Part 3 "IT IS I"

When the angel of destruction smote Egypt’s firstborn, but passed over the houses of the Israelites, the feeble infant was as safe as the vigorous man was, if the blood was sprinkled on the doorposts. The strength of the vigorous man could not have defended him. The helplessness of the feeble infant could not have endangered him. So the blood of Christ is our only and all-sufficient safeguard. When Jesus was in the ship with His disciples, the weakest of them was as safe as the strongest, for the security of all was the same—the presence of their Lord. So if He is with us in the storm, our safety is not affected by anything in ourselves, but is absolutely guaranteed by Him. "It is I!" Whatever our unworthiness, however weak our faith, Christ is our deliverer; and "He is able to save to the uttermost." A helpless disciple, holding the hand of a mighty Savior, will come forth unhurt out of every storm. Jesus says, "My grace is sufficient for you: for My strength is made perfect in weakness." With the apostle let me respond, and say, "Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in necessities, in distresses: for when I am weak, then am I strong" (2 Cor. 12:7-10).

"It is I!" This was a voice the efficacy of which the disciples had often witnessed. It had said, "Arise; take up your bed, and walk," and the poor cripple was made whole. It had said, "Be opened," and the ears of the deaf were unstopped. It had said to the leper, "Be clean," and "immediately his leprosy departed from him." It had said, "Go out of him," and the demoniac was restored to his right mind. It had said, "Arise," and "he who was dead sat up, and began to speak." It had just blessed the five loaves and the two fish—and twelve baskets full of fragments remained after five thousand had feasted. And the disciples had been before in a storm, when Jesus was asleep in the hinder part of the ship. "They were in jeopardy," for "the ship was covered with the waves." But when Jesus rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, "Peace; be still," the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. Might not the disciples reasonably dispel their fears, when a voice, which had always been so mighty said, "Be of good cheer"?

Afflicted believer, is the voice that addresses you altogether strange? Can you not call to mind many a storm in which it has dispelled your fears and soothed your sorrows? Does not the history of the Church in all ages testify to the wonderful deliverances Christ has effected for His people! Have not His followers always been tossed with tempests? Yet has not the Lord delivered out of them all? It is not more certain that Christians have always been an afflicted people, than that Jesus has always been with them to preserve them amid the tempest. How great the cloud of witnesses who testify to His constant care and unchanging love! How innumerable the multitudes who have come out of great tribulation, and now, clothed in white clothing, ascribe salvation to God and the Lamb!

Yes! It is a voice that has never spoken in vain! Be of good cheer, afflicted disciple! Think what He has already done for you! He groaned, bled, and died for you. You were lost, but He found you; an enemy, but He reconciled you; a captive, but He freed you; blind, but He cured you; dead, but He quickened you. He washed you from your guilt in His own blood. He clothed you with His own white robe. He renewed your corrupt nature. He imparted to you His sanctifying and comforting Spirit. He introduced you to the Father, and you became a child of God. He now intercedes for you, is preparing for you a mansion of glory. "For God has reserved a priceless inheritance for his children. It is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay." How often has He spoken to you in tones of tenderness! How has your heart burned within you as He has walked with you in the way! What peace and joy have you experienced while He has held converse with your soul! Has not He turned your mourning into dancing, your night into day, and your tempest into calm already?

Having done so much for you, will He now leave you to perish? May you not with confidence use the same argument with which Manoah was comforted by his wife, when, having been visited by the angel of Jehovah, he feared they would be destroyed? "If the Lord were pleased to kill us, He would not have received a burned offering and a food offering at our hands, neither would He have showed us all these things." Would Jesus have done so much for you already—would He have called you by His grace, renewed you by His Spirit, comforted you by His love, and preserved you to this day, if He intended now to abandon you? If He sought you when a stranger, will He not take care of you now that you are achild? If the foe was loved, how much more the friend! "If, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, how much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by His life!" Will He refuse to answer the prayers He Himself has prompted, to fulfill the hopes He Himself has inspired, to honor the confidence He Himself has encouraged, to complete the work He Himself has begun? No! Former mercies are a sure pledge of the future inheritance, former deliverances a certain pledge of final safety! Amid the howling of the storm, let this be your song—

He’ll leave me at last, in trouble to sink;
Each sweet Ebenezer I have in review
Confirms his good pleasure to bring me quite through.

