by Joseph Parker (1867)

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Chapter XIX: Posthumous Ministry of Christ

The resurrection of Jesus Christ will not be called into question by any who pay the slightest regard to the authority of the Christian writings. On this point there is entire consistency and unanimity on the part of the witnesses: and so important is the fact of the resurrection, that the stupendous fabric of the Church has been built upon it; “for if Christ be not risen from the dead, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain.” It is not proposed, then, to go into the evidence respecting the resurrection, but to inquire what effect, if any, did the resurrection produce on the spirit and ministry of Jesus Christ? Moments of triumph put a man’s spirit to the test. Many men appear to be humble so long as all weapons of war or resources of defense are beyond their reach, who become inspired with desire for revenge when circumstances combine in their favor. How was it with Jesus Christ? Did the voice which sounded over the open grave correspond with the music which announced the lowly birth in Bethlehem? The angels sang of “good will towards men”: did Jesus Christ, after the resurrection, contradict or fulfill their song?

The writer of the first Gospel enables us to answer these inquiries. The 11 disciples met their Master by appointment upon a mountain in Galilee; their emotions were not unnaturally conflicting—“they worshipped him, but some doubted.” Jesus Christ’s first word to them, as recorded by Matthew, reveals the spirit of the Gospel in a most graphic and impressive manner: “All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth”—what then? We thought he had “all power” before, when he wrought his mighty works—to what use, however, did he put his power? When “all power” is given into the hands of a man who has been exposed to the highest indignities which society can inflict upon him, it may be expected that his enemies will not escape judgement. It is not only interesting, but most exciting to pause at the expression, “All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth,” and to conjecture how the sentence will be finished. We know how it is finished, yet so far as it is possible to move the mind back to the critical point the excitement is most intense. The language of doom might come after such an announcement; “power” might express itself in forms of vengeance, in the overturning of the Roman rule, in the expulsion of every priest who had given his voice for the cross, or in the calling down of fire upon all enemies. Such are some of the possible uses of power; what is the use which Jesus Christ makes of his omnipotence? Having asserted his possession of all power, he adds, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Jesus Christ thus taught the true use of all power. Power is only used truly as it is used educationally—“Go ye therefore and teach.” They who have must give. No man is at liberty, according to the laws of the kingdom of Jesus Christ, to turn his power to merely personal or selfish uses. His power must be expended for the world’s advantage, otherwise Jesus Christ will disclaim his professions of discipleship. The measure of any man’s power is the measure of his obligation to educate society—the power may be intellectual, commercial, social; that is to say, the man may have great thinking powers of his own, or great pecuniary (financial) resources, or great influence arising from a lofty reputation; and Jesus Christ claims that “all nations” shall have the advantage of his ability. As he was, so his disciples are to be in the world according to their measure; for it is plainly declared that “if any man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his.” The spirit of Christ is educational, and therefore willingness to educate is the test of life in Christ. When Paul addressed the elders of the church of Ephesus, he said, “I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you,” plainly showing that he had deeply entered into the spirit of Jesus Christ. This idea of “keeping back” is most expressive. Ananias and Sapphira “kept back part of the price,” and we know their fate; Paul “kept back nothing,” and we know with what exultancy he looked forward to his “crown;” the goats kept back the bread and water, and they went away into everlasting punishment; the sheep kept nothing back, and they entered into eternal life.

The comprehensiveness of this educational charter is most suggestive. There is a grandeur of the conception; standing with 11 men, poor and unlettered men, upon a mountain in Galilee, Jesus Christ turns the world into a great school, and elects teachers who may constantly draw upon himself for instruction and inspiration. He refers to no difficulties, never provides for surrender or withdrawal, describes no boundaries; he speaks of the world as a unit, of all nations as scholars, and of his Gospel as the theme of every teacher. Before the magnificence of this conception even the miracles dwindle into insignificance. Then there is the implied adaptation of the Gospel to human nature universally. There are no modifications of the subject; the Gospel is one, just as the sun is one; and human nature is as essentially one as is the Divine nature. Then there is the determination of the destiny—he that believes shall be saved; he that believes not shall be damned. No statesman ever spoke of the affairs of state with so much ease, confidence, and comprehensiveness as Jesus Christ spoke of the world. He looked with the eye and spoke with the voice of the Universal Prince, yet the marks of recent wounds were on his hands and his feet, and no man was ever more unprincely in his visible resources. This must be accounted for by those who deny this Godhead; to those who believe in this Godhead the case presents no difficulty. They would rather accept the mystery of God becoming man than the impossibility of man becoming God.

