Then the disciples went away again unto their own home. 11But Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping: and as she wept, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre, 12And seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. 13And they say unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? She saith unto them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him. 14And when she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. 15Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away. 16Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master. 17Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God. 18Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and that he had spoken these things unto her. 19Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you.
—John 20:10-19
Bereavement is the sharpest arrow in the quiver of God. Coming at a moment unexpected, it enters the heart and makes every fiber of the frame to quiver. Here all human consolation fails. Sweet as human sympathy is at all times, God has fixed a limit to it, beyond which it cannot pass. He has reserved to Himself the prerogative of administering sympathy to the bereaved heart. Only at His feet can the bleeding wounds be staunched. Only on the bosom of Jesus can the throbbing heart find rest. Every other cistern is a broken one.
This is the lesson taught us in this narrative. Its opening words fall solemnly, but truthfully, upon us. “Then the disciples went away again unto their own home. But Mary stood without at the sepulcher weeping.” While others have their homes, whither they repair and find a resting place, the bereaved heart has, for a time, its only home in the sepulcher. There its fondest earthly treasure has been laid to rest. It may be drawn out for a time, by the pressure of daily duties, or by the necessities and requirements of daily life; but when these are over it returns, like a broken bow, in thought and affection, to the lonely churchyard or to the green sod beneath which the remains of some loved one is sleeping. In the midst of worldly thoughts, the social circle or the ordinary conversation, the bereaved heart—stooping down and looking into this sepulcher—weeping in secret, though the outside seems all fair.
Thus it was with Mary. Let us not blame those tears, but “weep with them that weep.” What if faith was weak and her thoughts should have been on a living Saviour, instead of being concentrated in that silent grave: is our faith always strong under the crushing blow? Does not a bleeding heart, crowding thoughts and a fevered brain struggle fitfully with the faith within us and sometimes wellnigh extinguish its light? Can faith be always calm under the pressure of a heart ready to burst? Let us mingle our tears with those of the Son of God, as we stand at the grave sides of Bethany. The joyous voice, “I am the resurrection, and the life,” shall Surely find its way to the secret springs of that heart, and restore peace and joy. In the meantime let us, “Bear ye one another’s burdens,” remembering that sooner or later the crushing stroke must fall on our own hearts. Let us “fulfil the law of Christ.” by taking some of that load, for we cannot take it all, upon ourselves. So shall we be a blessing to the mourner amid the desolation which reigns around.
But what did Mary weep for? for the dead body. The cold clay corpse she would have clasped to her heart. The dust was precious in her sight. But why weep and look into that sepulcher? Why weep we so bitterly at our grave sides? Our beloved treasure is not there. The body may be, but the treasure is with the living Saviour. “Absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.” The treasure—the living Saviour—was outside that sepulcher from the moment Mary came to it. So it is with us. From the moment we are called to stand at the grave side of some loved one, the treasure is outside. Where is it? Do we want to know? Behold the living Saviour! It is with Him. Seeing Him, we see our loved one. “And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”—“Because I live, ye shall live also.” The life of the corn begins just when death has overpowered the seed. So it is with our departed ones. In the last struggle of the failing tabernacle lies the germ of that life which shall last forever. The spirit is with Jesus. We saw it not in its passage from the hushed chamber. The eye can see only material things; spirit alone can see spirit. It passed upward with a bound and quicker than electric speed was in the presence of God. Spirit meets with no obstacle in matter. In its very nature it is independent of it. How we may thus be surrounded by these spirits none can tell. Not till our own spirit is released from the prison in which it is bound can we recognize our fellow spirits who have passed on before us. These are mysterious subjects. We cannot solve them nor is it necessary. Sufficient, abundantly sufficient for us, that the spirits of the blood bought ones are “with Christ; which is far better.” Believer, repose on this! It is only for a little while and that body so familiar to you, so vividly before your eye, shall arise from its silent resting place, whether in the ashes of Smithfield, amid the sands of the desert, beneath the monumental stone or down in the watery deep. Soon thou shalt clasp it again to your heart, with no hidden disease, no wasted cheek, no feverish gasping, no taint of tears, sorrow or sin. In patience possess thy soul. Jesus will soon be here and with Him thy fondly cherished treasure. “Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”
But death has no victory over the Lord’s sleeping ones. Where their dust lies, there is victory graven with the pen of heaven. Behold it here at this sepulcher! Though the treasure is not there, there is something very glorious. Angels, the messengers of heaven, are in that sepulcher. There they sit, in an attitude of triumph. They proclaim the victory over death. They seem to say to all who weep for them which sleep in Jesus, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” Surely they speak to us with the same voice. There is victory and triumph in our sepulchers; heaven’s victory, heaven’s triumph, heaven’s repose.
