CHAPTER XXX

St. John a Pillar-Apostle in the Early Christian Church

"James and Cephas and John, they who are reputed to be pillars."—Paul. Gal. ii. 9.

"They went up into the upper chamber where they were abiding; both Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip, ..."—Acts i. 13.

"When the day of Pentecost was now come, they were all together in one place."—Acts ii. 1.

"An angel of the Lord by night opened the prison doors, and brought them out."—Acts v. 19.

"Now when the Apostles which were in Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of the Lord, they sent unto them Peter and John."—Acts viii. 14.

"He (Herod) killed James the brother of John with the sword."—Acts xii. 2.

The next place where we may think of John with his Lord was on a mountain in Galilee. At least once before His death, and twice after His resurrection, He directed His Disciples to meet Him there. For what purpose? Evidently to receive His final commission.

"Jesus came to them and spake unto them, saying, All authority hath been given unto Me in Heaven and on earth. Go ye therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I commanded you: and lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world."

But the disciples were not yet prepared to fulfil this commission. So He appointed another meeting, to be held in Jerusalem, where He met them, "speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God." Here the command on the mountain was limited by another—not to depart from Jerusalem immediately. "Wait" said He, "for the promise of the Father which you heard from Me." That promise we find in John's record:—"I will pray the Father, and He shall give you another Comforter, that He may abide with you forever." "The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, shall teach you all things." "He shall testify of Me." In the fulfilment of that promise, the disciples were to find the preparation to "go" and "preach." For that preparation they were to "wait."

Jesus then reminds them of the assurance given by John the Baptist concerning Himself:—"He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost." Once more John is carried back to the Jordan, and reminded of the time when he and Jesus had been baptized. All those former scenes must have been recalled when Jesus at the final meeting in Jerusalem declared, "John truly baptized with water, but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence."

These words revived in the disciples the hope which had died in them when Jesus died upon the cross. So, with yet mistaken ideas, they asked, "Lord, wilt Thou at this time restore again the kingdom to Israel?" John and the rest of the Bethsaidan band, who had heard the Baptist say that the kingdom of God was at hand, hoped that "at this time" it would appear. But, as when Jesus gave no direct answer to the two pairs of brothers on Olivet concerning the time of the destruction of Jerusalem, or to Peter's question concerning John's future, so now He avoided a direct answer to this last question. He reminded them of something more important for them than knowledge of the future: that was their own duty,—not to reign, but to be witnesses for Him, first in Jerusalem, then throughout Judaea, then in Samaria, then "unto the uttermost parts of the earth." Yet this could not be until they had "received power after that the Holy Ghost had come upon them." This was promised them: they did not clearly understand what was meant: they were waiting to see.

"He led them out until they were over against Bethany,"—well-remembered Bethany. From there Jesus had made His triumphal entry into the City of the Great King: from there He would make a more glorious entry into the New Jerusalem. John was not His herald now. He, with the other ten, was "led" by Him to witness His departure.

As He ascended Olivet the last time, did He not give a parting glance down the slope into the village below, His eye resting on the home of those He loved, made radiant for us by the search-light thrown upon it by the loved disciple at His side? In thought did He not say, "Lazarus, Martha, Mary, farewell."

The lifted hands, the parting blessing, the luminous cloud, and the vanishing form—such is the brief story of the Ascension.

"Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye looking into Heaven?" The questioners were two angels. Without waiting for answer, they gave promise of Jesus' return. "Then returned the disciples unto Jerusalem from the Mount called Olivet." Whither bound? We are told, "They went up into the upper chamber." No longer simply "A large upper room" to which Jesus had told Peter and John they would be guided. Were they not now the guide of the nine thither, to the place where they had six weeks before "prepared" for the Passover? Did not the goodman of the house give the Disciples a second welcome, and offer it to them as a temporary place for the Christian Church? So it would appear, for again we are told, "they were there abiding." Once more Luke gives their names, in the Acts as he did in his Gospel. All except Judas answered, in that upper room, to the roll call of the company scattered from Gethsemane, but reunited in a closer union. In each of Luke's lists he begins with the Bethsaidan band. But he does not preserve the same order. In the latter he begins, not with the two pairs of brothers as such—Peter and Andrew, James and John,—but with the Apostles whom Christ had drawn into His inner circle, Peter, John and James, naming first the two who were already becoming the acknowledged leaders of the Christian band. In that list we find the name of Andrew recorded the last time in Holy Writ.

But the eleven were not alone: others resorted thither for the same purpose. What was that purpose? and who were some of them? This is the answer:—"These all with one accord continued steadfastly in prayer, with the women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus, and with His brethren."

