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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 18:28:19 GMT -5
The Burning Bush
"He looked, and, behold, the Bush burned with fire, and the
Bush was not consumed." Exodus 3:3
Wondrous is the sight which here meets our view. It is a Bush in
flames, but not consumed. Destroying fire fails to destroy.
Perishable wood refuses to be fuel. Reader! this surely is no new
object to you. But know that it abounds in lessons which your
search cannot exhaust. It must be so. The unsearchable riches of
Jesus are in this mine! He, who is the Wonder of Wonders, is the
true Wonder of the Bush.
Reader! you must see Christ by faith, if ever you would see God and
enter heaven. You must know Christ in heart, if ever you would
know peace in conscience and hope in death. Ask then the Holy
Spirit that He would make the blazing Bush to be a blaze of saving
light within your soul. The way to the burning Bush lies through an
avenue of instructive thoughts.
Moses is mercifully rescued from an early grave of waters.
Pharaoh's decree dooms to death. But Pharaoh's daughter is the
means of life. When God has purposes to work, He can make foes
his tools! The oppressor's court becomes the refuge of the
oppressed. The Hebrew child is caressed as an Egyptian prince. But
the perils of the Nile are scarcely greater to the body; than the perils
of the palace to the soul. Worldly pomp is very dazzling. Worldly
luxury is very entrancing. Worldly pleasures are very ensnaring. But
there is an ark of safety in the flood of vanities, as in the flood of
waters. Moses is neither dazzled, nor entranced, nor ensnared. He
looks above, and sees a splendor far more bright. He deliberately
chooses scorn and affliction and loss and poverty, with the people of
God. And he finds such scorn to be the truest honor—such affliction
to be the purest joy—such loss to be the richest gain—such poverty
to be the most enduring wealth.
Reader! it is an important principle, that none can tread the world
beneath their feet until they see a fairer world above their heads.
When the Lord is set before you, your eyes are dim to lower objects.
The beauty of the all-beauteous One makes other loveliness
unlovely. Moses proves the mighty energy of soul-elevating, soul
purifying faith. This stirring principle turns his whole course from
ease and affluence and self, into one stream of daring activities for
God. He beholds with aching heart Israel's crushed tribes. He boldly
presents himself to avenge their wrongs, and to erect the standard
of their freedom. But what is the welcome which awaits him? Alas!
he is thrust away with a rejecting taunt, 'Who made you a prince
and a judge over us?'
Reader! your eyes are open to such pitiable folly. You sigh over a
serfdom, which is content to do a tyrant's bidding, rather than defy a
tyrant's rage. But such may be your own case. The Gospel, like
Moses, approaches men. It tells them that they grind in Satan's
prison-house. It calls them to arise from the dust, to lift up the
head, to burst the fetters, to dare to be free. It shows them Jesus,
the Captain of Salvation, inviting them to the banner of His cross. It
assures them that this Leader never lost a battle—and never lost a
man. It beseeches them to cast off the filthy fetters, and to stride
boldly towards the sparkling crown. What answer is returned? Alas!
multitudes hate the voice which would arouse them. They hug the
bonds which bind them to perdition's cell. They little think how
soon each link in that chain will become a deathless scorpion and a
quenchless flame!
'Then Moses fled at this saying.' Reader! take heed. The decree may
issue, he 'is joined to idols; let him alone.' An unwelcomed Savior
may depart forever. The wings of love may fly away in judgment.
He was hidden as a stranger in the land of Midian forty years. But
the God who was his shield in the crowd, was his sun in the desert.
It is sad, that the Lord's servant must be earth's outcast. But it is
sweet to see how heavenly wisdom can make the hardest usage to
yield our choicest blessings. The sweetest honey is from the stony
rock. There was work for Moses which required lamb-like meekness
with lion-like resolve. He must be calm as the ocean when it sleeps
—firm as the rock which smiles at storms. These are the lessons of
tribulation's school—therefore, in tribulation he must be
schooled. Metal becomes pure by long process in the furnace. The
wisdom which is profitable in the busy haunts of busy men, grows
in retirement's still shade. In the seclusion of Arabia, Paul drinks
calmly of truth's fount. In the wilds of Midian, Moses sits at the feet
of God.
At last the appointed time of rescue came. God's works are the
reflection of decrees ordained of old. When His purposes were ripe,
a marvel startles the shepherd-prophet. A Bush blazes before him,
each branch, each fiber reddened in the flame. But neither branch
nor fiber received hurt. The brittle wood waved an uninjured head.
Well might Moses wonder. But wonder deepened into awe, when
from the Bush a voice was heard, even the voice of God.
Reader! it becomes us now to ask, what is the Gospel of the burning
Bush? Jesus Himself appears in His person, suffering, and all
resisting might.
His person—He is God, and yet He stoops to be made man. He is
man, and yet He continues to be God forever. Withdraw the
Godhead, and His blood cannot atone. Withdraw the manhood, and
no blood remains. The union gives a Savior able, and a Savior fit.
Look to the Bush! It shows this very union. The wood denotes the
poor and feeble produce of earth. It exhibits the 'tender plant'—the
'root out of a dry ground.' But it holds God as its inhabitant. The
voice out of its midst proclaims, Your God is here.
His sufferings—Fire wraps the Bush. No clearer image can depict
the hot assaults of wrath. The life of Jesus knew these well. It was
one struggle with keen anguish. Earth was a thorny path. Hell shot
its every shaft. Heaven darkened with the horrors of its frowns. All
the fierce pains which infinite displeasure could inflict, made Him
their prey. He wrung out all, which all the ransomed would have
tasted, if hell-agonies had been their doom forever!
His all-resisting might—In vain the fire assailed the bush. It
stood unharmed. So every blow recoiled from Jesus. Sustained by
His indwelling Deity, He trod all foes beneath His feet. He burst the
bands of death. He shivered the grave's gates. He stood victorious
on the ruins of hell's empire. He mounted in triumph to the heaven
of heavens.
We have next an unquestionable type of the whole family of
faith. Persecutions and trials are the fire, which assails them with
ceaseless fury. But still they thrive and strengthen and bud and
blossom and flourish. How can it be? Deity indwells them! And
where Deity resides there must be undecaying life.
The Church's story is a mirror of this truth. How often do we see it
as a tiny bark tossed in engulfing waves. The powers of the mighty,
the craft of the subtle, the rage of the frantic, have seized it with
terrific grasp. Evil men have done their worst—evil spirits have
aimed blows—evil fiends have put forth spite. Surely the fragile
Bush must sink in ruin! But no! It defies all foes. It stands, and will
stand forever, verdant and fragrant and fruitful. But the power of
resistance is not its own. The Lord is in the midst of it! He has
chosen it as His abode forever. They are precious tidings. 'In the
midst of the seven candlesticks is one like unto the Son of man.'
It is true that Jesus, as God, holds all space within His hand. 'His
center is everywhere, His circumference is nowhere.' But still the
Church is the chosen home of His unbounded love. Here His all
protecting might, His all-preserving care, His full delights, repose.
He received it from His Father as His spouse—His jewels—His
peculiar treasure—His portion—the fullness of His body—the
completeness of His mediatorial glory. He is engaged to seat it, as
an undiminished family, before the throne. If one member be
injured, Christ is marred; if one be absent, Christ is maimed. Hence
He is ever with it—all heart to love—all eye to watch—all hand to
help—all wisdom to direct—all power to beat back foes. Let, then,
the fire rage! It must be mightier than Almightiness before the Bush
can droop to nothingness.
Do these lines meet the eye of one who plots and strives against
Zion's (the church's) welfare? Vain man, forbear! The promise ever
lives, 'Lo! I am with you always.' Can you tear the sun from its high
seat? Can you beat back ocean with a feather? Can you bind the
lightning with a straw? Such task would be easier than to pluck
Jesus from the Bush. Because He lives there, His people shall live
also!
Here, too, another mystery is solved. Grace seems but a tender
plant in the believer's heart. It has to contend with nipping frosts
and desolating storms. Satan's rage burns hot against it.
The world brings fuel upon fuel to consume it. The flesh blows
fiercely to fan the flame. But grace still thrives! Its roots spread. Its
branches rise. Its fruit ripens. Why? Christ walks within His garden
—a guardian-God. His hand sowed each seed. The dew of His favor
nourishes it. The smile of His love matures it. Hence it overtops all
fiery foes, and lifts its head towards heaven.
Believer, think much of the 'goodwill of Him who dwelt in the
Bush.' Fears then will flee away. If you stood alone, it would be
presumption to hope. Because you are not alone, it is offence to
tremble.
Look back. Many conflicts are behind, and yet you live. How is it?
You reply with Paul, 'The Lord stood with me and strengthened me.'
'The Bush burned with fire, and the Bush was not consumed.' Your
present fight is hot. But you hear a much-loved voice, 'Do not fear,
for I am with you.' 'The Bush burns with fire, and the Bush is not
consumed.'
You look forward. The horizon is dark with clouds of tribulation.
But the same voice cheers, 'Do not fear, for I am with you; when you
walk through the fire, you shall not be burned.' The captive youths,
a cloud of witnesses, an army of blessed martyrs, wave you forward.
They tell that persecuting flames may be divested of all their sting.
Rejoice then. The Bush shall burn with fire, but it shall not be
consumed!
Reader! pause here, and search your conscience. Is your body a
temple of Jesus Christ, through the Spirit? Is Christ dwelling in
your heart by faith? Is Christ in you, the hope of glory? If it is not
so, touch not the comfort of the burning Bush. Remember, there
are thorns and briers, 'whose end is to be burned.' No Savior saves
them. Tares must be bound in bundles for wrath's full-heated
furnace. A terrible voice wails from the region of the lost, 'I am
tormented in this flame.' 'The day comes that shall burn as an oven
and all the proud, yes, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble.'
'The smoke of their torment ascends up forever and ever.'
Reader! here are words by which, through grace, you may be saved.
Turn not away to everlasting burnings. If you are so mad, this
warning will lie, as a hot coal, upon your soul forever!
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 18:30:20 GMT -5
I Am That I Am
"I am that I am." Exodus 3:14
The believer is called to wayfaring and warfaring struggles. He has
to bear a daily cross and to fight a daily fight. But in every hour of
need a sure support is near. Behold Moses. The ground which he
must tread is very slippery. The hill of his difficulties is very steep. A
foe opposes every step. But a staff and a sword are provided for him
in the name of his guiding and protecting Lord. 'I AM THAT I AM.'
On this he can lean the whole burden of his cares, and fears, and
pains. By this he can scatter kings as dust. This support is still the
same, ever mighty, ever near. The feeblest pilgrim may grasp it by
the hand of faith. And whoever grasps it is 'as mount Zion, which
cannot be removed, but abides forever.'
'I AM THAT I AM.' Such is the voice from the burning bush. The
Speaker, then, is hidden in no mask of mystery. It is the Angel of the
everlasting Covenant. It is the great Redeemer. He would establish
His people on the firm rock of comfort. Therefore with trumpet
tongue He thus assures them that all the majesty, all the
supremacy, all the glory of absolute and essential Deity, are His
inherent right. O my soul, into what a speck must poor man
dwindle before such greatness! The limits of the mind cannot scan
it. The arms of the heart cannot embrace it. Words are mere
skeletons before it. Intellect would desire to fly on eagle's wing
around the ever-widening circle. But vain is the effort. Its height is
on heaven's summit. What mortal arm can reach it? It is as space
which has no bounds. What human line can measure it? Our mortal
eyes cannot pierce unlimited expanse. Our scales cannot weigh the
mountains. Our vessels cannot measure the ocean's depths. So our
faculties are too short to probe the immensities of God. To grasp
divine essence requires divine largeness. 'I AM THAT I AM' alone
can read the volume of that title.
Shall we then repine? What! repine because our God is so great?
Where is the subject who frets because he cannot count his prince's
treasures? Let us rather bow our heads in pious adoration. Let us
rather give thanks that a mine is open in which the very dust is
gold! Let us rather humble ourselves, that we are so slow and
careless to gather up the manna of rich truth which falls at the tent
door. Let us rather pray the Spirit to illumine more clearly the
written page. Let us rather long for the day when every cloud which
veils our God shall brighten into perfect light; and when His people
'shall be like Him, for they shall see Him as He is.' Come then, and
with such loving teachableness let us take our seat beside this sea of
truth, and strive with reverence to touch the spray which sparkles
on the shore.
'I AM THAT I AM.' Here the first sound is eternity. Jesus, as God,
here puts on eternity as His robe. He knows no past. He knows no
future. He lives unmoved in one unmoving present. He stretches
through all the ages which are gone and which are yet to come. His
only bounds are immeasurable boundlessness. Before time was
born, He is 'I AM THAT I AM.' When time shall have expired, He
still is 'I AM THAT I AM.' If there had been the moment when His
being dawned, His name would be, 'I am what I was not.' If there
could be a moment when His being must have end, His name would
be, 'I am what I shall not be.' But He is, 'I AM THAT I AM.' Thus He
treads first and last beneath His feet. He sits on the unbroken
circumference of existence, as He who ever was, and ever is, and
ever shall be. Let thought fly back, until in weariness it faint; let it
look onward until all vision fail; it ever finds Him the same 'I AM.'
Reader! look down now from this astounding glory and fix your eye
on Bethlehem's manger. A lowly Babe lies in the lowly cradle of a
lowly town, the offspring of a lowly mother. Look again. That child
is the eternal 'I AM.' He whose Deity never had birth, is born 'the
woman's Seed.' He, whom no infinitudes can hold, is contained
within Infant's age, and Infant's form. He, who never began to be, as
God, here begins to be, as man. And can it be, that the great 'I AM
THAT I AM' shrinks into our flesh, and is little upon our earth, as
one newborn of yesterday? It is so! The Lord promised it. Prophets
foretold it. Types prefigured it. An angel announces it. Heaven rings
with rapture at it. Faith sees it. The redeemed rejoice in it.
But why is this wonder of wonders? Why is eternity's Lord a Child
of time? He thus stoops, that He may save poor wretched sinners
such as we are. Could He not do so by His will or by His word? Ah!
no. He willed, and all things were. He speaks, and all obey. But he
must die, as man, that a lost soul may live. To rescue from one stain
of sin, the Eternal must take the sinner's place, and bear sin's curse
and pay sin's debt, and suffer sin's penalty, and wash out sin's filth,
and atone for sin's malignity. 'I AM THAT I AM' alone could do this.
'I AM THAT I AM' alone has done it.
What self-denial, what self-abasement, what self-emptying is here!
Surely, royalty in rags, angels in cells, is no descent compared to
Deity in flesh! But mighty love moves Jesus to despise all shame,
and to lie low in misery's lowest mire. Through ages past His
'delights were with the sons of men.' Eternity to come is but a void,
unless his people share His glory. Therefore He humbles Himself to
earth, that specks of earth may rise to heaven's immortality.
Believer, you rejoice in prospect of thus living with Him forever. But
why is there full rapture in the thought? Do not you feel that the
crowning ecstasy is in this? Eternity will afford you time to gaze
with steady look on a Savior's glories, to sing with unwearied hymn
a Savior's praise, to bless with perpetual blessing a Savior's name,
and to learn with ever-expanding knowledge a Savior's worth!
There is another note in this loud chorus of truth, which is especial
sweetness to the believer's ear. It tells melodiously that Jesus
cannot change. He is as constant as He is great. As surely as He
ever lives, so surely He ever lives the same. He is an infinity of
never-varying oneness. He sits on the calm throne of eternal
serenity. Change is the defect of things below—for things below are
all defective. Immutability reigns above—for immutability is
perfection's essence. Our brightest morn often ends in storm.
Summer's radiance gives place to winter's gloom. The smiling flower
soon lies withered. The babbling brook is soon a parched-up
channel. The friend who smiled, smiles no more friendly welcomes.
Bereavement weeps where once the family beamed with domestic
joy. Gardens wither into deserts. Babylons crumble into unsightly
ruins. On all things a sad inscription writes 'fleeting—transient—
vanishing.' Time flaps a ceaseless wing, and from the wings decay
and death drop down. 'I AM THAT I AM' sits high above all this. He
is 'the same yesterday, and today, and forever.'
The unchangeableness of Jesus is the unchangeableness of
His attributes. Each shines brightly in this bright mirror. But a
rapid glance at His love and power must suffice. His love is in
perpetual bloom. It is always in summertime. The roots are deeply
buried in Himself; therefore the branches cannot fade. Believer,
drink hourly of this cup of joy. Do not allow Satan to infuse a
poisonous doubt. Christ loved you fully when, in the councils of
eternity, He received you into His heart. He loved you truly when, in
the fullness of time, He took upon Himself your curse, and drained
your hell-deep dues. He loved you tenderly when He showed you, by
the Spirit, His hands and His feet, and whispered to you that you
were His. He loves you faithfully while He ceases not to intercede in
your behalf, and to scatter blessings on your person and your soul.
He will love you intensely in heaven when you are manifested as
His precious purchase and crowned as His bride!
To each enquiry—has He loved? does He love? and will He love?—
the one reply is, 'I AM THAT I AM.' Do not raise the objection, if He
thus loves, why am I thus? why is my path so rugged, and my heart
like flint? You will soon know that your bitterest trials and your
sorest pains are sure tokens of His love. The father corrects because
he loves. In attentive care the physician deeply probes the wounds.
Thus Jesus makes earth hard, that you may long for heaven's holy
rest. He shows you your self-vileness that you may prize His
cleansing blood. He allows you to stumble that you may cleave more
closely to His side. He makes the world a blank that you may seek
all comfort in Himself. If He seems to change, it is that you may
change. He hides His face, that you may look for Him. He is silent,
that you may cry more loudly. His desertion prevents your
desertion. He saves from real hell, by casting into seeming hell. But
love fails not. All His dealings are its everflowing, overflowing tide.
On each the eye of faith can read, 'I AM THAT I AM.'
Power goes hand in hand with love. They co-exist and co-endure. It
was a mighty voice which said, 'Be'—and all things were. It was a
mighty hand which framed this so wondrous universe. It is a mighty
arm which turns the wheel of providence. This power still is, and
ever will be, what it always has been. No age enfeebles, and no use
exhausts it. This is the Church's rock. The Bible, blazing with its
exploits, encourages the 'worm Jacob' to 'be strong in the Lord, and
in the power of His might.' He can still bid the seas of difficulty to
recede. He can cause hurricanes and tempests to cease. He can
make straight, the crooked paths of evil. He can level the mountains
of high-towering corruption. He can stop the lion-mouth of
persecution. He can quench the scorching flames of every lust. In
the face of all Goliaths, He cheers His followers to victory, under the
banner of 'I AM THAT I AM.'
