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THE PATRIARCHS:
Being Meditations
UPON
ENOCH, NOAH, ABRAHAM, ISAAC, JACOB, JOSEPH, JOB;
THE CANTICLES, HEAVEN AND EARTH.
BY
_J. G. BELLETT_.
New Edition.
A. S. ROUSE,
15 & 16, PATERNOSTER SQUARE, LONDON, E.C.
1895
THE PATRIARCHS:
BEING MEDITATIONS UPON
ENOCH, NOAH, ABRAHAM, ISAAC, JACOB, JOSEPH, JOB;
THE CANTICLES, HEAVEN AND EARTH.
ENOCH.
It is not so much of Enoch himself that I now purpose, in the Lord's
grace, I would hope, to write a little, but rather of the times and the
saints before the flood. Whether it be of them or of him, the materials,
as we know, are very scanty; but in the way and wisdom of the Spirit of
God, they are full of meaning and of value.
A peculiar attraction has been commonly felt in the Book of Genesis.
The simplicity of the narratives has to account for much of this, I
doubt not. Human life is in its infancy and artlessness. The scenes are
domestic, and the habits and manners such as family duties and
affections were forming. This is a great source of enjoyment to the mind
from this book. Such springs of pleasure are at times tasted in spite of
ourselves. We are spoiled very much by the customs of the world, and we
suppose that we like them. But still we find ourselves naturally at ease
in such scenery as that which this lovely book presents to us. The wife
of one wealthy lord, who numbered his servants by hundreds, and his
flocks by thousands, would knead the cake for the traveller; and the
daughter of another, without practising the language of apology, would
be seen by strangers watering the family herds.
Yet with all this there was the truest courtesy. The honour due to all
men was as well understood as the love of kindred. It was not barbaric
life, though simple and inartificial. It was not rude simplicity; but
that which came from an influence that could mould and adorn life. And
that influence was the knowledge of God. The times of this book were, as
we know they were, unindebted to the advance of civility, or the
regulations of cultivated life; but still the state of things was not
barbarous, just because there was the knowledge of God. The hand of God
was felt, while as yet the conceits of polished life had not time or
liberty either to garnish or soil the scene.
It is this which fashions the manners of these early times. Peculiar
they are, deeply commending themselves to a right mind; but enough,
perhaps, to provoke the smile of many who belong to times like ours. For
strange nowadays would be the confidential friendship of a master and
his servant. And yet such was between Abraham and Eliezer, though all
the while the duties and rights of the relationship were religiously
observed. And how unwarrantable would it now be judged, that the
intended husband of one of the daughters, or the son-in-law himself, as
in the case of Laban and Jacob, should tend the family flocks in the
heat of day and frost of night, getting his wages! And yet in all this
there is no moral offence whatever; nothing but what may charm the
nicest sensibilities of our nature.
But that which ought to lend this book its principal power to engage us
is this: the Lord Himself is seen in it in ways and characters suited to
this simple and primitive style. The action of the book being very much
domestic, plain and unadorned, His way is according. Whether He
communicates His mind, or manifests His presence, it is after this same
pattern. He does not employ prophets, but personally makes His pleasure
known. It may be in a dream, or with a voice, as well as by personal
manifestation; but still it is _Himself_. And even if angels are
employed, they are rather His _companions_ than His _messengers_.
In the cool of the day, or the afternoon, He walked in the garden. In
the field He pleaded with Cain, _personally_ pleaded with him, adding
the weight and authority of His own presence to a moment of awful and
solemn interest. He came down at the cry of Babel, and the cry of the
sin of Sodom, just that He might see, as we would do, whether things
were really as bad as they were said to be. In forms of intimacy He
again and again appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; inviting
confidence, expressing displeasure, or conveying His purpose, in ways of
full personal familiarity. And though, in the progress of the book, this
style may grow a little slack, still it is maintained in measure to the
end, even where we might have least expected it. For to kings, not of
the stock of Abraham, the Lord God appeared in dreams by night, and,
without amazement, warned them of their duty, or told them of their
danger.
The ministry of prophets, as I observed, is not employed. That would
have been too distant, too reserved, to suit the general style. Nor is
the divine pleasure communicated through the Holy Ghost, or by
inspiration. That is not the way either--not the _usual_ way. But it is,
as we have seen, the personal interference of the Lord Himself, coming
in a vision, or by a dream or a word; or in the still nearer way of
taking the forms and attributes of manhood; and that, too, not in mystic
dress, as afterwards to such as Isaiah, Daniel, or John; but as one who
was meeting man in his place and circumstances. As a traveller, needing
hospitality, He eats of a calf and a cake at the tent door with one;
with another He contends and wrestles, as a man with his fellow, having
a quarrel or matter of dispute with him.
See all this style of action in the case of Noah. How interestedly does
the Lord God enter into the whole state of things in that day! Just as
we all feel, His eye affects His heart. And then, just as we all do, He
takes counsel with Himself. He saw the wickedness of man that it was
great; it grieved Him to the heart; and then He said, "I will destroy
man whom I have created from the face of the earth." And after all this,
just as we ourselves would do, having taken His counsel, He communicates
it to a friend, passing it to the ear, and the heart, and the sympathies
of another.
