REVELATIONS OF CHURCH LIFE
CRITICAL AND EXEGETICAL NOTES
Revelation 2:1. Angel.—If this be taken as the chief pastor of the Church, it is quite? possible that Timothy is the person addressed. Holdeth.—As a figure for exercising dominion over, having power over. Walketh.—Is present among Christian societies and exercises particular inspection over them. Ephesus is first addressed, as the chief city of the district.
Revelation 2:2. I know.—Often used to denote approbation or complacency. Works.—Perhaps “all developments of character,” but better treated as a general term, which is explained as embracing “labour” (strain) and “patience.” The word “labour” here means “labour carried on unto weariness.” “Patience” here expresses the brave and persistent endurance of the Christian. Canst not bear.—Or cannot do with; cannot put up with. Evil.—κακούς Evil ones. Perhaps the morally evil were specially in mind. Found them liars.—For St. Paul’s warning of false teachers, see Acts 20:28-31. Tried is a strong word. Thoroughly tested their pretensions. Apostles.—Involving claim to direct Divine authority. They were probably Judaisers, either of the antinomian or the Gnostic type. The word translated “liars” is ψευδεῖς—false. They who made false claims would be sure to teach false things. They could be tested
(1) by comparing their teachings with those of St. Paul;
(2) by recalling the characteristic features of heretical doctrine, as described by him; and
(3) by the moral and spiritual influence which their teachings were found to exert.
Revelation 2:3. Not fainted.—Or, not been wearied out, though the strain has been long continued. See the word translated “labour” in Revelation 2:2. “They had toiled on to very weariness, without wearying of their toil.”
Revelation 2:4. Left.—Let go. “I have it against thee that thou givest up the love thou hadst at the beginning.” The first love may be
(1) their first fervour of love to Christ; or
(2) their former spirit of benevolence and kindness toward all men. Stuart inclines to the second explanation. Plumptre says: “Whether the ‘first love’ is that which has God, or Christ, or man, for its object, I am not careful to enquire, for the true temper of love or charity includes all three.”
Revelation 2:5. Fallen.—The height of Christian attainment gained has to be maintained. To be satisfied with a lower level is to fall. Do the first works.—This is possible at once. To restore the feeling may not be possible at once; but resuming the works puts us in the way of the restoration of the feeling. Or else.—Lit. “but if not.” Will come.—Am coming. Remove thy candlestick.—A providential and spiritual visitation of Christ is meant. “The judgment threatened was determined by the symbolism of the vision. The lamp was not burning brightly. If it were rekindled and trimmed and fed with oil, well. If not, there would come on it the sentence which falls on all unfaithfulness, and the lamp should be removed. The Church which had not let its light shine before men would lose even its outward form and polity, and be as though it had never been” (Plumptre). A few huts only remain on the site of ancient Ephesus.
Revelation 2:6. Nicolaitanes.—A branch of the Gnostics who held it to be lawful to eat meats offered to idols, and who practised fornication. They traced their origin to Nicolas, one of the seven deacons, but there is no clue to the assumed connection between them. They were the antinomians of the Asiatic Church. Some think the word is but a Greek form of the name Balaam, or as symbolical of Balaam, and so Nicolaitanes was equivalent to Balaamites.
Revelation 2:7 The Spirit.—τὸ πνεῦμα. Yet the Living Christ is the speaker throughout. “The mode of transmission to the Churches is, however, by the Spirit, in His dispensation, ‘giving utterance’ to John.” Remember, however, that to Christ’s human nature the Spirit was imparted without measure. Tree of life.—Figurative description of eternal life (see Genesis 2:9). “The promise of the tree of life is appropriate
(1) to the virtue commended: those who had not indulged in the license of the Nicolaitanes shall eat of the tree of life;
(2) to the special weakness of the Ephesians: to those who had fallen and lost the paradise of first loving communion and fellowship with God is held out the promise of a restored paradise, and participation in the tree of life” (Bishop Boyd Carpenter).
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Revelation 2:1-7
A Church Weak in the Springs of Life.—We are treating the book of Revelation as a spiritual rather than as a historical book. Not anxious to fit it to any history, or to find events that seem to match its symbols, but purposing to find what suggestive spiritual and practical applications can be made of the symbols. In this and the following chapter is the picture of the Living Christ, the searching White Christ, moving among His Churches, carefully inspecting them. And what He notices, and remarks on, in these seven representative cases, may help us to discover what, in the Churches of to-day, must be grieving Him who would have them white as He is white.