Reader! these thoughts scarcely touch the boundary line of
the shadow of this glorious name. But surely they show the
blessedness of those who, guided by the Spirit, repose beneath the
wings of Jesus. 'The eternal God is your refuge and underneath are
the everlasting arms.' 'I AM THAT I AM' must perish or must
change, before their names can be cast from His heart. Some greater
power must arise, before they can be plucked from His tight
grasping hand. The bare idea is folly. Happy flock! 'I AM THAT I
AM' loves them, and they are loved—calls them, and they follow
Him—sanctifies them, and they are sanctified—blesses them, and
they are blessed—gives them life, and they live—gives them glory,
and they are glorified.
But perhaps it is your wretched case to live unsprinkled by His
saving blood. Will you die thus? What! thus appear before His great
white throne? His truth condemns you—and it cannot change.
His wrath burns hotly against you—and it cannot relent.
His power has commission to destroy you—and it cannot be
withstood. 'I AM THAT I AM' becomes an idle fable, if truth and
wrath and power war not eternally with sin. And can they war and
not prevail?
Believer, the eternity and unchangeableness of 'I AM THAT I AM'
makes heaven to be heaven forever. Sinner, the eternity and
unchangeableness of 'I AM THAT I AM' makes hell to be hell
forever.
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 18:32:11 GMT -5
The Passover
"It is the Lord's Passover." Exodus 12:11
These words send us back to the last night of Israel's bondage in the
land of Egypt. The captives had suffered much and long. The iron
furnace had been heated by unpitying hate and by unsparing hands.
But God, in His high council, had decreed that a morn of deliverance
should dawn. The appointed hour came. No power can now detain.
Mad opposition becomes weak. The chosen people must go free.
Believer, stay your soul on the rock of the promises. They are as
immovable as He who speaks them. At the set moment you shall
march in triumph to your Canaan.
Let us, in thought, intermingle in the solemn scene. It was a night
black in dismays, terrible in judgments, wild in affrights, keen in
anguish. Throughout the whole of Egypt's empire every house was
woe, every face was horror, every heart was misery. Death forced all
doors. Each eldest child was a lifeless corpse. There was no
exception. The monarch and the slave alike bewailed, in bitter cry,
their first-born's sudden and untimely slaughter.
It was a night memorable, also, in sweet displays of tender love.
Israel's favored sons were all assembled. But neither death nor fear
was in their dwellings. They were equipped for departure from all
cruelties and pains. They were feasting at a heaven-appointed table.
They were rejoicing in a Gospel ordinance. They were partaking of a
slain lamb. This exhibited, in loudly-speaking rites, all the
certainties and all the mercies of spiritual redemption. They realized
present escape. They looked forward to future safety. They had
much in hand. They had more in view.
Reader! let us with joy join these joyous companies. And may the
Christ-revealing Spirit show Christ to us, as the substance and truth
and glory of the spread feast! God Himself selects the offering. His
voice says, 'They shall take to them every man A LAMB.' Thus
Jesus is appointed by heavenly wisdom to be the one redeeming
sacrifice. An elected Savior is the strong foundation of salvation's
pyramid. Blessed provision of our blessing God! Where could we
turn, if bidden to find a guilt-removing victim? But grace meets
every need. Hearken to the sure tidings, 'Behold my servant, whom I
uphold—my elect, in whom my soul delights.'
Reader! God's only begotten Son is God's only appointed Redeemer.
He only is called to bear His people's sins. For He alone can sustain
such load. He alone is sent to make atonement. For He alone has
worthy blood to shed. He alone is commissioned to bring in
reconciliation. For He alone can covenant with God. Obey God—
present Jesus in the arms of faith. Then your crimson stain is
whiter than snow. Your soul is saved. Reject Him, and there
remains no more sacrifice for sins.
The lamb must be a male of the earliest age—'Your lamb shall
be a male of the first year.' These are signs of vigor in unbroken
perfection. Truly He who is to save must be mighty in strength. For
think what mighty hindrances oppose. Whose arm can hold back
the descending arm of divine wrath? Whose shoulder can sustain
the weight of countless sins? Whose force can close hell? Whose
power can open heaven? Whose prowess can trample down satanic
rage, satanic spirits, and satanic men? In none but Jesus can such
sufficiency be found. In Him it abounds to the overflowing of
almightiness. The Father's voice proclaims, 'I have laid help upon
one that is mighty.' The pledge is given, 'He shall send them a
Savior, and a great one.' The fulfillment is in Jesus, 'The great God
and our Savior.' He is the Lamb in all the energy of perfect strength.
The Lamb must be without blemish—'Your lamb shall be without
blemish, a male of the first year.' Jesus, while man below, was pure
as God in heaven's brightness. Sin strove in vain to soil Him. Foul
temptations thickly fell, but left Him spotless as the light of day.
The Father's eye, which cannot look upon uncleanness, delighted in
Him as the clear mirror of His own glory. In Him, human nature
shone in the luster of divine holiness. In Him was sinlessness which
could atone for sin. In Him was righteousness which satisfied the
law.
The lamb must be 'set apart for four days.' Thus in heaven,
through eternal days, Jehovah's eye inspected Jesus, as the fore
ordained expiation for the foreseen evil. Thus on earth, through the
days preceding the cross, He was tested by every judge—and thus,
universal consent crowned Him with the crown of untarnished
blamelessness. Even Satan, speaking by blood-guilty lips,
proclaimed that there was no fault in Him.
The lamb must be 'slain by the whole assembly of the
congregation.' Not one voice was silent, when the dreadful cry
went forth, 'Crucify Him, crucify Him.' Believer, not one sin of all
your life was absent, when Jesus was dragged to the cross. All your
transgressions strained the cords. They concurred to drive in the
nails, and to make deep the wounds. Your iniquities brought in His
death. His death brings in your life.
The 'blood must be sprinkled on the lintel, and on the
doorposts of each dwelling.' The shed blood must be used. It
must be openly exhibited as a distinguishing sign. If the destroyer
finds the preserving mark, the foot of vengeance must pass over. If
there be no shield of blood, the arrows of death must do their work.
Reader! the Gospel moves poor sinners to appropriating efforts.
Christ is uplifted, that eyes may look to Him. He is an open refuge,
that feet may fly to Him. His blood flowed, that it may be taken by
the hand of faith. Do you live a blood-besprinkled life? Is your soul
at all times fresh dripping from this stream? If so, you safely dwell
beneath salvation's wings. Justice cannot drag you to execution. The
curse cannot blight you. The law cannot condemn you. Vengeance
cannot slay you. The blood upon you cries—Away! stand back! no
foe can touch, where I protect. But are you thus marked as Christ's?
If not, arise speedily and flee unto the wounded Lamb. The day is
far spent: the night of ruin is at hand. The destroyer is at your heels.
Each house unmarked was a house unspared. Each soul unwashed
will be a soul undone. An applied remedy alone can heal.
Not one drop stained the floor. The blood of Jesus is the most
precious thing in heaven and in earth. The Father honors it with all
heaven's honors. The saints in light praise it with all heaven's
praises. The saints on earth rejoice in it with all heart's rapture.
Satan flees before it. Shall godless men treat it with rejecting scorn?
Let them beware—on the heart it is a seal of life—beneath the feet it
is the stamp of hell.
The flesh must be roasted with fire. We have here the keenest
image of the keenest torture. The pain of pains is to be slowly
devoured by the scorching flames. But this is a faint image of what
Jesus verily endured. O my soul, deal closely with the sufferings of
your suffering Lamb. Let the amazing facts be the very fibers of
your constant thought. Daily visit the garden. Hourly study
the cross. What is the sight, what are the sounds, which there
confront you? The God-man Jesus lies crushed to the earth. He
bends beneath a weight of woe. The saddest groans proclaim the
writhings of a tortured soul. Each pore weeps blood. Agony could
not more agonize. A piteous cry confesses that the black horrors of
desertion blackened around Him. These marks of extremest anguish
have clear meaning. The Passover Lamb is roasted with fire.
Believer, Jesus was tormented in your stead. All the wrath which all
your sins deserved was outpoured on Him. The vengeance of God
descended in all its fury on Him. The curse of the law exacted its
utmost on Him. The flames of hell tightly grasped Him. He endured
the very miseries which all His people must have endured if they
had wailed forever in the lake of fire. Faith sees it and exclaims—I
live, for Jesus died. I cannot suffer. Jesus has exhausted all. Wrath
cannot touch me, because it has touched Him!
Each inhabitant of the house must feed upon the lamb. So
every one who would be saved must verily partake of Christ. To hear
of Him, to touch the emblems of His dying love, to know His merits,
to commend His worth, will profit little. Faith takes Christ, Christ
Himself, as its own. It makes Him the very juice and substance of
the inner man. Jesus is the believer's never-ending banquet. He
feasts on Christ now. He will feast with Christ forever.
A bone of the lamb may not be broken. Jesus indeed was
harshly treated. But no wounds marred His bones. They weakened
not the pillars of His strength. He lives all-vigorous in salvation's
might. He stands the unbroken, the unblemished column of His
people's hopes. The marvelous fulfillment, also, of this command,
proves Jesus of Nazareth to be the true Passover of God. When the
soldiers 'came to Jesus and saw that He was dead already, they
broke not His legs.' The unwitting heathen unwittingly
accomplished the Jewish type. Infidelity, what can you reply? Know,
that as no ignorance is like yours, so no ruin will be like yours.
The lamb must be eaten with bitter herbs and unleavened
bread. These requirements shadow out the combined graces
of penitence and sincerity. Reader, do you boast of hope in Christ?
It only dwells in a heart ground to powder under a sense of
sin. Tears are the magnifying medium through which the cross
attracts. Faith has no root in rocky soil. It only blossoms in the
moist garden of a weeping spirit. They come in sorrow's sackcloth
who receive Christ's justifying robe.
Do you boast that Christ is your feast? Where is your unleavened
bread? Sin loved, sin cherished, sin retained, turns heaven's food
into hell's poison. A searching eye comes in to see the guests.
Leaven in their hands, leaven in their mouths, leaven in their
hearts, is a fatal mark. They must go away to the cell of hypocrites.
The lamb must be eaten 'in the attitude of haste, and with
equipment for departure.' The loins must be girded. The feet
must be shod. The hands must hold the staff. Here is the believer
waiting for his summons, with wings expanded towards his far-off
home. Earth's ties are all severed. Anchors are weighed. The eye is
strained for the signal, 'Come up here!' Reader, are you thus ready?
It is miserable to have ought to do, when doing-time is past. He is a
foolish servant who has to seek the key when his Lord knocks. He is
a poor advocate, who has to find a plea when he is called to
plead. When death comes, have nothing to do, but just to die.
Believer, may you hear, in these poor lines, the Spirit calling you to
this Gospel feast. It is His voice, 'Christ, our Passover lamb, has
been sacrificed. Therefore let us keep the Festival, not with the old
yeast, the yeast of malice and wickedness, but with bread without
yeast, the bread of sincerity and truth.' I deeply feel that without His
light, His grace, His power, we cannot see or know or love or serve
or glorify our Lord. But may He be pleased to open our eyes, that we
may behold the rich plenteousness of our paschal-feast! May He
show us the glories of Jesus, as the Lamb slain! May He enable us
to receive Him as our All! May He fill our hearts with the longing
prayer, 'Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 18:35:14 GMT -5
Redemption
"You must redeem every firstborn son." Exodus 13:13
If there is a theme which claims incessant thought, it is
Redemption. Job's sweetest word is, 'I know that my Redeemer
lives.' Heaven is a pyramid of redeemed souls. The melody of
eternal harps is, 'You were slain, and have redeemed us to God by
Your blood.'
Reader! study, then, I beg you, Redemption more and more. Explore
its need, its plan, its worth, its end. Without this knowledge your
soul is dark, your heart is cold, faith has no sure resting-place, hope
has no anchor, love has no kindling flame, service has no
constraining motive. Except this stream flow in a deep channel, the
Bible is the mocking course of a summer brook.
It is the Spirit's will that we should clearly see and tightly grasp this
subject. He announces it in plainest terms. He embodies it
in distinct images. He paints it in vivid types. He predicts it
in prophetic song. He exhibits it in holy rites. Thus in the earliest
pages of Israel's story an ordinance stands forward, which surely is
designed to cast a flood of revealing rays on the main features of
redeeming work.
The first-born of every family throughout Egypt's empire are cut
down by one fell swoop. But in the blood-marked dwellings no
parent weeps, no offspring bleeds. A child is spared. But He who
spares it claims it as His own. The Lord speaks unto Moses, saying,
'Sanctify unto me all the firstborn.' They are doubly His. He created;
He preserved.
But tender mercy here finds an opening to show a smiling face.
Ransom is decreed. If a fit sum, according to the balance of the
sanctuary, be paid, the claim shall be remitted, the forfeited progeny
shall be free—'collect five pieces of silver for each person, each piece
weighing the same as the standard sanctuary shekel.'
Such is the rite. It has especial value, because it gives a clue to the
grand lesson of the Gospel-school. We here are taught the meaning
of Redemption. It is recovery on account of payment made. A
Redeemer receives again, only because He fills the scales with
satisfying sums.
Reader! now lift aloft this torch. It helps you to discern the realities
and immensities of the Redemption which is effected by the Lord.
Sinners are the lost property. Souls are the captive heritage. Christ
regains them at the price of His most precious blood. Ponder the
breadth and length of this great fact. Mark the vile thraldom into
which sin brought our race. It spoiled us all of spiritual liberty. It
dragged us into the lowest cell of a dark prison-house. It placed
Satan as the stern jailer of a guilt-enfettered world. From the day in
which Adam touched the forbidden fruit, each child is born a
captive, because he is born in sin. External circumstance may differ.
But it changes not internal state. The high, the low, the rich, the
poor, lie in one base level of sin-grasped, sin-sold misery. The whole
family breathe their first breath, as common slaves in common
slavery. Not only spiritual liberty is lost, but spiritual life is slain. No
slave of sin is conscious of his abject state. There is no loathing of
the loathsome jail. There is no longing to reach holier ground. There
is no panting for a purer climate.
But try to suppose a case which cannot be. Let the heart wish
against the heart's desire. Let corruption sigh to burst corruption's
bond. Where can one gleam of hope be found? Will tears or cries
induce the jailer to relent? Can his hatred cease to hate? Can his
malice melt to love? Can rocks dissolve to softness? Such things
might be. But Satan must be Satan still. His being is to revel in our
woe. But can no striving strength beat down the subjugating foe?
Alas! Feebleness is a feeble word to paint our power when compared
with his. Self cannot rescue self; nor man deliver man. But cannot
angels render aid? We may conceive that they look down in tender
pity. But pity is not power. A yearning heart is not an arm of might.
Let all the hosts of heaven fly forward to your help. How can they
force open the prison walls which sin has raised? Captivity must
remain, except Omnipotence arise to help!
Reader! now look to Jesus. All hope centers in Him. His gracious
eye surveys a captive world. Within sin's walls He sees the bride,
from all eternity beloved—the portion which the Heavenly Father
gave Him—the jewels which are to be His crown forever—the sheep
whom He is pledged to tend—the children whose names are written
on His heart—the heritage which was His delight before the worlds
were made. He beholds them vile, in iniquity's vile rags—wretched
to the last length of wretchedness—dark in the blackest night of
hopelessness—trembling on the brink of uttermost perdition. He
beholds them in this mire. He beholds them such, and yet He loves
them. Can He love and not seek their rescue? Can He live if they
die? Can He rejoice if they wail? Can He reign if they perish? Can
He shine in glory if they burn in hell? It cannot be. They are His
property by His Father's gift. They are the fullness of His mystic
body.
He must redeem them. But how? Suppose Him suppliant at the
dungeon-gate. Can He by word of strong entreaty gain their
freedom? No! the Holy attributes of God forbid. A book appears
against them, written throughout with countless charges, and
exhibiting countless debts. Each debt is a catalogue of infinite
extent. Can He pay all? He knows that in the boundlessness of His
Deity He has strength to endure the penalty, and resources to wipe
out the debt. Will He hesitate? Oh no! love constrains Him, pity
moves Him; mercy urges Him; the eternal covenant compels Him.
To the extent of infinity He will suffer, if only by the infinity of His
sufferings His people can be free. So He takes Redemption into His
hands.
And will He verily accomplish it? O my soul, draw near and see. In
the fullness of time, He comes flying on the wings of redeeming
grace, striding in the might of redeeming power, clad in the armor of
redeeming prowess, wearing on His brow Redemption's helmet,
bearing in His hands Redemption's price. Proceed with Him to the
work of redemption. Enter with Him into the garden. Take your
station beside His cross. He presents Himself to redeem. He draws
near to endure His people's pains, to pay their wretched owings. The
penalty of each sin is everlasting curse. Must this descend upon the
sinless Surety? It must! It does. Holy wrath cannot spare. Holy
Truth cannot unsay its word. The sinner's soul must die. All the
agonies of never-ending dying must be borne. Jesus sustains all,
until justice can inflict no more. So, also, each debt is fully
cancelled. The scales of heaven are brought forth. In the one there is
the weight of iniquities, which would weigh worlds upon worlds
into the lowest dust. Into the other Jesus casts His blood as
counter-payment. The value infinitely exceeds. Justice exclaims,
Release those souls, the debt has been paid to the last mite!
Jehovah issues His mighty mandate concerning each, 'Deliver him
from going down to the pit; I have found a ransom!'
What now can Satan do? His rage, his malice, and his hate, are
impotent to harm. The blood of Jesus has satisfied all claims. That
death has slain all foes. That cross has silenced each accusing voice.
The portals of heaven can no more be barred. The chains of bondage
are shattered. The prisoners are free. The captives are redeemed.
Who now presents a charge? Who now can urge a claim? Christ's
death is super-abounding Redemption-price.
O my soul, live reading those letters of love, which brightly shine
around the cross. It is written, 'In whom we have Redemption
through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of
His grace.' Believer, you are purchased by this inestimable
price. Know, then, what blessedness is yours. You are forever free
from all hell-misery. Multitudes must reap the harvest which sin
sows, in anguish never-ending. But avenging wrath cannot touch
you. The gnawing worm cannot prey on you. The Redeemer has
ransomed you. Rejoice, and give Him praise.
The wicked will soon be bound, body and soul, in bundles for the
endless burning! Oh! the woe to be forever linked with foul fiends—
to be forever hearing from their parched lips the execrating wail of
hatred and despair! But you are safe. The Redeemer has ransomed
you. Rejoice, and give Him praise!
