A Presbyterian Minister upon the Second Advent.
If you lack courage and steadfastness, read “Whosoever shall be ashamed . . . of Him will the Son of man be ashamed when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” “Behold, I come quickly; hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.” Hear the voice from above, ringing out like a military order, “Hold fast till I come!” Read Paul’s triumphant words, when he “was ready to be offered,” and anticipate the “crown of righteousness,” awaiting “all those that love his appearing.” When sorely tried by the temptations and provocations of life, listen to the divine counsel: “Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the Lord. For ye have need of patience, that after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise. For yet a little while, and he that shall come, will come, and will not tarry.” The righteous in their many afflictions may always solace their hearts by this “blessed hope.” “Let not your heart be troubled . . . I will come again and receive you to myself.” “Ye now, therefore, have sorrow, but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy, no man taketh from you.” “I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed.” The whole creation is represented, as groaning and anxiously waiting for “the manifestation of the sons of God.” When we stand looking downward through our tears into an open grave, in which we deposit beloved remains, what can cheer us like the doctrine of “Jesus and the Resurrection?” We naturally turn to the fifteenth of Corinthians, which reveals the resurrection of the saints “out from among the dead,” to glory and immortality. Paul comforts the Thessalonians by the assurance that “as Jesus died and rose again, even so them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.” This is, indeed, a blessed hope. We may expect great and glorious things, when Jesus comes. We cannot expect too much. The brightest dreams which Revelation inspires will be more than realized then. And oh, these scenes, surpassing fiction, will burst upon us in all their glory, like the lightning of heaven upon the blackness of midnight. Death is not the coming of Christ. Death is not that blessed hope. Death is an evil in itself, and an enemy to be destroyed. Even our renewed nature shrinks from the pains, the groans, the dying strife. Death is seldom appealed to as a motive in the New Testament. The New Testament never places death between us and “His appearing.” Dean Alford says: “We do not read anything of preparation for death. I doubt whether one text can be found in which we are exhorted to make such preparation as such. But the constant and the continual occurring exhortation, is to be prepared for the Lord’s coming.” Jesus does not say for our comfort, “Ye shall soon die and come to me,” but “I will come again and receive you to myself.” We call death certain, but to the believer it is one of the most uncertain events in the world. Since Christ ascended, no believer has known certainly that he should die, except by special revelation, as in Peter’s case. Paul says, “We shall not all sleep;” and again, “We, which are alive and remain,” indicating strong expectation that he and others whom he addressed, would escape death, and be thrilled into immortality in the twinkling of an eye! In 2 Cor. 5, he expresses a strong desire that he may not be “unclothed;” that is, divested of this body, but “clothed upon;” that is, put on, as it were, the glorified body over it, that “immortality might be swallowed up of life.” To-day there is no clearly announced event in prophecy to occur before the coming of the Lord. Many of God’s dear people are, not without reason, looking and hoping for this. I confess that I do not want to die and go down into the grave. My heart responds to the words of the sainted Baxter: “Would it not rejoice your heart, if you were sure to see the coming of the Lord, and to see his glorious appearing and return? If you were not to die, but to be changed in the twinkling of an eye, clad in immortality, and caught up to meet the Lord and your loved ones in the air?” If I were but sure that I should live to see the coming of the King, and be ushered into glory like Enoch and Elijah, it would be one of the chief joys of my life! Delightful prospects, if our career here could but merge at once in the brightness and glory of Immanuel’s presence and Immanuel’s land. The sacramental table spans the cross and the crown. It revives our memory of a suffering Saviour, and inspires our hope of a glorified and reigning Saviour. The sacramental feast is not a funeral scene, but a forecast of “the marriage supper of the Lamb”—“the feast of fat things” at Jerusalem, when amid triumphal shouts and festal songs, the ransomed ones shall say, “Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us. We will be glad and rejoice in his salvation!” When the Great High Priest ministered in the Most Holy place, the little golden bells, depending from his garment, were kept constantly ringing, to assure the waiting worshippers without, that their representative was living and faithful, and to keep them in watchful expectation of his re-appearing. Just so our Great High Priest in the Heavens, is ringing a thousand golden promises in our ears, to keep alive our blessed hope and expectation. “Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!” This is Christ’s farewell promise to his church, and the church’s hearty echo to the promise. “Come, Lord Jesus, and come quickly!” Thus should the church, the mystical bride of Christ, always pray. We have reason to doubt our love for Him, if we do not love his appearing. What comes to us from Heaven in a promise, should be wafted back to Heaven in a prayer. “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!”