“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Speak unto Aaron, and say unto
him, When thou lightest the lamps, the seven lamps shall give light over
against the candlestick.’ And Aaron did so; he lighted the lamps thereof
over against the candlestick, as the Lord commanded Moses. And this work
of the candlestick was of beaten gold, unto the shaft thereof, unto the
flowers thereof, was beaten work: according unto the pattern which the
Lord had showed Moses, so he made the candlestick.” (Ver. 1-4.)
On reading the foregoing paragraph, two things claim the reader’s
attention, namely, first, the position which the type of the golden
candlestick occupies; and secondly, the instruction which the type
conveys.
It is not a little remarkable that the candlestick is the only part of
the furniture of the tabernacle introduced in this place. We have nothing
about the golden altar, nothing about the golden table. The candlestick
alone is before us, and that not in its covering of blue and of badgers’
skins, as in chapter iv, where it, like all the rest, is seen in its
traveling-dress. It is here seen lighted, not covered. It comes in
between the offerings of the princes and the consecration of the Levites,
and sheds forth its mystic light according to the commandment of the
Lord. Light cannot be dispensed with in the wilderness, and therefore the
golden candlestick must be stripped of its covering, and allowed to shine
in testimony for God, which, be it ever remembered, is the grand object
of every thing, whether it be the offering of our _substance_, as in the
case of the princes; or the dedication of our _persons_, as in the case
of the Levites. It is only in the light of the sanctuary that the true
worth of any thing or any one can be seen.
Hence, the moral order of the whole of this part of our book is striking
and beautiful; indeed, it is divinely perfect. Having read, in chapter
vii, the lengthened statement of the princes’ liberality, _we_, in
our wisdom, might suppose that the next thing in order would be the
consecration of the Levites, thus presenting, in unbroken connection,
“our persons and offerings.” But no; the Spirit of God causes the light
of the sanctuary to intervene, in order that we may learn in it the true
object of all liberality and service in the wilderness.
Is there not lovely moral appropriateness in this? Can any spiritual
reader fail to see it? Why have we not the golden altar, with its cloud
of incense, here? why not the pure table, with its twelve loaves? Because
neither of these would have the least moral connection with what goes
before or what follows after; but the golden candlestick stands connected
with both, inasmuch as it shows us that all liberality and all work
must be viewed in the light of the sanctuary, in order to ascertain its
real worth. This is a grand wilderness-lesson, and it is taught us here
as blessedly as type can teach us. In our progress through the book of
Numbers, we have just read the account of the large-hearted liberality of
the great heads of the congregation, on the occasion of the dedication of
the altar; and we are about to read the record of the consecration of the
Levites; but between the one and the other the inspired penman pauses, in
order to let the light of the sanctuary shine on both.
This is divine order. It is, we are bold to say, one of the ten thousand
illustrations which lie scattered over the surface of Scripture, tending
to demonstrate the divine perfectness of the volume as a whole, and of
each book, section, and paragraph therein. And we are glad—intensely
glad to point out these precious illustrations to our reader, as we pass
along in his company. We consider we are doing him good service herein;
and, at the same time, presenting our humble tribute of praise to that
book which our Father has graciously penned for us. Well indeed we know
it does not need our poor testimony, nor that of any mortal pen or
mortal tongue; but still it is our joy to render the testimony, in the
face of the enemy’s manifold but futile attacks upon its inspiration.
The true source and character of all such attacks will become more and
more manifest as we become more deeply, livingly, and experimentally
acquainted with the infinite depths and divine perfections of the Volume.
And hence it is that the internal evidences of holy Scripture—its
powerful effect upon _ourselves_, no less than its intrinsic moral
glories—its ability to judge the very roots of character and conduct,
no less than its admirable structure, in all its parts—are the most
powerful arguments in defense of its divinity. A book that exposes me
to myself—that tells me all that is in my heart—that lays bare the very
deepest moral springs of my nature—that judges me thoroughly, and at the
same time reveals to me One who meets my every need—such a book carries
its own credentials with it. It craves not and needs not letters of
commendation from man. It stands in no need of his favor, in no dread of
his wrath. It has often occurred to us that were we to reason about the
Bible as the woman of Sychar reasoned about our Lord, we should reach
as sound a conclusion about _it_ as she reached about _Him_. “Come,”
said this simple and happy reasoner, “see a Man which told me all things
that ever I did: is not this the Christ?” May we not, with equal force
of reasoning, say, Come, see a book which told me all things that ever
I did: is not this the Word of God? Yes, truly; and not only so, but we
may argue, _a fortiori_, inasmuch as the book of God not only tell us all
that ever we did, but all we think, and all we say, and all we are. (See
Rom. iii. 10-18; Matt. xv. 19.)