How many pass their pilgrim-days in the vile service of this world's
prince! He drives them at his will to every godless word and
work. They drink the gall of disappointment, vexation, discontent,
and terrible foreboding. But He who redeemed your life from
destruction crowns you with loving-kindness and tender mercies.
You have peace which passes all understanding—joys which are the
pledge of Paradise—and hope which enters now within the veil of
heaven. Rejoice, and give Him praise!
Many tremble at the approach of death. They know that it will snap
the thread of earthly being, and plunge them into agony's abyss.
They hate life, because it ends in dying. They hate dying, because it
ends their hopeless hopes. But death's features have no frown for
the Redeemed. It comes as a welcome friend to open the cage-door
of the flesh, that the rejoicing spirit may fly swift to the Redeemer's
breast. The slaves of Satan dread the grave. They are conscious that
it cannot detain the body long. Their dust must live again. The
tabernacle in which they sinned must be the tabernacle in which
they receive sin's wages. But your ears of faith have heard the
Conqueror's shout, 'I will ransom them from the power of the grave.
I will redeem them from death.' The archangel's voice will soon
awake the slumbering clay, and then it will put on the glorious
robes of immortality, and shine forth in beauty, bright as His
beauty, and in perfections fitted for the Eternal's throne.
Believer, hell only can draw up the murky veil, and fully show the
miseries from which you are snatched by Christ. The resurrection
morn, the nightless day alone can manifest your blood-bought
blessing.
But listen! the Spirit speaks a word of wholesome
warning. Redeemed ones are no more their own. 'You are bought
with a price—therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit,
which are God's.' Your time is redeemed; use it as a consecrated
talent in His cause. Your minds are redeemed; employ them to
learn His truth and, to meditate on His ways. Thus make them
armories of holy weapons. Your eyes are redeemed; let them not
look on vanity; close them on all sights and books of folly.
Your feet are redeemed; let them trample on the world, and climb
the upward hill of Zion, and bear you onward in the march of
Christian zeal. Your tongues are redeemed; let them only sound
His praise, and testify to His love, and call sinners to His cross.
Your hearts are redeemed; let them love Him wholly, and have no
seat for rivals.
A redeemed flock should live in Redemption's pastures. The
Redeemer's freedmen should evidence that they are called to holy
liberty, and that their holy liberty is holy service. The chain of sin is
broken. The chain of love now holds them!
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 18:40:27 GMT -5
The Pillar
"The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud to lead
them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light;
to go by day and night." Exodus 13:21
The children of Israel are about to tread an unknown path. A desert
is before them, wide and desolate and trackless. They have no chart
to show the way. There are no friendly lips to counsel or to warn.
They must proceed, and yet they fear to stir.
This is a common need. Perhaps you, who read, discern your very
case. You have left Egypt. The hated bonds are burst. But Canaan's
rest is far away. An intervening wilderness extends. Hence the sigh
rises in your breast, Oh! that some guide were near! How can the
distant end be safely reached?
Israel's story gives the glad reply. Were they allowed to wander
without beckoning support? Oh, no! Whose hand, then, waved them
forward? Did the Lord send some natives of the wilderness to teach
where the paths were safe? No! Did He inspire their ruler's mind
with instinct of the untrodden land? No! He comes Himself. He
stoops to take the office of their guide. But by what method is His
directing aid made clear? A visible form, which every eye might see,
reveals the wondrous guide. A pillar descends, and rests upon the
camp. When the day shines, it is a cloudy column.
When darkness comes, its mass is fire. Its presence never is
withdrawn. It moves, a signal for advance. It rests, to bid them
pause. Such is the protection and guidance of the desert-march.
Do you now ask, what is the Gospel significance of this type? The
type distinctly shows that no believer ever moves unled. The
prophet proves this, when he selects this emblem to portray Christ's
care—'Then the Lord will create over all of Mount Zion and over
those who assemble there a cloud of smoke by day and a glow of
flaming fire by night; over all the glory will be a canopy.' The
conclusion, then, is sound. The Pillar preaches Christ, the preceding
Shepherd of His flock. Faith gazes on it, and drinks in the comfort of
an ever-leading, never-leaving God.
Reader! come now, and seek some comfort for your pilgrim-days,
from Israel's Pillar. Especial circumstances marked it. It was but
one. In midday brightness, and in night's deep gloom, the substance
was the same. Thus Christ is ever one. He who was shadowed out in
Eden; He to whom Abel looked; He who was Abraham's seed and
David's offspring and the sweet theme of every prophet's harp; He
who was pierced on Calvary and laid in the grave; is the same Jesus
who shall shortly come again.
No sinner escapes death, but through one victim, one righteousness,
one faith, one hope, one clinging to one cross, one cleaving to one
Lord, one journeying in one blood-stained path. There is one only
Savior of all the saved, one only door of heaven, one only plea
before the judgment-seat, one only ransom of a guilty soul. If Israel
had turned to other guidance, they would have rushed to sure
destruction.
Reader! deluded men, with Cain-like pride, frame other saviors, and
find no Savior. Take heed. Look only to the one Christ, and to the
one Bible, and to the true church. He is not divided. Do not be
divided from Him.
The Pillar ever rose in firm solidity. Cloudy masses bend quickly
before a driving breath of wind. The storm beats on them, and they
vanish. But this Pillar mocked the lash of hurricanes and watery
floods. Amid the roar of elements, it smiled unmoved, immovable.
It was quiet, as a rock among unquiet waves. Thus no assaults can
shake salvation's Pillar. Satan has done his worst. Each weapon
which hell can point has been hurled at Him. The might and craft of
man have marshaled all their forces. But every shaft of shrewdness,
ridicule, and wit; the strong man's strength, the great man's
greatness, the prince's power, and all plotting wiles; have fallen
baffled at His feet. Reader! you can have confidence in your Guide's
strength. The heavens may crumble into dust. But He cannot be
shaken.
But the Pillar, though firm and solid, yet changed its
appearance. In day its look was dark. In night it shone in brilliant
blaze. It put on the fittest garb to gain observance. Here is the tender
grace of Jesus! Mark His unwearied efforts to draw minds towards
Himself. It is with this design that every Bible-page proclaims some
feature of His saving truth. For this, heaven-born, heaven-taught,
heaven-sent heralds in pulpits and by dying-beds, in public teaching
and in private converse, call and beseech men to behold Him, as the
only way of life. What more can Jesus do to cause His mercy to be
fully seen?
Reader! if your eyes turns elsewhere, the blame is not with the
conspicuous Pillar. When night's mantle wrapped the earth, the
Pillar clad itself in robes of fire. It shone, that all might see. It
shone, that all in seeing might rejoice. Such is the love of Jesus.
When is His presence most clear, most cheering? Surely in the dark
hour of need. When gloom oppresses, when mists of horror rise,
when prospects blacken, when the beclouded eye discerns no safety
and no peace in earth, then the smile of Jesus gives light. Unusual
glories then illumine the road.
The Pillar had an upraised arm. Its ascending spire directed to
the skies. So Jesus calls us to an upward flight. How solemnly He
warns to rise above the mire and filth of a soul-murdering world!
How faithfully He tells that all its baits are poison, its touch
pollution, and its wages death! How tenderly He cries—Come unto
Me, and leave such vanities below—lean on My arm, and climb the
hill of peace—mount by My side, and I will bring you to a reconciled
Father's throne, and the high mansions of your God! Thus Jesus
points to the heavens. Reader! be wise. To look to Jesus is to soar to
heaven.
Such were its peculiar properties. But its main purpose was to
lead. When it preceded, the willing host advanced. When it stood
still, their camps were fixed. They were not called to reason, or to
ask, or doubt. All who wish to go or tarry submitted to the ruling
column. Their guide was God. His will was love. His way was
knowledge. His end was safety. Nothing was left for them, but to
observe and follow.
Shall twilight types outshine the Gospel sun? It cannot be. The heirs
of grace are cared for, as truly now as then. Their Leader is the
same. Be it so, that Christ directs not now by visible display of
manifested presence. Be it so, that the eye of nature sees not a
moving or a halting pillar. Still faith can trace an unseen hand, and
the enlightened mind can read the warnings of a heavenly
Lord. Christ guides now by His Word. The Book of books is always
by our side. It is a present and a perfect chart. The upward path, the
downward slopes, the hidden snares, the plains of safety, the
meadows of repose, are all here pencilled with inspired skill. This is
the blessed handbook of the blessed route. The humble pilgrim
meekly prays, 'Speak, Lord, for your servant hears.' The answer
tarries not—'This is the way, walk in it. Is it not pledged, 'When you
go, it shall lead you; when you sleep, it shall keep you; and when
you awake, it shall talk with you; for the commandment is a lamp
and the law is light.' The believer's daily walk attests the truth.
When perils have been near, and pitfalls have gaped, and by-ways
have enticed the steps, a beacon from the Word has warned and
saved.
Reader! would you reach Canaan? Then cling to this ever-living
guide. Search it day and night. Make it your chosen friend of every
hour. Engraft it by prayer into the soul of every thought. Let it direct
the helm of each desire. Think, as it thinks—speak, as it speaks—
move, as it beckons—rest, as it counsels. Your steps will then be safe
and pure. For the light of Scripture is the light of life. It is Christ's
hand, Christ's heart. What was Israel's Pillar to our open Bible's
page?
But Jesus multiplies His guiding help. He also extends the hand of
Providence. He moves the ever-moving wheels of circumstances.
No sparrow falls, no leaf decays, but in accordance with His ordering
mind. He wills, and things occur. Chance is a figment of a dreaming
pillow. It never was. It never can be. Thus to the child of God there
is no trifle or unimportant event. Momentous issues often hang on
rapid words, on sudden looks, on unintended steps. It is so, because
the Lord's direction plans and overrules life's every concern.
Hear Eleazar's grateful witness, 'I being in the way, the Lord led me
to the house of my master's brethren.' When Joseph's brethren
thirsted for his blood, who caused the pit to be unoccupied with
water? Who brought the Ishmaelites to bear him into Egypt? Who
gave the sleepless night to Persia's King? Who brought the
aged Simeon, the pious Anna, at the exact moment, to the temple?
Who led Onesimus to hear Paul's saving words at Rome?
But perhaps some mind may sometimes ask—Is this event the
leading of my Lord? There are sure rules. No opening is safe which
contradicts the Word. Christ's voice abroad, at home, without,
within, is always one. It calls to seek God's glory, to promote
redemption's kingdom, to conquer self, to tread down sloth, to flee
the world's applause and lusts, to lift the standard of the cross, and
to march boldly in the path of righteousness. If the path leaves
these lines, avoid it. Christ leads not here. Some foe misleads.
But Christ is a Pillar with more than skill to guide. There is a
virtue in Him to open eyes, that they may see—to quicken feet, that
they may follow—to tear reluctance from reluctant hearts. All this
He effects by His almighty Spirit. Without such light, the Bible-page
is a dark chaos, and wheels of Providence an intricate confusion. Sin
has benumbed right sense in souls. Sin has brought blindness on
the inner man. But Jesus speaks. The Spirit heals. Sight is restored.
A new creation lives—and new-born powers perceive and love and
tread the heavenly road.
The Pillar had power to screen. It is written, 'He spread a cloud
for a covering.' The scorching rays of the sandy desert were thus
warded from the journeying host. Reader! I trust that you well
know the cool retreat and sheltering covert of a Savior's wings. The
pilgrim's day is often long and hot, and darts of Satan burn with
fiery sting. How soon the heart would faint, how soon the worn-out
strength would fail, unless our Pillar cast a grateful shade. It is still
true, 'The sun shall not smite you by day, nor the moon by night.'
The Pillar never failed. Provoking sins abounded. Ungrateful
murmurs sent forth hateful sound. But still no wrath withdrew the
guidance. It only vanished when Jordan's stream was reached. Here
is the boundless grace of Jesus. If severe iniquity could quench His
love, who would not long ago have mourned His absence, and found
life to be a starless night? But no! He loves, and lovingly He guides
unto the end. The Pillar leaves not until the full blaze of heaven
breaks forth. Like Bethlehem's star, it brings to the very place where
Jesus is. The beacon shines until the haven is attained. Christ leads
to where Christ reigns.
Reader! whom do you follow? Think, Oh! think, whom do you
follow? There are hell-ward leaders—not a few. There are downward
ways, alas!—too many
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 18:43:09 GMT -5
The Red Sea
"Thus the Lord saved Israel that day out of the hand of the
Egyptians." Exodus 14:30
Israel's infancy is in a cradle of miracles. The people struggle into
being amid displays of more than human help. They prosper, and
prevail, in the clear sunshine of God's interposing hand. He watches
over them and blesses them, not in the obscure cloak of providential
arrangement, but in open manifestations of His present care. These
ancient dealings are but a map of what God's children always find.
Individual experience is a clear-toned echo to this sacred page.
Many a lowly heart in many a lowly hut sees, by the Spirit's light,
the features of its inner life in the grand marvels of this God-led
race.
Reader! come then, encamp for a few moments by the waters of the
Red Sea. We may discern Christ's glories there, as plainly as on the
shore of Galilee. The host begins to march, only to find that it can
march no further. The door of escape just opens to show escape
receding from their grasp. The joyful morn brings in a fearful night.
The budding flower hangs withered in their hand. The moving pillar
leads to destruction's jaws! The camp is pitched. And what is the
station? In front break the billows of the Red Sea. Terrific barriers
enclose each side. Here stands a wall of rocks, which human steps
cannot surmount. There frowning forts forbid approach. But is there
safety in the rear? Oh, no! The deadly foe, with deadly rage, pursues.
The entangled prey is enfolded in despair. Surely here is the hour
when hope must die. To stir is a watery grave. To stir not is to fall by
cruelty's sharp scythe. The waves, the sword, alike gape ready to
devour. The lashing surge, the battle-cry, speak fast-approaching
death. Earth never saw poor prisoners so tightly barred.
Every child of God has some acquaintance with these straits.
Through dreary years he may have slaved at bricks, beneath the
yoke of hell's foul prince. At last he hears the Spirit's call to peace
and freedom. He quickly strives to burst the chains. A few delighted
steps are made, and Canaan's rest seems near. But suddenly fresh
terrors gather round. The memory of evil days spreads as an ocean
in the path. Wave upon wave presents tremendous hindrance.
Behind, the thunders of the law wax loud. The fierce sword of
justice glitters. On the right, nature's corruptions tower to the skies.
On the left, Satan's batteries bristle with near death. These are
appalling times. They alone can conceive the misery, who have
drunk deep draughts of spiritual distress.
But let no one despair, who knows the Savior's voice, 'Look unto
Me, and be you saved.' Other obstacles hem in the heaven-ward
road. The sneers, the threats, the taunts, the false reports of
persecuting men, form an impeding wall. Joseph and David, and
Daniel, and other elders in the family of faith were thus encircled.
But let the prayer fly upwards, 'Bring my soul out of prison that I
may praise Your name.' And the song will soon go forth, 'He brought
me forth also into a large place—He delivered me, because He
delighted in me.'
Narrow resources often draw narrow bounds. Cherith's brook dries
up. The widow says, 'I have but a handful of meal in a barrel and a
little oil in a cruse.' Poverty obstructs the front. Increased demands
cry pressingly in the rear. But broken means do not break the staff
of hope. He who lives on the bread of life dies not for lack of earthly
grain. The pensioner on heaven's gold will always have sufficiency
of this world's dross! It is not pledged in vain, 'All things are yours—
things present, and things to come.'
The sequel of this history proves all this. Look now to Israel's
leader. He rides above this swell of trouble, in all the calmness of
unshaken faith. Firm trust in God is a bolt to keep out fear. It is a
door to let in peace. The sea, the swords, the rocks, the forts, are
seen by him without dismay. He knows that all is well when God
precedes—that all is safe when God protects—that all is sure when
God gives promise. He had heard, 'Certainly I will be with you.' The
word ensures success. He had been taught that the mighty Savior,
the incarnate God, would spring from Judah's line. The tree must
live which holds that seed. Towering on this rock, he commands,
'Do not fear, stand still and see the salvation of the Lord, which He
will show to you today.'
'Do not fear.' What shall they fear, above whose head the Gospel
standard floats? Faith reads thereon, 'If God be for us, who can be
against us?' But use no fruitless efforts. The waves are deep. The
foes are strong. There is no help in self. 'Stand still.' Leave all
to God.
Reader! here is the Gospel-warning. There is no self-salvation. No
power of man can save one soul from one sin's stain. Cease, then,
the vain attempt. 'Stand still.'
Here, also, are Gospel-tidings. 'See the salvation of the Lord.'
Jesus alone has finished all. Alone He paid the penalty of sin. Alone
He satisfied each claim of God. Alone He brought in everlasting
righteousness. Alone He trod down every hindrance which guilt and
hell could raise. This work is gloriously accomplished. Receive it—
and you live forever. Turn from it to self-deliverance—and self
delivers you to sin's deserts.
The cheering word is added, 'The Lord will fight for you; you need
only to be still.' Jesus is all might, all strength, all victory. All
creatures which are, which have been, which shall be, are less than
the least dust before Him! Who can resist when He uplifts His arm?
Believer, all this power is put forth to be your shield and sword. The
wrath of man, the malice of devils, can never slay a God-defended
life. The tender Shepherd cries, 'My sheep shall never perish.' Stand,
then, behind a fighting God, and you are high as heaven above all
harm. Raise not the battle-cry, as if the charge was yours. Let all
your breath be prayer and praise.
And now the voice from heaven is heard. 'Speak unto the children of
Israel, that they go forward.' Here is a watchword for the Christian
camp. Forward, onward, upward, heaven-ward, should be the daily
and hourly shout. Believer, is your life this rapidly-progressing
course? Alas! how many loiter! The past year finds them no gainers
in the holy race. Others, alas, go back. They did run well. Where are
they now? They paused, they lingered. Dangers threatened. Ease
allured. Pleasures seduced. They turned back. And can they be
restored? 'O Lord God, You know.' Believer, rally your energies. In
all haste move forward, onward, upward, heaven-ward.
Do overwhelming waves impede the way? Heed them not, if God
distinctly speaks. He cannot lead you but in safety's path. Do you
say, 'Go forward' contradicts 'Stand still?' It may seem so to reason's
blinded sight. But faith finds harmony, when grace gives light. We
take no step to expiate our sins, to pay our debts, to appease just
wrath, or to procure redemption. While we 'Stand still,' Jesus does
all. We are saved by grace, through faith. It is the work of Jesus. It is
the gift of God.
