thank God, the Man is found, Sure-footed, knowing well the ground. He knows the road, for this the way He travelled once, as on this day. He is our Messenger beside, He is our Door and Path and Guide. "

Then Philip had a question. He had heard the Master's reply to Thomas. Philip was slow and dull, loyal-hearted, a man of practicalcommon-sense, but without imagination, unable to understand anythingspiritual, anything but bare, cold, material facts. The words of Jesusabout knowing and seeing the Father caught his ear. That was just whathe wanted, --to see the Father. So in his dulness he said, "Lord, showus the Father, and it sufficeth us. " He was thinking of atheophany, --a glorious vision of God. Jesus was wondrously patientwith the dulness of his disciples; but this word pained him, for itshowed how little Philip had learned after all his three years ofdiscipleship. "Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thounot known me?" Then Jesus told him that he had been showing him theFather, the very thing Philip craved, all the while. 

Jesus went on with his gracious words for a little while, and wasspeaking of manifesting himself to his disciples, when he wasinterrupted by another question. This time it was Judas who spoke. "Not Iscariot, " St. John is careful to say, for the name of Iscariotwas now blotted with the blotch of treason. He had gone out into thenight, and was of the disciple family no more. Judas could notunderstand in what special and exclusive manner Jesus would manifesthimself to his own. Perhaps he expected some setting apart of Christ'sfollowers like that which had fenced off Israel from the other nations. But Jesus swept away his disciple's thought of any narrowmanifestation. There was only one condition--love. To every one wholoved him and obeyed his words he would reveal himself. Themanifesting would not be any theophany, as in the ancient Shekinah, butthe spiritual in-dwelling of God. 

After these questions of his disciples had all been answered, Jesuscontinued his farewell words. He left several bequests to his friends, distributing among them his possessions. We are apt to ask what he hadto leave. He had no houses or lands, no gold or silver. While he wason his cross the soldiers divided his clothes among themselves. Yetthere are real possessions besides money and estates. One may have wonthe honor of a noble name, and may bequeath this to his family when hegoes away. One may have acquired power which he may transmit. Itseemed that night in the upper room as if Jesus had neither name norpower to leave to his friends. To-morrow he was going to a cross, andthat would be the end of everything of hope or beauty in his life. 

Yet he quietly made his bequests, fully conscious that he had greatpossessions, which would bless the world infinitely more than if he hadleft any earthly treasure. One of these bequests was his peace. "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. " It was his ownpeace; if it had not been his own he could not have bequeathed it tohis friends. A man cannot give to others what he has not himself. Itwas his own because he had won it. Peace is not merely ease, theabsence of strife and struggle; it is something which lives in themidst of the fiercest strife and the sorest struggle. Jesus knew notthe world's peace, --ease and quiet; but he had learned a secret ofheart-quietness which the world at its worst could not disturb. Thispeace he left to his disciples, and it made them richer than if he hadgiven them all the world's wealth. 

Another of his possessions which he bequeathed was his joy. We thinkof Jesus as the Man of sorrows, and we ask what joy he had to give. Itseemed a strange time, too, for him to be speaking of his joy; for inanother hour he was in the midst of the Gethsemane anguish, andto-morrow he was on his cross. Yet in the upper room he had in hisheart a most blessed joy. Even in the terrible hours that cameafterwards, that joy was not quenched; for we are told that for the joyset before him he endured the cross, despising the shame. This joyalso he bequeathed to his friends. "These things have I spoken untoyou, that my joy may be in you. " We remember, too, that they reallyreceived this legacy. The world wondered at the strange secret of joythose men had when they went out into the world. They sang songs inthe darkest night. Their faces shone as with a holy inner light in thedeepest sorrow. Christ's joy was fulfilled in them. 

He also put within the reach of his friends, as he was about to leavethem, the whole of his own inheritance as the only begotten Son of God. He gave into their hands the key of heaven. He told them they shouldhave power to do the works which they had seen him do, and even greaterworks than these. He told them that whatsoever they should ask theFather in his name the Father would give to them. The whole power ofhis name should thus be theirs, and they might use it as they would. Nothing they might ask should be refused to them; all the heavenlykingdom was thrown open to them. 

These are mere suggestions of the farewell gifts which Jesus left tohis friends when he went away, --his peace, his joy, the key to all thetreasures of his kingdom. He had blessed them in wonderful ways duringhis life; but the best and richest things of his love were kept to thelast, and given only after he was gone. Indeed, the best things weregiven through his death, and could be given in no other way. Other menlive to do good; they hasten to finish their work before their sunsets. God's plan for them is something they must do before death comesto write "Finis" at the end of their days. But the plan of God forJesus centred in his death. It was the blessings that would comethrough his dying that were set forth in the elements used in the LastSupper, --the body broken, the blood shed. The great gifts to hisfriends, of which he spoke in his farewell words, would come throughhis dying. He must be lifted up in order to draw all men to him. Hemust shed his blood in order that remission of sins might be offered. It was expedient for him to go away in order that the Comforter mightcome. His peace and his joy were bequests which could be given onlywhen he had died as the world's Redeemer. His name would have power toopen heaven's treasures only when the atonement had been made, and theIntercessor was at God's right hand in heaven. 

