“And the Lord spake unto Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, in the first
month of the second year after they were come out of the land of Egypt,
saying, ‘Let the children of Israel also keep the passover at his
appointed season. In the fourteenth day of this month, at even, ye shall
keep it in his appointed season: according to all the rites of it, and
according to all the ceremonies thereof, shall ye keep it.’ And Moses
spake unto the children of Israel, that they should keep the passover.
And they kept the passover on the fourteenth day of the first month,
at even, in the wilderness of Sinai: according to all that the Lord
commanded Moses, so did the children of Israel.” (Ver. 1-5.)
There are three distinct positions in which we find this great
redemption-feast celebrated, namely, in Egypt (Ex. xii.), in the
wilderness (Num. ix.), in the land of Canaan (Josh. v.). Redemption
lies at the foundation of every thing connected with the history of
God’s people. Are they to be delivered from the bondage, the death, and
the darkness of Egypt? it is by redemption. Are they to be borne along
through all the difficulties and dangers of the desert? it is on the
ground of redemption. Are they to walk across the ruins of the frowning
walls of Jericho, and plant their feet upon the necks of the kings of
Canaan? it is in virtue of redemption.
Thus the blood of the paschal lamb met the Israel of God amid the deep
degradation of the land of Egypt, and delivered them out of it. It met
them in the dreary desert, and carried them through it: it met them on
their entrance into the land of Canaan, and established them in it.
In a word, then, the blood of the lamb met the people in Egypt, it
accompanied them through the desert, and planted them in Canaan. It was
the blessed basis of all the divine actings in them, with them, and for
them. Was it a question of the judgment of God against Egypt? the blood
of the lamb screened them from it. Was it a question of the numberless
and nameless wants of the wilderness? the blood of the lamb secured a
full provision for them. Was it a question of the dreaded power of the
seven nations of Canaan? the blood of the lamb was the sure and certain
pledge of complete and glorious victory. The moment we behold Jehovah
coming forth to act on behalf of His people, on the ground of the blood
of the lamb, all is infallibly secured, from first to last. The whole
of that mysterious and marvelous journey, from the brick-kilns of Egypt
to the vine-clad hills and honeyed plains of Palestine, served but to
illustrate and set forth the varied virtues of the blood of the lamb.
However, the chapter which now lies open before us presents the passover
entirely from a wilderness stand-point; and this will account, to the
reader, for the introduction of the following circumstance: “There were
certain men which were defiled by the dead body of a man, that they could
not keep the passover on that day; and they came before Moses and before
Aaron on that day.”
Here was a practical difficulty—something abnormal, as we say—something
not anticipated, and therefore the question was submitted to Moses and
Aaron. “They came before Moses”—the exponent of the claims of God, “and
before Aaron”—the exponent of the provisions of the grace of God. There
seems something distinct and emphatic in the way in which both these
functionaries are referred to. The two elements of which they are the
expression would be deemed essential in the solving of such a difficulty
as that which here presented itself.
“And those men said unto him, ‘We are defiled by the dead body of a man;
wherefore are we kept back, that we may not offer an offering of the Lord
in his appointed season among the children of Israel?’” There was the
plain confession as to the defilement, and the question raised was this:
Were they to be derived of the holy privilege of coming before the Lord
in His appointed way? Was there no resource—no provision for such a case?
A deeply interesting question, surely, but one for which no answer had
as yet been provided. We have no such case anticipated in the original
institution, in Exodus xii, although we have there a very full statement
of all the rites and all the ceremonies of the feast. It was reserved for
the wilderness to evolve this new point. It was in the actual walk of the
people—in the real practical details of desert life, that the difficulty
presented itself for which a solution had to be provided. Hence it is
that the record of this entire affair is appropriately given in Numbers,
the book of the wilderness.