It is here, for the last time, that we read of Mary, in the Gospels. In what better place could we bid her farewell than in the room consecrated by the presence of her Son. How we rejoice with her that in that place the longing of her heart must have been satisfied as she joined "with one accord in prayer ... with His brethren"—her sons who during His life had not believed on Him. What a welcome to that room did they receive from John, their adopted brother! May we not indulge the thought that among "the women" were her own daughters; and that we hear her joyfully asking the once carping question of the Jews concerning "the carpenter's son," but with changed meaning, saying, "His sisters, are they not all with us?" If so "His Mother called Mary," "and His brethren," "and His sisters," and John the adopted son and brother, were at last a blessed family indeed. Mary on her knees with her children around her, rejoicing in God her Saviour, of whom she had sung in the infancy of her Son—that certainly is a fitting scene to be the last in which we behold the Mother of Jesus.

"When the day of Pentecost was now come, they were all together in one place." They were united in feeling, purpose and devotion, in the "one place," the home of the early Church.

The hour had come for the fulfilment of the promise of their Lord, for which they were to tarry in Jerusalem and wait. There was a great miracle,—a sound from Heaven as of the rushing of a mighty wind which filled the house. Flame-like tongues, having the appearance of fire rested on the heads of the disciples, who were "all filled with the Holy Ghost." He gave them utterance as they spoke in languages they had not known before. Crowds of foreigners in the city "were confounded because that every man heard them speaking in his own language."

On the morning of that day the Church numbered one hundred and twenty. "There were added unto them in that day about three thousand souls."

St. John was one of those filled with the Holy Ghost, according to the prophecy he had heard by the Baptist, and the promise by Christ. On him rested a fiery tongue. To him the Spirit gave utterance, perhaps in the languages of those among whom he was to labor in Asia Minor, from where some of these strangers had come. He was in full sympathy with that Christian company, an actor with them, a leader of them, a pillar for them strong and immovable.

But the Upper Room was not the only place where John worshiped. The Temple was still a sanctuary where such as he communed with God. The hour for the evening prayer was nearing when "Peter and John were going up into the Temple." They reached the Beautiful Gate, which Josephus describes as made of Corinthian brass, surpassing in beauty other temple gates, even those which were overlaid with silver and gold. By it they saw what doubtless they had often seen before, a lame man who, during most of the forty years of his life, had been daily brought thither. His weakness was a great contrast to the massive strength of the pillar against which he leaned, as he counted the long hours and the coins he received in charity. His haggard appearance and ugly deformity were a greater contrast to the richness and symmetry of the gate which was so fittingly "called Beautiful."

Was there something especially benignant in the faces of the two Apostles, that encouraged the poor creature to hail them as he saw them "about to go into the Temple"? They were willingly detained. "Peter, fastening his eyes on him, with John, said, 'Look on us.'" A gift was bestowed richer far than that for which he had hoped. They were full of joy themselves, and of pity for him, and of a sense of the power of their Lord, so often exercised in their presence. Therefore the command, "In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk."

That was a strange sight to those who had long known the beggar, as he held Peter with one hand and John with the other, as if leading them into the Temple, into which he entered, "walking, and leaping, and praising God."

The glad shout of the healed man attracted a crowd around him, "greatly wondering." The Apostles declared that the miracle was by no power of their own, but by that of Jesus who had been killed, but had risen from the dead. For this they were arrested and put in prison—strange place for such men and for such a reason. On the next day they were brought before the rulers who demanded by what power they had done this thing. Again the disciples declared it was in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom the Jews crucified, but whom God had raised from the dead. The rulers were amazed when "they saw the boldness of Peter and John." They had known the power of Jesus' words: they saw a like power in the words of the Apostles, whom they were assured had been with Him and been aided by Him. But this did not check their rage, which was increased as they saw how many believed the Apostles. The three thousand converts on the day of Pentecost were increased to five thousand.



As leaders of the Christian company Peter and John were again put into prison—into the public jail for malefactors. But the divine power which had been used through them was now used for them. A solemn warning was given to the daring wickedness of the rulers. When they thought their prisoners kept "with all safety," in the darkness, behind bolted doors, "an angel of the Lord by night opened the prison doors, and brought them out, and said, 'Go ye, and stand and speak in the temple to the people all the words of this Life.'"

We know not the manner in which he led them out as he invisibly opened and closed the doors through which they passed, to obey without fear the heavenly bidding. With consternation the rulers heard a messenger declare, in words almost echoing the angel's command, "Behold the men whom ye put in prison are in the temple standing and teaching the people."

Persecution scattered Christians who fled from Jerusalem, telling wherever they went, of Christ as the Saviour. A deacon named Philip preached in Samaria with great effect. "Now when the Apostles which were at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent unto them Peter and John, who, when they were come down, prayed for them that they might receive the Holy Ghost."

These two were chosen because they had taken the most active part in establishing the church in Jerusalem, and were specially fitted for similar work elsewhere. With what peculiar feelings John must have entered Samaria. He must have recalled a day when hot and weary he had journeyed thither with his Lord and met the Samaritaness at the well. Perhaps he now met her again, and together they talked over that wonderful conversation which made her the first missionary to her people, many of whom declared, "We know that this is indeed the Saviour of the world."

Did John on this visit enter into "a village of the Samaritans"—the same where he had said, "Lord, wilt Thou that we bid fire to come down from heaven and consume them?" Is it of them that it is now said he "prayed for them"? His fire of indignation and revenge had changed to the fire of love. The pentecostal flames had rested on his head.