But motion and progress prove that we have life. Efforts evince that
we have strength. Works evidence that we have faith. Fruit is the
sign of healthy trees. Warmth is the token that gratitude's bright
flame glows warmly in the heart. Heaven is reached, not by toil, but
in toil. Blessings descend, not for deeds, but on deeds. Faith comes
with empty hand. Christ fills it with salvation. The saved hand soon
brings the offerings of devoted love. Christ dies upon the altar of
atonement. Our lives ascend, as incense to His praise. None go so
surely forward to the throne as they who stand still at the saving
cross.
My soul, mark next the prelude to the final scene. 'Then the angel of
God, who had been leading the people of Israel, moved to a position
behind them, and the pillar of cloud also moved around behind
them. The cloud settled between the Israelite and Egyptian camps.
As night came, the pillar of cloud turned into a pillar of fire, lighting
the Israelite camp. But the cloud became darkness to the Egyptians,
and they couldn't find the Israelites.' Exodus 14:19-20
Thus Jesus is a high wall of defense. He encompasses His blood
bought flock. They who would injure His redeemed must beat down
His omnipotence. There is no passage for the destroyer's sword, but
through the fort of a protecting God. He has, however, a two-fold
aspect. What floods of light flow from His smile to each believing
heart! Others see nothing but the dark frown of an avenging Judge.
Like the pillar, He has two sides. 'Come, you who are blessed of My
Father,' shines on one. 'Depart, you cursed ones,' is blackly lettered
on the other.
Moses now lifts his rod. This hand is first made leprous. Then it is
used as a minister of miracles. God works by humbled means. He
brings down. Then He exalts. Man is nothing. God is all. The unruly
billows heed the commanding sign. Submissive they retire. They
open wide a passage through their trackless depths. The watery
particles cement into solid walls. The ransomed go forward.
Impossibilities flee before them. The God of creation wills
deliverance, and all creation meekly lends its help.
The children of Israel, obedient to the heavenly call, go on in faith,
and reach the longed-for shore. The children of Egypt rush in
presumptuously, without command. O my soul, follow God fully,
and stagger not. But never move without the light of guidance from
on high. Faith walks dry-shod. Presumption drowns.
For a brief moment vengeance seems to pause. But in the morning
watch the Lord looked on them, and His look was trouble. Who can
conceive the power of that eye? It broke the heart of Peter. It
showed at once his sin and pardon. It brought the trembling woman
to her knees. It made her tongue tell all.
Reader! soon will it pierce each corner of your soul. 'For every eye
shall see Him.' Think, will the glance of the returning Jesus seal
your eternal bliss, or drive you lost into despair's abode? The same
instrument saves or destroys, as God commands. Thus the obedient
waves flow back. With resistless might, they sweep the ruined to a
wretched end. 'There remained not so much as one of them.'
The Holy Spirit erects a column on the shore, and writes a worthy
record. 'Thus the Lord saved Israel that day out of the hand of the
Egyptians—and Israel saw the Egyptians dead upon the sea shore.' O
my soul, read it in prayer, in wonder, and in praise. It tells the final
glory of the Gospel—the saved all saved—the lost all lost. Yes, the
Lord will surely save His people with an everlasting salvation. No
peril shall impede their triumph. No foe shall hinder. Trials and
snares, afflictions and temptations shall not impede. The grave shall
not detain. Death shall yield up its prey. The true Israel shall reach
the land of never-fading joy. With palms in their hands, and crowns
on their heads, they shall ascribe, in ceaseless songs, all victory to
the cross of Jesus.
In ruined Egypt mark the last doom of the ungodly world. Too late
they see their madness. Too late they strive to flee.
Reader! take warning. Perdition is a truth which many learn too late.
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 18:57:59 GMT -5
Marah
When they came to Marah, they could not drink its water
because it was bitter. (That is why the place is called Marah.)
So the people grumbled against Moses, saying, "What are we to
drink?" Then Moses cried out to the Lord, and the Lord showed
him a piece of wood. He threw it into the water, and the water
became sweet. There the Lord made a decree and a law for
them, and there he tested them. Exodus 15:23-25
Perhaps joy's bright flame was never brighter than in Israel's sons,
when they moved onwards from the marvels of the sea. Slavery's
chain was wholly broken. Their foes lay prostrate. The Lord was for
them. The Lord was with them. What more could be desired? Can it
be, that a people thus guarded, and thus guided, shall find trouble?
Where the Lord precedes, can the path be other than the sunny
slope of unalloyed delight? True it is, that heavenly leading is
always a right way. But true it is, that the right way may be sharp
with thorns, and rough with difficulties, and beset with
storms. Paul's voyage was ordered, but he was sorely tossed, and
barely reached the shore.
This truth is on the forefront of Israel's truth-teaching story. 'They
went three days in the wilderness, and found no water.' Here was a
sudden check to hope's high tide. They then advanced to Marah.
Water there flowed. It was, however, but a mocking stream. The
taste was bitter, and they could not drink.
Reader! behold two stages in the Christian journey. A grievous
need occurs. A grievous disappointment presses in its rear. But let
not such things move you, nor excite surprise. Are you not called to
be as a richly-laden tree? Your every branch must bend with fruits
of faith and hope and patience. But faith thrives most in trouble's
soil. Hope's note is sweetest in the tempest's roar. Patience gains
strength beneath the cross's weight. The diamond sparkles because
the file is rough. Trials are needful, or they would not be. Trials are
needful, therefore they abound. They walk as sisters beside
goodness and mercy. They attend the believer, as appointed guards
to heaven's gate. No saint sinks in these wholesome waves. But
many a thoughtless soul sleeps fatally, because the downy pillow is
not shaken. Learn, then, from Marah, to expect some bitter draught.
Next, Marah withdraws a veil, and we can trace the line between
a graceless and a gracious heart. The multitude
turns from God. Moses flees to Him. One looks to earth and frets.
The other looks above and hopes. Believer, let me ask you, why is
a throne of grace so near? Why have you open access to it? It is, that
burdens may not crush you. It is, that fears may die as soon as born
—that doubts may wither as a blighted bud. Mercy and grace are
always strewed in rich abundance round it. Faith may take empty
vessels and fill them until they overflow. The case of Moses teaches
this. He knocks. The door flies open. A ready ear hears. A ready
hand supplies. The people's hard and thankless thoughts present no
bar. A faithful servant cries. A loving Father grants. 'The Lord
showed him a tree, which when he had cast into the waters, the
waters were made sweet.'
Reader! learn next, that it is the Lord's wisdom to give relief in
the use of means. He whose word called all things out of nothing
could in one moment have caused healthful springs to bubble forth.
But no. A remedy is announced. Faith must trust. Obedience must
comply. Diligence must work. Effort must be up and doing. The
poisoned Israelites must look to the uplifted pole. The leprous
Naaman must wash in Jordan seven times. The perishing sinner
must flee to the crucified Jesus. The needy saint must hasten to the
mercy-seat. Sloth's couch is at the gate of hell. Activities and
energies scale heaven. Striving enters the strait gate. The fighting
warrior receives the prize.
Reader! you are thus prepared to hear, that in following Jesus, your
pilgrim-steps will often reach a bitter well. But murmur not. At
every Marah there is a tree whose leaves drop sweetness and whose
taste is balm. But bear in mind, the eye of faith alone can see it—the
hand of faith alone can touch it.
Holy Spirit of the living God, we look to You. Increase our faith.
Help us to discern, help us to apply the remedy which grace
provides. Shine on this lowly effort to commend the sweetness of
the 'plant of renown.' May all who read experience its healing
worth!
Let us now take the cases most familiar to each pilgrim's route. The
bitterest Marah is bitterness of heart. Each heaven-bound
traveler well knows this spot. The downcast Heman pitched his tent
beside it. The prolific fountain where these waters spring is an
accusing memory. It causes all the past to live again. At its
command a train of buried sins appear in frightful freshness. They
seem as young as the deeds of yesterday, and hideous as the fiends
of darkness. Each tells a tale which cannot be denied. Each points to
fiery death as the wages of its work. Each shows an open prison
door. Each shakes the chain of ruin's cell. Well may the stricken
conscience quake. A stern voice, also, is heard, 'Can he who sinned
these sins have hope of life? Hell's jailer sneers, You will be mine at
last!' Who can drink this wormwood and survive?
But sweet relief is near. Jesus, the tree of life, extends His
bending branches to the anxious touch. Let the poor sinner boldly
shake it. A shower of healing leaves falls thick. Each yields the
honey of these honeyed tidings, 'I, even, I, am He, that blots out
your transgressions for my own sake, and will not remember your
sins.' 'As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our
transgressions from us.' When such relief is intermixed, the hateful
and bitter taste goes away. The virtue of a Savior's death extracts all
poison from the cup.
Another Marah soon appears. The believer is tempted to seek
refreshment from some inward source. Then nothing meets
him but a brackish pool. What is man's heart, but the loathsome
depths of the Dead Sea? Adam's first sin defiled the fountain-head,
and poisoned springs give nothing but poisoned streams. Alas! what
ceaseless currents of corruptions force their way! Who has not
cause to mourn with Paul, 'When I would do good, evil is present
with me'? What raging passions, what unruly tempers, what vile
desires, what godless thoughts, what vain conceits, pollute our
cisterns with their noxious fluid! The best of fallen human nature is
a miry ditch.
Is there no help? There is, in the all-sweetening tree! Jesus
presents His cure. Welcome the hallowing Savior, and grace will
distill from Him, to make each stagnant marsh a rivulet of health.
He can create a new heart, and renew a right spirit. He can sanctify
wholly. He can preserve pure and blameless. He can work in us both
to will and to do of His good pleasure. No Marah is so bitter, as the
heart when Christ is absent. No spring is so health-giving as the
heart which Christ inhabits.
There is another Marah in the world's biting hate. Enmity still
separates the seed of the serpent and the seed of Christ. The race
of Ishmael still persecutes the child of promise. Motives are
mistaken. Words are distorted. Love for souls is reviled as airs of
superiority. To warn of danger seems to boast of self. Zeal for truth
is termed a party-strife. To depart from evil is pharisaic pride. This
draught is bitter to a tender spirit. But Christ can make it sweet. His
arms of love especially embrace His suffering witnesses. The music
of His whispers drowns the harsh thunder of the hardest
threats. Daniel will tell you that his sweetest night was in the lion's
den. The captive children never felt heaven nearer than in the
chamber of the flames. Paul never sang more joyously than in the
inner prison cell. View, also, the glorious martyrs of our blessed
church. They clasped the stake. They reveled in the fires. Jesus was
with them. They drank of the bitterest brook. But there was no
bitterness therein.
Believer, perhaps you go heavily because of some personal or
domestic ordeal. Few are unused to this affliction's gloom. Is it
your case, that nights are pain, and the returning light brings
langour? Does your frame totter as a reed? Is sickness your
consuming guest? This is your Marah. Bitter indeed it is to nature's
palate. But I am bold to uplift Jesus, as ready to make even this well
all sweet. Failing strength is not a sign of failing interest in a
Savior's heart. Lazarus was loved. Yet Lazarus was sick. Feeble may
be the cry. But feeble cries are strong to move our sympathizing
Savior. His precious cordials will revive the drooping spirit. Can He
be present, and joy not sit beside Him? How many languid smiles
attest that hours of pain are pledges of the painless heaven!
Perhaps poverty may touch your inventory with withering hand?
You once were full; you now are empty. This is your Marah. Who
will deny that the trial is most grievous? But experience in God's
Word and ways will prove, that this cup may run over in abundance
of content. There is no empty coffer to him who sings, 'The Lord is
my Shepherd, I shall not lack.' Elijah had no bursting barns. But
heaven-sent messengers supplied his earliest and his lattermost
needs. The faith which finds all things in Christ extracts all gall
from poverty.
Do you sit in bereavement's solitude? Is a much-loved form no
longer seen? Is a much-loved voice no longer heard? This is your
Marah. The cup is bitter. But Jesus's comforts blossom most, when
earthly flowers die. He lives, and lives to heal your weeping wounds.
Ask the mourning widow of Nain who changed her sorrow into joy.
Ask the disconsolate sisters of Bethany who dried their tears. The
quick reply is—Jesus. Has He ceased to pity? Can His tenderness
grow hard? It cannot be. His presence can fill, and more than fill
each void.
Reader! there is another Marah. The brink of it is at your feet.
Another step may reach the stream of death. The waters here seem
often to be very bitter. But Jesus has efficacy to make them sweet.
Approach, then, leaning on His arm, trusting in His cross, hidden in
His wounds, covered by His righteousness, and you will find the
taste be all joy. The bitterness of death is sin unpardoned. But the
blood which takes away all sin, takes out all poison.
When you have passed this brook, all Marahs are behind you. But
what is the ocean which now stretches onward and onward, without
limit, without shore? It is the heaven of God's pleasures. It is the
ocean of God's glory. The redeemed drink forever. And as they
drink, the depth seems deeper, and the sweetness sweeter.
Reader! are you a stranger to a Savior's grace? If so, your dwelling
now is always at a Marah's side. Your daily well holds the bitter
water of vanity, vexation, sorrow, disappointment, discontent. Time
bears you swiftly to the final stage. What then? There is the cup of
trembling and of wrath. Your hands must take it. Your mouth must
drink. But you can never drain it. There is no last drop. Infinite
vengeance ever fills it to the brim. Eternal wrath is ever bringing
more. The merciless tormentor, with unwearied savageness,
presents it to the lips.
Reader! think of the rich man and his uncooled tongue. Think of the
redeemed. 'The Lamb, who is in the midst of the throne shall feed
them, and shall lead them to living fountains of waters.
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:00:13 GMT -5
The Healer
"I am the Lord who heals you." Exodus 15:26
These words first cheered the heart of Moses. But they are the
common heritage of the Church of God. This day they reach our
ears. May they bring healing on their wings!
Reader! in thought survey the porches of Bethesda's pool. Can earth
present a sight of deeper woe? Malady makes every form its prey.
Each sound is burdened with a sufferer's groan. The heart is hard
which can repress the sigh, Oh! that these pains might end! But vain
may be the wish. For human ailment often baffles human skill. It
knows no certain cure. Are you prepared to see your own case in
those cells? Transfer the sickness from the body to the soul, and
then your couch is surely spread among these sufferers. Sin makes
this world a universal hospital. It drives earth's millions into one
Bethesda.
Reader! do you sigh here, Oh! that these deeper pains might end!
This speedily may be. There is one sure relief. Jesus stands near, a
spiritual Healer, mighty to cause the blind to see, the deaf to hear,
the lame to walk, the leprous to be clean, and every wound to
close. No case exceeds His healing power! These lines are written,
that sin-diseased souls may now be led to drink at this truth's fount.
Holy Spirit! grant Your aid. Show that the malady of sin abounds
throughout man's tribes. Show that all remedy much more abounds
in Christ. The cure will be more prized, if first we mark the many
features of our deep disease. Let us remove the mask, then, and
behold the multiform malignity of this fiend—sin. Sin is a universal
taint. No child of man escapes it. We tread this earth diverse in
climate, in station, in mental power, in mold of temper, and in
frame of body. But all who breathe life's breath are spotted with this
plague. Adam's foul fall infused the evil poison into nature's veins.
Each parent sows this seed. No offspring is infection-free. Cain was
conceived in sin. The last babe must be corruption's heir.
Reader! your cradle may have been wealth's downy pillow, or
poverty's harsh provisions. You may have intellect to command a
gazing world's applause, or you may crawl unknown to an unknown
grave. In these externals no two may be the same. But all are one in
oneness of distempered soul. Each mother's infant is
transgression's child. Sin is an all-spoiling evil. It is a weed which
overruns the garden. It stains all men, and every part in each.
It enters to pervade. Its root is in the soul. Eden saw it planted
there. But its fibers and its branches spread through each faculty of
mind and body. See how it masters the whole inner frame. The
heart first sickens. This becomes harder than the nether millstone,
the nest of every unclean bird, the den of lust's vile brood. The head
soon grows distempered. Hence error and ignorance expel right
judgment. The world is worshiped as a rightful lord. Hell is derided
as some weak fable. Repentance is reserved for dying moments. The
glorious Word is scorned as the bewildered page in which the brain
sick and fanatic glean delusions. The eye is blind to see the 'chief
among ten thousand, the altogether lovely One.' The ear hears
nothing but discord in the Gospel-note. The palate has no relish of
healthful food. The lips, the mouth, the throat, the tongue, are
festered with contaminating sores. Alas! how many words go forth
to spread contagion and to scatter death. Thus the disease runs
wildly through the whole man
Sin is the union of all spiritual maladies in one compacted mass. It
is no solitary evil. It comes in troops, in flocks, in swarms. In our
frames one member may be weak, the others strong. But in this
hospital, all sufferings at once make every sufferer their prey. One
ailment is all ailments. One part infected leaves no part in health.
Sin never yields to earth-born cure. All trials have been tried. But
failure is the end of each. Self has ransacked the stores of self.
Wounds have been washed with tears, and bound with bands of a
strict moral life. The cup of penance and of rigid religious vows has
often been drunk with eager lip. But remedy is not in these. A
feather cannot halt the fast-rushing stream. A little pruning will not
kill the branch. Oil will not quench a flame.
Shall then the sin-sick fly to religious forms and ceremonies and
hallowed rites? Alas! their anguish lies too deep for superficial cure.
Uplifted hands and bended knees, and all the sacredness of sacred
things, have in themselves no virtue to choke evil's fount! The love
of holy service is a sign of health. But it cannot bestow health.
Restored cripples leap and walk and praise as evidence of strength,
but not to gain it. No human medicines give soul-health.
Sin's end is endless death. Its course is sure. The falling stone rolls
downward to the lowest depths. The stream flows on until the
ocean's bed is reached. Thus sin's strong bias rushes to the pit of
hell. Oh! mark those writhing sufferers in the burning lake! Ask
them what brought them to their woe. One wild shriek answers,
Sin! Sin uncured, unchecked. Ah! sinner, your inward malady seems
little now. What will it prove, hereafter? Its present touch gives
little pain, but it has iron arms. The embrace seems gentle now. But
it will tighten into ever-tightening torture.
This sketch is dark. The reality is darker far. But why are these
black colors laid? The purpose is, to form a background for the
Scripture-light. The malady's malignity is drawn to show that one
Physician alone can avail. Look now toward the chambers of the
Gospel-feast. The horizon gleams with rays. The Sun of
Righteousness appears; and there is 'healing in his wings.' Amid
Bethesda's crowded seats, the blessed Jesus stood, omnipotent to
heal. Amid the soul-sick, He as surely stands with like omnipotence.
