Sep 11
24
THE FAREWELL GIFT
“This is the resting place, let the weary rest; and this is the place of repose”—
“Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” John 14:27
No shadow of the figurative grove of Elim is more grateful to the children of humanity than this. It is in Jesus alone, and in His finished work, that the beautiful words of the Evangelical Prophet are fulfilled in the case of every pilgrim to the true Canaan—”My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest” (Is. 32:18).
The circumstances in which the Savior uttered the words of our motto-verse were interesting and peculiar, and give an intense poignancy to His declaration. It was at a time, one would have thought, of the deepest unrest and anxiety to His own soul; a time when the saying, “My peace I give to you,” would have seemed a strange and doubtful blessing: for the shadows of the cross were gathering around Him. Some consolation, higher than earth could afford, was needed, when the Shepherd was about to be smitten and the sheep to be scattered. In the clouds of that dark, troubled horizon, He set the bow of covenant Peace. His utterance was more than a promise—it is expressed in the formula of a last Will—a Testamentary deed. It is the dying legacy which the Prince of Peace bequeaths to His Church and people in every age. Let us note some of its characteristics.
It is a purchased peace. That palm whispers pre-eminently “the name of Jesus”—”Peace through the blood of His cross.” In no other way could it have been procured. By no other could it be bestowed. No voice but the voice which exclaimed in dying accents, “It is finished,” can say to the troubled tempest-tossed soul—”Peace, be still!” In the familiar Bible narrative, we see the heathen sailors rowing hard to bring the vessel to land, in whose hold was the fugitive prophet. It was in vain. “The sea was getting rougher and rougher”—wave after wave baffled strength of oar and muscle. What was their expedient? The sacrifice of the one life was demanded and surrendered for the sake of the others!
So it was with the true Jonah. When He was taken and cast into the deep, that deep was hushed into a calm, its fury stilled, every tumultuous billow was rocked to rest—”The raging sea grew calm.” “Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” He has done all, and suffered all, and procured all for us—left nothing to be supplemented by human merit. In the words of an old theologian, “We who have believed do enter into rest, and that by ceasing from our own works, as God did from His.”
It is a perfect peace. It is no simulation—no counterfeit. There is no flaw in these title-deeds. It is a peace founded on everlasting truth and everlasting righteousness, securing alike the vindication of the Divine law and the manifestation of the Divine glory. It is a peace with Godabove, and peace with conscience within—peace secured by the Redeemer on the Cross, and ratified by the Kingly Intercessor on the Throne. Like the weary bird, after tracking its way across leagues of vast ocean, the believer can enter the opened window of the True Ark, and sing the song of an older heir of covenant blessings, “Be at rest (Peace), O my soul.”
It is a permanent peace. As such, it is “not as the world gives.” Many of the world’s best blessings, those which are considered to minister most effectually to outward happiness and inward peace, ours today, may be gone tomorrow—we have no pledge or guarantee for their continuation. They are fed from the low marshy grounds of earth, dependent on fitful seasons and capricious showers. But the peace of Christ, being from heaven, is a perennial stream; it is fed from surer supply than glacier Alps, and it rolls on in undiminished fullness and volume, in summer’s drought and in winter’s cold. It is irrespective and independent of all outward accidents. It bears up and sustains in the midst of the harassments of business, the crushing of poverty, the weariness of sickness, the pangs of bereavement, the shadows of death. Well may the author of “The Pilgrim’s Progress” give the name of PEACE to the chamber in which Christian lay, and whose window opened toward the sunrise!
It is said of Goethe, the great German, that in one of those dark, unsatisfied hours in which his mighty intellect and soul groped after the true Rest, he thus recorded his undefined longings for that which he had failed to attain—
“Fairest among heaven’s daughters, Thou who stillest pain and woe,
Pourest Thy refreshing waters On the thirsty here below:
Whither tends this restless striving? Faint and tired, I long for rest.
Heaven-born peace, Come and dwell within my breast!”
These words were found on a scrap of writing paper lying on his writing table. A devoted friend of similar intellectual pursuits, but one who had personally experienced the shade of the Elim grove and tasted its perennial springs, and who therefore knew what alone could quench these ungratified aspirations, wrote on the other side, “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
PEACE—true peace. Intellect cannot bestow it; wealth cannot purchase it. Men, in their quest of it, surround and fortify themselves with creature comforts, and away from corroding care; invite the angel of peace to come and over downy couches to sing the longed-for lullaby! The lullaby is sung, “Peace, peace,” but often it is only to awaken the echo of dissatisfaction, “No peace.”
Speed your flight, O weary wanderer, under the shelter of this heavenly Palm. The bough on which your earthly nest was built may have been felled by the axe or broken by the storm; but “He is our peace.” And as driven by the windy tempest your cry is, “O Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant me Your peace!” may it be yours to listen to the glad response, “My peace I give unto you”—”Even while you sleep among the campfires, the wings of my dove are sheathed with silver, its feathers with shining gold.”
“We ask for peace, O Lord!
Thy children ask Thy peace:
Not what the world calls rest—
That toil and care should cease;
That through bright sunny hours
Calm life should haste away,
And tranquil night should fade
In smiling day—
It is not for such peace that we would pray.
“We ask Thy peace, O Lord!
Through storm, and fear, and strife,
To light and guide us on
Through a long struggling life;
To lean on Thee, entranced,
In calm and perfect rest—
Give us that peace, O Lord!
Divine and blest,
Thou keepest for those hearts that love Thee best.”
“You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You.” John MacDuff