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IT IS I; BE NOT AFRAID

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Oct 12, 1904

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 30, No. 40.

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“IT IS I; BE NOT AFRAID.”

OUR worst enemies are often our foolish fears,—fear of anticipated trouble, of imaginary dangers. Sometimes the danger of seeming danger which looms greatest is the mightiest weapon we could have against present or anticipated trouble.
A MOST graphic lesson of this is illustrated on this page, while the story is told in three of the Gospels, by Matthew (14: 13–19), Mark (6: 35–51), and John (6: 5–21).
It had been a day of wearing toil for Jesus. The news of the cruel death of John the Baptist by Herod at the instigation of his fiendish, unlawful wife, had come to Jesus and His disciples. The Master felt that the disciples needed special instruction and encouragement, so He designed to withdraw them for a time into a deserted place apart from the crowds where a little time could be given to study, meditation, and prayer. But the people saw them and followed to the number of five thousand men, perhaps ten thousand all told of men, women, and children.
THE Saviour of men could not turn them away, so all the remainder of the day He healed their sick and taught them the words of life. As the day wore away, the disciples began to be anxious. No food had as yet been taken. Soon the Teacher must dismiss the multitude, and, unfed, unsupplied, many would faint by the way on their journey home. Some of the disciples tell the Master, and He responds, “Give ye them to eat.” He knows it is impossible. They also know it. They have barely food sufficient for the twelve. But the Master takes it and feeds all abundantly, and has much more left than the original supply. Even so God’s power multiplies responsive human effort.
THEN the fickle people, John tells us, wanted to make Jesus King. He had provided for them what their hearts longed for, the bread that perisheth, and surely He could deliver them from the hated Roman yoke, and furnish them abundance of all things for their comfort. But the Master dismisses them with noble, gentle, kingly authority, sends His disciples by boat to the other side of Galilee, and He Himself retires into the solitude of the mountain that He may have undisturbed opportunity there to plead with God.
THE disciples doubtless were disappointed at the Master’s refusal to acquiesce in the wishes of the people. Surely here was an opportune time to proclaim His kingdom. With brooding, discontented hearts they started for the other side of the lake, when one of the fierce, boisterous winds, for which the little Sea of Galilee is noted, swept down upon them. Long and hard they labored to reach the other shore, but in the morning watch they were only about three miles distant from their starting point. They were utterly worn out, sad, disappointed, discouraged, an easy prey to their fears.
It is at such times that Satan besets the children of God with his fiercest and subtlest temptations. He may not be able to turn them aside into paths of dishonesty, intemperance, or open, flagrant sin of any sort, but when worn and weary and disappointed perhaps in some cherished expectation, the subtle adversary suggests that God has forgotten them. Then it is that the Father’s kind providences and kindly corrections seem to be the overwhelming darkness of despair or the darts of death, when God sends them as messengers of light and healing and helpfulness.
WHEN Jesus sent His disciples away, it was for their own good. When their hopes of a temporal kingdom were swallowed up in the sea’s fierce waves, it was that they might look beyond to the more enduring reign of life and grace. They must learn the lesson thatChrist must rule in the heart before He could truly be their King. They were such slow learners, but are we better than they?