How unreasonable is it for a disciple of Jesus to worry! We are told to cast all our burdens on Him, "for He cares for us." How unnecessary to do that for ourselves which is so much better done by Him! He has undertaken to do all for us which not only our safety but our happiness requires. His infinite love prompts Him always to choose what His infinite wisdomsees to be best for us, while His infinite power enables Him to accomplish it. Are we not perfectly safe then in such keeping? Suppose we could control the elements, and that for some important object we had called forth a storm. If we were in a vessel that could not sink, we would contemplate the raging waters with pleasure, knowing that they were fulfilling our own intentions, and that a perfect calm would ensue the moment that we gave the word. But this is actually true—only the ruling of the storm is in the hands of Jesus instead of our own. Shall we be less courageous on this account? Doesn’t He know much better than we the special purposes for which the storm is needed, and the precise moment when its tempest should be allayed? Should we not rely with fullest confidence on His watchful care, and rejoice, however loud the tempest, that it can accomplish only our good, having no power to do us harm?

"It is I!" Oh, how should all anxieties subside at the sound! Are they caused by the cares of this life? Jesus says, "So I tell you, don't worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food, drink, and clothes. Doesn't life consist of more than food and clothing? Look at the birds. They don't need to plant or harvest or put food in barns because your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than they are. Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? Of course not. And why worry about your clothes? Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don't work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, won't he more surely care for you? You have so little faith!" "All things work together for good to those who love God." "For the angel of the Lord guards all who fear him, and he rescues them." "Even strong young lions sometimes go hungry, but those who trust in the Lord will never lack any good thing." "The righteous face many troubles, but the Lord rescues them from each and every one." (Matt. 6:25-34; Rom. 8:28; Ps. 34:7, 10, 19).

Why then should Christians fear? And if Jesus cares for the body, how much more will He supply the needs of the soul! Is not His assurance, "My grace is sufficient for you," encouragement enough in every extremity? Has He not undertaken everything for the sinner? Is He not made to us "wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption?" However "poor and wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked" in ourselves, are we not "complete in Him?" What could He say that He has left unsaid, to calm our apprehensions? "O afflicted one, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, I hid My face from you for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on you. For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but My kindness shall not depart from you, neither shall the covenant of My peace be removed, says the Lord that has mercy on you. Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown! When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior!" He is faithful who has promised. He cannot deny Himself. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but His words shall not pass away; and He has said of all His people, "I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any one pluck them out of My hand" (Isa. 54:6-17; 43:1-3; John 10:28).

Let us but believe these promises, and there will be a great calm. As when the disciples "received Jesus into the ship, the wind ceased, and immediately they were at the land where they went," so when we by faith fully receive Christ into our hearts, the raging of the storm is over. The external troubles may continue, but can produce no tempest within. The believer is "kept in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on God." One of the martyrs, exposed to public derision in an iron cage, is reported to have said to a bystander, who expressed surprise at the cheerfulness he manifested, "You can see these bars, but you cannot hear the music in my conscience." So the world, looking only at the outward affliction, may see no abatement of the hurricane, and may wonder at the composure the Christian exhibits in the midst of it. They hear the thunder, and the roaring of the winds and waves, but cannot distinguish the voice of Jesus saying, "It is I," which so cheers the tossed disciple. They can view the outward trouble, but not the inward consolation of the life "hidden with Christ." It is "the peace of God, which passes all understanding."