He comes, and His voice is, 'I am the Lord who heals you.' Behold
His outstretched hands. They bear a perfect remedy. He takes away
sin's poison, and it cannot kill. He soothes its wounds, and they can
no more pain. He cuts its roots, and they can no more spread. Come,
hear these tidings from His Word of Truth.
Your first complaint is, that your sickness is the seed of everlasting
death. True! It is dragging you with rapid force towards a gaping
grave! But Jesus takes your sins and nails them to His cross! Then
in His death they die. Then in His wounds they disappear. He
washes you with His heart's blood. He bathes you in this precious
stream. And never, never are your sins found again. Thus
condemnation is forever gone.
Is not that sickness healed which has no power to harm? Thus
Jesus is the sinner's Healer. He brings in pardon. Pardon changes
malady to health, because it changes death to life. Believer, you are
thus relieved. Let your song ever be, He forgives all my iniquities—
and so He heals all my diseases.
But you still sigh that, though future punishment is gone, yet
present pain still gnaws. The scar may cause pain, which is not unto
death. You are a guilt-touched wretch. And sense of guilt is an
unceasing ache. Truly these tears are bitter. But in Jesus there is
solace for these pangs. No ease can come, but by the Spirit's hand.
He only takes it from the Savior's blood. But He brings soothing
virtue thence and lulls the accusing conscience into rest. He can
present, as an assuaging cup, the tender promise, 'I will forgive their
iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.' He can apply the
calming argument—Why should memory dwell sobbingly on what
God casts behind His back forever? He can teach, that a head
crowned with pardon's crown should not hang down. Thus Jesus
fulfils the word; He gives 'unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy
for mourning.' Thus sin is cured because its pain is soothed.
Believer, will you not confess it? He 'is sent to heal the broken
hearted'?
But you may add, that more is needed to restore full health. You
mourn that the vile roots lie deep within. No child of God is
unconscious of the lurking evil. While the flesh is flesh, it is the
hot-bed of corruption. But Jesus can subdue the plague! By
sanctifying grace He can create a clean heart and renew a right
spirit. He can implant a counteracting principle of godly love. He
can give strength to fight the good fight of faith, to run with
patience in pure paths, and to find no delight but in God's will. O my
soul, cling then to the cross! In its atmosphere evil withers, and
holiness grows firm!
Thus Jesus cures all sin. It can no more condemn nor vex nor rule.
They walk in healthy peace with God, in healthy peace within, in
healthy paths of holy life, whose hearts have heard, 'I am the Lord
that heals you.'
Perhaps you still fear, lest the extreme malignity of your
case should baffle all this skill. It would be so, except the Healer
were Jehovah-Jesus. But mark. His title shivers all such doubts. He
cries 'I am the Lord who heals you.' Almightiness is the property of
this arm! He wills, and it is done. He works, and none can thwart. If
all the maladies of all the sufferers in earth and hell formed one
huge sickness centering on your soul, let Christ the Lord but speak,
and perfect is your cure!
Are you distressed, lest long lying on sin's couch should bar against
you every door of hope? Consider well, the Healer. At Bethesda's
pool he singles out the wretchedness of him who 'had been now a
long time in that case.' Extremity of misery was a melting plea to
Jesus. His heart is still the same. Take courage. If, from the day of
Adam's fall, your malady had rolled onward as a swelling stream,
His tender love could turn it all to health!
Does conscience groan beneath the load of prominent provocations?
You may have turned from many a gracious call. This very case is
met by mercy's sweet voice. Read your sure welcome in the page of
life. 'I was angry and punished these greedy people. I withdrew
myself from them, but they went right on sinning. I have seen what
they do, but I will heal them anyway! I will lead them and comfort
those who mourn.' Isaiah 57:17-18
You reply, that the hand of faith alone can take the remedy. But
your faith so trembles that it scarcely lives. Behold the timid
woman of the Gospel. With down-cast eye, with tottering step, she
comes, and instantly the touch was life. Do but the same—and you
will hear, 'Your faith has made you whole; go in peace.'
Shall all this earnest pleading fail? It only remains, then, to pray
again that the all-conquering Spirit would make you willing to be
among the Healer's healed ones. Oh! look to Jesus's cross. It was
ordained of old. It was erected on Calvary. It is uplifted in the
Gospel. It is magnified in every faithful pulpit. But why? Surely that
miseries may end, and spiritual diseases may be cured! On it the
Heavenly Healer dies Himself, that His death may be the death of
sin! On it He bleeds, that His blood may drop health. On it
He suffers wounds, that the wounded may be whole. On it He gives
His body to most painful pains, that ease may be His people's
portion. On it He lays down His life, that they may have life.
And now He cries, Come, without money, without price. Come,
leave your sickness, and return with health! Will you not join the
blessed company, who sing in renewed strength, 'With His stripes
we are healed'? Will you not enter the land in which no inhabitant
mourns, 'I am sick—the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven
their iniquity'?
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:02:35 GMT -5
Manna
"It is Manna." Exodus 16:15
Food was provided for the chosen tribes, unseen before by human
eye, untouched before by human hand. 'They knew not what it was.'
Reader! when here the Manna is presented to your view, I hope it
comes as a familiar thought. It is faith's way to lay it up in memory's
ark, as the rich emblem of Salvation's feast.
Manna has many tongues. But its first sound proclaims, that God is
gracious. Mark the occasion of these showers of bread. Hunger
pressed sore upon the journeying host, and pressed vile murmurs
from their fretful hearts. The deep-toned mutters reached the courts
on high. Will the swift lightning check rebellious madness? Oh, no!
The Lord is full of pity, and delights in love. He opens heaven to
pour down supplies. The supply is a miracle. The miracle is a wreath
of combined wonders. Each wonder is a rich display of Jesus,
and teaches now, as clearly as it fed of old. Thus God puts on a
diadem of grace, and crowns the thankless with most tender
mercies.
But goodness in bestowing food is mere candle-grace beside the
bright shinings of redemption's gift. They who would see grace in its
zenith must trace it in the Gospel-scheme. When the whole family
of man, in Adam's loins, stood before God, lost, ruined, and undone
—one leprous mass of misery and sin—shameless, tearless,
prayerless—mercy took up the song, and promised that a Savior
should descend, even an incarnate God! Reader! your heart is rock
indeed, if you hear this, and give no praises to Jehovah's grace.
It was all dark around, when this soft shower reached our earth. We
read, 'When the dew fell upon the camp in the night, the Manna fell
upon it.' In like manner, spiritual blindness was the world's thick
shroud when Jesus came, distilling blessing from His wings. So
when His gentle droppings first touch the sinner's heart, He finds
it a black mass of midnight gloom.
When morning came, the dew dissolved and left the Manna obvious
to the sight. Thus for a while Jesus lies hidden in the Word, and
ordinances, and Gospel-rites, which fall in thick and sparkling
abundance around our homes. It is not until the Sun of
Righteousness arises, that the real treasure is discerned. Then
unsubstantial privileges fade off, and Christ remains the whole of
soul-support. Reader! the dew was a fit mantle for this heaven-sent
food. But it has neither taste nor vital juice. Just so the means of
grace are lovely caskets of the heavenly treasure. But he who would
have life must pass beyond them to the Lord Himself.
The Manna was small, and round, and white, and sweet. Each
property tells much of Jesus's worth into the ear of faith.
It was small. It lay a little seed upon the bare earth. Pride would
take up a ready sneer. Can this simple mite proceed
from heaven's store? Jesus appears. No royal state surrounds. No
royal home receives. No royal retinue attends. In lowly guise, He
appears as the lowliest of lowly men. His highest station upon earth
is in humility's deep valley. But meekness is His Majesty.
Abasement is His Glory. Believer, He puts on your flesh, that He
may clothe you in His brightest glory. He sinks to nothingness, to
exalt you above all greatness. He lives and dies in shame, contempt,
and pain, that you may reign in all the honors of the highest
heavens. Your blessings bud forth from His despicable estate.
The Manna was round. The hand which handled found no first and
no last point. It was a surface without beginning, without
end. Behold the wondrous Jesus. Who can ascend to the spring
head of His birth? Who can stretch forward to the boundary of His
life? Who can discern a limit in the circles upon circles of His
being? Look through the ages of eternity past. In all He lives
unchanged, unchangeable. Look through the ages of eternity to
come. He still lives unchanged, unchangeable. Believer, is not this
thought an ocean of delight, as wide as the breadth and length of
your Savior's love? He never was, but with your image on His heart.
And while He lives, your image will be there.
The Manna was white. It covered the mire of earth, a bright
contrast to surrounding stains. Its spotless hue proved its descent to
be from a pure home. Turn now to Jesus. His every look and word
and step are as dazzling, as the holiness of heaven. He was the
Righteousness of God embodied in the flesh of man. He trod this
earth, as perfect as God is perfect. He ever shined untainted, as the
beam from the mid-day sun. It could not be otherwise. Deity
forbade anything else. Impossibility of sin is Jehovah's essence. It
must be so. Redemption needed it. He who would save a soul from
sin must give the offering of a sinless soul. Reader! would you be
blameless before God? Put on Christ Jesus.
The Manna was sweet. The palate tasted, and delighted in the
luscious savor. It nourished, and the nourishment brought
pleasure to the lips. This is the Savior's emblem. He is all sweetness
to the feasting soul. Is it not heaven's own luxury to feed upon
divine assurances that all sins are fully and forever pardoned—all
guilt fully and forever cancelled—all debts fully and forever paid—all
pledges of glory faithfully and forever pledged? Is it not sweet to
gaze with open eye on a reconciled Father's smile—to receive
unmeasured comfort, instruction, strength, and guidance from the
indwelling Spirit—to realize, that ministering angels encamp around
—that holy men love us, evil men serve us, and all things present
and to come are our sure heritage? Jesus is this sweet Manna! Is it
not sweet to be regaled all day at such a banquet, to repose all night
on such a pillow, to walk through life in such green pastures? This
is the believer's Manna. Worldling, is your meal thus sweet?
Each day the multitude was busy in the field. The constant food fell
thick, the constant hand collected. O my soul, let gathering be your
daily work. Time is prolonged, that you may thrive. And what is
thriving, but to gain more truth? The worldling toils a life-long
drudgery in gleaning mere husks! Can you sit still, when Christ is
to be won? Believe me—that is your richest day which accumulates
the most of Jesus. Your best, without Him, is an empty blank.
They went forth early. The sun's first beams illumined them to
their happy task. Here mark, how morning diligence succeeds. It is
the truest wisdom, the surest peace, the largest profit, when
opening day finds you with open heart before the mercy-seat,
with open lip adoring God, with open Bible seeking the Lord. The
arrow long retains the first direction of the hand that propels it. The
vessel rarely loses the savor of its first contents. The day-break
blessing is a day-long gain. Let Jesus draw back your morning
curtain, and He will sanctify the mid-day labor, and lull you to
the night's repose.
Perhaps some youthful eye is resting on this page. Beloved, turn not
from a wise entreaty. Give to the Lord the first fruits of your being.
He is worthy, for He is all worthiness. He calls you with especial
grace—'Those who seek me early, shall find me.' And finding Him,
you find an ever-blessing portion. Apart from Him, you must be
lost. In Him you shall be saved. All is a wilderness of woe without
Him. All is a Paradise of joy with Him. If angels sing with sweeter
song, methinks it must be round a Christian youth. Come early.
Come now. None ever came too soon. Many, alas, have sought too late!
For every hand there was exact sufficiency. 'By gathering two
quarts for each person, everyone had just enough. Those who
gathered a lot had nothing left over, and those who gathered only a
little had enough. Each family had just what it needed.' Infinite are
each poor sinner's sins; and each sin has infinite
demerit! Boundless is the unrighteousness of every soul, boundless
the covering which is needed. Countless are the needs which cry for
countless helps. But he who lives bathing in a Savior's blood, and
suing out a Savior's righteousness, and wrestling for a Savior's
grace, will never say that the blood, the righteousness, the grace,
exceed his daily need. He gets enough, but he has nothing to spare.
He, also, who flees at the last, and only touches with a trembling
hand the extremest edge of Jesus's robe, if it be but the touch
of heaven-born faith, receives full pardon and eternal life. A
crumb of Jesus's merits is the saving of the soul forever!
The daily food was only for that same day. To hoard was to
distrust the daily-giving hand. If kept until the next day, it became
corruption, to be buried out of sight. So, also, in grace, the present
handful is for present use! The morrow's necessity will have the
morrow's shower. Away with chilly fears. The Manna came
as surely as the light. Jesus never fails to pour His plenties down.
Trade, then, with the present stock. The worst of cases is the case of
grace misused. The buried talent cries with condemning voice.
Christ not diffused, is Christ misused. Treasure is not enjoyed, until
it be well employed. He is most rich, who most enriches others.
For every state and age, the Manna was the one
remedy. There is only one dreadful plague. There is only one
precious cure. The highest palace and the humblest cot; the lettered
hall and the unlettered cabin; the aged bed, the cradle of the
young; all alike are tainted with one leprous spot. One only remedy
meets the one malady—the remedy of the life and death of Christ.
The Manna came not through man's toil. But still it came not
to encourage sloth. Active labor must grind and sweeten for the use.
Vain is it that Christ with all salvation is at the door, vain is the
Bible-store, vain is the pulpit-food, except the eager soul gird up the
loins of eager doing. Faith labors all the day to draw out sweetness
from the Gospel-page. With skillful care it sifts each word. With
anxious appetite it sucks the sweet.
The Manna preaches, also, with wisdom's voice. It cries,
Keep holy the Sabbath-day. It comes from heaven, therefore it
proclaims God's law. It comes to be a blessing, therefore it points to
obedience as the path. When will man's blindness learn that there is
no profit, and no peace, but in the ways and will of God? Who ever
gained in Sabbath-shops, or by a Sabbath-spade? From the seed of
Sabbath-work springs up a harvest of soul-piercing woe. Israel's rest
was never Israel's loss.
The Manna sustained the body for a little while. But it was weak to
blunt the shafts of death. In the wilderness they ate and died. But
Christ gives endless life to each partaking soul. Reader! drink in the
tidings, 'I am the living bread, which came down from heaven—if
any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever—and the bread that I
will give is My flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.'
Lord, increase my faith! Help me to see in Your broken body, all
that I need for strength, for vigor, and for joy of heart. The more we
crave, the more we get. The more we get, the more we crave.
The Manna lasted through the wilderness-march. Thus Jesus
is an enduring supply for all life's weary way. And when time's
crumbs are no more needed, eternity's full feast begins. Sweet is the
present taste of grace—but what will be the heavenly feast? My soul,
press onward—and you soon will know!
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:14:40 GMT -5
The Smitten Rock
"I will meet you by the rock at Mount Sinai. Strike the rock, and
water will come pouring out. Then the people will be able to
drink." Moses did just as he was told; and as the leaders looked
on, water gushed out. Exodus 17:6
It was a bitter trial when Marah's bitter spring mocked the parched
lip. But sweet relief was near. The sweetened draught soon changed
vexation into joy. After a little pause the same dark trial re-appears
in darker form. The multitude advance into the desert's depths. And
here all streams quite fail. They thirst and search, but search in
vain. The scene is universal drought. Thus troubles die and live
again.
This is a common circumstance in faith's march. Afflictions clear
away; but soon the self-same shadows grow thick. Joseph escapes
the pit, and then the dungeon binds him fast. David, safe from
Adullam's cave, must seek a refuge in Engedi's wilds. Troops, also,
of lusts which seemed through grace, quite slain in former days,
with mustered force will re-assail old age. The weeds of evil, long
plucked up, will rear again their noxious head. Satan lays Abraham
low in Egypt, and shoots an arrow from the same shaft in Gerar. The
falling spoke of the revolving wheel soon re-ascends. The ebbing
tide rolls in again tomorrow.
Believer, do not think of undisturbed repose until the flesh is
forever dropped. There is a ceaseless cycle of sorrow and temptation
here in this world. But do not despise the scourge. It has a teaching
voice. It is held by a loving Father's hand. Hence the command,
'Hear the rod, and Him who has appointed it.' This school of trial
best discloses the hidden vileness of the heart, and the vast riches of
a Savior's grace. It is so in the case before us. The hard repinings of
the chosen race betray poor human nature's sinful bias. But on
rebellion's base a lovely pillar rises, on which all ages read the
golden glories of the Lord.
The people chide, and tempt their God. Moses seeks the open refuge
of a mercy-seat. How precious is this spot! A gracious answer soon
allays all fears, and soon supplies all need. The Lord said to Moses,
"Take your shepherd's staff, the one you used when you struck the
water of the Nile. Then call some of the leaders of Israel and walk
on ahead of the people. I will meet you by the rock at Mount Sinai.
Strike the rock, and water will come pouring out. Then the people
will be able to drink." Moses did just as he was told; and as the
leaders looked on, water gushed out. Exodus 17:5-6
Reader! draw near in reverence. The ground is holy. That Rock is
Christ! That gash is His wounded side! Those streams are His
abundant grace!
First sift the foremost thoughts which the idea of ROCK presents.
It is a mass of mighty strength. The lashing billows lash in vain.
The raging storm stirs not its fixed repose. All changing ages find it
still unchanged. These properties exhibit Christ. Mark His decrees.
Eternal love arranged salvation's scheme. The hand of sovereign
grace drew the wise record of His wondrous kingdom. This chart is
framed forever. To blinded reason, chance may seem to rule, and
man's wild will to hold the helm. But all things serve the counsels of
His plan. The falling sparrow and the tottering throne, the fading
leaf, and the declining empire, obey a fixed resolve. His purpose
cannot be moved. He is a Rock.
Survey His wondrous love. It yearns over a vast multitude of
ruined souls. It calls them to His knowledge. It gives them pledges
of His zeal to save. How is this love requited? Alas! what cold
indifference, what harsh ingratitude, what proud contempt, what
daring rebellion, what ceaseless provocations, concur to shut up His
loving-kindness in displeasure! But still, He loves unto the end of
endless ages. And why? He is a Rock.
When He sought earth on mercy's wings, all powers of evil met Him
with their deadliest force. The might of Satan is the united might of
fallen spirits. With what ease he sweeps his crowds from earth to
hell! With what resistless power he forges chains to bind men in the
fiery lake! He put forth all his efforts to lay Jesus low. But every aim
recoiled. The battering blows were death-blows to himself. Jesus
stands as a Rock.
