The Unexpected Christ
by LOUIS ALBERT BANKS (1855-1933) Christ still comes to his disciples in unexpected places. He will come to us where we are and when we need him.
"Jesus himself drew near, and went with them." —Luke 24:15
Most Bible-readers have taken it for granted that both of these two disciples of Christ who were taking this walk to Emmaus and to whom Christ paid this unexpected visit were men. Only one of them is named — Cleopas. Mr. Moody has recently raised a question which is new to me, but which seems to me to be very well sustained, suggesting that the disciple not named was Mary, the wife of Cleopas. John tells us that one of the three Marys who remained at the cross after the crucifixion of Jesus was Mary the wife of Cleopas, and I agree with Mr. Moody that it does not seem at all probable that Cleopas would go off into the country seven or eight miles and leave his wife in the city in the perilous times in the midst of which the disciples found themselves after the trial and crucifixion of Christ. It seems, therefore, very reasonable to suppose that these two disciples mentioned were Cleopas and Mary, the uncle and aunt of Jesus.
These two near relatives and friends of Christ evidently had their home at Emmaus, and in this sad trial which had come to them in the death of one whom they had loved all his life, and whom during the last few years they had come to trust as their Redeemer and Lord, it was very natural that they should go to their home. "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home"; and especially is this true in a time of sorrow. The curiosity of the world is very trying then, and one longs to get home, where he may be free from prying eyes and questioning tongues.
As they walked along the way they were talking over all the strange and wonderful events connected with the trial and crucifixion of the Saviour, dwelling on little details, no doubt, as one will, concerning a great tragedy which leaves the soul stunned and in awe. All their hopes were buried in the tomb, and the glory of the Easter truth had not yet illuminated their hearts. As they thus walked and talked, their attitude as well as their words showing the sorrow which depressed them, a stranger drew near and joined them.
He who appeared to Mary Magdalene in the garden in the form of a gardener, to Abraham as a traveler, and to Joshua as a soldier, appeared to these disciples as some strange teacher, some wise rabbi, passing through the land. They did not know it was the Christ about whom they were sorrowing. A sure way to find Christ is to talk about him to another friend who loves him with the same tenderness as ourselves. The promise of his presence where two or three are gathered never fails. We rob ourselves of a great deal of Christian joy by hiding in our hearts, so often, the longing, hungry thoughts we have about Jesus. If we would talk more with each other concerning him our experience would be sweeter and richer.
Christ still comes to his disciples in unexpected places. It is not necessarily in the church that we shall find him, but wherever we need him and our longing hearts cry out for him we may expect him. He has not deserted his world. He visits the market-place now as in the days of old, and even a tax-collector may know his presence as did Zacchseus or Matthew. He does not fail to pause in sympathy where the unfortunate are, and blind men and poor may yet hear the sympathetic call of him who stopped on the road to Jericho to open the eyes of blind Bartimseus. He who was the fishermen's friend by the little Sea of Galilee, and who liked to go fishing with Peter and John, and watch them as they mended their nets, will not scorn the docks or the fishing-boats of our own time.
The Carpenter of Nazareth has not forgotten his brethren of the hammer and the saw. In all the common ways of life where men toil and dig, where they bargain and trade, where they feast or faint, where they rejoice at the wedding or mourn at the funeral, Christ is still in his world, and hearts going out after him in loving memory may not be surprised to find him coming to walk with them by the way. They may not always know who he is until he is gone, for that many times happens to us, but afterwards looking back we know that it was the Christ.
The presence of Christ communing with us, causing our hearts to burn with gladness, fills the Scriptures with meaning and makes the Bible yield treasures that on other days we would not find. You might bring me a basket of minerals from the Klondike, and looking at them I would know that here and there a specimen contained gold, because I could see occasional points of a yellow tinge; but many other light and dark points I would not understand. But let a metallurgist glance at the specimens and he would not only know that they contained gold, but silver and lead and iron, and could indicate each metal. So to a man untaught of the Spirit the Bible will have here and there a hint of golden treasures, but when he comes under the teaching of Christ he sees revealed on every side riches before undreamed of. "There are promises in God's Word that no man has ever tried to find; treasures of gold and silver in it that no man has ever taken the pains to dig for. There are medicines in it for the want of a knowledge of which hundreds have died."