“And Moses said unto them, ‘Stand still, and I will hear what the Lord
will command concerning you.’” Lovely attitude! Moses had no answer to
give; but he knew who had, and he waited on Him. This was the very best
and wisest thing for Moses to do. He did not pretend to be able to give
an answer. He was not ashamed to say, “_I do not know._” With all his
wisdom and knowledge, he did not hesitate to show his ignorance. This
is true knowledge—true wisdom. It might be humiliating to one in Moses’
position to appear before the congregation or any members of it, in the
light of one ignorant on any question. He who had led the people out
of Egypt, he who had conducted them through the Red Sea, he who had
conversed with Jehovah and received his commission from the great “I am,”
could it be possible that he was unable to meet a difficulty arising out
of such a simple case as that which was now before him? was it indeed
true that such an one as Moses was ignorant as to the right course in
reference to men defiled by a dead body?
How few there are who, though not occupying such a lofty position as
Moses, would not have attempted a reply of some sort to such a query.
But Moses was the meekest man in all the earth. He knew better than
to presume to speak when he had nothing to say. Would that we more
faithfully followed his example in this matter! It would save us many
a sad exhibition, from many a blunder, from many a false attempt.
Moreover, it would tend to make us very much more real, more simple,
more unaffected. We are ofttimes so silly as to be ashamed to expose
our ignorance. We foolishly imagine that our reputation for wisdom and
intelligence is touched when we give utterance to that fine sentence,
so expressive of true moral greatness, “I don’t know.” It is a total
mistake. We always attach much more weight and importance to the words
of a man who never pretends to knowledge which he does not possess; but
a man who is always ready to speak, in flippant self-confidence, we are
never ready to hear. Oh, to walk, at all times, in the spirit of these
lovely words, “Stand still, and I will hear what the Lord will command”!
“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Speak unto the children of
Israel, saying, If any man of you or of your posterity shall be unclean
by reason of a dead body, or be in a journey afar off, yet he shall keep
the passover unto the Lord. The fourteenth day of _the second month_, at
even, they shall keep it, and eat it with unleavened bread and bitter
herbs.’”
There are two grand foundation-truths set forth in the passover,
namely, redemption, and the unity of God’s people. These truths are
unchangeable: nothing can ever do away with them. Failure there may
be, and unfaithfulness, in various forms; but those glorious truths of
the eternal redemption and perfect unity of God’s people remain in all
their force and value. Hence that impressive ordinance which so vividly
shadowed forth those truths was of perpetual obligation. Circumstances
were not to interfere with it; death or distance was not to interrupt it.
“If any man of you or of your posterity shall be unclean by reason of a
dead body, or be in a journey afar off, yet shall he keep the passover
unto the Lord.” So imperative, indeed, was it upon every member of the
congregation to celebrate this feast, that a special provision is made in
Numbers ix. for those who were not up to the mark of keeping it according
to the due order. Such persons were to observe it “on the fourteenth day
of the _second_ month.” This was the provision of grace for all cases of
unavoidable defilement or distance.
If the reader will turn to 2 Chronicles xxx, he will see that Hezekiah,
and the congregation in his day, availed themselves of this gracious
provision. “And there assembled at Jerusalem much people to keep
the feast of unleavened bread in the _second_ month, a very great
congregation.... Then they killed the passover on the fourteenth day of
the second month.” (Ver. 13, 15.)
The grace of God can meet us in our greatest possible weakness, if only
that weakness be felt and confessed.[9] But let not this most precious
and comfortable truth lead us to trifle with sin or defilement. Though
grace permitted the second month, instead of the first, it did not, on
that account, allow any laxity as to the rites and ceremonies of the
feast. “The unleavened bread and bitter herbs” were always to have their
place; none of the sacrifice was to remain till the morning, nor was a
single bone of it to be broken. God cannot allow any lowering of the
standard of truth or holiness. Man, through weakness, failure, or the
power of circumstances, might be behind the time; but he must not be
below the mark. Grace permitted the former; holiness forbids the latter:
and if any one had presumed upon the grace to dispense with the holiness,
he would have been cut off from the congregation.
Has this no voice for us? Assuredly it has. We must ever remember, as
we pass along through the pages of this marvelous book of Numbers, that
the things which happened unto Israel are our types, and that it is at
once our duty and our privilege to hang over these types and seek to
understand the holy lessons which they are designed of God to teach.