Once more—only once—we find the names of James and John together. One short sentence, full of pathos, of injustice and cruelty, of affection and sorrow, tells a story of the early Church: Herod "killed James the brother of John with the sword." He was the first martyr of the Apostles. The smaller circle of the three, and the larger one of the twelve, is broken. For these brothers we may take up David's lamentation over Saul and Jonathan, slightly changed, and say, "They were lovely and pleasant in their lives: but in their death they were divided,"—for through half a century John mourned the loss of his loved companion from childhood.

After James—one of the three whom Paul named pillars—had fallen, the other two, Peter and John, stood for awhile side by side in strength and beauty. To each of them he might have given the name Jachin by which one of the pillars of Solomon's temple was called, meaning, "whom God strengthens." Peter was the next to fall, after which John long stood alone, until at last the three whom first we saw by the Sea of Galilee, stood together by the glassy sea, in each of them fulfilled the promise made through John, by their Lord,—"He that overcometh, I will make him a pillar in the Temple of my God, and he shall go out thence no more."



CHAPTER XXXI

Last Days

"I John ... was in the isle that is called Patmos, for the word of God, and the testimony of Jesus.... And I heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet saying, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it to the seven churches."—Rev. i. 9-11.

"Since I, whom Christ's mouth taught, was bidden teach, I went, for many years, about the world, Saying, 'It was so; so I heard and saw,' Speaking as the case asked; and men believed. Afterward came the message to myself In Patmos Isle. I was not bidden teach, But simply listen, take a book and write, Nor set down other than the given word, With nothing left to my arbitrament To choose or change; I wrote, and men believed."

From Samaria John with Peter "returned to Jerusalem." This is the last record of him in the Acts. We have but little information concerning him after that event. He suddenly disappears. We have two glimpses of him which are historic, and several through shadowy traditions.

There was a very important meeting in Jerusalem to settle certain questions in which the early Church was greatly interested, and about which there had been much difference in judgment and feeling. St. Paul was present. He says that St. John was there, one of the three Pillar-Apostles who gave to him and Barnabas "the right hands of fellowship." This is the only time of which we certainly know of the meeting of these two Apostles; though we have imagined the possibility of John's visiting the school of Gamaliel, and worshiping in the Temple when young Saul was in Jerusalem. From this time, A.D., 50, we lose sight of John and do not see him again until A.D., 68, in the Isle of Patmos. As his Lord was hidden eighteen years, from the time of His boyhood visit to Jerusalem until He entered on His public ministry, so long His disciple is concealed from our view. Leaving Jerusalem he probably never returned. Why he left we do not know. It may have been because of persecutions. Perhaps the death of Mary relieved him from the charge we may believe he had faithfully kept, and thus made it possible for him to go about like other Apostles to preach the Gospel. If so we have no hint in what direction he went. He may have gone directly to Ephesus. On reaching it perhaps he found a welcome from some who had heard him speak in their own language on the day of Pentecost. It was a populous city, wealthy and wicked. Its magnificent Temple of Diana was one of the seven wonders of the world. Its ruins give us a hint of its former glory.

All the traditions of early times make Ephesus the home of St. John in the latter part of his life. From it as a centre he ministered to the Churches of Asia Minor.

Gospel truth found its way thither, even before Paul made it the centre of his third missionary tour. He was driven from it, but he left the foundation of a Christian Church, upon which John builded. There were like foundations in at least six other important cities of Asia Minor—Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea.

The silence of the latter half of St. John's life is broken but once, and that by himself. He tells us that he "was in the isle that is called Patmos." It was not far from Ephesus, within a day's sail. It is a huge rock, rugged and barren, only a few miles in length.

Why was John in Patmos? He says, "for the word of God and the testimony of Jesus." What does he mean by this? Perhaps that he was led thither by circumstances of which we do not know, or by the guidance of the Spirit of God, who there would make wonderful revelations to him. But more probably he was banished thither for the preaching of the Gospel of Jesus, and for being a faithful follower of Him, notwithstanding the persecutions of Nero or Domitian. As told in an ancient Latin hymn,—

"To desert islands banished, With God the exile dwells, And sees the future glory His mystic writing tells."

The grotto of La Scala may have been the spot from which he looked out upon the AEgean Sea, and upward into the heavens, communing in solitude with his own thoughts, or with his Lord for whom he was there. Patmos was for this a fitting place, whether he had gone there from his own choice, or had been driven thither by the cruelty of his persecutor. In such solitude did Milton muse, and Bunyan dream.

It was the "Lord's Day," says John. He alone, and at this time only, uses that name with which we have become familiar, though it may have been in common use among the early Christians. It meant much to John, even more than to us. It was a reminder of the day when he looked into, and then entered, the tomb of his Lord, and believed that He had risen from the dead.

His meditations may have been aided by Old Testament Manuscripts, his only companions; especially that of Daniel, in which it is claimed "the spirit and imagery of the Book of Revelation is steeped."

