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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 13:37:35 GMT -5
XXX.
The Restoration Of The Banished
"For we must needs die, and are as water spilt on the ground, which
cannot be gathered up again; neither doth God respect any person;
yet doth he devise means, that his banished be not expeled from
Him." —
2 Samuel 14:14
SUCH is "the wise woman's" argument, or rather Joab's, addressed to king
David, in order to persuade him to be reconciled to Absalom. God does
not deal with us as you are dealing with your son, though we have
deserved his anger. He punishes, yet he, devises means for the cancelling
of the punishment and the restoration of his exiles. He is just, yet the
Saviour. Mark the woman's statement.
I.
We must needs die. This is the law, the inevitable, inexorable law;
not of nature or fate, but of God. "Unto dust shalt thou return;" "It is
appointed unto men once to die." This is no probability, but a certainty, a
necessity; greater than that the sun will rise and set to-morrow. "He died,"
is the conclusion of each man's history. Our world's story is one of death.
It might be Methuselah's nine hundred or David's seventy, but it is death
at last. Even when the Son of God took our nature, he must die. None have
escaped this, save two; none shall, save those who shall be alive when
Christ comes. You may have health, friends, riches, honours, but you must
needs die. When, where, how, you know not.
II.
We are as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up
again. Man lieth down and riseth not. He is not like some building, which
when ruined may be re-erected; nor like fallen fruit, that may be gathered
up; but like water, which mingles with the soil and cannot be laid hold of.
He mixes with the earth, and cannot raise himself, nor be raised by his
fellows. He passes away and returns not. Look at the churchyard, there is
the water spilt on the ground. Look at earth's battlefield, there is the water
spilt. Look at the depths of ocean, which have swallowed up tens of
thousands, there is the water spilt. Not one drop has yet been gathered up
of all that has been spilt since the world began, save one drop, one
precious drop,—even Him who saw no corruption. No grave has given up
its dust. Each slumbering atom lies till the great morning. We may walk
among and weep over them, and raise monuments with names and
epitaphs, but we cannot gather them up. There they remain till He comes,
who is the resurrection and the life, to put forth His hand and take up each
forgotten particle.
III.
God doth not respect persons. In His sight all are alike, as sinners,
as creatures, as sons of Adam, as dying men,— young or old, low or high.
He cannot be bribed to spare. He accepteth no man's person. The sickbed
and the death-bed are spread for all. The tomb opens for all; the simple
turf it may be, or some rich marble monument, but still it is a tomb, a
receptacle for human bones and dust. No ornaments can make it
otherwise. Thou must die, is the recorded sentence, and God makes no
exceptions.
IV.
He deviseth means for the restoration of His banished. He is
righteous, and will not palliate sin, nor repeal His sentence.
Yet He does not leave us without hope. Mark here,
1.
His banished. We are God's banished ones, no longer in our
father's house or the king's palace, cast out like Adam from Paradise, or
Cain from God's presence, or Absalom from Jerusalem, or Israel from
Canaan. Sin has done it all. The brand of exile is upon us; it is God
himself who has banished us. Elsewhere we are described as prodigals
leaving our Father's house, here as criminals banished from His presence.
O man, thou art an exile! Perhaps thou dost not feel thy loneliness, thou
hast got familiarised with the place of exile, nevertheless thou art a
banished man, banished from Him who made thee and in whose favour is
life.
2.
God's love to the banished. He has expressed His displeasure
against their rebellion by banishing them, yet He has not forgotten them.
He pities them, yearns over them, beckons them back. Distance has not
erased their names from his paternal heart. No other may pity them, but
he does. The Father sees his prodigals in the far off country; their misery,
loneliness of heart, weariness, call forth his pity. He stretches out his
hands, and the words of his lips are, "Come unto me," return, return.
3.
God's design to restore them. He has a purpose of grace. The good
pleasure of his goodness shews itself in a gracious design, a plan of
mingled sovereignty and goodwill, righteousness and grace. He has
resolved that they shall not remain afar off. His purpose shall stand.
4.
His means for this. These are not stated here, but the Bible is the
revelation of these. He spares not His Son, but sends Him in quest of the
exiles. He comes into the land of banishment, lies in an exile's cradle,
becomes a banished man for them, lives a banished life, endures an exile's
shame, dies an exile's death, is buried in an exile's tomb. He takes our
place of banishment that we may take His place of honour and glory in the
home of His Father and our Father. Such is the exchange between the exile
and the exile's divine substitute. Though rich, for our sakes He becomes
poor. Though at home, He comes into banishment, that we may not be
expelled forever. And here, in connection with our restoration through a
substitute, there are three questions.
(1.) Will the Father accept a substitute? Yes, He will; nay, He has. His
purpose of grace has been carried out by His providing the Substitute. He
has sent His Son! He has sent Solomon to seek Absalom, to bear
Absalom's penalty. He has not spared His Son that He may spare us.
(2.) Is the Son willing to become a substitute? Will Solomon quit
Jerusalem and David's palace, and take the place of the banished
Absalom? He will. Nay, He has done it. He has come down in quest of us.
He has borne our sins.
(3.) Are you willing to take this substitute? He has come. He offers the
exchange. Give me thy guilt and take my righteousness. Thou rebellious
son, thou banished Absalom, thou hater of thy heavenly Father and
conspirer against His government, wilt thou not return? Thy Father's heart
yearns over thee, He longs to have thee back. Return, return! If not, He
weeps over thee as over Jerusalem; and when thou diest He cries out, O
Absalom, my son, my son.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 13:39:03 GMT -5
XXXI.
The Farewell Gift
"And it came to pass, when they were gone over, that Elijah said
unto Elisha, Ask what I shal do for thee, before I be taken away
from thee. And Elisha said, I pray thee, let a double portion of thy
spirit be upon me. And he said, Thou hast asked a hard thing:
nevertheless, if thou see me when I am taken from thee, it shal be
so unto thee; but if not, it shal not be so. And it came to pass, as
they sti l went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot
of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah
went up by a whirlwind into heaven."—
2 Kings 2:9-11
THIS is the parting of two friends; of the master and the servant, Elijah
and Elisha. They journey together, they cross Jordan together, they come
up to the gate of heaven together. They must separate; the one to go up to
heaven, the other to remain a little longer here. They part, not in anger
like Paul and Barnabas, but like David and Jonathan,— in love. Elijah
speaks first, and his love to his faithful companion shews itself in the
words, "Ask what I shall do for thee before I be taken away from thee."
All that he possesses, all that is in his power, he will give.
But Elisha's request goes beyond what he had expected, or what he could
grant. "Thou hast asked a hard thing," a thing beyond my power to give; a
thing which only God can give. I must refer you to him; but I am
permitted to give you this sign, "if you see me when taken;" that is to be
the token that God grants your request; if not, then the request cannot be
granted.
The sign was given. Elisha saw his master ascend; nay, was allowed to
obtain the mantle of his master, in token of his receiving his spirit. And
acknowledging this sign, he rends his own clothes into two parts, as if
putting his former self aside and putting on Elijah.
But the request of Elisha is a striking one. It was not what Elijah expected
or could grant; but it was in sympathy with his own feelings, and he
therefore referred it to God. It was for the Spirit,—that Spirit that rested
on and dwelt in Elijah,—nay, a double portion of that Spirit. He admired
and loved his master; and his desire was to be like him; nay, to get beyond
him; to rise higher; to do and say greater things than Elijah said or did.
In this narrative we find, in Elisha, the indication of such things as the
following:—
I.
Spiritual sympathy. He is of one mind and spirit with his master.
