Bible Commentaries

Chapter26

Prayer

Almighty God, make for us, through Jesus Christ our Saviour, entrances into the upper places, where the light is brighter than it is down here. We desire to mount as upon the wings of eagles. Thou hast created in our hearts a passion for better things. Our souls yearn for loftier skies than those which now shelter us. Thou art always calling us away to higher heights and more splendid scenes. In Christ Jesus we know not the rest of mean contentment, but the peace of noble ambition. We would therefore "press toward the mark for the prize of our high calling in Christ Jesus." We have not attained, neither are we already perfect, but knowing this and knowing the fulness of the grace that is in Christ Jesus, we would run with patience the race that is set before us.

Thou dost continually surprise us with some new comfort and some unexpected revelation. Thou dost keep the best wine; thou dost not give it unto us; thou hast ever something more behind. Thou art from everlasting to everlasting, and there is no searching of thine understanding. We have heard that power belongeth unto thee; unto thee also, O Lord, belongeth mercy. In thy mercy alone can we live; thy mercy as revealed unto us in thy Acts 9:1-22

WHAT wonderful contrasts there are in this narrative in reference to the character of Saul of Tarsus! He is not the same man throughout, and yet he is the same. The contrasts are so sharp, and, indeed, so violent, as almost to make him into another man altogether. For example, take the first of these contrasts, and you will find that Saul, who went out to persecute, remained to pray. The first verse reads, "And Saul, yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter!" and in the eleventh verse occurs the remarkable expression, "Behold, he prayeth!" He breathed hotly. The breath of his nostrils was a fierce blast that burned the air. How changed in a little time! for his face is turned upward to heaven, and its very look is a pleading supplication. What has occurred? These effects must be accounted for. Have they any counterpart in our own observation and experience? Have any of us passed from fierceness to gentleness, from drunkenness to sobriety, from darkness to light, from blasphemy to worship? Then we understand what is meant by this most startling contrast. There may be others who have advanced so quietly and gradually as to find no such contrast in their own consciousness and experience; but we must not judge the experience of the whole by the experience of the part. This is precisely the work which Christianity undertakes to do. It undertakes to cool your breath, to take the fire out of your blood, to subdue your rancour and your malignity, and to clasp your hands in childlike plea and prayer at your Father's feet. Such is the continual miracle of Christianity. The religion of Jesus Christ would have nothing to do if this were not to be accomplished. Jesus makes the lion lie down with the lamb, and he causes the child to hold the fierce beast, and to put its hand with impunity on the cockatrice den. Other miracles he has ceased to perform, but this continual and infinite surprise is the standing miracle and the standing testimony of Christ.

Take the second contrast, which is quite as remarkable. When Saul was a Pharisee he persecuted; when Saul became a Christian we read in the twenty-second verse that he "proved." How many miles of the moral kind lie between the word "persecuted" and the word "proved"? Yet this is distinctly in the line of Christian purpose and heavenly intent. As a Pharisee he said, "Destroy Christianity, by destroying Christians. Bind them; put an end to this pestilence. Do not stand it any longer. Open your prison doors, and I will fill your dungeons, and we will bring this new and mischievous heresy to a speedy termination." Such was his first policy. Having seen Jesus, and felt his touch, and entered into his Spirit, what does he say? Does he now say, "The persecution must be turned in the other direction; I have been persecuting the wrong parties; now I find it is you Jews, Pharisees, Sadducees, that must be manacled and fettered and put an end to. I change my policy, and I persecute you, every man and woman of you"? Nothing of the kind. Observe this miracle, admire it, and let it stand before you as an argument invincible and complete. What is Saul's tone now? Standing with the scrolls open before him, he reasons and mightily contends; he becomes a vehement and luminous speaker of Christian truth. He increases the more in strength, proving that this is the Christ. Has all the persecuting temper gone? Yes, every whit of it. Why did he not prove to the Christians, in his unconverted state, that they were mistaken? When he was not a converted Acts 9:32-43

32. And it came to pass, as Peter [from this point to chapter Acts 12:18 the narrative is occupied exclusively with the personal work of Peter] passed throughout all quarters [may have included Galilee], he came down also to the saints which dwelt at Lydda [now Ludd].

33. And there he found a certain man named neas, which had kept his bed eight years, and was sick of the palsy.

34. And Peter said unto him, neas, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole: arise, and make thy bed. [Do for thyself what others have so long done for thee.] And he arose immediately.