What, then, are we to learn from the regulations with respect to the
passover in the second month? Why was Israel so specially enjoined not
to omit a single rite or ceremony on that particular occasion? why is it
that in this ninth chapter of Numbers the directions for the second month
are much more minute than those for the first? It is not, surely, that
the ordinance was more important in the one case than in the other, for
its importance, in God’s judgment, was ever the same; neither is it that
there was a shade of difference in the order in either case, for that,
too, was ever the same. Still the fact must strike the reader who ponders
the chapter before us that where reference is made to the celebration of
the passover in the first month, we simply read the words, “according to
all the rites of it, and according to all the ceremonies thereof, shall
ye keep it;” but on the other hand, when reference is made to the second
month, we have a most minute statement of what those rites and ceremonies
were,—“They shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. They
shall leave none of it unto the morning, nor break any bone of it:
according to all the ordinances of the passover they shall keep it.”
(Compare verse 3 with 11, 12.)
What, we ask, does this plain fact teach us? We believe it teaches us,
most distinctly, that we are never to lower the standard, in the things
of God, because of failure and weakness on the part of God’s people; but
rather, on that very account, to take special pains to hold the standard
up, in all its divine integrity. No doubt, there should be the deep
sense of failure—the deeper the better; but God’s truth is not to be
surrendered. We can always reckon, with confidence, upon the resources of
divine grace, while seeking to maintain, with unwavering decision, the
standard of divine truth.
Let us seek to keep this ever in the remembrance of the thoughts of our
hearts. We are in danger, on the one hand, of forgetting the fact that
failure has come in—yea, gross failure, unfaithfulness, and sin; and on
the other hand, we are in danger of forgetting, in view of that failure,
the unfailing faithfulness of God in spite of everything. The professing
church has failed, and become a perfect ruin; and not only so, but we
ourselves have individually failed and helped on the ruin. We should feel
all this—feel it deeply—feel it constantly. We should ever bear upon our
spirits before our God the deep and heart-subduing consciousness of how
sadly and how shamefully we have behaved ourselves in the house of God.
It would be adding immensely to our failure were we ever to forget that
we have failed. The most profound humility and the deepest brokenness
of spirit become us in the remembrance of all this; and these inward
feelings and exercises will surely express themselves in a lowly walk and
carriage in the midst of the scene in which we move.
“Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, ‘The
Lord knoweth them that are His.’ And, ‘Let every one that nameth the name
of Christ depart from iniquity.’” (2 Tim. ii. 19.) Here is the resource
of the faithful, in view of the ruins of christendom. God never fails,
never changes, and we have simply to depart from iniquity and cling to
Him. We are to do what is right, and follow it diligently, and leave
results to Him.
We would earnestly beg of the reader to give the foregoing line of
thought his entire attention. We want him to pause, for a few moments,
and prayerfully consider the whole subject. We are convinced that a due
consideration of it, in its two sides, would greatly help us to pick
our steps amid the surrounding ruins. The remembrance of the Church’s
condition, and of our own personal unfaithfulness, would keep us humble;
while, at the same time, the apprehension of God’s unchanging standard,
and of His unswerving faithfulness, would detach us from the evil around,
and keep us steady in the path of separation. Both together would
effectually preserve us from empty pretension on the one hand, and from
laxity and indifference on the other. We have ever to keep before our
souls the humbling fact that we have failed, and yet to hold fast that
grand truth that God is faithful.
These are, pre-eminently, lessons for the wilderness—lessons for this
very day—lessons for _us_. They are suggested, very forcibly, by the
inspired record of the passover in the second month—a record peculiar to
the book of Numbers—the great wilderness-book. It is in the wilderness
that human failure comes so fully out, and in the wilderness the infinite
resources of divine grace are displayed. But once more, let us reiterate
the statement—and may it be engraved, in characters deep and broad, on
our hearts—the richest provisions of divine grace and mercy afford no
warrant whatever for lowering the standard of divine truth. If any had
pleaded defilement or distance as an excuse for not keeping the passover,
or for keeping it otherwise than as God had enjoined, he would, most
assuredly, have been cut off from the congregation. And so with us; if
we consent to surrender any truth of God because failure has come in—if
we, in sheer unbelief of heart, give up God’s standard and abandon God’s
ground—if we draw a plea from the condition of things around us to shake
off the authority of God’s truth over the conscience, or its formative
influence upon our conduct and character, it is very evident that our
communion is suspended.[10]
We would gladly pursue this great practical line of truth somewhat
further, but we must forbear, and close this part of our subject by
quoting for our reader the remainder of this wilderness record concerning
the passover.