There was one other act in this farewell of Jesus. After he had endedhis gracious words, he lifted up his eyes in prayer to his Father. Thepleading is full of deep and tender affection. It is like that of amother about to go away from earth, and who is commending her childrento the care of the heavenly Father, when she must leave them withoutmother-love and mother-shelter among unknown and dangerous enemies. 

Every word of the wonderful prayer throbs with love, and reveals aheart of most tender affection. While he had been with his friends, Jesus had kept them in the shelter of his own divine strength. None ofthem had been lost, so faithful had been his guardianship overthem--none but the son of perdition. He, too, had received faithfulcare; it had not been the Good Shepherd's fault that he had perished. He had been lost because he resisted the divine love, and would notaccept the divine will. There must have been a pang of anguish in theheart of Jesus as he spoke to his Father of the one who had perished. But the others all were safe. Jesus had guarded them through all thedangers up to the present moment. 

But now he is about to leave them. He knows that they must encountergreat dangers, and will not have him to protect them. The form of hisintercession for them is worthy of note. He does not ask that theyshould be taken out of the world. This would have seemed the way oftenderest love. But it is not the divine way to take us out of thebattle. These friends of Jesus had been trained to be his witnesses, to represent him when he had gone away. Therefore they must stay inthe world, whatever the dangers might be. The prayer was that theyshould be kept from the evil. There is but one evil. They were not tobe kept from persecution, from earthly suffering and loss, from pain orsorrow: these are not the evils from which men's lives need to beguarded. The only real evil is sin. Our danger in trouble oradversity is not that we may suffer, but that we may sin. The pleadingof Jesus was that his friends might not be hurt in their souls, intheir spiritual life, by sin. 

If enemies wrong or injure us, the peril is not that they may cause usto suffer injustice, but that in our suffering we may lose the love outof our heart, and grow angry, or become bitter. In time of sickness, trial, or bereavement, that which we should fear is not the illness orthe sorrow, but that we shall not keep sweet, with the peace of God inour breast. The only thing that can do us real harm is sin. So theintercession on our behalf ever is, not that we may be kept from thingsthat are hard, from experiences that are costly or painful, but that wemay be kept pure, gentle, and submissive, with peace and joy in ourheart. 

There was a pleading also that the disciples might be led into completeconsecration of spirit, and that they might be prepared to go out fortheir Master, to be to the world what he had been to them. This wasnot a prayer for a path of roses; rather it was for a cross, the utterdevotion of their lives to God. Before the prayer closed, a final wishfor his friends was expressed, --that when their work on earth was done, they might be received home; that where he should be they might bealso, to behold his glory. 

Surely there never has been on earth another gathering of suchwondrously deep and sacred meaning as that farewell meeting in theupper room. There the friendship of Jesus and his chosen ones reachedits holiest experience. His deep human love appears in his giving upthe whole of this last evening to this tryst with his own. He knewwhat was before him after midnight, --the bitter agony of Gethsemane, the betrayal, the arrest, the trial, and then the terrible shame andsuffering of tomorrow. But he planned so that there should be thesequiet, uninterrupted hours alone with his friends, before the beginningof the experiences of his passion. He did it for his own sake; hisheart hungered for communion with his friends; with desire he desiredto eat the Passover, and enjoy these hours with them before hesuffered. We may be sure, too, that he received from the holyfellowship comfort and strength, which helped him in passing throughthe bitter hours that followed. Then, he did it also for the sake ofhis disciples. He knew how their hearts would be broken with sorrowwhen he was taken from them, and he wished to comfort them and makethem stronger for the way. The memory of those holy hours hung overthem like a star in all the dark night of their sorrow, and was abenediction to them as long as they lived. 

Then, who can tell what blessings have gone out from that farewell intothe whole Church of Christ through all the centuries? It is the holyof holies of Christian history. The Lord's Supper, instituted thatnight, and which has never ceased to be observed as a memorial of theMaster's wonderful love and great sacrifice, has sweetened the worldwith its fragrant memories. The words spoken by the Master at thetable have been repeated from lip to heart wherever the story of thegospel has gone, and have given unspeakable comfort to millions ofhearts. The petitions of the great intercessory prayer have beenrising continually, like holy incense, ever since they were firstuttered, taking into their clasp each new generation of believers. This farewell has kept the Christian hearts of all the centuries warmand tender with love toward him who is the unchanging Friend the sameyesterday and to-day and forever. 

CHAPTER XIV

JESUS' FRIENDSHIPS AFTER HE AROSE. 

 "Our own are our own forever--God taketh not back his gift; They may pass beyond our vision, but our soul shall find them out When the waiting is all accomplished, and the deathly shadows lift, And the glory is given for grieving, and the surety of God for doubt. "

We cannot but ask questions about the after life. What is itscharacter? What shall be the relations there of those who in thepresent life have been united in friendship? What effect has dying onthe human affections? Does it dissolve the bonds which here have beenso strong? Or do friendships go on through death, interrupted for alittle time only, to be taken up again in the life beyond? Surely Godwill not blame us for our eagerness to know all we can learn about theworld to which we are going. 

