by T. Austin-Sparks
REALIZING CHRIST'S PRESENCE
I suppose
it is true that most of the Lord's servants would
acknowledge their indebtedness to some men of God whose
influence had been a help to them. I gladly make this
confession in quite a number of instances. In the earlier
days of my ministry, when there was a true heart-hunger
for God's fullest and best for my life, I was greatly
inspired and helped by the life and ministry of such
greatly-used servants of God as Dr. A. J. Gordon (of
Boston), Dr. A. T. Pierson (of Philadelphia originally),
Dr. A. B. Simpson (Founder of the Christian and
Missionary Alliance), Dr. F. B. Meyer, Dr. Campbell
Morgan, and others. In my earliest days of ministry a
little book came into my hand with some messages by Dr.
A. J. Gordon. I have forgotten its title and have quite
lost trace of it. But it opened my eyes to a new level of
spiritual life, and was like the door into a spiritual
world of which I knew very little. When in Boston in 1925
(my first visit to that country) I made a point of
visiting the church (Clarendon) where Dr. Gordon
fulfilled his main life-work. I was deeply disappointed
at finding nothing that spoke of my dear spiritual
benefactor, but I pursued him in his books, which I found
in Philadelphia. Among these books, and connected with
his volume on the Lord's Coming Again, I found his
'dream' - 'How Christ Came to Church'. I am giving the
substance of that 'dream' here, with its larger context
and purpose. Here it is:
"Not that I attach any importance to dreams or ever
have done so. Of the hundreds which have come in the
night season I cannot remember one which has proved to
have had any prophetic significance either for good or
ill. As a rule, moreover, dreams are incongruous rather
than serious, a jumble of impossible conditions in which
persons and things utterly remote and unconnected are
brought together in a single scene. But the one which I
now describe was unlike any other within my remembrance
in that it was so orderly in its movement, so consistent
in its parts, and so fitly framed together as a whole. I
recognize it only as a dream; and yet I confess that the
impression of it was so vivid that in spite of myself
memory brings it back to me again and again, as though it
were an actual occurrence in my personal history.
"And yet why should it be told or deliberately
committed to print? 'I will come to visions and
revelations of the Lord', says the apostle. His was
undeniably a real, divinely given, and supernatural
vision. But from the ecstasy of it, wherein he was caught
up into paradise and heard unspeakable words, he
immediately lets himself down to the common level of
discipleship. 'Yet of myself I will not glory but in my
infirmities.' God help us to keep to this good confession
evermore, and if perchance any unusual lesson is taught
even 'in visions of the night when deep sleep falleth on
men' let us not set ourselves up as the Lord's favourites
to whom He has granted especial court privileges in the
kingdom of heaven. No, the dream is not repeated as
though it were credentials of peculiar saintship, or as
though by it God had favoured me with a supernatural
revelation; but because it contains a simple and obvious
lesson, out of which the entire book which we are now
writing has been evolved.
"It was Saturday night, when wearied from the work
of preparing Sunday's sermon, that I fell asleep and the
dream came. I was in the pulpit before a full
congregation, just ready to begin my sermon, when a
stranger entered and passed slowly up the left aisle of
the church looking first to the one side and then to the
other as though silently asking with his eyes that some
one would give him a seat. He had proceeded nearly
half-way up the aisle when a gentleman stepped out and
offered him a place in his pew, which was quietly
accepted. Excepting the face and features of the
stranger, everything in the scene is distinctly
remembered - the number of the pew, the Christian man who
offered its hospitality, the exact seat which was
occupied. Only the countenance of the visitor could never
be recalled. That his face wore a peculiarly serious
look, as of one who had known some great sorrow, is
clearly impressed on my mind. His bearing, too, was
exceedingly humble, his dress poor and plain, and from
the beginning to the end of the service he gave the most
respectful attention to the preacher. Immediately as I
began my sermon my attention became riveted on this
hearer. If I would avert my eyes from him for a moment
they would instinctively return to him, so that he held
my attention rather than I held his till the discourse
was ended.
"To myself I said constantly: 'Who can that stranger
be?' and then I mentally resolved to find out by going to
him and making his acquaintance as soon as the service
should be over. But after the benediction had been given
the departing congregation filed into the aisles and
before I could reach him the visitor had left the house.
The gentleman with whom he had sat remained behind,
however; and approaching him with great eagerness I
asked: 'Can you tell me who that stranger was who sat in
your pew this morning?' In the most matter-of-course way
he replied: 'Why, do you not know that man? It was Jesus
of Nazareth.' With a sense of the keenest disappointment
I said: 'My dear sir, why did you let Him go without
introducing me to Him? I was so desirous to speak with
Him.' And with the same nonchalant air the gentleman
replied: 'Oh, do not be troubled. He has been here today,
and no doubt He will come again.'
