“CONSIDER HIM”

“His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of peace.”^[84]

In the Teacher sent from God, heaven gave to men its best and greatest. He who had stood in the councils of the Most High, who had dwelt in the innermost sanctuary of the Eternal, was the One chosen to reveal in person to humanity the knowledge of God.

Through Christ had been communicated every ray of divine light that had ever reached our fallen world. It was He who had spoken through every one that throughout the ages had declared God’s word to man. Of Him all the excellences manifest in the earth’s greatest and noblest souls were reflections. The purity and beneficence of Joseph, the faith and meekness and long-suffering of Moses, the steadfastness of Elisha, the noble integrity and firmness of Daniel, the ardor and self-sacrifice of Paul, the mental and spiritual power manifest in all these men, and in all others who had ever dwelt on the earth, were but gleams from the shining of His glory. In Him was found the perfect ideal.

To reveal this ideal as the only true standard for attainment; to show what every human being might become; what, through the indwelling of humanity by divinity, all who received Him would become,—for this, Christ came to the world. He came to show how men are to be trained as befits the sons of God; how on earth they are to practise the principles and to live the life of heaven.

God’s greatest gift was bestowed to meet man’s greatest need. The Light appeared when the world’s darkness was deepest. Through false teaching, the minds of men had long been turned away from God. In the prevailing systems of education, human philosophy had taken the place of divine revelation. Instead of the heaven-given standard of truth, men had accepted a standard of their own devising. From the Light of life they had turned aside to walk in the sparks of the fire which they had kindled.

Having separated from God, their only dependence being the power of humanity, their strength was but weakness. Even the standard set up by themselves they were incapable of reaching. The want of true excellence was supplied by appearance and profession. Semblance took the place of reality.

From time to time, teachers arose who pointed men to the Source of truth. Right principles were enunciated, and human lives witnessed to their power. But these efforts made no lasting impression. There was a brief check in the current of evil, but its downward course was not stayed. The reformers were as lights that shone in the darkness; but they could not dispel it. The world “loved darkness rather than light.”^[85]

When Christ came to the earth, humanity seemed to be fast reaching its lowest point. The very foundations of society were undermined. Life had become false and artificial. The Jews, destitute of the power of God’s word, gave to the world mind-benumbing, soul-deadening traditions and speculations. The worship of God “in Spirit and in truth,” had been supplanted by the glorification of men in an endless round of man-made ceremonies. Throughout the world, all systems of religion were losing their hold on mind and soul. Disgusted with fable and falsehood, seeking to drown thought, men turned to infidelity and materialism. Leaving eternity out of their reckoning, they lived for the present.

As they ceased to recognize the Divine, they ceased to regard the human. Truth, honor, integrity, confidence, compassion, were departing from the earth. Relentless greed and absorbing ambition gave birth to universal distrust. The idea of duty, of the obligation of strength to weakness, of human dignity and human rights, was cast aside as a dream or a fable. The common people were regarded as beasts of burden or as the tools and the stepping-stones for ambition. Wealth and power, ease and self-indulgence, were sought as the highest good. Physical degeneracy, mental stupor, spiritual death, characterized the age.

As the evil passions and purposes of men banished God from their thoughts, so forgetfulness of Him inclined them more strongly to evil. The heart in love with sin clothed Him with its own attributes, and this conception strengthened the power of sin. Bent on self-pleasing, men came to regard God as such a one as themselves,—a Being whose aim was self-glory, whose requirements were suited to His own pleasure; a Being by whom men were lifted up or cast down according as they helped or hindered His selfish purpose. The lower classes regarded the Supreme Being as one scarcely differing from their oppressors, save by exceeding them in power. By these ideas every form of religion was moulded. Each was a system of exaction. By gifts and ceremonies, the worshipers sought to propitiate the Deity, in order to secure His favor for their own ends. Such religion, having no power upon the heart or the conscience, could be but a round of forms, of which men wearied, and from which, except for such gain as it might offer, they longed to be free. So evil, unrestrained, grew stronger, while the appreciation and desire for good diminished. Men lost the image of God, and received the impress of the demoniacal power by which they were controlled. The whole world was becoming a sink of corruption.