I. The Living Christ accepts the fact that His Church on earth is a fighting Church. (Compare St. Paul’s address to the elders of Ephesus, Acts 20:28-30.) That the enemies of the Church are mainly within itself is seen in all these seven cases. The chief wrong is always some wrong in themselves. Outside evils and temptations are easily over-mastered when the internal spiritual health and vitality are well maintained. The Living Christ is not content with surface impressions; He goes to the very root of the evil. He sees—
1. Inconsistency—the failure to harmonise spirit and conduct.
2. Inefficiency—the failure to rise to a high standard of Christian life, or to meet the higher spiritual obligations.
3. Influence of false teachers, regarded rather as the source of moral than of merely intellectual mischief. The conflict of Christ’s Church must partly be with circumstances and with persecutors; but the real importance of their influence lies in the strain put on Christian motive, and the injury done to Christian character. Christ does not expect present perfection in His Church. He does expect “overcoming,” which is the pursuit, step by step, of perfection—steady progress, by advancing triumphs, towards perfection. Christian life should be a series of victories, small and great.
II. The Living Christ may notice a wavering, changeable spirit in a Church.—This is the point of importance in the inspection of this Church. The Searching Lord found out that they were not actually what they had been. Surface appearances were, indeed, the same, but they had “left their first love.” The history of this Church may be reviewed. First, certain disciples of John the Baptist had taught a reformed Judaism. Then came the eloquent preaching of Apollos. Then the instructive work of Aquila and Priscilla, and then the three years’ ministry of St. Paul. The Church was greatly attached to the apostle, but in the epistle to Timothy there have been found signs of what seems to be a change of feeling toward him. And this may suggest one meaning of the expression, “thou hast left thy first love.” There was much that deserved commendation in the Church at Ephesus. It must be borne in mind that it was a very difficult city to live a Christian life in. It was Eastern; Diana’s great Temple was there; it was noted for its superstitions and magical arts. The Living Christ was able freely to praise their
(1) works,
(2) patience,
(3) zeal,
(4) good motive. But if the tone of Christ’s praise is carefully estimated, it will be seen that He observed an intensity in these things, which itself indicated a sense of flagging soul life. Over-activity is a bad sign. Though surface things seemed right, there was weakness in the springs of life. There were signs of a serious change in them. Changed feeling towards St. Paul showed a changed state of soul; they were not keeping soul-steadfast. How did this changeableness, fickleness, come about?
1. Partly it was due to natural disposition. Fickle people need to watch themselves, and their varying moods, with unusual care. Impulsive people seldom have also staying power, and they soon flag.
2. Partly it resulted from the influence of circumstances. The strain of continuance is always trying, and the subtlety of false teachers undermines Christian vitality.
3. The neglect of private soul-culture leaves the inner life to flag. Such neglect often follows from undue absorption in worldly things. Application may be made to the sin and peril of the changeableness that is so sadly characteristic of Christian Churches nowadays. The signs of it are
(1) craving for excitement;
(2) wanting to be made to feel;
(3) distaste of quiet spiritual influences. When a man has lost his soul’s love and life, he tries to make up for the loss by ceremonies, or singing, or revivals. Men should ask themselves this question: How is it we want to be revived? Why are we not keeping up our high standard of Christian life?
III. The Living Christ encourages wrestling with this weakness by promising permanency to them who overcome.—“Eating the tree of life.” See the tree in the Garden of Eden; and the tree figured later on, in this book of Revelation, which bore twelve manner of fruits, and these every month, so that it was permanently refreshing, sustaining a continuous high life and vigour. “Overcoming” includes
(1) recognising the evil, as evil;
(2) returning upon a better spirit—humility—new purposes—dependence;
(3) watching against new failures. In all such recovery the Living Christ helps, fixing the new and better way into a permanency of goodness.
SUGGESTIVE NOTES AND SERMON SKETCHES
Revelation 2:1. The Seven Stars and the Seven Candlesticks.—This vision is the natural introduction to all that follows, and, indeed, defines the main purpose of the whole book, inasmuch as it shows us Christ, sustaining, directing, dwelling in, His Churches. The words of the text are meant to set forth the Churches and their servants, the Churches and their work, the Churches and their Lord.
I. We have in the symbol important truths concerning the Churches and their servants.—“The seven stars are the angels of the seven Churches.” The word “angel” means messenger, and it is applied to priests, and, in one passage, to an officer of the synagogue. It does not mean here a supernatural being, but the minister, or spiritual pastor, of the Church. 1. The messengers are rulers. They are described in a double manner—by a name which expresses subordination, and by a figure which expresses authority. And this perfectly embodies the very essential characteristic of all office and power in Christ’s Church. Dignity and authority mean liberty for more, and more self-forgetting, work. Power binds its possessor to toil. But to be servant of all does not mean to do the bidding of all. The service which imitates Christ is helpfulness, not subjection. Neither the Church is to lord it over the messenger, nor the messenger over the Church. 2. The messengers and the Churches have at bottom the same work to do. Stars shine; so do lamps. Light comes from both—in different fashion, indeed, and of a different quality; but still, both are lights. These are in the Saviour’s hands, those are by his side; but each is meant to stream out rays of brightness over a dark night. So, essentially, all Christian men have the same work to do. The ways of doing it differ, but the thing done is one. We have all one office and function, to be discharged by each in his own fashion—viz., to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ Jesus.
