The Other Side.

LET US PASS OVER UNTO THE OTHER SIDE. Mark 4:35.

The facts and incidents in the history of our blessed Lord which the Holy Ghost has seen fit to preserve and hand down to us through the evangelists, furnish us materials for instruction and profitable meditation. The gospel is not all didactic; nor need the religious discourse be wholly such. It is well at times to omit the carefully framed propositions of a systematic theology, and dwell upon the simple narratives of the New Testament not merely as naked facts, but as pleasing allegories, or reflections of spiritual things. May we not read this narrative with such a purpose? As we follow the disciples in their night expedition across the sea of Galilee, may we not have suggested to our minds the Christian’s course through the voyage of life towards the distant, unseen shore of eternity? Let us carry this idea with us while we study the parts of this simple, but graphic narrative of the evangelist.

1. It was at the call and command of Christ the disciples embarked upon their expedition. “Let us pass over unto the other side.” There is no intimation that they had planned the journey, or had thought of leaving Capernaum before; but they took their departure solely in obedience to the direction of their Master. They acknowledged his authority; they trusted in his wisdom. Their faith and confidence in him prompted them to do his bidding; and without questioning the reasons of his orders, they at once loosed from the harbor and set their sails, outward bound, for the other side.

It is even so with the believer when he forsakes the world of sin and vanity, and sets out on a Christian life. He hears a call from God, like that which Abraham heard when he left his country and his kinsmen for another land which God would show him. The invitations and commands of Christ prompt him to give up the world. Were it not for such a call he would live and die in his natural state of sin. No inward promptings of his own; no feelings of dissatisfaction with his present condition; no mere natural longings and aspirations, however deep felt, would move him to an earnest outlook beyond the present vanity, and to a heartfelt separation from the seen and the temporal which is around him. But when the external call of the gospel is attended by the internal call of the Holy Spirit, he feels a quickening power; he hears and obeys the divine command. Faith in the Redeemer leads him to obedience. He quits the world; he tears himself away from its deceitful charms, and consents to follow Christ.

2. I speak of their destination as expressed in the command of the Master. It was, “The other side.” They set sail, not for a short excursion along the coast, or an evening trip off from the mainland, and then to return; but across the sea to another country and a different shore. The words of the Master point onward, onward beyond the billows to the far-off land. To “the other side” is the sailing order by which the disciples set their helm and trim their sail; to “the other side” they point while they loose from their moorings at Capernaum, and say good-by to the fishermen left behind upon the beach.

And is there not another side to our existence than the one we are now on? Is there not some shining shore beyond this one—beyond the billows, beyond the cloud-banks; something, if not discernible by our sense vision, at least discoverable by faith?

This side is familiar enough to us. We have trodden it and explored it; we know its features—a state of sin and disappointment, of temptations and illusions, a thousand vanities and shams; life ofttimes seeming a chaos of contradictions, pleasures glittering, syrens singing, sorrows brooding, hopes decaying.

“This side” where we are is a strange side, a dim, dubious shore, where tides ebb and flow we know not how; where the mirage plays upon our vision, and fills the atmosphere with phantoms which seem to us realities; where we seek for happiness in vain, till death removes us from the fitful, toilsome scene.

But is this all? Is there not another side, a different state, a better life to look to? The Christian who has heard the call of Christ has learned of another side than this one, another life besides the present. The call of Christ to him is to the other side. It directs him not to the things seen and temporal, but to the unseen and eternal. It points him far over the sea of life to the distant shore, the other and the better country. This is the Christian’s destination. For this he sails when he cuts loose from the world of sense and sin. Faith catches glimpses of its glories; for it is “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” For this he lives in expectation; for this he parts with sinful pleasures, and waits with patience till it comes. So long as he hears the Saviour’s voice saying, “To yonder shore,” he can content himself with being a stranger here. Oh it is this “looking for a better country” that sustains him in temptations now. How cheering is the prospect!

When, Christian, you are troubled on every side here, how refreshing the Master’s words, To “the other side.” Yes; the pious heart often exclaims, Blessed be God, there is the other side, far different from this side; a future unlike the present; a heavenly land, whose scenery and surroundings are not those of earth. That other side is what you live for, Christian. Oh forget it not when tempted here; remember it, my brother voyager, when you hear the music along these shores of time, and would steer towards the havens of carnal ease and lie becalmed among the spice islands of worldly indolence and pleasure; remember, when the Saviour called you to a Christian life, he pointed far away and said, To “the other side.”