True, we cannot learn much about this blessed life while we stay inthis world. Human eyes cannot penetrate into the deep mystery. We arelike men standing on the shore of a great sea, wondering what lies onthe other side. No one has come back to tell us what he found in thatfar country. We bring our questions to the word of God, but it availslittle; even inspiration does not give us explicit revealingsconcerning the life of the blessed. We know that the Son of God haddwelt forever in heaven before his incarnation, and we expect that hewill shed light upon the subject of life within the gates of heaven. But he is almost silent to our questions. Indeed, he seems to tell usreally nothing. He gives us no description of the place from which hecame, to which he returned, and to which he said his disciples shall begathered. He says nothing about the occupations of those who dwellthere. He satisfies no human yearnings to know the nature offriendship after death. We are likely to turn away from our quest fordefinite knowledge, feeling that even Jesus has told us nothing. Yethe has told us a great deal. 

There is one wonderful revelation of which perhaps too little has beenmade. After Jesus had died, and lain in the grave for three days, herose again, and remained for forty days upon the earth. During thattime he did not resume the old relations. He was not with hisdisciples as he had been during the three years of his public ministry, journeying with them, speaking to them, working miracles; yet he showedhimself to them a number of times. 

The remarkable thing in these appearances of Jesus during the fortydays is that we see in him one beyond death. Lazarus was brought backto earth after having died, but it was only the old life to which hereturned. The human relations between him and his sisters and friendswere restored, but probably they were not different from what they hadbeen in the past. Lazarus was the same mortal being as before, withhuman frailties and infirmities. 

Jesus, however, after his return from the grave, was a man beyonddeath. He was the same person who had lived and died, and yet he waschanged. He appeared and disappeared at will. He entered roomsthrough closed and barred doors. At last his body ascended from theearth, and passed up to heaven, subject no longer to the laws ofgravitation. We see in Jesus, therefore, during the forty days, onewho has passed into what we call the other life. What he was then hispeople will be when they have emerged from death with their spiritualbodies, for he was the first-fruits of them that are asleep. 

As we study Jesus in the story of those days, we are surprised to seehow little he was changed. Death had left no strange marks upon him. Nothing beautiful in his life had been lost in the grave. He came backfrom the shadows as human as he was before he entered the valley. Dying had robbed him of no human tenderness, no gentle grace ofdisposition, no charm of manner. As we watch him in his intercoursewith his disciples, we recognize the familiar traits which belonged tohis personality during the three years of his active ministry. 

We may rightly infer that in our new life we shall be as little changedas Jesus was. We shall lose our sin, our frailties and infirmities, all our blemishes and faults. The long-hindered and hampered powers ofour being shall be liberated. Hidden beauties shall shine out in ourcharacter, as developed pictures in the photographer's sensitizedplate. There will be great changes in us in these and other regards, but our personality will be the same. Jesus was easily recognized byhis friends; so shall we be by those who have known us. Whatever isbeautiful and good in us here, --the fruits of spiritual conquest, thelessons learned in earth's experiences, the impressions made upon us bythe Word of God, the silver and golden threads woven in our life-web bypure friendships, the effects of sorrow upon us, the work wrought in usby the Holy Spirit, --all this shall appear in our new life. We shallhave incorruptible, spiritual, and glorious bodies, no longer mortaland subject to the limitations of matter; death will rob us of nothingthat is worthy and true, and fit for the blessed life. 

 "We are quite sure That he will give them back-- Bright, pure, and beautiful. * * * He does not mean--though heaven be fair-- To change the spirits entering there That they forget The eyes upraised and wet, The lips too still for prayer, The mute despair. He will not take The spirits which he gave, and make The glorified so new That they are lost to me and you. * * * I do believe that just the same sweet face, But glorified, is waiting in the place Where we shall meet. * * * God never made Spirit for spirit, answering shade for shade, And placed them side by side-- So wrought in one, though separate, mystified, And meant to break The quivering threads between. "

It is interesting, too, to study the friendships of Jesus after he camefrom the grave. He did not take up again the public life of the daysbefore his death. He made no more journeys through the country. Hespoke no more to throngs in the temple courts or by the Seaside. He nomore went about healing, teaching, casting out demons, and raising thedead. He made no appearances in public. Only his disciples saw him. We have but few details of his intercourse with individuals, but suchglimpses as we have are exceedingly interesting. They show us that notender tie of friendship had been hurt by his experience of dying. Thelove of his heart lived on through death, and reappeared during theforty days in undiminished gentleness and kindness. He did not meethis old friends as strangers, but as one who had been away for a fewdays, and had come again. 

The first of his friends to whom he showed himself after he arose wasMary Magdalene. Her story is pathetic in its interest. The traditionsof the centuries have blotted her name, but there is not the slightestevidence in the New Testament that she was ever a woman of blemishedcharacter. There is no reason whatever for identifying her with thewoman that was a sinner, who came to Jesus in Simon's house. All thatis said of Mary's former condition is that she was possessed of sevendemons, and that Jesus freed her from this terrible bondage. Ingratitude for this unspeakable deliverance Mary followed Jesus, leavingher home, and going with him until the day of his death. She was oneof several women friends who accompanied him and ministered to him oftheir substance. 