He has been witness of his life and doings; he sees the spirit which has
pervaded all his words and deeds; not merely the spirit of power and
miracles, but of holiness, and zeal, and prayerfulness, and boldness.
Sympathising with all these, he longs to have the same mind; to be filled
with the same spirit. How well for us if our sympathies were thus with the
men in whom the Spirit of God dwells or has dwelt in ages past! Not with
this world, nor with the spirit of the world, but with the world to come,
and with the spirit of it, should our sympathies be. Not with the men of
the world's genius, or science, or learning; not with earth's poets or
philosophers; but with prophets and apostles. Whatever there is of truth
and beauty in Homer, or Plato, or Demosthenes, or Shakespeare, or
Bacon, or Milton, or Wordsworth, or Tennyson, let us accept; but let our
spiritual sympathies ascend far higher; let us realise our true oneness with
Enoch, and Elijah, and Elisha, and Isaiah, and Ezekiel; our fellowship
with that Holy Spirit which dwelt in them. The sympathies of this age are
confessedly not with prophets and apostles. These are looked on as
fragments of obsolete antiquity and old-fashioned narrowmindedness. Let
us, however, go back to these ancient times and men, not concerned to be
"abreast of the age" if we be "abreast" of the Spirit.
II.
Holy imitativeness. His desire is to be like Elijah. He wishes not
merely to have "the Spirit," but "thy spirit," the spirit that dwelt in Elijah.
To be like him in the divine features of his character; like him in the
possession of the Spirit and in that special form in which he possessed it;
this was what he sought. There is certainly but one great model; but there
are subordinate ones also. Paul said, "Be followers of me," and the
eleventh of Hebrews is a collection of models, a book of patterns, in each
of which we may find something to copy. While copying Christ, then, let
us not overlook the inferior models, either among the inspired men of
Bible-days, or the uninspired worthies of later times. May the spirit of
Elijah, and Paul, and John rest on us; the spirit also of Wycliffe and Huss,
of Luther and Calvin, of Knox, and Welsh, and Rutherford, and
Whitefield, and M'Cheyne, and Hewitson.
III.
Divine ambition. Elijah was not only full of admiration for his
master, not only wished to be like him, but desired to get far beyond him.
He asked a "double portion" of his spirit. This is true ambition; this is
coveting earnestly the best gifts of which Paul speaks, and in connection
with which he points out the more excellent way of "charity," in which
especially Elisha seems to have risen higher than his master, Elisha's
ministry being more one of love than Elijah's. In such things as these let
us be ambitious. There is no fear of aiming too high or seeking too much.
Let us not give way to the false humility which says, "Oh that we had but
the hundredth part of what Elijah had!" Let us rather at once, with Elisha,
seek to have far more. Let us seek a double portion of his spirit. This is
true humility. It is desiring to be what God wishes us to be. It is honouring
his fullness and his generosity. It is acknowledging the extent of blessing
in reserve; reckoning on it as quite illimitable, and therefore not confining
ourselves to what others have had before us, but going up into the divine
fullness, for far more than has ever yet been obtained even by the fullest.
Quiet expectation. He speaks and acts like one who fully expected to get
what he asked. Elijah had referred him to God for "the hard thing" he had
asked; it was in God's hand alone. "It is not mine to give" (as if
anticipating the Lord's words). Elisha owns the divine sovereignty, and is
calm; but he realises the divine love, and expects. He believes, and
therefore does not make haste, but goes quietly on beside his master to
see the end. He believes, and therefore he assures himself that God is not
likely to be less gracious than his master, nor to deny him what Elijah
would gladly give if he could. Let us believe! Have faith in God. Trust
Him for much, for he is able to do for us exceeding abundantly above all
we ask or think.
Conscious possession. He accepts the sign: he sees the prophet caught
up; he seizes his mantle, and returns by the way he came, conscious of
having received the "double portion." He believes, and therefore he speaks
and acts. The sign promised has been given; can he doubt that the thing
promised is also given? He may have nothing new in feeling to
corroborate it, but that matters not. He has it in simple faith in the bare
word of the true God. The "double portion" is mine, he says to himself;
and he goes back to exercise his prophetical calling, in the calm
consciousness of possessing more than his master did. What is Jordan to
him now? A stroke of the mantle divides it; and henceforth his life is to
be one of mighty and gracious miracle. Let us speak and act as men who
believe that God fulfils His word to us. Let us trust that word when we
use it. There is more in it than in Elijah's mantle. It is living and divine.
Let us not blunt or deaden it by our want of confidence in its power
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 13:41:38 GMT -5
XXXII.
God's Dealing With Sin And The Sinner
"Er, the first-born of Judah, was evil in the sight of the Lord, and he slew
him." —
1 Chronicles 2:3
HERE we have, in one brief sentence, a statement of the way in which God
deals with sin and the sinner. It is the repetition of a verse in Genesis, in a
very unlikely place,—in the midst of names and genealogies; God thus
giving us to know the stress He lays on it. It is not for nothing that He thus
repeats it. Such clauses as this, flung in apparently by chance, or what is
called the transcriber's taste, are full of meaning. This certainly contains a
very distinct and awful utterance.
Looking at it generally, we may say that it brings out, in a very
outstanding and unambiguous form, such things as these:—
I.
God's estimate of sin. It differs widely from man's. It is the
Judge's estimate; not the physician's merely, or the father's. It is one of
condemnation. It is not simply disease, or misfortune, or an accidental
deviation from the straight line; but guilt, which must be reckoned for
according to inexorable law. Sin, in the divine judgment, is not something
vague, and loose, and shadowy, but well-defined and substantial. It is not
a thing of sentiment or feeling, but a thing to be determined by the sharp
test of unchanging law,—law interpreted by an inflexible tribunal, and
applied by an infinitely righteous Judge, without respect of persons;
without fear, or favour, or partiality; without the remotest risk of mistake,
or possibility of miscarriage of justice.
II.
God's treatment of sin. He does not merely pronounce a sentence
or verdict, without meaning to carry it out. His deeds correspond with his
words. He hates sin; He tells us this; He treats it accordingly. His
treatment of it is—
(1.) Prompt. Though he does bear with the sinner, yet this patience is not
at variance with the promptitude. He is both patient and prompt; yet is he
not hasty. It does not take him unawares, nor shew him as if at a loss how
to deal with it. He is always ready to meet it and deal with it, whether
open or secret, greater or less.
(2.) Decided. He does not trifle with it, as if undecided how to proceed, or
hesitating as to what sentence to pronounce. There may be, for wise and
gracious reasons, some delay; but the delay does not arise from any want
of decision, any changeableness or instability. He is altogether decided in
words and ways. "He is in one mind, and who can turn him?"
(3.) Severe. "The Lord slew him"; that is, struck him down, cut him off
by a violent death. He did not die the death of men, but perished like
Korah. God made a fearful example of him before the eyes of his
brethren; though what it was we know not. When God arises to smite, he
is infinitely terrible in his vengeance. He is in earnest; and he punishes in
earnest, when his wrath is kindled but a little.
(4.) Watchful. His eye is on the wicked, his eyelids try the children of
men. Nothing escapes him. No sin, however small, is overlooked. Though
fury is not in him, yet he is watchful.
His eyes are as a flame of fire.
But it is not sin merely that God would have us consider here.
It is the sinner specially. For this non-information as to the sin (we are not
told what the sin was) seems to be for the purpose of making prominent
the sinner. And then the reticence as to the personal history of the sinner,
fixes our eye on the other circumstances thus brought out in relief.
He is a first-born son. To him would pertain peculiar honour, and in him
would centre peculiar expectation. Yet he is slain— slain by God. How
often do we thus find the natural order broken in upon, and human hope
frustrated! It was so in Cain; it was so in Esau. Sin breaks up all order,
and disappoints all hope. Were it not for sin, the river of human order
(family and social) would flow on undisturbed.
