A Second Coming

The Professor replied:

'I will be candid, and confess that it is because the events referred to are of so extraordinary a nature that I am in this galley. I have hitherto seen no reason to doubt that everything which has happened in cosmogony is capable of a natural explanation. If I am to admit the miraculous, I find myself confronted by new conditions, on which account I ask this worker of wonders to show who and what he is.'

'He has already shown Himself to be more than man.'

'I grant that he has shown himself to be a remarkable person. But it does not by any means therefore follow that he is the Son of God, the Christ of tradition.'

Mr. Treadman broke into the discussion.

'He has shown Himself to me to be the Christ.'

'But how? that's what I don't understand. How?'

'Wilson, pray that one day He may show Himself to you before it is too late. Pray! pray! then you'll understand the how, wherefore, and why, though you'll still not be able to express them in the terms of a scientific formula.'

The Professor shrugged his shoulders.

'That is the sort of talk which has been responsible for the superstition which has been the world's greatest bane. The votaries of the multifarious varieties of hanky-panky have always shown a distaste for the cold, dry light of truth, which is all that science is.'

Jebb smiled.

'I am not so exigent as the Professor. I recognise the presence in our midst of a worker of wonders-a god among men. And although in that latter phrase some may only see a poetic license, I am disposed to be content. For I represent a too obvious fact-the fact that one portion of the world is the victim of the other part's injustice. As I came here to-night I passed through men and women, ragged, tattered, and torn, smirched with all manner of uncleanliness, who were hastening towards this house as if towards the millennium. Remembering how often that quest had been a dream, I asked myself if it were possible that at last it gleamed on the horizon. As I put to myself the question, my heart leaped up into my mouth. For it was borne in upon me, as a thing not to be denied, that it might be that, in the best of all possible senses, the Day of the Lord has arrived- the Great Day of the Lord.'

'It has arrived, Jebb, be sure of it!'

'I think-I say it with all due deference-that it will not be our fault if it has not, in the sense in which I use the phrase. I am told that we have Christ again among us. On that pronouncement I pass no opinion. I stand simply for those that suffer. I do know that we are in actual touch with one who has given proofs of his capacity to alleviate pain and make glad the sorrowful. Experience has shown that by nothing less than a miracle can the submerged millions be raised out of the depths. Here is a doer of miracles. Already he has shown that a cry of anguish gains access to the heart, and impels him to a removal of the cause. Here is a great healer, the physician the world is so much in want of. Would it not be well for us, sinking all controversial differences, to join hands in approaching him, and in showing him, with all humility, the wounds which gape widest, and the souls which are enduring most, doing this in the trust that the sight of so much affliction will quicken his sympathies, and move him to right the wrong, and to make the rough ways smooth? How he will do it I cannot say. But he who can raise a cancerous corpse from an operating table, and endue it with life and health upon the instant, can do that and more. To such an one all things are possible. I ask you to consider whether it will not be well that we should discuss the best and most effective manner in which, in the morning, this matter can be laid before him who has come among us.'

Scarcely had Mr. Jebb ceased to speak than there rose a huge man, with matted beard, untidy hair, eager eyes, and a voice which seemed to shake the room. This was the socialist, Henry Walters. He spoke with tumultuous haste, as if it was all he could do to keep up with the words which came rushing along his tongue.

'I say, Yes! if that's the Christ you're talking about, I'm for him. If this disturber of the peace is a creature with red blood in his veins, count me on his side. For he'll be a disturber of the peace with a vengeance. If at last Heaven has given us someone who is prepared to deal, not with abstractions, but with facts, then I cry: "Hallelujah for the King of Kings!" For it's more important that our rookeries should be made decent dwelling-places than that all the Churches should plump for the Thirty-nine Articles. The prospect of a practical Christ almost turns my brain. Religion is a synonym for contradiction in theory and practice, but a Christ who is a live man, and not a decoration for an altarpiece, will be likely to have clear notions on the problems which are beyond our finding out, and to care little for singing bad verses about the golden sea. We want a Saviour more than the handful of Jews did, who at least had breathing space in the 11,000 miles of open country, with a respectable climate, which you call Palestine. But he must be a Saviour that is a Saviour; not an utterer of dark sayings which are made darker by being interpreted, but a doer of deeds. Let him purify the moral and physical atmosphere of a single London alley, and he'll not want for followers. Let him assure the London dockers of a decent return for honest labour, and he'll write his name for all time on their hearts. Let him put an end to sweating, and explain to the wicked mighty that by right their seats should be a little lower down, and he'll have all that's worth having in the world upon his side. You talk about a Saviour of the poor. If such an one has come at last, the face of this country will be transformed in a fashion which will surprise some of you who live on the poor. There'll be no need of a second crucifixion, or for more tittle-tattle about dying for sinners. Let him live for them. He has but to choose to conquer, to will to extend his empire, eternally, from pole to pole. And since these are my sentiments I need not enlarge on the zest with which I shall join in the discussion suggested by Mr. Jebb as to the most irresistible method of laying before him who has come among us the plain fact that this chaos called a city is but a huge charnel-house of human misery.'