Mary's devotion to Jesus was wonderful. When the tomb was closed shewas one of the watchers who lingered, loath to leave it. Then, at thedawn of the first day morning she was again one of those who hurriedthrough the darkness to the tomb, with spices for the anointing of thebody--last at his cross, and earliest at his tomb. Mary's devotion wasrewarded; for to her first of all his friends did Jesus appear, as shestood weeping by the empty grave. She did not recognize him at once. She was not expecting to see him risen. Then, her eyes were blindedwith her tears. But the moment he spoke her name, "Mary, " she knewhim, and answered, "Rabboni. " He was not changed to her. He had notforgotten her. The love in his heart had lost none of its tenderness. He was as accessible as ever. Dying had made him no less a friend, andno less sympathetic, than he was before he died. 

Soon after Mary had met Jesus, and rejoiced to find him her friend justas of old, he appeared to the other women of the company who hadfollowed him with their grateful ministries. They also knew him, andhe knew them; and their hearts suffered no wrench at the meeting, forthey found the same sweet friendship they thought they had lost, justas warm and tender as ever. 

That same day Jesus appeared to Peter. A veil is drawn by theevangelists over the circumstances of this meeting. The friendship ofJesus and Peter had continued for three years. He had often given hisMaster pain and trouble through his impulsive ways. But theculmination of it all came on the night of the betrayal, when, in thehall of the high priest's palace, Peter denied being a disciple ofJesus, denied even knowing him. While for the third time the base andcowardly words were on his lips, Jesus turned and looked upon hisfaithless disciple with a look of grieved love, and then Peterremembered the forewarning the Master had given him. His heart wasbroken with penitence, and he went out and wept bitterly. But he hadno opportunity to seek forgiveness; for the next morning Jesus was onhis cross, and in the evening was in his grave. Peter's sorrow wasvery deep, for his love for his Master was very strong. 

We can imagine that when the truth of the resurrection began to bebelieved that morning, Peter wondered how Jesus would receive him. Buthe was not long kept in suspense. The women who came first to thetomb, to find it empty, received a message for "the disciples _and_Peter. " This singling out of his name for special mention must havegiven unspeakable joy to Peter. It told him that the love of Jesus wasnot only stronger than death, but also stronger than sin. Then, sometime during the day, Jesus appeared to Peter alone. No doubt then, in the sacredness of love, the disciple made confession, and the Mastergranted forgiveness. Several times during the forty days Jesus andPeter met again. The friendship had not been marred by death. Therisen Lord loved just as he had loved in the days of common humanintercourse. 

One of the most interesting of the after resurrection incidents is thatof the walk to Emmaus. Cleophas and his friend were journeyinghomeward with sad hearts, when a stranger joined them. Hisconversation was wonderfully tender as he walked with them andexplained the Scriptures. Then followed the evening meal, and therevealing of the risen Jesus in the breaking of bread. Again it wasthe same sweet friendship which had so warmed their hearts in the past, resumed by the Master on the other side of death. 

It was the same with all the recorded appearances of Jesus. Those whohad been his friends previous to his death found him the same friend asbefore. He took up with each of them the threads of affection justwhere they had been dropped when the betrayal and arrest wrought suchpanic among his disciples, scattering them away, and went on with theweaving. 

May we not conclude that it will be with us even as it was with Jesus?His resurrection was not only a pledge of what that of believers willbe, carrying within itself the seed and potency of a blessedimmortality, but it was also a sample of what ours will be. Death willproduce far less change in us than we imagine it will do. We shall goon with living very much as if nothing had happened. Dying is anexperience we need not trouble ourselves about very much if we arebelievers in Christ. There is a mystery in it; but when we have passedthrough it we shall probably find that it is a very simple and naturalevent--perhaps little more serious than sleeping over night and wakingin the morning. It will not hurt us in any way. It will blot nolovely thing from our life. It will end nothing that is worth while. Death is only a process in life, a phase of development, analogous tothat which takes place when a seed is dropped in the earth and comes upa beautiful plant, adorned with foliage and blossoms. Life would beincomplete without dying. The greatest misfortune that could befallany one would be that he should not die. This would be an arresting ofdevelopment which would be death indeed. 

 "Death is the crown of life; Were death denied, poor man would live in vain; Were death denied, to live would not be life; Were death denied, e'en fools would wish to die. Death wounds to cure: we fall; we rise; we reign; Spring from our fetters; hasten to the skies, Where blooming Eden withers in our sight. Death gives us more than was in Eden lost; The king of terrors is the prince of peace. "

There is need for a reconstruction of the prevalent thoughts andconceptions of heaven. We have trained ourselves to think of lifebeyond the grave as something altogether different from what life is inthis world. It has always been pictured thus to us. We have beentaught that heaven is a place of rest, a place of fellowship with God, a place of ceaseless praise. The human element has been largely leftout of our usual conceptions of the blessed life. Not much is made ofthe relations of believers to one another. That which is emphasized inChristian hymns and in most books about heaven is the Godward side. Much is made of the glory of the place as suggested by the visions ofSt. John in the Apocalypse. In many of these conceptions the chiefthought of heavenly blessedness is that it is a release from earth andfrom earthly conditions. There is no sorrow, no trouble, no pain, nostruggle, no toil, in the home to which we are going. We shall sit onthe green banks of beautiful rivers, amid unfading flowers, and singforever. We shall lie prostrate before the throne, and gaze and gazeon the face of God. 

