Part 12 (2/2)

Here is Jesus praying! ”Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard Me.”

Then it is not so much a prayer as a thanksgiving. He gives thanks for what He is ”about to receive.” Is this my way? Perhaps I do it before I take a meal. Do I do it before I begin to live the day? In the morning do I thank my G.o.d for what I am about to receive? Can I confidently give thanks before I receive the gifts of G.o.d, before the dish-covers are removed? Can I trust Him?

And here is Jesus commanding, clothed in sovereign power: ”Lazarus, come forth!” That is the same voice which ”in the beginning created the heavens and the earth.”

MARCH The Sixteenth

_THE NEMESIS OF BIGOTRY_

JOHN xi. 46-57.

A fearful nemesis waits upon the spirit of bigotry. Oliver Wendell Holmes has said that bigotry is like the pupil of the eye, the more light you pour into it the more it contracts. The scribes and Pharisees became smaller men the more the Lord revealed His glory. In the raising of Lazarus they saw nothing of the glory of the resurrection life, nothing of the joy of the reunited family, nothing of the gracious ministry of the Lord! ”Darkness had blinded their eyes.”

And it is also the nemesis of bigotry to be bitter, cruel, and violent.

They sought to kill the Giver of life!

It is the ministry of light to ripen and sweeten the dispositions. ”The fruit of the light is in all goodness.” It is the ministry of the darkness to make men sour and unsympathetic, and revengeful, and to so pervert the heart as to make it a minister of poison and death.

And yet, how powerless is bigotry in the long run! It can no more stay the progress of the Kingdom than King Canute could check the flowing tide!

Bigotry slew the Lord, and He rose again! And so it ever is. ”Truth crushed to earth shall rise again; the eternal years of G.o.d are hers.”

MARCH The Seventeenth

_THE COMMONPLACE OF DEATH_

LUKE vii. 11-18.

Death is never a commonplace. We never become so accustomed to funerals as not to see them. Everybody sees the mournful procession go along the street. A momentary awe steals over the flippant thought, and for one brief season the superficial opens into the infinite abyss.

And yet, while a thousand are arrested, only a few are compa.s.sionate.

There can be awe without pity; there can be interest without service. When this humble funeral train trudged out of the city of Nain our Lord halted, and His heart melted! There was an ”aching void,” and He longed to fill it. There was a bleeding, broken heart, and He yearned to stand and heal it. He found His own joy in removing another's tears, His own satisfaction in another's peace.

”_The Lord hath visited His people!_” That is what the people said, and I do not wonder at the saying! And let me, too, be a humble visitor in the troubled ways of men! Let my heart be a well of sweet compa.s.sion to all the sons and daughters of grief! Like Barnabas, let me be ”a son of consolation.”

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