It was _thus_ that the Lord dealt with Noah. He dealt with him as a man
with his friend, as well as like God with an elect sinner. And we
ourselves practise these ways. We love these confidences of friendship.
We love a second self. "The end of all flesh is come before Me," says
the Lord to Noah, telling him what had been passing in His own bosom.
And afterwards, in the day of the waters, in the same way of gracious
friendship, when the ark was about to float upon the scene of the
judgment, "the Lord shut him in." With His own hand He did it.
Here was intimacy. Here was living, palpable nearness of the Lord God to
His creature. And this is in character with His general actings and
communications in this book. The glory was not as yet taking its place
in a dispensation, shrouded in a cloudy chariot, or seated between
cherubim. In all that there was majesty and conscious greatness, and the
distance of holiness, as suited an ordered economy. But in the times of
Genesis this was not so. Things were informal, and the action was
desultory; and the Lord was in person, as the occasion demanded,
according to this.
In this manner do we find the action of this beautiful book. The elect
of God are thus, and thus is the living God Himself. It is as divine as
anything else in the Word. And the soul so receives it. And good reason
have we for blessing the Lord, because He has introduced our hearts to
such a book as this. For we are not always ready for the higher things.
We cannot at all times reach them, or obey a summons to ascend the
heavenly places. But the Spirit of God is tender of our weakness, and
has provided for it. The Scriptures, if I may take leave to speak in a
figure, have change of air and change of scene for our souls.
It is relish and appetite we have to covet, beloved--a holy delight in
the things of God, whether they be the things of the "children" or of
the "fathers;" the pure milk or the strong meat. _Little_ ones in His
school are still _living_ ones. That is the blessed thing. He who liveth
in the mere power of intellect, or in the schools of men, is dead while
he liveth.
There is, however, another thing to be said on the times and on the Book
of Genesis.
In those times, or, as the apostle speaks, "from Adam to Moses," _law_
did not give character to the state of the people of God. Adam was under
law in Eden, and so were the children of Israel after the day of Mount
Sinai. But not so the generations from Adam to Moses. Sin was equally in
the world, but there was no law. Rom. v. 14.
But not only, I may observe, were they not under law; there was also
almost a total absence of moral or preceptive instruction. Much
revelation of the divine pleasure and counsels there was; but scarcely
anything of precept. Under the Spirit, revelation worked its result on
character and conduct, and formed the mind and the ways of the saints.
Evil was resented by them, and judged of God; but without a written
standard of right and wrong. Without any law against murder, Cain is
exposed; without a fifth commandment, Ham's dishonour of his father is
punished. And so Jacob's guile is visited and resented by the Lord; and
the wicked way of Joseph's brethren. And without the light of any
precept the soul of a saint can thus plead with temptation, How can I do
this great wickedness, and sin against God?
All this is so, though neither law nor moral instruction was then
published. It was revelation in matters of faith which, under the
Spirit, formed patriarchal character. Abraham was not enjoined either
his altar or his tent; but his call of God, through the Spirit,
suggested both. No precept required his high, generous treatment of Lot;
but his faith and hope in God dictated and commanded it. Without
direction on the case, his knowledge of God and the mind of Christ that
was in him disposed him, and taught him to let the potsherds of the
earth strive with their fellows, but as soon as his kinsman was a
captive to go forth for his deliverance. No word, no oracle from God,
distinguished for him between the king of Salem and the king of Sodom;
but the light that was in him did.
I might go through other histories in this book, and find these same
things. The holy judgment of the mind that was in them, under the
Spirit, suggested to those early saints conduct by means of revelation,
promise, and calling of God. And this is ever beautiful, when we get
genuine samples or instances of it.
Such then are among the characteristics of this earliest and infant age
of our history, and of the precious book which records it. And this
earliest method in the way of the Lord is to be the last and the abiding
method. In Genesis, as we have seen, the Lord God acted "in the human
guise," being personally present in the scene, and seeking the nearest
intimacy with His creature. And this is to be the eternal thing when
dispensations are over. God in manhood is to be for ever!
Precious mystery! Unfathomable wonder! Blessed to ponder this. The first
is to be the last. The song of salvation--the "song of Moses"--was the
first breath of the ransomed tribes. It was sung on the banks of the Red
Sea, just as they had got beyond the reach of Pharaoh. After experiences
were different. They had then to do with themselves. But at first the
victory of the divine "man of war" was everything to them. And this
first thing is to be the eternal thing. The song of Moses is to fill the
courts of glory. Exodus xv.; Rev. xv. And so in earliest days, in
Genesis days, the divine presence was not deemed strange, or something
which did not suit the earth, or belong to man. The divine courtesies
were then, so to speak, freely given, and unsuspectingly received. And
so at the end, in days of millennial heavens and earth, the Lord God
will be personally again in the scene.