But this is not the kind of heaven and heavenly life which theteachings of Jesus Would lead us to imagine. True, he speaks of theplace to which he is going, and where, by and by, he would gather allhis disciples, as "my Father's house. " This suggests home and love;and the thought is in harmony with what we have seen in the life ofJesus during the forty days, --the continuance of the friendships formedand knit in earthly fellowships. But the vision of home life thussuggested need not imply a heaven of inaction. Indeed, no life couldbe more natural and beautiful than that which the thought of homesuggests. We have no perfect homes on earth; but every true home hasin it fragments of heaven's meaning, and always the idea is of love'sservice rather than of blissful indolence. 

We may get many thoughts of the heavenly life from other teachings ofJesus. Life is continuous. Whosoever liveth and believeth shall neverdie. There is no break, no interruption of life, in what we calldying. We think of eternal life as the life of heaven, the glorifiedlife. So it is; but we have its beginnings here. The moment webelieve, we have everlasting life. The Christian graces we areenjoined, to cultivate are heavenly lessons set for us to learn. If wewould conceive of the life of heaven, we have but to think of idealChristian life in this world, and then lift it up to its perfectrealization. Heaven is but earth's lessons of grace better learned, earth's best spiritual life glorified. Therefore we get our truestthoughts of it from a study of Christ's ideal for the life of hisfollowers, for it will simply be this life fully realized andinfinitely extended. 

For example, the one great lesson set for us, the one which includesall others, is love. God is love, and we are to learn to love if wewould be like him. All relationships are relationships of love. Allgraces are graces of love. All duties are parts of one great duty--tolove one another. All worthy and noble character is love wrought outin life. All life here is a school, with its tasks, its struggles, itsconflicts, its minglings with men, its friendships, its experiences ofjoy and sorrow, its burdens, its disappointments and hopes, and thefinal education to be attained is love. Browning puts it thus in"Rabbi Ben Ezra":--

 Our life, with all it yields of joy or woe, And hope and fear, --believe the aged friend, Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love, How love might be, hath been, indeed, and is. 

What is this love which it is the one great lesson of life to learn?Toward God, it may express itself in devotion, worship, praise, obedience, fellowship. This seems to be the chief thought of love inthe common conception of heaven. It is all adoration, glorifying. Butlove has a manward as well as a Godward development. St. John, thedisciple of love, teaches very plainly that he who says he loves Godmust prove it by also loving man. If the whole of our training here isto be in loving and in living out our love, we certainly have the clewto the heavenly life. We shall continue in the doing of the things wehave here learned to do. Life in glory will be earth's Christian lifeintensified and perfected. Heaven will not be a place of idle repose. Inaction can never be a condition of blessedness for a life made andtrained for action. The essential quality of love is service--"not tobe ministered unto, but to minister;" and for one who has learnedlove's lesson, happiness never can be found in a state in which thereis no opportunity for ministering. In heaven it will still be moreblessed to give than to receive; and those who are first will be thosewho with lowly spirit serve most deeply. Heaven will be a place ofboundless activity. "His servants shall serve him. " The powerstrained here for the work of Christ will find ample opportunity therefor doing their best service. Said Victor Hugo in his old age, "When Igo down to the grave, I can say, like so many others, 'I have finishedmy day's work;' but I cannot say, 'I have finished my life. ' My day'swork will begin again next morning. My tomb is not a blind alley, itis a thoroughfare; it closes with the twilight to open with the dawn. "

Whatever mystery there may be concerning the life that believers inChrist shall live in heaven, we may be sure at least that they willcarry with them all that is true and divine of their earthly life. Thecharacter formed here they will retain through death. The capacitythey have gained by the use of their powers they will have for thebeginning of their activity in the new life. There can be no doubtthat they shall find work commensurate with and fitted to their trainedpowers. 

So heaven will be a far more natural place than we imagine it will be. It will not be greatly unlike the ideal life of earth. We probablyshall be surprised when we meet each other to find how little we havechanged. The old tenderness will not be missing. We shall recognizeour friends by some little gentle ways they used to have here, or bysome familiar thoughtfulness that was never wanting in them. Thefriendships we began here, and had not time to cultivate, we shall haveopportunity there to renew, and carry on through immortal years. 

Even at the best, human friendships only begin in this life; in heaventhey will reach their best and holiest possibilities. There are liveswhich only touch each other in this world and then separate, goingtheir different ways--like ships that pass in the night. There will betime enough in heaven for any such faintest beginnings of friendship tobe wrought out in beauty. Friendships with Jesus here touch but theshore of an infinite ocean; in heaven, unhindered, in uninterruptedfellowship, we shall be forever learning more of this love of Christwhich passeth knowledge. 

CHAPTER XV. 

JESUS AS A FRIEND. 