Let us then reply to the promises of God in the exulting language of faith. Let songs of praise arise from the ark in which we are securely borne along amid the storm. "God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. So we will not fear, even if earthquakes come and the mountains crumble into the sea. Let the oceans roar and foam. Let the mountains tremble as the waters surge! I hear the tumult of the raging seas as your waves and surging tides sweep over me. Yet the Lord will command His loving-kindness in the daytime, and in the night His song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. O Lord God Almighty! Where is there anyone as mighty as you, Lord? Faithfulness is your very character. You are the one who rules the oceans. When their waves rise in fearful storms, you subdue them! Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disturbed within me? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again—my Savior and my God! (Ps. 46:1-3; 42:7-8, 11; 89:8-9)

When conscience accuses, hear Him say, "It is I! I, who have fully atoned for your sins! I, who have blotted them all out by My blood!" When the thought of God alarms, listen to His voice: "It is I! I, who have made peace by the blood of the cross! I, by whom the just God becomes the justifier of the ungodly!" When the painful conviction of shortcomings, after all our striving, overwhelms, again He says, "It is I! I, whose white robe will cover all your filthy rags! I, from whose perfect obedience, and not from your own unworthiness, you are to look for acceptance with God!" When a sense of weakness, and inability to cope with the many difficulties and dangers which surround us, depresses the mind, again His voice is heard, "It is I! I, who have engaged to perform all things for you! I, who will never leave you nor forsake you!"

"It is I!" This is enough to satisfy every doubt, to quell every fear, to meet every difficulty. Am I guilty? Jesus receives the chief of sinners! Am I helpless? Jesus is able to save to the uttermost! Am I lost? Jesus "came to seek and to save the lost!" Have I no merits? Jesus is "made to us righteousness!" Have I nothing? In Jesus, "all fullness dwells!" He died for me; He lives to intercede for me; He watches over, strengthens, supports me; He guides me in darkness, cheers me in sorrow, defends me in danger, and is preparing a place for me in heaven! If He is with me, what can injure me? If He is for me, who can be against me? The winds and the waves may roar around, but they have no power to harm me while Jesus says, "It is I!"

And when the last storm of life assails me, He will still be at hand. "Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff they comfort me." It will not be a dark valley, if His form appears in it; it will not be dreary, if His voice is heard. There is no such thing as death to the believer. "He who believes in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and he that lives and believes in Me, shall never die."

Jesus, by His own dying, extracted the sting from death, and deprived it of all power to injure. "He destroyed death, and delivered them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage." We can echo the sentiment of a departing saint, who said, "I can smile on death, because Jesus smiles on me." Or rather death disappears, and Christ alone is seen. He holds the keys of the invisible world, and is present at the deathbed of every saint, to liberate the spirit from the corruptible body, and to receive it into the "house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."

Let this be our consolation when we mourn over those who sleep in Jesus. It is not an enemy who has done this. It is no frightful monster who has torn that dear one from our loving embrace. It was a Brother’s arms that received the departing spirit. He commits the important office to no inferior messenger, far less to an enemy. "I will come again, and receive you unto Myself." The dying Stephen beheld Him, when he said, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." Yes, it is Jesus! In that chamber of anxiety and tears, where the feeble tide of ebbing life is watched so tenderly, and all is being done that skill and kindness can suggest to delay the dreaded moment of separation, Jesus is saying, "It is I!" In that darkened abode, where the activity of love no longer holds back the floodgates of grief, Jesus whispers, "It is I!" At that sad funeral procession, each advancing step of which seems as though it were conveying the mourners to their own burial, Jesus—as at Nain—touches the coffin, and says to the widow, the fatherless, the friendless, "It is I." At the open grave, where with that dead body are to be sepulchered so many living joys and hopes, Jesus—as at Bethany—stands among the mourners and, while weeping with them, allays their sorrow, saying, "It is I." Yes, it is Jesus who has taken away the departed spirit, to the full enjoyment of a love still tenderer than theirs, in a world where tears are never shed, and pain is never felt, and death is forever unknown! Let us then be consoled by the thought of the instantaneous and perfect bliss of those whose separation from us we lament. Amid the storm, in which we lose sight for a season of those who were dearer than life itself,

This is the solace to our sorrow given,
That they were borne on tempest’s wing to heaven,
And are rejoicing, midst the pure and free,
In the high home of God, where there is no more sea!