The first five chapters of this book give us an account of antediluvian
times, or, as they have been called, "the world before the flood." And
it is those chapters I now purpose to look at a little particularly.
The whole opens, as of course, with the work of creation. I speak not
particularly of this. But, instructed by the apostle, we may say that it
is only _faith_ which deals justly with this great work. Faith puts God
above all the things that were made, or are seen. "Through faith we
understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that
things which are seen were not made of things which do appear." Faith
treats God worthily--the only principle in the soul which does so. He
dwells "in the light which no man can approach unto." Faith owns this.
The wisdom of men busies itself in seeing or inspecting Him. But though
He will "show" great things of Himself, yet does faith know that no man
hath seen or can see Him. 1 Tim. vi. It enjoys all His manifestations;
but inspects not His dwelling-place in light.
The second chapter exhibits the man made in the image of God, in his
estate in the garden of Eden. All there was tributary to him, all was
for him. He had food for all the faculties and desires of his nature,
and provision of all desirable things. He was made, however, to _impart_
as well as to receive; and that is ever a necessary feature in the
happiness of a well-ordered mind. He was important to the garden, as the
garden was important to him. He had "to dress it and to keep it." And he
saw his dwelling-place the spring-head of a fruitful river, which went
forth with life and refreshing to the whole earth. With all this the
voice of a Sovereign was heard. A command went forth. "Of the tree of
the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat." But this was no
trespass, no discordant note on the ear of Adam. God will not, and
cannot, give His glory to another. And a creature of a right thought,
"made upright," as Adam was, must delight in having it so. All this was
therefore only harmonious and consistent happiness.
To perfect his condition the Lord God celebrates for him a coronation
day, and a day of espousals. But this action has an order in it. The
Lord takes counsel with Himself about Adam's espousals. This is done
_first_. Then He introduces him to the scene of his sovereignty. He
brings the creatures of the field and of the air to Adam, to see what he
would call them, and whatsoever he called every living creature, that
was the name thereof. This was investing him with dominion, setting the
crown royal on his head. Then He prepares the help-meet, and presents
Eve to him, following his coronation with his marriage.
This is the order of these events--an order which has a sacred and
interesting sense in it. It is not the mere progress of independent
facts. It is the design, so to speak, of a great master. For there is,
as we now know, a mystery which had been "hid in God," "purposed in
Himself," before the foundation of the world, His secret (Eph. iii.), of
which this marriage in the garden of Eden was the type. Eph. v. And
according to this the Lord, in the solitude of His own presence, in the
musings of His own bosom, ere He led forth Adam into his kingdom,
prepares his help-meet for him.
This, however, is not merely the _design of a great master_, but the
_well-known way of a perfect love_.
The _richest_ purpose of joy is the _first_ in counsel.
The Lord's earliest thought was about Adam's best blessing. The
help-meet at his side, the one like unto him, his companion, was
destined to be more to him than all beside. And that which was chief in
his enjoyments was the earliest and deepest thought in the mind of his
Lord. His Lord pondered it. He spoke of it to Himself. His coronation
was taken in hand at once and disposed of; but the getting of his
help-meet for him was counselled and talked of beforehand.
This is the way that love would take. We know it ourselves. We like to
dwell in thought over the materials of the happiness of one we love. So
that all this is sweet and important to our hearts; for we read in it
that which may again draw out the admiration and the worship, "Behold,
what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us!"
And Adam at once owns all this. Out of the abundance of the heart the
mouth speaks. "This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh," he
says, as he received the woman from the hand of the Lord God, owning
that all was now complete. The serpent may by-and-by insinuate it to be
otherwise. But he is a liar. There is not a flaw in all this estate. No
lack, and no exception. Nothing that did not in its way contribute to
bless him; and nothing of creature blessedness that was wanting to him.
But all this is at once envied by the great enemy. And he had title to
try the stability of it. The nakedness, the unshamed nakedness, of the
man and the woman was innocency. Yes, but it was also _exposure_. The
creature was to be proved. Strength of creaturehood was to be tried. And
the enemy had title to enter the garden to carry on the trial. He was no
trespasser there. The order and purpose of creation made room for him,
as well as for Adam himself. The very instrument by which he was to
conduct his designs was there already. The tree of knowledge was in the
midst of the garden.
The tempter, this serpent that was "more subtil than any beast of the
field," was the devil. This is directly told us. Rev. xii. 9; xx. 2. And
the scene around us to this hour tells of his victory. "The present evil
world," whether in its moral condition or in its circumstances, we get
in this chapter iii. And we might have expected this; for the world as
it now is has derived itself out of the apostasy of Adam; its character
and condition are formed by that great act of rebellion.
The three master-principles which animate "the course" of it--"the lust
of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life"--are here
seen to become the springs of moral action in the heart of the woman, as
soon as she listened to the devil; for the soul that gives up God must
find out other masters, and other resources. And this is the world. The
world has no confidence in God, nothing to bind it to Him, nothing to
give it rest in Him, no sense of His love and truth. Such has it been
since this hour, when man gave ear to the accuser of God. It has
therefore found out other objects. God made man upright; but he has
sought out many inventions. Eccles. vii. 29.