 "Long, long centuries Agone, One walked the earth, his life A seeming failure; Dying, he gave the world a gift That will outlast eternities. "

The world has always paid high honor to friendship. Some of the finestpassages in all history are the stories of noble friendships, --storieswhich are among the classics of literature. The qualities which belongto an ideal friend have been treated by many writers through all thecenturies. But Jesus Christ brought into the world new standards foreverything in human life. He was the one complete Man, --God's idealfor humanity. "Once in the world's history was born a Man. Once inthe roll of the ages, out of innumerable failures, from the stock ofhuman nature, one bud developed itself into a faultless flower. Oneperfect specimen of humanity has God exhibited on earth. " To Jesus, therefore, we turn for the divine ideal of everything in human life. What is friendship as interpreted by Jesus? What are the qualities ofa true friend as illustrated in the life of Jesus?

It is evident that he lifted the ideal of friendship to a height towhich it never before had been exalted. He made all things new. Dutyhad a new meaning after Jesus taught and lived, and died and roseagain. He presented among men new conceptions of life, new standardsof character, new thoughts of what is worthy and beautiful. Not one ofhis beatitudes had a place among the world's ideals of blessedness. They all had an unworldly, a spiritual basis. The things he said thatmen should live for were not the things which men had been living forbefore he came. He showed new patterns for everything in life. 

Jesus presented a conception for friendship which surpassed all theclassical models. In his farewell to his disciples he gave them whathe called a "new commandment. " The commandment was that his friendsshould love one another. Why was this called a new commandment? Wasthere no commandment before Jesus came and gave it that good men shouldlove one another? Was this rule of love altogether new with him?

In the form in which Jesus gave it, this commandment never had beengiven before. There was a precept in the Mosaic law which at firstseems to be the same as that which Jesus gave, but it was not the same. It read, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. " "As thyself" wasthe standard. Men were to love themselves, and then love theirneighbors as themselves. That was as far as the old commandment went. But the new commandment is altogether different. "As I have loved you"is its measure. How did Jesus love his disciples? As himself? Did hekeep a careful balance all the while, thinking of himself, of his owncomfort, his own ease, his own safety, and going just that far and nofarther in his love for his disciples? No; it was a new pattern oflove that Jesus introduced. He forgot himself altogether, deniedhimself, never saved his own life, never hesitated at any line or limitof service, of cost or sacrifice, in loving. He emptied himself, keptnothing back, spared not his own life. Thus the standard of friendshipwhich Jesus set for his followers was indeed new. Instead of "Love thyneighbor as thyself, " it was "Love as Jesus loved;" and he loved untothe uttermost. 

When we turn to the history of Christianity, we see that the type offriendship which Jesus introduced was indeed a new thing in the world. It was new in its motive and inspiration. The love of the Mosaic lawwas inspired by Sinai; the love of the Christian law got itsinspiration from Calvary. The one was only cold, stern law; the otherwas burning passion. The one was enforced merely as a duty; the otherwas impressed by the wondrous love of Christ. No doubt men loved Godin the Old Testament days, for there were many revealings of hisgoodness and his grace and love in the teachings of those who spoke forGod to men. But wonderful as were these revelations, they could notfor a moment be compared with the manifestation of God which was madein Jesus Christ. The Son of God came among men in human form, and ingentle and lowly life all the blessedness of the divine affection waspoured out right before men's eyes. At last there was the cross, wherethe heart of God broke in love. 

No wonder that, with such inspiration, a new type of friendshipappeared among the followers of Jesus. We are so familiar with thelife which Christianity has produced, where the fruits of the Spirithave reached their finest and best development, that it is well-nighimpossible for us to conceive of the condition of human society as itwas before Christ came. Of course there was love in the world beforethat day. Parents loved their children. There was natural affection, which sometimes even in heathen countries was very strong and tender. Friendships existed between individuals. History has enshrined thestory of some of these. There always were beautiful things inhumanity, --fragments of the divine image remaining among the ruins ofthe fall. 

But the mutual love of Christians which began to show itself on the dayof Pentecost surpassed anything that had ever been known in even themost refined and gentle society. It was indeed divine love in new-bornmen. No mere natural human affection could ever produce suchfellowship as we see in the pentecostal church. It was a little ofheaven's life let down upon earth. Those who so loved one another werenew men; they had been born again--born from above. Jesus came toestablish the kingdom of heaven upon the earth. In other words, hecame to make heaven in the hearts of his believing ones. That is whatthe new friendship is. A creed does not make one a Christian;commandments, though spoken amid the thunders of Sinai, will neverproduce love in a life. The new ideal of love which Jesus came tointroduce among men was the love of God shed abroad in human hearts. "As I have loved you, that ye also love one another" was the newrequirement. 

Since, then, the new ideal of friendship is that which Jesus gave inhis own life, it will be worth our while to make a study of this holypattern, that we may know how to strive toward it for ourselves. 

We may note the tenderness of the friendship of Jesus. It has beensuggested by an English preacher that Christ exhibited the blendedqualities of both sexes. "There was in him the womanly heart as wellas the manly brain. " Yet tenderness is not exclusively a womanlyexcellence; indeed, since tenderness can really coexist only withstrength, it is in its highest manifestation quite as truly a manly asa womanly quality. Jesus was inimitably tender. Tenderness in him wasnever softness or weakness. It was more like true motherliness thanalmost any other human affection; it was infolding, protecting, nourishing love. 