3. The Churches and their messengers are alike in their religious condition and character. The messenger, or minister, represents the Churches completely. The religious condition of a Church, and that of its leaders, teachers, pastors, ever tend to be the same, as that of the level of water in two connected vessels. There is such a constant interaction and reciprocal influence, that uniformity results.
II. The Churches and their work.—
1. The Church is to be light. Light is spontaneous, suggesting the involuntary influence of character. Light is silent and gentle, though so mighty. Light is self-invisible; revealing all things, it reveals not itself. The source you can see, but not the beams. So we are to shine—not showing ourselves, but our Master.
2. The Church’s light is derived light. Two things are needed for the burning of a lamp: that it should be lit, and that it should be fed. In both respects, the light with which we shine is derived. Reflected, not self-originated, is all our radiance. A derived and transient light is all that any man can be. The condition of all our brightness is that Christ shall give us light. And the soul kindled by Christ must constantly be supplied with the grace and gift of His Divine spirit.
3. The Church’s light is blended, or clustered, light. Each of these little communities is represented by one lamp. And that one light is composed of the united brightness of all the individuals who constitute the community. They are to have a character, an influence, a work, as a society, not merely as individuals. A Church is not to be merely a multitude of separate points of brilliancy, but the separate points are to coalesce into one great orbed brightness.
III. The Churches and their Lord.—His strengthening and watchful presence moves among the Churches, and is active on their behalf. That presence is a plain literal fact, however feebly we lay hold of it. He is with us, to hold up and to bless; to observe, to judge, and, if need be to punish. And He is the same loving and forbearing Lord whom the apostle had learned to trust on earth, and found again revealed from heaven.—A. Maclaren, D.D.
Christ’s Presence in His Church.—There is a subject of unusual interest suggested by the attitude in which the Living and Infinitely White Christ is represented as standing, and the relations which He is represented as actually bearing to the “stars” and the “candlesticks,” which are the symbols of the Church, and its ministry. “The seven stars are the angels of the seven Churches; and the seven candlesticks are seven Churches.” That subject is, the actual presence, and practical working, of Christ, in His Church of every age, and in His Church of to-day. To put it in another form: Does the Living Christ still reserve to Himself, even into this nineteenth century, His executive and administrative, as well as His legislative, rights? Those rights He certainly did exercise in the first Churches of the redeemed, for the Church at Ephesus is called to recognise Him in this way—“These things saith He that holdeth the seven stars in His right hand, He that walketh in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks.”
I. The actual presence of the Living Christ with His Church is the Church’s most precious truth.—It always, and everywhere, has been recognised as such. So far as theory is concerned, the living headship of Christ has always been the Church’s theory. What we have to complain of is, not that the truth has ever been really lost, but that it has so often been buried, and therefore practically lost. The constant work of the Christian ages has been recovering lost truths, and getting neglected truths estimated at their right value. If the truth of the actual presence of Christ in His Church to-day were a new truth, it could not be true. It is only a half-buried old truth; one that has been covered over with the dust of men’s formulæ; one that claimed the first place, but was soon pushed back into a second, when ecclesiastics grasped the duties and rights of Him who is “above for evermore”; and then into a third, when men made so much more of getting into the kingdom than of the conduct becoming to those in the kingdom. I want to show you that Christ’s permanent abiding in His Church was the true Messianic expectation; it was our Lord’s own anticipation, and it was the realisation, and the teaching, of His apostles. We may possibly come to see that the indwelling and presiding “Holy Ghost” of the Church of the redeemed is simply the form under which this presence, and consequent presidency, of the Living Christ is now to be recognised by us. Christ, spiritually present, and spiritually working, is the Holy Ghost. There are three possible thoughts that we may cherish concerning the continuance of Christ’s life beyond His human death on the cross. We may think of Him as simply alive again, as men, we assume, will be alive again after the great resurrection-morn. Or we may think of Him as altogether removed from earthly scenes, dwelling away in the heavenlies, and there wholly engaged in what may be found necessary for the completion of His redemptive work. Probably most Christian people cherish this thought of the Risen Christ, to the exclusion of all others. To them He is the great High Priest; the Advocate with the Father; the Angel of the Covenant. He is there, and only there, in the “Temple not made with hands.” But there is another thought of Him, which it would be a new inspiration to us to cherish. He is back again amid mortal scenes. He is as really, nay, more really, here with us now, than when He seemed to live in our homes, eat our food, and speak our words. He went away in order that He might come and abide. He went away from our senses that He might come to our souls. The Church is His Temple; in it He dwells and rules. All is spiritual, the Church, the Temple, the rule; but then, the spiritual is the real, the material is only the picture and the seeming. It is this truth concerning Christ that heroic souls have kept alive through the long Christian ages of struggle and of error. It is this truth which is now every day getting into clearer light. It is this truth which is destined to revolutionise Christianity—not the Christianity of Christ, that only needs restoration, but the Christianity that men have made for themselves out of the revelation that has been given to them. The key-note of the Christianity of the future will be, Christ come; Christ here; Christ spiritually present; Christ saving now; Christ sanctifying now; Christ ruling now. Really, to-day “holding the stars, and walking among the candlesticks.”