Conscience, too, is quickened into being. Sin did this. "They knew that
they were naked." And it was then, at the hour of its birth, as it is to
this hour, an _uneasy_ conscience, a conscience that makes cowards of
all who carry it. "I was afraid," says Adam (unable to look at God),
"because I was naked." Conscience in man must be of this quality, for it
owes its existence to sin. There was no sense of good and evil in him
till he sinned; and this sense, thus acquired, must leave him a coward
in the presence of the _righteous_ One.
Instinctively they make themselves aprons. This is our doing still. Our
common state of guilt makes us shun even our fellow-creatures. We cannot
stand inspection even from them. One great and constant effort, in the
scene around us every day, is to escape _full_ notice. The apron is
still invented. The social system understands and allows this. Indeed,
it is maintained by a common consent of this sort. And religion, in its
way and measure, as well as the rules and common understanding of
society, helps in all this. But "the presence of the Lord God" is a
different element from that of the presence of our fellows. No rules
which sustain the social system will make that tolerable for a moment.
The clothing and the ceremony, the inventions of society, or the good
manners that array and adorn it, will be found vanity. All have come
short of _His_ glory. Let but the conscience hear the tread of His foot,
or the sound of His voice in the garden, and no attempt will be equal to
that moment. Even religious inventions will all be vain. They can give
no confidence with God, nor turn the current of the heart. With his
apron upon him, Adam hides himself among the trees of the garden.
This teaches holy and solemn lessons. But with all this cowardice there
is effrontery. "The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of
the tree." Man lays the mischief down at God's door. He says in effect,
"Let God see to it; for the woman is His creature, and He gave her to
me;" as he still, in the spirit of his mind, says, "Let God see to it;
for the world is His, and He made it." A strange and horrible union! The
insolence of the heart charging God, and yet a coward conscience unable
to meet Him. The sinner may talk big, and make a noise; he may reason
upon God and his own condition, and frame speeches and arguments as well
as aprons; but in spite of all he can surround himself with, there he
is, like Adam, ashamed of himself, and afraid of God. Man has wronged
the blessed God, and avoids Him. He charges Him, and yet is afraid to
look in His face while he does so. All this, in spite of himself,
witnesses against him. "Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee," the
Lord has but to say. And then, as again in the parable, he must be
speechless.
Such was the mind of Adam then, and such is human nature still. But if
this were his moral condition, what were his circumstances? Just those
of man to this hour also. By the sweat of his face he was to get bread,
and in the sorrow of his heart to eat of it; and that too in the place
of thorns and thistles. And in like sorrow the woman was to bring forth
children; and all this till they both returned to the dust, out of which
they had been taken. And man is still after this manner, outside the
garden, conversant with toil and sorrow. Dressing and keeping a lovely
surface and a fruitful soil is not the thing or the allotment now.
Thorns and thistles and an unkindly reluctant ground are to be contended
with, and life to be had by the sweat of the face in the contest.
God alone is above this water-flood, able to manage this mighty
catastrophe. And His supremacy is such that He will make even such an
eater yield meat, and get sweetness out of even this strong one.
In a glorious sense, however, redemption is far more than remedy of a
mischief, or relief, even with advantage, for an injured, ruined
creation. Creation, rather, is the servant of redemption; for
"redemption is no afterthought." For the pleasure of Him who sits upon
the throne all things are and were created. But that very throne has
_the rainbow round about it_ (Rev. iv.), the sign of covenant
faithfulness, and that all things were to stand _in redemption_, or in
the value of the blood of Jesus. So that when sin entered, the Lord God
was at once prepared for it (I speak as a man); prepared to meet it by
covenant arrangements made before the world began, as His very first
word to the serpent tells us, "I will put enmity between thee and the
woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and
thou shalt bruise his heel."
Here the great way of God opens upon us. This promised Seed of the
woman, here revealed, is _God's provision for dead and ruined man_, in
the face of all the malice and wrath of the enemy. And He is this _at
all personal cost_; for the serpent was to bruise His heel. But though
bruised, _He was to achieve a glorious victory_; for He was to bruise
the serpent's head.
These are the holy, august characters of this mysterious stranger--this
promised Deliverer or Kinsman. Such was the truth revealed on the first
moment of our sin, and such has been the truth ever since. This gospel,
published in the first promise in the face of the devil himself, is
maintained in these last days by the apostle, in the face of men on
earth and angels in heaven. Gal. i. 8. Whether it be the earliest or the
latest preaching of it, this glorious gospel is still the same. It is
"the witness of God which He hath testified of His Son." It is the
gospel of the bruised and yet victorious Seed of the woman. In the
bright and perfect idea of it man is silent and passive. Abram had only
to _believe_, and righteousness was imputed to him. Israel had but to
_stand by_ and see God's salvation. Joshua in Zechariah iii., the
prodigal, the convicted adulteress, are all in like case. And here, at
the beginning of our sin, and the beginning of God's gospel, it is just
the same. Adam has only to _listen_, and through hearing to believe and
live. The word is nigh us, and we have but to receive it without working
anything in the heights above, or in the depths beneath. The
_activities_ are God's; the _sacrifices_ are God's. The profoundness of
our silence and passiveness in _becoming_ righteousness is only equalled
by the greatness of the divine activity and sacrifice in _acquiring_
righteousness for us. In the sight of such a mystery we may well stand
and say, "What hath God wrought!" "Simple indeed it is to us," as one
once said, "but it cost _Him_ everything."