He is the first-born of Judah. "Judah, thou art he whom thy brethren
shall praise." Judah, in God's purpose, is already the royal tribe; and this
sinner, slain by God for his wickedness, is the first of the royal line, the
first link in Messiah's royal chain. As Esau and Reuben had been set aside
because of their sin, so is Er. Sin breaks the line; and the blow that severs
it is dealt by God himself. "Jehovah slew him," because "he was wicked in
the sight of the Lord." And if any one say, "Why doth he yet find fault, for
who hath resisted his will?" our answer is, "Nay but, O man, who art thou
that repliest against
God?"
Yes, God is not afraid to break Messiah's line. He can rectify the breakage
in His own way, but rather than that sin should go unpunished, He does
not hesitate to break that line; to set aside Judah's first-born. So in finitely
does God hate sin!
But there is something yet more remarkable. The broken link was to be
refastened by the permission of sin as great as that which had broken it:
the triple sin, first of Onan, then of Judah, then of Tamar! How
mysterious! "How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past
finding out!" What a strange fragment of human history is this breaking
and this mending of Messiah's royal line! "Oh the depth of the riches,
both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!" See how He hates sin; how
He smites the sinner; how He does not spare even the first-born of
Messiah's tribe! Yet see how His purpose stands! And see how He can
make use of sin for remedying the breaches which sin makes! What a God
is ours! So righteous, so wise, so powerful, so loving and gracious!
But how terrible the lesson regarding sin! God cannot pass it by. On
whomsoever found, it must be punished. Even when God's purpose is to
remedy it, it must be punished; first punished before it can be remedied,
lest men should make light of it, or think that God is trifling with it.
Yes; and when sin is at last found (though but by imputation) upon His
well-beloved Son, it must be punished.
He must die. Yet He dies only to live; and he lives that we may live also.
Judah's royal Son, David's Lord, is our Redeemer from sin.
Jesus, the true "first-born of Judah," he whom "his Brethren shall praise,"
was "made sin for us;" though not "evil in the sight of the Lord," but good,
—his beloved Son, "in whom he is well pleased,"—he was treated as evil,
and slain of the Lord; "made a curse for us," though he was the blessed
One; for "it pleased the Lord to bruise him, and to put him to grief." Thus
He takes our evil as if it were His own; and we get His good as if it were
our own. God dealt with Him on our account as if He were evil, not good;
God deals with us on account of Him as if we were good and not evil. God
slew Him, that He might not slay us. God condemned Him, that He might
pardon us. We listen to God's testimony concerning Him, and, in listening,
we drink in the everlasting life.
Nor only life, but glory; royal glory. For in receiving that testimony we
are grafted into Judah's royal line. We become part of "the church of the
first-born. "We inherit a kingdom. Ours is David's palace, and David's
city, and David's heritage. Ours is the better Canaan; the new Jerusalem;
the throne and crown of the Son of God. We are joint-heirs with Him in
His royal glory; sharers in His holy reign.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 16:46:16 GMT -5
XXXIII.
God Finding A Resting-Place
1 Chronicles 21:1-30
THERE is something very peculiar about this fragment or episode of
Israel's history. It is abrupt, and in a manner isolated, though not wholly
so. It has also some very remarkable points about it. It is the introduction
to the history of the temple. It shews the way in which David was led to
Moriah as the temple site, and to Oman's thrashingfloor as the place for
the altar of burnt-offering. It was through David's sin and punishment that
God pointed out the "rest" which He had chosen, and the spot where He
had purposed to place His name (2 Chronicles 3:1). Thus God overrules
human sin; nay, takes occasion from it to display His grace. It was their
king's sin that was the link between Israel and Moriah, between Israel and
the temple, between Israel and the place of burnt-offering. Strange this,
but suitable and striking. It is sin that is, in one sense, the link, or at least
the point, of contact between us and Jesus.
There is this peculiarity also about the spot: it was the place of division
between death and life, between condemnation and pardon, between
pestilence and health. All up to this point was judgment; but here the
sword stayed. This hill, this thrashing-floor, stood between the living and
the dead. Such is really the character of the temple and the altar. Here life
begins, and death is stayed. All up to this is death and vengeance; that
temple was the shield of the world.
There is also this peculiarity. The spot where the plague stayed was
Gentile, not Jewish ground. It was the property of a Jebusite—the last heir
of the Jebusite kings (2 Samuel 24:23, "Araunah the king"); perhaps of
Melchizedek; so that thus Moriah passes from Melchizedek to David. It
was on Jebusite or Gentile ground that the angel of judgment sheathed his
sword, and Israel's temple was erected. How much of that temple was
Gentile, not Jewish! The ground, the cedars, the gold, and silver, and brass
(1 Chronicles 18:7,11), the workmen were Gentile; all but the stones,
which were Jewish. Israel was thus to learn that the Gentile had an
interest in these courts. The Gentile could say, That rock is mine, that gold
is mine, that cedar-wood is mine, that workmanship is mine. Yes; in that
temple all nations meet with one another, and meet with God. One in
Christ, was the teaching of the temple, as well as of the cross.
Let us further notice, that it was in connection with the numbering of
Israel that the temple-site came to be fixed. God's special promise to
Abraham was, that his seed should be as the sand of the sea and the stars
of heaven; and now, when this promise is abused, and made a minister of
pride, the judgment comes because of it; and yet, out of the judgment
comes the voice which says, "This is my rest." The point of the destroying
sword (not a voice from the glory) marks the temple; its flash reveals the
long-appointed spot. That temple was to be a seal and pledge of Israel's
numbers without number—"the fountain of Israel."
Let us further notice, that it was in connection with the common
occupations of life that this revelation of the templesite was made. "Oman
and his sons were thrashing wheat" at the time when the angel came, and
his sword stayed at the thrashing-floor. They had no share in David's sin
and Israel's punishment, and they were not alarmed at the pestilence. They
were not clad in sackcloth, like David and the elders. They were not on
their knees, but engaged in the common duties of the day. God finds them
at the thrashing-floor, and blames them not. Nay, He honours them and
their employment; He honours that piece of ground where they were
working, by turning it from a thrashing-floor into an altar. Let no man be
ashamed of his honest trade, or think that God will not meet with him in
the midst of it. Oman's flail was not a mean thing in the eyes of God.
Let us notice again, that this ground was bought at its price by David for
Israel. There are only two spots which thus passed by purchase into
Jewish hands, Machpelah and Moriah,—the one for burial-place, the other
for a temple; the one bought by Abraham, the other by David. Of all the
rest of the land Israel took possession, as God's gift, without money and
without price. Strange that, for a spot on which to fix the symbols of
resurrection and reconciliation, Israel (in the persons of Abraham and
David) must pay the full price!—as if to remind them that, in both cases,
it was by ransom that the blessing was reached—"a ransom for the sins of
many," "I will ransom them from the grave."
One thing more we notice, this fixing of the temple-site had nothing to do
with the tabernacle, or the ark, or the priesthood, or the Urim and
Thummim. There was a break between them. The ark was on Zion, and
the tabernacle (at this time) was at Gibeon, and it was not to the high
priest that God made this new revelation, but to David, and Gad, and the
elders of Israel. There was much in the temple that was a repetition or
fuller development of the tabernacle, there was much in it that was new.
