01.11. Chapter 11 The Feet of Jesus—the Place of Personal Suffering

Chapter 11 The Feet of Jesus—the Place of Personal Suffering "They have pierced My hands and My feet!" Psalms 22:16 This Psalm in its almost every letter, is so associated with the particular points of our blessed Lord’s suffering upon the cross, that we feel a kind of holy jealousy as to the least change in the well known words. Happily the scholarship which appears to necessitate a slight alteration in the passage, does not really rob us of any old familiar thought, or more important still, of a great and precious fact. The verse is best rendered, "They lion-like, have pierced My hands and My feet!"

We are not concerned at the change which seems to be required, for it detracts nothing from the great fact of the piercing, or of its being foretold. It only embodies in imagery the same great fact, suggesting to our minds the activity of the ferocity with which the wounds were inflicted on the hands and feet of Jesus. Our first subject shall be, The Feet of Jesus—the Place of Personal Suffering. The lions have indeed encircled Him, they have come into contact with Him; they have done so, in the only way which we could expect them to do—they have torn Him! The nail is driven through His feet, even as it is through His hands—the marks of the wild beast’s claws are in both hands and feet! The nails are no mere pieces of iron—but the envenomed fangs of ferocious foes!

Here then we have Jesus in pain—in acute personal suffering, from the piercing and wounding of hands and feet.

We must first pause upon the picture of Christ in pain.

Now, when we come to speak of pain at all, we enter upon profound mystery. The problem of the existence of pain is perhaps one of the most difficult which can be submitted to us for solution. WHY should there be pain? Why should Jesus the Son of God—have suffered it?

We are told that in the far off history of this world—that there was pain. "The leaves of the stone book of geology have written on them not merely records of death—but likewise of pain. The fossil fishes which abound in many of our strata, are not found stretched out in the postures of repose, which they would have assumed had they perished calmly; but like men who die in battle, with agony upon them, their bodies are thrown into violent contortions. Historically, pain is ingrained and inseparably interwoven into the whole fabric of our earthly system."

There is little use in our speculating as to the origin of pain; just as little as in our speculating on the origin of evil; or as to whether the one and the other were always inseparably connected. It is not given to us to know these things. Enough for us to call to mind that the very first mention of the Lord is in connection with ’suffering’—that His heel is being bruised. The first promise then, connects Jesus with pain. It leaves the problem of evil, and of pain as in connection with it, unsolved—but it does connect Him with it. He is not represented as the unscathed destroyer of pain—as the One, who from the power of stamping on the head of His foe—can escape unhurt himself; but as an endurer of pain—a wounded victor, hurt, and that sorely, in the conflict in which He overcomes His foe! In this great problem of pain—Jesus is in the midst of it. He has drunk the cup of suffering to the dregs; He has partaken largely of such suffering as falls to the lot of man in the flesh. He who knows all about pain, what it is—what part it plays in the great arena of God’s glory—what are its uses—what its mysteries—has let it come upon Himself, and enter His human nature—and do all that it can do against Him.

Now here, the feet of Jesus, be they torn as with a lion’s claws, or pierced as they were by the nails upon the cross—come very helpfully to us. This great problem of pain oppresses me when I think of it, when I feel it. ’Why am I thus?’ is a question which many a sufferer has put to himself; and as he cannot answer, dark thoughts cross his mind.

Jesus’ disciples ask Him, "Master, who sinned, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?" and Jesus answers, "Neither has this man sinned, nor his parents—but that the works of God should be made manifest in him."

Lazarus’ sickness, with its temporary death, and whatever sufferings which he were endured, were for the glory of God—that the Son of God might be glorified thereby.

There were plenty of others lying dead, upon whom, as we might have thought, resurrection power might have been shown—without Lazarus, a living man, being made to suffer and to die. But we are told of this particular case that, it was "for the glory of God." But WHY? Why can God not be glorified without suffering? Ah, there is the problem—and we have no means whatever of even guessing at a solution. But the pain presses—the pain of others—and our own pain. I am practically in the problem; yet so was Christ! I look at Him in His life sufferings, I see Him on the cross, lion-like enemies besetting His hands and feet during life; and lion-like claws fixed in those nailed feet at His death, and I say, "As He was—so are we in this world."