There is nothing in the heart of man like faith in this gospel. The
faith of a poor sinner in the redeeming grace of God is the most
beautiful condition the soul can be in. As saints, beloved, we may trust
God for our need. We may look to Him for counsel, or for provision. We
may trust Him to vindicate our doings, comfort us in sorrow, and
strengthen us in difficulties. But the faith of a sinner, in the
justifying grace and work of His divine Saviour, transcends them all.
Nothing is so precious, for nothing apprehends God in so glorious a
character, or gives Him to the soul in so wondrous a relationship. This
faith it is which uses the richest resources in God, and acts upon the
most blessed discoveries of Him. For while all the ways of His glory
shine brightly--His strength, and comfort, and wisdom for His needy
saints--yet, that He has grace and salvation for sinners, this excelleth
them all.
The Spirit of God, in these early times, gives us some most precious
samples of this most precious faith; as though (may I say it?)
delighting in such a thing, He produced an impression of the finest
character _at once_, as soon as occasion served.
Thus Adam, in his faith, talked only of life, though in the midst of
death--death, which he himself had brought in, a standing witness
against him. He was doomed to be an outcast in a scene of ruin which his
own sin had produced. He knew this and allowed it. But he had listened
to the story of the conflict between his destroyer and the woman's Seed.
In the very place of judgment--from among the trees of the garden, where
conscience had driven him--his ear had caught the sound of the sweet
gospel, not of mercy merely, but propitiation and victory, and forth he
comes, talking of life. He called his wife "Eve," the mother of all
living. All life was in the promised Kinsman-Redeemer. In creation Adam
himself had been constituted head of life--"Be fruitful, and multiply,
and replenish the earth;" but that, in his esteem, was now forfeited and
gone. Life must flow in a new channel--"He that hath the Son hath life,
and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life."
How grand in its very simplicity all this was! And there was recovery
also of _moral_ glory, in a great sense, in all this. Adam had not
_submitted_ himself to the _majesty_ of God, but affected to be as God.
But now he does _submit_ himself to the _righteousness_ of God. His
shoulders bowed themselves to receive the covering wrought for his
nakedness by God's own hand. See Rom. x. 3. He was now honouring God the
Redeemer, though he had just before been doing all he could to dishonour
God the Creator--so simply was he led by the Spirit to value the divine
provision for a sinner in the promise of our bruised but victorious
Kinsman.
In like manner, Eve. She had listened to the same promise, and
therefore, as soon as she had brought forth her first-born, she gives
witness that this promise lived chief in the thoughts of her heart. "I
have gotten a man from the Lord," said she. She as much overlooked
herself as Adam did. She gloried only in her Seed. She had listened to
the promise with too faithful an ear to mistake herself for her Seed. It
was not over herself, but over him, that she now, in the language of
another mother, was singing, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my
spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour!" There was a mistake here, it is
true. But there was witness how the object of faith filled her visions,
and the expectations of faith stirred in her heart. And so soon as
disastrous events manifest her mistake, and prove to her that this
first-born of her womb was anything rather than the promised Seed--that
instead of being the bruiser of the serpent's head, he turned out to be
the murderer of his brother--still is she found on the rock where faith
had fixed her soul. "Let God be true, but every man a liar," was her
triumph. Over Seth she exclaims, "God hath appointed me another seed
instead of Abel, whom Cain slew." Though every cistern fail, she knows
the fountain cannot. One son had been a murderer, and another his
victim; but still God is true. "I will sing of the mercies of the Lord
_for ever_; with my mouth will I make known thy faithfulness to all
generations."
Precious faith, we may say, "like precious faith," with Adam, and with
us, beloved. So Abel. Faith in him had respect to the same promise, the
same gospel. The word had spoken of a _bruised_ Deliverer; and
accordingly it is a victim, a bruised or bloody sacrifice, he lays on
God's altar. But not only so. He brings the _fat_ of the victim
likewise. He knows the delight which God Himself takes in the provisions
of His own grace. He knows that He is pleased with the work of His own
hand. He understands that God is a cheerful giver, that there is no
grudging in the gift of grace. In spirit he hears the music which the
Father's command has awakened in His own house over His returned
prodigal. In the delight with which God Himself had clothed the naked
sinner with coats which His own hand had willingly wrought (a happier
task than even the six days of creation), the faith of Abel seems to
glory. And as thus the richest joy that is felt in all the costly
mystery of redemption is felt by God Himself, he lays the richest part
of the victim, the fat of the animal, on the altar, making _that_ the
Lord's own portion in this feast of love and joy, in His own house, and
at His own table.
