Three comrades of Jesus

ALBERT DURRANT WATSON

VICTORIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
TORONTO, ONTARIO

SOURCE:

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THREE COMRADES OF JESUS

Comrades
of Jesus

BY

ALBERT D. WATSON

THE RYERSON PRESS

TORONTO

1919

BS

\A/3

Cop.l

i \

APR 2 8 1350

Copyright, Canada, 1919, by

ALBERT D. WATSON

CONTENTS

PETER

Page

On the Shore of Lake Galilee 1 1

The Call of the Christ - 15

The School of Jesus 19

The Shadow of Death - 23

The Hall of Caiaphas 27

The Call of the Ages 31
The Cloud

Tongues of Fire 37

The Cross - - 39

JAMES

The City and the Sea 45

The First Christian Committee 47

Jesus Forsaken - 49

The Great Commission 5 1

The Tarsan 55

James the Martyr - 57

JOHN

Companion of the Sea 6 1

In the Home of John 65

Patmos 69

Love One Another - - - 71

PETER

On the Shore of
Lake Galilee

ON the northern shore of Lake Galilee, west
of that point where the upper Jordan
flows with rapid course into the little sea, a
firm of fishers plied their trade. The lake
abounded in fish, the great city of Capernaum
was a convenient market, and at least two of
the partners lived there.

The firm consisted of Zebedee, his sons,
James and John, Simon, and his brother
Andrew. Like all workers on the waters,
these were elemental natures. The temper of
Zebedee's sons was so much like the lightning
that they were sometimes called " The Sons
of Thunder.'' Simon was impulsive in speech
and action, but his heart was kind. He
conquered his fitful temper and became as
stable as a rock, hence he was afterwards
called " Peter."

One afternoon when the shadows of the
declining sun were beginning to slant across
the blue Galilean waters, these men were
working at their nets. Only yesterday they
had met the young Prophet of Nazareth, and
heard Him say with great assurance :

" The kingdom of heaven is at hand."

The white cords of the nets were handled
almost unconsciously, for the hope of Israel
was strong in their hearts. Could it be that

Three Comrades
of Jesus

this young Teacher was really the Desire of
the nations? A great joy had birth in their
souls as they, in eager tones, repeated the
words of the young Prophet.

Yonder, walking on the shore, was One
whose grace and majesty of motion were not
to be mistaken. It was the famous young
Teacher. He approached the brothers, Simon
and Andrew, and stood with an easy poise
that suggested both the agility of youth and
the strength of vigorous manhood. When He
spoke, the cadence of His voice was as the
sound of far-off music falling with rare
sweetness on the ear.

" Be my disciples, and you shall catch men."
The sound of His voice was sweet, but the
power of His presence was irresistible. His
words came to the hearer with that conviction
which was afterwards to conquer the world.
There seemed only one thing to be done. It
followed as the morning follows the night.
The brothers left their nets on the shore, and
went with the Master.

They came to where Zebedee's sons were
mending their nets. Again the lofty call : " Be
my disciples," and the sons of thunder became
fishers of men.

Joy billows beat over Simon's soul, and a
great wonder stirred his heart. He felt that
he was walking on air as he followed this
young Rabbi with the heavenly voice, whose
lips spoke eternal things, and whose eyes 12

On the Shore of
Lake Galilee

made one feel that God was looking through
them, and nothing was hidden from His gaze.
The great, far splendors of the sun's fare
well, all the glories of expiring day, the
azure, the emerald, the pale rose deepening
to crimson over the fields of Galilee, were a
fitting symbol of the new glory that now
irradiated his soul. Thus Simon became a
disciple of the Nazarene.

13

The Call of
the Christ

SIMON and his comrades did not yet
altogether cease to mend their nets and to
drag them in the little sea. They began at
once, however, to mend their tempers. Before
them, daily, was a marvel of inspiration and
self-control, and many an evening hour was
spent with Him on the shore, or in the fields,
and sometimes they sailed together on the
lake. Once they all went to a wedding in a
distant village, and later, to Passover in
Jerusalem, ninety miles away.

Love found root in the soil of wonder and
admiration as they listened to His words or
saw His works, for He spake as no other
could, with effects on soul and body that
astonished all.

A new light began to dawn in the soul of
Simon. The drudgery of the fisher-life was
forgotten in the joy of a new inspiration.
He saw everything, as yet, in the light of his
Jewish training, but he began to discern more
clearly the rare beauty of that splendid man
hood which walked and talked with him
daily, in real, bodily form.

One night in Jerusalem, when a ruler of
the Jews came for an interview, Jesus told
the learned Sanhedrist of the birth from
above. Simon had heard the lesson, and
glimpses of its meaning came to him from
15 his own experience. Something was calling

Three Comrades
of Jesus

to him from within, urging him to lead a
better life. A great peace began to make him
strong, and keep him free, as he, more and
more fully, determined to obey that voice.

When he went back to the nets, however,
the petty annoyances of the day, awkward
situations in business, the stupidity of some
who worked with him as hirelings — almost
any disturbance, indeed, was sufficient to drive
the peace out of his soul.

One day, after many months of companion
ship with Jesus, Simon and his friends
went to hear the Teacher address a great
multitude of people who had come together,
for His fame had spread throughout Galilee.
So many were present, it was necessary that
He should speak to them from the top of a hill,
that all might both see and hear. His words
of wisdom and tenderness were freighted
with a divine magnetism as He spoke of the
poor, the lowly, the outcast, with a sympathy
quite impossible to withstand. His utterances
needed no oaths for bulwarks. His peace
was safe without a sword to guard it. The
light He kindled could never more fade in the
hearts of the fishermen.

Simon knew that on this occasion the
Teacher would call twelve whom He would
train to carry on the work of the kingdom
of which He told them. Who would these
twelve be? Who had the gifts needed to
perform so great a function? Was he — jj>

The Call of
the Christ

Simon the fisher — to be a herald of the King?
Sometimes he hoped so, but when he remem
bered his hasty temper and the disorders of
his wayward life, he had misgivings.

Hark! The Master is about to call the
Twelve. Whom will He name first? There
is a great silence as the clear, sonorous voice
rings out the names :

" Simon! Andrei! James! John!"