The tabernacle was linked with Levi; the temple, in great measure, with
Judah. It is the king, not the priest, that builds the house. God asks the
help of David, and Solomon, and Nehemiah, and Zerubbabel, and such
civil governors in the maintenance of His worship. Their giving it honours
them, and defiles not the temple of God. God, in his sovereignty, led the
ark about to Gilgal, Shiloh, Kirjath-jearim, Zion; and now that His
purpose is served, He sets it aside, and chooses a new site for His place of
worship; and that place no longer a tent, but a temple; no longer
connected with priesthood only, but with royalty as well; no longer frail
and moveable, like a pilgrim, but fixed and unchanging,—type of the
house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
Such is the end of the tabernacle-age. It began with Moses and ended with
David. It began with Sinai and ended with Zion. It began with the thunder
of the burning mountain and ended with the pestilence and the devouring
sword. A wondrous mixture all throughout of mercy and of judgment!
The temple-age ended in more awful judgment—the desolation of temple,
and city, and people. For man is always treasuring up wrath against
himself and ripening for the final stroke, "Evil men and seducers wax
worse and worse." "The end of all things is at hand; be ye therefore sober,
and watch unto prayer."
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 16:47:55 GMT -5
XXXIV.
The Moriah Group
1 Chronicles 21:1-30
WE have taken up some general aspects of this narrative, chiefly in
connection with the temple and Moriah; let us look at it from another
point of view. Let us see the different characters or persons in it. Each
comes out in a peculiar way.
I.
Satan. He is very explicitly spoken of here, as in Job and
elsewhere, as a person, a true being, not an influence. He is connected
with earth; not with its heathen kingdoms only, but with Judea. He is not
only in Babylon, but in Jerusalem; he has access not only to
Nebuchadnezzar, or Herod, or Nero, but to David. He is watchful; he lies
in wait for opportunities. He hated man at first in Paradise. He hates
David; he hates Israel; he hates God. "Resist the devil, and he will flee
from you." Be sober, be vigilant, for your adversary the devil walketh
about. He is powerful, cunning, subtle. He is that old serpent, the dragon,
the devil, Satan. He will go on with his wiles and malice till the Lord
comes to bind him.
II.
David. He is a man of God, yet of like passion; with others;
exposed to Satan. Mark—(1.) his sin: pride, ambition, selfaggrandising,—
like Nebuchadnezzar, "Is not this great Babylon?" (2.) His repentance
(ver. 8): his conscience is touched; he cries out of his "iniquity" and
"foolishness," even before the message of judgment came. (3.) His
chastisement and humiliation: he is smitten in the very point of his pride
— Israel's numbers; he clothes himself with sackcloth, and falls down
before God. (4.) His alarm (ver. 30): he knows not what to do,—the
tabernacle is in Gibeon, with the altar of burntoffering; what is he to do?
The sword is between him and it; and besides, it is busy at work, he has no
time to go to Gibeon. (5.) His forgiveness (ver. 26); he cannot go to God,
but God comes to him—to the spot where he is. He answers his sacrifice
by fire; this is forgiveness and acceptance. All is well; the light of God's
countenance has returned; the blood of the burnt-offering has done its
reconciling work; and on that spot where the blood was shed and the fire
came down, Israel's daily propitiation was to be offered up in all days to
come.
III.
Joab. He is a rough warrior, often rude in speech and stern in deed.
But he is a man of faith. He knows the law of the Lord, and he trembles at
his word. He knows that, for certain ends, it was a right thing to number
Israel; but here he sees this turned into evil, and used to cherish pride. He
remonstrates. His conscience is sensitive in this matter. He sees the sin
and the danger. He is bold also, not fearing the wrath of the king; but he is
obedient also. We have here the bright side of Joab's character, and learn
to think well of him, not only as one of David's mighty men, but as a man
of faith and conscience.
Gad. He and Nathan were David's seers,—his divine counsellors,—two
of his statesmen. It does not appear that David consulted Gad about this
numbering; or, if he did, he heeded not his advice any more than that of
Joab. But now Gad is sent from God to the king. He was, no doubt, a man
in communion with God, and was waiting to know the divine will in
secret. God comes to him, and gives him his message. It is a twofold one.
(1.) Judgment (ver. 10): offering the king his choice of woes. (2.) Of
mercy (ver. 18): commanding the altar to be built, a symbol of divine
pacification,—forgiveness for David and for Israel through the blood.
The Elders (ver. 16). They acknowledge the stroke and the sin: "It is the
Lord." They clothe themselves in sackcloth, they fall upon their faces. So
far as we know, they had not shared David's sin, yet they at once place
themselves by his side in confession and humiliation. David had sinned
(ver. 8), Israel had sinned (2 Samuel 24:1). They identify themselves with
both. It is thus that we should take up a rulers sin, or a brother's sin, or a
nation's sin; not blazoning it abroad in private gossip, or in the
newspapers, but taking it on ourselves, and carrying it to God.
VI.
Oman. A Gentile, a Jebusite, a king (2 Samuel 24:23), owner of
Moriah. He is quietly working with his sons, apparently ignorant of what
was going on, till he is alarmed by the angel (ver. 20), and astonished by
David's visit. He was a believing man, acknowledging not the gods of the
Jebusites, but the Lord God of Israel; a generous man, handing over to
David freely his own ancestral possessions. He is honoured by God; his
land is honoured. He loses his property in the land, but for a marvellous
honour. The history of his thrashing-floor is interesting; probably it is the
great rock, to this day, under the great mosque. In the temple, in the altar,
in the rock, Oman is held in everlasting remembrance.
VII.
The Angel. There are specially three destroying angels mentioned
in the Old Testament: he who was sent to Egypt to inflict the plagues; he
who was sent to the Assyrian host to slay its myriads; he who was sent to
Israel to slay the 70,000. He is the messenger of wrath and vengeance; he
comes directly from God; he is like one of those seven spoken of in the
Revelation, that sound the trumpets, or of those who pour out the vials; or
like him who launched the symbolic millstone against Babylon the great.
Yet, in the case before us, he utters mercy as well as inflicts judgment. He
is terrible in his might; yet he bears the message of forgiveness,—the
forgiveness of Him who is able to save and to destroy.
VIII.
Jehovah himself. He shews himself as the hater of sin, and its
avenger, even in his saints. He has a watchful eye over all his people, to
bless and to chasten. He has Satan in control, and uses him at pleasure. He
has angels in command, and sends them on errands of judgment and
mercy. He is holy and righteous, yet pitiful and gracious, not only to
Jerusalem, but even to Nineveh. He smites, yet he spares. He chastises,
yet he blesses. His tender mercies are over all his works. He has no
pleasure in the death of the sinner. He is not willing that any should
perish, but that all should come to repentance.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 16:51:13 GMT -5
XXXV.
Diverse Kinds Of Conscience
"So did not I, because of the fear of God." —
Nehemiah 5:15
WHEN Joseph was dealing with his brethren he said, "This do, and live;
for I fear God" (Genesis 42:18). Such was Joseph's motive. When Colonel
Gardiner was challenged to fight a duel, he answered, "I fear sinning; you
know I do not test
fighting." Such was his motive. So when Nehemiah kept aloof from the
evil ways of others, he gave his reason, "So did not I, because of the fear
of God." Here, then, is Nehemiah's principle of action, both in what he did
and in what he did not do. The fear of God. This was the one thing that
kept him right and prevented his turning aside to the right or left. Of the
unrighteous it is said, The fear of God is not before his eyes; of the
righteous, The fear of God is before his eyes. This is the great feature of
difference between the two. It was this that operated, and influenced all
his proceedings, that moulded his life. He was, as we say, a God-fearing
man; and he shewed this in what he did and in what he did not do. He was
conscientious, not only as to actual duties, but as to responsibilities.
