Coming of Christ | AdventAI

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 30, 1859

Coming of Christ.

THERE is no event to which the real Christian looks with deeper and more thrilling interest, than to the coming of Christ. So deep is the interest in this event, that he is indeed "Looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of God." This state of mind is not natural; it is one to which he has attained by the assistance of Divine grace. Man in his natural state dreads the coming of Christ; and there is nothing he so much dreads.

Reader, I appeal to you if unchanged in heart—I ask you most seriously and religiously, if you were told that this very night the trumpet should sound from heaven, and you be called on to meet your descending Lord, would the tidings be welcomed by you as happy tidings? Would you rejoice? No!

You would say, rather than to behold that slighted Saviour, I would live where the light of day never dawns, where the music of human voice is never heard—lone, alone, let me forever be, rather than be summoned to his presence. Remember, dear friend, this state of feeling stamps your character. It proves conclusively that you are not the redeemed of the Lord; that there is no communion or fellowship between him and you.

I said at the outset, the real Christian looks for and desires the coming of Christ. Why? Because there is in the godly soul a feeling of intense love for its Saviour—there is a blessed oneness with Christ. Yet notwithstanding this oneness he feels that he might be nearer, and that when he shall appear in his glory, "then we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."

And when Christ speaks to him from his word saying "Surely I come quickly," with holy assurance and triumph he utters the language of the apostle. "Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus." The great desire of his heart is well expressed by the poet.

"Hasten, Lord thy promised hour; Come in glory and in power."

Christian friend, will you rest with unshaken confidence on the blessed word of promise? Amid the changing comforts, dying pleasures, and piercing griefs of life, bind upon the heart the promise of the ever blessed Saviour. "In me ye shall have peace. Let not your heart be troubled. In my Father's house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you." When sorrow's dark cloud lowers upon thy path, hear him say, "Ye now have sorrow; but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." O to hear that Saviour say, "If I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there, ye may be also," cheers the pilgrim along life's rugged way.—Sel.