17

The School
of Jesus

VV7HEN alone, Simon sometimes doubted
W the wisdom of his new course of life.
Was it wise to go about the country with a
preacher who had no charge, no stipend, and
no prestige, not even the sanction of the
elders? Lately, too, he had been more and
more neglecting his business, and leaving the
nets to the care of others. His conscience
was not always easy on this matter. Once
he talked it over with the others, who, like
himself, had given up their old vocations, and
were devoting their whole time to the new
cause. As a result of this conference, they
determined to ask the Master plainly about
it. Simon, as spokesman, enquired of Jesus
whether or not their fidelity was likely to
have a suitable reward.

"Lo, we have left all and followed Thee.
What shall we have, therefore?"

The answer was somewhat like this:
" Whosoever shall forsake any lesser interest
for the sake of the Great Kingdom, shall
have all good things more truly his, and a
deeper, intenser life forever."

They probably did not know exactly what
He meant, but they felt glad, and remained
faithful.

One day the Master asked: "Whom do
19 men sav that I am?"

Three Comrades
of Jesus

The answer was not assuring. Some, they
said, believed Him to be a great prophet,
such as Elijah or Jeremiah, but not the Desire
of the nations, not the Emancipator of Israel.

Disappointing as this answer seemed, there
was a question even more vital, which now
he quickly asked :

"Whom say ye that I am?"

If only the Twelve themselves understood,
if they saw the great purpose and quality of
His life and mission, all would see it some
day, and the kingdom of the unselfish would
be secure. Everything depended upon the
answer. What should it be? Again Simon
speaks for all, in his bold, incisive way:

"Thou art the Christ, the son of the living
God." Then came words at which they
wondered, and none more than t Simon, for
he remembered with remorse many a wrong
for which he was responsible. Said the
Master :

" Happy art thou, Simon, man hath not
told thee this, but God, and I perceive that
thou shalt have power to open the kingdom
of heaven to the souls of men."

But one day the Master said : " The chief
priests are sure to slay me." This was a
severe blow to the hopes, and a sad thought
to the hearts of the Twelve. Simon responded
with eager, impatient protest : " Be it far from
thee, Lord." But the Master answered and

The School
of Jesus

said: "Get thee behind me, Satan; thou dost
not speak God's mind, but thine own."

Patiently, with much discourse, the Master
sought to make clear to Simon what He
meant by the kingdom, for they still thought
of Him as the Messiah who was to rule the
world from Mount Zion, while He thought of
the kingdom as being supreme harmony in
every soul under the sway of divine love.

That the Messiah was to die as a criminal
upon a Roman cross, Simon could not believe.
Reverently, the Master had named him a
discloser of heaven to men, then, because he
protested that Jesus should not die as a
criminal, he was denounced as an adversary.
At least, Simon so understood the matter.
Hopes, alternately broken and revived, brought
amazement and confusion to the soul of
this tempest-tossed disciple and apostle. The
lessons he was learning in the school of
Jesus were increasingly difficult. What did
the Master mean? Simon could not discover.
All was dark to this man of facts and fish
nets.

The Shadow
of Death

wonderful Teacher ceased not trying
••• to reveal to Simon the true nature of the
kingdom, knowing, as He did, that until a
man sees the great vision, it is impossible for
him to live the great life. Ever He kept on
trying to make the matter clear.

''' The kings of the earth exercise authority,
but let your great ones serve. I am among
you as one that serveth."

Jerusalem began now to be the centre of
interest for Simon and his Master. They
were there at the harvest home festival. They
went again in the winter to the Feast of the
Dedication. The Prophet of Nazareth visited
the Temple daily. He showed His power and
wisdom in every word and in many kindly
acts. He rebuked the money-changers, with
stood the Sadducees and Herodians, and
confounded the Pharisees and Scribes. He
entered the capital of David in triumph, as
foretold of the Christ, but in all these things
there was the undertone of a great oncoming
sorrow.

Passover was taken earlier than usual, for
He said : " I must take the Passover with my
disciples before I suffer." So they gathered
on Thursday night in a room belonging to
a friend. The Master girded Himself with
23 a towel, and washed their feet by way of

Three Comrades
of Jesus

preparation. Again Simon protested, again he
was overborne, and the supper proceeded.

After supper Jesus said :

" Ye all shall be offended because of me
this night."

Simon responded : " Though all should be
offended yet will not I."

Jesus answered : " Before the cock-crowing
thou shalt deny that thou knowest me."

This offended Peter once more, but the
power of the Master's wonderful presence and
the music of His tones soothed and mollified
the proud apostle, for awe and solemn grace
were in that heavenly voice, and a deep
mystery of meaning was in His words.

After a tender and simple memorial, and
a solemn prayer, they sang a hymn, and went
out of the city to the Mount of Olives, and
there, on the mountain slope, in the darkness
of the garden, beneath the whispering olives
and the quiet stars, Jesus knelt alone and
prayed. While He endured the foreshadowed
agony of the cross even unto sweat of blood,
the disciples, wearied with many watches, fell
asleep.

When the Master returned, refreshed and
inspired, He said :

" Only one hour, and ye slept ! Arise. Let
us go. The betrayer is at hand."

It was even so. Simon's quick ear caught
the echoing sounds of voices, footsteps and
the clanking of swords and other weapons. 24

The Shadow
of Death

The gleam of lights was seen and soon the
servants of the Sanhedrin emerged from the
darkness, followed by the rabble, all led on
by — the Apostle Judas! The traitor then
stepped up to Jesus, and kissed Him.

From some source, unknown to us, and
probably also unknown to Jesus, Simon,
impressed by the many intimations of danger
to the person of his Master, had procured a
sword, and now held it ready for use. Awed
by the kingly bearing of the Prophet, the
column at first fell back hesitant. When they
rallied and came on, Simon struck the nearest
man with a sword, severely wounding him.
The gleam of the torch fell on Simon's face
even as his sword fell. At the same moment,
a woman, unobserved, looked keenly where
the torch's light fell. She was a kinswoman
of the stricken man.

And now, once more — alas, how many
times was this ? — Jesus rebuked Simon. " Put
up thy sword." He asked the forbearance
of the mob on behalf of the apostle, and was
arrested before further words were possible.

