It is the practical experience of the apostle Paul’s heart in connection with Christ that is so marked in verse 20. The heart of a believer attentive to the Spirit’s teaching must feel that one cannot read this verse without seeing that Paul had a practical connection with the Nazarene in heaven, that he believed in a Christ who was not in heaven only, but in his own soul, so that he could think of nothing but this Christ. That which would not be joy to the heart of Christ, he as a believer in Christ could not joy in; and that which had Christ for its object could not do otherwise than turn to his salvation, through prayer and the supply of the Spirit. His only thought in everything was that Christ should be magnified in his body, whether by life or death (verse 20). This occupied his whole heart; and you and I may realize it as much as he did.

Can you and I say that we have only one simple desire; that is, that through us Christ should be magnified? To magnify anything is to make it appear larger than it is; that could not be so in connection with Christ. But Paul wanted all to shine out in him, so that Christ should be magnified through him_so shine out that all should be able to say, "What a marvelous thing! there is a man so spending his life for Christ that he does not care to live if he can but magnify Christ by his death! What a marvelous Person that Christ must be!"

Paul had the expectation that through him Christ should be glorified now in the wilderness, that now Christ should be magnified. The love of Christ constrained him, drew him along in the path after Christ. Oh, what manifestation of Christ it is when the display of His handiwork is seen in a Saul of Tarsus, the oil of anointing so flowing down to the servant that it could be said of that servant, "Like Master, like servant!" What a blessed servant this servant of Christ is in a dungeon, not knowing whether he was to live or die, occupied only with the one thought of glorifying Christ there, of being a fellow helper with Him down here! Whether his feet are in fetters or not, he could say, "It is Christ I have for my portion in this dungeon; and whether I am here for life or death, it is my earnest expectation and hope that Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death."

To what extent have we become fellow workers with Paul? To what degree are we maintaining our Nazariteship and living out Christ so that, whatever our circumstances, the power of the life of Christ in us may be seen as in Paul? How far is seen in us, from day to day, the mind of Christ? The same mind that led Him down, even to the death of the cross, is the mind that we ought to have. We are to let the power of the grace that found us, and gave us life, tell its own tale by the manifestation of that life in all our circumstances in our wilderness path.

"Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body. For we which live are always delivered unto death for Jesus’ sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh" (2 Cor. 4:10,11).

This fourth chapter of 2 Corinthians is the apostle Paul’s statement of power for ministry. He shows us in these stirring verses that God is not looking for brilliant men, is not depending upon eloquent men, is not shut up to the use of talented men in sending His gospel out into the world. God is looking for broken men, for men who have judged themselves in the light of the cross of Christ. When He wants anything done, He takes up men who have come to an end of themselves, and whose trust and confidence is not in themselves but in God.

There were those who were calling in question the apostle-ship of Paul himself, for he did not seem to them to be what an apostle, according to their estimation of the office, ought to be. There was not the pomp nor the dignity they would expect; he did not come to them with great swelling words; there was no making anything of what he was after the flesh; no drawing attention to his natural ability or education; and in this the method of the apostle Paul was in very vivid contrast to the method pursued by many today who pose as servants of our Lord Jesus Christ. This man went through the world a broken man, a lowly man, a man seeking only the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ and the blessing of souls, a man who might have occupied a very high place among the great and distinguished of earth. But he was a man who for Jesus’ sake had turned his back upon all that, and could say, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world" (Gal. 6:14). That cross spoke of the deepest shame and ignominy, and Paul gloried in it because through the work that took place upon it his soul had been saved, and he had learned that the preaching of the cross, while it is "to them that perish foolishness," is "unto us which are saved the power of God" (1 Cor. 1:18). And so he went forth content to be broken in order that the light of the grace of God might shine out.