1. It is the truth foreshadowed in Messianic picture-teachings. Men would make less of particular Messianic psalms, and Messianic prophecies, if they more clearly saw that the Mosaic dispensation was, in its very essence, Messianic. It is but the expression, fitted for the times, of the primary idea of the “theocracy”; and the “theocracy” was but the preparatory picture-teaching of Christ’s spiritual rule over His Church and in His Church. By the term “theocracy” is meant, God’s immediate and direct rule. Without delegation, or mediation, or intervention, He, actually present with them, controlled, instructed, guided, rewarded, punished, the Jewish nation. That material rule fitted to the times, but it prepared the way for a spiritual realisation of the spiritual truth that it embodied. Christ is God, spiritually present in His spiritual Church, spiritually ruling, and ordering, and sanctifying.
2. And this is the relation He would sustain which was anticipated by Christ. We cannot be surprised to find it held in reserve by our Lord during the earlier part of His ministry. It would have been of no use whatever to speak of a spiritual presence to His disciples while they were so full of worldly ideas and expectations. He had to wait until some beginnings of spiritual apprehension were made by at least some of them. And yet there are many indications that it was always in His thoughts, and hints of it were given when plain words could not be spoken. When He referred to His coming rejection and death, He usually closed His remarks with an allusion to His resurrection, as if He would set the disciples thinking what He would be to them in that risen life. When He came to them in the grey and misty morning, walking upon the sea, He evidently intended to help them towards realising His presence with them in other than sense conditions. That was a stage in His education of them to the apprehension of the unseen. When He had only the chosen band around Him in the upper room, He could speak more freely than He had ever been able to speak before. He felt the closing of the earthly, sensuous relations. He knew what a strain it would be to those disciples. And therefore He bent all His effort to the work of cheering them by the repeated assurance that it would be no real loss to them; it would, indeed, be the most real gain. They might at first think that it was another one who would come to be in them, and to abide with them for ever; but presently it would seem clear to them that Him they called the “Holy Spirit” was, in deepest reality, Jesus Himself with them in a spiritual way, fulfilling His own gracious word, “I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you; the world seeth Me no more, but ye see Me.” And then that strange coming into vision, and passing out of vision, of the Resurrection day, was His most gracious way of loosening their hold on His bodily presence, and clearing their apprehension of His spiritual presence. And when they saw Him go up from earth, and the cloud hid Him from their sense-view for ever, His last words were in their souls, and they were left to think out, and feel out, their wondrous meanings: “Lo, I am with you all the days.”
3. And this truth of Christ’s present spiritual abiding in His Church was distinctly the realisation, and the teaching, of His apostles. St. Peter stood by the bedside of sick Æneas, and spoke as if Jesus was actually there; he could see Him, and Æneas might if he would look aright. “Æneas, Jesus Christ, maketh thee whole.” It is firmly asserted that, on certain occasions, “the power of the Lord was present to heal.” In the great crises of St. Paul’s life, Christ’s presence with him and ruling of his course, was revealed to him in personal visions. In such a chapter as the third in the epistle to the Colossians, every act and effort of the Christian life is directly referred to Christ’s present inspection: everything is to be done “as unto the Lord.” And the one purpose of the book of Revelation is to associate the Living, Spiritual Christ, in a very direct way, with all the growth, the sins, the frailties, the conflicts, the sorrows, the varied experiences, of His Church. The key-note of the book is struck in the first chapter. The Christ presented in such suggestive symbols is not the Christ of the heavenly places—how the book is misconceived when that idea is unduly pressed!—it is the Christ of the Churches—the presiding Spirit of the Churches; it is the infinitely White One with the sword, who “holds the stars in His right hand, and walks among the candlesticks”; who presided over every movement of the Churches of that day, Ephesus, and Smyrna, and the rest; who presides over every movement of His universal Church in all the ages.