The throng now returned along the path
through the valley, up the temple hill to
where the gleaming lights had so recently
flung their lurid glare into the faces that
drifted and surged through the narrow streets
on that evening before the great feast.

What more was there to do? He, whom
25_ Simon had so recently named the Christ, was

Three Comrades
of Jesus

now likely to die upon the cross. What was
the use of trying to follow a self-effacing
King? Simon fell far behind. Jesus seemed
such an impossible person to him. Painful,
sickening despair mingled in his soul with
bitter memories and rebellious feelings, among
which sorrow, though it had a real place, was
now, amid other more vivid emotions, scarcely
recognizable.

Simon had loved and obeyed Jesus as far
as he could, but he had never understood
Him. Now, it seemed that the final word
of Jesus to His friend was to be — a con
demnation! Was the only one who raised
a weapon in defence of Jesus to be denounced
for it? Rebuke and correction seemed to have
been always his portion. Was it fair? Thus
the bitter current of resentment made an ever-
deepening channel in his soul, and anger filled
his spirit.

The kindly remonstrances of the Master
had been exaggerated into rebuke, and rebuke
into denunciation, till at last Simon almost
wished to regard himself as disowned, that
he might make the sum of his injuries more
complete. Such are the dangers of a self-
centred life.

In the outer court of the High Priest's
house stood Simon, brooding over his wrongs,
while the fire crackled on the hearth, and the
people of the night moved restlessly in its
fitful glare. 26

The Hall
of Caiaphas

A SINGLE hour is sometimes more signifi
cant than the burden of ages. It was
so with Simon in the hall of Caiaphas.

Idle groups gathered around the fire and
spoke in awed whispers, others with ribald
jests provoked unseemly laughter. Simon
kept his moody self aloof. Cut off from all
hope of helpfulness to Jesus, he felt, though
absurdly and unjustly, that even his wish to
help would be spurned. Yet his hungry heart
would not consent to leave the place, though
his pride dictated such a course. To whom
should he go? For many months he had
associated all his dreams for the future with
the aspirations of yonder prisoner, and now
that his barque was adrift there seemed to be
no other course but to let it drive whitherso
ever the fitful winds might blow. Resentment
and self-pity brought back the old temper, and
even the rude speech of the fish-market became
easy to him.

Dawn's increasing light brought recognition.
The maid who had seen Simon's face in the
lurid glare of the torchlight knew him and
charged him with being a disciple of Jesus.
He denied it. When the charge was reiterated
he swore angrily and with tempestuous bravado
that he did not even know the man. The
tragedy of the situation lay in the fact that,
27 in his present state of mind, he was not a

Three Comrades
of Jesus

disciple. He had always failed to understand
Jesus, hence the oath was lamentably true. He
did not know the man.

His frightful renunciation was heard in the
next room where Jesus was. When Simon
came to himself it occurred to him that Jesus
must have heard his words, and turning his
face towards the inner room, he caught the
glance of the Master's eye, which revealed a
tender sympathy mingled with a deep sorrow.
The soldiers had crowned Him with a wreath
of thorns, and blood was seen on His fore
head, but the scornful emblem seemed to
increase the charm of His majesty and
heighten the effect of that gaze, so full of love
and yearning for the rebellious disciple.

Into Simon's soul rushed a flood of tender
memories, new visions of old truths, and
kindly meanings of words, till now misunder
stood. All the power of that great soul that
had moved thousands to high impulse, and had
borne peace and joy to so many an outcast,
came like a storm of emotion that broke the
heart of Simon and melted him to tears.
The people of the palace saw now that his
sympathies were with the prisoner, but of this
Simon was glad, though a few moments
earlier he had resented it. Remorse had
banished self-pity from his heart, replacing it
with the courage of a hero.

He recalled the words : " I have prayed for
thee," and had faith in the Master's prayer, 28

The Hall
of Caiaphas

but how terrible if the last words his great
Friend should ever hear from his lips should
be that fearful imprecation and traitorous
denial! He forgot the hope of Israel, forgot
the failure of Jesus to be his particular ideal
of the Messiah. The requirements of his
creed were relinquished in the presence of a
deeper and more elemental power — a great
personal love. Simon felt, for the first time,
that the splendors of a character such as that
of Jesus were worthy of the toils and trials
of a lifetime.

The soul of the apostle was already grow
ing stronger. He had the assurance that
henceforth he should be able to strengthen his
brethren as the Master had commanded. He
would henceforth be Peter, the man of rock,
a tireless apostle, to proclaim whatever of
truth was in his soul. He would, at least, tell
of the beauty and grace of the Perfect Man.
It was the nearest approach to a correct
appreciation of the Gospel of Christ that he
had ever had.

Blackness of darkness had blotted from his
soul the last gleam of light, but now that
his spirit was contrite there was hope that he
might yet understand the message and mission
of Jesus.

The Call of
the Ages

SIMON had, almost unconsciously, regarded
Jesus as being one who needed the
direction of a man of affairs. He thought
Him too idealistic in His methods. The
present disaster might have been averted, he
thought, had it not been for the visionary
idea that force would not be needed. He
was ever ready to give advice and direction,
somewhat as Richelieu guided King Louis in
later days, but he had no adequate knowledge
of the might of the Tiberian legions, who, in
case of an insurrection, would have laid
Jerusalem in ashes as ruthlessly as Titus did
forty years later. Simon had probably trusted
in supernatural agencies that never appeared.

Two days of agony and darkness dragged
on their dreary hours. Every moment of the
time was full of tragedy to the soul of Simon,
but at length, when the Sabbath was past, the
risen Master re-established the confidence of
His apostles. A mystical light of gladness
and power clothed Jesus with an atmosphere
of wonder, and awed the disciples into an
attitude of worship. His word of peace
brought comfort to their hearts. The few
brief sentences He uttered now had more
effect than the discourses of many months.
Simon began to learn the lesson of humility,
without which discipleship is impossible.

The apostles saw Jesus at rare intervals,
and then only for a few moments. They
began to find the time tedious, so they

Three Comrades
of Jesus

resolved to go back to their nets. But when
the forward call of the ages is sounding in
a soul, it cannot go back.