Reader! this Rock is near, your one support, your only refuge. Be
wise, and lay your every sin on Him. The weight indeed would
weigh down worlds. But He can bear all. He can bear all away.
Be wise, and cast your every care on Him. Cares come indeed with
rapid tide, and threaten to overwhelm. But let them waft you to the
mercy-seat, where Jesus waits to take them. In faith and prayer roll
them on Him. They cannot over-burden Him. He is a Rock.
Moses must SMITE the Rock. And do not blows fall heavily on
Christ? He comes to undergo all penalties of sin. The holy Law has
spoken from its holy throne. In all the majesty of God it has
denounced unutterable and immeasurable woe on every breach of
its most glorious code. Transgression is an inevitable curse. The
statutes of heaven would be a trifler's jest, the threats of God would
be an unmeaning tale, unless this vengeance in its utmost fury fall.
Who can pass heaven's gate by trampling on heaven's edicts? The
Word, severe in righteousness and righteous in severity, must reign
inviolate.
The stricken Jesus is proof that it is so. The Surety-God meets the
violated law. Can it spare Him? To spare Him is to make salvation
void. It spares Him not. The command is, "Smite the Rock!" The
antitype is the smitten Jesus. He gives His back to the relentless
vengeance, until by His stripes His people are all freed. He is
smitten for them. They are smitten in Him. He dies for them. They
die in Him. The Rock receives fast-falling blows. Thus it is shelter,
and the sheltered are unharmed.
These sufferings of the bleeding Lamb are the brightness and the
glory of our Bible. Let the cross vanish, let the agony be put aside,
let the dying cry be no more heard, and what is the Gospel message?
Its promises deceive. Its hope is wild despair. Its peace is torture. Its
life is endless death. Its freedom rivets stronger chains. They who
trust in it lean on a piercing reed. They who plead it plead a
betraying plea. It is an atonement which atones not. It is expiation
which removes no guilt. It is satisfaction which answers no demand.
It is redemption which pays no price. It is salvation which saves no
soul. But blessed be the gracious God of all grace! the cross erects
its heaven-high head throughout the Scriptures. A bruised God-man
bleeds thereon. In his heart the sword of justice is hidden to its very
hilt. Jehovah's fellow exhausts Jehovah's wrath.
Reader! mark well the smitten Rock. Behold these clefts. They gape
to screen offenders from pursuing rage. Flee to them. Enter in. Hide
yourself, your soul, your sins, in those deep wounds. Secreted there,
you are safe, safe from all foes, safe for all ages. No curse can touch
you. No wrath can find you. Satan cannot reach you. Guilt cannot
ruin you. The pierced side is a God-wrought, a God-strong refuge.
The host needs water. But can the hard stone melt into running
streams? Yes! All things can change their nature at their Maker's
will. To serve His people the sea congeals, the flint dissolves.
Believer, this is a marvel which your own heart knows. It once was
as the nether-millstone. But struck by the Spirit's rod, it flows a
rivulet of faith, and gratitude, and praise, and love. When Jesus is
uplifted, scorn may demand, Can blessings break forth from that
pierced side? Yes! By those stripes the heaven of heavens opens, all
hindrances remove, and a wide channel spreads for grace upon
grace to flow. The wounds of Jesus are the Spirit's avenue. They
send forth blood indeed to purchase pardon. They give forth wateralso, the sparkling emblem of the power of grace.
Sweet was this blessing to the pilgrims of the desert. It allayed
all thirst, it cleansed all stains, it cooled when heat oppressed. But
sweeter far are spiritual supplies from the true Rock to the true
sons of God. Gracious souls are as the parched soil. They thirst, they
daily thirst for clearer views of God, for deeper knowledge of
redeeming love, for brighter light on Gospel-hopes. And they thirst
not in vain. The Spirit gives deep cups of glorious truth. They drink
with gladness, and their hearts rejoice. He is most happy who lives
the nearest to this stream.
Gracious souls need constant cleansing. They mourn corruptions
which still live within them. With hateful wing their thoughts and
feelings hover over evil's mire. They pant for inward purity. For this
the Spirit's help is near. He sprinkles clean water on their wills and
ways, and thus preserves them from the hated filth. He is most holy
who draws most water from this fount.
Gracious souls are often pierced with fiery darts. The flames of
passion irritate and scorch. Nothing in self, nothing of earth can
give the cooling ease. They long, with David, 'Oh! that one would
give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem.' The Spirit
hears, and calming promises are soon applied. He is most peaceful
whom sheltering wings protect and soothing streams refresh.
Through the long way, the supply was ever near. When Israel stirred
and stayed, the water babbled by their side. So neither place nor
time nor state can check the mighty Spirit's flow. All praying lips
shall always quaff, 'If you, then, being evil, know how to give good
gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father
give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him.'
The gift was free. The wealthy and the poor alike required and alike
received. So, also, the call of grace is wide as earth and long as time.
'Whoever will, let him take of the water of life freely.' Do any fear
lest the pure stream may flee the touch of unclean lips? The type
forbids the doubt. The hardest murmurer in the camp partook. The
Spirit scorns not a poor sinner's heart.
Reader! would you be blessed, and a blessing? Drink often, drink
more of this inspiring stream. The grace-receiving are the grace
diffusing. They who live near to heaven attract to heaven. At
Kadesh, Miriam's praising lips were closed in death. And then the
flowing blessing seemed checked. What shall be done? The
heavenly Teacher wisely teaches, 'Speak unto the rock, and it shall
give forth its waters.' It is forever true, 'Ask, and you shall have.'
Moses in haste again uplifts the rod. Where was his faith? Was his
eye dim to the full light of this clear Gospel type? The rock was
smitten once for all. No further stroke was needed or allowed.
Christ suffers once. His one grand sacrifice is sin's one death. The
wound once given buys remission of all guilt forever. Believe,
delight, and glory in the one cross. It is enough. It is an all-sufficient
price. The thought of repetition is ignorance, distrust, and
blasphemy. O blessed Jesus! Your one offering is all salvation. I
would pray unto You with every breath, but woe unto me, if I bid
You die again.
Worldling, you rest not on this Rock, but on the sand. Your hope
fast crumbles. Flee from it, before it sink into perdition. You drink
not of these healthful waters, but of a poisoned puddle. The present
taste is bitter—you thirst again, and thirst in vain. Beware, lest soon,
in hopeless thirst, you wail for one drop to cool a tongue tormented
in the flame.
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:16:53 GMT -5
Prevailaing Intercession
"As long as Moses held up the staff with his hands, the
Israelites had the advantage. But whenever he lowered his
hands, the Amalekites gained the upper hand." Exodus 17:11
Alarms soon trouble the advancing host. Amalek attacks their rear.
Esau's tribe has evil will against the house of Jacob. The birthright
sold, the blessing lost, had deeply laid the seeds of malice. And now
occasion ripens hatred into fierce assault. Believer, the race of Cain,
of Ishmael, of Esau still lives. Be ready. Their hate is sure. Their
wily steps are near. When least expected, they will plot their worst.
How shall such foes be met? He who follows Christ must neither
flee nor yield nor fear. He must stand fast in faith, and he must
kneel in prayer. So Moses teaches. He commands Joshua, 'Choose
some men, and go out, fight.' Heaven's crown sits only on
a warrior's brow.
But carnal weapons are impotent alone. In fighting, by not fighting,
we prevail. So when Joshua struggles in the plain, Moses wrestles
on the hill. He seeks the summit, bearing the rod. Prayer brings all
heaven to the aid. Thus Israel's hands are strong or weak as those of
Moses rise or drop. Large Gospel lessons here expand before us. We
may roam up and down this field and find no end in gathering
precious fruit. But one especial tree calls us to shake its richly-laden
boughs. Moses interceding on the hill shows Jesus
interceding on the higher heights.
Come then, my soul, with joyful wing fly upward. It is good, it is
wise, it is blessed, to be much with Jesus in the suffering valley.
Faith visits often the manger, the garden, and the cross. It seeks all
sin's remission in the stripes, the wounds, the agony, the death of
the bleeding Lamb. But these amazing truths are but the porch of
more amazing glories. Hence it delights to follow Jesus in
His bright ascent, to gaze undazzled on the throne, to mark His
present doings by His Father's side.
What? Is He still engaged in work? Wondrous tidings! Hear, all who
call Him Lord—He ever loves you, and ever labors in your cause. His
eye is never turned away. His hands cannot hang down. His heavens
are the office-chamber of your soul's concerns. Do you ask, What is
His work? Listen, the Holy Spirit cries, 'He ever lives to make
Intercession.' His every day and every hour is ceaseless energy of
interceding love.
Do you add, But what is Intercession? An intercessor stands
between two parties, pleading for the one to look with favor on the
other. The parties here are God the Father, and poor worms of
earth. 'If any man sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus
Christ the righteous.' Before the Father, then, the Mediator pleads.
But is not the Father an overflowing ocean of free grace? Is it not
His grand delight to crown His sons with all heaven's blessings?
Why, then, shall prayers, like constant incense, move Him to give
what He is unwilling to withhold? Salvation's scheme is wholly
ordered to show forth love in brightest rays. It is to aid this end, that
Intercession has its place.
Believer, what kindles flames of comfort in your heart? What decks
your brow with smiles, when trials and temptations throng? Is it
not a view of Jesus pleading at God's right hand? The thought is
rapture, peace, and victory. Remove the Advocate, and all your hope
goes down in gloom. Christ prays, because He loves so much. He
prays, because the Father loves not less. Intercession is the fair fruit
of their co-loving heart.
Next, see for whom this Intercession strives. Imagine a father
begging for his much-loved son, a mother for her first-born child,
brother for brother, friend for friend, the ardent bridegroom for his
darling bride. What cries! What tears! What earnestness! What
moving words! What melting arguments! What strong appeals!
father's
What fervor of desire! What bold resolve to gain the petition! But all
these ties, with all their warmth, converge in Jesus. In Him there is
the deep affection, the mother's tenderness, the brother's zeal,
the friend's devoted sympathy,the bridegroom's burning love. He urges,
These are My children—
the travail of My soul—the offspring of My wounds—My sister—My
spouse—My beloved, around whom My heart has been entwined
forever—the bride of My Father's gift, and of My loving choice—My
portion—My jewels—My crown—the sheep of My pasture—My
wealth—My delight—the members of My mystic body—the very
apple of My eye. Such prayer is as the heart-strings strained.
Reader! are you one with Christ? Then all day long, and all time
long, He wrestles thus for you.
Mark, also, how Jesus executes this office. Come, see the
proceedings of the heavenly court. Jesus appears. This is the
opening act. The Spirit teaches, 'Christ has not entered into the holy
places made with hands, which are the figures of the true, but into
heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us.' He
presents His person. The Father's eye rests on Him. Oh! with what
love, what rapture, what delight! It is His son, His only begotten
Son, His well-beloved Son, His elect One, His beauty, His express
image, His glory, His treasure, compared with whom the heavens
are an empty void, and all worlds' charms a vacant nothingness. It is
Jesus—even the Servant, who has performed all His will—who has
brought all honor to His attributes—who has ransomed all His
people—who has filled heaven with all its song. Jesus Himself
appears. O my soul, your cause is in good hands!
Jesus appears. But in what form? A LAMB is seen, 'looking as if it
had been slain.' What, then, does He show? His wounds, His
bruises, His scars, His pierced hands and feet, His open side. There
is no eloquence like the eloquence of a slain Redeemer! There is no
argument like the argument of a God-man's death. The blood of
Abel cries. Much more the blood of Jesus. It loudly proves that His
people are all bought with a worthy price, that their sins are all
washed away, that they are all whiter than snow, that the covenant
is all fulfilled, and that every grace is their purchased due. Thus
Christ appears as 'He that lives and was dead.' O my soul, your cause
is in good hands!
Jesus appears. But by what right? He comes as one whom office
and duty bring. He is called and appointed and ordained to this
especial work. He comes, because He must be faithful to the trust
received. He comes, because it is His privilege to pass the veil. The
great day in which atonement must be pleaded has arrived. The
High Priest cannot be absent. O my soul, your cause is in good
hands!
He comes, also, with authority. He prays as one who may
command. Equal addresses equal. O wondrous thought! what can
the language be? 'Father, I will.' Yes! It is even so. 'Father, I will.' 'I
will,' is God's petition to a granting God. The kingly Priest with king
like power prays. O my soul, your cause is in good hands!
He enters, also, as Advocate. As such, His Intercession has judicial
force. He states the laws of the realm, the statutes of the empire, the
decrees of the sovereign, the rights of the subject, the justice of the
case, the demands of equity and truth. He unfolds the volume of the
covenant of grace. He claims a judgment in accordance with well
counseled compact. Righteousness fails, heaven's edicts must be
rewritten, if such pleadings be cast out. O my soul, your cause is in
good hands!
Believer, perhaps next you anxiously enquire, what is
the significance of such mighty Intercession? You sigh, Oh! that I
surely knew what are the blessings which He seeks for me. Draw
near. His interceding voice sounds in the Gospel-page. He cried
boldly and clearly from the cross, 'Father, forgive them.' He cries as
boldly and as clearly from the throne, 'Father, forgive them.' As king
He reigns, taking away sin. As quick as the sin-stain defiles, He
spreads His wounded hands. Pardon cannot linger. Sins and
iniquities are remembered no more.
Listen! He pleads again. It is, that His flock may be kept. 'Holy
Father, keep through Your own name those whom You have given
Me.' The prayer is heard. Jehovah's wings become their shield.
Omnipotence defends them. Angels encamp around them. All things
work together for their good. Each foe is foiled. The chosen seed
gets safely to heaven.
His word, also, is gone forth, 'I will ask the Father, and He shall give
you another Comforter, that He may abide with you forever, even
the Spirit of truth.' The eternal Spirit hastens to comply. He flies
with conquering wing into the willing heart. He shows the cross in
its attractive glory. He shines upon the sacred page. He lifts up
Jesus to the enraptured gaze. Without Christ's prayer the Spirit
never comes. Without the Spirit, there is no faith, no truth, no
godliness on earth.
He next gains acceptance for our prayers. What feeble
babbling is our holiest worship? But answers come, surpassing our
largest hopes. How can it be? The incense of Christ's merits fills the
censer. Thus more is granted than the suppliant sought. We coldly
plan, we feebly work, to magnify His name. But we succeed, and He
is glorified in us. But how? His voice wins help and help we receive.
Believer, pray much. Pray more. Think whose prayers are mixed
with yours. Work much—work more. Think who obtains for you the
strength to prosper.
Will Christ ask more? He surely asks, until God's treasury is
drained. He speaks again, 'Father, I will that those also, whom You
have given Me, be with Me where I am.' This is the summit of His
love. This is the summit of His people's joy. He has no heaven
without them. They have no heaven but with Him. His throne is for
them. Their throne is by His side. Believer, mark it, you must ever
be with the Lord. This Intercession is the golden chain which draws
and binds you to Him. It is uttered. It is continued. It is heard. It
is granted. His presence is your endless heritage.
It must be so. This Intercession must prevail. Mark the ascending
steps by which the Spirit leads up to the proof. Read Romans 8:34.
Christ's death is full redemption. 'Who is he that condemns? It is
Christ who died.' His resurrection rises higher. It manifests in
clearer light the acceptance of the finished work. 'Yes, rather, that
has risen again.' His ascension soars yet higher. It crowns assurance
with a heaven-high crown. 'Who is even at the right hand of God.'
But Intercession reaches heights more lofty. It consummates, it
perfects, it applies, it secures complete salvation. 'Who also makes
Intercession for us.' Blessed death! it reconciles. More
blessed life! it much more saves. Blessed blood! it redeems. More
blessed Intercession! It saves to the uttermost. O my soul, your
cause is in good hands.
Let others seek their mediators many, who are mediators none. Let
others fly to intercessors many, who are intercessors none. Will not
you shout that Christ is enough—Christ is All
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:24:29 GMT -5
The Banner
"Moses built an altar, and called the name of it Jehovah-nissi."
(The Lord is my Banner) Exodus 17:15
The fight with Amalek is past. He is given as the dust to Israel's
sword, as driven stubble to his bow. Let mad assailants learn that no
weapon formed against the Church of God can prosper. The arrow
shot against the sun falls back upon the head. The oak rebounds
upon the slashing hands.
But why was sure victory on Israel's side? Because the Lord was
with them. He braced their courage—they were girded with strength.
He frowned—the foe can no more stand. He smiled—His people can
no more fall. To whom, then, shall the praise be given? Shall worms
of earth in vaunting vanity ascribe it to their worth, their counsels,
the leader's leading, or the soldier's might? The thought is anguish
to a pious mind. Without the Lord, what is the best man's best? He
only prevails when the Lord supplies the wisdom, implants the
prowess, and commands the outcome. And shall not He who is the
first, the last, the whole, in all success, have all the glory?
So Moses judged. He hastens to put the crown on the real Victor's
head. He raises a building, not to man, but God. He adds a truthful
name. He calls the altar 'Jehovah-nissi—the Lord is my Banner.'
This is right. This is wise. Let God have God's place—the highest of
the high. Let man have man's place—the lowest of the low. If there
be baseless pretension, it is when dust claims honor, as the worker
of Jehovah's works. The tool is not the worker. The pen is not the
spring of thought. The laborer's spade makes not the crop to grow.
The steps towards this altar give such warning.
But the structure itself is a far brighter lesson. The Spirit shows by it
new features of our precious Savior. He plainly states that the root
of Jesse, David's son, is the ensign (banner) of the Redeemed.
Hence, in Jehovah-nissi, faith adores Christ Jesus as its Banner.
Who hears of a Banner, and thinks not of a battle-cry? Its stand is
among warrior-ranks. It tells of conflicts and of struggles. It
reminds of foes assaulting, and of shocks to be sustained.
And is not the believer's hope a camp? He drinks indeed deep
draughts of heavenly peace, but still the hand which takes the cup
holds high the sword. His calm is like the calm of Jesus, who slept
while billows tossed around. Experience proves this truth. The
sandals of the Gospel are bare-worn on a battle plain. Hope rears its
helmet battered by many a blow. Faith shields a heart which surely
rests, but rarely knows repose. The Spirit's sword is corroded by no
scabbard's rust. Can it be otherwise?