There was but one hope for the human race,—that into this mass of discordant and corrupting elements might be cast a new leaven; that there might be brought to mankind the power of a new life; that the knowledge of God might be restored to the world.

Christ came to restore this knowledge. He came to set aside the false teaching by which those who claimed to know God had misrepresented Him. He came to manifest the nature of His law, to reveal in His own character the beauty of holiness.

Christ came to the world with the accumulated love of eternity. Sweeping away the exactions which had encumbered the law of God, He showed that the law is a law of love, an expression of the Divine Goodness. He showed that in obedience to its principles is involved the happiness of mankind, and with it the stability, the very foundation and framework, of human society.

So far from making arbitrary requirements, God’s law is given to men as a hedge, a shield. Whoever accepts its principles is preserved from evil. Fidelity to God involves fidelity to man. Thus the law guards the rights, the individuality, of every human being. It restrains the superior from oppression, and the subordinate from disobedience. It insures man’s well-being, both for this world and for the world to come. To the obedient it is the pledge of eternal life; for it expresses the principles that endure forever.

Christ came to demonstrate the value of the divine principles by revealing their power for the regeneration of humanity. He came to teach how these principles are to be developed and applied.

With the people of that age, the value of all things was determined by outward show. As religion had declined in power, it had increased in pomp. The educators of the time sought to command respect by display and ostentation. To all this the life of Jesus presented a marked contrast. His life demonstrated the worthlessness of those things that men regarded as life’s great essentials. Born amidst surroundings the rudest, sharing a peasant’s home, a peasant’s fare, a craftsman’s occupation, living a life of obscurity, identifying Himself with the world’s unknown toilers,—amidst these conditions and surroundings,—Jesus followed the divine plan of education. The schools of His time, with their magnifying of things small and their belittling of things great, He did not seek. His education was gained directly from the Heaven-appointed sources; from useful work, from the study of the Scriptures and of nature, and from the experiences of life,—God’s lesson-books, full of instruction to all who bring to them the willing hand, the seeing eye, and the understanding heart.

“The Child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace of God was upon Him.”^[86]

Thus prepared, He went forth to His mission, in every moment of His contact with men exerting upon them an influence to bless, a power to transform, such as the world had never witnessed.

He who seeks to transform humanity must himself understand humanity. Only through sympathy, faith, and love can men be reached and uplifted. Here Christ stands revealed as the master teacher; of all that ever dwelt on the earth, He alone has perfect understanding of the human soul.

“We have not a high priest”—master teacher, for the priests were teachers—“we have not a high priest that can not be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but one that hath been in all points tempted like as we are.”^[87]

“In that He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted.”^[88]

Christ alone had experience in all the sorrows and temptations that befall human beings. Never another of woman born was so fiercely beset by temptation; never another bore so heavy a burden of the world’s sin and pain. Never was there another whose sympathies were so broad or so tender. A sharer in all the experiences of humanity, He could feel not only for, but with, every burdened and tempted and struggling one.

What He taught, He lived. “I have given you an example,” He said to His disciples; “that ye should do as I have done.” “I have kept My Father’s commandments.”^[89] Thus in His life, Christ’s words had perfect illustration and support. And more than this; what He taught, He was. His words were the expression, not only of His own life-experience, but of His own character. Not only did He teach the truth, but He was the truth. It was this that gave His teaching power.

Christ was a faithful reprover. Never lived there another who so hated evil; never another whose denunciation of it was so fearless. To all things untrue and base His very presence was a rebuke. In the light of His purity, men saw themselves unclean, their life’s aims mean and false. Yet He drew them. He who had created man, understood the value of humanity. Evil He denounced as the foe of those whom He was seeking to bless and to save. In every human being, however fallen, He beheld a son of God, one who might be restored to the privilege of his divine relationship.

“God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through Him might be saved.”^[90] Looking upon men in their suffering and degradation, Christ perceived ground for hope where appeared only despair and ruin. Wherever there existed a sense of need, there He saw opportunity for uplifting. Souls tempted, defeated, feeling themselves lost, ready to perish, He met, not with denunciation, but with blessing.