This consideration should be enough to sustain our minds when a similar tempest bursts upon us. Death to the disciple is Jesus. Every symptom of increasing disease only proves that Jesus is nearer. The clouds may seem dark, the thunder terrible, the waves overwhelming; but they only betoken the near approach of our heavenly Friend. He speaks amid the tumult, and says, "It is I!—I, who, having prepared your mansion, have come to take you to Myself! Be of good cheer; it is I; do not be afraid!" Shall we shrink from His embrace? Shall we not rather rejoice that our deliverance draws near, knowing that to depart and be with Jesus is far better?

The author, being recently at Scarborough, during tempestuous weather, observed early in the morning two small fishing vessels approaching the harbor. The crews had been exposed to the gale for several days, and their strength and provisions were nearly exhausted. How eagerly they longed for the plenty, and security, and repose, which seemed now so near! But such furious breakers raged round the pier, that it was obvious to those on shore that to attempt an entrance would be destruction. The cliff was hastily scaled, a beacon kindled, and signals made that they must again stay out to sea. In a few minutes the warning would be too late. There was a moment’s anxious suspense. Then the little vessels were seen reluctantly to alter their coarse and, disappointed in their hopes, their exhausted crews had again to face the storm!

How happy the contrast in the case of the disciple of Christ! The fury of the tempest, instead of driving him from his strong refuge, makes him only the more welcome there. The harbor of Christ’s love is always accessible! The greater our distress, the readier our entrance! And the final resting place—the heaven of glory, where that love is fully manifested, and where those who enter are secure from all future perils—is full in view when the great and final tempest bursts over us. How invitingly does it spread itself out before the eye of faith! How perfect the peace, how unbroken the calm, how ineffable the bliss which are experienced there! No tears are shed, no alarm is felt, no temptations assail there! The beacon blazes, not to repel, but to allure! Angels beckon us to approach! Jesus bids us not be dismayed! For the last time, he says, "Be of good cheer; it is I!" No disciple ever suffered shipwreck in endeavoring to enter there. The tempest that rages outside only drives the laboring vessel more quickly in. Those waves only bear the soul more rapidly home. That hurricane only wafts the spirit more triumphantly to God! How brief the struggle, how long the repose! "After you have suffered awhile, eternal glory!" Of the accumulated trials of the longest life, we may say, with such a prospect, "For our present troubles are quite small and won't last very long. Yet they produce for us an immeasurably great glory that will last forever! So we don't look at the troubles we can see right now; rather, we look forward to what we have not yet seen. For the troubles we see will soon be over, but the joys to come will last forever." "O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?"

Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief! Pity and pardon the fears of your poor, weak, trembling disciple! Help me to behold You more clearly, more constantly! May I hear Your voice both in the tempest and the calm. Let the kind assurance, "It is I," always be enough to gladden my heart. Often have You said, "Come unto Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden; and I will give you rest." Lord, I would now accept Your gracious call. I bring You nothing but a burden of guilt and wretchedness! Naked, vile, undone, just as I am, I come! And I know You will not cast me out. From the midst of the waves, I look up to You! I am come into deep waters! The winds are boisterous, the tempest is high! Outward woes, inward conflicts, assail my feeble bark! I must soon sink without Your promised help! Save me, O God, for the waters are come in unto my soul! Let not the flood-waters overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up! The sorrows of my heart are enlarged: oh, bring me out of my distresses! Lord, save me, or I perish! Rebuke the waves! Bring me out of many waters! Let the light of Your love disperse the darkness! Let the thunder of the storm be hushed by Your voice, saying, "It is I; do not be afraid!"

Jesus! lover of my soul,
Let me to Your bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide,
Until the storm of life is past:
Safe into the haven guide:
O receive my soul at last!"

Back to Part 2 "IT IS I"

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