You will notice in verse 6 (2 Cor. 4) that "God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us." It is easy to see what he has in mind. He is thinking undoubtedly of that very striking incident of which we read in Judges, when Gideon and his three hundred men took their lives in their hands, were delivered unto death, as it were, and went forth against the vast armies of the Midianites. Surely no other army was accoutered as this one. They carried in one hand a trumpet, and in the other a pitcher, and in this pitcher was a lamp. The light of the lamp was not seen though it was already lit. It was not seen as long as it was in the earthen jar. They surrounded the army of the Midianites in the middle of the night, and suddenly at the command of their leader the jars were crashed to earth, and the light shone out, and the Midianites sprang up startled. They heard the crash and saw the light, and thought that they were surrounded by a tremendous army, and they turned their swords upon one another. It was God through Gideon that led the army to victory. A broken pitcher in order that light might shine out! The apostle says, as it were, "That is it! If you want to be a light for God in a world like this, be content to be broken, to have your hopes, your ambitions, all dashed to pieces, and then God can take you up and use you in order to carry the light of Christ to darkened hearts."

How are we broken? By affliction, by trouble, by the discipline of the Lord, sometimes by sickness, by pain and anguish. All these are the divine methods for breaking God’s pitchers in order that the light may shine out to His praise and glory. Men may misjudge us, misrepresent us, persecute us bitterly; we may not have enough food to eat or water to drink; we may be cast down; we may suffer all kinds of sorrows; but it is all right if it breaks us in order that God may be able the better to use us. And so he says, "We are troubled on every side, but not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed"; for in all these experiences we are simply "bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus may be made manifest in our body." He "came from Godhead’s fullest glory down to Calvary’s depth of woe."

We sometimes sing a little hymn that always stirs the heart. I remember hearing Dr. Torrey say that he believed of all the hymns that were used in his great meetings around the world, it was the one that seemed to be most blessed of God to the people. It is:

"I surrender all,
I surrender all,
All to Thee, my blessed Saviour,
I surrender all."

But that hymn never had the appeal it ought to have for my own heart until one day I found myself changing that chorus. I was thinking of Him who though He was "in the form of God, thought equality with God not a thing to be grasped; but made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross" (Phil. 2:6-8). And as my heart was occupied with Him, 1 found myself singing these words:

"He surrendered all,
He surrendered all,
All for me, my blessed Saviour,
He surrendered all."

And then my heart said, "O Lord, it will be easy to sing it the other way now, for what have I to give up, to surrender, in comparison with what Thou didst give up in order to redeem my guilty soul from going down to the pit?" It is as you and I realize from day to day what it all meant to Him that we can bear about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus:dying day by day to our own hopes and ambitions, dying to the good opinion of people, dying to human praise and adulation, to everything that the natural heart grasps, dying in the death of Jesus to it all, because He died for us in order that the life of Jesus may be made manifest in our body.

You will notice that verses 10 and 11 are very much alike, and yet the great difference is this:verse 10 suggests something that we do deliberately, consciously, whereas verse 1.1 is something that God does for us. What is it we are called to do? "Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus"_reminding ourselves every day that Jesus died for us, and because He died for us we are gladly to put ourselves in the place of death for Him.

Looking back to the cross the apostle Paul could say, "I am crucified with Christ:nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, 1 live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me" (Gal. 2:20). But this has to be put into practice daily by putting my tastes and ambitions in the place of death. That is my part. But here is God’s part:"We which live are always delivered unto death for Jesus’ sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh." You tell God that you are willing to take the place of death with Christ, and He will see that it is made good; you tell God you are going to trust Him, and He will test your faith and show you what it means to trust Him; you tell Him that you are ready to surrender everything to Him, and He will put you in the place where you will begin to find out what full surrender really means. I do not know of anything that it seems should have such an appeal to the Christian heart along this line as the frequent remembrance of our Lord Jesus Christ in His death, and 1 think it is because He realized that it is so easy for us to forget, that He said to His disciples when He gave them this memorial feast, "This do in remembrance of Me" (Luke 22:19). And the Holy Ghost said, "As often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord’s death till He come" (1 Cor. 11:26). Every time we are called upon thus to remember the Lord it is a new challenge to ask ourselves, "Am I simply remembering Him in a cold, formal, intellectual way because it is customary, or am I truly in heart remembering the One who went down beneath the dark waters of death for me, and am I truly ready now to always bear about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus?"