But is it that we despise external evidences? Far from it. We delight in
them. We value every argument and every evidence calculated to strengthen
the foundations of the heart’s confidence in the divine inspiration of
holy Scripture; and most assuredly we have abundance of such material.
The very history of the book itself, with all its striking facts,
furnishes a broad tributary stream to swell the tide of evidence. The
history of its composition, the history of its preservation, the history
of its translation from tongue to tongue, the history of its circulation
throughout earth’s wide domain—in a word, its entire history, “surpassing
fable, and yet true,” forms a powerful argument in defense of its divine
origin. Take, for example, that one fact of most commanding interest,
namely, its having been kept for over a thousand years, in the custody
of those who would have gladly consigned it, if they could, to eternal
oblivion. Is not this a telling fact? Yes; and there are many such facts
in the marvelous history of this peerless, priceless Volume.
But after allowing as wide a margin as may be desired, in the which
to insert the value of external evidences, we return, with unshaken
decision, to our statement, that the internal evidences—the proofs to be
gleaned from the book itself—form as powerful a defense as can be erected
with which to stem the tide of skeptical and infidel opposition.
We shall not, however, pursue any further this line of thought into which
we have been led, while contemplating the remarkable position assigned
to the golden candlestick in the book of Numbers. We felt constrained to
say thus much in testimony to our most precious Bible, and having said
it, we shall return to our chapter, and seek to gather up the instruction
contained in its opening paragraph.
“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Speak unto Aaron, and say unto
him, When thou lightest the lamps, the seven lamps shall give light over
against the candlestick.’” Those “seven lamps” express the light of the
Spirit in testimony. They were connected with the beaten shaft of the
candlestick, which typifies Christ, who, in His Person and work, is the
foundation of the Spirit’s work in the Church. All depends upon Christ.
Every ray of light in the Church, in the individual believer, or in
Israel by and by, all flows from Christ.
Nor is this all we learn from our type. “The seven lamps shall give
light over against the candlestick.” Were we to clothe this figure in
New-Testament language, we should quote our Lord’s words when He says
to us, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good
works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” (Matt. v. 16.)
Wherever the true light of the Spirit shines, it will always yield a
clear testimony to Christ. It will call attention not to itself, but to
Him; and this is the way to glorify God. “The seven lamps shall give
light over against the candlestick.”
This is a great practical truth for all Christians. The very finest
evidence which can be afforded of true spiritual work is, that it tends
directly to exalt Christ. If attention be sought for the work or the
workman, the light has become dim, and the Minister of the sanctuary
must use the snuffers. It was Aaron’s province to light the lamps, and
he it was who trimmed them likewise. In other words, the light which, as
Christians, we are responsible to yield, is not only founded upon Christ,
but maintained by Him, from moment to moment, throughout the entire
night. Apart from Him we can do nothing. The golden shaft sustained the
lamps; the priestly hand supplied the oil and applied the snuffers. It is
all _in_ Christ, _from_ Christ, and _by_ Christ.
And more, it is all _to_ Christ. Wherever the light of the Spirit—the
true light of the sanctuary—has shone in this wilderness world, the
object of that light has been to exalt the name of Jesus. Whatever has
been done by the Holy Ghost, whatever has been said, whatever has been
written, has had for its aim the glory of that blessed One; and we may
say with confidence, that whatever has not that tendency—that aim, is
not of the Holy Ghost, be it what it may. There may be an immense amount
of work done, a great deal of apparent result reached, a quantity of
that which is calculated to attract human attention, and elicit human
applause, and yet not one ray of light from the golden candlestick. And
why? Because attention is _sought_ for the work, or for those engaged
in it. _Man_ and his doings and sayings are exalted, instead of Christ.
The light has not been produced by the oil which the hand of the great
High-Priest supplies; and, as a consequence, it is false light,—it is a
light which shines not over against the candlestick, but over against the
name or the actings of some poor mortal.
All this is most solemn, and demands our deepest attention. There is
always the utmost danger when a man or his work becomes remarkable. He
may be sure Satan is gaining his object, when attention is drawn to aught
or to any one but the Lord Jesus Himself. A work may be commenced in the
greatest possible simplicity, but, through lack of holy watchfulness and
spirituality on the part of the workman, he himself, or the results of
his work, may attract general attention, and he may fall into the snare
of the devil. Satan’s grand and ceaseless object is to dishonor the Lord
Jesus; and if he can do this by what seems to be Christian service, he
has achieved all the greater victory for the time. He has no objection to
work, as such, provided he can detach that work from the name of Jesus.