The beatitudes were His greeting to the whole human family. Looking upon the vast throng gathered to listen to the sermon on the mount, He seemed for the moment to have forgotten that He was not in heaven, and He used the familiar salutation of the world of light. From His lips flowed blessings as the gushing forth of a long-sealed fountain.

Turning from the ambitious, self-satisfied favorites of this world, He declared that those were blessed who, however great their need, would receive His light and love. To the poor in spirit, the sorrowing, the persecuted, He stretched out His arms, saying, “Come unto Me.... I will give you rest.”^[91]

In every human being He discerned infinite possibilities. He saw men as they might be, transfigured by His grace,—in “the beauty of the Lord our God.”^[92] Looking upon them with hope, He inspired hope. Meeting them with confidence, He inspired trust. Revealing in Himself man’s true ideal, He awakened, for its attainment, both desire and faith. In His presence souls despised and fallen realized that they still were men, and they longed to prove themselves worthy of His regard. In many a heart that seemed dead to all things holy were awakened new impulses. To many a despairing one there opened the possibility of a new life.

Christ bound men to His heart by the ties of love and devotion; and by the same ties He bound them to their fellow-men. With Him love was life, and life was service. “Freely ye have received,” He said, “freely give.”^[93]

It was not on the cross only that Christ sacrificed Himself for humanity. As “He went about doing good,”^[94] every-day’s experience was an outpouring of His life. In one way only could such a life be sustained. Jesus lived in dependence upon God and communion with Him. To the secret place of the Most High, under the shadow of the Almighty, men now and then repair; they abide for a season, and the result is manifest in noble deeds; then their faith fails, the communion is interrupted, and the life-work marred. But the life of Jesus was a life of constant trust, sustained by continual communion; and His service for heaven and earth was without failure or faltering.

As a man He supplicated the throne of God, till His humanity was charged with a heavenly current that connected humanity with divinity. Receiving life from God, He imparted life to men.

“Never man spake like this Man.”^[95] This would have been true of Christ had He taught only in the realm of the physical and the intellectual, or in matters of theory and speculation solely. He might have unlocked mysteries that have required centuries of toil and study to penetrate. He might have made suggestions in scientific lines that, till the close of time, would have afforded food for thought and stimulus for invention. But He did not do this. He said nothing to gratify curiosity or to stimulate selfish ambition. He did not deal in abstract theories, but in that which is essential to the development of character; that which will enlarge man’s capacity for knowing God, and increase his power to do good. He spoke of those truths that relate to the conduct of life, and that unite man with eternity.

Instead of directing the people to study men’s theories about God, His word, or His works, He taught them to behold Him, as manifested in His works, in His word, and by His providences. He brought their minds in contact with the mind of the Infinite.

The people “were astonished at His teaching;^[96] for His word was with power.”^[97] Never before spoke one who had such power to awaken thought, to kindle aspiration, to arouse every capability of body, mind, and soul.

Christ’s teaching, like His sympathies, embraced the world. Never can there be a circumstance of life, a crisis in human experience, which has not been anticipated in His teaching, and for which its principles have not a lesson. The Prince of teachers, His words will be found a guide to His co-workers till the end of time.

To Him the present and the future, the near and the far, were one. He had in view the needs of all mankind. Before His mind’s eye was outspread every scene of human effort and achievement, of temptation and conflict, of perplexity and peril. All hearts, all homes, all pleasures and joys and aspirations, were known to Him.

He spoke not only for, but to, all mankind. To the little child, in the gladness of life’s morning; to the eager, restless heart of youth; to men in the strength of their years, bearing the burden of responsibility and care; to the aged in their weakness and weariness,—to all, His message was spoken,—to every child of humanity, in every land and in every age.

In His teaching were embraced the things of time and the things of eternity,—things seen, in their relation to things unseen, the passing incidents of common life and the solemn issues of the life to come.

The things of this life He placed in their true relation, as subordinate to those of eternal interest; but He did not ignore their importance. He taught that heaven and earth are linked together, and that a knowledge of divine truth prepares man better to perform the duties of daily life.