What a contrast there was between the peaceful waves of Gennesaret, creeping silently upon the sandy beach of his childhood home, and the breakers dashing upon the rocky coast of his exile abode in his old age! How suggestive of the calm and turmoil of his life!



But his musings were suddenly broken by "a great voice, as of a trumpet," giving a command—"What thou seest, write in a book." He says, "I turned to see the voice that spake with me." He beheld his Lord in greater grandeur than he had seen Him on earth, even on Hermon. As he gazed upon the divine figure he must have exclaimed,

"Can this be He who used to stray, A pilgrim on the world's highway, Oppressed by power, and mocked by pride, The Nazarene, the Crucified!"

We do not wonder that he says,—"When I saw Him, I fell at His feet as one dead." So had Paul done when the Lord appeared to him at Damascus. John adds, "He laid His right hand upon me, saying, Fear not." The words seem almost an echo from the Holy Mount,—"Jesus came and touched them, and said, Arise, and be not afraid."

The command to John was renewed, to write—of things which he had seen, and what he was yet to behold. The early Christians called him the Eagle, meaning that of all the sacred writers he had the loftiest visions of divine truth.

John's writings are of three kinds, the Book of The Revelation of the secret purposes of God; his Gospel; and his three Epistles or letters.

Although The Revelation is the last of the books of the Bible, it is probably the first of those by John. It contains messages from the Lord in Heaven to the seven churches in Asia, which we have mentioned, concerning their virtues and their failings. To each was given a special promise of reward to those who overcame sin, and were faithful to Christ. From this Revelation of John we get our imagery of Heaven, helping us to understand something of its glory.

His Gospel is supposed to have been written next. Why did he write it? As we have noticed, Matthew, Mark and Luke had already written their Gospels. But there was abundant reason for John's writing the fourth Gospel. We need not doubt the tradition that he was urged to do so by the disciples, elders and bishops of the early Church. They had heard him tell much concerning Christ of which the first three Evangelists had not told. These things were too precious to be forgotten, or to be changed by frequent repetition after his lips were silent. That must be soon, for he was very old, having long passed the limit of human age. They had listened to the story of the early call of the disciples, and of the first miracle at Cana, and of the night visit of Nicodemus to Jesus, and of the talk by the well of Samaria with the Samaritaness, and of the washing of the disciples' feet, and of many other things which Jesus said and did of which no one had written. In John's talks with Christians, and his preaching in their churches, he explained fully and simply the teachings of Jesus, as no one else had done, or could do. They longed for a record of them, that they might read it themselves, and leave it to their children, and those who never could hear the words from his lips.

So St. John wrote his Gospel, giving to his first readers his great reason,—"These are written that ye may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye may have life in His name."

For the writing of his first Epistle he also gives a reason, saying,—"That which we have heard, that which we have seen with our eyes, that which we beheld, and our hands handled concerning the word of life, ... that ... declare we unto you also, that ye also may have fellowship with us."

Through these words John draws us very near to his Lord and ours, Whom we behold through his eyes, and hear through his ears. We almost feel the grasp of a divine yet human hand.

The great theme is the love of God, or as Luther expresses it, "The main substance of this Epistle relates to love." John's Gospel abounds in declarations and illustration of this greatest of truths, but it does not contain the phrase in this Epistle in which he sums up the whole Gospel, "GOD IS LOVE." Because of John's deep sense of God's love, and because of the depth of his own love, the Beloved Apostle is called, The Apostle of Love.

John's second Epistle should be of special interest to the young. From it we infer that there were two Christian homes, in each of which John took delight. The mothers were sisters. His letter is addressed to "The elect lady"—or as she is sometimes called the Lady Electa—and her children. John tells of his love and that of others for them,—Mother and children—because of their Christian character. He tells of his great joy because of the children "walking in the truth"—living as children should live who have learned of the teachings of Christ.

From the group of children around him in the home where he wrote, he sends messages to their aunt, saying, "The children of thine elect sister salute thee." How the children of Electa must have prized that letter! How little they thought that nineteen hundred years after they received it, other children would read it, and think how happy were those who had the Apostle John for their friend.

This letter is one of the things that revealed his child-like spirit. We remember the time when he did not have that spirit. At last he did have it because he became so much like his Master who loved the little ones, and taught His disciples to do the same.

John thought of the child-spirit as the Christ-spirit, whether it was in the old or the young. He called all who had it children. He called those to whom he ministered in his old age his little children. This he does in the last sentence of his last letter to the Christian church,—"My little children, guard yourselves from idols."

Because of his own child-like spirit and his seeking to cultivate it in others, and because of his manifest interest in children, he may be called the Apostle of Childhood.

There is a beautiful tradition concerning him, that in his old age, when he was too feeble to walk to the church or to preach, he was carried thither, and said again and again,—"Little children, love one another." Some said, "Master, why dost thou always say this?" He replied, "It is the Lord's command, and if this alone is done, it is enough." Of his death at the probable age of about one hundred nothing is known. It is claimed that there is a sacred spot somewhere among the tangled thickets of Mt. Prion which looks down on Ephesus where his body was laid.