When Mr. Walters sat down the Rev. Martin Philipps rose:

'I have listened in silence to the remarks which we have just heard because I felt that this was pre-eminently an occasion on which every man, conscious of his own responsibility, was entitled to an uninterrupted exposition of his views, however abhorrent those views might be to some of us. I need not tell you how both the tone and spirit of those to which we have just been listening are contrary to every sense and fibre of my being. Mr. Jebb and the last speaker seem only to see the secular side of the subject which is before us. This is the more surprising as it has no secular side. If Christ has come, it is as a Divinity, not as an adherent of this or that political or social school, but as an intermediary between heaven and earth. I cannot express to you the horror with which I regard the notion that the purport of His presence here can be to administer to the material wants of men. To suppose so is indeed to mock God. We as Christians know better. It is our blessed privilege to be aware that it is not our bodies which He seeks, but our souls. Our body is but the envelope which contains the soul, and from which one day it emerges, like the chrysalis from the cocoon. The one endures but for a few years, the other through all eternity.

'I would not inflict on you these platitudes were it not necessary, after the remarks which we have heard, for us, as Christians to make our position plain. If Christ has come again, it is in infinite love, to make a further effort to save us from the consequences of our own sin, to complete the work of His atonement, and to seek once more to gather us within the safety of His fold.

'I had never thought that under any possible circumstances I should be constrained to ask myself the question, Has Christ come again? Strange human blindness! I had always supposed that, as a believer in Christ, and Him crucified, and as a preacher, I should never have the slightest doubt as to whether or not He had returned to earth. I see now with clearer eyes; I perceive my own poor human frailty; I realise more clearly the nature of the puzzle which must have presented itself to the Jews of old. I use the word "puzzle" because it seems to define the situation more accurately than any other which occurs to me. Looking back across the long tale of the years, it is difficult for us to properly apprehend the full bearing of the fact that Christ, the Son of God, was once an ordinary man, in manners, habits, and appearance exactly like ourselves. We say glibly: "He was made man," but how many of us stop to realise what, in their entirety, those words mean! When I first heard that someone was in London who, it was rumoured, was the Lord Jesus, my feeling was one of shock, horror, amazement, to think that anyone could be guilty of so blasphemous a travesty. If you consider, probably the same sensation was felt by Jews who were told that the Messiah, to whose advent their whole history pointed, was in their midst. When they were shown an ordinary man, who to their eyes looked exactly like his fellows-a person of absolutely no account whatever-their feeling was one of deep disgust, derision, scorn, which presently became fanatical rage. Exactly what they were looking for, more or less vaguely (for the promise was of old, and the performance long delayed), they scarcely knew themselves. But it was not this. Who is this man? What is his name? Where does he come from? What right has he to hold himself up as different from us? These were questions which they asked. When the answers came their rage grew more, until the sequel was the hill of Calvary.

'A similar problem confronts us to-day in London. We believe in Christ, although we never saw Him. I sometimes think that, if we had seen Him, we might not have believed. God grant that I am wrong! For nearly nineteen hundred years we have watched and waited for His Second Coming. The time has been long; the disappointments have been many, until at last there has grown up in the midst of some a sort of dull wonder as to whether He will ever come again at all. "How long?" many of us have cried-"O Lord, how long?" Suddenly our question receives an answer of a sort. We are told: "No longer-now. The great day of the Lord is already here. Christ has come again." When in our bewilderment we ask, "Where is He? What is He like? Whence has He come, and how? Why wholly unannounced, in such guise and fashion?" we receive the same answer as did the Jews of old.

'This is a grave matter which we have met to discuss-so grave that I hardly dare to speak of it; but this I will venture to say: I know that my Redeemer liveth; but whether I should know Him, as He should be known, if I met Him face to face, very man of very man, here upon earth, I cannot certainly say. I entreat God to forgive me in that I am compelled, to my shame, to make such a confession; and I believe that He will forgive me, for He knows, as none else can, how strange a thing is the heart of man. He who is with us in this house tonight has been spoken of as a worker of wonders. That I myself know he is, and of wonders which are other than material. When yesterday I stood before him, I was abashed. The longer I stayed, the more my sense of self-abasement grew. I felt as if I, a thing of impurity, had been brought into sudden, unexpected contact with one who was wholly pure. I was ashamed. I am conscious that there is a presence in this house which, though intangible, is not to be denied. Whether or not the physical form and shape of our Lord is in the room above us, He is present in our midst; and I confidently hope, when I have sought guidance from God in prayer-as I trust that we presently shall all do-to obtain light from the Fountain of all light which shall make clear to me the way.'

