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7—ROUGH WATER
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THERE are no words of comfort like those that our Father speaks to us: When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee. We are called to go straight through the foaming river holding fast to this assurance.
And we look at the white water. There are potholes among the boulders where a foot might be caught and held; a sudden spate might easily overwhelm us; the spray half blind us; the noise deafen us. There is no human way no human hope; there is nothing to be seen but a boiling flood, boulders, snags, tossing spray; there is not one inch of smooth water anywhere. But the word of our God holds fast. It would be cowardice to fear. God save us from cowardice. “Be of good cheer, my brother; I feel the bottom, and it is good.”
But life can be terrific. Things can happen that seem to tear such words out of our mouth and drive them like dust before a hurricane. Look at that shattered life, that young life, and tell me of a God of mercy and pity—how can you?
Is to rack souls joy?
Does turn of screw make songs? or hammering
Of most unkindly fortune waken music?
Such hammers fall too heavily for that.
Those hammers fall on many hearts today; and only He whose prayer in Gethsemane began with the words, “O My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me,” can enable the soul of man in its extremity to continue that prayer as He continued it, and to end it as He ended it. There are times in life when the one Place in all the world where we can find what we are seeking is the Garden of Gethsemane.
From that garden it is only a few steps to a place which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha, where they crucified Him. Our questions are hushed there.
“If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross....Let him save himself, if he be Christ, the Chosen of God....If thou be Christ, save thyself and us....Let be, let us see whether Elias will come to save him.” If? Whether? And to all, silence in heaven above, in earth beneath. There was no vindication by God, no opening of the heavens, no Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting upon the Holy One, no Voice declaring, “This is My beloved Son.” And He, the blessed Sufferer, was silent—as a sheep before her shearers is dumb so He opened not His mouth to answer any question, till on an evening, as He walked along a country road with two troubled men, He said, Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into His glory?
That silence shames us. Cannot we, His foolish ones and blind, bid our restless questions be still awhile? It is only for a little while, for it is toward evening now, and the day is far spent. Soon, very soon we shall go in to tarry with Him. All our questions will be answered then. But in that day we shall ask Him nothing: “Ye shall ask Me no question,” so He has told us. Perhaps because we shall have forgotten our questions. One look in His face, and like the dew that has seen the sun those questions will have vanished. Vanished as a cloud in the blue that is as though it had never been.