What a poor thing it is to come together in assemblies to participate in the communion of the Lord’s Supper and then go out from the building and forget what it all really means, forget that our Saviour died, that we are linked up with the One who died, and that He has left us an example that we should follow His steps_that is, we should always bear about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus. This seems to me to be linked very intimately with several Old Testament references to which our attention is drawn in Hebrews 11. We read, "By faith Joseph, when he died, made mention of the departing of the children of Israel, and gave commandment concerning his bones" (Heb. 11:22). Did you ever stop and ask why the Holy Spirit selected that particular incident to dwell upon? He has instanced something that you and I would probably have passed over altogether. What did Joseph do? "Gave commandment concerning his bones." In Gen. 50:25 we read where Joseph, talking to the children of Israel, says, "God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence. So Joseph died, being an hundred and ten years old; and they embalmed him, and he was put in a coffin in Egypt." That is the close of the Book of Genesis. What an odd way to close the book! But God wants us to think about the bones of Joseph. They are there in a coffin in Egypt, but they are to be carried to Canaan. In Exodus 13 we find that the children of Israel who have been sheltered by the blood of the passover lamb are now starting out for Canaan, and we read, "Moses took the bones of Joseph with him, for he had straitly sworn the children of Israel, saying, God will surely visit you; and ye shall carry up my bones away hence with you" (Exod, 13:19). Who was Joseph? He was the saviour of Israel. If it had not been for him they would have all been destroyed in the famine; but he was their saviour, and now he says, "When you leave Egypt to go to Canaan, you carry my bones with you." When they left, they were very careful to do as they were told, and all the way across the sands of the desert wherever that great caravan went they were always bearing about in the body the dying of Joseph.

By and by when they reached the land, when they got to the place that God Himself had selected for them, we are told, "The bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out of Egypt, buried they in Shechem, in a parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor, the father of Shechem, for an hundred pieces of silver; and it became the inheritance of the children of Joseph" (Josh. 24:32). There was no need to carry the bones of Joseph through the wilderness any more, for they were at home now. And, beloved, you and I are passing on through the wilderness of this world. We will soon be home, but until we reach there we are called upon to bear about in the body the dying of Jesus, and as we remember Him in the breaking of bread and the drinking of the cup, we should challenge our own hearts:Are we simply looking objectively toward that cross and saying, "There our Saviour died," or are we seeking day by day to practically make it manifest that His death means more to us than all that this world glories in?

(In Help and Food, Vol. 49.)

It is necessary to distinguish between Christ’s sufferings from man and His sufferings from God. Christ did, we know, suffer from men. He was "despised and rejected of men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." The world hated Him because He bore witness of it that its works were evil. Christ suffered for righteousness’ sake. The love which caused the Lord to minister to men in the world and to testify of their evil brought only more sorrow upon Him. For His love He received hatred in return.

He suffered also from the hand of God upon the cross. "It pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He hath put Him to grief." He was made sin for us who knew no sin, and then he was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. There He suffered, the Just for the unjust; that is, He suffered not because He was righteous, but because we were sinners, and He was bearing our sins in His own body on the tree. As regards God’s forsaking Him, He could say, "Why hast Thou forsaken Me?" for in Him there was no cause. We can give the solemn answer. In grace He suffered, the Just for the unjust; He had been made sin for us. Thus, He suffered for righteousness, as a living Man, from men; as a dying Saviour, He suffered from the hand of God for sin.

Let us consider other types of suffering experienced by our blessed Lord. In the first place, His heart of love must have suffered greatly from the unbelief of unhappy man, and from His rejection by the people. He often sighed and groaned in spirit when He came in contact with the people. He wept and groaned within Himself at the tomb of Lazarus at seeing the power of death over the spirits of men and their incapacity to deliver themselves. And He wept also over Jerusalem when He saw the beloved city about to reject Him in the day of its visitation. All this was the suffering of perfect love, moving through a scene of ruin, in which self-will and heartlessness shut every avenue against this love which was so earnestly working in its midst.

