Chapter 5: PRIMER LESSONS
Chapter 5: PRIMER LESSONS
Mark 1:21-39
"Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear!
Each sufferer says his say, his end of the weal and woe;
But God has a few of us whom He whispers in the ear;
The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know!"
— Browning.
THE EPHESIAN CHURCH was reminded by the Apostle of having been taught by the Lord Himself, "as the truth is in Jesus." It is therefore of extreme interest to study the earliest lessons with which our Lord commenced to prepare Peter and his friends for their life-work. Every one who desires to be a soul-winner should sit in this lowest form in the Master's school.
THE FIRST LESSON WAS THAT ASSOCIATION WITH HIMSELF WOULD INEVITABLY INVOLVE THEM IN SPIRITUAL WARFARE. -It befell thus. On what was not improbably the first Sabbath after their final resolve to identify themselves with Jesus, the little group of fishermen, whose action was widely discussed all round the lake, giving them a considerable amount of notoriety, accompanied Him to the usual synagogue service.
When the customary exercises were concluded, their Leader and Friend was invited to address the congregation, and as He proceeded in words of spirit and life to unfold the mysteries of the kingdom, the sharp contrast between His address and the dull deliverances of the Scribes to which they were accustomed struck them with astonishment. The contrast was as marked as between the sparkle of a waterfall and the stagnant water of a pit. "He taught them as one that had authority." Their hearts and consciences answered back with an echoing response.
The hush of the enthralled assembly was suddenly broken by the cry of a man's voice. It seemed as though a captive and unwilling soul was made the organ of an alien and compelling spirit. "Let us alone," was the demand. "What have we to do with Thee, Jesus of Nazareth? I know Thee who Thou art." This unclean spirit, or demon, may have tenanted that man's body and mind for years, unsuspected by his most intimate associates. But the near presence of the Divine Holiness, though curtained by the unrent veil of His flesh, extorted an involuntary but irresistible outcry. An inflamed eye may cause no special torture so long as it is screened from daylight, but expose it to a ray of meridian sunshine, and the anguish is too great to be endured. Ah! what will the unclean soul do when suddenly confronted in the other world by a glory before which tmfallen seraphim veil their faces with their wings!
The disturbance caused by that wailing cry from the abyss must have been very startling. The man may, up to that moment, have been regarded as a respectable member of society. No one suspected the duality of his nature; but Peter must have suddenly realized that the type of character, for which his Master stood, dominated as it was by the Spirit of God, and essentially holy, must discover, arouse, and call into hostility the whole kingdom of evil spirits, which Christ afterwards described as the gates of hell, or Hades. The warfare for which he had enlisted was not against flesh and blood, but against the wicked spirits that rule the darkness of this world.
It was an infinite relief to know that his Lord was equal to the emergency. When He bade the unclean spirit to hold his peace and come out of this tormented nature, it could do no other than obey, though he convulsed his victim with malignant rage and cried again with a loud unearthly voice. The disciples shared in the general amazement, but they saw clearly — and our Lord was thankful that they realized — the necessity of a new apparatus of spiritual equipment.
The weapons of their warfare would have to be spiritual, not carnal, or they would not be mighty enough to pull down these strongholds or emancipate the captives who all their life-time had been subject to bondage.
The scene in that synagogue gave Peter food for profound thought. He realized, as when a lightning flash illumines a midnight landscape, that there was a vast underworld of evil spirits — some of them probably fallen angels, and some wandering stars for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever. He realized also that these would be violently perturbed, if any attempt were made to rescue their victims; that they had had some previous experience of the Lord in a state of existence known only to them and Him; that they were constrained to bear witness to His superlative Holiness; that they knew it must destroy them when the hour was struck by the clock of destiny; that, however much they strove against it, they could not resist His power; and that their one delight was to deceive and torture men.
It was not difficult for Peter to understand the effect produced on them by the Lord's Purity. He also had cried, only a few hours before, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." But all his fear had passed, since he had yielded his will to obey and submitted to Christ's undisputed authority. The destruction which the demon feared, in the disciple's case had wrought only for the destruction of the power of sin. The presence of Jesus for him and his brethren now meant joy unspeakable and full of glory. Thus he was being prepared to hear the Master say: "Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out demons. . . . Behold I give you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you."
THE SECOND LESSON WAS THE NEED FOR GENTLENESS IN MINISTRY. — Peter was strong, forceful, vehement.
His voice would be loud, his tread heavy. His touch was not gentle enough for straightening bruised reeds.
A considerable amount of training would have to be expended on him before he could commend, as he does in his epistles, compassion, pitifulness, and courtesy.
It was necessary for him to taste that the Lord was gracious and to become clothed with that meek and quiet spirit, which is of great price (i Pet. ii. 3; iii. 4, 8). The first lesson in this art was given in his own home.
After the amazing scene witnessed in the synagogue the Lord accepted the invitation of Peter and Andrew to come to the home, which they occupied in common, for rest and refreshment. James and John were included in the invitation. Probably some suggestion of this had been made previously, and the women of the household had been busily occupied in preparing. However, when the guests reached the door of the fishermen's home Peter's wife was on the outlook, and taking him aside hurriedly whispered that her mother was down with "a great fever." She was lying on a couch in the inner chamber, with a dangerously high temperature. It may have been induced by her excitement to do all honour to their Guest. To outward appearance it was an unfortunate incident to occur on such a day!
But untoward incidents, in the hand of Christ, become radiant memories.
"They told Him of her." Luke says that "they besought Him for her." But next to the marvel of her immediate recovery, so that she was able to take her part in ministering, they wondered at the tender gentleness with which the Master touched her hand, took her by the hand, and, as Peter subsequently dictated to Mark, raised her up. How little he realized that in after years he would do the same for a lame man on the Temple steps, and for the beloved Dorcas at Joppa.
