07.06. The Mighty Voice

6. The Mighty Voice

There is a strange mingling of the human and Divine, in the story of Bethany. Each manifests itself in harmony — yet in contrast. Christ was truly and indeed the Son of man. He was a brother, and had a brother’s heart. Those tears of His, how deeply do they penetrate? Surely they tell of an experience of woe that to the uttermost limits of time shall never fail to console the mourner. But with these tears, what a consciousness of Divine power do we recognize! To some of those present the tears He shed were an evidence of sympathy, but moreover, of weakness: "Could not this man," said they, "which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?" He will soon give a glorious answer to this. How far His power surpasses their doubting inquiries, shall presently be manifest to all. So He comes nearer to the grave of His friend. And he comes still groaning. Was that groan the expression of sorrow at the unbelief He witnessed? Was it the prayer the Father heard? Ah, remember a sigh, a look, a desire, a groan God-ward, is a prayer — and one never despised! The unspoken prayer often is most powerful in the ear of Him that searches the heart. And now we stand close to the spot. There is the cave — the silent home of the beloved One. We hearken, and the Savior speaks: "Take away the stone!" The command tells us that we must obey Christ’s bidding, if we would look for His help. He calls man to do that which is in his power — while He will do that which man cannot do. "Take away the stone!" Remove stumbling-blocks. Cast aside that which hinders.

It is the part of every Christian to remove stumbling-blocks out of the way of others. Parents might do far more for their children, and mistresses for their servants, giving them more knowledge of God’s Word, and bringing them within the sound of the Gospel of Christ. But in the case of Martha, instead of obeying Christ’s command, it would seem that she put a fresh stone in the way! Unbelief breaks out, and there is no such hindrance in Christ’s way as this. "He could not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief." Faith draws down the power and grace of Jesus — but unbelief bars the door against it.

Poor Martha! why do you doubt your Savior’s wisdom or your Savior’s power? Why speak of the corruption of the grave? Truly, if mere earthly affection had said, "Take away the stone," you might well have replied, "Leave him alone, for by this time there is a bad odor." It is a humbling thought. Look at man in his pride, his self-elation. See him glorying in his attainments or his possessions. Then look at that grave! "Let me bury my dead out of my sight!" said Abraham of Sarah, whom he had so loved. "By this time there is a bad odor," said Martha of the beloved brother.

We say to corruption, "You are my father; and to the worm, You are my mother and sister." Look forward awhile, and what remains of the fairest or the strongest — but a few bones, a handful of dust. Ah, vain man, wherefore would you be proud?" Man is like unto vanity: his time passes away like a shadow." But Martha was forgetting whose voice had given the command. What are four days, or forty days, or forty years — to Him who is the Resurrection and the Life, who holds in His hands the keys of death and the grave?

Jesus gently reproves her. He reminds her of the promise that her brother would rise again, and how He had told her of the blessing to those that believe: "Said I not unto you, that, if you would believe you should see the glory of God?"

Let the Christian remember this. Christ throws upon Martha a great responsibility. She must believe, before she could see. She must trust His power, before she could behold the mighty work He was willing to perform. Thus must we honor Christ also. We must believe in His help, before we can find it. Where did Martha err? She could only think of that dead body — of those sad four days — of the gloom and corruption of the grave. Hence her faith was weak and dim, because her eye was not fixed on the mighty Redeemer who stood by her side.

We often fail in the same way. We look at the dead body of our guilt, of our corruption; we feel ourselves so utterly bad and vile and unworthy, that we scarcely think that salvation can be possible. We look at the utter ungodliness or worldliness of another, until we fail to recognize the face of Him that can quicken the dead soul. We look at that black cloud, so gloomy and so threatening, or that deep distress and sorrow — until we shut out from ourselves all else, and cannot see a ray of hope beyond.

Surely the voice of Christ to Martha chides our unbelief. Turn away your eyes from your sin, your fear, your sorrow — and behold the love and might of Him who stands near to help you.

What a contrast we have in the faith of Abraham — to the unbelief of Martha! God promised him a son, and through that son a seed like the stars of Heaven and the sand on the sea-shore. And he fully believed it. "Being not weak in faith, he considered not his own body now dead, when he was about a hundred years old, neither yet the deadness of Sarah’s womb: he staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief, but was strong in faith, giving glory to God." He looked not at the difficulties in the way, but regarded only the promise and the power and the faithfulness of God.

Believe, and you shall see the glory of God! You shall see the glory of His free salvation, of His full and complete justification, and of your sure acceptance in the Beloved!

Believe, and you shall see the glory and grace of a present and merciful Redeemer, cheering your heart and filling you with joy unspeakable!

Believe, and you shall see glorious displays of His power on your behalf, turning your sorrows into joys, and your trials into blessings!

Believe, and you shall see souls, once dead and corrupt, changed and transformed, rejoicing in the new life which the Spirit imparts!

Believe, and you shall see life triumphing over death, grace over sin, strength over weakness.

Believe, and you shall see the glory of the everlasting kingdom, a mansion in the skies, a throne with Christ, and a crown that fades not away! The words of Christ were enough. They do His bidding. They roll away the stone, and thus by the very act they become witnesses of the power of Christ.

Then Christ gives thanks to the Father. He who lifted up his eyes in prayer, now lifts them up in praise and thankfulness. He needed not prayer, indeed, to enable Him to work this mighty work; for by His own word, without prayer, He for the most part performed his mightiest miracles. He said to the waves, "Peace, be still!" He said to the widow’s son, "Young man, arise!" But He would show that He was working in all things with His Father, and in accordance with His will. He would show us, moreover, that in all we do, we must look for help from above; nor must we forget to thank our Father for the help He gives. Before we speak to souls dead in their sins, let us first remember to plead on their behalf with Him who alone can give life.

