May, 1999

The Love of God
— by William Baxter —
(Early Disciples of Christ Minister and Poet, 1868)

We may contemplate the power of God as displayed in creating and sustaining this vast universe; behold it, in the fierce tornado, and the wild commotion of the ocean storm; see it reflected in the glare of the forked lightning, as it darts across the darkened heavens; hear it proclaimed by the muttering thunder, as if he were speaking in tones of wrath to a guilty world; and we shall find there is nothing in all this calculated to awaken any other feeling save that of terror and trembling awe.

When we remember that God fills all things–that he is everywhere present–that thought is calculated to arouse our fears, and rivet upon our minds the conviction that we can not go where he is not; we feel that God is above, beneath, around us; with us in the crowded city and the solitary desert; in the pursuit of pleasure, and the hurry of business; in the bustle of noonday, and the silence of midnight; in the hall of revelry, and the temple devoted to his service; with us at home and abroad, in and around our daily paths; and, with the minstrel king, we are led to exclaim: "Where shall I go from your Spirit, or where shall I flee from your presence. If I ascend into the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in hell, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me." And the boldest will tremble when he remembers that he is in the presence of the Ever-present One.

If we remember that God knows all things, from the thoughts of the loftiest intelligence that burns near his throne, to the instinct of the most insignificant creature that he has made; that he looks on us not as man looks, but that his piercing eye sees through all our disguises and concealments, penetrates the flimsy vail of hypocrisy, discerns the very thoughts and intents of the heart, we quail before the searching glance of the All-seeing One, to whom the secrets of all hearts are known, and who will disclose them before the assembled universe, for our approval or condemnation, in the judgment of the great day.

We now begin to perceive the meaning of the words "God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son," as we gaze on the sorrowful scene which transpired near the hour of midnight in that Garden’s shade of Gethsemene. Oh! it was a fearful and a gloomy hour. Angels, doubtless, were near, weeping, too, if angels ever wept, and gazing with intense interest upon the sight, and wondering when this scene of sorrow, this scene of love, would end. ... We now come to the grand climax of the love of our heavenly Father, in which all the rich fullness of his affection is displayed; and, if man be not convinced of his love by this crowning act, he must forever remain in utter and hopeless skepticism. This is heaven’s last argument; for, when God gives his Son to die, there is no greater gift in the treasury of the skies, to demonstrate his great, his exceeding love to man.