This was another most excellent sample of a sinner's faith. Abel, in
spirit, was in Luke xv.--that chapter which tells us that the Lord's own
joy in it may account for the gospel. And all these are _pattern_ works
of the Spirit, forming the faith of sinners. There is no questioning of
God's grace, no uneasy reflections on creature-worthlessness, though
there was plenty of cause for that. The strength, the liberty, the
triumph of the promise live in their souls.
And let me add, that if the confession of Lamech (chapter iv. 23, 24) be
the utterance of a convicted believing sinner (as I believe it is), it
is only another equally fine expression of this same early and excellent
faith. It is of an order worthy to stand with that of Adam, or of Eve,
or of Abel; fervent, strong, unquestioning, and full of liberty.
God's word to Cain had revealed a great truth--that He, and He _alone_,
has to do with a sinner. Others, like Abel, may suffer; but all sin is
directly done against God, and He asserts His title to deal with it
alone. "Whosoever slayeth Cain [the Lord therefore says], vengeance
shall be taken on him sevenfold."
This great truth, so unspeakably precious to faith, Lamech seems to have
received and fed upon, until his whole soul triumphed in it. Not merely
_preservation_ from man, like Cain, does he count upon, but _salvation_,
"the salvation of God." Learning that as a sinner he was _alone_ with
God, he takes that place, and there discovers how God can deal with him,
even in the security and provisions of grace; and that discovery is the
light in which his soul at once walks. Like Job, afterwards, he
publishes his confession far and wide. "Hear my voice, ye wives of
Lamech," he says; "hearken unto my speech." Then in true gospel
intelligence he magnifies sin, and owns that it was his destruction. "I
have slain a man to my wounding, and a young man to my hurt." But then
again, in true gospel simplicity, he much more magnifies grace. "If Cain
be avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech seventy and sevenfold." In his
thoughts, "where sin abounded, grace did much more abound." He is of the
very mind and temper of Paul. His confidence and victory are apostolic.
He seems to sing--
"I hear the accuser roar
Of ills that I have done;
I know them well, and thousands more--
Jehovah findeth none."
A glorious sight his faith takes of the whole mystery, and of the
boundlessness and riches of grace. He listens to the provisions of grace
(when alone with God), and the charging of the law, the accusings of
Satan, the alarms of conscience, and the self-righteous reproaches of
men, are not heard.[1]
[1] I do not, however, assume that Lamech was a murderer; but he could
identify himself with such. With Paul, he could, in the sense of
what he was before God, speak of himself as chief of sinners. And
we know also that the repentant Remnant of the latter day will, in
their confession, quite take the place of blood-guiltiness after
this manner. They will look to Him whom they pierced. They will,
in the spirit of Daniel or Nehemiah, make themselves one with the
guilty nation.
These operations of the Spirit through the promise on the souls of
sinners are truly beautiful. The apron of fig-leaves drops off, or is
rather cast away, when such operations go on. It is found _unnecessary_
now, as it was found _insufficient_ before. And so all the inventions of
men. They are the contrivances of the wrong-doer himself, the efforts of
the creature, the devices of the sinner, and they can _therefore_ never
do. But they are as unnecessary as they are insufficient. The coat of
skin, the work of God Himself, has made them so.
There is, however, something which this glorious relief provided for the
sinner does _not_ accomplish. The thorns and the thistles of the cursed
ground remain; and with them the sweat of the face, and the sorrow of
the heart, and then the return of dust to dust. As to this hour. We
shine in "the righteousness of God," adorned under His own eye, and by
His own hand dressed for His presence; but all the while pressures and
hindrances and sore grievances wait on the tilling of the earth; and
pains bring us into the world, till we return to the dust from whence we
came. Neither does this glorious provision of grace displace the
cherubim. They accompany it rather. They are stationed at the eastern
gate of the garden, with their flaming sword, to keep every way of the
tree of life; and no promise which Adam had listened to, no covering
which Adam had received, changes this. Man's capacity to regain that
tree is gone, and gone for ever. Never will he be anything but a _saved
sinner_, pass he along what paths of glory he may, from "paradise" to
"the kingdom," from the kingdom to "the new heavens and the new earth."
Eating of that tree is only by gift of Jesus, the woman's Seed of the
first promise. Rev. ii. 7.
Such are among the mysteries taught us in this wonderful chapter, full
of mysteries as it is, and of the profoundest secrets of God. But we
have to come down for instruction to learn man and his ways, as well as
to rise, as we learn God and His counsels.
Cain is declared by the Spirit of God in the apostle to have been "of
that wicked one." The first thing we see in him is his religion. He
renders to God, as offering or sacrifice, the fruit of the cursed
ground, the produce of his own toil. But this was unbelief. It was the
denial of all that had happened since the creation, the _religious_
denial of it. It was the direct contradiction of the way of faith, or of
Abel. Abel took the way of the promise to God, the bloody victory of the
woman's Seed, the death and resurrection of Christ, and offered of his
flock; but Cain refused to see man's ruin and God's redemption, giving
God the fruit of the earth; in effect saying, that He was to be read and
known in the thorns and the thistles, the sweat, and the sorrow, and the
death; and by the solemn services of his altar he was denying all truth.
