John 11:16

‘THAT WE MAY DIE WITH HIM’

‘Then said Thomas, which is called Didymus, unto his fellow=disciples, Let us also go, that we may die with him.’

John 11:16

This was the devoted resolution of St. Thomas directly our Lord had given the word to His little company to return into Judæa, quite well knowing that the position in that district had become so bitter, that not only had His enemies threatened His life, but had even attempted to take it. But now His friend Lazarus had fallen sick and died, and there was something in that which showed Christ that it was His duty to return to Judæa whatever the result. He knew He was doing nothing rash in returning to Judæa amongst His enemies. The work presented itself for Him to do, it was a work of God and it had to be done. He knew that the issue of this would be, in some most emphatic way, to the glory of God, but He was unable to communicate this to His disciples. To them it appeared impossible that it could end in anything but despair. These level-headed men were beginning to count the cost of following Jesus Christ—they had been realising how much it meant. There comes a cost greater than they expected—they see failure and death reach first their Master, and then themselves. Their first thought seems to have been for their Master. But presently, perhaps when they saw Christ’s resolve was made, their bearing showed signs of fear for themselves, and this makes St. Thomas revive their courage by saying, ‘Let us go, that we may die with Him.’

I. A lost faith.—It is not easy to mistake the meaning of these words. It meant that the faith of this disciple in Christ was dead at that moment. Something remained to him, something which he could not break away from, something which, for its own sake, was worth quietly and ingloriously going to meet death for—it was the Person of Jesus Christ, and in the wreck of His fondest hopes, in the overwhelming disappointment and shame at the failure of what had been full of the promise of success, this disciple of Jesus remained true. He was ready, therefore, to offer to Christ devotion and loyalty to their farthest limits—even to the sacrifice of life, a sacrifice of life with no glory or grandeur attaching to it save an unseen and unknown glory.

II. Deliverance by self-sacrifice.—This hardly seems to be a counsel of despair. We have here a real example for all Christ’s followers in days of darkness and difficulty. We are confused and disappointed, and a darkness looms around and ahead. It becomes more difficult to engage in prayer and worship, and the people who were so sure of God’s Word, once such a world of comfort, once such a rich source of inspiration, find its voice sounds uncertain. Once so Divine in tone and teaching, it now becomes more and more obscure. At such times there is only one thought that can lead to the light again out of darkness. The real help is self-sacrifice. ‘Let us go also, that we may die with Him.’ At such times at least, to men and women, there ever remains, as to St. Thomas, the figure of Jesus Christ. Dissolved, perhaps, much of that glory which once they beheld, of whom perhaps nothing seems left save Ecce Homo! Behold the man! Yes, still Ecce Homo! can be said, and Christ still remains, with all that majesty still unapproachable, at the head of the human race, worthy of all love, of all devotion. From that height Christ calls to all to follow with Him the real road of self-sacrifice. Yes, do not let us mistake, it is real self-sacrifice that is required. ‘Let us also go, that we may die with Him.’ Do not let us mistake the self-sacrifice open to us to-day—the charity—of which we have so many lamentable examples. God, if we may say so reverently, cannot treat us seriously in our defence of faith unless we treat ourselves seriously, and prove ourselves ready to make a great venture—the daring attempt to take the Kingdom of Heaven by violence. Only when we are ready with set faces to go right into the heart of the struggle, only when we are ready to go on sacrificing more and more—only then can we hope that to us will come the light, the power. With the spirit of self-sacrifice—only let it be real—the darkness will pass away.

Rev. G. K. S. Marshall.

(SECOND OUTLINE)

THOMAS, THE DEVOTED DISCIPLE

To some, Thomas is merely the disciple who doubted, an example of unorthodoxy, of denial, one to whom we can feel pleasantly superior. This is due to the concentration of attention on one episode of his life, not altogether understood. We all know the Thomas who said, ‘I will not believe’; we are apt to forget the Thomas who said, ‘Let us go.’ But to others, an increasing number, Thomas is—

I. The devoted disciple, whose devotion is all the more noteworthy because it went hand in hand with doubt. If his belief was wavering, his loyalty is unswerving. Belief is of the head, loyalty of the heart. In the first three Gospels Thomas is a name and nothing more. In John he is a living man, hampered by human infirmities, but ennobled by human devotion.

II. He was absolutely sincere and in deadly earnest.—He would not affect a faith which he had not reached, neither did he affect a doubt which he did not feel. He was not like the dilettante doubters we sometimes meet with, who brush the whole thing aside lightly with the superior air of those who have outlived old-fashioned superstitions: he was quite aware in his grim and silent way that what he doubted was life or death, not only to himself but to a dying world. He was sincere: his doubt was the logical result of his mental temperament.

III. He was a pessimist.—He took habitually the dark side of things. When others saw a risk of disaster he saw a desperate certainty; when others could leap to a conclusion he not only would not, but could not; he must feel his way step by step. Never with him was the wish the father to the thought; because he wished a thing true he hesitated, lest his intellect should be misled by inclination. This temperament has its virtues as well as its vices, its advantages and disadvantages. Its danger lies in its temptation; because it cannot believe everything, it believes nothing; also in its temptation to sloth, in paralysis of the sense of duty, in excuse for disloyalty. But not so with Thomas. Tidings had come from Bethany, ‘Behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick,’ which determined our Lord to return to Judæa and place Himself once more in the power of His deadly enemies—‘Let us go into Judæa again’—but there was only one thought among the disciples. They said, ‘Rabbi, the Jews were but now seeking to stone Thee; and goest Thou thither again?’ Their fear was perfectly well founded; the Lord did not set it aside—He invited them to share His peril: ‘Let us go to him.’ We can picture the still sadness which fell on the little band when they heard His words. At last the silence is broken. By whom? By Peter, dauntless in his impetuous courage? By John, strong in unquestioning love? No, by Thomas—‘ Let us also go, that we may die with Him.’ He could buoy himself up with no illusions; he might think his Master mistaken in venturing to Judæa; he would profess no hope in which he could not share; his presence could not save his Master; but there was one thing he could do— he could die with Him.

If this is not devotion, tell me what is? Devotion surely worthy of all reverence and imitation when combined with any mental temperament, but when allied to such a cast of mind as Thomas’s, devotion doubly great.

—Rev. F. Ealand.