There is a tradition, inconsistent with the supposition that Mary died in Jerusalem, that she accompanied John to Ephesus and was buried near him; her eyes having been closed by him on whom her Son had looked with dimming vision, commending her to his loving care.

No magnificent tomb marks the place of John's burial. None is needed. But there are richer and abundant memorials of St. John the Divine—an imperishable name because that of the Beloved Disciple of Him Whose name is above every name.



CHAPTER XXXII

A Retrospect

How wonderful and charming a history is that of St. John! Our glimpses of him have been few and often-times indistinct; but they have been enough in number and clearness to reveal a noble and lovable character.

We saw him first on the sea-shore of Gennesaret, not differing from any other Galilean boy. We watched him playing and fishing with his Bethsaidan companions, none of them thinking of how long their friendship would be continued, or in what new and strange circumstances of joy and sorrow, hope and fear, disappointment and glad surprises, that companionship would become closer and closer.

We saw John in his rambles about his home, amid scenes beautiful in themselves, which became sacred because of what he there beheld and heard.

We discovered his relationship to a child in Nazareth whom he did not know at first as the most wonderful being in the world.

We entered his home and visited the school where he was taught of Him who was called the coming Messiah; but who had already come, though his parents and teachers knew it not.

We followed him as a Jewish boy into the Temple, whose glories were to become more glorious in his manhood by what he beheld therein.

We saw him on the Jordan, standing with his kindred and namesake, who pointed him to Jesus as the Messiah for whom he had been looking. From that hour we have known him as a disciple of Jesus, later as one of his twelve Apostles, then one of the chosen three, then the one—the beloved Disciple.

Through his eyes we have beheld the wonderful works of our Lord: with his ears we have heard the most wonderful words ever spoken to man. We have caught glimpses of him in most wonderful scenes which he was almost the only one to behold—amid the glories of the transfiguration, in the death-chamber changed to that of life, in the shadows of Gethsemane.

We have learned through John the sacredness of human friendships, made closer and holier by friendship with the loved and loving Lord. He has been our guide to the Upper Room of joy and sadness; to the Priestly Palace of suffering and of shame; to the cross of agony and death; to the tomb of surprise and exaltation; to the mount of final blessing and ascension.



John saw what kings and prophets longed to see, but died without the sight—the Messiah come. He witnessed probably all the miracles of Jesus, from his first in Cana as a guest, to his last on the sea-shore as a host—the signs of divine power inspired by pity and love. He looked upon the enthusiastic but mistaken throng who in Galilee would force upon Jesus an unwelcome crown; then upon the multitudes who hailed him with hosannas on Olivet; then the maddened crowd who shouted through the streets of Jerusalem, "Crucify Him." He witnessed Christ's movements when the multitudes gathered about Him for instruction and healing, and when he withdrew from them to pray. His eyes were dazzled by the brightness of the transfiguration as he looked upon the form which at last was enshrouded in darkness on Calvary. With another vision he beheld that form in Heaven itself.

On the Jordan he beheld Jesus as the Lamb of God which was to be offered as a sacrifice. He saw the cross become His altar of sacrifice, and then in Heaven discerned Him as the "Lamb as it had been slain." He was witness of Christ's joys and sorrows, shame and suffering, humiliation and exaltation, entering into them more fully than did any other human being.

From the hour in which John stood with the Baptist who told him to behold Jesus, his eye was upon Him, until, because there was no more for him to behold of his Lord on earth, the angels asked, "Why stand ye gazing?" Having seen Him "lifted up" on a beclouded cross, he saw Him "taken up" as a glorious "cloud received Him out of sight."

John heard wondrous things. He became familiar with his Lord's voice, its tones of instruction and exhortation, warning and reproof, invitation and affection, forgiveness and benediction, prayer and praise, depression and agony, joy and triumph. He was no careless listener to the words spoken to Jesus—those of inquiry and pleading, hypocrisy and contempt, mockery and deceit, hatred and love. Beside his Lord, he heard saintly voices, and the voice of the Father.

Much that John saw and heard when with his Lord he has made known. We imagine some things were too tender and sacred for others' ears: concerning such his lips were sealed. Other things were too precious for silence: of such he is the most distinct echo. His Gospel is often a commentary on the other three. He was an eye-witness of most of the events of which he tells. His Gospel is rich with illuminated texts. Having the best understanding of "the words of the Lord Jesus," he is the fullest reporter of His teachings. Having the deepest insight into the heart of hearts of his Lord, he is its clearest revealer. While many others grasped separate truths, he placed them side by side in harmony and unity, and thus held them up and revealed them to mankind. His Lord's words were the most sacred treasures of his memory: his greatest joy was to bring them forth for others to view and admire, that they too might be inspired thereby to "love and good works." Without erasing aught from the pictures drawn by his fellow-Evangelists, he has added to, and filled in, and re-touched with a sympathizing hand. So familiar had he become with his Lord's countenance, with all its varied expressions, and so skilful was he in reproducing them, that his composite portrait is the most beautiful and impressive of all attempts to portray "the human face divine."