Angels can say, “why weepest thou?” but they can go no further. Only Jesus can speak the word, “Mary,” that shall heal the desolate heart. Yet how quickly, Jesus can do it. He has only to speak one word, and the mourner’s tears are dry and the heart leaps up in gladness. Oh, reader, think of this! Go to Jesus, to Jesus only, with thy sorrow. That sorrow, is too deep for human ministry. Even angels are but broken cisterns. Oh, try Jesus! Deal very closely with Him. There unfold again and again thy oft-told tale. He will not weary of it, though thy nearest and dearest may. Oh, try Jesus! See how soon He can gladden the desolate heart. Prove His all sufficiency, His wondrous love, His tenderness and pity! There is none like Jesus! Lean on that bosom, dear suffering friend, then will you wonder why you did not go before; then will you marvel you should so long have carried that load which is now sinking you beneath its weight. Oh, try Jesus!
“Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.” There is a point in all sorrow, which if we pass, that sorrow, however sacred, becomes sin. That point Mary had now reached. Mark the climax. First she came to the sepulcher with tears in her eyes, and again and again stooped down and looked within. Next she exclaims in agony, “they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.” But now that agony is at its height. The heart is ready to burst. She cries out, in the wildness of her grief, “Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.” The point is reached. One step beyond, and all sorrow is sin. If God’s child is to be spared, He must now interfere. At this point the Lord steps in. He cries “Mary.” Why does He call her thus suddenly by her name-to draw away her heart and thoughts from the sepulcher to the living Saviour. This is always the Lord’s call. He is ever so speaking as to call us away from our sepulchers to the living Saviour. It is as if He would say: gaze not down into those gloomy depths too long. Let not sorrow blind your eyes to a living Saviour. Look not there, but here. “I am he that liveth,” I have your treasure. Look to me. Dear Christian mourner, remember this. There is a point in all sorrow, which if you pass, it becomes sin. What point is that? The point reached by Mary in this narrative—when sorrow blinds the eyes to a living Saviour. He was before her, but she could not see Him for her tears. Oh, dear fellow sufferer, let not this be thy case! Sorrow, but “sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.” Weep, but not so that your tears hinder you from gazing upon a living Saviour at your side. “She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni” Now Mary’s back is on the sepulcher, and her face towards Jesus. Oh, blessed leading of God’s hand! May all our sorrows bring us there! Precious sorrow, that leads us to gaze upon Jesus! Precious trial, that ends in bringing us to his feet!
In the surge of feeling consequent on recognizing the Saviour, Mary would have rushed forward to embrace Him. “Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father.” We may learn a precious truth here. The Saviour would teach us that when in heaven He could be touched more powerfully, more effectually on our behalf; that heaven’s sympathy, heaven’s comfort, heaven’s succor, are far more valuable, more effectual, than those of earth or of mere natural affection. Come to me when I am ascended. Touch me at the mercyseat. There will you find a Father’s bosom to lean upon, a Father’s hand to dry your tears, a Father’s arm clasped around you. This will be more blessed to you than, in the outburst of natural affection, embracing me on earth. He would thus show us that though earthly affection and sympathy are sweet, there is a loving sympathy on high sweeter than it all. Oh, dear afflicted one, forget it not! Thy nearest, thy dearest, thy truest Friend is on high. The devoted love of a mother, a wife, a husband, a child, is nothing compared with His. Make Him everything to thee. Take Him into the first place in thy heart. Let not the dearest earthly treasure come between thee and Jesus. Thou wilt find Him always true, always faithful, always at hand. Jesus is so precious in sorrow’s hour. Oh, try Him, and see how His dear presence can make a heaven for thy soul in the midst of thy deep desolation of spirit!
