“Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was man never yet laid ” (John 19:41).
by Enoch S. Moore
A garden in the place where our blessed Saviour was crucified! Some have held that this is no more than a topographical note introduced merely for the sake of accuracy. But it is quite in John’s manner to attach importance to these apparent trifles and to give no express statement that he is doing so. Yet we believe that there is symbolical meaning here for us, if we have ears to hear, and eyes to see. We might suppose there would have been an arid patch of ground, bleak and forsaken. No, the place where our Saviour died was in a gar den, or nigh to it. The year was at spring. The fresh green of resurgent life was on the world. Nature was at its best. And being spring time in Pales tine, that land o f flowers, close by the cross were blossom and fragrance. And ever since in the place where He was cru cified has been a garden, mystical and beautiful. The old legend tells of a saint who became the pos sessor of a small fragment of the true cross. The evening it was received the good man placed it on the altar as an offering to the Lord. Next morning at sunrise he hastened to the chapel, and lo! the sacred wood had budded in the night, and the trail ing flowers filled the sanctuary. Only a legend, no doubt: yet it holds the hint of the profound spir itual truth that when the life is yielded to Christ, the heart becomes a garden of the Lord. “ I am cru cified with Christ, nevertheless I live; yet not I but Christ liveth in me.” “ In the place where He was crucified there was a garden.” At this Easter season, let us take our baskets of faith and gather some flowers from the garden o f God’s Word, for its central glory is, “ the place where He was crucified.” As we walk down the shady path, drink in the beauty that abounds on every hand. Did you ever see such a riot of colors, such artistic arrangements o f form and design;
and were your nostrils ever entertained with such richness and rarity of incense as the perfume of these exotic flowers? Look here at these precious passion flowers! Of them let us pluck three: one for the world: “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son” ; one for the church: “ Christ loved the church and gave Himself for it” ; one for you and me: “He loved me and gave Him self for me.” Pause before these rare roses. Of these blooms we shall pick three; the red rose of forgiveness, “ in whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins” ; the white rose o f purity, “ though your sins be as scar let, they shall be white as snow” ; the golden rose o f glory, “ the glory Thou gavest Me I have given them.” Now stoop for this sprig of hearts-ease: “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” Passing on down the garden path, let us gather a cluster of forget-me-nots: “ Zion said, the Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgot ten me. Can a mother forget her child? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.” Now bend over these heavenly flowers in our basket of faith and smell the fragrance, “Thy Name is as fra grance poured forth.” Standing where you are in the garden o f God’s Word, lift your eyes and look upon the Divine Gardener for a moment. “ Yea, He is altogother lovely!” “Jesus, Thou art enough The mind and heart to fill; Thy patient life— to calm the soul; Thy love—its fear dispel. “ 0 fix our earnest gaze So wholly, Lord, on Thee;
That, with Thy beauty occupied, We elsewhere none may see!”
APRIL, 1969
19
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