The Rev. Martin Philipps was succeeded by Mr. John Anthony Gibbs. Mr. Gibbs was a short, portly person, with a manner which suggested, probably in spite of himself, a combination of the pedagogue with the man of business.

'I believe that I am entitled to say that I represent certain religious bodies in the present House of Commons, and while endorsing what the last speaker has said, I would add to his remarks one or two of my own. I apprehend that it is generally allowed that we have among us a remarkable man. I understand that he is with us to-night beneath this very roof. The spirit of the age is inclined towards incredulity, but I for one am disposed to be convinced that he is not as others are. Admitting the bare possibility of his being more than man, even though he be less than God, I confidently affirm that it is to the Churches first of all that the question is of primary importance. I would suggest that representations be at once made to the different Churches.'

'Including the Roman Catholic?'

The question came from Henry Walters.

'No, sir; not to the Roman Catholic hierarchy; I was speaking of the Christian Churches only.'

'And the Roman Catholic is not one of them?'

'Most emphatically not, as it is within the bounds of possibility that it will speedily and finally learn. I speak for the Churches of Protestant Christendom only.'

'That is very good of you.'

'And I repeat that I would suggest that representations should be made to those that are in authority, and that meetings be called; a first to be attended by the clergy only, and a second by both the clergy and laity, at which this great question should be properly and adequately discussed.'

'And what's to happen in the meantime?'

'Sir, I was not addressing you.'

'But I was addressing you. We all know what religious meetings are like, especially when they are attended by representatives of Protestant Christendom only. While they are making up their minds about the differences between Tweedledum and Tweedledee, is Christ, humbly quiescent, to stand awaiting their decision?'

'Sir, your language is repulsive. I am only addressing myself to those persons present who are proud to call themselves Christians. And them I am asking to consider whether it is not in the highest degree advisable that we should endeavour to obtain at the earliest possible moment the opinion of our bishops and clergy on this question of the most supreme importance.'

'Hear, hear! And when we've got them, we shall know how to appreciate them at their proper value. The Lord deliver us from our bishops and clergy!'

After Mr. Gibbs had resumed his seat there ensued an interval, during which no one evinced an inclination to continue the discussion. Possibly Mr. Walters's interruptions had not inspired anyone with a desire to incur his criticism. His voice and manner were alike obstreperous. There were those present who knew from experience that it was extremely difficult to shout him down.

When some moments had passed without the silence being broken, Mr. Treadman leaned across the table towards where sat that singular personality whose name is a synonym for the Salvation Army, and who has credited himself with brevet rank as 'General' Robins.

'General, is there nothing which you wish to say to us? Surely this is not a subject on which you would desire to have your voice unheard?'

The 'General' was sitting right back in his chair. He was an old man. The suggestion of age was accentuated by his attitude. His back was bowed, his head hung forward on his chest, his hands lay on his knees, as if the arms to which they were attached were limp and weary. He did not seem to be aware that he was being addressed, so that Mr. Treadman had to repeat his question. When it was put a second time he glanced up with a start, as if he had been brought back with a shock from the place of shadows in which his thoughts had been straying.

'I was thinking,' he replied.

'Of what? Will you not allow us to hear our thoughts on a subject whose magnitude bulks larger with each word we utter?'

The old man was silent, as if he were considering. Then he said, without altering his position:

'I was thinking that I knew more when I was young than I do now that I am old. All my life I have been sure-till now. Now, the first time that assurance is really needed, it is gone, and has left me troubled. God help us all!'

'Explain yourself, General.'

'That's another part of the trouble, that I'm pretty nearly afraid to explain. All the days of my life I've been crying: "Take courage! Put doubt behind you!" And now, when courage is what I most am wanting, it's fled; only doubt remains.'

'But, General, you of all others have no cause for doubt; and you've proved your courage on a hundred fields. You've not only fought the good fight yourself, you have shown others how to fight it too.'

'That's it-have I? As Mr. Philipps said, to-night there's a Presence in the air, I felt It as I came up the street, as I entered this house, and more and more as I've been seated in this room. And in that Presence I have grown afraid, fearful lest in all that I have done I have done wrong. I confess- because It knows-that I have had doubts as to the propriety of my proceedings from the first. Like Saul, I seem to have been smitten with sudden blindness in order that I may see at last. I see that what Christ wants is not what I have given Him. I understood man's nature, but refused to understand His. I realised that there is nothing like sensationalism to attract a certain sort of men and women; I declined to realise that it does not attract Christ. Confident assertion pleases the mob, when it's in a certain humour, but not Him. Bands, uniforms, newspapers, catchwords-all the machinery of advertisement I have employed; – but He does not advertise. Worst of all, I've taught from a thousand platforms that a man may be a notorious sinner one minute and a child of Christ the next. I know that is not so.'

