VII SUPPLEMENTING THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST I fill up on my part that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ.-Colossians i. 24. That is a very startling claim. There is an apparent audacity about it which almost takes away one's breath. "I fill up . . . .. that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ." But was there something lacking in Jesus which had to be supplied by Paul? Was there a defect in the sacrificial ministry of our Lord? Was there some fatal gap in the sacred securities of the cross? Was the green hill, outside the city wall, the site of an unfinished redemption? Was Paul needed to perfect the efficacy of atoning grace? This was surely not the meaning of the apostle's claim. More than any other man he continually gloried in the perfected wonders of the reconciling sacrifice of Christ. There was no deficit in Christ's account for Paul to pay. There was no adverse balance to be liquidated. Grace abounded in all the majestic fulness of an unfathomable sea. Love's redeeming work was done. Paul could add nothing to the cross. not a single crevice of emptiness left fill. Nothing in my hands I bring, There was for him to And yet, here stands the strange assertion: "I fill up on my part that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ." The apostle evidently brings some suffering of his own and adds it to the sufferings of his Lord. For it is possible for us to supplement the miracle we cannot perform. When the Savior has multiplied the loaves, we can distribute the bread. When the Savior has raised the dead, we can "loose him and let him go." The Savior is the fountain of life. It is ours to be life's ministers, to carry the water to the children of men. We cannot create the vital seed, but we can plant it, and tend it, and water it, and labor for an abundant harvest. We cannot work the original miracle, but we can supplement it. By no manner of possibility can we enrich the cross of Christ by any treasure of our own, but we can take up our own cross, and we can willingly yield our own strength to the glorifying of his cross, and to proclaiming its virtue throughout the world. We cannot make his sacrifices more effective, but by our sacrifices we can make the unshared sacrifice known to all men. And so our filling up of the sufferings of Christ is not done on the hill called Calvary. It is done on that long road which begins at the empty tomb, and which stretches through Jerusalem, and Samaria, and reaches the uttermost parts of the earth. In the Christian redemption our sufferings are not elemental nor fundamental. They are supplemental. Sacrificial disciples are needed to proclaim the unique sacrifice of our Lord. "I fill up on my part that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ." Now, wherever we touch the life of the Savior, we touch the spirit of sacrifice. His life is like the Alpine rope, with the red thread running through from end to end. Break it where you will, you find the crimson strand. In Christ's life there is an unfailing continuousness of sacrificial passion. Nothing is cheap. Nothing is done as a mere incident. Nothing is a bloodless fragment which has no relationship to the eternal purpose. In the life of Jesus everything is the gift of blood. Nothing seems to be born without travail. Every event bears the seal of holy sacrifice. We cannot break into the life anywhere without finding the scarlet thread. Let us try it here and there, and we shall see how, in every place, the sacred passion is revealed. Open the Word in this place. Here is the Lord beset by vulgar men. A callous crowd, wearing the trappings of religion, has dragged a fallen woman into his holy presence. "Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote upon the ground." And are we not looking at the crimson thread? That stooping down, that hiding of the face, is the symbol of suffering. It is the sign of exquisite spiritual refinement in contact with the brutal vulgarity of men. Turn to another part of the record. Wherever we find the Master in the presence of sorrow, his heart is always bleeding. It is impossible for him to gaze upon sorrow and remain unmoved. Familiarity never staled his sympathies. The customary happening never found in him an impenetrable cushion of indifference. If he saw a common funeral in the street, he was moved with compassion. If he was in the graveyard, he wept. It is the crimson thread. Break into the life at another point. One day his disciples came to him and introduced a number of young Greeks who desired the Lord's acquaintance. "Sir, we would see Jesus!" For one moment his soul is exalted in the vision-"The hour is come that the Son of man shall be glorified." And then we see the crimson strand again, and the suffering in which the redemption of Greek and Gentile is to be accomplished-"Now is my soul troubled." It is a glimpse of the afflictions of Christ. See him again in the presence of moral and spiritual indifference. Jesus Christ was never indifferent to indifference. "When he beheld the city he wept over it." It is the crimson thread. Be |