To Him nothing was without purpose. The sports of the child, the toils of the man, life’s pleasures and cares and pains, all were means to the one end,—the revelation of God for the uplifting of humanity.

From His lips the word of God came home to men’s hearts with new power and new meaning. His teaching caused the things of creation to stand out in new light. Upon the face of nature once more rested gleamings of that brightness which sin had banished. In all the facts and experiences of life were revealed a divine lesson and the possibility of divine companionship. Again God dwelt on earth; human hearts became conscious of His presence; the world was encompassed with His love. Heaven came down to men. In Christ their hearts acknowledged Him who had opened to them the science of eternity,—

“Immanuel, God with us.”

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In the Teacher sent from God, all true educational work finds its center. Of this work to-day as verily as of the work He established eighteen hundred years ago, the Saviour speaks in the words,—

“I am the first and the last, and the Living One.”

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.”^[98]

In the presence of such a Teacher, of such opportunity for divine education, what worse than folly is it to seek an education apart from Him,—to seek to be wise apart from Wisdom; to be true while rejecting Truth; to seek illumination apart from the Light, and existence without the Life; to turn from the Fountain of living waters, and hew out broken cisterns, that can hold no water.

Behold, He is still inviting: “If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink. He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said,” out of him “shall flow rivers of living water.” “The water that I shall give him shall become in him a well of water springing up unto eternal life.”^[99]

The most complete illustration of Christ’s methods as a teacher is found in His training of the twelve first disciples. Upon these men were to rest weighty responsibilities. He had chosen them as men whom He could imbue with His Spirit, and who could be fitted to carry forward His work on earth when He should leave it. To them, above all others, He gave the advantage of His own companionship. Through personal association He impressed Himself upon these chosen co-laborers. “The Life was manifested,” says John the beloved, “and we have seen it, and bear witness.”^[100]

Only by such communion,—the communion of mind with mind and heart with heart, of the human with the divine,—can be communicated that vitalizing energy which it is the work of true education to impart. It is only life that begets life.

In the training of His disciples the Saviour followed the system of education established at the beginning. The twelve first chosen, with a few others who through ministry to their needs were from time to time connected with them, formed the family of Jesus. They were with Him in the house, at the table, in the closet, in the field. They accompanied Him on His journeys, shared His trials and hardships, and, as much as in them was, entered into His work.

Sometimes He taught them as they sat together on the mountainside, sometimes beside the sea, or from the fisherman’s boat, sometimes as they walked by the way. Whenever He spoke to the multitude, the disciples formed the inner circle. They pressed close beside Him, that they might lose nothing of His instruction. They were attentive listeners, eager to understand the truths they were to teach in all lands and to all ages.

The first pupils of Jesus were chosen from the ranks of the common people. They were humble, unlettered men, these fishers of Galilee; men unschooled in the learning and customs of the rabbis, but trained by the stern discipline of toil and hardship. They were men of native ability and of teachable spirit; men who could be instructed and moulded for the Saviour’s work. In the common walks of life there is many a toiler patiently treading the round of his daily tasks, unconscious of latent powers that, roused to action, would place him among the world’s great leaders. Such were the men who were called by the Saviour to be His co-laborers. And they had the advantage of three years’ training by the greatest educator this world has ever known.

In these first disciples was presented a marked diversity. They were to be the world’s teachers, and they represented widely varied types of character. There were Levi Matthew the publican, called from a life of business activity, and subservience to Rome; the zealot Simon, the uncompromising foe of the imperial authority; the impulsive, self-sufficient, warm-hearted Peter, with Andrew his brother; Judas the Judean, polished, capable, and mean-spirited; Philip and Thomas, faithful and earnest, yet slow of heart to believe; James the less and Jude, of less prominence among the brethren, but men of force, positive both in their faults and in their virtues; Nathanael, a child in sincerity and trust; and the ambitious, loving-hearted sons of Zebedee.

