Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 2060
“Go your way, tell His disciples and Peter that He goes beforeyou into Galilee: there shall you see Him, as He said unto you.” Mark 16:7.
SEE, Brethren! Jesus delights to meet His people. He is no sooner risen from the dead than He sends a message by an angel to say that He will meet His disciples. His delight is in them. He loves them with a very tender love and He is happiest when He is in their midst. Do not think that you will have to entreat and persuade your Lord to come to you. He delights in near and dear fellowship. The heavenly Bridegroom finds solace in your company if you are indeed espoused to Him. Oh, that you were more anxious to be with Him!
Our Lord knows that to His true people the greatest joy they ever have is for Him to meet them. The disciples were at their saddest. Their Lord, as they thought, was dead. They had just passed the dreariest Sabbath of their lives, for He was in the tomb. And now, to comfort them, He sends no message but this—that He will meet them. He knew that there would be magic in that news to cheer their aching hearts. He would meet them—that would be all-sufficient consolation—“Go into Galilee. There shall you see Him.”
If all the sorrows of God’s people could be poured out in one vast pile, what a mountain they would make! How varied our distresses! How diverse our depressions! But, Beloved, if Jesus will meet us, all the sadness will fly away and all the sorrow will grow light. Only give us His company and we have all things. You know what I mean, many of you. Our Lord has made our hearts to leap for joy in sorrowful times. When we have been filled with physical pain, His company has made us forget the body’s weakness.
And when we have newly come from the grave and our heart has been ready to break through bereavement, the sight of the Savior has sweetened our bitter cup. In His Presence we have felt resigned to the great Father’s will and content to say, “It is the Lord: let Him do what seems Him good.” Until the day break and the shadows flee away forever we want nothing but our Well-Beloved’s company. “Abide with me! Abide with me!”—this is our one prayer. And if we have that fulfilled, all other desires may wait their turn.
My subject is chosen with a view to our coming, as we always do on the first day of the week, to this table of communion. I want every child of God here to seek after, no, to gain full fellowship with Christ. I long to enjoy it myself that I may preach a Savior in whose Presence I live. I long for you to enjoy it—that you may hear not my voice—but His voice, which is sweeter than the music of angels’ harps. Oh, that those who do not know our Lord may now come, by His Grace, hungering after His surpassing sweetness! He is willing to come to you. A prayer will find Him. A tear will draw Him. A look of faith will hold Him fast. Cast yourself on Jesus and His open arms will joyously receive you.
But now to the text. I shall take it just as it stands and make five observations upon it.
I. The first is—JESUS, THAT HE MAY MEET HIS PEOPLE, ISSUES INVITATIONS AND THE INVITATIONS ARE VERY GRACIOUS—“Go, tell His disciples and Peter.” “Tell His disciples.” The invitation is most gracious as directed to them—for “they all forsook Him and fled.” On that night, that doleful night when He most needed company, they slept. And when He was taken off to the hall of Caiaphas, they fled—yes, every one of them. There was not a steadfast spirit among them. They all fled. “Shame on them!” you say? Yes, but Jesus was not ashamed of them. For in one of the first speeches of His glorious life on earth He specially mentions them.
“Tell My disciples”—not picking and choosing here and there a heart more faithful than the rest but mentioning the whole cowardly company, He says, “Tell My disciples.” Brethren, disciples of Christ, Jesus would meet us now. Let us hasten to His Presence. Not one among us dares plume himself upon his fidelity. We have all at times played the coward. We may each one of us hide our faces when we think of our Lord’s most faithful love to us. We have never acted towards
Him according to His deserts. If He had banished us—if He had said, “I will no more acknowledge this dastardly company,” we could not have wondered.
But He invites us all, all who are His disciples—invites us to Himself. Will you stay away? Will any of you be satisfied without beholding that dear Countenance, more marred than that of any man and yet more lovely than the face of angels? Come, all who follow Him, for He bids you come. Hear the address of the message—“Tell My disciples.”
But the bounty and beauty of His Grace lay in this—that one had been worse than the rest and, therefore, for him there is a special finger to beckon him, a special word to call him—“Tell my disciples AND PETER.” He that denied his Lord—he that cursed as he denied, he who, after boisterous self-confidence, trembled at the jest of a maid—is he to be called? Yes, “Tell My disciples and Peter.” If any of you have behaved worse to your Master than others, you are peculiarly called to come to Him now. You have grieved Him and you have been grieving because you have grieved Him. You have been brought to repentance after having slid away from Him and now He seals your pardon by inviting you to Himself.