Christ had spoken to the Father — now He speaks to Lazarus. And He speaks with "a loud voice." The voice of Christ, for the most part, was quiet and gentle. He did not lift up nor cry nor make His voice heard in the street. His words were like the gentle dew, falling softly — and yet refreshing so many weary hearts. But sometimes, as now, for a special purpose, He speaks aloud. He gives one solemn command — simple, plain, majestic: "LAZARUS, COME FORTH!" And now within that silent grave, Divine power is felt. Had all the voices of earth combined to say, "Come Forth!" death and the grave would have laughed at their puny efforts to deliver man from their dread embrace. But not so with the voice of Jesus. The still grave hears that voice, and at once obeys. The flesh, just now corrupt and decaying, suddenly regains its former freshness. Every power and faculty is restored. The emancipated spirit, which had fled to other scenes, returns for a while to its tenement of clay. Lazarus lives! That strange thing that we call life, so precious, so incomprehensible, so easy to destroy — and yet so impossible for human power to restore — this is given back. Yet no vain curiosity has been satisfied by the resurrection of Lazarus. Whether he had revelations of the invisible state which his lips might have uttered — whether he did tell something in the secret converse of the family with the beloved sisters — this we know not. But this we know — that for us the message of the risen Lazarus is of Him who is the Resurrection and the Life. His one message to us is of the might and majesty and grace of our glorious Redeemer.

Lazarus comes forth — but he comes forth bearing about with him the witness of His previous death. When Christ left the tomb, the napkin and grave-clothes were left behind; but Lazarus comes forth, "bound hand and foot with grave-clothes, and his face bound about with a napkin." So we have a further command: "Loose him, and let him go." And thus again we learn how Jesus takes man into partnership with Himself, even in His mightiest works. That which man can do, whether it be the rolling away the stone, or the loosing of the grave-clothes — this He bids him to do. But another lesson we may learn. Take off the grave-clothes of a death in sin! Let not old habits, the world’s maxims, the besetting sin of former days — impede and keep in bondage the soul which Christ has quickened by His Spirit. Take off all that tells of the unconverted life. Put on all that befits one raised to so high a position. "Mortify, therefore, your members which are on the earth." "Set your affections on things above."

Watch over the rebellious will.

Guard well the unruly tongue.

Curb the rash or sullen temper.

Lay aside all "filthiness of the flesh and spirit," and "perfect holiness in the fear of God."

Let the closing thought on this part of the narrative be to remind us of that all-powerful voice which in a moment could thus summon the dead to life.

I hear the voice of the Son of man thus reviving dead and buried hopes.

You may have had a hope, a longing, in days that are past — but, in the providence of God, it would seem as if the desire were denied you. Perhaps it may be. We must bend our will to God’s will. We must bring our requests to God, and then leave Him to do what seems best.

"Have you a hope for which your heart
Would almost count it death to part?
O ask your God that hope to crown,
Or give you strength to lay it down."

But, perhaps, after all, in some shape, the blessing may be granted. You may have lived and died without any apparent sign of your prayer being heard; and then, on another shore, those for whom you have long prayed may greet you as the appointed means of their salvation. Or it may be that some gift, which you have sought and prayed for in vain on earth, may then in a far higher degree be conferred upon you. But I hear also the voice of Jesus summoning from the grave, those long sleeping in the dust.

It was a "loud" voice in which Jesus spoke to Lazarus; but what a voice will that be that shall sound in every grave, yes, in the depths of the sea, and shall call forth the dead. "The hour is coming in the which all who are in the graves shall hear His voice, and shall come forth; those who have done good unto the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation."

Great the joy of the risen saints, when, at the day of Christ’s coming, they awake to receive in the body the recompense for toil and suffering. Pardoned through the atoning blood, accepted through the perfect righteousness of Christ; nevertheless, every prayer and labor and effort shall be rewarded through the same mercy and grace which has wrought all their works in them.

Great, too, is the woe of those who shall then stand before the throne unsaved, and whose evil deeds shall then be brought to light.

Never have I read any incident that reminds me so forcibly of this, as the story of Macaba, the African chief, who was notorious for his wars and cruelties, and who was present on one occasion when Mr. Moffatt was preaching on the Resurrection.

"What?" said he, starting with surprise; "what are those words about the dead? The dead arise?"
"Yes, all the dead will arise."

"Will my father arise?"
"Yes."

"Will all the slain in battle arise?"
"Yes."

"Will all that have been killed and eaten by lions, tigers, and crocodiles, arise?"
"Yes — and they will all come to judgment."

"Hark!" shouted the chief, turning to the warriors; "you wise men, did your ears ever hear such strange and unheard-of news? Did you," turning to an old man, the wise man of his tribe; "did you ever hear such news as this?"
"Never," answered the old man. The chief then turned to the missionary, and said, "Sir, I love you much; but the words of the Resurrection are too great for me. I do not wish to hear about the dead rising again. The dead cannot rise — the dead shall not rise."

"Tell me, my friend, why not?" said the missionary.
"I have slain my thousands — shall they arise?" The thought completely overwhelmed him. How dare he meet those whom he had injured or slain?

Oh, that on that great day every reader of these pages may arise in the likeness of Christ, to share His kingdom and glory.