II. The Living Christ, spiritually present, stands in a twofold relation to His Church.—The one relation is universally admitted; the other is generally obscured, misrepresented, neglected, and imperilled: and to some is entrusted the work of recovering, and setting forth afresh in view of men, the imperilled relations. Every human government has two functions, legislative and administrative. It makes laws, and it provides the machinery for carrying out its laws, actually presiding over their administration. A curious relic of the idea that the Sovereign actually executes her own laws is found in the ceremony of opening the Assizes in our county towns. The judges are met, on entering the town, with a state ceremony, as if they were actually the Queen. The Assize is opened on the assumption that it is the Queen herself who is going to try, and condemn or acquit, the prisoners. The fiction of her presence is constantly maintained, and her executive, as well as her legislative, rights are preserved. The right of the Lord Jesus to make laws for His Church is never disputed. The Pope of Rome is but the Vicar of Christ, and he is as zealous as we can be of the legislative claims of his supreme and sovereign Lord. But the assumption is that He only makes the laws, and makes them away up in heaven, and commits the carrying out of His laws to some delegates here on earth. It is supposed that He committed the carrying out of His laws first to St. Peter, through him to the Pope, through the Pope to the bishops, and through the bishops to the priests. And so we have on earth now, not Christ, but a Church, which is supposed to represent Him, and carry His authority. Or we may say that, while the legislative rights of Jesus are duly honoured, He is thought of as having surrendered His executive and administrative rights. He keeps Himself now altogether in the heavenly spheres—He is not here; and His Church, or rather a certain order of priests in His Church, consider they have the right to take His place and do His work. Now you can clearly see the principle for which contest has been variously made through all the Christian ages—the principle for which again, in our day, a holy fight must be waged. As to particular methods of organising Churches, special arrangements of ministry, or systems of government, we have nothing whatever to say. Let every man find out what is best for him, and let every man give me full liberty to find out what is best for me. “Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind.” Only we take our stand here; we draw the line here. No plan, no system, must touch the real, present, practical administrative rights of the Lord Jesus. No scheme must even seem to shut Christ up in heaven, and keep Him seated on His throne. No effort must be made to teach that Christ has put his royal rights into commission, so that we can now have no direct dealings with Him, but must deal with priest, or bishop, or earthly sovereign, or Roman Pope, who claim to speak in His name. It is not some fact of a bygone age that He once held the stars in His right hand, and once walked among the candlesticks. It is the fact of the hour; it is the truth of to-day. He is the executor of His own laws. He does now actually Himself hold the stars in His right hand, and walk among the candlesticks. The history of Christianity is really the story of man’s varied efforts to establish a mediatorship between Christ and men. There must be none. There can be none. Christ is mediator between man and God. But Christ’s relation to man is direct. There must be no attempt to push in any mediation between Christ and the soul. The history of Christianity is the heroic story of the struggles of men who fought for, and died for, the administrative rights of Christ. Their conflict took a variety of forms, but the essence of it always was the resistance of all human mediatorship between Christ and His Church.
Revelation 2:4. Losing First Love.—The first love had gone out of their religion; there was a tendency to fall into a mechanical faith, strong against heresy, but tolerant of conventionalism. Their temptations did not arise from the prevalence of error, or the bitterness of persecution, but from a disposition to fall backward, and again do the dead works of the past. There was not so much need to take heed unto their doctrine, but there was great need that they should take heed unto themselves (1 Timothy 4:16; compare Acts 20:28). When there is danger because earnestness in the holy cause is dying out, and the very decorum of religion has become a snare, what more fitting than to be reminded of Him whose hand can strengthen and uphold them, and who walks among the candlesticks to supply them with the oil of fresh love (Revelation 2:1)? The decay of love is the decay of that without which all other graces are as nothing (1 Corinthians 13:1-3), since “all religion is summed up in one word, Love. God asks this; we cannot give more, He cannot take less.” Great as the fault is, it is the fault which Love alone could have detected. Can any one more touchingly rebuke than by commencing, “Thou no longer lovest me enough”? There is at present, in the Ephesian Church, little outward sign of decay; they have resisted evil and false teachers; they have shown toil and endurance; but the great Searcher of hearts detects the almost imperceptible signs of an incipient decay. He alone can tell the moment when love of truth is passing into a noisy, Pharisaic zealotism; when men are “settling down into a lower state of spiritual life than that which they once aimed at and once knew.”—Bishop Boyd Carpenter.
The True Problem of Christian Experience.—There are many disciples of our time, who, like the Ephesian disciples, are to be warmly commended for their intended fidelity, and are yet greatly troubled and depressed by what appears to be a real loss of ground in their piety. They are compelled to sigh over a certain subsidence of that pure sensibility, and that high inspiration, in which their discipleship began. The clearness of that hour is blurred, the fresh joy interspaced with dryness.