In order successfully to carry forward the work to which they had been called, these disciples, differing so widely in natural characteristics, in training, and in habits of life, needed to come into unity of feeling, thought, and action. This unity it was Christ’s object to secure. To this end He sought to bring them into unity with Himself. The burden of His labor for them is expressed in His prayer to the Father, “that they all may be one; as Thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one in Us;... that the world may know that Thou hast sent Me, and hast loved them, as Thou hast loved Me.”^[101]

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Of the twelve disciples, four were to act a leading part, each in a distinct line. In preparation for this, Christ taught them, foreseeing all. James, destined to swift-coming death by the sword; John, longest of the brethren to follow his Master in labor and persecution; Peter, the pioneer in breaking through the barriers of ages, and teaching the heathen world; and Judas, in service capable of pre-eminence above his brethren, yet brooding in his soul purposes of whose ripening he little dreamed,—these were the objects of Christ’s greatest solicitude, and the recipients of His most frequent and careful instruction.

Peter, James, and John sought every opportunity of coming into close contact with their Master, and their desire was granted. Of all the twelve their relationship to Him was closest. John could be satisfied only with a still nearer intimacy, and this he obtained. At that first conference beside the Jordan, when Andrew, having heard Jesus, hurried away to call his brother, John sat silent, rapt in the contemplation of wondrous themes. He followed the Saviour, ever an eager, absorbed listener. Yet John’s was no faultless character. He was no gentle, dreamy enthusiast. He and his brother were called “the sons of thunder.”^[102] John was proud, ambitious, combative; but beneath all this the divine Teacher discerned the ardent, sincere, loving heart. Jesus rebuked his self-seeking, disappointed his ambitions, tested his faith. But He revealed to him that for which his soul longed,—the beauty of holiness, His own transforming love. “Unto the men which Thou gavest Me out of the world,” He said to the Father, “I have manifested Thy name.”^[103]

John’s was a nature that longed for love, for sympathy and companionship. He pressed close to Jesus, sat by His side, leaned upon His breast. As a flower the sun and dew, so did he drink in the divine light and life. In adoration and love he beheld the Saviour, until likeness to Christ and fellowship with Him became his one desire, and in his character was reflected the character of his Master.

“Behold,” he said, “what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God; therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew Him not. Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is. And every man that hath this hope in Him purifieth himself, even as He is pure.”^[104]

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The history of no one of the disciples better illustrates Christ’s method of training than does the history of Peter. Bold, aggressive, and self-confident, quick to perceive and forward to act, prompt in retaliation yet generous in forgiving, Peter often erred, and often received reproof. Nor were his warm-hearted loyalty and devotion to Christ the less decidedly recognized and commended. Patiently, with discriminating love, the Saviour dealt with His impetuous disciple, seeking to check his self-confidence, and to teach him humility, obedience, and trust.

But only in part was the lesson learned. Self-assurance was not uprooted.

Often Jesus, the burden heavy upon His own heart, sought to open to the disciples the scenes of His trial and suffering. But their eyes were holden. The knowledge was unwelcome, and they did not see. Self-pity, that shrank from fellowship with Christ in suffering, prompted Peter’s remonstrance, “Pity Thyself, Lord; this shall not be unto Thee.”^[105] His words expressed the thought and feeling of the twelve.

So they went on, the crisis drawing nearer; they, boastful, contentious, in anticipation apportioning regal honors, and dreaming not of the cross.

For them all, Peter’s experience had a lesson. To self-trust, trial is defeat. The sure outworking of evil still unforsaken, Christ could not prevent. But as His hand had been outstretched to save when the waves were about to sweep over Peter, so did His love reach out for his rescue when the deep waters swept over his soul. Over and over again, on the very verge of ruin, Peter’s words of boasting brought him nearer and still nearer to the brink. Over and over again was given the warning, “Thou shalt... deny that thou knowest Me.”^[106] It was the grieved, loving heart of the disciple that spoke out in the avowal, “Lord, I am ready to go with Thee, both into prison, and to death;”^[107] and He who reads the heart gave to Peter the message, little valued then, but that in the swift-falling darkness would shed a ray of hope: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not; and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren.”^[108]

When in the judgment-hall the words of denial had been spoken; when Peter’s love and loyalty, awakened under the Saviour’s glance of pity and love and sorrow, had sent him forth to the garden where Christ had wept and prayed; when his tears of remorse dropped upon the sod that had been moistened with the blood-drops of His agony,—then the Saviour’s words, “I have prayed for thee;... when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren,” were a stay to his soul. Christ, though foreseeing his sin, had not abandoned him to despair.