So far the spirit of Jesus Christ after the resurrection is entirely accordant with all that we have seen in him up to the time of the crucifixion; what difference there may be is not one of nature, but of application; the benevolence is the same, though the commission now includes the whole world, as well as the lost sheep of the house of Israel. There remain two instances of Christ’s posthumous spirit yet to be looked at, in which the world can never cease to be interested. They relate to individuals, it is true, yet those individuals may be regarded as representative so long as doubters and backsliders are to be found in society. Happily, the disciples represented various temperaments, and various intellectual capacities. Had they been elected upon some special principle of inclusion, that circumstance would have excited suspicion; as it was, however, the most opposite characteristics were represented by the 11 disciples, so that the teaching of Jesus Christ had to commend itself to what was essential, and not to what was accidental, in human nature; this is the more remarkable when it is considered that nearly everything he said seemed to be entirely opposed to the main conditions of human nature generally, and of Jewish society particularly. The two instances referred to are singularly pathetic. The first was that of Didymus [Thomas]. He was absent when Jesus Christ appeared to the disciples on the evening after the resurrection, and when the appearance was reported to him he met the statement with the most resolute skepticism: “Except,” said he, “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.” To see his general appearance would not be enough; to hear his voice, which sufficed for Mary Magdalene, would not be enough: he must descend into particulars, and elect his own standards of judgment. How will Jesus Christ treat the doubter? A question of transcendent import! The doubter will come upon every age: on what principle shall he be encountered? After eight days Jesus Christ made a second appearance to his disciples, and the doubter was present. Jesus passed at once to the skeptical Didymus, and said, “Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side; and be not faithless but believing.” Instead of resenting the slight which had been cast upon the veracity of his disciples, instead of rebuking an occasional absence from the Christian fellowship, Jesus Christ actually submitted to the very tests which the doubter himself had elected! He was greater in that hour than when he wrought the chief of his miracles. He gave, however, a gentle hint that the time of personal, sensuous revelation was just closing, and that the spiritual era was about to open. He said, “Thomas, because thou has seen me, thou has believed.” It was an appropriate close of the physical dispensation, a powerful and convincing climax! Any other climax would have been a failure. A hand thrust into the wound finishes with the most tragic effect what Simeon so well began when he took the child in his arms, and sighed for rest. Thomas Didymus was the first doubter that entered into peace through the wounded Christ, and today there is no other plan by which the soul can steady itself but by resting on the same wounds, though in a higher and nobler sense. Not only was this an appropriate conclusion of the physical testimony, but a most gracious introduction to the spiritual age: “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” It was the old word. We heard it first on the Mount of Beatitudes, we hear it last on the way to Olivet, the Mount of Ascension; it was “blessed” at the beginning, it was “blessed” at the close; the changeful (inconsistent) anthem, varying from the whisper of a breeze to the noise of a storm, began and ended on the same note. The last man who believed by sight was not so blessed as the first man who believed on testimony. Each age has been offered a larger blessing than that which was offered to its predecessor.

The second instance is still more deeply interesting than the first. All the disciples forsook Jesus Christ and fled about the time of the crucifixion. The case of Peter was one of special aggravation. He denied his discipleship with an oath. The first to accept Christ’s call, he was the most resolute in disclaiming his Master. Can a crime like this be forgiven? Is there compass enough in Christ’s love to get round a treason so black, an apostasy so complete? When the sovereign and the traitor meet, what will happen? They did meet. Early in the morning Jesus Christ appeared on the shore of Tiberias, and accosted seven or eight of his disciples, who had been fishing all night without success. With the keen instinct of love, John was the first to identify the Master. Turning to Peter, he said, “It is the Lord.” That was enough for the man who carried an intolerable burden on his heart; when he heard it was the Lord, “he girt his fisher’s coat unto him (for he was naked), and did cast himself into the sea.” We know not what happened in the private interview which succeeded, the interview between the great sinner and the greater Savior. It is better that we do not know; better that the heart should have its own sweet and secret memories of intercourse with Jesus Christ—something that should be quite the heart’s own treasure. Perhaps no words passed; perhaps only a look; perhaps only a gasp of the wounded hand! We know the effect of one look; it broke Simon Peter’s heart: perhaps the look of eyes which had slept in death healed it again. We cannot tell; we wish to know, yet we would not inquire, lest we profane the sanctuary of the soul. Part of the story is told. The risen Savior dined with the disciples. After dinner Jesus saith to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these?” He was once boisterous in his demonstrativeness—ready for prison, prepared for death—yet he was convicted of falsehood and profanity! How would he answer now? “He saith unto him, Yea, Lord; thou know that I love thee.” Again the question, and again the answer; and yet once more; the three denials were lost in the three confessions, and the thrice-plighted backslider was thrice charged to feed the flock—to feed the lambs, and to feed the sheep; no partial ministry; no sign of humiliation attached to the service; the forgiveness was complete, the restoration was vital. In the beginning of his ministry Jesus Christ had said to Simon Peter, “Follow me,” the old words precisely were repeated on this occasion. Jesus foretold the circumstances of Peter’s death, and then said, “Follow me.” the broken link was taken out, and this new one put in its place. We know what a strong man Peter became after his restoration—how he excelled all the New Testament writers in richness of pathos, and how he rivaled even Paul in catholicity and labor. The heart is enriched by sorrows. Restored men, so often looked upon with suspicion, ought to be the wisest of Christian teachers: wise to guide the sheep, and strong to carry the lambs.