Are not God's children met by an Amalek who neither dies, nor
sleeps, nor spares, nor pities? This foe is Satan. His might is such,
that Almightiness alone exceeds. His knowledge such, that it nears
the confines of omniscience. His skill is sharpened by observance of
every heart in every climate and every age. His wrath is barbed by
knowing that His time is short. His hopes are plumed by
slaughtered millions beneath his feet. He assails each inlet of each
sense. He raises barriers before the throne of grace. No knee ever
bows but his shaft flies. He aims at every worshiper in every pew—
at every hearer of the sacred truth—at every reader of the Word of
God—at every hand which takes the sacramental food—at every
tongue which tells of Jesus's love—at every eye which sheds the tear
of penitence.
But Satan has a world to aid him. He strives to slay each man by
each, and all men by all. He can paint brilliant prospects. He can
raise piles of wealth. He can deck honor's crown with dazzling
jewels. He sets the secret ambush. He digs the fearful pitfall. Like
Jael, he shows the dainty dish, but hides the hammer and the nail.
Satan also has fallen nature on his side. There is 'the body of this
death.' From this there is no escape. Self cannot separate from self.
And self has a traitor's hand to introduce the foe. Self murders self,
when it can work its will. Such are the troops of Amalek. But let not
the believer fear. Jehovah-nissi is God's pledge, that their enemies
shall be put out forever.
This Banner leads to VICTORY. In earthly fight, the end is
doubtful. The brave, the strong, may fall. The few may chase the
many. Hostile hands may seize the standard. But they who cling to
Christ must surely triumph. Before they strike one blow the day is
won. They venture forth with conqueror's crowns, unseen indeed by
eye of sense, but firmly fixed upon their brows. Do any ask how this
can be? The Banner is Jehovah. All strength, all multitudes, are
feeble nothingness before it. Believer, trust to your Leader, and go
forward. He has led through countless conflicts, but He never lost a
battle. He never left a follower slain. The plains, though blood
stained, have never been the grave of faith.
Each soldier may suffer much in mortifying sin. But triumph is His
portion. Is it not said, 'My sheep shall never perish, neither shall
any man pluck them out of my hand'? Jacob had many conflicts—
but his aged lips bear witness to 'the Angel which redeemed me
from all evil.' David's was a struggling life, but his last song extolled
a never-failing help. 'I beat them as small as the dust of the earth; I
stamped them as the mire of the street.' Paul leaves earth with the
shout, 'I have fought a good fight—henceforth there is laid up for
me a crown of righteousness.' Search all hell's borders. There is not
one amid the lost who really fought beneath Jehovah-nissi.
The Banner is EXALTED. It waves high. It courts the gaze of
earth. 'Go into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every
creature.' When man fell, it was unfurled in Eden. Abel embraced it,
and flew swift to heaven. Prophets and seers unfurled it more;
widening hosts saw it and lived. In due time the Lord Himself
appears, and plants the standard on the cross of Calvary. That was a
noble eminence. That was a height which Satan could not reach. A
dying malefactor discerned its clearness from the very jaws of hell,
and found the gate of Paradise in dying. And from that day no sinner
ever turned a longing eye to it in vain. And now the
faithful preacher's voice, the toiling missionary's love for souls, and
every true disciple's holy walk, uplifts it still with ceaseless zeal. In
pulpits, in heathen wilds, in filthy haunts of ignorance and vice, in
thronging crowds, by dying beds, in lonely cottages where sickness
preys and trials vex, they cry, 'Behold Him, Behold Him!' No
distance intervenes. No mists obscure. To the opened eye the
beauteous Banner is both near and bright. Believer, will you not
strive by every effort, at every cost, in every place, at every moment,
to make the Banner more conspicuous? Live, labor, die, pointing to
it. Wave it while you can raise an arm. Earn the high glory of a
standard-bearer's crown.
The Banner is ATTRACTIVE. It wins a willing troop. Jacob with
dying gaze beheld a thronging multitude, and he bore record, 'Unto
Him, shall the gathering of the people be.' Isaiah's rapturous notes
enquire, 'Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves to their
windows?' And He who is the Truth has pledged, 'And I, if I be lifted
up, will draw all men unto Me.' So it has ever been—so it must be.
There is a magnetic power in the uplifted cross! An influence
subjugates the charmed mind. Its streaming scroll exhibits all which
needy souls can need. The conscience-stricken sigh for ease.
The guilty long for pardon. The weary and the heavy-laden seek
repose. The Banner promises that beneath this standard everything
is yours! Here is blood to cleanse; righteousness to clothe; strength
to help; mercy to pity; grace for demerit; life for death; all
sufficiency for all-deficiency. The sinner sees, believes, enlists. He
cannot help but listen. Opposing friends, a sneering world, and all
the wiles of Satan, are weak to stop him. Thus every day and every
hour the numbers swell. And angels never cease to sing, because on
earth fresh converts vow, We are the Lord's. So it shall be until
heaven's army is complete.
The Banner is a worthy theme of boast. Let the vile sinner be
ashamed of sin. Let the weak worldling blush at this silly world. Let
unbelief hang down its childish head. Let Popery mutter its base
impostures in the dark. But let the believer with pure pride, exult in
his high standard. Think—but thoughts fail—say, but words fail—
what noble glories cluster here. Men boast of what is great and good
and wise and lovely.
Greatness? it vanishes when Christ is named. He is the mighty
God. He is Jehovah's equal. He is more ancient than the eternal
ages. He endures when time is gone. He spoke and all worlds were.
The wheels of providence subserve His will. He ever sat, and will sit,
omnipotent on Omnipotence's throne. Great is the Banner. Let it be
greatly praised.
Goodness? He who would learn what goodness is, must read it in
the face of Christ. Is it goodness to deck nature with all things
suitable to please each sense—to robe the sun with light, the air
with purity, the fields with verdure, and man with faculties to
enjoy? Is it goodness to look with mercy on a race undone, to lay
down life to save? This is poor outline of a Savior's goodness.
Believer, boldly shout, Good is the Lord.
Wisdom? It is Christ's name. All its treasures lie hidden in Him.
His plans, His work, His words, are wisdom in the highest. True
wisdom never was, but as a stream from the deep fountain of His
mind. Believer, wave your Banner; there is no wisdom but beside
these colors.
Loveliness? The Spirit, who sees Him as He is, proclaims Him
as altogether lovely. He must be lovely who is God's brightness.
Mark His sweet smiles of gentle grace. Who can withdraw the
admiring eye? Who can restrain the adoring tongue? Beside Him
the sun hangs a black orb, and nature's charms are but a withered
leaf. Sweet is it now to savingly know Him. What will it be to see
Him as He is? Let, then, faith's soldier cry aloud for joy; let him take
up his manly boast before all heaven and all earth, Christ is a
beauteous Banner, which surpasses praise, exceeds all worth, and
soars above renown.
Believer, in conclusion, allow an exhorting word. In every place, in
every company, boldly display your Banner. Away with weak
timidities. Tread down unworthy fears. Reserve is treason. Let all
who know you, know Whose you are and Whom you serve. The
world would tremble, unbelief would flee, if Christian warriors
would rally as a compact band, 'fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
and terrible as an army with Banners.' Take home this warning. Let
no shame cloak your Banner.
O my soul, unfurl it in the eyes of all the scorn, and all the hate of
all the world. Unfurl it in the face of all the threats and all the
malice of all hell. Unfurl it—and all sins vanish, and conscience
accusations cease. Unfurl it—and the flames of hell curl back before
it. Unfurl it—and heaven's portals open. Unfurl it—and you march to
heaven's throne of victory.
You are now brought to the banqueting-house, where the Banner
over you is love. The palace is in sight, where the Banner over you
will be glory
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:34:34 GMT -5
Mount Sinai
"God spoke all these words." Exodus 20:1
Mount Sinai is not rightly seen until the Gospel-sun shines brightly
on it. The total aspect then is changed. Its terrors disappear. The
darkness melts into the light of life. The angry roar is hushed in
notes of peace. Reader! approach this scene with humble prayer. If
the Spirit guide your steps, it will open, as a gate, to Zion's blissful
slopes.
Who brings the sons of Israel to Sinai's base? It is the God of
everlasting grace. His mercy looked on their enslaved estate. He
burst their bonds and crushed their cruel foes. He was feeding them
morn after morn with food from heaven. He was sending streams to
supply their thirst. And now, by beckoning cloud, He leads them to
this spot. They may advance, then, without fear. His counsels will
bud forth in blessings. This mount will be a platform to show Christ
to souls. Grace must continue to be grace.
When the host reached these heights, they are addressed from
heaven. Who is the speaker? The voice is that of JESUS. The
Spirit clears this fact. He tells us, that the Angel, the messenger of
the eternal Covenant, communed with Moses on the Mount. If
Jesus speaks, the accents will be tender love. It is so here. His
prelude thus brings peace into their hearts, 'You have seen what I
did unto the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles' wings, and
brought you unto myself.' This preface does not look like a door to
woe. It seems the first drops of a fresh shower of goodness. An
especial mandate is next heard. The Lord announces that new
revelations are at hand. Especial preparation, then, must now be
made. The people are sin-soiled. Their bodies know pollution's
touch. Purifying rites, therefore, must prepare them for God's
approach.
Reader! you cannot learn too deeply, that we are all infected and
impure with sin, and all our righteous acts are but filthy rags! Do
you see self as one mire-heap of filth? Do you loathe human merit
as a plague-spot? Have you received the warning word, 'If I wash
you not, you have no part with Me?' Pause before Sinai, and weigh
well your need of cleansing before you can meet God.
The third day comes. The mount is fenced. Then clouds of terror
thicken. Dismay stalks forth in most appalling form. Each sight
amazes, and each sound affrights. Is thunder terrible?—peal upon
peal cracks in increasing roar. Are lightnings plumed with wings of
swiftly-flying awe?—a forked blaze pours its incessant darts. Is it a
cheerless time when light is absent?—night with its blackest pall
mantles the heights. Do stoutest hearts wax cold when clanging
trumpets yell?—echo now maddens with their din. Was Sodom's
smoking plain a frightful destruction?—the range of hills flares, as a
murky furnace. Is it terrific to see cloud-capped summits tottering
to the fall?—the rocky mass now shivers as a wind-tossed reed.
But why do all terrors settle on the mount? The answer is a page of
solemn truth. The Spirit's mouth shall give it. 'The Lord came from
Sinai. From his right hand went a fiery law for them.' The Lord wills
now to manifest His Law. The hand which holds it shakes terror
over a transgressing world. We thus are led to ask the purpose of
the Law. Until the soul discerns the nature of this code, God is not
truly known. His Gospel is a sealed book. His holiness is an
unsubstantial name.
The Law reveals Jehovah's majesty. It sets Him on the throne
of spotless purity. It unveils the stature of His boundless
righteousness. It crowns Him with the diadem, 'Holy, Holy, Holy,
Lord God of Hosts.' It cries with trumpet-tongue that holiness is the
pavement of His heavens, the atmosphere of His kingdom, the
portals of His palace, the delight of His heart. It shows what God
is, and what they must become who would appear before
Him. Where is the sinner who will now draw near without some
better righteousness than self can weave? Well might Mount Sinai
quake, when on its pedestal a Law like this is given.
But was the Law now first shown? Far otherwise. On creation's
morn it was inwrought in Adam's heart. The parent of our race set
his first steps on earth in the very likeness of the great Creator. The
Maker's hand could only plant a perfect plant. Man's new-born eye
thus looked unmoved on God. He trod this soil in happy innocence.
His soul was purity. His voice was perfect praise. Evil was a weed
unplucked. Transgression was a path untrod. Guilt was a torture yet
unborn. The law of love was in each fiber of his heart. Adam thus
stood. The Law was in him. He knew that to obey was life, to
disobey was death.
But sinlessness soon withered in his hands. The tempter came. The
tempted yielded. The beauteous fabric of the Law was shivered. Its
promised life expired. Its dreadful curse became our heritage.
This Law, implanted in the heart of our first parents, must now be
heard again on Sinai. It is God's will to show it as a written statute.
Its voice, however, is the same. There is no change in its exact
requirements. Its measure seems to be more vividly displayed. Its
breadth and length are more distinctly marked. But its essence is all
one. Two tables now contain it. Ten separate edicts open out its
claims. But these brief words admit a summary more brief. The
one sum of the demand is simply this—pure love. Without it none
can see God's face. But why is it thus renewed? Is it God's will to
cancel now the many promises which cheered the elders of the
house of faith? Shall the fair page of hope, based on the blood of
cleansing, be scattered to the winds? Shall Adam's race again be sent
to work for life? Must their own hands erect a tower of safety from
rubbish of earth's quarry? Away with such a fearful thought! It
would lead headlong to despair's foul depths. Can the poor cripple
run? Can the broken wing expand? Can the withered tree bear fruit?
Can the sentenced culprit burst his chains? Can the dead arise and
walk? Enfeebled nature might more easily do this, than man's lost
strength fulfill one mandate of the righteous Law. To send him to
pluck innocence in guilt's wild wilderness; to patch a righteousness
with shreds and rags of sin; to mount to heaven by a broken
ladder's crumbling rounds; would be to mock his ruin and deride his
woe. The Law is not republished with designs so vain.
Look steadfastly at Sinai. Amid all the terrors, angels' forms are
seen. A mediator's hands receive the tables. These signs establish
that grace is there. Such is the truth. God states His claims, that we,
with open eye, may see our need. Our sense of ruin makes the
Gospel prized. To those who have no help in self, God's love appears
more lovely, His mercy more merciful, His pity more pitiful, His
tenderness more tender, His forbearance more forbearing, God
more Godlike, Christ more precious, His blood more cleansing, His
righteousness more beauteous, His cross more glorious, His
pardons dearer, His salvation surer, His Gospel the one home, His
wounds the only refuge. Is it not grace to urge us onward towards
the cross? This work is never truly done, until the Law displays
God's holiness, sin's sinfulness, and hell gaping at our feet.
Satan is ever ready to persuade that a heavenly Father is too gentle
to cause woe. Sinai dashes this error to the ground. It shows
that God's whole nature abhors evil, and is pledged to execute just
wrath. The conscious sinner looks, then, for help. There is such help
in Christ, and Christ alone. Thus Sinai drives him to a Savior's arms.
This work is grace. Sinai shows sin to be exceeding sinful and
exceeding strong.
In the world's school, and by deceiving lips, disguise is spread
around the monster's forms. It is but faintly blamed as nature's
blemish without power to hurt. But as light manifests a chamber's
filth; as heat revives the frozen viper; as the sun's rays draw out the
offensive vapor; as barriers cause the rushing stream to overflow; so
the Law's restraints make sin to show its hideousness and giant
size! A sinner thus convinced of sin looks with horror on himself.
Where shall he flee? Jesus draws near. His blood obliterates. His
grace makes free. Thus Sinai magnifies a Savior's saving worth. This
work is grace.
It is at Sinai that the Law makes bare its vengeful arm. It must have
sinless purity. But if offence occurs, there is no pity, there is no
escape. The curse points sternly towards perdition's lake. When this
is known, how precious are the sheltering arms of Jesus! Thus
Sinai's truth endears the Gospel-hope. This work is grace.
Reader! has Sinai proved this Gospel-blessing unto you? If not,
come now and have close dealings with it. It states its claim. You
show your moral principles, your upright life, your inoffensive walk.
But this is not one course of love. You startle. You are undone. The
thunder roars; the lightnings flash; the mountain quakes; hell is
before you. But stop. This is a warning to seek help in Jesus. You cry
for mercy with imploring tears. On bended knee, with broken heart,
you plead for pardon. How vain! The Law cannot relent. No agony
of grief can move its iron breast. The thunder roars; the lightnings
flash; the mountain quakes; hell is before you. But stop. This is a
warning to seek help in Jesus.
You urge that your transgressions were but rare, your penitence
most deep, your reformation most sincere. If this were true, (but
true it is not), yet it cannot undo what has already been done; or
cancel what is past; or build again your fallen innocence. Oh, no!
The curse must have its course. The thunder roars; the lightnings
flash; the mountain quakes; hell is before you. But stop. This is a
warning to seek help in Jesus.
You perhaps think religion's holy rites most punctually discharged.
That hope, you think, will surely stand, which rests on the baptismal
font, the hallowed feast, the constant service, and a strict train of
unremitted forms. How good, how precious are all these, as signs of
inward life, and proofs of a devoted heart! But what is their power
to give unblemished righteousness? It this your best defense? The
thunder roars; the lightnings flash; the mountain quakes; hell is
before you. But stop. This is a warning to seek help in Jesus.
We here discern why multitudes seek peace in Rome, and Rome's
poor flimsy fabric of deceits: they never saw with open eye Mount
Sinai's terror. Its thunder never rolled through their awakened
conscience. They know nothing of the Law's pure code. Its curse has
never struck them to the ground. Their wound seems slight. A slight
remedy will therefore cure. Their need seems little. Human
absolution, and human sprinklings, and human prayers, will
therefore make them safe. Oh! it will be dreadful to awake from
such a dream, when the great white throne is set, and God requires
a righteousness as vast as God.
Reader! if you have fled from Sinai to the cross, this righteousness
you have. Christ has fulfilled for you its utmost demand. Christ has
endured for you the total of its direst curse. The Law, completely
satisfied, claims heaven for you. Mount Sinai's steps exalt you to
the heights of glory. Its voice of thunder hymns you to salvation's
rest.[/font]
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:36:11 GMT -5
The Willing Servant
"But the slave may plainly declare, 'I love my master, my wife,
and my children. I would rather not go free.' If he does this, his
master must present him before God. Then his master must
take him to the door and publicly pierce his ear with an awl.
After that, the slave will belong to his master forever." Exodus
21:5-6
As in nature's field, so in Israel's story, almost every object reflects
Christ. Happy the hand which holds a key to open the rich treasure's
door! Happy the soul which learns the art of feasting at the
hallowed table! To see Christ now by faith is heaven begun. To see
Christ soon in glory will be heaven complete.
The narrative before us seems at first glance to tell but a simple
incident of domestic life. A Hebrew slave is the subject of the story.
His period of servitude is past. All claims have therefore ceased. He
has now the option to breathe freedom's air. But freedom has no
charms for him. Attachment binds him to his master's home. His
dearest joys are there. His hearty language is, 'I love my master, my
wife, and my children. I would rather not go free.' A new ordinance
is appointed to sanctify this willing offer of perpetual service. The
judges must bear witness. An inflicted wound must also be a visible
and enduring seal: 'Then his master must take him to the door and
publicly pierce his ear with an awl. After that, the slave will belong
to his master forever.' Willing consent is thus proclaimed. The
testifying brand is fixed. And a beloved work, while life shall last, is
grasped by self-devoting hands.
