Jesus
said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though
he may die, he shall live. And
whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.
John
11:25-26
We
are not left of God
So
long as a rose blooms at our window-pane;
So
long as the sun shines and the soft rain
Calls
forth the early violets from the sod.
If
but a wild brier by our pathway nod,
After
its winter death wakened again,
Seeing
its life we may forget our pain
Of
unbelief. Who brings forth life but God?
He
stains with tender tint the lily's lip;
Feeds
with incessant care the insect crew;
Drops
honey for the wandering bee to sip
In
a white chalice set with pearls of dew.
The
glow-worm hath its lamp; the firefly's light
Is
but a pledge of love writ on the night.
F.W.
BUTTS
Did
you ever climb the winding staircase in the interior of some great monument or
tower? At intervals, as you ascended, you came to a window which let in a
little light, and through which, as you looked out, you had a glimpse of a
great expanse of fair and lovely world outside the dark tower. You saw green
fields, rich gardens, picturesque landscapes, streams flashing like flowing
silver in the sunshine, the blue sea yonder; and far away, on the other hand,
the shadowy forms of great mountains. How little, how dark, how poor and
cheerless, seemed the close, narrow limits of your staircase as you looked out
upon the illimitable view that stretched from your window!
Life in this world is
like the ascent of such a column. But while we climb heavily and wearily up its
steep, dark stairway—there lies, outside the thick walls, a glorious world
reaching away into eternity, beautiful and filled with the rarest things of
God's love. And thoughts of immortality, when they come to us, are little windows
through which we have glimpses of the infinite sweep and stretch of life beyond
this hampered, broken, fragmentary existence of earth.
The doctrine of the
resurrection is one of these windows. It opens to us a vista running way beyond
the grave. Death is a mere episode, a mere experience, an incident on the way.
Even the grave, which seems to quench all the light of life, is but a chamber
in which we shall disrobe ourselves of the infirmities, blemishes and
imperfections of mortality—and be re-clothed in the holy, spotless vesture of
immortality.
Thus winter comes, and
the leaves fall, the flowers fade, the plants die—and snow wraps the earth in a
blanket of death. But spring comes again, and the buds burst out anew, the
flowers lift their heads and the grasses shoot up once more. From beneath the
great snowdrifts—the gentlest and most delicate forms of life come as fresh and
fragrant as if they had been nourished in a conservatory. Nature rises from the
grave of winter in new beauty and luxuriance. In place of the sere leaves, and
faded loveliness, and exhausted vigor of the autumn—there is now all the
splendor of new creation! Every leaf is green, every pore is flowing full of
vital sap, and every flower pours sweetest fragrance on the air.
The grave is but life's
winter, from whose darkness and chill we shall come with unwasted beauty. Then,
way beyond this strange experience, as we look out at the window again—we see
life going on, expanding, deepening, enriching.
When the truth of
immortal existence comes into our personal consciousness, it opens a wonderful
vista before us. It gives life a new glory. It furnishes one of the most
powerful motives for noble living.
Life may seem a failure
here—crushed like a lily under the heel of wrong or sin—broken, trampled, torn.
But it may yet become a glorious success. Many of the truest and best of God's
children, know only defeat in this world. They are evermore beaten back and
thrust down. The burdens are too heavy for them. They are overmastered by
sorrows. The world's enmity treads them in the dust. They are not worldly-wise,
and while others march by to great earthly success—they live obscurely,
oppressed, cheated, wronged, and lie buried away in the darkness….
If the vista did not
reach beyond the bare and cold room in which these suffering ones breathe their
last—we might drop a tear of pity over their sad story of defeat. But when the
curtain is lifted—and we see millions of years of existence for them on the
other side—we dry our tears. There will be time enough for them to retrieve the
failure of earth. Through the love and grace of Christ, the defeated Christian
life that goes out in the darkness here—may be restored to beauty and power,
and in the long ages beyond death may realize all the hopes that seemed utterly
wrecked in this world.
The translation of a
Christian life from earth to heaven—is but like the removal of a tender plant
from a cold northern garden, where it is stunted and dying—into a tropical
field, where it puts out most luxuriant growths and covers itself with
splendor!
Thus the glimpses we get
through the little dim windows in the walls of our earthly life—should give a
new meaning to our existence here, and to all our multiplied relationships.
With immortality glowing before us, our brief years on earth should be marked
by earnestness, reverence, love and faithfulness. Soon we shall break out of
our narrow circle—and traverse the boundless fields that we see now only in the
far-away and momentary glimpse. But it will be a blessed thing if we can get
into our hearts even here, something of the personal consciousness of our
immortality, with its limitless possessions and possibilities, and feel
something in our souls—of the power of an endless life!
J.R. MILLER -1880
Glimpses
at Life’s Window
