The Gentleness of Christ.

 
WHAT would our life as believers be without the “gentleness of Christ?” We want the power of Him Who checks the foaming billows with a word. We also need that the thoughts and intents of our hearts shall be laid bare by the sharp, two-edged sword that goeth out of His mouth. But in Him, we also know the “tender mercy of our God;” and, oh, how grateful to our troubled spirits are the gracious dealings-of the love of Christ. When we are plunged into grief and sadness, and the hand of Omnipotence comes to our relief, how wondrously soft and gentle His touches are. No arm that encircles us is like His. No voice thrills with loving sympathy such as His.
It was so in the days of His flesh. Truly, power was present. Infinite power was there, that met no match. Winds and waves, traders in the temple and constables in the garden, the demons and their prince, diseases and death itself, all owned the power of the “meek and lowly” Man. But His power was not infinite in its might alone, it was also infinite in love. While it could crush the proudest, it could also raise the humblest and the frailest.
Nothing is more exquisitely sensitive than a bleeding heart. The Lord was here especially to “bind up the broken-hearted.” And what a skillful physician He was. How gently He poured in “the oil and the wine.” See that poor woman at His feet, trembling lest mayhap she has no right to the “virtue” she found at the hem of His garment. How sweetly assuring are the words that fall on her ears “Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.”
When His disciples were toiling on the sea that stormy night, the Lord came to them. But before He caused the wind to cease, His tender and compassionate sympathy entered into the anxieties oppressing their hearts, and He said to them, “Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.”
It was thus that the gentle, loving concern of Jesus suited itself to the frail creatures that they were, and that we are. The Psalmist of old, singing of Jehovah, said, “He knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.” We can see it in the Jehovah-Jesus on earth, Who did not break the “bruised reed,” nor “quench the smoking flax.” We know it is so still, for He is the same “yesterday and today and forever.” Indeed we have surely proved for ourselves how He comes to us amid our trials, how He is “touched with the feeling of our infirmities,” and how gently He gives us the “garment of praise” in exchange for the “spirit of heaviness.”
And as we have known the “gentleness of Christ” in relieving our sorrows, so we have experienced the same when we have been thoughtless and wayward and willful. We can adopt with truthfulness the words of that hymn which says: ―
“But, gracious Lord, when we reflect
How apt to turn the eye from Thee—
Forget Thee too with sad neglect,
And listen to the enemy!
And yet we find Thee still the same―
‘Tis this that humbles us with shame.”
How beautifully the luster of this grace of the Master shone out toward His disciples on that night in which He was betrayed. When He sought the shades of Gethsemane’s garden, there to pour out His soul in supplications with “strong crying and tears,” He took apart from the rest the privileged trio, — Peter, James and John. To them He said, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me.” He turned to them whom He had “chosen out of the world,” and into whose ears but a few brief moments before He had poured a flood of heavenly confidences, and desired that they might watch with Him as He prayed. He looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters but found none, no, not even among His own.
Who shall tell what it was to the heart of the Lord to return and find the three asleep? Neither the ardent Peter nor the disciple whom He loved nor his brother could watch with Him for one short hour. “What!” said He to Peter, “could ye not watch with me one hour?”
It was a reproach, and deserved by them, too; for self had claimed its indulgence. But who but He could convey the reproach so gently? Indeed, He went on to soften it still more. For He Himself found an excuse for them. He knew the sorrow that filled their hearts because of His imminent departure, and the consequent heaviness of their eyes. So He added, “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Beloved, it is He Who is our Advocate with the Father. It is He Who maketh intercession for us. His gentle grace engages itself with us. May we become like-minded to Him. Let us put on, “as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering, forbearing one another, and for-giving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any; even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye” (Col. 3:12, 1312Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering; 13Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye. (Colossians 3:12‑13)).