God's averted face.
The hiding of God's face is a sore trial to his people. If they did not love him, they could bear it; but as they love him so much, it is a great affliction. It may be said of such trials, that they are still harder to bear under the gospel. For the very fact that God once dwelt with men—going in and out among them as one of themselves, loving them, and doing them good—makes the mystery of his silence now the deeper, and our distress the greater. "Thou didst hide thy face, and I was troubled" (Psalms 30:7; cf. Job 13:24).
1. This conduct on the part of our Lord seems alien to his nature. We expect a friend to show himself friendly. We blame a physician if he comes not at once when urgently summoned. We would call a father or mother unfeeling and unnatural who shut their ears to the cries of their own child.
2. Then this silence of our Lord seems contrary to his action when he was in the world. He was then easy of access, and ready to help. True, he at first refused the Syro-phoenician; but he gave her all she asked in the end. True, he delayed coming to Bethany; but he did come, in his own time, and turned the house of mourning into a home of joy.
3. Then, again, we have our Lord's teaching and promises. We remember what is said, that we should "not hide ourselves from our own flesh" (Isaiah 58:7); how we are taught to show kindness to our enemies, and even to have pity on the very brutes (Deuteronomy 22:1 - 4; Matthew 12:12); and "how much is a man better than a sheep!" We think also of the parables of Lazarus, and of the man who fell among thieves, and our hearts are in perplexity. "I weep … because the comforter that should relieve my soul is far from me" (Lamentations 1:16). Besides, we remember our Lord's promises. It cannot be that he does not know; or that he lacks the power; or that his love is waxed cold. Why, then, does he let us lie at his gate; or leave us half-dead by the wayside; or fail to come to us when we are "comfortless"? These and such-like thoughts rise and trouble us. Our hearts are like a tree, with its many branches, tossed and torn by the storm. But in the multitude of our thoughts within us, there are comforts still left to us. First, Christ is not changed. Next, he knows all that has come to us, and has pity. Then, he has his own gracious purposes in our afflictions. They are necessary for our good (Isaiah 59:2; Hosea 5:15). Then we should not count such trials as strange, as we are under a spiritual dispensation. Christ is really with us still, in his Word and Spirit and the ministry of his people. He even comes at times to us, when we know him not (Matthew 25:38). Then we should remember that he has, for a season, put a restraint upon himself. We may say, like Martha, "If thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." And this is true. But our Lord could not be here with us, as in the days of Iris flesh, and at the same time carry out his plans of discipline and training under the Spirit. Last of all, let us remember that these trials are temporary. They may end here. They will certainly end hereafter. Our Lord knew himself the pain of desertion; and he longs to have us with him, where there shall he no more hidings of his face, or crying, or tears. Let us, therefore, take the counsel of Elihu, "Although thou sayest thou shalt not see him, yet judgment is before him; therefore trust thou in him" (Job 35:14; cf. Isaiah 8:17).—W.F.
HOMILIES BY C. SHORT