One night they tried their nets in Galilee.
The air was quiet and the waters still. The
slow hours dragged wearily, for they caught
no fish. They sat patiently in the boats and
watched their nets till the waning moon sank
low in the west, trailing its light in a long,
white stream, stretching far away to the
shores of Magdala. The first faint fringes of
the dawn appeared in the east, and the dark
shores of the lake slowly emerged from
impenetrable night. Spectral, in the grey
dawn, a human figure was seen upon the
shore. At first no one recognized it, but
John's eyes, keen with youth and clear with
love, perceived it to be that of Jesus.

When all were on shore, the Master showed
them that they must leave their nets and take
up the permanent work of the apostolate. To
Peter He put the question : " Simon, do you
love me?" and when Peter assured and
reassured the Master of his unwavering
attachment, Jesus commanded him to feed His
flock. He was, henceforth, to fish for men.

The old disposition to manage affairs com
prehensively, reappeared for a moment when
Simon asked what John should do, to which
Jesus gave the reply :

"What is that to thee? Follow thou me."
And Peter followed even unto death. 32

The Cloud

IN the upper room, on the sea shore, among
the hills of Galilee, and on the mountain
height, Jesus appeared at intervals and com
missioned the apostles to extend the work He
had begun till its influence of love and light
should circle the world. They were to be the
bearers of the Good News, the exponents of
the new thought of God, the wings and voice
of the message of Jesus in every land.

Peter saw the Master many times during
this period and, with his fellow-apostles,
heard the command of Jesus. These fugitive
interviews were brief, but the theme of
every discourse was the work which He now
intrusted to His disciples, for though the
apostles were to give their time exclusively
to the extension of the cause, the other
disciples were also to give their energies, as
far as possible, to the same task.

They were promised that before the world-
evangel began they should receive such a
flood of power as would make the work a
delight and a passion. To this end they were
to await, at an appointed place in the city, the
fulfilment of the promise which Jesus had
given.

After forty days, Peter and other disciples
stood with Jesus on the Mount of Olives and
heard the last words of the Master before He
finally disappeared from their mortal sight.
It is significant that Bethany was chosen as
33 the scene of this last interview. We may be

Three Comrades
of Jesus

sure that Lazarus was there, and Martha, and
Mary, and many a soul into whose life Jesus
had poured love and truth and healing.

It was a June day, as we name months.
Birds were twittering in the olives, the moun
tain was resonant with song, and the air
fragrant with the odors of flowers blooming
in the fertile valleys of Judah.

In this last meeting, Jesus was as tender as
a lover, yet as authoritative as a king. His
words were commanding and uncompromising,
yet they were sweet to the hearts of those
who listened, for strength gives love and
sympathy higher value and richer meaning.

" Go ye into all the world and tell the good
news to all. To receive it is salvation, to
reject it is condemnation. But remember, I
am with you always."

He spoke other words and all were full of
the strength and tenderness of God. His
eyes beamed with the light and joy of a
richer life, His tones, though penetrating in
their power, were memorably low and sweet.
Many eyes were dimmed with tears while He
spoke His farewell, and sobs broke from
more than one loving disciple.

He ceased, and the veil which had concealed
the soul of the Great Teacher began to lose
its definition. It became cloudy — wavered —
floated — soared, then trembled into light.

Peter stood gazing wistfully into the space
where Jesus had vanished. When there was 34

The Cloud

no hope of further sight of the Master he
turned his face towards the city, gleaming
with the glory of its gilded temple. As he
passed down the mountain side to Kedron,
and entered the city of David, a great courage
was in his soul, for the image and voice and
words of the Son of Man were ineradicably
homed in his heart.

35

Tongues of
Fire

WHEN a soul has become a medium of
the divine life it has found its right
vocation. At Pentecost, Peter became an
instrument of the Spirit, and thus showed
himself truly great. He ceased to consider
self, ceased to count the cost of doing right.
By making all his powers instruments of the
Spirit he became the most effective preacher
of his times.

The fact that Jesus was no longer visibly
present threw Peter into greater prominence,
and laid on him new fesponsibilities. He was
equal to them, only because he forgot self-
interest in his zeal 'for the great work which
he had been commissioned to do.

What we know of Simon before the passing
of Jesus we have learned at close range by
a study of particulars. Such knowledge is
minute and accurate but, as it is personal, it
is no help to the understanding of the real
Peter, for he is now changed. His work is
different. Hitherto he has been self-conscious,
now he is God-conscious. Henceforth we can
know him only by the study of his inspirations,
by the sources of his ideals. Commonplace
and self-conscious persons are known by the
microscopic method, but great souls are never
understood by living in the same house with
them. Inspired and inspiring souls are under
stood only by feeling the drift and direction
37 of their life-currents as thev flow to and from

Three Comrades
of Jesus

the great ocean of Spirit. Inventories of
activities, including unpleasant episodes and
personal gossip, are not essential biography.

Pentecost! We think of it in the singular.
The fires of God have made the world forget
that there was a feast of Pentecost every
year. The phenomena seen on that memor
able day were volcanic, inasmuch as their
causes were unseen. They were for this
reason incalculable. To those who have
known similar phenomena — tongues both of
speech and fire — it requires no strain of
credence to accept the story.

Charged with dissipation, the disciples
seemed to need a defender. It was like Simon
to defend, but it was Peter who did the
preaching. There could be no doubt of the
exact meaning of his words. He forgot self,
forgot the power of the Sanhedrin, forgot the
wealth of the Sadducees, forgot his personal
interest. He was charged with the delivery
of a great message, and that message he
never forgot. His words were like a flame.

How different was Peter since his Christ-
ing! He was no longer the halting Simon,
blundering, stumbling, staggering, falling. He
was now the sure-footed, clear-sighted, flame-
hearted, Christ-conquered Peter, and that day
three thousand persons owned his Christ.

Such was the effect, in those days, of the
anointing, the Christing, of a soul. The
effects are similar to-day. 22

The Cross

pIERCE fires soon raged around the cross.
* Nevertheless, the band of the Twelve was
not broken for fourteen years after the resur
rection. John became a constant companion
of Peter. They walked and talked and toiled
together. John knew Peter's weaknesses. He
also knew his strength, and the genuineness
of his heart. John's serenity gave poise to the
impetuosity of Peter's energy, and steadied
his rugged spirit.

