Poems and Short Features
them to the uttermost.
Dear Brother John. He was there from raising of the little maid, to cloud of glory that descended to engulf that vision of the Masters face that shone upon the mount. Dear John was there! How many times had he reflected on those scenes, nor did he ever tire of their retelling.
Now he is old. Other disciples of Jesus have ended their course. Soon he must go too, and he is prompted to write down the things he remembers with special appeal. Three gospel accounts already enriched the churchs fellowship. John knew he needed not repeat, save but in part, their precious testimony. His would be an anecdotal recollection affording deeper glimpses of that sacred time of earthly walk when that dear Master shared with those he loved. John laid no special claim to the Masters love beyond the rest. He knew that Jesus loved them all. Yet it was with a sense of awe he found himself included among that privileged company of loved ones. He could not help but describe himself with wonder at the thought, the disciple Jesus loved.
Attempting to describe that holy fellowship to that last meal together, and the sacred conversation that ensued among the olive trees, he sums up all with words so deeply felt: He loved them to the uttermost loved them to the end.
Much time has passed, but memory only deepened the appreciation of mind so full of that same spirit of his Lord. Now, as he records each moment with vivid recall, a holy smile passes over his face, broken only by moments of sweet and sacred serious thoughtfulness, betokened by the tear, whether of joy, sorrow, or the combination of both, he knew not. Fellowship with the Lord was deeper now even than in those days of physical contact.
There was no question of the Masters joy in the company of that little band of unknowns, but now could John recall with greater awareness those looks that betrayed in the Masters visage a depth of feelings which he could not fully share with even these he tenderly described as his little flock.
The Masters words he hears again, the words of life in which great depths of truth were stored compressed, for none at first can fully bear the burden of such glory themes as these. Gleams of eternal blessedness shone forth as through the veil now by the spirit rent sufficient for that glimpse of glory there, where stood the Lamb before the throne of God.
Dear John. How gratefully we praise the Lord who changed this son of thunder to his instrument of grace, and prompted him to pen for us these sacred memories. With deepest thankfulness we ponder still Johns words, indulging in the holy light they shine upon our path: That life made manifest we know, that life belonging to another realm we share with you, that with us down the age each saint may share that joy, that love, that will not let us go.
The Purpose of Miracles
Not until we shall experience our change and know as we are known shall we be able to fathom all the mysteries connected with the miracles of Jesus and the miracles which we see in ourselves and all about us today. . . .
Miracles were necessary for the introduction of the Gospel message to identify our Lord with the prophecies and to prepare the nucleus of the church for the spirit baptism; but in later years, throughout the Gospel age, the Lord has given his people the opportunity of still greater blessing by withholding the miracles and allowing us to believe in him and to accept him without the attestation of wonders.
One of the greatest wonders, one of the greatest miracles, one that is more convincing to us than any other could be, is the change which the divine message has wrought in our own heartstransforming us through the power of the holy spirit. Not only do we see this transforming power at work in others, changing them from glory to glory and preparing them for the final glorious change of the first resurrection, but additionally we experience it in our own hearts and appreciate the fact that the things that we once hated now we love, and the things we once loved now we hate. The poet gave the right thought when he exclaimed, I am a miracle of grace.
Reprints, p. 3495