Here then we have true conscientiousness; not merely natural uprightness
of character, but the desire to have a conscience void of offence towards
God and man. It is conscientiousness arising from the sense of God's
presence, the wish to please Him, the fear of offending Him, the desire to
do all that is well-pleasing in His sight. As the love of Christ constraineth,
so the fear of God makes conscientious.
Are we thoroughly conscientious? Is our conscience constantly at work?
Not in the spirit of bondage or terror, but in that child-like gentleness and
tenderness of conscience that desires to have God's approbation in
everything we do and every word we speak. What a regulator to our life
and conscience would be this fear of God! Let us consider the different
spheres and operations of conscience. There is,
I.
The religious conscience. By this I mean the conscience
exercising itself in the things of religion, in religious belief and actings.
In our dealings with God, in the service of God, in our testimony for God,
let us be thoroughly conscientious, not formal, superficial, perfunctory,
but conscientious. If I act religiously simply because others do so, or
because it involves my good name, or because of habit, I am not acting
conscientiously. Let our religion mould our conscience, and let our
conscience penetrate and pervade our religion. I do not merely mean that
a religious man should be a conscientious man, but that he should carry
his conscientiousness into all that concerns religion. He should be alive,
not only to duty but to responsibility.
II.
The secular conscience. Though not of the world, we are still in
the world. We are hourly coming into contact with the world in public and
private. Every movement of our daily life comes, more or less, into
contact with the world; it may be collision, or it may be intercourse and
mutual help in common things; let us in all these be thoroughly
conscientious, in what we do or in what we abstain from doing. Never let
the world say of us, in reference to either word or deed, There goes a
religious man without a conscience. In all secular and social things let us
manifest a conscientious spirit, and shew to others that the fear of God is
before our eyes. Let that fear regulate our daily intercourse and walk. Let
a sense of responsibility toward God and our fellow men be ever on
edge.
III.
The commercial conscience. By this I mean conscience throwing
itself into all our business transactions, our buying or our selling, our
giving or receiving, our bargains, our speculations, whether merchant,
lawyer, banker, farmer, tradesman, mechanic, or whatever our worldly
calling may be. Let us take counsel with conscience continually. Let the
fear of God be before our eyes in the counting-house, the shop, the
warehouse, the market, or wherever our calling may place us. Hard-driven
bargains, advantage taken of men's necessities, grinding of the poor, over
charges, unjust measures, dishonest statements as to goods sold or
purchased,—these are not things into which conscience can enter. Let
every man of business, on whatever scale, be out and out conscientious,
having the fear of God before his eyes.
The family conscience. Into each circle of life, outer and inner,
conscience must enter. The fear of God must reign in the family. We must
be conscientious in our family dealings, making each member of it feel
that we are acting in the fear of God. Let us be conscientious in our family
rules, at our family table, in our treatment of our children, and in their
education. Be conscientious with them and before them. Never let them
say that we do an unconscientious deed. Conscience says to each father
and mother, Train up your child in the way he should go. Oh, be
conscientious with your children! They know what conscience is, how
conscience operates and shews itself. Let the fear of God be stamped on
all family arrangements. Servants, be conscientious to your masters, and
masters, to your servants.
The private conscience. I must make conscience of all my individually
private actings. I must be conscientious in all personal things, when alone,
unheard, unseen. I must be conscientious in my closet as well as in my
family. I must be conscientious about my solitary, hidden actions. The
fear of God must fill every chamber of my heart. I must be upright before
myself and before God.
VI. The local conscience. I must be conscientious everywhere, at home or
abroad. I must carry my conscience with me when I travel, just as when I
was at home. I read sometimes of Christian travellers spending their
Sabbath in sight-seeing? I find that some think it no evil to climb mount
Sinai or mount Hermon on the Sabbath because these are sacred scenes.
They would not climb Snowdon or Ben Lomond, but they would climb
these foreign mountains! What sort of local conscience is this? Ought not
a Christian to carry his conscience into every place, and when tempted to
do abroad on the Sabbath what he would not do at home, to be able to say,
"This did not I, because of the fear of God."
Cultivate a tender conscience, an enlightened conscience, a conscience
void of offence; not morbid, or diseased, or crooked, or one-sided, or
censorious, or supercilious, or proud. But simple, and bold, and sensitive.
Beware of a blunted or seared conscience. Shun compromises where
principle is concerned; they always leave a stain upon the conscience. Let
the fear of God reign in you always and everywhere. Beware of the fear of
man. Cultivate the fear of God. The gospel, as well as the law, makes
demands on your conscience. Conscience speaks to you in the name of
Jesus Christ as well as in that of God.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 16:54:31 GMT -5
XXXVI.
The Soul Turning From Man To God
"Behold now, I have ordered my cause; I know that I shal be
justified. Who is he that wil plead with me? for now, if I hold my
tongue, I shal give up the ghost." —
Job 13:18,19
THIS is the utterance of a justified man, and of one who knew that he was
justified, and was prepared to defend his position as such against all
accusers.
Job's declaration here may primarily be the assertion of his innocence
against the accusations of his friends. But we may use it for something
beyond this.
We do great injustice to the Old Testament saints and to their privileges,
and no less so to the God who made them what they were, when we
conceive of them as possessing an imperfect justification, or an imperfect
and uncertain knowledge of their justification. Paul's declaration was
explicit on this point: "I know whom I have believed"; and yet it was not a
jot more explicit than that of Job: "I know that my Redeemer liveth."
When Paul said, "It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth?" he
was only speaking what Job had spoken ages before: "I know that I shall
be justified.
Who is he that will plead with me?'
In connection with the words of our text, let us note the following
passages: Psalm 32:1,5, Isaiah 50:7-9, 51:12, Romans 8:31,34, 1 John 1:9.
In all these we have the same truth, the same tone, the same confidence,
the same assurance, and the same source or channel for the flowing of all
these into the soul. The old and the new are alike. We cannot say either
the old is better or the new is better; both are good, and both are the same.
In both we have the utterance of the one creed of the church, and the voice
of the one Spirit, the Spirit of adoption, through the one Redeemer.
In our text (along with the context on both sides), we have the expression
of an old saint's feelings in reference to man and to God. He has no hope
from man, but he has all hope from God. One would have expected the
opposite. Imperfect man might be expected to bear with an imperfect
fellow man; but can a perfect God be expected to do this? Yet it is on God
that he falls back; and the infinitely holy, all-searching God is felt to be a
surer refuge for a sinner than unholy, sin-excusing man. Such must be the
spirit of our dealings with God. His holiness and His omniscience are not
only no discouragements, but the opposite. He knows the very worst of us,
and He hates it; yet He pities us. We cannot tell Him worse of ourselves
than He knows already. And is not this encouragement! Man's narrow
heart makes us despair of him; God's infinite heart gives us hope. Have
we not often been comforted with the thought that God knew us fully? Let
us then mark the feelings or attitude of a saint towards God.
I.
Misconfidence. "I know that I shall be justified." It is no mere
hope, or peradventure; it is a certainty. It is of this that Paul speaks, "We
are made partakers of Christ, if we hold the beginning of our confidence
stedfast." This was the attitude of Old Testament saints, much more that
of New. It is the feeling of the child; it is simple trustfulness, for
everything, beginning with pardon.
II.
It is confidence as a sinner. Job speaks as a sinner, simply as such,
not as a better man than others. He goes to God simply as such; and he
trusts as such. He realises this blessed truth that a man's evil is no reason
for distrusting God. When Adam fled from God, he did not know this; he
thought that his sin was a reason for distrusting and flying from God, till
God taught him differently, and shewed him what grace was.
III.