In the midst of those days of fear and
darkness one came to visit Peter in Jerusalem.
It was that fierce zealot, Saul of Tarsus. A
great change had come over him. He, too,
had heard the call of the Christ, and received
the new life. Though still intense and pur
poseful, his sternness had softened, for love
had banished vengeance from those clear,
youthful eyes. Already serenity had taken
the place of severity in that strong, deeply
chiselled countenance.

For two weeks Saul was guest with Peter,
who told him the wonderful facts about
Jesus. We shall never know whether it did
Paul more good to hear the story, or Peter
more to tell it. These two unparalleled
apostles met, were friends, and parted, but
few have ever realized all that the visit meant,
and how much the two owed to each other.

The new life was to Peter a perpetual call
39 to work, a clear voice which held him, with

Three Comrades
of Jesus

his associates, firm in the midst of the fire.
It was the same voice and the same vision
which drove the paganism out of Paganism
and kept its classical and Christian elements
for the illustrative uses of the ages.

James the greater was slain, and James the
younger was soon recognized as the chief
apostle in Jerusalem. About this time Peter
began his work in the great Syrian capital,
Antioch. The remainder of 'his life consisted
of thirty years of toil, storm and persecution.
We know little of its details. He was so
forceful that he was soon recognized as the
head of the early Church in the West, and
has had the honor and love of the whole
Church in all the ages.

A tradition, too generally accepted to be
ignored, connects Peter with the church in
Rome. There is little doubt that here, where
religion, literature, architecture and art have
vied with each other to give immortality to
the great fisher-apostle, on the banks of the
Tiber, at the heart of that empire he had so
often been impatient to subdue, Peters career
ended. Far from the glorious temple of his
fathers; far from the towers of Capernaum
and the home of his childhood on the shores
of Lake Galilee; far from all the dear old
haunts where long ago he had spent so many
delightful hours with Jesus, where he had
been so often rebuked and forgiven; far from
all that was dear to his memorv and tender

The Cross

to his heart, Peter, the man of truth and
rock-built valor, died. On a Roman cross,
like his Master, but with head downwards,
lie passed through the blood-linteled gate into
the joy eternal, the perfect realization of the
Christ, with Whom he had walked and talked
in the dear old davs in Galilee.

41

JAMES

The City and
the Sea

THE distinctive quality of James was his
superlative common sense. He had
that well-balanced judgment which makes its
possessor a tower of strength to those who
enjoy his friendship or receive his counsel.

Without conspicuous qualities of startling
force or attractiveness, and constantly over
shadowed by his friend Simon and his brother
John, James, nevertheless, attained a chief
place in the counsels of the early Church, and
was regarded as a man of earnestness and
ability, a worthy and energetic leader of the
Christian cause.

James shared, with his partners, all the
influences of the sea. Often, when Galilee
foamed along its white coastlines, he felt the
solemn pathos of its monotonous moaning.
The sweep and energy of the waters, the
depth and silence of the blue heavens all
helped to make him patient, resourceful and
strong. He was built on nature's plan, he
knew the forces of the sea and braved their
wild fury.

Besides the strength derived from his con
flict with nature, James acquired an intimate
acquaintance with the human. He lived
in a large city. Capernaum was the great
emporium of the north. The caravans of
Syria and the West passed it on their way to
45 Egypt. The merchants of Damascus dealt

Three Comrades
of Jesus

here, and, indeed, the Galilean city was prob
ably a busier trade centre than the Syrian
capital.

James was a business man. His firm
consisted of five active partners, and hired an
unknown number of employees. Someone
had to be much in the market, and who
was better fitted to attend to the commercial
interests of the firm than the astute and
careful man whose very presence inspired
confidence and strength?

With ever-widening experience James
increased in ability, a joint product of the
cirv and the sea.

46

The First
Christian Committee

WHEN the young Galilean Rabbi left His
bench and tools in the workshop at
Nazareth, the fish-merchant received, along
'with his brother John, the call to the school
of Jesus and, a few months later, to the more
responsible apostolate.

James was, at first, unable to receive the
more spiritual view of the kingdom. This
failure was common to all the apostles, and
was remarkably persistent, for, after Jesus'
death, a belief that He would return in person
in a few months or, at most, in a few years,
to guide and rule, still colored all the teach
ings and writings of the early Church.
We need not wonder. Even to-day these
scriptures are received in the letter. The
sidelights of history are rejected. The inter
pretation which thought and culture and sweet
reasonableness bring to these questions is not
accepted by many. Few see even yet that
the only true kingliness is that of the soul,
that the supremacy of the true heart is the
only real kingdom of Christ, that the empire
of Love, Wisdom and Service is the only
worthy imperial idea.

Because of John's clearer vision, his more
intense nature and his closer association with
Jesus, the world has given him a higher place
in its regard than that accorded to James.
But may not John's reputation for deeper
47 intuition be due, in some measure, to the fact

Three Comrades
of Jesus

that he lived fifty years after James was dead,
and wrote those books to which we are
indebted, almost entirely, for our exceptionally
high estimate of their author? We should
add, however, that it is no discredit to John
that he took liberal opportunity to give us,
unobtrusively, many incidents from his own
life, of which we should not otherwise have
known. Who can say how it would have
been, however, had James written the books
and not John?

One of the earliest disciples, James was also
one of the chief apostles. Inferior to Simon
in initiative, and to John in vision, James
was, in judgment, superior to both. He was
no figure-head in that notable group of three
who so constantly surrounded Jesus, and saw
His transfiguration and His agony.

When the evangelist, in these days, calls
to his side the most devoted of his people,
forming a spiritual battery, an atmosphere of
strength, an aura of divine influence, he is
following the example of Jesus, who, when
He wished to strengthen faith and conquer
unbelief, took with Him Peter, James and
John. The elements of any force are wasted
unless they be accumulated into a centre of
power. This was the earliest example, as it
is the highest sanction, of the Christian com
mittee of modern times. The proximity of
faithful and loyal persons is a stronghold to
anv hero. 48

Jesus Forsaken

UNFORTUNATELY, there is not re
corded of James, prior to the crucifixion
of Jesus, a single detail that can be considered
unique. He shared John's immeasurable
ambition, and had also his lightning temper,
which may have been the reason that both
were named " the sons of thunder."

