Part 17

We have no recorded incidents in connexion with these two nights at Bethany. We are left only to realise in thought the refreshment alike for body and spirit our Lord enjoyed. Exhausted with the fatigues of each day, and the advancing storm-cloud ready to burst on His devoted head, we may well imagine how grateful repose would be in the old homestead of congenial friendship.

The last evening He spent at the "Palm-clad Village" must in many ways have been full of sorrowing thoughts. He had, in the afternoon, on His return from Jerusalem, when seated with his disciples "over against the Temple," gazing on its doomed magnificence, been discoursing on the appalling desolation which awaited that loved and time-honoured sanctuary. This had led Him to the more sublime and terrific theme of a Day of Judgment. Not only did He foresee the grievous obduracy of His own infatuated countrymen, but His Omniscient eye, travelling down to the consummation of all things, wept over the fate of myriads, who, in spite of atoning love and mercy, were to despise and perish.

He left the threshold, consecrated so oft by His Pilgrim steps, on the Thursday of that week, not to return again till death had numbered Him among its victims. On that same morning He had sent His disciples into the city to make preparation for the keeping of the Passover Supper. He Himself followed, probably towards the afternoon, and joined them in "the Upper room," where, after celebrating for the last time the old Jewish rite, he instituted the New Testament memorial of His own dying love. Supper being ended, the disciples, probably, contemplated nothing but a return, as on preceding evenings, by their old route to Bethany. Singing their paschal hymn, they descended the Jehoshaphat ravine, by the side of the Temple. The brook Kedron was crossed, and they are once more on the Bethany path. They have reached Gethsemane; their Master retires into the depths of the olive grove, as was often His wont, to hold secret communion with His Father. But the crisis-hour has at last arrived! The Shepherd is about to be smitten, and the sheep to be scattered! Rude hands arrest Him on His way. In vain shall Lazarus and his sisters wait for their expected Lord! For Him that night there is no voice of earthly comforter--no couch of needed rest;--when the shadows of darkness have gathered around Bethany, and the pale passover moon is lighting up its palm-trees, the Lord of glory is standing buffetted and insulted in the hall of Annas.

The Remembrances of Bethany are here absorbed and overshadowed for a time by the darker memories of Gethsemane and Calvary. Jesus may, indeed, afterwards revisit the loved haunt of former friendship; but meanwhile He is first to accomplish that glorious Decease, but for which the world could never have had on its surface one Bethany-home of love, or been cheered by one ray of happiness or hope.

In vain do we try to picture, as we revert to the peaceful Village, the feelings of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary on that day of ignominious crucifixion! where they were--how they were employed! Can we imagine that they could linger behind, unconcerned, in their dwelling, when their Best Friend was in the hands of His murderers? We cannot think so. We may rather well believe that among the tearful eyes of the weeping women that followed the innocent Victim along the "Dolorous way," not the least anguished were the two Bethany mourners; and that as He hung upon the cross, and His languid eye saw here and there a faithful friend lingering around him while disciples had fled, Lazarus would be among the few who soothed and smoothed that awful death-pillow! Perhaps even when death had sealed His eyes, and faithless apostles gave vent to their feelings of hopeless despondency, "We trusted it had been He who should have redeemed Israel," the family of Bethany would recollect how oft He had spoken of this very hour of darkness and bereavement which had now come; Mary would, in trembling emotion, (in connexion with the humble token of her own gratitude and affection,) remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how He said, "Let her alone, against the day of my burying hath she done this."

We need not pursue these thoughts. We may well believe, however, that when the first day of the week had come--and the glad announcement spread from disciple to disciple, "The Lord is risen indeed,"--on no home in Judea would the tidings fall more welcome than on that of Lazarus of Bethany. Martha and Mary had, a few weeks before, experienced the happiness of a restored Brother. Now it was that of a restored Saviour! Whether He revisited these, His former friends, the days immediately after His resurrection, we cannot tell. It is more than probable He would. May not some hallowed unrecorded "Memories of Bethany" be included in the closing words of John's gospel--"There are also many OTHER things which Jesus did?" On the way to Emmaus He joined Himself to two disciples, and "caused their hearts to burn within them as He talked by the way." So may He not have joined Himself to the friends with whom He had so oft held sacred intercourse during the days of His humiliation--breathing on them His benediction, and discoursing of those covenant blessings which He had died to purchase, and which He was about to bestow, "set as king on His holy hill of Zion." With what a new and glorious meaning to Martha must her Saviour's words have now been invested, "I am the Resurrection and the Life--he that believeth on Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live."

As the God-man, He had power over her brother's life--He had now demonstrated that He had "power over His own;"--"power" not only to "lay it down," but "power to take it up again." Her Lord had "spoken once, yea twice had she heard this, that power belongeth unto God."

