THERE is a beautiful and comforting thought in the assurance given the disciples of Jesus at the time of his ascension, which is often lost sight of in the hurry and worry of life.
The disciples had learned to know Jesus, and to love him for what he was to them personally as a friend and a teacher, as well as for what he had promised to do for them in the kingdom which he was going away to receive at the hands of his Father. They had seen him at work among the afflicted, straightening and correcting bodily deformities; restoring the sick to health, no matter what the ailment from which they were suffering; comforting the hearts of the mourners, no matter how deep their grief; releasing those possessed of demons from the bondage in which they suffered; feeding the multitudes that hungered for food; and bringing back to life those who had passed under the power of death.
This was the man now being received up in a cloud and disappearing before their wondering eyes, as they continued to look “steadfastly into heaven.” Notwithstanding the promise of the Comforter, there is no doubt that a feeling of unutterable loneliness and sadness came over the disciples while the One who had been so much to them was fading away in the blue dome of the sky. It meant to them that never again in this life would they see his face.
But right at this time while their eyes were fixed upon the sky that seemed to be swallowing up the object of their great love and adoration, two others “in white apparel” joined their company. Now came the assurance which meant so much to the bereaved disciples: “This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.” There was to them a world of meaning in those words, “this same Jesus.” It meant to them what it could not mean to those who had not known him as they had. To them it meant that he was coming as the same object of love to fill the same place in their hearts that he had filled during the years they had been with him. Of course, he was coming as king, as Saviour; but he was coming, too, as “this same Jesus.” Often relatives or friends go away, and are gone for years; we remember them as they were when they went away; we love them with the memory of them in mind; but when they return changed in looks, changed in disposition, changed in their likes and dislikes, with new ambitions and ideas at variance with what we had known of them, while we love them still, yet there seems to be something lost out of our lives; and while we are glad to see them, that gladness is mingled with a feeling of sadness and disappointment. It almost seems as if the past had entombed the subtle something that had been cherished through the years.
But this will not be the case with the return of our blessed Lord. He will be “this same Jesus.” Job, in declaring his belief that he would see God, says, “Whom I, even I, shall see, on my side, and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.” We shall know him by the very perfection of his character. He will not be a stranger there to those who have yielded their hearts to him here, and have had his abiding presence with them through the varied experiences of life.
While upon this earth, he healed the sick of all manner of diseases; but still were they subject to death. But when the redeemed of earth stand before the throne of God, they are also in the presence of that tree of life whose leaves are “for the healing of the nations.” Blessed healing from which there is no return to the jurisdiction of disease!
Blessed healing that closes the healing work of Jesus begun on earth on behalf of his people! Thus do they know him as “this same Jesus.”
On earth, Jesus was the comforting and consoling brother. In heaven, “the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall be their shepherd, and shall guide them unto fountains of waters of life: and God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes.” On earth, Jesus broke the bands of the tomb on more than one occasion, and set free its captives. When he comes, it is to usher in the culmination of that work, send the thrill of life through bodies long held in the prison-house of death, and start the grand chorus from the throats of redeemed men and women and children, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”
On earth, Jesus fed the hungry multitudes on the bread of physical sustenance, as well as on the bread of life. When the reign of the tomb king is past, the tree of life in the garden of God holds out its twelve manner of fruits, and Jesus himself comes forth, the great and beloved Host of the reunited family, and serves them with the fruits of paradise restored. On earth, Jesus found many occasions to cast the emissaries of Satan out of the bodies of men and women who had been tormented by them. What a prophecy of the time when Satan and all his angels shall be cast into the lake of their final destruction, and the universe shall be forever rid of sin and all its dire consequences!
It is this same Jesus, the carpenter of Nazareth, the victor of the wilderness, the teacher in the temple, the healer of the sick, the stiller of the storm, the feeder of the multitude, the silent prisoner of the railing mob, the thorn-crowned “king of the Jews,” the nail-pierced sacrifice upon the cross, the death-bound occupant of Joseph’s new tomb, the risen and ascended Christ, the anointed of God,—this is he whom those disciples will see, and for whom we look, so soon to appear in the clouds of heaven. They who have known and loved him here will still know him and still love him, and will not fear to meet him. It is a blessed assurance, a blessed comfort, a blessed hope. With its fruition, they who have been lovingly looking for him can say: “Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for him, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”