Christ a Companion on the Life-Journey.
By Cuyler
On a certain "first-day" afternoon—more than 1800 years ago—two men set out on foot from Jerusalem to the little village of Emmaus. The journey covered seven miles, but they were not easy miles to travel, for much of the way lay over rugged hill country and through deep ravines. The village toward which they walked is perched, like a birdsnest, on the cliffs that look off toward the Mediterranean Sea.83 It is in the month of Nisan—corresponding by the calendar to our April, but later still by the almanac of the leaves and flowers. On the day that these pedestrians walked to Emmaus, spring was giving place to the soft warmth of opening summer. The air was moist from the "early rains" just over; the hills smelled sweet from the fragrance of budding vines; the valleys laughed with the pomegranates bursting into flower, and the barley crops whitening for the harvest. It was a bright vernal landscape that smiled around them; but sad hearts were they that moved slowly over the hills toward the mountain village. Talking sadly and despondingly of the terrible tragedy that had just been enacted on Calvary, the two disciples walked onward. A stranger accosts them by the wayside. They do not know him. Their "eyes are holden." A supernatural obstruction blinds their vision for the time. So they address him as a stranger. "Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem," inquires Cleopas, "and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?" "What things?" Then they begin and give a brief, artless narrative of the barbarous tragedy that had ended in the judicial murder of him whom they had hailed as the Redeemer of Israel. "O fools, and slow of heart," exclaims the mysterious stranger, "ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?" And beginning at Moses and the prophets, he pours out upon them a stream of rich, instructive, and precious talk, that makes the road seem short to Emmaus. They are there before they are aware, and so charmed with their delightful companion, that they court his society for the night. "Abide with us," is their hospitable invitation. The kind offer is accepted. He comes into their house—reclines beside them at their table—and while he is breaking bread with them, he breaks the illusion, too, and lo! the affable comrade of the journey is no less a personage than their adorable Master! Wonderful companion! Wonderful guest! Wonderful instructor! "Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked with us by the way?" said one. "Mine did," replies the other. And well they might. For the light that had beamed on them, and the heavenly warmth that had kindled their souls, poured from no less a source than the divine heart of the Lord Jesus Christ. Thanks for this delightful episode. I learn from it one precious lesson—that Christ Jesus is willing to be the companion of my life-journey until I reach my heavenly home. Blessed is the man whose heart burns within him from the constant presence and inspiration of the Saviour. I. The first benefit to the believer from having Christ with him, is that the life-journey will be a safe one. He need never miss the right road. He will never be led astray. Christ knows the whole pathway thoroughly from the "City of Destruction" to the City of the Great King. And wherever Christ directs us to walk, there we ought to go. It matters not that we cannot see the end from the beginning. Christ sees; that is enough. He sent Paul on many a perilous path of duty, and when the boiling deep threatened to engulf him, Jesus stood by him, and said, "Fear not, Paul; thou must yet stand before Cæsar." The courage that quailed not in Nero's judgment-hall is easily explained by the heroic apostle's assurance, "The Lord stood with me and strengthened me." What Christ did for Paul, he will do for you, my brother. Invite him to be your companion. Ask his direction; never take a decisive step in life without it. Covet his fellowship, for he that walketh with Jesus, "walketh surely." II. The life-journey, in the second place, is made pleasant by having the Saviour as our constant associate. You all know the charm that is imparted to a voyage by having a genial friend to pace the deck with us in confiding conversation, to gaze with us on the glories of the changeful ocean, and drink in the witchery of the sunrisings and the sunsettings. The road to Emmaus may have seemed long to Cleopas and his companion in other times, but when the affable stranger joined them, how fast the furlongs were measured off! How unweariedly they climbed the rugged hills! Charming was that excursion from the charm of such society. Christian believer! you may walk your daily life-journey with the same celestial companionship if you keep a good conscience and a praying heart. Begin each day on your knees with a cordial invitation to Jesus Christ to vouchsafe to you his presence. Think of him all the while as close by you. The busy bustle of the counting-room did not hinder the fellowship with Christ of Henry Thornton, of Garret Bleecker, and many a godly-minded merchant like them. Many a farmer has communed with Jesus as he followed his plow, until the acres that he trod had "the smell of a field that the Lord had blessed." Many a pious housewife has made the hours seem short as to the merry music of her wheel her heart has sung— "No journey is without its cares,
Life's journey, too, the spirit wears,
It is not all a path of roses;
The road is narrow, foes are strong,
And oft mislead me to the wrong,
The tangled thorn my way opposes;
O'er sorrow's wilds I'm forced to go,
And groping, march the journey through. "But Jesus, once a pilgrim too,
Will be with me a pilgrim true,
Of all my anxious cries a hearer.
Thy warning words in mind I'll keep,
And by thy guidance every step
Shall bring me to salvation nearer,
Till to my journey's end I come,
And live with thee in yonder home." We may have hard and trying places just before us on our life-march. Sick rooms and beds of suffering may be a few weeks or months in advance. But no part of our pilgrimage is more cheerful than that which is spent in the sick room, with the blessed Saviour as the companion of our meditations and devotions. "Here I lie," said the heroic Halyburton, "pained without pain; without any strength, and yet strong. I am not faint; I am refreshed with the spiced wine. Christ comes to me in the watches of the night and draws aside the curtains, and says, It is I, it is I, be not afraid." His heart burned within him with a holier glow as he neared the journey's end. III. Once more. Christ's presence with believers shames them from sin, and stimulates them to duty. Paul assures us that Jesus is "made unto us sanctification" as well as redemption; i. e., his Spirit is a Spirit of holiness. And when we live in union with Jesus, it has a tendency to make us holy. The sense of Christ's immediate presence is a perpetual check upon our lusts and passions—a perpetual spur to our spiritual indolence. Are we tempted to hurry off in the morning under the pressings of business without our usual season of devotion? The thought that Jesus witnesses the petty larceny of few moments, is enough to send us mortified and penitent to our closet. Does an irritating vexation prompt the sharp answer or the angry blow? One look from the all-forgiving Lamb is enough to hush the tumult and smooth the ruffled brow. Am I tempted to a keen bargain? "Why not?" "It is all fair in business." Yes; but what will Christ say? And so on through all the calendar of besetting sins. The sin-hating eye of my spotless Saviour follows me by day and by night; and while in his holy fellowship how dare I play the coward, the cheat, the sensualist, or the poltroon? "How will my wicked passions dare
Consent to sin while Christ is there?" He who walks in the blessed company of Jesus while he lives, is sure of the same divine companionship when he reaches the dying bed. And then, when all earthly loved ones are giving, through tears and sobbings, their last farewells, this Friend that sticketh closer than a brother sweetly whispers, "Fear not, I will never leave thee. Where I am, ye shall be also. Having loved my own, I love them to the end. Thou shalt be for ever with the Lord."