The Grave of Bethany was thus in her eyes inseparably connected with the grave at Golgotha. But for the rolling away of the stone from a more august sepulchre, her brother must still have been slumbering in the embrace of death. "But now had Christ risen from the dead, and become the first-fruits of them that slept."

The Almighty Reaper had risen Himself from the tomb, with the sharp sickle in His hand. In the person of His dearest earthly friend He presented an earnest-sheaf of the great Resurrection-reaping-time--when the mandate was to be carried to the four winds of heaven, "Put ye in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe;--Multitudes--multitudes in the Valley of Decision."

Can we participate in the joy of the family of BETHANY? Have we, like them, followed Christ to His cross and His tomb, and listened to the angelic announcement, "He is not here, He is risen?" Have we seen in His death the secret of our life? Have we beheld Him as the Great Precursor emerging from Hades, and shewing to ransomed millions the purchased path of life--the luminous highway to glory? Let our hearts be as Bethany dwellings, to welcome in a dying risen Jesus. Let us not expel Him from our souls by our sins--crucifying the Lord afresh, and putting Him to an open shame. Let not God's restoring mercies be, as, alas! often they are to us, unsanctified;--receiving back our Lazarus from the brink of the tomb, but refusing, on the return of health and prosperity, to share in bearing our Lord's cross--to "go forth with Him without the camp--bearing His reproach." If He has delivered our souls from death, and our eyes from tears, be it ours to follow Him through good and through bad report. Not alone amid the hosannahs of His people, or amid the world's bright sunshine, but, if need be, to confront suffering, and trial, and death for His sake. Like the Bethany family, let us mourn His absence, and long for His return. It is but for "a little while" we "shall not see Him"--"again a little while and we shall see Him." Oh, blessed day! when the words of the old prophet will start once more into fulfilment, and a voice from Heaven will thus address a waiting Church--"Rejoice, O daughter of Zion, behold thy King cometh!" He cometh!--but it is now with no badges of humiliation--with no anticipations of sorrow and woe to mar that hour of glory. "His head shall be crowned with many crowns"--all His saints with Him to share His triumph and enter into His joy. May we be enabled to look forward to that blessed season when, arrayed in white robes, with golden crowns on our heads, and palms of victory in our hands, these shall be cast at His feet, and the feeble Hosannahs of time shall be lost and merged in the rapturous Hallelujahs of eternity!

XXI.

THE LAST VISIT.

What saddening thoughts are associated with our final interview with a Beloved Friend! He was in health when we last met; we little dreamt, in parting, we were to meet no more. Every circumstance of that interview is stored up in the most hallowed chambers of the soul. His last words--his last look--his last smile--they live there in undying memorial! Such was now the case with the disciples. They had their last walk together with their beloved Master. Ere another sun goes down over the western hills of Jerusalem He will have returned from His consummated Work to the bosom of His Father!

And what is the spot which he selects as the place of Ascension?--What the favoured height or valley that is to listen to His farewell words? Still it is BETHANY--the loved home of cherished friendship, where, so lately, hours of anticipated anguish had been mitigated and soothed. The spot which, above all others, had been witness to His tears and His Omnipotence, is selected as that from which, or near to which, He is to bid adieu to his sorrowing Church on earth. Although there seem to be no special reasons for this selection, we cannot think it was altogether undesigned or insignificant. Our Lord was still MAN--participating in every tender feeling of our common nature; and just as many are known in life to express a partiality for the place of their departure, where they would desire their last hours to be spent, or for the sepulchre or churchyard where they would prefer their ashes to be laid;--so may we not imagine the Saviour, reverting in these, His last hours, to the hallowed memories of that hallowed village, wishful that He might ascend to heaven within view, at least, of the spot He loved so well?

Whether this be the true explanation or no, we are called now to follow Him, in thought, from His concluding visit in Jerusalem to the scene of Ascension. We may imagine it, in all likelihood, the early dawn of day. The grey mists of morning were still hovering over the Jehoshaphat valley, as for the last time he descended the well-known path. He must have crossed the brook KEDRON--that brook which had so oft before murmured in His ear during night-seasons of deep sorrow--He must have passed by GETHSEMANE--the thick Olives pendant with dew, the shadows of early day still brooding over them. Their gloomy vistas must have recalled terrible hours, when the sod underneath was moistened with "great drops of blood." Can we dare to imagine His sensations and feelings when passing now? Would they not be the same as that of every Christian still, while passing through memories of trial, "It was good for me to be here?" Had He dashed untasted to the ground, the cup which in the depths of that awful solitude He had grasped six weeks before, His work would have been undone--a world yet unsaved! But He shrunk not from that baptism of blood and suffering. Gethsemane can now be gazed upon as a place of triumph. His Omniscient eye, as He now skirts its precincts, connects its awful struggles with the Redemption and joy of ransomed myriads through all eternity. He has the first realising earnest of the prophet's words,--Seeing of the fruit of "the travail of His soul," He is "satisfied."