From the day when James left his nets on
(he shore of Galilee's sea till that night of
the betrayal, when the iron hand of Rome
separated the Master from him, the apostle
remained faithful to the call and courage of
the Christ. Though he looked for a position
of power in the kingdom, he, nevertheless,
cherished motives far worthier. He loved
Jesus, and that love was firm enough to hold
him, under all ordinary circumstances, faith
ful to the cause.

We do not forget that James fled from the
menace of the Sanhedrin and forsook the
Master in His most critical hour. Nor do we
seek to palliate the crime, the cowardice or
the treachery of the act. The truth is some
times frightful. James turned away, leaving
his best Friend to the inhuman cruelties of
His torturers. The act was base and cowardly.

We can understand the defection of the

apostle only when we possess that higher

consciousness which knows what is in man.

How otherwise can we know the powers and

49 passions that sway another's heart? How

Three Comrades
of Jesus

sound the deeps of another's life? With the
stupor of sleep still heavy upon him, the
weariness of long hours, deep attention and
constant watching, the sudden surprise and
alarm caused by the intruding mob, the reproof
of Simon, the conviction that the dream of
Israel's restoration by this man was vain, the
fading of all his hope into darkness, what was
more natural or more human than to flee, and
how could such a succession of disasters have
ended save in utter despair? It was an early
example of that awfulest of human tragedies,
" a good man gone wrong," but Jesus did not
hold it against him, then why should we?

50

The Great
Commission

/"AN came the storm, the darkness, the
^^ tragedy. One awful night Jesus told
them all that He had overcome the world, but
before the next sunset His lifeless body was
hanging dead upon a malefactor's cross. All
the bright hopes of years were buried with
that pallid form in the Arimathean's tomb.
In the soul of James was enacted that tragedy
which is repeated whenever an optimism
based on a material foundation goes crashing
down before the forces of a materialism longer
established. The soul needs the supreme vision,
else in such a case it will be almost over
whelmed with despair. Without a divine
faith in those things which cannot be shaken,
James could not see, through that cloud of
despair, the dawn of that eternal morning,
whose fuller day has not yet reached its high
noon. Even now, few conceive of the glory
that is to be in the day of the consummation.
Few have ever seen the splendid vision of the
perfect Kingdom of the Christ.

The first day of the week brought to James
the initial gleams of that fair vision. He
saw the Lord that day as he had never seen
Him before. It was " life struck sharp on
death " after a new fashion.

Few can imagine the rapture of a reunion
after a supposed life-long separation has
dealt its stunning blow. The message that

Three Comrades
of Jesus

Jesus was alive brought to the soul of James
a thrill of wonder, gladness and inspiration.
He came, at the startling news, straightway
out of the abyss. To see the Christ was only
a matter of moments, but he never after lost
for one moment all the deep splendors of that
experience. So it is with every soul that once
greatly desires. It will not, cannot, long fail
of achievement, and that which the soul once
rises into, it can never wholly lose.

Had the dead Caesar appeared to Brutus
and committed to him the establishment on
a firm basis of the foundations of imperial
Rome, it would have been a notable event,
but Jesus appeared to James, no one else
being present, and committed to His apostle
a glorious service of humanity in comparison
with which the first place in an earthly political
regime was to be cast aside as a despicable
bauble. Peter and Paul seem to have been
the only other apostles who enjoyed a similar
interview. It was a clear evidence of the
spiritual vision and noble zeal of all three.

James had been communing with Jesus in
his heart, desiring, with a great longing, to
see that loved face again when the glorious
spirit took shape before his eyes, and lo, the
Christ! How the mystic beauty and radiant
presence of Jesus awed the penitent apostle!
His heart bounded with unutterable love.
With humble penitence and bitter shame,
James was about to deplore his cowardly flight §5.

The Great
Commission

from the garden, and to beg the Master to
believe that he would never more, if he were
trusted, betray so great a Friend; but love
and joy and sorrow were so mingled in his
appealing eyes that Jesus tenderly waived the
matter with expressions of personal regard,
and passed on to the consideration of the
great cause for which He had lived and died,
and for which James also was soon to die.
Then that magnanimous spirit committed to
James those responsibilities whose burden of
toil and promise almost staggered the great
apostle, yet filled his deeply-moved soul with
humility and joy.

The Tarsan

AFTER Pentecost James became at once
conspicuously zealous as a prominent
leader in the early Church. Persecutions
could not drive him from his place. Faithful
and firm, his devotion to the Kingdom of
Christ was not abated with the passing years.

Mutterings of storm were heard from time
to time. Scarcely had the events of Pentecost
transpired before the Sanhedrin sought to
suppress the teaching of the apostles. The
death of the leader had not quenched, as they
had hoped it would, the zeal of His followers.
Threats were unavailing. There arose one at
this time among the Pharisees, whose very
name became a terror. Saul, the Tarsan, was
so fierce in his opposition to the Christian
cause that all his words were fire and his
acts slaughter. The good deacon Stephen was
put to death, and many were thrown into
prison. The lives of the whole Christian
community were threatened.

With Saul the storm passed out of Jeru
salem like a pestilence into the desert. Rumors
came that he had been smitten with blindness,
had been changed, that he had even been
pursued as a follower of the Christ that he
might be put to death. It was reported that
he had been let down by his friends through
a high window in the wall of Damascus, and
had escaped by flight into the desert, where he
55 had changed his name and been lost sight of.

Three Comrades
of Jesus

So the Church had rest, and three years
were added to the life of the cause. One
day a messenger came hurriedly to James as
he sat in his house in Jerusalem, and bade
him come at once to the home of Peter.
The matter was urgent. This was all the
messenger knew. James hastened immediately
to Peter's house, and there, much to his
astonishment, met the great Cilician, the
Pharisee of Tarsus, the same Saul, now called
by another name, who had once made such
havoc of the Church, the former dreaded
persecutor, of the saints. He was no longer
Saul but Paulus, the little one, a humble
disciple of Christ, but one before whose
burning zeal and utter self-sacrifice the pagan
gods trembled and fell down.