We find abundant illustrations of this quality in the story of the lifeof Jesus. The most kindly and affectionate men are sure sometime toreveal at least a shade of harshness, coldness, bitterness, orseverity. But in Jesus there was never any failure of tenderness. Wesee it in his warm love for John, in his regard for little children, inhis compassion for sinners who came to his feet, in his weeping overthe city which had rejected him and was about to crucify him, in histhought for the poor, in his compassion for the sick. 

Another quality of the friendship of Jesus was patience. In all hislife he never once failed in this quality. We see it in his treatmentof his disciples. They were slow learners. He had to teach the samelesson over and over again. They could not understand his character. But he wearied not in his teaching. They were unfaithful, too, intheir friendship for him. In a time of alarm they all fled, while oneof them denied him, and another betrayed him. But never once was therethe slightest impatience shown by him. Having loved his own, he lovedthem unto the uttermost, through all dulness and all unfaithfulness. He suffered unjustly, but bore all wrong in silence. He never lost histemper. He never grew discouraged, though all his work seemed to be invain. He never despaired of making beauty out of deformity in hisdisciples. He never lost hope of any soul. Had it not been for thisquality of unwearying patience nothing would ever have come from hisinterest in human lives. 

The friendship of Jesus was unselfish. He did not choose those whosenames would add to his influence, who would help him to rise to honorand renown; he chose lowly, unknown men, whom he could lift up toworthy character. His enemies charged against him that he was thefriend of publicans and sinners. In a sense this was true. He came tobe a Saviour of lost men. He said he was a physician; and aphysician's mission is among the sick, not among the whole and well. 

The friendship of Jesus was not checked or foiled by the discovery offaults or blemishes in those whom he had taken into his life. Even inour ordinary human relations we do not know what we are engaging to dowhen we become the friend of another. "For better for worse, forricher for poorer, in sickness and in health, " runs the marriagecovenant. The covenant in all true friendship is the same. We pledgeour friend faithfulness, with all that faithfulness includes. We knownot what demands upon us this sacred compact may make in years to come. Misfortune may befall our friend, and he may require our aid in manyways. Instead of being a help he may become a burden. But friendshipmust not fail, whatever its cost may be. When we become the friend ofanother we do not know what faults and follies in him closeracquaintance may disclose to our eyes. But here, again, idealfriendship must not fail. 

What is true in common human relations was true in a far more wonderfulway of the friendship of Jesus. We have only to recall the story ofhis three years with his disciples. They gave him at the best a veryfeeble return for his great love for them. They were inconstant, weak, foolish, untrustful. They showed personal ambition, striving for firstplaces, even at the Last Supper. They displayed jealousy, envy, narrowness, ingratitude, unbelief, cowardice. As these unlovely thingsappeared in the men Jesus had chosen, his friendship did not slacken orunloose its hold. He had taken them as his friends, and he trustedthem wholly; he committed himself to them absolutely, without reserve, without condition, without the possibility of withdrawal. No matterhow they failed, he loved them still. He was patient with theirweaknesses and with their slow growth, and was not afraid to wait, knowing that in the end they would justify his faith in them and hiscostly friendship for them. 

Jesus thought not of the present comfort and pleasure of his friends, but of their highest and best good. Too often human friendship in itsmost generous and lavish kindness is really most unkind. It thinksthat its first duty is to give relief from pain, to lighten burdens, toalleviate hardship, to smoothe the rough path. Too often serious hurtis done by this over-tenderness of human love. 

But Jesus made no such mistakes in dealing with his friends. He didnot try to make life easy for them. He did not pamper them. He neverlowered the conditions of discipleship so that it would be easy forthem to follow him. He did not carry their burdens for them, but putinto their hearts courage and hope to inspire and strengthen them tocarry their own loads. 

He did not keep them secluded from the world in a quiet shelter so thatthey would not come in contact with the world's evil nor meet itsassaults; his method with them was to teach them how to live so thatthey should have the divine protection in the midst of spiritualdanger, and then to send them forth to face the perils and fight thebattles. His prayer for his disciples was not that they should betaken out of the world, thus escaping its dangers and getting away fromits struggles, but that they should be kept from the world's evil. Heknew that if they would become good soldiers they must be trained inthe midst of the conflict. Hence he did not fight their battles forthem. He did not save Peter from being sifted; it was necessary thathis apostle should pass through the terrible experience, even though heshould fail in it and fall. His prayer for him was not that he shouldnot be sifted, but that his faith should not altogether fail. His aimin all his dealings with his friends was to train them into heroiccourage and invincible character, and not to lead them along flowerypaths through gardens of ease. 

We are in the habit of saying that the follower of Christ will alwaysfind goodness and mercy wherever he is led. This is true; but it mustnot be understood to mean that there will never be any hardness toendure, any cross to bear, any pain or loss to experience. We growbest under burdens. We learn most when lessons are hard. When we getthrough this earthly life, and stand on the other side, and can lookback on the path over which we have been led, it will appear that wehave found our best blessings where we thought the way was most drearyand desolate. We shall see then that what seemed sternness andseverity in Christ was really truest and wisest friendship. Onewrites:--

 "If you could go back to the forks of the road-- Back the long miles you have carried the load; Back to the place where you had to decide By this way or that through your life to abide;

 Back of the sorrow and back of the care; Back to the place where the future was fair-- If you were there now, a decision to make, Oh, pilgrim of sorrow, which road would you take?