But vain is it to conjecture feelings and emotions unrecorded. It would, doubtless, not be on Himself the Great Redeemer would, in these waning hours of earthly communion, chiefly dwell. They would rather be occupied in preparing the hearts of the sorrowful band around Him for His approaching departure. He would unfold to them the glorious conquests which, in His name, they were on earth to achieve, as His standard-bearers and apostles, and the ineffable bliss awaiting them in that Heaven whither He was about to ascend as their Forerunner and Precursor. It must indeed have been to them a season of severe and bitter trial! They had in their hearts a full and tender impression--a gushing recollection of three years' unvarying kindness and affection--sorrows soothed--burdens eased--ingratitude overlooked--treachery forgiven. Many others they could only think of in connexion with altered tones and changed affection. He was ever the same! But the sad day has really come when they are to be parted for time! No more tender counsels in difficulty,--no more gentle rebukes in waywardness,--no more joyous surprises, as on the shores of Tiberias, or the road to Emmaus, when, with joyful lips, they would exclaim,--"It is the Lord!" This dream of blissful intercourse, like a meteor-flash, was about to be quenched in darkness. Their Lord was to depart, and long, long centuries were to elapse ere His gracious face was to be seen again!

Whether, in this ever-memorable walk to the place of Ascension, the Adorable Redeemer visited the village of Bethany, we cannot tell. It is possible--it is more than possible--He may have honoured the home of Lazarus with a farewell benediction; but this we can only conjecture. All the notice we have regarding it is: that "He led them out as far as to Bethany;" that He there lifted up His hands and blessed them; and was from thence taken up to Heaven. Honoured hamlet! thus to be alone mentioned in connexion with the closing scene in this mighty drama! He selected not Bethlehem, where angel hosts had chanted His praise; nor Tabor, where celestial beings had hovered around Him in homage; nor Calvary, where riven rocks and bursting grave-stones had proclaimed His deity; nor the Temple-court, in all its sumptuous glory, where for ages His own Shekinah had blazed in mystic splendour; but He hallows afresh the name of a lowly Village; He consecrates a Home of love. BETHANY is the last spot which lingers on His view, as the cloud comes down and receives Him out of sight.

Let us gather for a little in imagination on this sacred ground. Let us note a few of the interesting thoughts which cluster around it, and listen to the Saviour's farewell themes of converse there with His beloved disciples.

(1.) He cheers their hearts with the promised baptism of the Holy Ghost.--"John," He had said, a few hours before, at His last meeting with them in Jerusalem, "truly baptized with water; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence." He, moreover, enjoined them to linger in the Holy City, and wait this "promise of the Father" which "they had heard of Him;" and now, once more, when on the eve of Ascension, He speaks of the coming of the same Holy Ghost to qualify them for their future work.

This, we know, was the great topic of consolation with which He had often before soothed their hearts at the thought of parting. He was to leave them;--but an Almighty Paraclete or Comforter was to take His place, whose gracious presence would more than compensate for the withdrawal of His own. For when, on the intimation of His coming departure, He observed that sorrow was filling their hearts--"It is expedient," said He, "for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you."

Now that the anticipated hour is come, He reverts to the same omnipotent ground of comfort;--that this Divine Enlightener, Cheerer, Sanctifier, would fill up the gap His own withdrawal would make. They were about to enter on a new dispensation--the dispensation of the SPIRIT--and the approaching Pentecost was to give them a pledge and earnest of His mighty agency in the conversion of souls.

Jesus, our adorable Lord, has ascended to "His Father and our Father--to His God and our God!" We, like the disciples, have to mourn the denial of His personal presence. His Church is left widowed and lonely by reason of His departure. But have we known, in our experience, the value of the great compensating boon here spoken of? Have we known, in the midst of our weakness and wants, our griefs and sorrows, the power and grace of the promised Paraclete? It is to be feared we do not realise or value His blessed agency as we ought. To what is much of the deadness, and dullness, and languor of our frames to be traced--the poverty of our faith, the lukewarmness of our love, the coldness of our Sabbath services, the little hold and influence of divine things upon us? Is it not to the feeble realisation of the quickening, life-giving power of this Divine Agent? "It is the Spirit that quickeneth." Church of the living God! if you would awake from your slumber and apathy; if you would exhibit among your members more faithfulness, more zeal, more love, more unselfishness, more union--if you would buckle on your armour for fresh conquests in the outlying wastes of heathenism, it will be by a fresh baptism of the Holy Ghost! Another Pentecost will usher in the Millennial morning. The showers of His benign influences will form the prelude to the world's great Spiritual Harvest. "Pray ye, then, the Lord of the Harvest," that His Spirit may "come down like rain upon the mown grass, and as showers that water the earth," and that the promise regarding the latter-day glory may be fulfilled--"I will pour down My Spirit upon all flesh." Or would you have Jesus made more precious to your own soul? Would you see more of His matchless excellences,--the glories of His person and work,--His suitableness and adaptation to all the wants and weaknesses, the sorrows and temptations, of your tried and tempted natures. Pray for this gracious Unfolder of the Saviour's character. This is one of His most precious offices--as the Revealer of Jesus. "He shall glorify Me; for He shall receive of Mine, and shall shew it unto you!"