“But the man that is clean, and is not in a journey, and forbeareth to
keep the passover, even the same soul shall be cut off from among his
people; because he brought not the offering of the Lord in his appointed
season, that man shall bear his sin. And if a stranger shall sojourn
among you, and will keep the passover unto the Lord; according to the
ordinance of the passover, and according to the manner thereof, so shall
he do: ye shall have one ordinance, both for the stranger and for him
that was born in the land.” (Ver. 13, 14.)
The willful neglect of the passover would argue, on the part of an
Israelite, a total want of appreciation of the benefits and blessings
flowing out of his redemption and deliverance from the land of Egypt. The
more deeply any one entered into the divine reality of that which had
been accomplished on that memorable night, in the which the congregation
of Israel found refuge and repose beneath the shelter of the blood, the
more earnestly would he long for the return of “the fourteenth day of the
first month,” that he might have an opportunity of commemorating that
glorious occasion; and if there was aught preventing his enjoying the
ordinance in “the first month,” the more gladly and thankfully would he
avail himself of “the second.” But the man who could be satisfied to go
on, from year to year, without keeping the passover, only proved that his
heart was far away from the God of Israel. It were worse than vain for
any one to speak of loving the God of his fathers, and of enjoying the
blessings of redemption, while the very ordinance which God had appointed
to set forth that redemption lay neglected from year to year.
And may we not, to a certain extent, apply all this to ourselves, in
reference to the matter of the Lord’s supper? Doubtless we may, and that
with very much profit. There is this connection between the passover and
the Lord’s supper, that the former was the type, the latter the memorial,
of the death of Christ. Thus we read in 1 Corinthians v, “Christ our
passover is sacrificed for us.” This sentence establishes the connection.
The passover was the memorial of Israel’s redemption from the bondage of
Egypt, and the Lord’s supper is the memorial of the Church’s redemption
from the heavier and darker bondage of sin and Satan. Hence, as every
true and faithful Israelite would surely be found keeping the passover,
in the appointed season, according to all the rites and ceremonies
thereof, so will every true and faithful Christian be found celebrating
the Lord’s supper, in its appointed season, and according to all the
principles laid down in the New Testament respecting it. If an Israelite
had neglected the passover, even on one single occasion, he would have
been cut off from the congregation. Such neglect was not to be tolerated
in the assembly of old. It was instantly visited with the divine
displeasure.
And may we not ask, in the face of this solemn fact, Is it nothing now—is
it a matter of no moment for Christians to neglect, from week to week and
month to month, the supper of their Lord? Are we to suppose that the One
who, in Numbers ix, declared that the neglecter of the passover should be
cut off, takes no account of the neglecter of the Lord’s table? We cannot
believe it for a moment. For albeit it is not a question of being cut off
from the Church of God—the body of Christ, are we, on that account to be
negligent? Far be the thought. Yea, rather should it have the blessed
effect of stirring us up to greater diligence in the celebration of that
most precious feast wherein we “do show the Lord’s death till He come.”
To a pious Israelite, there was nothing like the passover, because it
was the memorial of his redemption; and to a pious Christian, there
is nothing like the Lord’s supper, because it is the memorial of his
redemption and of the death of his Lord. Of all the exercises in which
the Christian can engage, there is nothing more precious, nothing more
expressive, nothing that brings Christ more touchingly or solemnly before
his heart, than the Lord’s supper. He may sing about the Lord’s death, he
may pray about it, he may read about it, he may hear about it; but it is
only in the supper that he “_shows_” it forth. “And He took bread, and
gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, ‘This is My body,
which is given for you: this do in remembrance of Me.’ Likewise also the
cup after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new testament in My blood,
which is shed for you.’” (Luke xxii. 19, 20.)