Standing outside of some grand cathedral, before its stained window, we mark the figures with their rich depth of color. Passing within we see the same figures, but the outline is more distinct; the colors are richer, and with more harmonious blending. So sometimes we seem to stand with the three Evangelists outside the Gospel Cathedral; and then with John within.

Like Ruth in the field of Boaz he followed the reapers—the first three Evangelists in the field of their Lord,—to "glean even among the sheaves." He "gleaned in the field until evening," the close of the long day of his life, "and beat out that he had gleaned," and gave it to others. There was not need for them to ask him, "Where hast thou gleaned?" There was only one field from which such harvest could be gathered. Rather could they say as Naomi to Ruth, "Blessed is he that did take knowledge of thee."

There have been more noted illustrations of change in character than is furnished in St. John. His early life was not profligate like that of John Newton or John Bunyan. And yet the change in him was marked enough to furnish an exhibition of contrast, showing the power of Christ's teachings and example upon him, until he reached an unwonted degree of perfection. He combined the noblest traits of the loftiest manhood and womanhood, with the simplicity of childhood. His human kinship to Jesus illustrated but faintly the closer and tenderer relation formed by the transforming of his spirit into the likeness of Christ. This was more royal than any merely human relationship. It was the closest relation of which we know of the perfect Christ with imperfect man. We have watched the changes in John's spirit, and seen his imperfections smoothed away, and his character so polished that it became the brightest reflector of the image of Jesus Christ. Yet from the first there were budding virtues in him which Mary Magdalene's supposed gardener brought to perfection.



In history John stands and must ever stand alone. He was one of the two who first accepted the call of Christ to come to Him: he was the last of the Apostles to repeat, in another and yet as true a sense, that invitation to multitudes of men. He was one of those two who first saw what may be called the beginning of the Christian Church, in the little booth by the Jordan: and the last one of the Twelve to remember its fuller establishments in the Upper Chamber of Jerusalem. He was the last man who had seen the last prophet who told of the coming Messiah; and was the last Evangelist to tell that He had come. He was one of the three who were the last to behold the Shechinah, and to whom came the voice of God the Father.

John was the lone disciple in the palace of the high priest, witnessing the injustice, mockery, and cruelty before Pilate; the last one with whom the Lord spoke and on whom His eye rested before His death. He was the lone disciple to gaze upon the cross and witness the dying agonies; the first to look into the deserted tomb; the first of whom we are told that he believed the Lord had risen therefrom. The last survivor of the Apostolic band, he had the fullest opportunity to witness the fulfilment of prophecies of which he was a careful student and clear interpreter. He saw the sad close of the Jewish dispensation, and the glorious beginning of Christianity. He saw the Holy City overthrown, as Christ declared to Him on Olivet that it would be, and had a vision of the New Jerusalem of which the old was a consecrated type, at last profaned.

Of the golden Apostolic chain he was the last link binding the Church to its Lord. He was the last known human kindred of the Son of Man. The last words of inspiration were spoken to and recorded by him. He was the latest prophet, historian, and Evangelist. One of the first to say, "I have seen the Messiah," he was the last to say, "I have seen the Lord."

We have caught glimpses of St. John in the early days of Christianity, as a light and a pillar, a teacher and a guide. Sometimes for years together he has been hidden from our view, and then has emerged with a yet brighter halo around his head. We have watched him on a lonely isle gazing into heaven, beholding glories of which he gives us hints, but which he tells us he cannot fully describe.

Because of his relation to the Lord, the fisher boy unknown beyond the hamlet of Bethsaida two thousand years ago is "spoken of" as truly as Mary of Bethany, whose memory he especially has made sacred and perpetual. Wherever the Gospel is preached he too is remembered, honored and loved.

Because of his relation to the Lord, towns in lands of which he never knew, bear his name; in which people are taught by his words and inspired by his spirit. In them many a family is known by the name St. John. Rivers in their flow bear his name from generation to generation on earth, while he points men to the pure river "proceeding out of the throne of God and the Lamb," which was "showed" him in Patmos. Societies for fraternal fellowship and mutual helpfulness are called after him. St. John's day has a sacred place in the calendar. Many a rural chapel and stately city church are reminders of him. The richness of his graces, and the yet future of his saintly influence, are symbolized in the yet unfinished temple of surpassing grandeur in the City of New York,—"The Cathedral of St. John the Divine."