I. The relation of the first love, or the beginning of the Christian discipleship, to the subsequent life.—What we call conversion is not a change distinctly traceable in the experience of all disciples, though it is, and must be, a realised fact in all. There are many that grew up out of their infancy, or childhood, in the grace of Christ, and remember no time when they began to love Him. Even such, however, will commonly remember a time when their love to God and Divine things became a fact so fresh, so newly conscious, as to raise a doubt whether it was not then for the first time kindled. In other cases there is no doubt of a beginning, a real, conscious, definitely remembered beginning, a new turning to God, a fresh-born Christian love. What is the import of such a state? what its relation to the subsequent life and character? It is a character begun, a Divine fact accomplished, in which the subject is started on a new career of regenerated liberty in good. But it is not a completed gift, which only needs to be held fast. It is one of God’s beginnings, which He will carry on to perfection. In one view, indeed, it is a kind of perfect state—a state resembling innocence. It is free, it is full of God, it is, for the time, without care. In this flowering state of beauty the soul discovers, and even has in its feeling, the sense of perfection, and is thus awakened from within to the great ideal, in which its bliss is to be consummated. The perfection conceived, too, and set up as a mark of attainment, is something more than a form of grace to be hereafter realised. It is now realised, as far as it can be. There is a certain analogy between this state, paradisaically beautiful, pure, and clean, and that external paradise in which our human history began. Still, the probability that any one will continue in the clearness and freshness of his first love to God, suffering no apparent loss, falling into no disturbance or state of self-accusing doubt, is not great. Where the love is really not lost, it will commonly need to be conquered again, over and over, and wrought into the soul by a protracted and resolute warfare. A mere glance at the new-born state of love discovers how incomplete and unreliable it is. An angel, as it were, in feeling, it is yet a child in self-understanding. The significance of the first love, as related to subsequent life, is twofold. In the first place, it is the birth of a new, supernatural, and Divine consciousness in the soul, in which it is raised to another plane, and begins to live as from a new point. And, secondly, it is so much of a reality, or fact realised, that it initiates, in the subject, experimentally, a conception of that rest, that fulness, and peace, and joyous purity, in which it will be the bliss and greatness of his eternity to be established. In both respects it is the beginning of the end; and yet, to carry the beginning over to the end, and give it there its due fulfilment, requires a large and varied trial of experience.
II. The relation of the subsequent life, including its apparent losses, to its beginning.—The real object of the subsequent life, as a struggle of experience, is to produce in wisdom what is there begotten as a feeling or a new love, and thus to make a fixed state of that which was initiated only as a love. It is to convert a heavenly impulse into a heavenly habit, to raise the Christian childhood into a Christian manhood. The paradise of first love is a germ, we may conceive, in the soul’s feeling, of the paradise to be fulfilled in its wisdom. At first the disciple knows very little of himself. At first nothing co-operates in settled harmony with his new life; but if he is faithful, he will learn how to make everything in him work with it, and assist the edifying of his soul in love. A great point is the learning how to maintain his new supernatural relation of sonship and vital access to God. And through the same course of experience, he conceives more and more perfectly what is the true idea of character. At first, character is to him a mere feeling or impulse—a frame. Next it becomes a life of work and self-denial. Next, a principle—nothing but a matter of principle. Next he conceives that it is something outwardly beautiful—a beautiful life. Character is at last conceived as a life whose action, choice, thought, and expression, are all animated and shaped by the spirit of holiness and Divine beauty which was first breathed into his feeling. A great point to be gained in the struggle of experience is to learn when one has a right to the state of confidence and rest. By a similar process he learns how to modulate and direct his will. His thinking power undergoes a similar discipline. At first he had a very perplexing war with his motives. The new love kindled by the Spirit has to maintain itself in company with great personal defects in the subject. And his temporary failures may occasion great distress. Still, the process of God is contrived to bring us round, at last, to the simple state which we embraced, in feeling, and help us to embrace it in wisdom. The beginning is the beginning of the end—the end, the child and fruit of the beginning. The fact, then, of a truly first love, the grand Christian fact of a spiritual conversion or regeneration, is no way obscured by the losing experiences that so often follow. On the contrary, its evidence is rather augmented by these irregularities and seeming defections. And, if it be more than nothing, then it is, of all mortal experiences, the chief; a change mysterious, tremendous, luminous, joyful, fearful—everything which a first contact of acquaintance with God can make it.—H. Bushnell, D.D.
Revelation 2:7. Overcoming.—Life on the earth for moral beings is not what we would have made it, if we had been entrusted with the making. Why should it cost such conflict for moral beings to win, and keep, goodness? For it does.
“The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the place where sorrow is unknown.”
That is a truth concerning our life on the earth which there is no gainsaying. Nothing, indeed, that is really worth having is easy to gain. That which costs nothing always proves to be nothing worth. St. Paul speaks of the battle of life, and shows us how to win it. St. John speaks of our “overcoming.” The fight is a continuous and prolonged one. We never end it, save with the ending of our earthly life. This fact, this truth, is freshly and vigorously impressed by the message of the Living Christ sent to the Churches of Asia. These seven messages tell what the Living Christ watches—us in the fight; us fighting. These seven messages tell what the Living Christ will do. Reward those who overcome.
I. All of us have something to wrestle with and overcome.—
1. Something preventing our success in life. Often we say that circumstances hinder us. Nay, the truth is this: we will not fight.