Pain is in itself sinless; Jesus took it on Himself, therefore it cannot separate me from God. He said, "The cup which my Father has given me—shall I not drink it?" Therefore in suffering this pain, whatever it may be, I am in sympathy with the mind of God. My spirit and my body stagger at being in this place, and under these circumstances of trial—but I am where Christ was—and therefore though I suffer, I need not fear; the working out of the problem of my present suffering, is in the hand of God! When the feet of Jesus were nailed to the cross—He left all with His Father. He left it thus, as He said, "Father into your hands I commend My spirit!" Even so, we must, if need be, simply suffer, pierced through—yet saying, "Father into your hands I commend my spirit!

Vast and overwhelming as is this problem of suffering, let us remember that, although we cannot grasp its great circumference, we can be sure of one or two matters of immense importance to ourselves.

One is, that there may be great dignity in suffering. Another lesson is that we individually may emerge well from suffering; indeed we may be immense gainers out of it! And a third lesson is that Christ is linked to us in suffering; those pierced feet bind Him to all the piercings of humanity; and, if we might so express ourselves with reverence, hold Him in that position. And all this is, because so it was with the suffering and piercing of our Lord. We are in fellowship with Him in the mystery of pain!

Thus much in part do we learn from Christ’s feet being pierced with those cruel nails, and suffering physical pain.

Now let us consider the Feet of Jesus—as the Means of Escape.

Here we have first of all, the means of escape willingly allowed to be cut off. Jesus knew full well, when He went forth into the garden, that His enemies would come there, that there was one who knew the place, and who would make a dreadful and fatal use of that knowledge.

It was night, and there was every possibility of escape; for the feet which took Jesus to the place of betrayal, might have taken Him from it. And for anything we know, it may have been a part of the trial of our Lord, to feel that moment after moment was passing, each one lessening the opportunities for escape; that He could go—but that those feet must tarry until Judas came—whose kiss would conduct them to the cross. The feet of Jesus tarried in that garden, not because His flesh and blood would not have desired in themselves to have had them bear Him far away—but because in perfect obedience He was not only to endure suffering when it came—but also to await it while it was coming. And when at last Jesus hung upon the cross, with hands and feet both transfixed; what was He but a spectacle of utter helplessness—the means of defense and of escape both gone?

Surely, there is something very touching and instructional to us—in this yielding of Himself by Christ to God. How few of us have arrived at that state of subjugation of self which makes one willing to forego struggling—to await the oncoming of the painful dispensation—and to accept the helplessness of the dispensation when it comes. We need every help to enable us to do this; let us accept this one—of a contemplation of Jesus’ feet nailed and pierced. Those feet were in their very helplessness, at that time, the embodiment of an amazing will. And have we ever thought that—an amazing will for oneness with the mind of God may be found in our simple readiness to see means of escape fail and come to nothing. The feet tarrying in Gethsemane and fixed to the Cross, are the same; and the preliminaries of our sorrows, and our sorrows themselves, should be pervaded by the one spirit also. The position of helplessness is willingly taken up. The time had come for it. Jesus had escaped from His enemies on previous occasions—but now His hour had come, and with it—His will was ready also. Jesus accepts the position of helplessness.

Now, here is a great difference between the sufferings of Jesus—and ours. We too often bear suffering, only because we cannot help it; we, as the saying is, make a ’virtue of necessity,’ as our will is not in our trial.

It may be that, we do not think much of the helplessness which it was the will of Jesus to assume for us; how He thirsted and could not get water at the well of Sychar without human help; how He hung upon the cross, nailed hand and foot and could not stir.

Surely Jesus as He thus hung helplessly on the cross—was in this respect, as in many others, a representative man. His people were destined often to be brought into positions of utter helplessness, which they were to accept as fulfilling the will of God. And they could—IF they had only marked the feet nailed to the cross, look back on Jesus hanging there, and in that sight find strength and endurance, and more than resignation, even entire conformity with the Father’s mind. When the executioner drove those nails through the feet of Jesus—he wrote many helpful sermons for the church of God—yes, without even knowing it.

Helplessness has trials peculiarly its own. It is a specially humbling condition. It is one into which God has frequently called His people. Jeremiah, Job, Ezekiel, Daniel, Paul—all had trials of it. And few children of God there are—who cannot look back, and see times of helplessness in their past lives.