 Then, after you'd trodden the other long track, Suppose that again to the forks you went back, After you found that its promises fair Were but a delusion that led to a snare--

 That the road you first travelled with sighs and unrest, Though dreary and rough, was most graciously blest, With a balm for each bruise and a charm for each ache, Oh, pilgrim of sorrow, which road would you take?"

Sometimes good people are disappointed in the way their prayers areanswered. Indeed, they seem not to be answered at all. They ask Godto take away some trouble, to lift off some load, and their request isnot granted. They continue to pray, for they read that we must beimportunate, that men ought always to pray and not to faint; but stillthere seems no answer. Then they are perplexed. They cannotunderstand why God's promises have failed. 

But they have only misread the promises. There is no assurance giventhat the burdens shall be lifted off and carried for us. God would notbe the wise, good, and loving Father he is, if at every cry of any ofhis children he ran to take away the trouble, or free them from thehardness, or make all things easy and pleasant for them. Such a coursewould keep us always children, untrained, undisciplined. Only inburden-bearing and in enduring can we learn to be self-reliant andstrong. Jesus himself was trained on the battlefield, and in life'sactual experiences of trial. He learned obedience by the things thathe suffered. It was by meeting temptation and by being victorious init that he became Master of the world, able to deliver us in all ourtemptations. 

Not otherwise can we grow into Christlike men. It would be unkindnessin our Father to save us from the experiences by which alone we can bedisciplined into robust and vigorous strength. The promises do notread that if we call upon God in our trouble he will take the troubleaway. Rather the assurance is that if we call upon God he will answerus. The answer may not be relief; it may be only cheer. We are taughtto cast our burden upon the Lord, but we are not told that the Lordwill take it away. The promise is that he will sustain us under theburden. We are to continue to bear it; and we are assured that weshall not faint under the load, for God will strengthen us. Theassurance is not that we shall not be tempted, but that no temptationbut such as man can bear shall come to us, and that the faithful Godwill not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able to endure. 

This, then, is what divine friendship does. It does not make it easyfor us to live, for then we should get no blessing of strength andgoodness from living. How, then, are our prayers answered? Godsustains us so that we faint not; and then, as we endure in faith andpatience, his benediction is upon us, giving us wisdom, and impartingstrength to us. 

The friendship of Jesus was always sympathetic. Many persons, however, misunderstand the meaning of sympathy. They think of it as merely aweak pity, which sits down beside one who is suffering or in sorrow, and enters into the experience, without doing anything to lift him upor strengthen him. Such sympathy is really of very little value in thetime of trouble. It may impart a consciousness of companionship whichwill somewhat relieve the sense of aloneness, but it makes the suffererno braver or stronger. Indeed, it takes strength from him byaggravating his sense of distress. 

It was not thus, however, that the sympathy of Jesus was manifested. There was no real pain or sorrow in any one which did not touch hisheart and stir his compassion. He bore the sicknesses of his friends, and carried their sorrows, entering with wonderful love into everyhuman experience. But he did more than feel with those who weresuffering, and weep beside them. His sympathy was always for theirstrengthening. He never encouraged exaggerated thoughts of pain orsuffering--for in many minds there is a tendency to such feelings. Henever gave countenance to morbidness, self-pity, or any kind ofunwholesomeness in grief. He never spoke of sorrow or trouble in adespairing way. He sought to inculcate hope, and to make men braverand stronger. His ministry was always toward cheer and encouragement. He gave great eternal truths on which his friends might rest in theirsorrow, and then bade them be of good cheer, assuring them that he hadovercome the world. He gave them his peace and his joy; not sinkingdown into the depths of sad helplessness with them, but rather liftingthem up to sympathy with him in his victorious life. 

The wondrous hopefulness of Jesus pervades all his ministry on behalfof others. He was never discouraged. Every sorrow was to him a pathto a deeper joy. Every battle was a way to the blessing ofvictoriousness. Every load under which men bent was a secret of newstrength. In all loss gain was infolded. Jesus lived this lifehimself; it was no mere theory which he taught to his followers, andhad never tried or proved himself. He never asked his friends toaccept any such untested theories. He lived all his own lessons. Hewas not a mere teacher; he was a leader of men. Thus his strongfriendship was full of magnificent inspiration. He called men to newthings in life, and was ready to help them reach the highestpossibilities in achievement and attainment. 

This friendship of Jesus is the inspiration which is lifting the worldtoward divine ideals. "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will drawall men unto me, " was the stupendous promise and prophecy of Jesus, ashis eye fell on the shadow of the cross at his feet, and he thought ofthe fruits of his great sorrow and the influence of his love. Everylife that is struggling to reach the beauty and perfectness of God'sthought for it is feeling the power of this blessed friendship, and isbeing lifted up into the likeness of the Master. 

This friendship of Jesus waits as a mighty divine yearning at the doorof every human heart "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock, " is itscall. "If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in tohim, and will sup with him, and he with me. " This blessed friendshipwaits before each life, waits to be accepted, waits to receivehospitality. Wherever it is received, it inspires in the heart aheavenly love which transforms the whole life. To be a friend ofChrist is to be a child of God in the goodly fellowship of heaven. 

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