In this charge to Simon Peter, Jesus Christ gives no instruction as to theology or morals. Nothing approaching the nature of a formal creed is hinted at. Yet this would have been the time above all other times, had such a creed been necessary, to enter into details; specifically so with Simon Peter, who had fallen into shame. On what, then, was the great mission founded? Simply on love. Where there is intense love of Jesus Christ, there is capacity to feed the flock; where this love is wanting, all other capacity is useless. Love is the security of the Christian life, and of the Christian apostleship. Love is the guarantee of morality, for love is the fulfilling of the law. God so loved that he gave; man, too, must so love as to give. He is not to be drawn upon chains of iron; he is to be impelled by love. Consider what love is, and see its sufficiency and power. Love is the term which expresses the purest and intensest enthusiasm of the soul. When that purest and intensest enthuses is directed towards Jesus Christ, love attains its noblest development. The whole man is aglow with an ardor which nothing that is unholy can touch and live! The man’s vitality is at its highest point; every sensibility is as keen as it can be; every faculty is under pledge to suffering or service. This was all that Jesus Christ required even of the man who had fallen so foully, and shown himself to helpless under pressure. Before the crucifixion he had trusted in himself: the very last element of self-conceit was to be destroyed in him, and henceforth he was to live under the inspiration and guardianship of perfect love. There is no faculty of interpretation equal to love; it has access, so to speak, to every chamber of God’s heart, and can speak all languages; nor is there any capacity of suffering equal to it; it accepts suffering as a trial of reality and strength, and wrings great spoil from its unwilling grasp. This we had known before; but Jesus Christ employs a word which calls us to consideration; on being assured of Simon Peter’s love, he tells him to feed the flock: how can love feed? We know how love can stimulate, defend, or soothe; but this new word startles us somewhat. Yet it need not. Love delights in the satisfaction of others. It does not care in any low sense to feed itself; it thrives best when it gives most and does most for the lambs and the sheep: but which lambs and sheep? Is the fold defined? Yes: Feed my lambs—feed my sheep—was the command of Jesus Christ: the love was Christ’s, the service was Christ’s; nor does Simon Peter appear to have forgotten the charge, or the metaphor by which it was expressed; for long after he wrote, “Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking the oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly; not for filthy lucre, but of a ready mind; . . . and when the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fades not away.” Love must, by the force of its own nature, feed others—study them, comprehend their capacity; and satisfy them when they feel 

“The curse of high spirit famishing,
Because all earth but sickens it.”

Jesus Christ dealt thus with the doubter and the apostate, gently, instructively, and forgivingly. Not a harsh word was said to either of them: let the church recollect this and consider how far the servant has followed the Master’s example. There may be some standing without who should be called within.

Jesus Christ made a remarkable posthumous appearance to two of his disciples, as they walked to Emmaus. They may be regarded as representing men who have taken an incomplete view of the facts which relate to Christ. If their collation of evidence had been fuller, they would have had less trouble. They saw but a “fragment” of the case; “and as they communed one with another, they were sad.” (Luke xxiv. 17) The interview between Jesus Christ and them was remarkable chiefly for the full exposition of the case which Christ gave from what may be termed the documentary side: “Beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.” This puts the Old Testament in its right position. It is a Christian document. From the beginning of revelation to its close; Christ is the main subject: without him there was nothing to be revealed.

At the close of it all, he breathed upon his disciples the Holy Ghost. This, however, was but preparatory to the full gift which was shortly afterwards received. They were to tarry in the city of Jerusalem until they were endued with power from on high. Thus the epochs merged into one another. John pointed to Jesus, Jesus promised to send the Comforter, and so, after long ages, we have come to the rule of the Spirit. He works deeply, though silently. His “going” is not heard in the thunder, or earthquake, or whirlwind. He comes as quietly as the morning, and while unobserving men are exclaiming, “Where is the promise of his coming?” he is actually filling the heavens with light, and renewing the face of the earth. Of him it may be said, as was said of Jesus Christ, “There stands one among you, whom ye know not; he it is.”

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