35. And all that dwelt at Lydda and Saron [a district rather than a town] saw him, and turned to the Lord.

36. Now there was at Joppa [famous in Greek legends as the spot where Andromeda had been bound when she was delivered by Perseus] a certain disciple [no distinction between male and female] named Tabitha [the two names suggesting points of connection with both the Hebrew and the Hellenistic section of the Church], which by interpretation is called Dorcas: this woman was full of good works [a favorite formula of Matthew 9:23-24], and kneeled down, and prayed; and turning him to the body said, Tabitha, arise. And she opened her eyes: and when she saw Peter, she sat up.

41. And he gave her his hand, and lifted her up, and when he had called the saints and widows, presented her alive.

42. And it was known throughout all Joppa; and many believed in the Lord.

43. And it came to pass, that he tarried many days in Joppa with one Simon a tanner.

Summarized Service

HOW did there happen to be any saints at Lydda? That place has not come under our attention in our perusal of these apostolic annals. There are saints in unexpected places. Yet, perhaps, not so unexpected if we had read attentively the portions which have already engaged our interest. In the last verse of the preceding chapter we read, "But Philip was found at Azotus; and passing through he preached in all the cities till he came to Csarea." Lydda lay between Azotus and Csarea, and Philip no doubt had called there and preached the word and founded a Christian Society. How summarily our work is occasionally mentioned. We put a whole history into a single verse. In one broken sentence we sum up a lifetime! There is a cruel condensation which often does not give justice to those who are its subjects. How easily and fluently we read, "But Philip was found at Azotus; and passing through he preached in all the cities till he came to Csarea." These are epitomes which God himself must break up into detail. And thus in many a hurried phrase we shall find service and suffering, trial and triumph, which only God can recognise. We hear it said of the minister that he "called at the house and offered prayer." And probably the announcement is accompanied by the annotation that he was there but a few minutes. By the clock it was but a handful of minutes the man was there, but into those minutes he condensed the experience and the pathos of a lifetime, and in that one brief prayer he spared not the blood of his very heart. Beware of a ruthless condensation. Suspect any epitome which counts but as small dust the details which makes up the energetic service and the patient suffering of the Christian toiler.

Peter found his way to the saints. By what magnetism? Do we not all find out our other selves in every city to which we go? When the surveyor would find out whether there are metallic strata in the district which he surveys, he takes in his right hand the enclosed magnet, and watching that magnet he sees as he carries it over the surface of the ground how it dips, and says in the dipping, "Here you will find what you are in quest of." He does not need to rip up the sod, and to dig far down. The magnet knows where the metal Acts 9:32. There is something better than a name. There is character. There you find no personal renown, no individuality running up into a flashing pinnacle and throwing its superior glory over the commonplace in the midst of which it stands, but you find a high level of character, a solid quantity of moral and spiritual being, and supreme and effective reality. It is towards that estate we should constantly be moving, to the great republic of common holiness.

When Peter was in Lydda he found the man who is to be found in every city. Locally called Æneas, but everywhere called the sick man. Peter "found a certain man named Æneas, which had kept his bed eight years, and was sick of the palsy. That man is in every city and is never healed, except in the individual instance. The genus remains unhealed—a continual appeal to the Petrine spirit, the apostolic love, the redeemed compassion of the Church. Whom we cannot heal we may at least carry to the gate of the temple. We have read of the lame man who was carried daily. These are the secondary services of life. We are not all in the front rank of the ministry, it is not given to every one of us to speak miracles, but to every one is given the sweet grace of helpfulness in this matter of carrying those we cannot heal. Because we cannot do the first and supreme class of work, it does not follow that we are to sit idle all the day. You can bring to Æneas the Christian friend, the Christian suppliant, the Christian sympathizer. Aye, there is no grief but one that cannot be mitigated by Christian love. And even that surely may be in the distance touched with somewhat of redemptiveness, of solicitude and pity, even insanity itself may have its bed made in its affliction. We hear nothing of Peter's doings at Lydda except this miracle; but as Philip had done much at Lydda without any record having been made of it, so Peter may have done much beside this miracle. The miracle itself was a sermon. For "all that dwelt at Lydda and Saron saw him, and turned to the Lord."

