THE MOURNER'S COMFORT
"Your brother shall rise again!"
Martha's tearful utterances are now met with an exalted
solace. "Your brother shall rise again." It is the first time
her Lord has spoken. She now once more hears those well-remembered tones
which were last listened to, when life was all bright, and her home all
happy. It is the self-same consolation which steals still, like celestial
music, to the smitten heart, when every chord of earthly gladness ceases to
vibrate. And it is befitting too that Jesus should utter it. He alone
is qualified to do so. The words spoken to the bereaved one of Bethany are
words purchased by His own atoning work. "Your brother—your sister—your
friend, shall rise again!"
This brief oracle of comfort was addressed, in the first
instance, especially to Martha. It had a primary reference,
doubtless, to the vast miracle which was on the eve of performance. But
there were more hearts to comfort and souls to cheer than one; that Almighty
Savior had at the moment throngs of other bereaved ones in view;
myriads on myriads of aching, bleeding spirits who could not, like the
Bethany mourner, rush into His visible presence for consolation and
peace. He expands, therefore, for their sakes the sublime and exalted solace
which He ministers to her. And in words which have carried their echoes of
hope and joy through all time, He exclaims—"I am the resurrection and the
life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies!"
If Bethany had bequeathed no other "memory" than this,
how its name would have been embalmed in hallowed recollection! Truly these
two brief verses are as apples of gold in baskets of silver. "Jesus, the
Resurrection and the Life." Himself conquering death, He has conquered it
for His people—opening the kingdom of heaven to all believers.
The full grandeur of that Bethany utterance could not be
appreciated by her to whom it was first spoken. His death and resurrection
was still, even to His nearest disciples, a profound mystery. Little did
that trembling spirit, who was now gazing on her living Lord with tearful
eye, dream that in a few brief days the grave was to hold Him, also,
as its captive; and that guardian angels were to proclaim words which would,
to Martha, have been all enigma and strangeness, "The Lord is risen!"
With us it is different. The mighty deed has been
completed. "Christ has died; yes, rather has risen again!" The resurrection
and revival of Lazarus was a marvelous act, but it was only the rekindling
of a little star that had ceased to twinkle in the firmament. A week
more—and Martha would witness the Great Sun of all undergoing
an eclipse; in a mysterious moment veiled and shrouded in darkness and
blood; and then all at once coming forth like a Bridegroom from his chamber
to shine the living and luminous center of ransomed millions!
Christians! we can turn now aside and see this great
sight—death closing the lips of the Lord of life—a borrowed grave containing
the tenantless body of the Creator of all worlds! Is death to hold that
prey? Is the grave to retain in gloomy custody that immaculate frame?
Is His living temple to lie there an inglorious ruin, like other crumbling
wrecks of mortality? The question of our eternal life or eternal death was
suspended on the reply! If death succeeds in chaining down the illustrious
Victim, our hopes of everlasting life are gone forever. In vain can these
dreary portals of death be ever again unbarred for the children of fallen
humanity. Jesus has gone there as their surety-Savior. If His suretyship be
accepted—if He meet and fulfill all the requirements of an outraged law, the
gates of the dismal prison-house of death will, and must be
opened.
If, on the other hand, there is any flaw or deficiency in
His person or work as the Kinsman-Redeemer, then no power can snap the
chains which bind Him; the tomb will refuse to surrender what it has in
custody; the hopes of His people must perish along with Him! Golgotha
must then become the grave of a world's hopes!
But the stone has been rolled away. The grave-clothes are
all that are left as trophies of the conqueror. Angels are seated in the
vacant tomb to verify with their gladdening assurance His own Bethany
oracle, "The Lord has risen indeed!" "He is indeed the resurrection and the
life; he that lives and believes on Him shall never die!"
Yes! however many be the comforting thoughts which
cluster around the grave of Lazarus, grander still is it to gather, as Jesus
Himself here bids us, around His own tomb, and to gaze on His own
resurrection scene! It was the most eventful morning of all time. It will be
the focus point of the Church's hope and triumph through all eternity.
"The Lord is risen indeed!" It proclaimed the atonement
complete, sin pardoned, mediation accepted, the law satisfied, God
glorified! "The Lord is risen indeed!" It proclaimed resurrection and life
for His people—life (the forfeited gift of life) now repurchased. That
mighty victor rose not for Himself, but as the representative and pledge of
countless multitudes, who exult in His death as their life—in His
resurrection as the pledge and guarantee of their everlasting safety—"I am
He who lives," and "because I live you shall live also."
Anticipating His own glorious rising, He might well speak
to Martha, standing before Him as the representative of weeping,
sinful, woe-worn humanity, "He who lives and believes on Me shall never
die." "In Me, death is no longer death; it is only a parenthesis in
life—a transition to a loftier stage of being. In Me, the grave is
the vestibule of heaven, the dressing-room of immortality!"
Reader, yours is the same strong consolation. "Believe,"
"Only believe" in that risen Lord. He has purchased all, paid
all, procured all! Look into that vacant tomb; see sin cancelled,
guilt blotted out, the law magnified, justice honored, the sinner saved!
Yes, and more than that, as you see Death's conqueror
marching forth clothed with immortal victory, you see Him not alone!
He is heading and heralding a multitude which no man can number. Himself the
victorious prototype, He is showing to these exulting thousands "the path of
life." He tells them to dread neither for themselves, or others, that
lonesome tomb. The curse is extracted from it; the envenomed sting
is plucked away. In passing through its lonesome chambers they may exult in
the thought that a mightier than they has sanctified it by His own presence,
and transformed what was once a gloomy portico into a triumphal arch,
bearing the inscription, "O death, I will be your plague; O grave, I will be
your destruction!"