This was the way of a heart deeply departed from God. He was laying the
scene of ruin at God's door, as Adam, ere he repented, had laid down the
sin itself there.
His next way is in terrible keeping with all this. He hates his brother,
being of that wicked one who is a murderer (John viii. 44), and in
process of time he slays him.
Tremendous fruit of the apostate, departed nature. He was the first of
that generation who delivered Jesus to be crucified--self-righteous and
murderous. For envy the Jews delivered Jesus; and Cain slew Abel because
his own works were evil and his brother's righteous. It is the world.
"Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. We know that we have
passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. He that
loveth not his brother abideth in death. Whosoever hateth his brother is
a murderer, and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in
him." The Lord pleaded with him. See iv. 6, 7. His heart had conceived
the sin, but his hand had not brought forth fruit unto death; and with a
voice of long-suffering grace and warning the Lord pleaded with him. The
grace was despised; this grace of pleading with him at the last hour, as
the grace of the promise had been despised before.
"This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men
loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil." The
light which the Lord Jesus was bringing with Him was the light of life
or salvation. Isa. xlix. 6; John viii. 12. And _this_ was the light
which Cain hated and refused.
There is the light of righteousness or holiness. But the refusal of it
is not without remedy. In that light the Lord God had come into the
garden and called, "Adam, where art thou?" Adam could not stand it; for
he had sinned. It was intolerable to him. He had come short of that
glory. He retreats from it. And then the Lord God shines in another
light. The promise is made. The character of the glory is changed. God
seats Himself in a light which the sinner can approach, and, believing,
Adam comes forth.
_This_ was the light which Cain despised, the light of salvation, the
light of the promise, the light in which God shines before men outside
the garden. And Cain is therefore cursed as Adam had not been. As it is
said of another generation, "Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and
perish."
All this is the solemn history of the first unbeliever. But the treasury
of corrupt nature that was in him spends itself in further ways of
wickedness. In him was rising that spring which was to give out "its
superfluity of naughtiness." He lies after all this, and justifies
himself. "I know not," says he; "am I my brother's keeper?" For "the
lusts of his father he would do;" and when the devil "speaketh a lie, he
speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it."
All this, however, and even more than this, was _man_, and not Cain
merely. It was the ruined heart of man exposing itself. And because it
was this, because it was the common nature that was thus disclosing
itself, the Lord takes the judgment of it away from man. "Whosoever
slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold;" for none are
without sin. "Thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that
judgest; for wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself." All
are in the like condemnation. No one can take up the stone and cast it
at another. And in order to express this great principle of truth, and
that God alone has either title or competency to deal with sin, the Lord
will not allow any man to touch the fratricide. By this divine writing
on the case, all are to go out convicted, one by one, and leave the
sinner with God. John viii.
For the ends of government, when government in the earth becomes the
divine purpose, it shall be said, Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man
shall his blood be shed. ix. 6. But this is not so as yet. And for the
teaching of the common pravity, that all of us may be humbled by the
common conviction, that "we have all sinned, and come short of the glory
of God," not one of the whole human family is allowed to touch this
wicked Cain. And so to this day, when government has been divinely set
up, it is not sin that it deals with. _Crimes_, or offences against
public order, and _wrongs_ done to individuals, may be judged by man;
but to take vengeance on _sin_ would be the assuming of personal
guiltlessness. "He that is _without sin_ among you, let _him_ first cast
a stone at her." God has to deal with sin _alone_.[2]
[2] Some have spoken of the Jews, as guilty of the blood of Christ, so
as to have betrayed the principle of self-righteousness condemned
here. And yet I doubt not that there is a sense in which the Jews
are--in a special sense--connected with that sin in the divine
judgment. The land of the Jews is the distinguished field of
blood; the blood of Jesus, in a great sense, is specially on them
and their children. And so, like Cain, that people are under the
special securities of God. And further; that blood is to be
cleansed from off their land, though it now so stains it. Joel
iii. 21.
And still further; the language of Lamech, I also judge, is
mystical or typical, intimating the repentance of the Jews who
shed the blood, after generations of unbelief and hardness of
heart. See note, p. 20.
But, further, as to this awful history. Man will not always be making
this terrible exhibition of himself. He will not at all times appear as
the liar and the murderer. Legion will not be found on every journey we
take. There are restraints. The law, in one sense, was given to that
end. So there are the checks and improvements of education. And there is
the control of God's hand, and the fear of His providence and judgment.