Perhaps we dread such in the future; we think, ’this my comfort and support will leave me!’ Or, ’this means of earning my bread will be taken from me!’ Or, ’I shall be put into such circumstances that I shall be totally hedged in!’ And we fear that our old energies will be gone and we cannot resist, or stand up as we used to do against such things. We shall be nailed helpless to our cross—and not be able to stir. The cross will enable us to meet all such thoughts—if we know how to use the sight which we see there. His feet, afterwards free with such a liberty as was never known by mortal man, are now nailed! And as with Jesus so with us—’tis but a little while, and God will deliver and crown us.

There was something peculiarly galling to Jesus—in remaining thus nailed helplessly to the cross. For He knew He had the power to escape. "If You be the Son of God—come down from the cross!" had in it an element of bitterness which the human nature of Jesus must have felt. For He could have come down. He had the power to escape—but there was a higher power—of love to God and man which forbad the using it. Only that could not be revealed to those who were around—so there He hung, His acceptance of that fixing by the nails and bearing of the imputation of being an impostor; for if He came down the Jews said that they would believe.

It was a part of our blessed Savior’s trial, that He had to allow Himself to be misunderstood; that when the Jews cried, "If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!" that He should abstain from coming, and let them, in their willful blindness, believe Him to be an ordinary man.

There is sometimes a morbid glorying in being misunderstood. Some people when mistreated, they comfort themselves all the while with the thought of their great virtue in quietly bearing to be so abused. They have a spiteful pleasure in the thought that so-and-so is wrong in his opinion, and would not correct him—but would rather that he continued wrong. And so their principle of endurance is one of self-satisfaction and self-exaltation! This is all the more dangerous, because so inwardly hidden. And it is astonishing how far such a state of feeling will carry a man—how much it will enable him to bear—how much it will take the bitterness out of being misunderstood. But how was it with Jesus? He had already given His proofs; He had told and shown them what He was. This last proof He could not give them, unless at the loss of His people’s salvation—and so He had to bear the imputation of being no Savior at all. This being misunderstood was, no doubt, one of the elements of the bitterness of the cross.

It is true, Christ knew that the righting time would come—but the present was the present to Him for all that—it must have been if His humanity were true. For the good of others—to patiently to allow ourselves to be misunderstood, when we could easily clear ourselves, is Christ-like indeed. "Come down from that cross!" they said. And had the pierced feet moved at their call—how could we have been saved? But the pierced feet stay still; and a voice comes to us from the foot of the cross, saying, ’You be still also.’ Deep pity there doubtless was in the heart of Jesus for those by whom He was misunderstood —pity was what He felt, and not self-satisfaction, or hate—yet the very pity made it the harder to bear. So perhaps it may be with all misunderstandings from which we suffer—but God may provide a clearing time; and we must let that suffice.

Jesus had to veil His power upon the cross. He held that power, not for self-aggrandizement, or self-vindication, or self-deliverance—but for His Father’s will; and He had to hear its existence called into question, and yet give no reply. That which was His own, it was His pleasure to consider as in trust; and the carrying out of the trust involved humiliation. "He saved others—but He cannot save Himself." A very important teaching flows from this, for our daily Christian life. We have much, which, speaking of things in an ordinary way, we say is our own. How far have we attained to the idea of ’our own being in trust’—of our holding it as such? The motionless, pierced feet of Jesus, by the fact of their being motionless, teach us this lesson of power in trust. So, then, it is not because I can do this or that, or have the right to do it—that I can choose to do so. If I have given all to God—I hold all in trust from God, and for Him. It is a blessed experience when we will to hold in trust for God, that, which, speaking in the ordinary sense of words, we might say is our own.

It was an element of Christ’s power over Himself, that He knew He had to subordinate all to a purpose—this was one of the human elements of His power. "Don’t you know that I must be about my Father’s business," was the motto of His life—and also of His death. He had a His Father’s will to fulfill; and power and everything else were subordinated to this. To a like source may be traced the success of many a man in life; if his pursuit has been that of honor, or wealth, or scientific investigation, if he has subordinated everything in his life to it—he has generally succeeded. There is one sense in which it is good to be a man of one purpose. Paul said, "This one thing I do." In Christ’s human character, the power of purpose was supreme—it wrought to its legitimate end. And He calls upon us—to rise under the His example—and be people of purpose; subordinates to purpose—yes, and successful in purpose. That was what Paul was, when he says, in 1 Corinthians 9:27, that "I beat my body and make it my slave." That is what we have not done, and therefore why we have so often failed.