"And now came an indescribable rush of emotion. As
when a strong current is suddenly checked, the stream
rolls back upon itself and is choked in its own foam, so
the intense curiosity which had been going out toward the
mysterious hearer now returned upon the preacher: and the
Lord Himself 'whose I am and whom I serve' had been
listening to me today. What was I saying? Was I preaching
on some popular theme in order to catch the ear of the
public? Well, thank God, it was of Himself I was
speaking. However imperfectly done, it was Christ and Him
crucified whom I was holding up this morning. But in what
spirit did I preach? Was it 'Christ crucified preached in
a crucified style'? Or did the preacher magnify himself
while exalting Christ? So anxious and painful did these
questionings become that I was about to ask the brother
with whom He had sat if the Lord had said anything to him
concerning the sermon, but a sense of propriety and
self-respect at once checked the suggestion. Then
immediately other questions began with equal vehemence to
crowd into the mind. 'What did He think of our sanctuary,
its gothic arches, its stained windows its costly and
powerful organ? How was He impressed with the music and
the order of the worship?' It did not seem at the moment
as though I could ever again care or have the smallest
curiosity as to what men might say of preaching, worship,
or church, if I could only know that He had not been
displeased, that He would not withhold His feet from
coming again because He had been grieved at what He might
have seen or heard.
"We speak of 'a momentous occasion'. This though in
sleep, was recognized as such by the dreamer - a
lifetime, almost an eternity of interest crowded into a
single solemn moment. One present for an hour who could
tell me all I have so longed to know, who could point out
to me the imperfections of my service; who could reveal
to me my real self, to whom, perhaps I am most a
stranger; who could correct the errors in our worship to
which long usage and accepted tradition may have rendered
us insensible. While I had been preaching for a half-hour
He had been here and listening who could have told me all
this and infinitely more - and my eyes had been holden
that I knew Him not; and now He had gone. 'Yet a little
while I am with you and then I go unto him that sent me.'
"One thought, however, lingered in my mind with
something of comfort and more of awe. 'He has been
here today, and no doubt He will Come again'; and
mentally repeating these words as one regretfully
meditating on a vanished vision, 'I awoke, and it was a
dream'. No, it was not a dream. It was a vision of the
deepest reality, a miniature of an actual ministry,
verifying the statement often repeated that sometimes we
are most awake toward God when we are asleep toward the
world."
That is the 'dream' and its effect on Dr. Gordon as
inspiring him to write on "He will come again".
But what of the larger context? Firstly, its effect upon
myself. The effect has been to make me always - in
leading any service - keep as high and reverent a level
as possible. To maintain a dignity, respect, and 'good
taste' worthy of such an honourable presence as that of
our Lord. The result is that anything 'cheap',
undignified 'loose', in leadership is very abhorrent to
me, although I trust that I am not haughty and superior.
This leads to my real purpose in writing in this way.
In another place in this little paper we have had to
dwell upon the very low behaviour of some Christians in
the Church at Corinth. It is a picture of behaviour -
especially in the Assembly - which is so very unworthy of
Christ and would seem to imply an almost total loss of
the sense of His presence. Do you not feel, dear friends,
that there is a lot of room for a recovered sense of
reverence and dignity in our gatherings? Should this be
artificial, induced by dim light, soft music, stained
glass windows, and solemn procession? Our Lord - the
glorious Son of God, Creator of all things, exalted above
all dignities in the universe, destined to be the
sovereign Ruler of the universe - has said:
"Wheresoever two or three are gathered in my name, there
I am." "There I am!" Oh, how much there is
that results from not realizing His presence! The noisy
chatter before and immediately after 'worship'(?). I dare
not list the things which would not be if there was a due
respect for His presence. Dr. Gordon may have spoken of
Him as "Jesus of Nazareth", and referred to His
lowly appearance, but when he realized who had
been present he was almost devastated with shame and
self-confusion. 'Jesus of Nazareth here, watching,
listening, feeling'?'
What respect have we for Him? Are we such victims of our
natural senses, our eyesight, that because we do not see
Him in the flesh, we are without spiritual sensibility?
When we ask Him to be present do we really realize who it
is that we invite? What would we do if we knew that some
very high dignitary in this world was coming amongst us?
I am sure that we should derive much more blessing from
His presence if we were more "in the Spirit" of
that presence. But, not only on one day in the week, and
when we 'go to church', but we ask for His presence
always. This is my word of appeal.
- T. Austin-Sparks.
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