THE LITTLE WHILE
Its Significance to the Life of Christians
IT was during Easter week that Jesus spoke the word about the little while in which the disciples were not to see Him, and in which they would be brought to the very brink of despair while the world enjoyed itself in a fleeting exuberance of victory. The little while with its deep, its hopeless sorrow lasted for the disciples from Good Friday until Easter Sunday, and, forsooth, their weeping was heartrending, their plaints most gripping. Jesus had been taken away from them, and they did not understand that it behooved Him to suffer this and then to enter into glory; nor did they realize that they would themselves, in a little while, be mature, so as to win the world for the Lord who now had been nailed onto a cross.
Darkness enveloped the earth for three hours so the rays of the sun were unable to penetrate it; but still denser was the spiritual darkness which had gathered about the disciples: There was no glimpse of light, no hope! For He who, as they had hoped, was to have redeemed Israel, had breathed His last on the cross. The words of the Lord were literally fulfilled upon them; they wept and lamented. At this moment they were unable to cling to the promise of the Lord: "I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice and your joy no man taketh from you."
But were we able at this moment to see the apostles before us and to ask them: What do you think of the brief hours of despair in your lives—and especially of that which was the most sorrowful of all? I am certain they would answer: It was, indeed, a most significant "little while," and all the brief moments of despair throughout life have been so valuable that we could not have done without them. But if this were so, as far as the apostles were concerned, then it must be the same for us, and with this in view we will ask:
What, then, is the meaning of the distressful "little whiles" to the life of Christians? Those dark and burdensome hours when the tears moisten our eyes; and darkness gathers about our souls; those hours which we would rather be without but which we can so ill afford to dispense with. I might answer quite briefly thus: It is during those moments that we are moulded by the hands of the Father as the children of light! I know for a certainty that it was during just such moments that I became a servant of the Lord wishing from out of the depth of my soul to find the way from the evil world of deceit and darkness homeward to the eternal abodes of light. Therefore I thank the Lord also for those dark hours which came into my life, and therefore I by no means praise that man or woman happy who has known no such moments, but I do think he or she who has struggled through them to peace and rejoicing is happy.
In order to understand fully the meaning of the sad moments in the life of mankind, we will recall a few of the great men of God.
David was named the man according to the heart of God. But was he made that when he reached the highest pinnacle of his power and glory and when he with regal strength ruled the subdued neighboring nations?
I hardly think so.
It was rather during those bitter hours when he, weeping and bare-foot, was forced to flee before his own son, or when he with his heart writhing in anguish prayed: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me!" It was during such moments when he crouched in humiliation that he became disgusted with deceit and falsity, with the doings of darkness and the evil lust of the flesh. It was in such moments that he learned how to yearn from the depths of his heart for life itself: "Where thoughts are pure and deeds are unblemished."
When Peter had denied his Lord and Saviour thrice in the courtyard of the high priest and was standing without, bitter and heavy tears rolled down his cheeks; never in his life had Peter detested that denial as he did just then. How hideous it looked to him—to have denied Jesus! Undoubtedly he was thinking by himself: O, could I but find an opportunity of proclaiming Him once more—then I should do it with all the strength and sincerity of my heart.
Or Thomas! We know that after hearing the testimony of the resurrection of Jesus he said: "Except I shall see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into His side, I will not believe." Then, when he sees Jesus again and hears His gently reproachful, "Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed"—how Thomas must have been disgusted with his infidelity, and how he must have reproached himself because he had invited the evil power of doubt and unbelief into his soul. That was to happen nevermore!
These heavy hours were changed into rejoicing for such men. And it is the testimony of all men and women who have been blessed by the special grace of God that such "little whiles" have meant much to the development of their lives by giving it direction, depth and sincerity.
But how about you? Have you had similar experiences?
Many of you probably will say: We know the hours of distress—we also know how deeply depressing they may be. Even though we may not have wept and lamented, like the first disciples, because of the scorn and ridicule by the world, we often have shed tears that betrayed the presence of a wounded heart. But we did not go farther in our understanding of the meaning of the sorrowful moments. We have felt their pressure, but we have lost sight of their blessedness; we have been unable to discover the gain which they mean to our lives.
Look to the depths of your own soul and then tell me: Do you not feel the hidden connection between the sin, as it had attained power in your soul, and the pressure of the brief, sorrow-laden moments? Have you not also in such moments felt a truer, a more sincere and deeper disgust with the evil character of sin, than otherwise? Did not that wish soar upward from the very bottom of your soul: Would I were relieved of all that is evil so that I might live with "all my thoughts pure, and all my deeds unblemished"?