He will ever mingle himself, if he can, with the work; he will present
himself amongst the servants of Christ, as he once presented himself
amongst the sons of God; but his object is ever one and the same, namely,
to dishonor the Lord. He permitted the damsel in Acts xvi. to bear
testimony to Christ’s servants, and say, “These men are the servants of
the Most High God, which show unto us the way of salvation;” but this was
simply with a view to insnare those servants and mar their work. He was
defeated, however, because the light that emanated from Paul and Silas
was the genuine light of the sanctuary, and it _shone_ only for Christ.
They sought not a name for themselves; and inasmuch as it was to them
and not to their Master that the damsel bore witness, they refused the
witness, and chose rather to suffer for their Master’s sake than to be
exalted at His expense.
This is a fine example for all the Lord’s workmen; and if we turn, for an
instant, to Acts iii, we shall find another very striking illustration.
There, the light of the sanctuary shone out in the healing of the lame
man, and when attention was drawn, _unsought_, to the workmen, we find
Peter and John, at once, with holy jealousy, retiring behind their
glorious Master and giving all the praise to Him. “And as the lame man
which was healed held Peter and John, all the people ran together unto
them in the porch that is called Solomon’s, greatly wondering. And when
Peter saw it, he answered unto the people, ‘Ye men of Israel, why marvel
ye at this? or why look ye so earnestly _on us_, as though by _our own_
power or holiness _we_ had made this man to walk? The God of Abraham, and
of Isaac, and of Jacob, the God of our fathers, hath glorified HIS SON
JESUS.’”
Here we have, in very deed, “the seven lamps giving their light over
against the candlestick;” or, in other words, the sevenfold or perfect
display of the Spirit’s light in distinct testimony to the name of Jesus.
“Why,” said these faithful vessels of the Spirit’s light, “look ye so
earnestly on _us_?” No need of the snuffers here!—the light was undimmed.
It was, no doubt, an occasion which the apostles might have turned to
their own account had they been so disposed. It was a moment in the which
they might have surrounded their own names with a halo of glory. They
might have raised themselves to a pinnacle of fame, and drawn around them
the respect and veneration of wondering, if not worshiping, thousands;
but had they done so, they would have robbed their Master, falsified the
testimony, grieved the Holy Ghost, and brought down upon themselves the
just judgment of Him who will not give His glory to another.
But no; the seven lamps were shining brightly in Jerusalem at this
interesting moment. The true candlestick was in Solomon’s porch just
then, and not in the temple; at least, the seven lamps were there,
and doing their appointed work most blessedly. Those honored servants
sought no glory for themselves; yea, they instantly put forth all their
energies in order to avert the wondering gaze of the multitude from
themselves, and fix it upon the only worthy One, who, though He had
passed into the heavens, was still working by His Spirit on earth.
Many other illustrations might be drawn from the pages of the Acts of
the Apostles, but the above will suffice to impress upon our hearts the
great practical lesson taught in the golden candlestick, with its seven
lamps. We are deeply sensible of our need of the lesson at this very
moment. There is always a danger of the work and the workman being more
the object than the Master. Let us be on our guard against this. It is
a sad evil. It grieves the blessed Spirit, who ever labors to exalt the
name of Jesus. It is offensive to the Father, who would ever be sounding
in our ears and deep down in our hearts those words heard from an open
heaven, on the mount of transfiguration, “This is My beloved Son, in whom
I am well pleased, hear ye Him.” It is in the most direct and positive
hostility to the mind of heaven, where every eye is fixed on Jesus,
every heart occupied with Jesus, and where the one eternal, universal,
unanimous cry shall be, “_Thou art worthy_.”
Let us think of all this—think deeply—think habitually, that so we may
shrink from every thing bordering upon or savoring of the exaltation
of man—of self—our doings and sayings and thinkings. May we all more
earnestly seek the quiet, shady, unobtrusive path where the spirit of the
meek and lowly Jesus will ever lead us to walk and serve. In a word,
may we so abide in Christ, so receive from Him, day by day and moment by
moment, the pure oil, that our light may shine, without our thinking of
it, to His praise, in whom alone we have ALL, and apart from whom we can
do absolutely NOTHING.
The remainder of the eighth chapter of Numbers contains the record of the
ceremonial connected with the consecration of the Levites, to which we
have already referred in our notes on chapters iii. and iv.