2. Something preventing our surrender to Christ. Something we persist in clinging to, something we will not wrestle with and master.
3. Something preventing our union with His Church. 4. Something preventing growth of character. It often is something in the self, in the natural or educated disposition, that makes our great fight; some weakness of character, some besetting sin, some unworthy habit. Or it may be something in our surroundings, our place of business, our companionships, our pleasures. It may be something of sin or temptation, as it meets us out in life. Whatever it may be, we are not to be overcome of evil, but to overcome evil with good.
II. There is only one way in which we may hope to overcome.—There are self-reliant ways that men try. They trust in vows, resolves, character, efforts. But life sternly deals with all merely self-efforts, and refuses to let man reap a moral victory in his own strength. There is really only one way. The fight must be waged under the leading of the great Captain of Salvation. By the sign of the cross we conquer, or, to use a Scripture figure, we “overcome by the blood of the Lamb.” David conquered Goliath because the wisdom and strength of God were upon his wisdom and strength. St. Paul could do all things “through Him who strengthened him.” We may be “more than conquerors through Him that loved us.” It is a spiritual fight, and for it we can have our Lord’s spiritual presence—and this presence as help for the small things of life.
III. Gracious rewards await those who overcome.—There is nothing for those who never knew what it was to fight. But the rewards of victors in the moral conflict can only be presented to us in figures. The messages to the Seven Churches indicate that the reward will be precisely adapted to each precise fight, and each precise victor. But, whatever else may be said, the smile and acceptance of Jesus is the one all-satisfying reward.
1. Ephesus—fading, or lost, life of love. Reward: the quickening and sustaining tree of life.
2. Smyrna—test of martyrdom (Polycarp). Reward: “Not hurt of second death.”
3. Pergamos—failing purity. Reward: gift of the White Stone.
4. Thyatira—outward heathen temptations. Reward: mastery over influence of evil.
5. Philadelphia—the steadfast. Reward: made a pillar, with Christ’s great Name inscribed upon it.
6. Laodicea—the self-satisfied. Reward: sit beside Christ, the King of the lowly. It should be our joy that we are in the Lord’s war, and under the Lord’s eye, and assured of the Lord’s acceptance. Then, every day, and everywhere, let us be fully determined that we will “overcome.”
The Symbol of Eating of the Tree of Life.—Prominent as this symbol had been in the primeval history, it had remained unnoticed in the teaching where we should most have looked for its presence—in that of the Psalmists and the Prophets of the Old Testament. Only in the Proverbs of Solomon had it been used, in a sense half allegorical and half mystical. (See Proverbs 3:18; Proverbs 11:30; Proverbs 13:12; Proverbs 15:4.) In connection with the revival of the symbol in the Apocalypse, it may be noted—
1. That it was the natural sequel of the fresh prominence that had recently been given to the thought of Paradise.
2. That the writings of Philo had specifically called attention to the tree of life as being the mystical type of the highest form of wisdom and holiness—the fear of God (θεοσεβεία) by which the soul attains to immortality. We trace, in other things at least, the indirect influence of Philo’s teaching on the thoughts and language of St. John, and as we must assume that all imagery is adapted, even in the words of the Divine Speaker, to the minds of those who hear, there seems no reason why we should not admit the working of that influence here. It may be asked, however, What is the meaning of the symbol, as thus used? How are we to translate it into the language of more abstract truth? And here, if I mistake not, the more developed form of the symbol, at the close of the Apocalypse, gives us the true answer: “The tree of life bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month, and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations” (Revelation 22:2). The leaves and the fruit obviously represent, the one the full and direct, the other the partial and indirect, workings of that eternal life which St. John thought of as manifested in the Incarnate Word. The “healing of the nations,” the elevation of their standard of purity and holiness, of duty and of love—this has been the work of that partial knowledge which the Church of Christ has been instrumental in diffusing. Its influence has counteracted the deadly working of the fruit of the other tree of “the knowledge of good and evil,” which we trace as due to a wisdom that is earthly, sensual, devilish. But to “eat of the tree of life” implies a more complete fruition, a higher communion and fellowship with the source of life. And here, therefore, I cannot but think that the promise of the Judge points to the truth that He is Himself, now, as ever, the “exceeding great reward” (Genesis 15:1) of those that serve Him faithfully; that the symbol veils the truth; that “this is life eternal, to know the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He has sent” (John 17:3).—Dean Plumptre.