Mr. Beecher once said that the Bible seemed to him like some baronial estate that has descended to a man who lives in a modern house and thinks it scarcely worth while to go and look into the venerable mansion. Year after year passes away, and he pays no attention to it, since he has no suspicion of the valuable treasures it contains, till at last some man says to him, "Have you been up in the country to look at that estate ?" He makes up his mind that be will take a look at it. As he goes through the porch he is surprised to see the skill that has been displayed in its construction ; he is more and more impressed as he goes through the halls. He enters a large room, and is astonished as he beholds the wealth of pictures upon the walls, among which are portraits of many of his revered ancestors. He stands in amazement before them. There are splendid paintings by Titian and Raphael, and Correggio. He says, "I never had any idea of these before." "Ah !" says the steward, " there is many another thing that you know nothing about in this castle; and the keeper takes him from room to room, and shows him carved plate, and wonderful statues, until the owner exclaims, "Here I have been for twenty years the owner of this estate, and have never before known what things were in it!"
But there never was such an estate as God's Word. There are no such halls of paintings as those found in the Old Testament Scriptures. There are no such treasure-vaults of golden wisdom as may be found in its Proverbs; no such libraries of poetry as in the Psalms and the Book of Job. No wonder Cleopas and Mary remembered afterwards and said to each other, "Did not our heart burn within us, while he opened unto us the Scriptures," for he began at Moses and came along down over the high plateaus of prophetic uplands, and set a blazing torch on the hill-tops where Moses, and David, and Isaiah and Daniel had foretold his own coming. To their astonishment the Old Testament Scriptures revealed a highway, lighted with the flame of prophetic light all the way from the beginning of Genesis, that led ever onward toward their own time and to the Messiah who had been their Leader. Christ will open the Scriptures like that to us when we meditate on him and on them.
The sweetest touch in the story is where they reach the home of Cleopas and his wife, and Jesus, who has not yet revealed himself to them, makes as if he would go on. We cannot doubt that he would have done so if they in their keen interest had not urged him to remain. Christ will not force his love upon us. It is ever the characteristic of a great love that it wishes to be desired and appreciated. But they constrained him to remain with them to their evening meal.
I think with Mr. Moody that this is another indication of the fact that it was indeed Cleopas and his wife, and not two men who were only friends stopping at the same place. A husband and his wife together might naturally give an urgent invitation to a stranger whose company had been so precious to them, and in the light of whose conversation their great sorrow had passed away and hope had taken its place. And while the evening meal is being prepared Christ talks with them, and after a while, when it is ready, he breaks bread with them, and tenderly blesses it, and in that act of worship he is revealed to their hearts and they know it is their risen Lord whose fellowship has given them such great joy.
Let us not fail to learn this great lesson: If you would come to know Christ as your risen Lord and Saviour you must not only meet him on the highway of human life, and listen to his conversation, and be moved to admiration at the charm of his presence, but you must constrain him to come home with you into your inner heart experience. If you constrain him to enter into that fellowship of soul he will not only charm you with his conversation, but he will dispel your sorrows, pardon your sins, and transform your life into his own likeness. No doubt I speak to some one who needs just this appeal. You have heard of Christ many times, your heart has been drawn out to him in admiration, and you do not hesitate to admit that among all the names in history his is the fairest and the noblest. But all your meetings with him have been, as it were, upon the highway. You have never invited Christ into the temple of your own heart and home. Only in that way can you really come to know him and realize his power to save.
A minister in Philadelphia preached on a recent Sunday evening on "The Greed of Cold." He called special attention to the fact that at the bottom of most of the institutions of our land which hurt rather than help is the desire for wealth. Among other things he mentioned the liquor traffic. Early the next morning there came into this minister's study a fine-looking, intelligent man about forty years old. As he entered the room, before giving his name or telling his mission, he spoke thus, earnestly and nervously: "Is it better for a man to sell liquor or starve?" This was his story : He was the traveling representative for a large distillery in another city. In the interest of this business, for which he had been successfully soliciting for years, he came to Philadelphia. He had gone to the church with another commercial traveler on Sunday evening, and the minister's sermon had been an arrow from the quiver of God straight to his heart. He left the church, went back to the hotel, sent that very night a letter to the firm for which he was traveling, and whose remuneration for his services was generous, resigning his position and saying that he could no longer conscientiously represent them. "And," said the manly man before he left the minister, "last night I slept with a sense of peace and security such as I have not enjoyed for years. I have no prospect for a new position, but upon this I am determined: I shall starve before I sell another drop of liquor. God help me!" At noon the next day the minister was in conversation with one of the leading business men of his church, to whom he told this story. Immediately upon hearing it the merchant said, "I am in need of just such a man." In less than twenty-four hours he was in an honorable position with a good salary, illustrating the words of Christ: " Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you."
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