The old man stood up, his quavering tones rising in a shrill crescendo.

'You ask me to tell you what I think. I think that we are about to stand before the judgment-seat of God as doomed men. We have been like the Scribes and Pharisees, saying, We know Christ, and are therefore not as others, when all the time our knowledge has been hurrying us not to but from Him. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and have used that knowledge for my own ends. Because it seemed to me that His methods were ineffective, I have said, Not His will, but mine be done. I have taught Him, not as He would be taught, but as it has suited me to teach Him. I have lied of Him and to Him, and have taught a great multitude to lie also. I have made of Him a mockery in the eyes of men, dragged Him through the gutter, flaunted Him from the hoardings, used Him as a street show, and as a mountebank in the houses which I have called not His, but mine. I have blasphemed His Name by using it as a meaningless catch-phrase in the foolish mouths of men and women seeking for a new sensation, or for self-display. I have done all these things and many more. I am an old man. What time have I for atonement? For I know now that what Christ wants is a man's life, not merely a part of it-the beginning, the middle, or the end. You cannot win him with a phrase in a moment of emotion. You have gradually, persistently, quietly, to mould yourself in His image. Nothing else will serve. For that, for me, the time is past. I cannot undo what I have done, nor can I begin again. It is too late.

'You ask me what I think. I think if Christ has come again-I fear He has, for strange things have happened to me since I entered the Presence that is in this room-that we had better flee, though where, I do not know; for wherever we go we shall take Him with us. I, for one, dare not meet Him face to face. I envy him his courage that dare, though he will have to be made of different stuff from any of us if it is to avail him anything. Be assured of this, that for us the Second Coming will not be a joyful advent. It will mean, at best, the pricking of the bubbles we have so long and so laboriously been blowing. We shall be made to know ourselves as He knows us. There will be the beginning of the end. What form that end will take I dare not endeavour to foresee. God help us all!'

There was a curious quality in the silence that ensued when the 'General' ceased, until Mr. Treadman sprang to his feet.

'I protest, with all the strength that is in me, against the doctrine which we have just heard! It is abominable-a thing of horror- contrary to all that we know of God's love and His infinite mercy! I know that it is false!'

'Oh, man! man! it's few things we haven't known, you and I-except ourselves. And that knowledge is coming to us too soon. Woeful will be the day!'

'I cannot but think that the sudden rush of exciting events has turned our honoured friend's brain.'

'It has, towards the light; so that I can see the outer darkness which lies beyond.'

'General, I cannot find language with which to express the pain I feel at the tendency which I perceive in your attitude to turn your back on all the teachings of your life.'

'Your sentence is involved-your sentences sometimes are; but your meaning's tolerably clear. I'm sorry too.'

'Do you mean to deny that he who repents finds God-you who have been vehement in the cause of instant conversion.'

'To my shame you say it.'

'Your shame! Have you forgotten that there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety-nine just persons? You out-Herod Calvin in his blackest moods.'

'I'll not dispute with you. It's but words, words. I only hope that by repentance He means what you do. But I greatly fear.'

'I am sure.'

'Oh, man, how often we have been sure-we two!'

'I am sure still. My friends, the General is nearer to Christ than he thinks, and Christ is nearer to him. We shall do no harm, any of us, by expressing our consciousness of sin, though at such a time as this I cannot but think that such an expression may go too far. We who are here have all of us laboured in our several ways in the Lord's vineyard. To suggest that the fruit of our endeavours has been all that it might have been would be presumption. We are but men. The best that men can do is faulty. But we have done our best, each according to his or her light. And having done that best, we are entitled to wait with a glad confidence the inspection of the Master. To suppose that He will require from us what He knows it has not been in our power to give or to do-I thank God that there is nothing in Scripture or out of it to cause any one to imagine that He is so relentless a taskmaster. And I-I have enjoyed the glad and glorious privilege of standing in His very presence. I have dared to speak to Him, to look Him in the face. I give you my personal assurance that I have not suffered for my daring, but have been filled instead with a great joy, and with an infinite content. No, General; no, my friends; the Lord has not come to us in anger, but in peace-a man like unto ourselves, knowing our infirmities, to wipe the tears out of our eyes. Do not, I beseech you, look upon Him for a moment as the dreadful being the General has depicted. The General himself, when his black mood has passed, and he finds himself indeed face to face with his Master, will be the first to perceive how contrary to truth that picture is. And in that moment he will know, once and forever, how very certain it is that the Second Coming of our Lord and Saviour is to us, His children, an occasion of great joy.'