“But go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God. Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and that he had spoken these things unto her.” Two precious truths are presented to us here. “Go to my brethren” says the Saviour. The love of Mary to the Saviour was intense. He shows us in these words what direction such love should ever take. It should prove its true character by being shown—to the brethren. Do you so love me? Then go and show it to my brethren. Comfort their weeping hearts with the joyous news that I am risen from the dead. The same truth is presented to us in the chapter following this. “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these…Feed my lambs.”—“go to my brethren” Thus will you show that you love me.
The other truth presented to us is a practical one. What is God’s end in sending trial? His strokes have a meaning. Each one has a gracious, loving, and wise purpose. None are purposeless. Let us never think so. They are to quicken us in the heavenward race, to stir us up to more watchfulness, more earnestness, more heavenliness. This is the legitimate effect of all trial. Now for a swifter race, said one of old, on whom God’s hand had been heavily laid. “Go to my brethren” said the Saviour, and “Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord.” There was no longer the brooding in sorrow at the sepulcher. All was now earnestness and energy, an eager pressing forward with the glad news, a vessel filled with that joy which only the sight of a living Saviour can give, a precious messenger with a glorious message on her lips, coming fresh from an overflowing heart and drying the tears of a weeping church. These are the blessed effects of the strokes of heaven on our hearts. Now, for a swifter race! Mourner at the sepulcher think of this. Stay not brooding in sorrow at that cheerless vault. Up and work for God with renewed energy and zeal. Get nearer to Jesus. Ask him to fill the emptied vessel with His glory. Ask Him to unbind every tie that has bound thee to a dying world. Ask Him to send thee forth to the weeping ones on every side of thee with whispers of comfort that shalt lift them nearer to Him. Linger not, “as others which have no hope,” over the sleeping dust of thy loved one. It shall soon be here again, in a form far more bright and lovely than ever thou hast gazed upon it on earth; meanwhile onward, upward, heavenward, homeward, nearer and nearer to Jesus! Now for a swifter race! Now for a holier walk with God! Now for a more earnest pressing toward the mark for the prize! Up and work for God in a way thou hast never done yet! The time is very short. The days are all numbered. The Lord is on the way. Hearest thou not the sound of His chariot wheels in the distance? Up, speak, write, and warn the world! Let none pass by thee without the Master’s warning. Let no blood of souls rest on thy head. Let no voice cry out at the bar of God that thou hast been unfaithful to thy solemn trust. Let not fear, or sloth, or sin dim the brightness of that crown which shall be placed that day on thy brow. O Lord of light, and love, and mercy, speak to the mourner’s heart; speak, and let that heart hear thy solemn message, for Jesus Christ’s sake!
I shine in the light of God;
His likeness stamps my brow;
Through the valley of death my feet have trod,
And I reign in glory now!
No breaking heart is here,
No keen and thrilling pain,
No wasted cheek, where the frequent tear
Hath rolled and left its stain.
I have reached the joys of heaven;
I am one of the sainted band;
For my head a crown of gold is given,
And a harp is in my hand.
I have learned the song they sing
Whom Jesus has set free,
And the glorious walls of heaven still ring
With my new-born melody.
No sin, no grief, no pain;
Safe in my happy home;
My fears all fled, my doubts all slain,
My hour of triumph’s come!
Oh! friends of mortal years,
The trusted and the true
Ye are watching still in the valley of tears,
But I’ll wait to welcome you.
Do I forget? Oh, no!
For memory’s golden chain
Shall bind my heart to the hearts below,
Till they meet and touch again.
Each link is strong and bright:
And love’s electric flame
Flows freely down, like a river of light,
To the world from whence I came.
Do you mourn when another star
Shines out from the glittering sky?
Do you weep when the raging voice of war
And the storms of conflict die?
Then why should your tears run down,
And your hearts be sorely riven,
For another gem in the Saviour’s crown,
And another soul in heaven?
Views: 0
