By J.R. Miller
In a private letter from a professing Christian, is this eager longing: "For the last month or more I have been drifting away from God, and have not been able to drop anchor. The more I read and study the life of Jesus, the farther I seem to drift. I find myself asking the question continually, 'Are all these things true? They certainly are beautiful to read about--but are they true?'"
We say that God does not manifest himself to us; yet he does reveal himself far more actually than we think. There is a picture of Augustine and his mother which represents them looking up to heaven with deep longing and great eagerness, as if listening for something. One is says, "If God would only speak to us!" and the other replies, "Perhaps he is speaking to us now, and we do not hear him!"
Philip said, "Lord, show us the Father," and Jesus replied, "Have I been so long time with you, and do you not know me, Philip? He who has seen me has seen the Father." Philip thought he had never seen the Father, and Jesus told him he had been seeing the Father for three years. What Philip had in mind was some revealing of visible glory, some outshining of majesty and splendor, a transfiguration--that was the way he thought God must appear. When Jesus said, "He who has seen me has seen the Father," he referred to his daily life with his disciples. The very purpose of the Incarnation was to show God to men, in a common, everyday human life which they could understand. Jesus was showing God to men when he was patient with their dullness, gentle with their faults, longsuffering and merciful with their sins, compassionate toward their sorrows. We see God continually in the same familiar ways. A writer says that most men are religious when they look upon the faces of their dead babies. The materialism which at other times infects them with doubts of immortality, drops away from them in this holy hour.
People say, "If we could see miracles we would believe." But it was not miracles to which Jesus referred in his own life, when he said that he had been revealing the Father all the time he had been with the disciples. He referred to the kindnesses he had shown, and the gentle things he had continually done in his associations with the people in the common life of his everyday.
Have you really never seen God? If you think of God as only burning majesty, shining glory, you will say, "No, I never saw God." But the splendor of Sinai clouds and flaming fire, is not God--God is love. You have seen God a thousand times in love, in peace, in goodness. You have seen him in daily providential care, in the sweet things of your home, in sacred friendships, and in countless revealings of goodness. Think how you have been blessed all your life in many ways. Do not call it chance, or luck--there is no such thing.
A heart-hungry girl asked, "Why has no one ever seen God?" Yet she herself had seen God every day, every hour of her life, in the goodness and mercy which had followed her from her infancy. Say not any more, "I have never seen God." You were in danger, and a mysterious protection preserved you from harm. You had a great sorrow which you thought you could not possibly endure, and there came a sweet comfort which filled your heart with peace. There was a strange tangle of affairs which seemed about to wreck everything in your life and it was all straightened out as by invisible hands, in a way you never dreamed of. You had a crushing loss, which seemed about to overwhelm you, and lo! The loss proved a gain. You were wrongly treated by a pretended friend, and the stars all seemed to have gone out of your sky. Today you are quietly praising God for it all, for it delivered you from what would have been a great misfortune, and gave you instead a true friendship, and a rich happiness which fills all your life. You had a painful sickness which shut you away in the darkness for weeks, and you thought it a grievous experience. Today you thank God for it, for you learned new lessons in the darkness. All your years have been full of remarkable deliverances, strange guidance, gentle comforts, answered prayers, sweet friendships, divine love and care. Yet you say you have never seen God, and you ask, "How may I know that the beautiful things which the New Testament tells me about Christ are true?"
How may we learn the reality of spiritual things? Only by experience. In one of the Psalms it is said: "those who know your name, will put their trust in you." And "name" in the Bible means personality, the person himself. Human friendships are formed in experience. We meet one we have never seen before. Little by little we learn to know him, finding in him qualities that please us, and coming at length to love and trust him as a friend. In the same way only can we learn to know and love God. We read of his goodness, his justice, his truth, his loving-kindness, his faithfulness. But we must come into personal relations with him, before we can know that these qualities are in him. We can learn to know him only in experience.
The story of Lady Aberdeen's conversion to Christ is very suggestive. She was long in doubt--wavering, indecisive, not knowing what to do. In her perplexity she sat one day under a tree in her garden, in deep thought. She had been asking the question, "How can I know that these things are true? Is Christ real?" She could not be sure. "Act as if I were true," said a mystic voice, "and you will find that I am." Nothing could have been more reasonable. She did not stop to ask whether the voice she heard was divine, or only an impression. To her it was the voice of Christ, and he was bidding her to try him. "You do not know whether I am or not. Act as if I were. I offer you life, rest, joy, peace; you do not know whether there are such blessings or not. Act as if there were. Test me. Test my words." She did so, and she was not disappointed.
How do we know that any of these invisible things are true? How do we know that there is any God? We need not seek proofs that there is a God; the Bible offers none. When Philip asked, "Lord, show us the Father," Jesus replied, "He who has seen me, has seen the Father." In Jesus Christ, therefore we see God. Look at Christ and you will see God.
Let no one think that God wants to hide himself, wants to be only dimly, obscurely seen. He wants his friendship with us to be real and close. He does not want us to walk in darkness, to grope in gloom. He does not want to be unreal to us. He wants us to know him as we know no other friend. He wants prayer to be as real to us as talk with any human friend. Yet we say, "These things are very beautiful--but are they true?" Yes, they are the realest things in the world. How shall we then make them real to our experience? Christ is real--he is our Savior, our Master, and our Friend. Someone asked, "How can I learn to love Christ more?" "Trust him more," was the answer. "How can I trust him more?" "Love him more." Loving and trusting go together. The more you love him the more you will trust him, and the more will you find in him to love. The best, the truest, the most faithful human friend will disappoint you some time, in something; but Christ, never.