It may perhaps come as a new thought to some, that in this
servant's choice, and in this constant love, Jesus reveals Himself.
But doubts are worse than folly, when the Spirit speaks from His
high seat. Read, then, the 40th Psalm. There faith ascends in
heaven-high flight. It hears the eternal Son in close communion
with the eternal Father. It catches these wondrous notes. 'Sacrifice
and offering you did not desire but my ears you have pierced.' Jesus
announces the amazing fact. Father, My ears are pierced by Your
hand.
Here is a grand truth. Read it, O sons of men. Read it, my soul. Hell
sees it and turns pale. Heaven sees it and resounds with praise.
These words state at once, that Jesus becomes man. They speak
of 'ears.' None can have these, except they wear the garments of
our flesh. We have the Spirit's comment. He writes in after pages, as
a co-equal clause, 'a body You have prepared Me.'
But more than this is taught. The ears are 'pierced.' Here a clear
finger points to the Willing Servant's pledge. We see the God-man
stooping to the lowest grade. He seeks a servant's office, and a
servant's toil. Jehovah's Fellow is Jehovah's workman in the labor
field of grace. For God to take us into heaven, and on the throne of
worlds, would be grace beyond all thought. But for God to become
man in lowest bonds of servitude, is grace which none but Jesus'
heart can know.
We have, then, in this abject state, a speaking portrait of
Christ's love. This image is the sweetest fountain of His people's
peace. It is the deepest mystery set forth in simplest terms. Hence
Scripture, laboring to reveal the Lord, presents the Servant's
motif in repeated terms. The Father's voice announces, 'Behold My
Servant, whom I uphold.' And again, 'Behold I will bring forth My
Servant the Branch.' Jesus meekly adds, 'I am among you as he
that serves.' The Spirit echoes, 'Who, being in the form of God,
thought it not robbery to be equal with God—but made Himself of
no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a Servant.' He is a
servant, whose time and toil are not his own. Strong obligations
bind Him to execute another's will.
Reader! come now and mark THE SERVICE to which God calls
His Son. It is to build the fabric of salvation. What strength, what
zeal, what might, what wisdom, what patience, what endurance,
what self-sacrifice, are needed! Survey the hindrances. In depth
they reach to hell. In height they mount to heaven. Their breadth
and length extend illimitable arms. A countless multitude of
immortal beings lie in the vile quarry of vile sin. They must be
rescued from this misery's cell. They must be made fit with all
beauteous grace. Each soul is black with stains more countless than
the ocean's sands. These stains must disappear. Each owes a debt of
infinite amount. This must be cancelled. Each is most justly
sentenced to eternal woe. This sum of wrath must be endured. Each
is weighed down beneath the Law's stern curse. This burden must
be borne away. Satan has riveted his iron chains around each. These
fetters must be broken off. The walls of his dark prison-house
enclose them. The mighty barrier must be leveled. They are all
loathsome in most filthy rags. White clothing must be wrought for
them. In each the nature is estranged from God. This must be
changed in every pulse and every feeling. A new heart must be
implanted. Old things must pass away. Grace must commence its
new-born reign. They are as scattered outcasts in a wide world's
wilderness. All must be brought to hear one Shepherd's voice, and
feed in one most holy fold. All must be set before the Father's
throne, clear of all guilt, free from all charge, as pure as God, as
blameless as heaven, as bright as eternal day.
Such is Jehovah's gracious will. Not all the hosts of angels or of men
can render aid. Deity's whole might is needed to subserve this cause.
There is a train, also, of revealing types. They must be accurately
answered. There is a volume of prophetic promise. All must be
fulfilled. There is a fearful catalogue of righteous threatenings. All
must be executed. Each holy attribute presents strong claims. Each
must be fully satisfied. God would be cast down, His empire would
be a broken reed, His sovereignty would be a shadow's shade, unless
justice remains just, and truth continues true, and holiness shines
forth inviolate. It is no easy task to render these attributes their due
honor. But such is the service which must be performed.
O my soul, rejoice, be glad, give thanks, shout praises; a willing
Servant undertakes to do it! O my soul, rejoice, be glad, give thanks,
shout praises, while you draw nearer and behold the fulfillment.
The time to work arrives. Will Jesus now draw back? It cannot be.
'Lo, I come,' is still the language of His willing heart. He must, then,
stoop to put on human flesh. He must be one in lowly nature with
our race. He shrinks not. He lies a babe of Adam's stock. He takes
our kinsman's place. He, for whom heaven is no worthy home, is
cradled, as the lowest child of earth. Jehovah's service, man's
redemption, demands descent to depths thus low. Salvation's
Servant must go slowly on through every stage of suffering life. Be it
so. It is His food and drink to do His Father's will. We find not one
reluctant pause. He dwells unknown in a despised town. He toils, as
workman, with a workman's tools. Each cup of degradation is wrung
out. The final scene, the bitterest effort, comes. Will Jesus flinch?
He hastens forward to meet all.
Go with Him to the garden of woe. There torturing agonies collect,
which human thought is far too weak to grasp. The sufferer stands
laden with His people's guilt. He is not spared. Wrath rushes down
with outpouring fury. He meekly bows before the just infliction. The
Willing Servant pays the whole debt, bears the whole curse, receives
each crushing load, exhausts each vial of wrath. All heaven hears
the voice, 'I have glorified You on the earth—I have finished the
work which You gave Me to do.'
And now the cross is upraised. The scaffold stands. Will Jesus
hesitate? He is the Willing Servant to the end. Man's bitter hate
drives in the nails. Hell makes its direct assault. The Father hides
His smile. All earth, all heaven, desert Him. But Jesus willingly
serves on, until the mightiest of all mighty words sounds forth, 'It is
finished.' Yes! Salvation is accomplished! Redemption is secured!
Each type is answered! Every payment is paid! Each penalty is
thoroughly endured! The curse is drained! Satan is vanquished!
Hell's borders are broken down! His people are all free! The Father's
will is done, the holy service is performed, Jehovah's Servant has
acted out the glorious work! 'It is finished!'
O my soul, you may indeed stand fearless on the rock of this
completed service. The work is done, is fully done, is done forever.
The heavens again receive Him. The Servant enters with a Victor's
crown. There He still serves. Salvation's building consists of
countless stones. All must be found, and fitly framed together. They
lie on many a mountain's brow, in many a hidden valley, on many a
distant plain. Each is a precious soul. Each must abhor the
loathsomeness of self, and rejoice in Jesus's blood, and cling with
sincere faith to His saving arms.
By day, by night, without one moment's pause, Jesus pursues the
work of winning souls. He sends His Spirit on the wings of love. He
calls and qualifies ministering pastors. At His command they raise
the beacon of the cross. Devoted missionaries break all endearing
ties, and seek the outcasts beneath tropic suns, in ice-clad rocks,
and amid tribes which Satan holds in death-cold bonds. Thus Christ
still serves the purposes of grace. A mighty voice cries, Come! And
all who are ordained to life obey. Onward the healing waves will roll
until the blessed company is complete. Then comes the end. The
glorious plan is gloriously finished. The kingdom is delivered to the
Father. The Willing Servant shows the collected mass all gathered
in, all saved. Not one is lost. Not one is absent. Each member of the
mystic body fills its place.
Reader! at that day where will be your place? Oh! pause. Put not the
question away from you. Perhaps you sigh, I would like to be
numbered with the saved, but how can I have hope? Tell me. Where
is your fear? Is it lest the tremendous billows of your sins should
swell above His willingness to save? If all the guilt of all the lost
multiplied and magnified beyond all power to count or measure,
weighed heavily upon your conscience, still venture to His feet. The
willing Jesus will not cast you out. His heart, His love, His zeal, His
pity, His bleeding wounds, His undertaken office, all forbid it. Let
not His acts on earth, let not His voice from heaven, be in vain.
Did misery ever seek relief from Him, and not receive more than a
ready welcome? Fly forth in spirit to the bright saints in light. The
testimony from each rejoicing heart is one. They all give glory to a
willing Jesus. With united voice they tell, that when they cast their
ruined souls upon Him, He tenderly embraced, and sweetly
cheered, and fully pardoned, and entirely saved. Hear now His
voice. Throughout the Bible, and from faithful lips, it still is
sounding—Will you? Will you be made whole?
Be persuaded then. Tarry not. Let this accepted moment find you a
willing suppliant at a willing Savior's cross. None ever perished
because Christ would not hear. None ever fell into the burning lake
because He turned from the beseeching cry.
But stay, there is another word. It seals perdition on all who stand
apart. Take heed, lest it enclose you in its hopeless doom. 'You will
not come to me, that you might have life.'
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Post by Admin on Mar 26, 2024 19:38:47 GMT -5
The Ark of the Covenant
"Make an Ark of acacia wood—a sacred chest 3 3/4 feet long, 2
1/4 feet wide, and 2 1/4 feet high. Overlay it inside and outside
with pure gold, and put a molding of gold all around it." Exodus
25:10-11
Reader! come see the chief wonder of the wondrous Tabernacle. It
is the Ark. For this the holy tent was upraised. For this the holiest
place was set apart. This is the richest jewel of the sacred casket.
The topstone of the hallowed Tabernacle. Its form was first
displayed in heaven. God gave the plan to Moses. In heaven it still is
visible to faith. John saw it with enraptured eye. We read, 'The
temple of God was opened in heaven, and there was seen in His
temple the Ark of His testament.' Rev. 11:19
All this exhibits Christ. He is the ARK of redemption, the scheme
of which was drawn above. In fullness of time it was set up below.
And now it shines, and ever shall shine, the glorious glory of the
new Jerusalem. When God describes the holy vessels, observe, this
Ark takes precedence. He first shows that which shows His Son
most clearly. It is His will that Christ should be set forth without a
cloud, in full-orbed splendor. May the same mind be ours! May He
fill up the foreground of each thought and work! Let no reserve, let
no unworthy veil obscure the brightness of His brightest smile. God
puts the glories of His Firstborn first. Woe to the man who hides
Him in the rear!
The Ark is a plain chest. Its length is less than four feet. Its height
and breadth are scarcely more than two. Jesus is simple majesty. He
needs no art to decorate His grace. It is impure and pitiable taste
which craves for outside show.
The substance of the Ark is wood. This proves an earthly
birth. Trees spring from this our lower soil. Here Jesus is portrayed
the woman's Seed—the kinsman of our race. O my soul, ponder
more and more Christ's visit to our low abode. He takes our prison
rags, that He may bear our prison woe. He becomes man, that with
man's lips He may exhaust our cup of wrath. Christ's sufferings in
the flesh leave us no sufferings to pay. This is no common wood.
Corruption cannot soil it. It defies decay. So human nature, as put
on by Christ, is human nature without spot of sin. It is a lovely sight
to see man treading earth, and no mire cleaving to the feet; and
breathing our polluted air, without infection's taint.
The Ark is more than wood. Its every part is covered with pure
gold. This metal, put over the coarse wood, shows that our Jesus is
much more than man. Grand truth! Sing, O heavens, and rejoice, O
earth. The lowly Savior is the mighty God! Vain were the wounds,
the blood, the agony, the death, unless the merit had a boundless
worth. One soul which never sinned might buy one sinning soul
from curse. But Jesus satisfies for multitudes, as many as the sea
shore grains, and countless as the stars of night. His Deity enables
Him for the stupendous work. His every act and every pain is as
measureless as God can be. Infinite deaths are died upon His cross.
Infinite obedience is wrought out in His life. O my soul, look often
at the Ark. It witnesses that Christ is very man, a spotless man, and
man co-joined with perfect Deity and so the Savior whom your case
requires.
A crown (or molding) of gold surrounds the summit. This speaks of
kingly state. And is not Christ a king? The Father's voice decides it;
'Yet have I set My King upon My holy hill of Zion.' The Spirit cries
aloud, 'He has on His vesture and on His thigh a name written, King
of Kings, and Lord of Lords.' Who will not add, Lift up your heads, O
portals of my heart, and let the King of Glory enter in? Happy they,
who give Him the throne of every thought, and crown Him daily
with high crowns of praise! Let the ungodly pierce Him with
mockery's thorns. Reader! place on His brow the jewel of your
ransomed soul.
Coffers are made to hold some treasure. They have the custody of
precious things. That surely, then, must be a priceless prize, which
shall be guarded within walls like these! And so it is. The Ark
receives the Tables of the Law. God had revealed His will. He had
drawn on a chart His own transcendent holiness. This transcript of
the eternal mind was folded in this chest. Now look to Christ. He is
the Law-containing Ark. The Spirit, not the letter, dwells in Him.
The world reviled this code. Man cast it from him. Christ gave
Himself to be its sacred home. He hid it in the chambers of His
breast. Hear His appeal, 'I delight to do Your will, O My God! yes,
Your law is within My heart.' Christ is embodied Law.
Next, the Ark is covered. A lid of solid gold is placed for especial
purpose, and with especial name. The purpose is to hide the Law
from every eye. This brings us to the glorious work of Christ. The
Law has a stern voice. Mark its requirements. They are very long
and very wide. Their breadth embraces the whole of each man's life.
They rigidly exact obedience, without one falter or one flaw. Mark,
also, its curse. It has one fearful threat. Eternal ruin is
transgression's doom. Christ comes to hide these terrible
demands. He spreads Himself along the vast dimensions of the
requiring and the condemning code. His life is satisfaction to the
whole. So, also, He bears its utmost penalties. He suffers until its
wrath can take no more. God looks upon His Son. He finds
obedience rendered and the curse endured. An exact covering
conceals all claims. No part appears to ask for further dues.
The lid has an especial name. It is the Mercy-seat. We now are
taught why pure gold, without any admixture, is its substance.
Mercy has no birth-place but in heaven. It yearns, indeed, over our
fallen race. It speeds, indeed, to earth. But its high origin is far
above. Hence nothing but pure gold, God's emblem, can form this
Mercy-seat. It is a fitting name. For what is mercy, but Christ in His
finished work? Christ is the ocean of mercy, in which every drop is
infinite compassion. He is the mountain of mercy, towering above
mountains, in which every grain is God's own goodness. He is the
mirror of God's loving heart, the pinnacle of tender grace. O my
soul, know the full comfort of the Mercy-seat. When your short
comings fill you with dismay, see Christ, your mercy-seat, spreading
His own robe around you; when threatening thunders peal, seek
safety in His covering side. Bless Jesus more and more. His
mercy shelters. His mercy saves. His mercy endures forever.
Can more be added to the Ark? Faith would see some token of
redeemed souls. It looks again. Nor looks in vain. At either end
a cherubim has its place. No foreign metal frames this glittering
pair. They and the Mercy-seat are of one piece. Aloft they spread
their wings, thus shadowing the lid. Their faces turn towards each
other, but look intently on the seat below.
Reader! come learn some obvious lessons from these cherubim.
They rest upon the Mercy-seat. The heirs of life have no
dependence but on Christ. On Him they lean for every help. On Him
they cast the burden of their sins. 'Other foundation can no man lay,
than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ.'
They are, also, part and parcel of the Lord. He is the Head—they
are the members. One sap pervades the stem and branch. Christ's
Spirit animates each fiber of the Church. All are 'partakers of the
divine nature.'
Their expanded wings proclaim their readiness for instant work.
The cry of grateful love is always one—'Lord, what will You have me
to do?' Speak but the word, and swiftly I will fly. My plumes delight
to speed in Your behalf.
They turn towards each other. Oneness of purpose, oneness of
heart, oneness of action, is the pure mark of God's pure sons. They
look not to their own, but to the common good. Without diverging
glance, in harmony and love, they seek the glory of their glorious
Lord.
But every eye is riveted on Christ! They dwell with prying gaze
on the mysteries of the Mercy-seat. They have no look for other
objects, nor mind for other knowledge. Their sigh is, Oh! that we
might know Him more and more, and see with clearer view the
wonders of His person, His grace, His love, His work. The more they
search the more they learn. The more they learn the more they
crave. Eternity must end before the end of Christ be reached.
A promise, bringing heaven down to earth, surmounts the whole.
God adds, 'There will I meet with you, and I will commune with you
from above the Mercy-seat. The anxious soul will often breathe the
longing thought, 'Oh! that I knew where I might find Him.'
Reader! there is no doubt. The spot is fixed. Come to the Mercy
seat! There God is present to hear, to answer, and to bless. There He
will open all His heart, and deal as friend with friend, in all the
freeness of intimate love. Then linger not. Plead Christ, your law
fulfilling righteousness. Claim Christ, your law-appeasing victim.
Show Christ as set forth of God to be an atoning sacrifice, or Mercy
seat, 'through faith in His blood.' As you draw near, God will draw
near to you. In Christ you come. In Christ He meets you. The
Mercy-seat joins you to God. The Mercy-seat joins God to you.
Will any say that the Ark of Moses no more exists? True. When the
Temple fell, this framework disappeared. But Christ, the substance,
ever lives. In heaven the Throne of Grace cannot be moved. The
name is changed, but the reality is one. Material forms are lost.
Substantial blessings have eternal life. Yes! While needs lasts we
may go boldly to a ready throne. God waits with open hand. With
open hand His people take. O my soul, pass often through the
parted veil. You will return laden with mercies, rich in grace,
refreshed with heavenly communion, and made fit for a heavenly
home.
Moreover, the Ark had poles. By these the priests carried it. It was
the constant center of the marching host. It moved or tarried as they
moved or stayed. Thus Christ abides, the inhabitant of the faithful
heart. At home, abroad, in solitude, in work, indwelling Deity gives
dignity and peace. The poles might not be taken out. They kept their
place in readiness for instant movement. It is true that Christ never
finally deserts His own who once have welcomed Him. But let them
watch and pray, and hold Him fast with clinging love and fervency
of zeal. For if the world creeps in, and rival lusts are fondled, His
gracious smile will cease to cheer, His precious presence
will seem to vanish. Let congregations, also, and churches fear. The
poles give warning, that departure may be near. The Gospel comes.
It calls. It is not heeded. What then? It passes on, and may be no
more heard. The true Light has shone on many a spot which now is
dark as death's dark valley.
Reader! let not the Ark thus speak to you in vain. Receive it, prize it,
and Obed-edom's blessings will enrich you. 'The Ark of the Lord
remained there with the family of Obed-edom for three months, and
the Lord blessed him and his entire household.' 2 Samuel 6:11
Enshrine it in your heart. Then all strongholds of sin, like Jericho,
will fall before it. The idols of self-righteous forms will lie, like
shattered Dagons, at its feet. And when you reach the stream of
Jordan, Christ, the true Ark, will lead you onward, and parting
waters will be your passage to the land of rest!
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