If the look that Jesus cast upon him had spoken condemnation instead of pity; if in foretelling the sin He had failed of speaking hope, how dense would have been the darkness that encompassed Peter! how reckless the despair of that tortured soul! In that hour of anguish and self-abhorrence, what could have held him back from the path trodden by Judas?

He who could not spare His disciple the anguish, left him not alone to its bitterness. His is a love that fails not nor forsakes.

Human beings, themselves given to evil, are prone to deal untenderly with the tempted and the erring. They can not read the heart, they know not its struggle and pain. Of the rebuke that is love, of the blow that wounds to heal, of the warning that speaks hope, they have need to learn.

It was not John, the one who watched with Him in the judgment-hall, who stood beside His cross, and who of the twelve was first at the tomb,—it was not John, but Peter, that was mentioned by name in the first message sent to the disciples by Christ after His resurrection. “Tell His disciples and Peter,” the angel said, “that He goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see Him.”^[109]

At the last meeting of Christ with the disciples by the sea, Peter, tested by the thrice-given question, “Lovest thou Me?” was restored to his place among the twelve. His work was appointed him; he was to feed the Lord’s flock. Then, as His last personal direction, Jesus bade him, “Follow thou Me.”^[110]

Now he could appreciate the words. The lesson Christ had given when He set a little child in the midst of the disciples and bade them become like him, Peter could now better understand. Knowing more fully both his own weakness and Christ’s power, he was ready to trust and to obey. In His strength he could follow his Master.

And at the close of his experience of labor and sacrifice, the disciple once so unready to discern the cross, counted it a joy to yield up his life for the gospel, feeling only that, for him who had denied the Lord, to die in the same manner as his Master died was too great an honor.

A miracle of divine tenderness was Peter’s transformation. It is a life-lesson to all who seek to follow in the steps of the Master Teacher.

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Jesus reproved His disciples, He warned and cautioned them; but John and Peter and their brethren did not leave Him. Notwithstanding the reproofs, they chose to be with Jesus. And the Saviour did not, because of their errors, withdraw from them. He takes men as they are, with all their faults and weaknesses, and trains them for His service, if they will be disciplined and taught by Him.

But there was one of the twelve to whom, until very near the close of His work, Christ spoke no word of direct reproof.

With Judas an element of antagonism was introduced among the disciples. In connecting himself with Jesus he had responded to the attraction of His character and life. He had sincerely desired a change in himself, and had hoped to experience this through a union with Jesus. But this desire did not become predominant. That which ruled him was the hope of selfish benefit in the worldly kingdom which he expected Christ to establish. Though recognizing the divine power of the love of Christ, Judas did not yield to its supremacy. He continued to cherish his own judgment and opinions, his disposition to criticize and condemn. Christ’s motives and movements, often so far above his comprehension, excited doubt and disapproval, and his own questionings and ambitions were insinuated to the disciples. Many of their contentions for supremacy, much of their dissatisfaction with Christ’s methods, originated with Judas.

Jesus, seeing that to antagonize was but to harden, refrained from direct conflict. The narrowing selfishness of Judas’ life, Christ sought to heal through contact with His own self-sacrificing love. In His teaching He unfolded principles that struck at the root of the disciple’s self-centered ambitions. Lesson after lesson was thus given, and many a time Judas realized that his character had been portrayed, and his sin pointed out; but he would not yield.

Mercy’s pleading resisted, the impulse of evil bore final sway. Judas, angered at an implied rebuke, and made desperate by the disappointment of his ambitious dreams, surrendered his soul to the demon of greed, and determined upon the betrayal of his Master. From the Passover chamber, the joy of Christ’s presence, and the light of immortal hope, he went forth to his evil work,—into the outer darkness, where hope was not.

“Jesus knew from the beginning who they were that believed not, and who should betray Him.”^[111] Yet, knowing all, He had withheld no pleading of mercy or gift of love.