Legends Concerning the Tree of Life.—In an old, rare book, called “Adam’s Repentance,” it is said that Seth, the third son of Adam, went to the gate of Paradise at the request of his dying father, and there received from the angel in charge three seeds of the tree of life, which he put in the mouth of Adam when he buried him. From these grew three saplings, from which were taken the wood for Moses’ rod, and that by which the waters of Marah, in the desert, were sweetened. The temple of David was also built of the wood of these trees, and the bench on which the heathen Sibyls sat when they prophesied the coming of Christ. Moses’ rod was planted in Canaan, and also became a tree, from which the cross of Christ, the new tree of life, was made, and the eternal life, lost in Adam, regained. This legend is fully portrayed in a picture on the altar of a Church in Leyden. It is, perhaps, founded on a simpler story told by Sozomen, the ecclesiastical historian, that at Hermopolis, in Egypt, stood the tree Persis, the fruit, leaves, and bark whereof possessed wonderful healing qualities. When the Virgin Mary, on her flight to Egypt with the infant Jesus, rested under this tree, it bowed its whole length in humble reverence to Jesus as the true Lord of life and health. The arbor vitœ, familiar to us, is sculptured on Egyptian tombs, as a symbol of belief in another existence beyond the grave. In the Middle Ages it was said that whosoever would eat of the wood of this tree of life would be preserved from weakness and decrepitude, and would be rendered invincible as Achilles. It was also said that to eat of its foliage would cause one to forget all hunger and care.
ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER 2
Revelation 2:1. Ruins of Ancient Ephesus.—Let us go with the traveller, as he journeys over the scenes of Asia Minor—of which Homer, Hesiod, Æschylus, and Euripides, sang, and of which Herodotus and Xenophon wrote—scenes of ancient myths, of high adventure, of sacred narrative,—scenes where Pagan mythology recorded its wonders, and where gospel doctrine claimed its triumphs; and let us rest for a moment with him as he surveys, in the ancient district of Lydia, on the borders of the Ægean Sea, a poor Turkish village, bearing the modern name of Aiasalûk. From the eminence upon which that hamlet stands, built of materials in which are constantly to be seen traces of a more dignified antiquity, the eye wanders over immense heaps of chaotic ruin in the valley below. These masses of ancient masonry are partly overgrown by the wild luxuriance of an almost tropical vegetation, and only the serpent, the lizard, and the scorpion, are at home on the spot. The elegant forms of Corinthian architecture, shafts of Ionic columns, and the less graceful remnants of later Roman days, may be traced amidst the inextricable confusion. A considerable river (the Cayster), the waters of which were originally clear as crystal, having broken loose from its bounds, wanders at will amidst the ruins, and converts the whole into a malarious swamp. Here and there a corn-field offers a contrast to the surrounding desolation, yet only serves to make that desolation more marked and emphatic. Among other remnants of the past are the ruins of an ancient theatre, whose circular seats, uprising one above another, may still be traced, whilst numerous arches remain witnesses of its former grandeur. But though the broken masonry is most extensive, not an apartment remains entire. No Christian dwells in its vicinity; there is no certainty as to the site of any one of the buildings which gave to the city its peculiar character. Confusion has done its utmost work. Such are the ruins of ancient Ephesus. Its position and prospects have undergone a total revolution; “the very sea has shrunk from its shores.” Everywhere are visible the traces of the spoilers’ hand. The columns which once adorned its temples, and which were the envy of the beholder, were removed by Justinian, to ornament the church of Sophia, in Constantinople. Barbarians pillaged all that emperors had spared; and as the traveller gazes upon the fallen fortunes of so much antecedent magnificence, he shudders at the too visible fulfilment of the threat, “I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent.” While all trace of the temple of Diana has been lost, Chandler relates that he found amongst the ruins of the city an inscription, commencing as follows: “Inasmuch as it is notorious that, not only among the Ephesians, but also everywhere among the Greek nations, temples are consecrated to her, and sacred portions,” etc., which strikingly illustrates the address of the town clerk of Ephesus: “Ye men of Ephesus, what man is there that knoweth not how that the city of the Ephesians is a worshipper of the great goddess Diana” (Acts 19:35)?
Revelation 2:7. Overcoming.—As on some battlefield, whence all traces of the agony and fury have passed away, and harvests wave, and larks sing where blood ran and men groaned their lives out, some grey stone, raised by the victors, remains, and only the trophy tells of the forgotten fight; so that monumental word, “I have overcome,” stands to all ages as the record of the silent, lifelong conflict.—A. Maclaren, D.D.
Tree of Life.—Comparing this verse with Christ’s declaration to the penitent thief, “To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise,” Parkhurst maintains that the tree of life is not an emblem of any agent through which Christ bestows blessings, but that it symbolises our Lord Himself. So, following out the idea, he points out that the cherubim, after Adam was expelled from the Edenic paradise, were set to guard the approaches to the tree of life: the time had not yet come for Christ to be manifested in the “glory of His work of redemption.” In Luke 23:31 we find that Christ alludes to Himself in His attitude of a sufferer as “the green tree”; that is to say, He was under the constant influence of the spirit of God, and brought forth the fruit of perfect holiness in His Divine manhood.