From all these earthly scenes in which we have beheld him, to which history and tradition have pointed us, and from those things which are memorials of him, we turn to the Heavenly scenes which he bids us behold as they were revealed to him. Thither we follow him after all his trials and labors and triumphs of earth. With reverence and gladness for him, we listen to the voice of the Lord saying to him what He had told him to say to the Churches of Asia:—"Because thou didst overcome I give thee 'to eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God.' Thou shalt 'not be hurt with the second death.' I give thee 'a white stone, and upon the stone a new name written.' I give thee 'the morning star.' 'I will in no wise blot thy name out of the book of life! I make you a pillar in the temple of My God.' O John, rememberest thou thy petition and that of thy brother who has long been with Me,—'Grant unto us that we may sit, one on Thy right hand, and one on Thy left hand in Thy glory'? Thou thoughtest that 'glory' was an earthly throne, which thou never sawest. But thou hast overcome thy pride and ambition, thy jealous and revengeful spirit. Thou hast triumphed over those who were thine enemies because thou wast My friend. Thou didst see My agonies and victories in Gethsemane and on Calvary. Thou didst take up My cry on My cross concerning My work on earth, and sound it forth,—'It is finished.' Dost thou remember My final promise to him that overcometh, which I made from this My true throne of glory, through thee, 'in the isle that is called Patmos'—precious name even here because of thy 'testimony for' Me. That promise I now fulfil in thee. O John, one of My chosen Twelve on earth; yea more, one of My chosen three; yet more, My beloved one, here in Heaven, now, 'Sit down with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father in His throne.'"



CHAPTER XXXIII

Legends and Traditions of St. John

After closing the history of St. John, we linger over the traditions that cluster about his later years. They reveal the feelings of the early Church toward him who was the last of the Apostolic band, and the last who had seen their Lord.

There is one legend so beautiful, so much like him, that we can almost believe it as having a fitting place in his history. It belongs to the time when he preached in the magnificent Church which Christians had reared for him in Ephesus. We may not credit the story that on his brow he wore a golden plate engraven with the inscription, "Holiness to the Lord," but we can almost imagine it written there. His memorable appearance and his tender manner, the loving voice with which he told the story of his Lord, fastened all eyes upon him, and opened all ears to his message of salvation. There was one, a young man, who standing in the distance, looked and listened with such eager interest as to attract the attention of the Apostle. In repentance and faith he found the peace which nothing else can give. He was baptized and numbered with the Ephesian Christians. St. John took special interest in him, training him in Christian doctrine, and preparing him for a useful life. When the hour for John's banishment came, in his anxiety for the youth, he committed him to the care of the Bishop of the place, whom he charged to be faithful in teaching and spiritual guidance.

But the youth was exposed to many temptations from the heathen about him. Their songs and dances and wine again charmed him as they did before he heard the preaching of John. He yielded to their influences, and renounced his profession of Christianity. In the absence of the Apostle, the reproofs of the Bishop only maddened him. He no longer attended the services of the Church, or sought the companionship of Christians. Having entered the paths of sin, he wandered farther and farther therein. At last he committed a crime against the government. In fear of punishment he fled from Ephesus, and joined a company of robbers and bandits in the wild ravines of the mountains. Though young in years, he was so cunning and bold in crime that he became the leader of the band. Inspired by his daring spirit they were ready for deeds of violence that made them the terror of the whole region.

On John's return from his exile in Patmos to Ephesus, he longed to know of the welfare of the young disciple, who had been to him as an adopted son, ever present to his mind and heart in his lonely island. The Bishop, with downcast eyes, sorrow and shame, declared, "He is dead." "How?" asked John, "and by what death?" "He is dead to God," said the Bishop. "He has turned out wicked and abandoned, and at last a robber."

John rent his garments as a sign of distress. Weeping he cried with a loud lamentation, "Alas! alas! to what a guardian have I trusted our brother!" The tender, faithful heart of the aged Apostle yearned for the young man. He was ready to say, "How can I give thee up!" He knew the mercy of God, and the power of love, human and divine; and determined that the robber-chieftain should know it too.

Immediately he procured a horse and guide, and rode toward the stronghold of the robbers. It was in a wild mountainous ravine, with rushing torrents and rugged rocks overgrown with brushwood and luxuriant herbage. It was a place of grandeur, and yet of gloom—a fitting haunt for the robber-band. Few travelers passed that way, and that hurriedly and in terror.

At last the Apostle and his guide heard from behind the rocks the hoarse shouts of revelry. But he heeded them not, so intent was he on his errand. He was seeking the prodigal, his adopted son—who was not seeking the loving father. He drew the reins of his horse, while he told his guide that their journey was ended, and prayed for themselves and for him whom they sought. His nearness was discovered by one of the band, who led him to the rest, and bound his guide. There was a great contrast between the old man with his snowy locks and beard, in his humble garb; and the younger, the wild looking bandit with his streaming hair and loose white kilt; between the defenceless captive, and his captors armed with Roman swords, long lances, and bows and arrows before which he seemed perfectly powerless.

As he looked upon their hardened features they looked into his benignant face, and stood awed in his presence. Their rough manner, words and tones were changed by his smile and even friendly greeting. He made no resistance. His only motion was a wave of his hand. It was mightier than sword or lance or bow. His only request was, "Take me to your captain." Over-awed by the dignity of his manner and his calmness, the captors obeyed their captive and silently led him to their chief. In an open space the tall handsome young man was seated on his horse, wearing bright armor and breastplate, and holding the spear of a warrior. At a glance he recognized his old master, instructor and guide, who had been to him as a father. His first thought was, "Why should this holy man seek me?" He answered his own question, saying to himself, "He has come with just and angry threatenings which I well deserve." John had been called "a son of thunder." As such the trembling chief thought of him, ready to hear him pronounce an awful woe. So with a mingled cry of fear and anguish, he turned his horse and would have fled—a strange sound and sight for his fellow-robbers.