A weight of another kind pressed upon the Lord often, I doubt not, through His life. This was the anticipation of His sufferings on the cross and their true and pressing character. On His path of life lay death. And for Him death was death-man’s utter weakness, Satan’s extreme power, and God’s just vengeance. In this death He would be alone, without one sympathy, forsaken of those whom He had cherished, and the object of enmity of the rest of the people. The Messiah was to be delivered to the Gentiles and cast down, the judge washing his hands of condemning innocence, the priests interceding against the guiltless instead of for the guilty. All was dark, without one ray of light even from God. Here perfect obedience was needed and (blessed be God!) was found. What sorrow this must have been for a soul who anticipated these things with the feelings of a Man made perfect in thought and apprehension by the divine light which was in Him. He could not fail to fear the forsaking of God and the cup of death He had to drink.

In Gethsemane, when the cross was yet nearer, and the prince of this world was come, and His soul was exceeding sorrowful unto death, this character of sorrow and trial, or temptation, reached its fullness. In Gethsemane all was closing in. The deep agony of the Lord told itself out in few (yet how mighty!) words and in sweat as it were drops of blood. Yet when the soldiers came to apprehend Him, He freely offered Himself to drink that cup which the Father had given Him to drink. Wondrous scene of love and obedience! Whatever the suffering may have been, it was the free moving of a Man in grace, but of a Man perfect in obedience to God.

Sin itself must have been a continual source of sorrow to the Lord’s mind. If Lot vexed his righteous soul with seeing and hearing the evil of Sodom when he was himself so far from God in his practical life, what must the Lord have suffered in passing through the world! He was distressed by sin. He looked on the Pharisees with anger, being grieved at the hardness of their hearts. He was in a dry and thirsty land where no water was, and He felt it, even if His soul was filled with marrow and fatness. The holier and more loving He was, the more dreadful was the sin to Him.

The sorrows of mankind were also in His heart. He bore their sicknesses and carried their infirmities. There was not a sorrow nor an affliction He met that He did not bear on His heart as His own. "In all their afflictions He was afflicted." Our sins He bore too, and was made sin for us, but that, as we have seen, was on the cross_obedience, not sympathy. God made Him, who knew no sin, to be sin for us. All the rest was the sympathy of love, though it was sorrow. This is a blessed character of the Lord’s sorrow. Love brought Him to the cross, we well know; but His sorrow there had not the present joy of a ministration of love. He was not dealing with man, but suffering in his place, in obedience, from God and for man. Hence, it was unmingled, unmitigated suffering_the scene, not of active goodness, but of God forsaking. But all His sorrow in His ways with men was the direct fruit of love, sensibly acting on Him. He felt for others, about others. That feeling was (oh, how constantly!) sorrow in a world of sin; but that feeling was love. This is sweet to our thought. For His love He might have hatred, but the present exercise of love has a sweetness and character of its own which no form of sorrow it may impart ever takes away; and in Him it was perfect.

Another source of sorrow was the violation of every delicacy which a perfectly attuned mind could feel. They stood staring and looking upon Him. Insult, scorn, deceit, efforts to catch Him in His words, brutality, and cruel mocking fell upon a not insensible, though divinely patient, spirit. Reproach broke His heart. He was the song of the drunkards. No divine perfection saved Him from sorrow. He passed through it with divine perfection, and by means of it. But I do not believe there was a single human feeling (and every most delicate feeling of a perfect soul was there) that was not violated and trodden on in Christ. Doubtless, it was nothing compared with divine wrath. Men and their ways were forgotten when He was on the cross; but the suffering was not the less real when it was there. All was sorrow, but the exercise of love, and that must, at last, make way for obedience in death where the wrath of God closed over and obliterated the hatred and wickedness of men. Such was Christ. All sorrow concentrated in His death where the comfort of active love and the communion with His Father could put no alleviating sweetness with that dreadful cup of wrath. He gave up everything on the cross, but afterward He received glory anew from His Father’s hand_glory which He had ever had, but now would enter into as Man.