3. The time of their departure. “When the even was come, Jesus said unto them, Let us pass over unto the other side.” The din and turmoil of the day were past; shadows thickened; the world was growing dark; the curtain of night was silently overspreading the land and the sea: it was time to embark for the other side. And is not this suggestive of the circumstances under which the Christian enters upon a Christian life and sets out for heaven?

Oh if the present life had no shadows, we should never look beyond it; if this side was always bright, we should care little for the other. But it is a part of our heavenly Father’s discipline, to visit us with trials and disappointments to wean us from this world. Ofttimes the sun of our prosperity goes suddenly down at noon; worldly plans miscarry; sickness preys upon us; friends die, and families are broken up; the world don’t seem so bright as it used to be: this side gathers gloom and shadows. Then it is the soul is more open to the call of Christ; then it is, often, that the sinner is brought to forsake the world, and obey the voice of the Master saying, “Pass over unto the other side.” It is at evening, when this world is growing dark, that the believer obeys the command of Christ, tears himself away from his sinful lusts with bitter, repenting tears, and exchanging sight for faith, embarks on his voyage to the distant heavenly shore.

It is evening; for although there be no temporal calamities sore pressing you when you become a Christian, it is still a time when the world has lost its sunlight to your soul, and when eternal things have flung their shadows over the heart and made every thing on these shores of time look dim and fading. Then we are ready for Christ. Then, when conscience is aroused, and the overhanging clouds of divine justice darken this side and alarm us, then we set out for heaven, and heed the invitation of the Saviour which beckons us to the other side. It is at such a time the believer enters on a Christian life.

4. We follow him on his voyage to the other side, and notice the important fact that Christ’s presence is with his people through all their way. Standing on the seaside at Capernaum, he sent not the disciples away alone. His word to them was not, “Go yonder;” but stepping on board their vessel, he says, “Let us pass over unto the other side.” He himself will share their fortunes; he will go with them; though night be setting in, and dangers hover on the deep, they shall not go alone. No more shall the Christian. “Lo, I am with you always,” is the blessed assurance of his Saviour. The presence of Christ is the great source of a Christian life.This is all the saint can depend upon; this is what the gospel promises to him. Christ is said to dwell in his disciples—to abide with them. His divine influences are their only guarantee of safety. As well might the mariner be far at sea in a night of tempests, without helm or chart or compass, as the Christian attempt to navigate the troubled waters of life without the Saviour with him.

Better not attempt the voyage than start out alone for the other side. If you would leave these shores of sin and worldliness at all, see to it, first of all, that Jesus is with you in the ship, and that it is his voice alone you hear, as you set sail, saying, “Let us pass over unto the other side.”

Once more, in the night voyage of the disciples over the sea of Galilee I see shadowed forth the changing phases of a Christian life. As they cast off from Capernaum, the evening breezes gently pressed their sails; the silvery ripples murmured on the shore; their little ship moved smoothly out at sea. The disciples sit in the cool evening air on deck, and watch the stars which, one by one, light up the vault above them as the shadows deepen and the shores grow dim. They have hardly missed their Master. They scarcely noticed that he had retired from their presence. But as the night wore on, alarmed at the dangers which surrounded them, the affrighted disciples look around for their absent Lord; and finding him asleep, they waken him with their cries for help. The Saviour, calmly rising from his pillow, looks out upon the angry elements, and speaks the word of power: “Peace, be still.” And the mad winds cease their roar, and the wild waves lie down to rest.

“‘Ye waves,’ he whispered, ‘peace, be still.’
They calmed like a pardoned breast.”

Once more propitious breezes waft them onward, till the morning dawn slowly glimmers in the eastern sky, and reveals, in dim outline, the mountain summits of the other side.

In all this I think I see something which reflects the lights and shades of a true Christian life. How does the believer at his conversion set out for heaven with the consciousness that Christ is with him. How, after the throes of conviction are past, does he expatiate in the sweet peace of believing, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. How little dreams the convert of coming danger. How propitious the opening of his voyage. Often is his course so quiet that he suspends his watch, and loses sight of the near presence of Christ. Seasons come when he grows negligent, and perhaps feels no more of Christ’s near presence with him than the disciples on the sea thought of their sleeping Master. Christ is not gone from him; but his ardent love towards Him has abated, and he no longer has that felt consciousness of His value he once had, nor does he realize his dependence as he should.

Trials come; temptations thicken; doubts and fears arise; Satan harasses him, and inward corruptions start into life again. Then is the soul tossed, like the disciples on the sea; then does the struggling believer look round for his Saviour, and cry, “Save, Lord, or I perish.” Such trials of our faith come in the regular course of a Christian towards the other side, like the storm-belts near the tropics which lie in the sailor’s route from one hemisphere to the other, and through which he must steer his way.