But if you have felt this, then you already are somewhat conscious of the blessedness of the moments of distress, for that is what is asked of us first of all. Without disgust with the evil being of sin we cannot renounce the devil and all his works and all his ways.
But is that all to which the brief, sorrow-laden moments can guide and help us? No—the faith of the disciples was strengthened during the little while. It is true that their faith wavered in that while, and that it looked as though it would collapse, but this was not the agony of death, but the pangs of birth.
Hitherto they had been accustomed to seeing Jesus and then believing in Him. Now that faith was to be born which would cling to him through His word without seeing Him. During the little while it looked as though Jesus had suffered defeat and the world had conquered. But after the resurrection the disciples saw the meaning of it all: Jesus had taken death upon Himself not because He was vanquished but because the Father, in His unfathomable wisdom and His eternal love, had thus decided it for the purpose of salvation.
They knew now that no matter how discouraging the outlook might be, no matter how loudly the world might proclaim its victory—His word was to be depended upon. And firm in this faith they went out to conquer the world for Jesus Christ after having received the spirit from Above. Often it looked to them as it did on Good Friday, but instead of weeping and lamenting they sang hymns of praise to the Lord fully convinced that He was the strongest. Their faith had been strengthened so as to bear the resistance of the world, and rejoicing had taken up its everlasting abode in their hearts. The little while had been the hour of birth of the faith which was to conquer all the world, and gain the eternal state of blessedness.
Thus the little dark moments have a meaning in the lives of Christians, aside from filling us with detestation of the evil ways of sin. They must be hours of birth through which our faith shall emerge renewed and invigorated until it appears as that firm faith which wins the great victory over the world.
And if there is anything of which we stand in need, in addition to being filled with horror at the phantoms of deceit, the evil ways of darkness—it is the firm faith and the eternal joy of blessedness which give us strength to become more and more the children of God, immaculate before His face, and by which we can be easily recognized as children of light in a world darkened by sin.
The world still rejoices and still—after a struggle of almost two thousand years—thinks it shall conquer the church of the Lord. Now and then we are told that in another hundred years Christianity will be something entirely different, adjusted to the trend of thought—or that it will have lost all its strength. When we face this haughty scorn of the world, we need the firm belief that although the world thinks it will triumph, it will still collapse. For the Lord is Almighty: The great powerful world will never be able to remain longer, or to progress farther, than He permits.
Then there is the joy which no one can take away from us. It is the joy of blessedness in which all the sorrows of life vanish, just as the pangs of birth are lost in the exuberant joy of the thought that a new human being has been brought into the world. It is with the joy of blessedness as with maternal love: It is made through travail and suffering, and no one can take it away from us!
Ah, how it irritated and angered Jews and heathen when they were unable to deprive the ancient Christians of this joy even in the moment of death! When Stephen appeared before the council, and his face was like the face of an angel because the joy of Heaven reposed within his soul—they cut to the heart and they gnashed with their teeth, cast him out of the city, and stoned him. But his joy they could not take away from him: Would that this might abide among us in greater fullness, for it is that very joy which gives us the touch of gentleness, mildness and loveliness!
The Christian may say about the "little whiles" that are full of vexation, what Joseph said to his brethren: "God made everything right in order to do what He now hath done, and to preserve life." The "little whiles" may be heavy with trouble and sorrow, but it is an irremovable truth in the church of the Lord that He changes them into good purposes in order to preserve our lives.
It must have been difficult for the disciples to understand the Lord's word about the "little while"—and it is difficult for us amidst our adversity to absorb thoroughly the fact that God will turn our sorrow into joy—that, forsooth, sorrow itself is pregnant with joy, shall become joy, and that these "little whiles" are necessary to the development and the ripening of the Christian life. It was only when the disciples had lived through the little while and seen the Lord once more that they understood His words. So also with us. The dark "little whiles" in our life are to be read—like the Hebraic scriptures—backward. Only when we have lived through these dark moments and when joy has found anew the way to our hearts, are we beginning to realize their meaning.
They were hours of redemption and hours of birth. Through them we became disgusted with the evil ways of sin to such an extent that the Son of man found it possible to set us actually free. They were the hours of birth for the world-conquering faith and for the everlasting joy of blessedness.
We have seen the Lord again when the hours of sorrow had passed, and we have felt His presence among us.
God made everything right in order to preserve our life eternal.