And there is "the law of opinion," as it has been called, the verdict of
society. These and the like influences produce an order in the social
scene, which has therefore become not only tolerable, but full of vast
accommodations and large entertainments. A new _scene_ is thus produced,
though not a new _creature_. Man is man still, the same creature in
God's esteem, or in all divine reckoning, though he appears in the
character of a respectable citizen of the world, and not as the murderer
of his brother. Cain builds a city. He has a thriving, prosperous
family. Through their skill and industry the face of the world
flourishes and looks well. All is respectable; and pleasant and friendly
the people are one with another. The murder is forgotten. Man does not
hear the cry of blood, but the sound of the harp and the organ. His
inventions have stifled his convictions. Cain is an honourable man. But
as to the presence of God, he is as thoroughly separated from it as when
his hand was freshly stained with the blood of his brother.
This is solemn. Man, as a respectable citizen of the world, may be as
separated from God as a murderer. "The remnant of them," as the parable
speaks, "took his servants ... and slew them." The remnant! a word which
lets us know that the refusers of the supper were of _one_ class with
those who shed the blood of the innocent.
The ease and indifference with which Cain could turn his back upon the
Lord, and upon the recollection of his brother's blood, are dreadful. He
got a promise of security, and that was all he cared for. And quickly,
under his hand, accommodations and delights of all sorts fill the scene.
In some sense this is principally shocking. This exceeds. But is not
this the "course of the world"? Was it not man that slew Jesus? Does not
the guilt of that deed lie at every man's door? And what is the course
of the world but the ease and indifference of Cain in this highest state
of guilt? The earth has borne the cross of Christ; and yet man can busy
himself with garnishing and furnishing it, and making life in it
convenient and pleasurable without God. This is shocking when we look at
it in full divine light. A respectable citizen of the world Cain was,
but all the while a heartless forgetter of the sorrows of Abel! His ease
and respectability are the blackest features of his history. He went
away as soon as he got a promise of security; and that promise he uses,
not to soften his heart, and overwhelm him with convictions of all that
had happened, but as giving him full occasion to indulge and magnify
himself.
We read in the New Testament of "the way of Cain." It may be, nay, it
is, run by others. Jude 11. And what a way does this chapter show it to
be! He was an infidel, or a man of his own religion; not obedient in
faith to God's revelation. He practised the works of the liar and the
murderer; he hated the light; he was proof against God's word in mercy
and in warning; he cares nothing for the presence of God which his sin
had forfeited, or for the sorrow of his brother which his hand had
inflicted. And, as such an one, he can take pains to make himself happy
and honourable in the very place which thus witnessed against him.
Is this the "way of Cain"? Is this man still? Yes; and nature outlives a
thousand restraints and improvements. For at the end of Christendom's
career it will even then be said of a generation, "They have gone in the
way of Cain."
This is deeply solemn, beloved, had we but hearts to feel it. There is,
however, a rescued, separated people. Seth's family are after another
order altogether. They are not seen in cities, furnished with
accommodations and pleasures, apart, like Cain, "from the presence of
the Lord;" but as the household of God, separated from that world that
lay in the wicked one, to the faith and worship of His name.
It is the sight of this elect family that has principally at this time
drawn me to this portion of the precious oracles of God. There is much,
I believe, in their standing and testimony which has instruction for our
souls. Like all else in these chapters, it is but short notices we get;
but great things are to be found in them.
This family of Seth may generally be thus spoken of: _They are
strikingly opposed to the way of Cain, and remarkably apprehensive of
the way of God_.
I speak not here again of their _faith_, but of their _standing and
testimony_. Their faith, or the character of their religion, may be read
in that of Adam, who re-appears here at the head of these antediluvian
saints; and his faith (kindred with that of Eve and Abel, or of all who
receive the gospel of the grace of God) I have already considered. But I
speak now of their standing as a household of God, and of their
testimony in the world.
The Lord had set a mark on Cain, that no one finding him should slay
him. He would not have the blood of Abel avenged. This we have already
seen.
The family of Seth are strictly observant of this. No attempt, or
anything like it, is made by them to answer the cry of innocent blood.
They know that it is heard in the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth; but,
under this word of God, they are deaf to it themselves. Vengeance does
not belong to them. The harvest has not come. They are not reapers. In
obedience they heard, not the cry of blood, but the voice of the Lord
countermanding vengeance. And they suffer it. They take the wrong done
to their brother, and are acceptable with God.
Express charge demanded this, and this was consequently simple
obedience. But the mind of a saint is full of light. It is the mind of
Christ (1 Cor. ii.); in us, it is true, darkened in a thousand actings
of it, by the coarseness and blindness of nature with which it is now
linked; but still, in itself it is full of light. Even angelic nature is
all life. Torpidity and dulness do not belong to it. "Winds" and "flames
of fire" express that nature, and such things act constantly and
fervently; and in like virtue the mind of Christ, the divine nature in
the saint, is full of affection and intelligence.
We get some of its fine ways of acting in this household of God.
The innocent blood is to remain unavenged. Its cry from the earth is not
to be answered, at least for the present. _That_ is enough to teach the
saint his pilgrim, heavenly calling. The family of Seth are therefore as
pilgrims and strangers here, and all their habits are those of heavenly
citizens. If the earth be not to be cleansed, the elect are to be
strangers in it with a heavenly calling.