See in the pierced feet remaining motionless on the cross—the power of purpose.

Recognize also in the One hanging helplessly there, the Man of power in Himself—the One stronger than all who were around. The pierced feet could set themselves free—but would not. And no one saw this. The secret was with Christ Himself alone.

We do not see all the strong men in the spiritual world—in all probability, there are very few of them. God’s strong ones are often hidden ones. Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, He ordains strength.

Perhaps one of the greatest displays of strength that Jesus ever really made, (though man recognized it not) was when He refused to answer the mocking taunt, and disengage the pierced feet from the cross! And who can tell where displays, far less in their degree—but like in kind, are now being made! And we may make them. We may be the strong men of God in our circumstances of weakness; in our times of piercings, down-trodden by the world, and in its estimation; strong ones by the grace of God, and before God.

There are times when the people of God are put in a position somewhat like Christ’s; when they could speak—but their tongue is tied—when they could act—but they must not stir—when they could extricate themselves from some unpleasantness—but they must bear it. No one knows the secret of our reticence, but ourselves; and so, no one can administer any comfort to us in what we are enduring, or can help us to hold out. But we are not without a Helper, and a Sympathizer too. Jesus knows all about these painful positions; He presents Himself before us with His feet nailed to the cross. He is taunted, He is called upon to come down—but He stirs not, He endures. He accepts the peculiar bitterness belonging to the situation; and He says to us ’In all your afflictions, I was afflicted; and have suffered in all points like you, only without sin.’ But this position has another side. All sufferings have another beside that which is at first presented to the view, in the aspect of bare endurance. This position of helplessness was one of peculiar nobility. It was one in which Christ could and did exercise great mastery over SELF—over what would have been the impulses of mere human nature.

Power rightly used—is always noble; and Christ used His power to remain where, and as, He was. There was perfect mastery over ’self.’

Now, it is in this way that we are to look at positions of helplessness. We are not to fret ourselves about, or lament over, our apparent feebleness; we are really altogether above what they seem to be. And it is by this thought that we are to comfort, and strengthen, and calm ourselves, in all our trial times, when the trial assumes this form.

God wills us to have perceptive power for true honor—for that which lies underneath the outward husk and show of things—for that which is so in His eyes. And we may be sure the true honor is to be found in all positions in which He places us; many a sick-bed is a greater place of power than a throne—when the one who lies helpless there, has mastery over his self. The pierced feet were to all human appearance, in a place of weakness; but they are in reality, a place of power; and so it may be with us. Let us see what underlies our position when we are pierced and helpless; and we shall often become not only contented—but even satisfied with our lot. This piercing was a part of a great accomplishment. It was not a final position, and Jesus knew this well. It was a part of a great whole; and Jesus put it in its proper place. He knew that for a few hours the feet must be pierced; and as terrible as that piercing was, He appropriated to it its own place—but no more. And this is the very way in which we are to deal with our piercings, however bitter they may be at the time. They are not final. They do not form a perfect circle in themselves. They are but a part of a great whole; and that great whole means glory to God, and profit and comfort and everything good to ourselves.

Jesus knew that for a little while, that His pierced feet were in the appointed place; but that yet after a little while, and they would come forth from the grave, and ascend from the mount; and that beneath those feet His enemies would be subdued, and become His footstool. When we allow our sufferings to assume an aspect of finality, and completeness in themselves, we give them a power over us which is not according to the ordinance of God. We put more into the suffering than He ever intended to be there. We throw it out of gear; and looking at it by itself, and as unconnected with other things, we become depressed and confused, and often take up altogether a wrong train of thought with reference to it.

We are living in a fragment in every possible way—in a fragment of time—in a fragment of experience; and if we persist in making a part the whole—we will go altogether astray.