The world needs tenderness as well as strength.
Probably strength is never perfected until it is tender.
The danger of modern philanthropy is that it does everything by rule and measure, in precise and strict adherence to a prescribed code, leaving no time or energy for the spontaneous workings of Christly tenderness. It is needed to touch the bleared eye of the blind, the seared flesh of the leper, and the feverish hand of a fever-stricken mother. Lives are blighted, homes are wrecked, and bright young hopes withered, for want of tenderness. But the child's hymn addressed to Jesus as the tender shepherd is exact in its epithet. He takes the lambs in His arms and carries them in His bosom, and gently leads those that are with young. Rockmen must combine tenderness and strength.
THE THIRD LESSON WAS A GLIMPSE INTO THE ANGUISH OF THE WORLD. — It had for long lain heavy on the Master's heart, and was a constant incentive to the forth-putting of the saving strength of His right hand. Nothing less could sustain His disciples, and especially Peter, in all future trials and disappointments.
It was therefore arranged that the fronts should be taken off the households of this one city, that their compassion might be moved by the vision of the anguish of a single community, although in fair and prosperous surroundings. All that were diseased and possessed, together with their agonized friends, were gathered at sunset in the humble street where Peter lived. He could not have believed that so vast a mass of misery and pain was concealed so near his home; but it was easier to pass from that heart-breaking spectacle to plumb the fathomless anguish of the world. The veil, which never intercepts the view from God, but which is drawn before our eyes lest life should be insupportable, was lifted for a few hours on that Sabbath evening whilst the stars came out one by one to watch sadly in heaven's vault.
The world is not all bad and sorrowful. Love, health, family life, children's laughter, the sweetness of living, must be valued at their true worth; but behind doors and windows there is a heavy makeweight of pain; and we need to know it, that, as with our Lord, so with His servants, we may sigh, as we look up, and say Ephphatha.
In the days of Esther none might enter the Persian court clothed in sackcloth. That is where kings go wrong. They refuse to recognize the sorrow and suffering which breed discontent and revolt. They insist that their papers shall be censored, and that all allusions to the sombre aspects of life shall be obliterated. No over-blown petals on their lawns, no dead birds in the woods, no lepers on the streets through which their chariot passes. "Sing songs," they cry, "clash cymbals, on with the dance, let mirth be unrestrained, give us unending pleasures, unsated amusement." So they have spoken, but foot by foot their throne has been compelled to give place to the ever-encroaching tide.
Not thus was it with the Lord. Whether it was a single leper or a crowd, He was always moved with compassion in the presence of human need. When Jesus beheld the multitudes, we are told, He was moved with compassion, because they fainted and were scattered abroad. We must needs learn this lesson, if we would win souls. The first, second, and third prerequisite for life-work, such as angels did for Lot and his family at the gates of Sodom, is to be filled with the merciful compassion that filled their hearts. The broken heart breaks and heals hearts!
The greatest of soul winners in any age avowed that he travailed in birth for his converts, and was willing to be accursed from Christ for his kinsmen according to the flesh. A speculum of ice may focus sunrays to a burning point, but cold hearts are not used of God to win lost souls. He preaches best who loves most.
The height of the Nile on the Nilometer indicates the extent of the flood over the arid plains of Egypt and the subsequent abundance or failure of the harvest. If we are content to labour without conversions, we need not expect any. But if our soul breaketh with longing, or we can cry with Rebekah, "Give me children or I die," the answer will not tarry long. Blessed are they that hunger and thirst, for they shall be satisfied. Give us Thy tears, O Christ, as we behold the city! "Oh that mine eyes were fountains of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!"
THE FOURTH LESSON WAS AS TO THE SOURCE OF POWER. — In the early morning the household sought for their beloved and honoured guest, but the chamber was empty. In vain they searched the house. Where was He? The inquiry and search become general.
"All men seek for Thee!" Perhaps a fisherman, who had returned at dawn from a night's fishing, informed them that he had met Him on the path that led to the silent hills above the town. Further up the slope a shepherd, who was preparing to lead his flock to the upland pastures, would indicate the sheltered dimple of the hillside, v/here the awestruck search-party beheld the Master's kneeling or prostrate form. He had risen a great while before day and departed into a solitary place, where He prayed.
He could cast out demons and heal a crowd of sick folk, but (speaking after the manner of men) he was conscious of the expenditure of spiritual force. "He perceived that virtue had gone out of Him." His human nature required to be re-charged. Better leave some of the city-woe unredressed than forfeit that recharging. Peter and his fellow disciples were destined to witness that spectacle many a time afterwards, until one day, when he ceased praying, one of them said: "Lord, teach us to pray."
Peter never forgot his Master's prayer habit, and he clearly determined to follow in those blessed footsteps.
Pentecost came to him and the rest because they continued with one accord in prayer and supplication.
The Sanhedrin was powerless to hurt because the whole company lifted up their voice to God with one accord.
Prayer opened his way from his prison cell on the eve of execution. The vision of the Gentile world, cleansed and sanctified, was given as he prayed on the roof of the tanner's house.
Brethren, let us pray. Sisters, get on the mountaintop and hold us up by your prayers, as we go down into the valley to fight. John Wesley tells his preachers that their prime business is to win souls, and that only through unwearied labour and perseverance can they be free from the blood of all men, and he ends thus: "Why are we not more holy? Why do we not live for eternity and walk with God all the day long? Do we rise at four or five in the morning to be alone with God? Do we recommend and observe the five o'clock hour for prayer at the close of the day? Let us fulfil our ministry."