(2.) Another theme of Christ's converse, when within sight of Bethany, was the nature of His Kingdom--"Lord, wilt thou at this time restore again the kingdom of Israel?" was the inquiry of the disciples. "And he said unto them, It is not for you to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath put in His own power."

The thoughts of His followers were clinging to the last to the dream of earthly sovereignty. How difficult it is to get even the renewed and regenerated mind to understand and realise Heavenly things, and to wean it from what is of the earth earthy! He checks their presumption--He tells them these are questions which they may not pry into. There is to be no present fulfilment of these visions of millennial glory. That day and that hour are to be wrapt in unrevealed and impenetrable secrecy. The Church may not attempt rashly and inquisitively to lift the veil. She is not to know the time of the Saviour's appearing, that she may live every day in the frame she would wish to be found in when the cry shall be heard, "Behold the Bridegroom cometh." The apostolic band are, in the first instance, to be cross-bearers, as He their Master was,--witnesses to His sufferings, earthen vessels, defamed, persecuted, reviled,--before they become partakers of His purchased happiness and bliss!

Nevertheless, it was a grand and glorious mission He sketched out for them. How worthy of HIMSELF--of his loving, forgiving, unselfish Spirit--was the opening clause in that wondrous Missionary Charter He then put into their hands. Even at the moment when all the memory of Jewish ingratitude was fresh on His heart, He inserts a wondrous provision of mercy and grace. They were to proclaim His name through the wide world; but was JERUSALEM (the scene of His ignominy) to form an exception? Nay, rather they were to begin there! The Gospel-Trumpet was to be sounded in its streets. The assassins of Gethsemane, the murderers of Calvary were to listen to the first offers of pardon and reconciliation--"And He said unto them ... that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem!" Precious warrant, surely, are these words to "the chief of sinners" to repair to this gracious Saviour. If even for "the Jerusalem sinner" there is mercy, can there be ground for one human being to despair?

But "beginning" at Jerusalem, the Gospel Commission did not end there? It was to embrace, first, "Judea," then "Samaria," then "the uttermost parts of the earth." The ascending Redeemer's expansive heart took in with a vast sweep the wide circle of humanity. From the elevated ridge of Olivet, on which He now stood with the arrested group around Him, He might tell them to gaze, in thought at least, far north beyond the Cedar Heights of Lebanon and Hermon;--Southward to the desert and the Isles of the Ocean;--Westward to the fair lands washed by the Great Sea;--Eastward across the palm-trees of Bethany and the chain of Moabite mountains on unexplored continents, where heathenism still revelled in its rites and orgies of impurity and blood. With Palestine as their centre and starting-point, the vast World was to be their circumference. The Gospel was to be preached "as a witness to all nations." The Great Mission-Angel was to "fly through the midst of Heaven," having its everlasting truths to "preach to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people."

Are we faithfully fulfilling our Lord's farewell Apostolic Commission? As members of the Church of God, component parts of the Royal Priesthood, are we doing what lies in our power, that His name, and doctrine, and salvation, be proclaimed to the uttermost parts of the earth? Or is it so, that we are looking coldly, suspiciously, indifferently on the Church's efforts in the cause of Missions, suffering her funds to fail, and her schemes to languish, and her devoted servants to sink in discouragement? Or rather, are we prepared to incur the responsibility of heathen souls, through our neglect, passing hour by hour into eternity, with a Saviour's name unheard of, and a Saviour's love unknown? Go to the Rocky ridge above BETHANY, and listen to the parting injunction of our Great Master. His last words, ere the cloud received Him to glory, were Missionary words, a Missionary appeal, a pleading for the Gospel being sent to heathen shores. Ah! our own Britain was then among the number! If the Apostolic Company had in these days, like many among ourselves, refused, on the ground of the home-heathen in Judea, to send any of their band abroad, where would we have been at this hour? With our Druids' altars, our bloody sacrifices, our cruel rites! But their best and noblest were commissioned to speed from port to port in the Mediterranean and the Isles of the Gentiles, with the Gospel errand on their lips, and the blessing of God on their labours! All honour to these leal-hearted men, who, in spite of national and hereditary prejudices, implicitly followed the will of their Lord and Master, who had given to them, as He has given to us, a great Missionary motto--"THE FIELD IS THE WORLD!"

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