The three talked long and earnestly con
cerning Jesus and the kingdom. Day after
day James came to Peter's home, for he felt
that wondrous power of a magnetic soul
which, in after years, attracted so many thou
sands throughout Europe and Asia to the
standard of the Christ, uplifted in the hands
of this amazing personality.

James increased in influence among the
saints in Jerusalem, and was soon regarded
as the most eminent apostle of the Christian
Church. His business tact and poise, together
with his great spiritual energy made him at
once the chief pillar in Jerusalem.

56

James the
Martyr

ONE morning in the year A.D. 44, as we
now count the years, like a bolt out of
the blue, news came to the Christians in
Jerusalem that James was dead. Herod
A'grippa had slain him with the sword.

The ecclesia gathered in consternation and
sorrow, and talked of the great virtues and
conspicuous services, the deep piety and the
noble life of their dead leader. It seemed
strange that, under such tragic circumstances,
the sun should still shine on the villas of
Olivet as if oblivious to their grief. With
prayer and solemn discourse all were strength
ened and exhorted to be firm in the faith and
testimony of Jesus.

Herod cared little for the life of an apostle,
and finding that his murderous act pleased
the priests, he took Peter also a prisoner,
intending, in all probability, to slay him too.
The disciples saw, in the events which fol
lowed, a divine interposition of a most
miraculous character. Peter was released
from prison, his life was spared, and Herod
in a most loathsome manner lost his life that
year. The precise nature of these events is
little understood, but the central facts are
unquestionable.

How great a gap in the group of the fisher-
apostles the death of James made is difficult
to realize. The shock to the disciples must
have been intense, not only because he was
57 their chieftain, but also because of the

Three Comrades
of Jesus

imminent danger to Peter and others. But
Love cannot be quenched with blood. Great
causes thrive on persecutions. The star of
the kingdom still shone through the night of
tears, and the flight of ages has not dimmed
its glorious light.

James' martyrdom was a tribute to his
eminence, and a testimony to his zeal and
faithfulness. He stood, a hero, in places of
exposure. He was conspicuous in service,
consequently, he was the first apostle to die
a martyr to the cross.

Spiritual freedom is always bought with
sacrifice. James was one of those heroes
who have purchased our human liberties. He
could die, but would not be untrue to humanity
and to God.

We are too ready to pity the martyrs.
Immortality is a poor recompense for the loss
of a life, but to die for a worthy cause is the
greatest service, next to living for it. The
early Christians, in many cases, coveted the
honor of giving faithful service, even to the
extent of life-sacrifice, for the love of Christ.

The death of James was a refining furnace
that tested the pure gold of the Church as
nothing less than fire could do.

In life James was sometimes overshadowed
by the outstanding genius of Peter and John,
but in his death he was lifted up, and became
in life and death a lode-star to draw men to
Christ. 58

JOHN

Companion of
the Sea

WE have thought of John erroneously
as a quietist, philosopher, a religious
recluse, with gentle spirit, soft hands, pale
face and tender heart. He who wanted to
call down fire on his foes, and desired to be
prime minister or other high officer in the
Kingdom of Christ, who designated the cant
ing hypocrite a shameless liar, and, from his
youth, had lived on the wave, making the
wind a servant to drive his ship up and down
the sea, was neither effeminate nor a mere
pietist.

John was a sturdy, strong and resourceful
man. His occupation had hardened his hands,
and the sun and wind had bronzed his face.
He was a comrade of the sail and the sea, a
companion of the night and the storm. The
darkness and the sunshine, the tempest and
the calm, had drifted into his soul. Like the
sea, he was sometimes serene, and at others
fierce with tempestuous emotions.

We know so little of the details of John's
life that any account of him is, like that of
his companions, necessarily a sketch rather
than a story. What we do know, however,
is wonderfully significant. He understood
Jesus better than did any other disciple. Mary
of Bethany was probably the only other who
61 understood Him nearly as well.

Three Comrades
of Jesus

The Master seemed to rest in John's com
panionship as in a retreat, and John, who
reclined next to Jesus at meals, regarded Him
with a love that was nothing short of worship.

Though probably the youngest of the
Twelve, John was ever in that group of three
who were constantly nearest to Jesus; indeed,
of the immortal three, he was probably most
deferred to by the other two, for he was
always most intimately associated with the
Master. When the others feared to ask Jesus
who the traitor was, John did not hesitate to
inquire, for he had long been known as the
disciple whom Jesus loved.

The statement of the evangelists, " They
all forsook him and fled," is generally inter
preted too comprehensively. John and Peter
are otherwise accounted for. John secured
for Peter admission to the high priest's house,
and they were both there with Jesus. We
claim for John, and surely not unfairly, that
he at this time, as always, was true to Jesus.

Most significant of all, perhaps, is the fact
that John was asked by Jesus to care for His
mother when He should be no longer with
her.

We know from the fathers that by an edict
of Domitian, John was exiled to Patmos, and
that, when very old, he was again an honored
saint in Ephesus.

Companion of
the Sea

We must reproduce the character of John
out of these materials. They seem few, but
they are enough. He had a deep nature,
and could love and serve with tremendous
intensity. He learned to know Jesus earlier
and better than did any other apostle. The
soul that truly loves cannot long fail to
understand.

63

In the Home
of John

THE fact that James and John were
candidates for prominent offices in the
kingdom that Jesus was expected to establish
shows that neither of them understood fully
the nature of that kingdom.

We must not, however, let this fact prove
too much. John was not oblivious to the
spiritual nature of the work of Jesus. He had
conceived an immediate visible organization,
with Jesus as its king, and His apostles as its
ministers. Indeed, Jesus had said, " Ye also
shall sit on thrones," and this probably led to
misunderstanding, and to the petition of the
brothers.

We know that John's heart understood the
heart of Jesus. Many a night, when the
white moon was shining on the waters, Jesus
and His loved comrade strolled together and
dreamed of the triumph of love in the lives
of the people, or, rocking on the waves, they
talked of the kingdom of the unselfish, the
empire of the true-hearted, the government of
God, till both felt the great peace and presence
of the Father in their souls. Their hearts
were one — one with each other, one with the
Soul of All.