You and I, Christian, have sailed in such latitudes, and heard the winds of temptation blow, and felt the waves of distress dash over our frail bark. Thus we learned our weakness; thus were we humbled; thus were we taught to watch and pray; thus did we fly to Christ, and cry, “Lord, carest thou not that we perish?”

And it was his voice alone that stilled the tempest, and hushed the conflict of the soul. How sweet the peace of the believer after seasons of sore spiritual temptations! Great is the peace felt in the new-born soul when first it hears the voice of forgiveness; but there are other scenes, subsequent experiences, when, after fierce contests with lusts and passions, the Saviour gives the victory. Then when it is over there is a deeper tranquillity in the soul than was ever felt before. Then when we have weathered out the rough gales, and the heart has become sanctified and humbled, and we have got as it were out of sight of land on this side, then do we reach a clearer atmosphere, and enjoy the refreshing gales of the Spirit, which, like the trade-winds, bear us steadily along to port.

It appears that the disciples’ expedition over the sea of Galilee was propitious in its beginning and at its close: their troubles lay along the middle passage. We may remark how this is generally the case with the Christian’s voyage to heaven. Generally his latter course is tranquil as he draws near to the other side. Ofttimes indeed he catches glimpses of the shining shore, and on the sunlit hills beyond descries something like the domes and turrets of the celestial city. Ofttimes when well over towards the other side faith brightens almost into vision; he seems to hear the distant music, and grows impatient to step ashore. We watch his dying pillow till his heaving breast lies still. He has reached his eternal home; he has passed over unto the other side.

I have thus endeavored to employ the narrative of the evangelist to illustrate some of the prominent features of a Christian’s life. He leaves the world of sin and vanity in obedience to the effectual call of the Holy Spirit. His destination is the better country on the other side. The Master who called him goes with him all the way, delivers him from the trials and dangers which beset him, and guides him over the sea of life to the heavenly shore.

How does this description compare with your own experience? Have you truly obeyed the call of Christ, and embarked for the other side? While the sailing order of our text is before you, it is a good time to heave the lead, and take an observation. On what course are you sailing, and what progress are you making in your voyage? Ah, may we not ask some who professed once to leave all for Christ, whether after all the stir and preparation of your setting sail you have not put back into the old port you set out from? Are you not still living in your sins?

Others may not have travelled far, though it be months or years since you started. Alas, there are not a few professing Christians who seem never to lose sight of land this side. Years may have fled, but they have not got many leagues at sea yet. Clinging to earthly things; in love with the pleasures, fashions, and follies of this life; hankering for wealth or position, they do little else than hug these shores of vanity, and coast along among the green isles of temptation which are near them. Heave the lead, my brother, and see where you are. The Master’s orders are, “To the other side.” And if you have been loitering in these waters of worldliness and carnality, it becomes you, by repentance, prayer, and self-denial, to change your course and steer straight for heaven.

Others in the heavenly voyage may have reached the storm-belts, where dangers threaten and skies grow dark. The waves of affliction dash over the soul; doubts and misgivings trouble you; crosses and discouragements beset your way, and often you tremble lest you be a castaway: but courage, my brother; if Christ be with you, you need not fear. Call to Jesus in the storm, and you shall ride it out. Think not that you have lost your course. If Christ be in the ship, if the soul has found him near, then head right to the wind and keep your course for heaven. “These light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us an exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”

And, my aged friends, may I not describe you as well-nigh over the sea of life, and nearing the other shore? Tell us, ye weather-beaten saints, have you not got through the rough middle passage, and heard the voice of Jesus say to the storms, “Peace, be still?” Scores of years have passed since you embarked with Christ; the world has changed, you have changed, and you are evidently nearing port: tell us, do you not feel that the night is far spent, and the day is at hand? Is not Christ nearer and nearer to you by faith, and do you not hope to be with him soon in glory?

Christian, don’t you sometimes see land on the other side? Are not the hills of Beulah in the distance, and the celestial gates? Oh tell us, as you near the other side does not faith catch glimpses of the redeemed and the Redeemer? Christian, you are almost home. Death will soon furl the sail, and moor you by the shore.

My impenitent friend, the call of the gospel comes to you substantially in our text to “pass over unto the other side.” Oh when will you give up this world, and live for heaven? Though you may refuse to obey the call, you cannot stay here long. Life has another side, and you must, ere long, depart. There is an eternity to which you are going—a dim, dark, dismal shore, on which you will be cast at death, far off from heaven.