Here we have the feast _instituted_; and when we turn to the Acts of the
Apostles, we read that, “upon the first day of the week, the disciples
came together to break bread.” (Acts xx. 7.)
Here we have the feast _celebrated_; and lastly, when we turn to the
epistles, we read, “The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the
communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the
communion of the body of Christ? For we being many are one loaf, and one
body; for we are all partakers of that one loaf.” (1 Cor. x. 16, 17.) And
again, “For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto
you, That the Lord Jesus the same night in which He was betrayed took
bread; and when He had given thanks, He brake it, and said, ‘Take, eat:
this is My body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of Me.’
After the same manner also He took the cup, when He had supped, saying,
‘This cup is the new testament in My blood: this do ye, as oft as ye
drink it, in remembrance of Me.’ For as often as ye eat this bread, and
drink this cup, ye do show the Lord’s death till He come.” (1 Cor. xi.
23-26.)
Here we have the feast _expounded_. And may we not say that in the
institution, the celebration, and the exposition, we have a threefold
cord, not easily broken, to bind our souls to this most precious feast?
How is it, then, that, in the face of all this holy authority, any of
God’s people should be found neglecting the Lord’s table? or, looking
at it in another aspect, how is it that any of Christ’s members can
be satisfied to go on for weeks, and months, and some all their days,
without ever remembering their Lord in the way of His own direct and
positive appointment? We are aware that some professing Christians regard
this subject in the light of a return to Jewish ordinances, and as a
coming down from the high ground of the Church. They look upon the Lord’s
supper and baptism as inward spiritual mysteries, and they consider that
we are departing from true spirituality in insisting upon the literal
observance of these ordinances.
To all this we very simply reply that God is wiser than we are. If the
Lord Christ instituted the supper; if God the Holy Ghost led the early
Church to celebrate it; and if He has also expounded it unto us, who are
we that we should set up our ideas in opposition to God? No doubt, the
Lord’s supper should be an inward spiritual mystery to all who partake of
it; but it is also an outward, literal, tangible thing. There is literal
bread, and literal wine—literal eating, and literal drinking. If any deny
this, they may, with equal force, deny that there are literal people
gathered together. We have no right to explain away Scripture after such
a fashion. It is our happy and holy duty to submit to Scripture—to bow
down, absolutely and implicitly, to its divine authority.
Nor is it merely a question of subjection to the authority of Scripture.
It is that, most assuredly, as we have abundantly proved by quotation
after quotation from the divine Word; and that alone is amply sufficient
for every pious mind. But there is more than this. There is such a thing
as the response of love in the heart of the Christian, answering to the
love of the heart of Christ. Is not this something? Ought we not to seek,
in some small degree, to meet the love of such a heart? If our blessed
and adorable Lord has, in very deed, appointed the bread and the wine,
in the supper, as memorials of His broken body and shed blood; if He
has ordained that we should eat of that bread and drink of that cup, in
remembrance of Him, ought we not, in the power of responsive affection,
to meet the desire of His loving heart? Surely no earnest Christian will
question this. It ought ever to be the very joy of our hearts to gather
around the table of our loving Lord, and remember Him in the way of His
appointment—to show forth His death till He come. It is only marvelous to
think that He should seek a place in the remembrance of such hearts as
ours; but so it is; and it would be sad indeed if we, on any ground, and
for any reason whatsoever, should neglect that very feast with which He
has linked His precious name.
This, of course, would not be the place to enter upon any thing like
an elaborate exposition of the ordinance of the Lord’s supper. We have
sought to do this elsewhere.[11] What we specially desire here is, to
urge upon the Christian reader the immense importance and deep interest
of the ordinance as viewed on the double ground of subjection to the
authority of Scripture, and responsive love to Christ Himself. And
furthermore, we are anxious to impress all who may read these lines
with a sense of the seriousness of neglecting to eat the Lord’s supper,
according to the Scriptures. We may depend upon it it is dangerous ground
for any to attempt to set aside this positive institution of our Lord
and Master. It argues a wrong condition of soul altogether. It proves
that the conscience is not subject to the authority of the Word, and that
the heart is not in true sympathy with the affections of Christ. Let us
therefore see to it that we are honestly endeavoring to discharge our
holy responsibilities to the table of the Lord—that we forbear not to
keep the feast—that we celebrate it according to the order laid down by
God the Holy Ghost.