The light of God came permanently into

John's life, and shone there till the glow of

Love was at home in his heart, and the calm

65 light of God's peace appeared in his young

Three Comrades
of Jesus

face. Love, wonder and worship found a
place in his soul, and when the storm burst
and swept in fury around the soul of Jesus,
his dearest disciple was not confounded. His
heart was alert, and, fortressed with love and
the Christ-consciousness, he saw with perfect
vision the great future of the Christ-kingdom.

Nothing shows more clearly the confidence
of the Master in His affectionate friend than
the fact that Jesus committed the care of His
mother to John when He himself was on the
cross. Mary was henceforth a member of
John's household. If we could imagine their
thoughts and words and quiet inspirations, and
reproduce their beautiful conversations and
tender allusions to Jesus how rich we should
be! Never was it truer that where two who
love Him are met the Christ is present. Often
while they talked of Him they felt the puls
ings of His Spirit upon their consciousness
and realized His mysterious presence.

We love those who love our loved ones.
John and Mary were, for this reason,
peculiarly fitted to find delight in communion
with each other. A never-failing store of
memories — incidents, phrases, illustrations,
was ever at their command to make the won
derful life their daily meat. John's devotion
to Jesus called out to the full the affection
of Mary, and attached her devotedly to him
who had enjoyed so completely the love and
confidence of her Son. 66

In the Home
of John

When the art of literature is perfected,
when, at last, words can tell with fine and nice
effect the deep and tender yearnings of the
soul, some strong and subtle author will pic
ture these scenes in the home of John, writ
ing imaginary conversations whose beauty,
strength and spirituality shall stand unrivalled
among the literary productions of the world.

67

Patmos

ONE by one the years passed and John's
friends disappeared. His brother James
fell a victim to Herod's sword. Zebedee and
Salome laid down their burdens and went
home. Mary reached the joy of her Son's
presence. The Twelve gave their lives as
martyrs of the cross, and all passed through
gates of fire into the eternal land. Paul had
put off his Roman chains, and Barnabas had
received his crown, but John still lingered.
The Jewish kingdom was no more, Rome was
swept down in fire, and Jerusalem lay desolate
in the dust, but the disciple whom Jesus loved
lived on, homesick for heaven, eager for
God's call.

Late in the century John was exiled to
Patmos, a barren mount, sea-girt and bare,
situated near Miletus, and not very far from
Ephesus. Here dwelt the lonely exile through
the quiet years, with the great, sweet memories
of Jesus in his soul. The eloquent silence
seemed almost bursting into music inspired by
the unseen presence of the Christ.

When sunrise came like a golden dream
over the Asian mountains, gilding the towers
of Miletus and flinging its splendid mantle of
light far over the sea, John felt it all and the
feeling wasa heaven. When the sun in the
glowing meridian poured its flood of light
and heat over the ocean he still thought and
dreamed, and wrote his dream and thought,

Three Comrades
of Jesus

but could never embody in words the great
love that made the world of nature like the
smile of God.

We almost envy John his views of the fire-
painted sunsets. How their splendors must
have thrilled his imagination! Perchance, he
wrote the Apocalypse while an exile here, we
may be sure its vivid pictures were in some
degree inspired by the splendid panorama
spread before him in this temple of sea and
sky.

John had long ago lost the crude conception
of a visible throne and kingdom. He knew
how futile is the sovereignty that subjugates
with the sword. The might of those love-
chains that held him to Christ could not be
measured. Their bond could not be broken.
The joy of his union with the heart of his
King was so great there seemed no reason
why that joy should not spread till it should
encompass the world and fill it with heaven.

Thus the years sped on like a mighty river
moving placidly into the silent sea.

70

A

Love

One Another

T last the exile was ended. We are told
> that John came to the great Ephesian
capital, and became a mountain of strength to
the people of that Christian centre. He
may have written (dictated or narrated) the
Fourth Gospel while a resident of that place.

It is said that when John was very old they
carried him to where he could speak to the
people before he should sail beyond earth's
harbor bar into God's silent sea, the infinite
presence of Christ.

We can imagine what an atmosphere of
expectancy pervaded the Christian community
of Ephesus. What words would the great
apostle give them before his passing? Doubt
less many looked for a profound discourse,
an authoritative dissertation, or some clearer
interpretation of the Apostles' Creed.

In awed silence the congregation await the
coming of the aged saint. An occasional
whisper breaks the stillness of the expectant
throng. At last a movement is heard, and
John, unique in all the world as the only
living disciple who had seen the face of Jesus,
is brought in. His eyes of joy, ever young,
are framed with hair of silver light. Love's
smile is glowing in his glorious face. They
carry him forward to the dais and turn his
face to the people. Hush! He is about to
71 speak. The solemn air grows still as eternity.

Three Comrades
of Jesus

A firm, sweet voice chisels the silence into
sculptured music, and all hear with clearness
the last public utterance of the great comrade
of Jesus.

" My little children, it is the last time. We
have known and believed the love that God
hath to us.

"God is love; and he that dwelleth in love
dwelleth in God, and God in him.

" He that loveth not his brother whom he
hath seen, how shall he love God whom he
hath not seen?

" He that saith he is in the light and hateth
his brother is in darkness even until now.

" He that loveth his brother, abideth in the
light.

" My little children, love one another."

When that long life, so strong and perfect,
was quite turned into memories and hopes,
and the three bright years of companionship
with Jesus seemed like a sweet picture of a
far-off shore, with storms and sorrows and
lonely voyaging between, one day when the
light was receding beyond the western waters,
John's ship sailed out into the wide sea.
Those with open vision, who remained on the
shore and saw the ship with its lifted sails
pass into the open, could clearly descry 'a
companion with the apostle, "And lo, his form
was like the Son of Man." Each of the noble 72

Love

One Another

voyagers was gazing with speechless joy into
the love-illumined eyes of his friend.

The clear-eyed watchers waited till, through
their tears, they saw the stately ship pass out
of sight. Then they took up the earth-robe
of John and laid it in an Ephesian tomb.

73

c:c

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