It is confidence arising from God's character alone. He has looked
into the face of God, and learned there that a sinner may trust Him, just
because of what He is; nay, that a sinner can only glorify Him by trusting
Him because of what He is. It is not only because of His grace that He
trusts; but because of His holiness and power; for these are no longer
against the sinner; but on his side. Everything in God's character, has by
the cross of Christ been turned into a reason for trusting Him. The more
man knows of Him the more he trusts. Trust is the natural and inseparable
response of the soul to the divine revelation of the character of God. It is
not what man sees in himself, of his good deeds or good feelings, of his
graces, or his repentance, or his regeneration, or his faith; but what he
sees in God, that calls out confidence.
It is confidence of personal justification. "I know that I shall be
justified." It is no vague confidence in some unknown God; some
sentimental trust in God's universal fatherhood, or mankind's universal
sonship. It is of personal justification that he speaks; thus acknowledging
personal condemnation in the first place; and then, as the result of a
judicial act, personal justification. It is of this that the whole Bible
speaks; it is this that the cross seals to us. This is not a state in which we
are born; but into which we come by believing in Him who was delivered
for our offences, and was raised again for our justification. Do you know
this? Is this the beginning of your religion, the starting-point of your
heavenward course?
It is confidence in spite of al accusers. From verse 20 to verse 27 Job
is pleading with God, confessing sin, and uttering confidence. In verse 28,
and next chapter, he turns to man as his accuser. Who is he? A man that
shall die. What matter his accusations? Let the whole world condemn,
what matters it? Shall this shake a confidence resting on the word and
name of God? Let Satan and conscience accuse; shall they shake a
confidence which comes from above? Let their charges be all true, what
of this? "Who is he that condemneth?" "Who shall lay anything to the
charge of God's elect?" We plead guilty to the accusations, but not with
the less confidence do we claim an acquittal from the Judge, simply on
the ground of what our Surety has done.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 17:03:30 GMT -5
XXXVII.
Man's Dislike Of A Present God
"They say unto God, Depart from us; for we desire not the knowledge of
thy ways." —
Job 21:14
THE men who speak thus are not atheists. They do not say there is no
God. They may be scoffers, blasphemers, ungodly, but they are not
atheists. They whom Job describes are worldly men. The world, with its
riches, its possessions, its pleasures, its friendships, is their all. They have
nothing beyond it, and they do not wish anything beyond it. They are
satisfied. They love the world, and are resolved to make the best of it that
they can. When anything comes in between it and them, or threatens to
prevent their enjoying it, such as pain, or sickness, or death, they thrust it
away. They do not ask, whether the intervention may not, after all, be true
and important; it mars their enjoyment of the world, and so must not be
for a moment entertained.
In our text we have worldliness versus God. For it is worldliness that is
here speaking out. It is not man contending against man because of injury
or encroachment, it is not man protesting against pain, or mortality, or life
s brevity, it is man protesting against God. God seems to him as a dark
shadow overclouding all his joy. How is this?
I.
Not because God has injured him. He does not pretend that any
wrong has been done or threatened to be done. He does not speak as an
injured man, nor plead against God because of injustice.
II.
Not because God hates him. He has no reason to conclude such a
thing, either from what God has said or done. He cannot point to any mark
of hatred.
III.
Not because God has interfered with his prosperity. He is
evidently a prosperous man, mighty in power, neither is the rod of God
upon him (verses 7 and 9). It is not because of these things that he says to
God, Depart from us. Indeed, he does not hide his reason altogether, "we
desire not the knowledge of thy ways." He has no liking for God or his
ways, he looks on him as an obstruction, an unpleasant visitor, a dark
cloud, a spoiler of his pleasure.
But these worldly men in Job's time were but a specimen of the men of
many ages,—our own as well as others. In these different ages we find a
variation in the feeling and in its expression. Sometimes there is more of
infidelity in it, or even direct atheism, sometimes less. But in all there is a
desire to get quit of God, God personally, though perhaps not God
abstractly; to thrust him into a corner of his universe, where he will least
disturb the children of men. In the present day we find this state of feeling
widely spread and working, not only in the world but in the church. Men
who call themselves Christians lend themselves to the outcry, "Depart
from us." At the bottom of all this feeling is the love of the world. It is
this that prompts men to seek to get quit of God.
I.
They try to get quit of Himself. They tolerate Him afar off, but
not near. They tolerate a religion of uncertainty, but not one of certainty,
or fellowship, or conscious nearness. They would let Him alone, if He
would let them alone; but if not, they raise the cry, "Depart." An
abstraction, a creed, a system of theology, they bear with, because it does
not interfere with their worldliness; but God Himself can only be
tolerated as a shadowy, impalpable, far distant being. To anything else
they say, "depart."
II.
They try to get quit of His Christ. Some superhuman being, such
as Paganism delighted in, they tolerate; but not the Christ of God, the
Word made flesh. A Christ that will assist them in their great endeavour
to keep God at a distance they will admire and sing of; but the Christ that
brings God near, that makes His love a reality, and His favour and
forgiveness a certainty, they cannot away with.
III.
They try to get quit of His Spirit. They dislike the supernatural,
and do not wish to hear of a world outside their own, from which
influences and operations are continually coming to modify things here,
or transform men, or protest against sin. The Holy Spirit, as the special
expression and representative of the supernatural and divine, in
connection with man's nature and soul, they either refuse to believe in, or
treat him as a mere afflatus, a breath, an influence.
They try to get quit of His book. The Bible is God's visible
representative and commissioner here. It is the silent protest in every
house in favour of God. And hence it is set aside by many, or only read for
its poetry, its morality, its antiquity. To believe as little of it as possible is
the object of multitudes; to cast doubt upon its authenticity; to reject its
inspiration,—to treat it as not a book for this advanced age,— these are
the ways in which men are seeking to get rid of God's book.
They try to get quit of His law. They say it was not for us but for the Jews;
they tell us that the morality of Socrates was higher than that of Moses;
they (in a more refined fashion) speak of it as buried in the grave of
Christ; so that we have got quit of its exactions and sanctions. No Sabbath
for us; the law is dead! No restraint on us; the law is dead!
Thus the age tries to get quit of God. It does so, because it dreads Him; it
has no relish for Him; His presence is a gloomy shadow; His nearness
would interfere with all worldly schemes and pleasures. Therefore men
say, "Depart." The old Pagans never said to Jupiter, Depart; for they
looked on him as in sympathy with their sins, and lusts, and pleasure. But
to the living and true God men say, Depart, because they feel that they
cannot have both Him and their sins. They cannot clothe Him with the
robes of their own worldliness.
Yet He has not departed. In love He lingers, seeking to bless. He knows
the blank His departure makes, and that nothing can fill it. Therefore He
lingers; yearning over the sons of men; entreating them to take Him for
their portion and all.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 17:04:24 GMT -5
XXXVIII.
True And False Consolation
"How then comfort ye me in vain, seeing in your answers there remaineth
falsehood?" —
Job 21:34
MAN needs consolation,—"man that is born to trouble;" specially a man
in Job's condition; overwhelmed with calamity. Not one day's consolation,
but many; nay, constant; for, what between the little cares and the large
sorrows of life, its ripples, and its waves, and its breakers, there is no day
exempt from trouble. Life has many burdens, heavy or light. But much
depends,
(1.) On the state of mind in which the calamity finds us, or produces in us.
Where irritation, murmuring, rebellion, and unbelief prevail, it is idle to
speak of consolation. We are not in a fit state to receive it. We repel the
hand and the medicine of the physician.
(2.) On the persons who administer it. If they are not thoroughly trusted or
respected; if they are suspected of selfishness, or insincerity, or
unkindness, their words are useless, perhaps worse.