Jesus, we can well believe, assigned to the piercing of His feet—its proper place as a part of the great accomplishment; and let us try to connect our individual sorrows with the great whole. No doubt we have the disadvantage of being ignorant of what the whole is; but we need not be troubled about that. It is in the main—God’s glory, and our truest and largest good—good, for the bringing about of which it may be that these sufferings were absolutely necessary, though we know not why. And thus the cross connects itself in an unexpected way—with our daily life; not only as regards the great sacrifice hanging thereon—but as regards the incidentals of that sacrifice also. Those pierced feet are in connection with sofas and beds, and reduced finances, and trials of many a kind. There are lines of union drawn between them all—and the cross; every one of our piercings has a counterpart in those of Christ. And especially if we are acting nobly, in intelligent appreciation of God’s will and glory in our trial. For all noble things—lead up to the cross. They turn to that, as plants in a dark place to the light. They rise there as incense when set free by fire, ascends in perfumed clouds towards the sky.

There is great strength and uplifting from the consciousness of sympathy with Jesus. We may, if we use the words aright, say ’His head and ours,’ ’His hands and ours,’ ’His feet and ours.’

Yes! these may be one in the performance of God’s will, in sympathy with the Divine mind. We may go through all our sufferings—in this oneness with our Lord, seeing deeper than the world sees, and fulfilling a mission which not only the world—but, perhaps, even our nearest and dearest friends may not understand.

Let us note too, the position of those feet in relation to the enemies of Christ. His foes thought they had so pinned them to the accursed tree as to bar all future progress. Little did they know future destiny of His feet—the progress which they were to make because they took up this position on the cross. They did not know that His feet would ascend on high; that they would return in power, and stand on Olivet. His feet had a mission as pierced—which they never could have had otherwise; the cross is their starting point. And where do they travel now? Let us rather ask where do they not traverse? It is with pierced feet that Jesus comes to me now; it is with pierced feet He leads me—and the leadings and the visitings of pierced feet are very precious.

It may be that in the hot sunshine of the world—that we seek such leadings but little, and but little care for such visiting. It is not pierced feet we wish to see crossing our threshold, we are not in sympathy with them; but when the glare is subdued, when we are so wrought upon by the Spirit’s mellowing influences as to be willing to receive Jesus as He really is, as God sets Him forth, and not as we would have Him—then we rejoice to see the piercings of the feet! For when Christ with such feet leads on before us—we are willing to follow after. We say, ’Here is one skilled in all of suffering. Here is one experienced in personal trial. He will lead softly, and surely, and tenderly. He will not set the pierced foot down too roughly. And when He comes to me—how gently, how meekly, albeit He is the Lord of glory, will He enter into my house!’

There will be none of the roughness of mere human authority about Him, no heavy tread, no tramp as of an armed man—but the soft step of a pierced foot.

There are many, alas! how many houses, the threshold of which Jesus would not have been allowed to pass with pierced feet. These would remind the dwellers therein, too much of the claims of the suffering One; beside which, they have enough in the world; they have no sympathy with a suffering One, they neither want Him to understand them—nor do they want to understand Him.

They think that the leadings of the One with pierced feet—can only be into piercings for themselves, that He has no paths but those of sorrow, or gloom. But the pierced feet can tread in very pleasant places; they know the way to paths of peace—they cross streams which sparkle, and meadows which flower, and heights from which distant views can be obtained; they know the cool places of the valleys; and here, as well as on rough hard stones, they often lead, and then such places are safe! When the feet of Jesus go before us—we can have no hurt.

We may here note how the pierced feet help to present us with a view of the perfection of the suffering of Christ. His whole person—from head to foot is marked as it were with these piercings—the head is crowned with thorns; the feet are pierced with nails. And at either end—we find the sounds of mockery. Pilate inscribes over the crown of thorns ’The King of the Jews!’ The Jews themselves mock at His feet, saying, "If you are the Son of God—come down from the cross!" Is this without any meaning for us? Surely a Christ, as perfect as He was from head to foot in suffering, must be especially precious to us who have so many sorrows, and of such various kinds.

Nowhere can trouble come upon us—but that He is prepared with experimental sympathy. The head, the hands, the side, the feet—are all pierced. The whole man bears the marks of woe! In our many sorrows, let us look at His completeness of suffering. Suffer however we may—let us turn to Him, and there shall we find that He suffered also! Let the spear, or the thorns, or the nails, touch us where it will, we shall be able to say, ’I am sympathized with, and understood by the One with the pierced feet!’