Christ's Absence

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Publishing Committee · Rochester, N. Y. · Mar 21, 1854

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 5, No. 9.

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Christ's Absence.

"I was telling a friend," says one of God's children, when recording the feelings of her despondent hours, "that I could not praise Christ for anything." "Praise him," was the reply, "that you are miserable without him." The answer was pungent, but proper and consoling. The vacancy in the heart, when Christ has withdrawn himself, is a very sad and fearful one; but it is well that it is a felt, palpable vacancy.
For "the ungodly are not so." No sense of want reminds them constantly of something being lost. They do not miss what they never possessed. The soul finds satisfaction, inadequate indeed, but largely sought for in visible things and earthly gains. Power, or gold, or voluptuous pleasure, or ambition's dreams, or the nobler pursuit of science, fill up the mind or heart, and there is no consciousness of a mournful vacancy, since for Christ there is no room. But to the Christian the want of Christ's sensible presence is the deepest, most momentous want. No earthly want can satisfy the craving which the redeemed heart has for communing with its Redeemer. To be with him and near him; to look upon his face; to rest upon his everlasting arm; to be sheltered under his mighty wings; to walk by his side and be guarded by his hand; this is joy and peace and life. When he withdraweth himself or hideth himself, then cometh trouble; but a trouble that by its very existence, proves the existence of a living affection. We mourn Christ's absence, because we love his presence. We are sad in the darkness, because the light of his countenance was sweet to our souls. And though we may not cease to struggle upwards towards the light, or cease to pray for the Saviour's return, we may thank him for the last consolation which remains for the deserted saint, and "praise him that we are miserable without him."