(3.) On the kind of consolation administered. Sometimes it is hastily and
thoughtlessly poured in, or rather flung at us, as water is hastily snatched
up and flung over a flame to extinguish it. Sometimes the most
indiscriminate statements are made, and commonplace maxims uttered,
as if anything would suit anybody, or everything would suit everybody.
Much depends on these three things; as much on the last as any. In regard
to this let us mark what is not consolation; for man is skilful in
administering false consolation.
(1.) Sentimental saws are not consolation. These are often poured into the
ears of sorrow; but they are not medicine; they are only the relief found in
the intoxicating glass. Fine figures, poetical rhapsodies about the sorrows
of life, these are dangerous things, they soothe for an hour, that is all.
(2.) Appeals to natural self-love will not do. How commonly do we hear a
professed comforter reminding a sufferer of the multitude of his sorrows
in order to make him feel as a martyr. All that thus appeals to pride,
vanity, self, is worse than vain.
(3.) Taking refuge in fatalism will not do. "We must submit," is the
frequent language of the sufferer. This is not faith, but unbelief. It is man
feeling himself overpowered by a hand stronger than his own; not falling
back on love and wisdom.
(4.) Ascribing all to our own desert. Though there is truth in this, yet the
way in which it is generally done is wrong. "If I had not deserved it, it
would not have come." If we begin in this way, where shall we end? Our
deservings! What is their measure? Hell! Let us be thankful that it is not
according to our deservings that sorrow comes, but on a far higher
principle. A sorrow may point to the kind of sin, or the seat of sin, but no
sorrow of ours can measure the desert of sin; that is measured by the cross
and sorrow of Christ alone.
(5.) Betaking one's self to pleasure will not do. This is the most wretched
and perilous of opiates,—it is "strong drink," "mixed wine," which ruins
the soul while it makes us for a few hours forgetful of our sorrow. It is not
in pleasure that we are to drown our grief; no, nor yet in business.
There is a vast difference between real consolation and unreal; between
the true and the vain. It is of this that Job speaks. He needed consolation;
never man needed it more. He was thirsting for it. His friends came to
administer it; but they failed. How and why? Because "in their answers
there was falsehood." It was not the truth which they administered. There
can be no real consolation, then, which is not founded upon the truth. It is
the truth that comforts. There can be no consolation in a falsehood. A lie
may heal our hurt slightly, but not effectually. The water of truth from the
cup of truth can alone refresh, and heal, and console. That cup of truth is
ever full.
(1.) There must be the true interpretation of God's ways. We must see
their meaning, and bearing on us; what it is in us that they point to; and
what God's purpose is in sending the calamity. We have to deal honestly
both with ourselves and with God, asking what is God condemning in me?
What sin is he seeking to extirpate? What truth to communicate? What
scripture to illustrate?
(2.) There must be the true understanding and discrimination of our
circumstances. We must know ourselves; and so apply well each dealing of
the divine hand; tracing out the aim of each blow or each burden. The
sinner must not take hold of words that suit only the saint. There are words
for all. Let us apply wisely, else the consolation will be vain.
(3.) There must be the right knowledge of God's character. No
"consolation" or "answer" can be of any use which is not made to spring
out of this. God is wise, God is great, God is holy, God is love. We must
keep these things in mind in every dispensation.
It is the amount of truth we speak that is the measure of the consolation
imparted. It is not strong language nor soothing words that will do. Hence,
in the day of trouble we should deal much with Scripture and its words.
Then we are on sure ground. God's words are mighty for consolation; for
he is the God of all consolation. The exhibition of Christ and his fullness
is true consolation. The presentation of the Spirit as the Comforter,—the
Spirit and the Spirit's love, holy love,— this is true consolation. At all
times administer only truth, not error; but specially in the day of sorrow.
Falsehood is not consolation; it is not peace; it is not medicine, but
poison. Truth, the truth of God, that is consolation and strength.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 17:05:14 GMT -5
XXXIX.
Gain And Loss For Eternity
"For that is the hope of the hypocrite, though he hath gained, when God
taketh away his soul." —
Job 27:8
THE word "hypocrite" means properly the "ungodly," and corresponds to
the "wicked" and "unrighteous" of whom Job was speaking. To this
passage, probably, our Lord refers when he asks, "What shall it profit a
man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his soul?” Job asks, What
becomes of the vain hope of the ungodly when this life is done? Whatever
they may have of gain here, all is loss hereafter. This may be their "time
to get," but that shall be their "time to lose." And their loss is not for a
day, but forever.
It is not all gain with the godly here. Paul says, "For whom I have suffered
the loss of all things." He who casts in his lot with the people of God must
prepare for loss as well as gain. He must count the cost beforehand, and be
ready to pay it when the day comes for payment. There is the taking up of
our cross and the denying self, and forsaking all. He loses, (1.) This world:
whatever may be in it of pleasure, or satisfaction, or pomp, or gaiety, he
loses; for he cannot have both worlds; (2.) his name: perhaps he stood high
in reputation with the men of this world, and had a name for many things;
this he loses, for his name is cast out as evil; (3.) his religion: for the
likelihood is that he had a sort of religion or religiousness like Saul of
Tarsus; all this past religion of his must be left behind,—it will serve him
no more; (4.) his goods: this may not always be demanded to the full
extent, as in days of persecution; but still he must be prepared to part with
everything; counting it no more his own.
But his "hope" is never lost. He is "saved by hope"; his eye is on the
"things hoped for"; "he abounds in hope." This well never runs dry. This
treasure-house is never exhausted. Whatever of darkness there may rest
on his present, his future brightens with "hope"; and that hope "maketh
not ashamed"; it contains the incorruptible and everlasting. And even now
he has abundant compensation for loss and trial.
Not so the "ungodly." He has indeed a "hope," a hope of being saved, or, at
least, of not being lost; a hope of going to heaven, or, at least, of not going
to hell. But his hope is not "the good hope through grace." It is a self
originated hope; an unscriptural hope; a groundless and unreasonable
hope; a fallacious hope; a hope that will not be sickness
proof, nor deathbed proof; or if it be so, it perishes at death; it is wrapt up
in his shroud, and buried in his grave; for it there is no resurrection.
Thus the one thing which seemed gain to him, goes from him at death;
and all is loss, utter, infinite, irreparable, eternal loss! For him there is no
morning, but only night; night without a star, or even a meteor-gleam. His
losses cannot be enumerated or estimated, they are so many and so
terrible.
He loses such things as the following:—
I.
His soul. I might say his body too; for if the man be lost, then
soul and body are gone. But it is the soul that is the special and supreme
loss. The loss of that which moulders in the grave is after all subordinate,
but the loss of that which cannot die is great beyond measure. He who has
lost his soul is poor indeed. Yet in the case of the ungodly man that fearful
loss is incurred. He loses his soul. Not that the soul perishes or is
annihilated. That would be some relief to the poor doomed victim of sin.
The soul is lost, but cannot die. The loss of the soul consists in eternal
condemnation and ruin. All is gone for which the soul existed. It exists
now only for woe. Life is no longer life, for the soul cannot enjoy it. All
that constituted life, true life, in time or eternity, is gone. Life is now
become worse than death, for the soul is lost; lost in darkness, woe,
anguish, and an endless hell; lost from God, and goodness, and
blessedness, and from all holy beings forever and ever.
II.
Heaven. The future state and place of blessedness has many
names: a kingdom, an inheritance, a city, a new heaven. All of these are
names of joy. "Heaven" is a noble and glorious name, embodying in it all
that is excellent, and divine, and perfect. Its joy is perfect, its light is
perfect, its holiness is perfect. Its songs are perfect, its service is perfect.