Seeing the danger of Judas, He had brought him close to Himself, within the inner circle of His chosen and trusted disciples. Day after day, when the burden lay heaviest upon His own heart, He had borne the pain of continual contact with that stubborn, suspicious, brooding spirit; He had witnessed and labored to counteract among His disciples that continuous, secret, and subtle antagonism. And all this that no possible saving influence might be lacking to that imperiled soul!

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So far as Judas himself was concerned, Christ’s work of love had been without avail. But not so as regards his fellow-disciples. To them it was a lesson of lifelong influence. Ever would its example of tenderness and long-suffering mould their intercourse with the tempted and the erring. And it had other lessons. At the ordination of the twelve, the disciples had greatly desired that Judas should become one of their number; and they had counted his accession an event of much promise to the apostolic band. He had come more into contact with the world than they, he was a man of good address, of discernment and executive ability, and, having a high estimate of his own qualifications, he had led the disciples to hold him in the same regard. But the methods he desired to introduce into Christ’s work were based upon worldly principles and were controlled by worldly policy. They looked to the securing of worldly recognition and honor,—to the obtaining of the kingdom of this world. The working out of these desires in the life of Judas, helped the disciples to understand the antagonism between the principle of self-aggrandizement and Christ’s principle of humility and self-sacrifice,—the principle of the spiritual kingdom. In the fate of Judas they saw the end to which self-serving tends.

For these disciples the mission of Christ finally accomplished its purpose. Little by little His example and His lessons of self-abnegation moulded their characters. His death destroyed their hope of worldly greatness. The fall of Peter, the apostasy of Judas, their own failure in forsaking Christ in His anguish and peril, swept away their self-sufficiency. They saw their own weakness; they saw something of the greatness of the work committed to them; they felt their need of their Master’s guidance at every step.

They knew that His personal presence was no longer to be with them, and they recognized, as they had never recognized before, the value of the opportunities that had been theirs to walk and talk with the Sent of God. Many of His lessons, when spoken, they had not appreciated or understood; now they longed to recall these lessons, to hear again His words. With what joy now came back to them His assurance:—

“It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send Him.” “All things that I have heard of My Father I have made known unto you.” And “the Comforter... whom the Father will send in My name, He shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.”^[113]

“All things that the Father hath are Mine.” “When He, the Spirit of truth, is come, He will guide you into all truth.... He shall receive of Mine, and shall show it unto you.”^[114]

The disciples had seen Christ ascend from among them on the Mount of Olives. And as the heavens received Him, there had come back to them His parting promise, “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.”^[115]

They knew that His sympathies were with them still. They knew that they had a representative, an advocate, at the throne of God. In the name of Jesus they presented their petitions, repeating His promise, “Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in My name, He will give it you.”^[116]

Higher and higher they extended the hand of faith, with the mighty argument, “It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.”^[117]

Faithful to His promise, the Divine One, exalted in the heavenly courts, imparted of His fulness to His followers on earth. His enthronement at God’s right hand was signalized by the outpouring of the Spirit upon His disciples.

By the work of Christ these disciples had been led to feel their need of the Spirit; under the Spirit’s teaching they received their final preparation, and went forth to their life-work.

No longer were they ignorant and uncultured. No longer were they a collection of independent units or of discordant and conflicting elements. No longer were their hopes set on worldly greatness. They were of “one accord,” of “one mind and one soul.” Christ filled their thoughts. The advancement of His kingdom was their aim. In mind and character they had become like their Master; and men “took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus.”^[118]

Then was there such a revelation of the glory of Christ as had never before been witnessed by mortal man. Multitudes who had reviled His name and despised His power confessed themselves disciples of the Crucified. Through the co-operation of the divine Spirit the labors of the humble men whom Christ had chosen, stirred the world. To every nation under heaven was the gospel carried in a single generation.

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The same Spirit that in His stead was sent to be the instructor of His first co-workers, Christ has commissioned to be the instructor of His co-workers to-day. “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world,”^[119] is His promise.

The presence of the same Guide in educational work to-day will produce the same results as of old. This is the end to which true education tends; this is the work that God designs it to accomplish.