But St. John had no thunder tones for him, no threats of coming punishment. The kind shepherd had found the sheep that had been lost. The father had found the prodigal, without waiting for the wanderer's return. John sprang toward him. He held out his arms in an affectionate manner. He called him by tender names. With earnest entreaty he prevailed on him to stop and listen. As young Saul, when near Damascus caught sight of Jesus and heard His voice, dropped from his horse to the ground; so did the young chieftain at the sight and voice of St. John. With reverence he kneeled before him, and in shame bowed his head to the ground. Like Peter who had denied the same Lord, the young man wept bitterly. His cries of self-reproach and his despair echoed strangely in that rocky defile. As St. John had wept for him, he wept for himself. Those were truly penitential tears. John still spoke encouragingly. The young man lifted his head and embraced the knees of the Apostle, sobbing out, "No hope, no pardon." Then remembering the deeds of his right hand, defiled with blood, he hid it beneath his robe. St. John fell on his knees before him and enfolded him in his arms. He grasped the hand that had been hidden, and bathed it in tears as if he would wash away its bloody stains, and then kissed it, in thought of the good he said it should yet perform.

That hand cast away the sword it had wielded in murder, and lovingly, gratefully held that of John, as the Apostle, and the robber-chief now penitent and forgiven, together left the wilderness; within sight of the astonished band; some of whom were greatly touched by what they had seen and heard, while others were ready to scoff at what they called the weakness of their leader.

Another tradition is a beautiful illustration of the tenderness and sympathy which we may judge was increasingly manifest in St. John's character, the spirit of the Lord "whose tender mercies are over all His works," the spirit St. John had seen in his Master who noticed the sparrow falling to the ground. True it is,

"He prayeth well who loveth well Both man, and bird, and beast. He prayeth best who loveth best All things, both great and small; For the dear Lord who loveth us, He made and loveth all."

There was a young tame partridge in which St. John took delight and found recreation in many an hour from which he had turned from labor for rest. A young hunter anxiously seeking the great Apostle was surprised to find him in what seemed a frivolous employment. He doubted for a moment whether this could be he. John asked, "What is that thing which thou carriest in thy hand?" "A bow," replied the hunter. "Why then is it unstrung?" said John. "Because," was the answer, "were I to keep it always strung it would lose its spring and become useless." "Even so," replied the Apostle, "be not offended at my brief relaxation, which prevents my spirit from waxing faint."

We have already alluded to a tradition which is perhaps the best known of all, and universally accepted. In Ephesus, in extreme old age, too infirm to walk, St. John was carried as a little child to the church where he had so long preached. In feebleness his ministry had ended. The last sermon as such had been preached. He could no longer repeat the words of Christ he had heard on the mountain, and the sea-shore, and in the Temple. He could no longer tell of the wonders of which he was the only surviving witness. In Christians he saw the child-spirit, whether in old or young. In his old age he was a father to all such as none other could claim to be. His great theme —his only theme—was love. So his only words, again and again repeated as he faced the congregation were "Little children, love one another." And when asked why he repeated the same thing over and over, he told them it was the Lord's command, and if they obeyed it, that was enough.

Traditions alone tell of St. John's death. One claims that as his brother James was the first of the Apostles to suffer martyrdom, he was the last. Others tell of miraculous preservation from death;—that he was thrown into a caldron of boiling oil, and drank hemlock, without any effect upon him. Sometimes he is pictured as holding a cup from which a viper, representing poison, is departing without doing him any harm.

There is still another story concerning his death. On the last Lord's Day of his life, after the Holy Communion, he told some of his disciples to follow him with spades. Leading them to a place of burial, he bid them dig a grave into which he placed himself, and they buried him up to the neck. Then in obedience to his command they placed a cloth over his face and completed the burial. With weeping they turned away and reported what had been done. But his disciples felt that, not the grave, but the great church was the fitting place for his burial. So with solemn service they went to bring his body thither. But on reaching the grave they found it empty, as he and Peter had found the tomb of their Lord on Easter morning. Then they remembered the words of Christ to Peter concerning John, "If I will that he abide till I come, what is that to thee?"

But there is another tradition stranger still. People refused to believe that St. John was dead, even though he had been supposed to be, and had been buried. For centuries his grave was shown at Ephesus. Pilgrims visiting it beheld a wonderful sight. The ground above it rose and fell, as if the great Apostle were still breathing as he had done for one hundred years, while treading the earth which now guarded his immortal sleep.

Such stories seem strange to us when we remember the chapter he wrote to correct a mistake made by those who misunderstood his Master's word, and believed that he would not die until the Lord returned to the earth.

He probably escaped martyrdom which befell his fellow-Apostles. Dying, probably in Ephesus, we think of him as peacefully entering the mansions of which he had heard his Lord tell in far-off Jerusalem nearly seventy years before.

THE END