Luke 9:34

THE OVERSHADOWING CLOUD

‘There came a cloud, and overshadowed them: and they feared as they entered into the cloud.’

Luke 9:34

How like were the disciples then to some of us who are Christ’s disciples now! That overshadowing cloud warns us, as it warned St. Peter, that this world is a battle-field, not a vision of Peace; a working time, not the rest that remaineth; the Mount of Crucifixion, not the Mount of Glory. To our Blessed Lord Himself that overshadowing cloud was a type of what His earthly life was to be.

I. The clouds.—Is it not true of you that often the cloud comes and overshadows you;—the cloud of anxiety, the cloud of sorrow, of disappointed hope, and disallowed design?

(a) Those who are rich in this world’s goods must often find the overshadowing cloud of anxiety darkening their lives; they wonder anxiously how their family will use their wealth when they are gone, and some must confess sadly that ‘they have heaped up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them.’ Some among us have planted our home garden, and hedged it round, yet the cloud of apprehension comes lest the fairest flower of all should wither under the bitter blight of death.

(b) To the thoughtful and sympathetic there is ever present the overshadowing cloud of sorrow for others. However prosperous he may be, and in whatever happy scenes his own lot may be cast, he cannot but think of those who are living in poverty, in misery, and in crime almost at his very doors.

(c) And what shall we say of the poor? Is there not the overshadowing cloud ever present with them, the fear of hard times, of illness, or of failing strength, a cloud which sometimes seems to shut out the glory of God from their eyes?

II. Clouds hiding Christ.—The Apostles feared as the radiant forms of Jesus and His companions entered into the cloud; they feared because the cloud hid their Saviour from them, as the cloud hid Him at a later day when He ascended up into heaven. They were afraid to lose sight of Jesus even for a little while. So we, too, shall have much cause for fear if we suffer any cloud, be it of doubt, or trouble, or unbelief, to come between us and our Redeemer even for a moment.

III. The reason of clouds.—Why did the cloud so quickly veil the vision of glory from the Apostles’ sight? Why in this life does sorrow so surely mingle with our joy, and the cloud so quickly dim the sunshine? Because man has fallen from original righteousness, and was expelled from Paradise long ago. And it is because we too often forget this, and look for the undying flowers of Eden here in the wilderness, and desire to build our tabernacles here, instead of looking for a house eternal in the heavens; because we make gods of the idols of earthly joy, and prefer the meat that perishes to the Bread of Heaven, that the cloud so often comes betwixt us and the sunshine.

Presently, from that overshadowing cloud on the Mount of Transfiguration, came a voice, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son; hear Him.’ Ah! when a cloud arises to hide some scene in which we delighted, some form which we loved, some scheme which we cherished, and we fear as they enter into the cloud, may we hear that Voice, the Voice of our Heavenly Father, giving comfort, and saying, ‘This is my beloved Son; hear Him’! To whom else can we go, to whom else can we listen, when a horror of great darkness comes upon us, and the sunshine of our lives is hid? Surely in our hour of trial we shall desire to see and hear ‘Jesus only.’

Illustration

‘We may well take that scene upon the Mount as an allegory of human life, the bright sunshine ever and anon shadowed by the cloud, the sweetest cup of pleasure mixed with some drop of bitterness, since even the happiest

Taste not happiness sincere,

But find the cordial draught is dashed with care.

No one lives long in the world without discovering that

Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;

Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,

And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.

Even the most prosperous among us must admit that the overshadowing cloud has always come upon us in the day of our brightest fortunes. The whole of history tells the same tale. Ask the conqueror, the man whom all delight to honour—ask him for whom fame has woven the fairest chaplet, ask those for whom wealth and beauty have poured forth their choicest gifts, and all alike will tell you of their lives, that ever and again—

Across the sunbeam, with a sudden gloom,

A ghostly shadow flitted.’