FELLOW FEELING For we have not
a high priest, which cannot be touched with the feeling of our
infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without
sin. As the appearance of the bow
that is in the cloud in the day of rain, so was the appearance
of the brightness round about. This was the appearance of the
likeness of the glory of the Lord. Ezekiel 1 verse 28 What
an elevating truth! The sympathy of the God-Man-Mediator,
The true Rainbow in the Cloud, Jesus in our sorrows! What a
source of exalted joy To the stripped and desolate heart!
What a green pasture to lie down upon Amid the windy storm and
tempest, Or in the dark and cloudy day! The sympathy of man is cheering
and comforting, but thus far shall you go and no farther. It is finite, limited, often
selfish. There are nameless and numerous
sorrows on earth, beyond the reach of all human alleviation. The sympathy of Jesus is alone
exalted, pure, infinite, removed from all taint of selfishness. He has Himself passed through
every experience of woe. There are no depths of sorrow
or anguish into which I can be plunged, but His everlasting
arms are lower still. He has been called the great
sympathetic nerve of His Church, over which the afflictions and
oppressions and sufferings of His people continually pass. Child of Sorrow, a human heart
beats on the throne, and He has your name written on that heart. He cares for you as if none other
claimed His regard. As the great High Priest, he
walks in the midst of his temple lamps, his golden candlesticks,
replenishing them, at times with oil, trimming them, if need be,
but all in order that they may burn with a steadier and purer
luster. He was tempted in every way. Blessed assurance! I can never
know the sorrow into which the man of sorrows cannot enter. Ah, rather, in the midst of earth's
most lacerating trials, let me listen to the unanswerable challenge
from the lips of a suffering Saviour. Was there ever any sorrow
like unto my sorrow? Yet he refused not to drink the
cup of wrath. He shrunk not back from the appointed
cross. He set his face steadfastly to
go to Jerusalem, and even when he hung upon the bitter tree,
he refused the vinegar that would have assuaged the rage of thirst
and mitigated physical suffering. Are we tempted at times to murmur
under God's afflicting hand? Think about all He endured when
sinful people did such terrible things to Him, so that you don't
become weary and give up. Shall we hesitate to bear any
trial Our Lord and Master sees fit to lay upon us, When we think
of the infinitely weightier cross He so meekly and uncomplainingly
Carried for us? Afflicted one, have your eye
on this radiant rainbow in your cloud of sorrow. You may, like
the disciples on the Transfiguration Mount, fear to enter the cloud,
but hear the voice issuing from it. This is my Beloved Son. Hear Him! Jesus speaks through
these clouds. He tells us our cares are His
cares, our sorrows His sorrows. He has some wise and gracious
end in every mysterious chastisement. His language is, Hear the rod,
and he who has appointed it. He has too kind and loving a
heart To cause us one needless or superfluous pang. O that we
may indeed hear the voice out of the cloud, and seek that the
trials he sends in love may be greatly sanctified! Let us not
dream that affliction of itself is a pathway to heaven. Clouds
do not form the material rainbow. These glorious hues come from
the sunbeams alone. Without the latter we could discern
nothing but blackened heavens and dismal rain-torrents. It
was not because those clad in white robes had come out of great
tribulation that they were enjoying the beatific presence, but because
they had washed their robes and made them white in the blood
of the Lamb. We only have reason to glory
in affliction when it has been the means of bringing us nearer
the Saviour and leading us to the opened fountain.