It is day without night, it is the blessing without the curse. All this is lost
to the ungodly. What a loss must a lost heaven be! To be shut out from
such a kingdom, dispossessed of such an inheritance, nay, made the heir
of such sorrow and darkness,—how infinitely woeful! Think, O man,
amid all thy losses, past or prospective, what a lost heaven must be! A
lost kingdom, a lost city, a lost inheritance! Who can measure such a loss.
III.
Christ. Yes, Christ is lost, and this is the heaviest loss of all. None
like it, so infinite and so irreparable. This is the loss of losses, the woe of
woes. A lost Christ! What can equal that! This is the loss of the ungodly.
This loss is great, (1.) Because of what Christ is in himself,— the glorious
Immanuel; (2.) Because of what he has done on the cross; (3.) Because of
his love; (4.) Because of his sympathy, and fellowship, and consolation;
(5.) Because of his reward. This loss is indeed unutterable. Men do not see
this, or think of it. Yet it shall one day be felt. In hell it shall be realised as
the loss of losses, that which makes the place of woe so unutterably
woeful. "I might have had Christ," will the lost sinner say, "but I would
not have him, and now he is gone forever; I cannot have him now. Instead
of Christ, I have Satan; instead of heaven, hell."
Consider your losses, O ye ungodly! They are unspeakable and eternal.
Look at them now, and prevent them. There is some little compensation
now for such losses, in the world's pleasure, or lust, or wealth. There shall
be no compensation then. It will be unmingled woe, a cup of undiluted,
unsweetened gall and wormwood.
What a disappointment to you who have been hoping and hoping! To lie
down with a false hope, and go up to the Judge expecting to be received!
How dreadful the agony of such a disappointment!
It is not too late. Your soul is not lost, heaven is not yet lost, Christ is not
yet lost. All may yet be won! The gate stands wide open; go in, go in!
God's record stands still true concerning his Son; believe it and be saved.
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Post by Admin on Nov 6, 2024 17:06:29 GMT -5
XL.
Man's Misconstruction Of The Works Of
God
"By them judgeth he the people." —
Job 36:31
THIS verse suggests Acts 14:17, "He left not himself without witness, in
that he did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons,
filling our hearts with food and gladness." Both passages call on us to
listen to the voice of God speaking to us through what are called "natural
phenomena." By "judging" we understand more than inflicting judgment,
more than sitting as judge, or sentencer, or executioner. It means "ruling"
as well, wielding the sceptre and governing. By people we specially
understand the gentile or idolatrous nations of the earth; or generally the
inhabitants of earth. Two things are here declared, first, that God judgeth
the nations; secondly, that he does so by the changes and occurrences of
nature.
I.
He judgeth the peoples (or nations). This judging is not a thing of
the past, or of the future merely; but of the present. He has been, and he is
now "judging." Creation is past, the new creation is future, but governing
is now. All are equally sure and true; and they who deny the present
governing or the future interposition in the great day, might as well deny
creation. God's connection with earth is as close and as direct now as ever.
Not so obvious or so visible, but quite as real. A thing does not need to be
visible, or audible, or palpable in order to be direct and real. Many things
are the latter which are not the former. The power of the silent and distant
moon over the sea; of the atmosphere over all life; of the soul over the
body in every movement: these are instances in point. Only God's
connection with earth is more real and direct than these; for in Him we
live and move and have our being. His purpose comes in contact with
earth and its dwellers; not generally and by means of laws, but directly
and minutely. His will, his voice, his hand, his arm, all come into contact
with this world, as well as with all other worlds, the creation of his power.
He has not left them alone. He sustains and rules as truly as he creates.
Not for a moment does he let go his hold. He is the governor among the
nations. He ruleth by his power forever; his eyes behold the nations. He
doeth according to his will in the armies of heaven and among the
inhabitants of the earth. It is with no distant, unheeding God that we have
to do; but with that God who fixes the bounds of our habitation, who
counts our hairs, who feeds the ravens,
notes a sparrow's death, clothes the lilies of the field. He is nearer to us
than the nearest earthly object or being; more closely in contact with us
than we are with one another. All other links are as nothing compared with
this; they are threads, this is an adamantine chain.
II.
He judges the people by means of the changes of nature. We use
"nature" for want of a better word: we mean earth and sky with all their
motions, and alternations, and transformations, great and small, all
"natural phenomena" as they are called. These phenomena, or appearances,
appear to us common things; by some ascribed to chance, by others to
"laws of nature." Here they are ascribed directly to God. They are His
voice by which He speaks to us, His finger by which He touches us, His
rod by which He corrects us; His sword, by which He smites us. It seems
to be the thought of many that in none of these can we or ought we to
recognise, directlv and specially, the interposition of God; that it is
fanaticism to interpret them so as to make them special messengers of
God to us. But the words before us are very explicit, "by them judgeth he
the people." The things by which He is here said to judge the people, are
the common things of the day and year,—the rain, the clouds, the
lightning, and such like. He uses these as His voice in warning, or
commanding, or chastising, or comforting. These common things do not
come by chance, or at random, or by dead law, but go out from God as his
messengers. Thus every thing has a divine meaning and a heavenly voice.
Let us listen and interpret and understand. Summer speaks to us with its
green fields and fragrant gardens; winter speaks to us with its ice and snow
and frost. By these God judges the people. The pestilence, the famine, the
earthquake, the lightning, the storm, the shipwreck, the overthrow of
kingdoms and kings. Each of these has a special message to the nations,—
and to each of us. Let us see God drawing near to us in them;— shewing
His care and love,—manifesting an unwearied concern for our welfare.
Woe to us if we either misinterpret them, or refuse to interpret them at all.
The common daily changes of personal or family life, all speak in the
same way. Not only the sweeping calamity that carries off its hundreds,
but the sickness, the pain, or the gentle indisposition, these have a voice to
us. He that hath an ear, let him hear!
We disjoin God from creation, and so see nothing in it of divine life and
power. We disjoin God from the changes of creation, and so find no
meaning in these. We disjoin God from the beautiful or the terrible, and
so realise nothing in them that overawes, or attracts, or purifies, or
comforts. We have so learned to separate between God and the works of
God, that we seem to imagine that they contradict each other. The fair sky,
and the clear stream, and the green hills, all speak of divine goodness, and
bring to us a gospel which can hardly be mistaken. But we have learned to
deny the gracious meaning, and to say that all this beauty means nothing,
and contains no message from God, and embodies no glad tidings of great
joy.
This separation of God from His works is one of the awful features of
human unbelief. How much more of Him should we know, were we to
interpret His works aright, and hear His voice in each, whether in love or
discipline. These skies of His are not bent over us in beauty without a
meaning. These seas of His do not roll for nothing. These flowers of His
are not fragrant and fair for nothing. They do not say to us, God is your
enemy, He hates you; but God is your friend, He pities you, yearns over
you, wishes to make you happy. How full a gospel does creation preach to
us, according to its kind and measure!
The separation of the works of God from His word, is another sad feature
of human unbelief. Creation and inspiration are in harmony. The Bible
does not contradict the works of Jehovah. It means what they mean; and
they mean what it means. Each little part of both speaks, out most
intelligibly. God wishes to be understood in both. Men would misinterpret
both; they try to discover as little of God as they can in both. Yet both
preach the same gospel. In both we see the goodness of God leading to
repentance; in both we discern the loving-kindness of the Lord. The fact
that we sinners are out of hell is one gospel; that we who should have
been in hell are dwellers on a fair and fruitful earth, is another; God in
these ways shewing that He has no pleasure in our death or misery, but in
our life and joy.
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