Now we come to another city. In Joppa there dwelt a woman who "was full of good works and alms deeds which she did," and she died! How was that? There are some people whom we almost wish would die, and die they will not; nights of frost cannot freeze them, rivers cannot drown them, they have a kind of earthly immortality in their evil doing and in their pestilent mischief, and others whom we want to live always wither and die. They die in the act of giving bread to the hungry. Dorcas may have died with her industrious needle in her fingers—the garment for the poor child half done! There seems to be such a waste of nobility and service in this mysterious Providence. We may be wrong in that outlook as we are in others. Why should not the good ship land? Why should we shed tears when the noble life-vessel touches the shore? Why not throw up our arms and exclaim, "Hallelujah, glory be to God!" So foolish are we and ignorant. Yet not unnaturally so. Who cannot recall people whom we wish to have with us every day? Without whom the house is no home, apart from whom life is only a daily tarrying for death. It is so that God trains us, prunes us, and prepares us for the wider revelation and the higher service. Peter was sent for. He came the nine miles to see what could be done. How natural was this. Who does not send for the strong brother? To hear that a strong man is not far away is to hear a kind of angel singing in the skies again, saying, "Peace on earth and good will toward men." There are times when the strong man is sent for, and these are times of darkness, trouble, personal, and social despair. But there is always a strong man to send for. Always some other man is stronger than you are, and in Christ his strength belongs to you. In that sense we must have "all things common," and none must say that aught that he has belongs to himself alone. It is in this spirit of Christian communism that we must keep Society from putrefaction and souls from sudden despair. There is a hint of the One who "sticketh closer than a brother." When your house is very dark, send for Jesus. He can walk upon the darkness as upon solid rocks. When your life gives way in sudden weakness, or in painful fear, send in double prayer for Jesus. He can make "a dying bed feel soft as downy pillows are." But you are not the people to wait for such crises in which to invite the Lord's anointed to your house. Send for him today, when the table is laden with flowers and every corner of the dwelling is ablaze with His own sunlight. Beautiful was the scene in that house at Joppa. "When he was come they brought him into the upper chamber: and all the widows stood by him weeping, and showing the coats and garments which Dorcas made, while she was with them." How did these widows come to be thus associated? Who took any interest in their welfare? If you read again the sixth chapter of this book you will find that special arrangements were made for the ministration of the common stock for the needy widows of the Hebrews and the Grecians, and you will find amongst the seven men appointed to administer that fund the name of Philip. So this man lives in his works. At Lydda he founded a Christian Society, at Joppa he organized the widows into a society that should receive help from those who were able to give it. Philip does not appear before us in name, but he leaves behind him memorials of his wisdom and his beneficence.

How is it that we like the coats and the garments even better when the seamstress is dead than we did when she was actually making them? That is a tender mystery in life. It is a fact everywhere. The little child's little toy becomes infinitely precious when the tiny player can no longer handle it. And the two little shoes are the most precious property in the house when the little feet that wore them are set away in God's acre. Let us love one another whilst we live! Not a word do I say against the sentiment, which enlarges the actions of the dead, but I would speak for a kind word on behalf of those who are sitting next you and making your own house glad by their deft fingers and their loving hearts.

Now we come to the first miracle of the kind to which apostolic strength was summoned. Up to this time the Apostles had been healing ankle-bones, healing the palsy and divers diseases, and casting out unclean spirits, but now a mightier tyrant looks them in the face. For the first time must the Apostles grapple without the visible Christ with actual DEATH. We may well pause here in the excitement of a great anxiety. Memory rushes upon the heart like a gracious flood as we read these words, "but Peter put them all forth." That was what Christ did! There is the true imitation of the Lord. Some battles may be fought in public, others have to be fought in solitude, so "Peter put them all forth." "Thou when thou prayest enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut the door pray to thy Father which is in secret, and thy Father which is in secret, shall reward thee openly." So "Peter put them all forth," and kneeled down and prayed. Have you ever prayed in the death chamber with none there but the dead friend? How eloquent has been your dumbness, how mighty a rhetoric slumber in your blinding tears! When you were weak then were you strong. "And,"—oh, conjunctive that makes one tremble—"turning to the body," now is the critical moment, "said, Tabitha, arise." "And she opened her eyes, and when she saw Peter she sat up." Let your miracles come through your prayers. Let your prayers always end in the amen of a miracle. What is the use of your solitude and your prayer, your long, intense, mighty communion with God, if when you turn round you cannot work some miracle of love?