Thus much as to the passover in the wilderness, and the impressive
lessons which it conveys to our souls.
* * * * *
We shall now dwell for a few moments on the closing paragraph of our
chapter, which is as truly characteristic as any portion of the book.
In it we are called to contemplate a numerous host of men, women, and
children, traveling through a trackless wilderness, “where there was no
way”—passing over a dreary waste, a vast sandy desert, without compass or
human guide.
What a thought! what a spectacle! There were those millions of people
moving along without any knowledge of the route by which they were to
travel, as wholly dependent upon God for guidance as for food and all
beside; a thoroughly helpless pilgrim host. They could form no plans
for the morrow. When encamped, they knew not when they were to march,
and when on the march, they knew not when or where they were to halt.
Theirs was a life of daily and hourly dependence. They had to look up
for guidance. Their movements were controlled by the wheels of Jehovah’s
chariot.
This, truly, was a wondrous spectacle. Let us read the record of it, and
drink into our souls its heavenly teaching.
“And on the day that the tabernacle was reared up, the cloud covered the
tabernacle, namely, the tent of the testimony: and at even, there was
upon the tabernacle as it were the appearance of fire, until the morning.
_So it was alway_: the cloud covered it by day, and the appearance of
fire by night. And when the cloud was taken up from the tabernacle, then
after that the children of Israel journeyed: and in the place where the
cloud abode, there the children of Israel pitched their tents. At the
commandment of the Lord the children of Israel journeyed, and at the
commandment of the Lord they pitched: as long as the cloud abode upon
the tabernacle, they rested in their tents. And when the cloud tarried
long upon the tabernacle many days, then the children of Israel kept the
charge of the Lord, and journeyed not. And so it was, when the cloud
was a few days upon the tabernacle; according to the commandment of the
Lord they abode in their tents, and according to the commandment of the
Lord they journeyed. And so it was, when the cloud abode from even unto
the morning, and that the cloud was taken up in the morning, then they
journeyed; whether it was by day or by night that the cloud was taken up,
they journeyed. Or whether it were two days, or a month, or a year, that
the cloud tarried upon the tabernacle, remaining thereon, the children of
Israel abode in their tents, and journeyed not; but when it was taken up,
they journeyed. At the commandment of the Lord they rested in the tents,
and at the commandment of the Lord they journeyed: they kept the charge
of the Lord, at the commandment of the Lord by the hand of Moses.” (Ver.
15-23.)
A more lovely picture of absolute dependence upon and subjection to
divine guidance it were impossible to conceive than that presented in the
foregoing paragraph. There was not a footprint or a landmark throughout
that “great and terrible wilderness.” It was therefore useless to look
for any guidance from those who had gone before. They were wholly cast
upon God for every step of the way; they were in a position of constant
waiting upon Him. This, to an unsubdued mind—an unbroken will, would be
intolerable; but to a soul knowing, loving, confiding, and delighting in
God, nothing could be more deeply blessed.
Here lies the real gist of the whole matter. Is God known, loved, and
trusted? If He be, the heart will delight in the most absolute dependence
upon Him; if not, such dependence would be perfectly insufferable. The
unrenewed man loves to think himself independent—loves to fancy himself
free—loves to believe that he may do what he likes, go where he likes,
say what he likes. Alas! it is the merest delusion. Man is not free: he
is the slave of Satan. It is now well-nigh six thousand years since he
sold himself into the hands of that great spiritual slaveholder, who
has held him ever since, and who holds him still. Yes, Satan holds the
natural man—the unconverted, unrepentant man in terrible bondage. He has
him bound hand and foot with chains and fetters which are not seen in
their true character, because of the gilding wherewith he has so artfully
covered them. Satan rules man by means of his lusts, his passions, and
his pleasures. He forms lusts in the heart, and then gratifies them with
the things that are in the world; and man vainly imagines himself free
because he can gratify his desires. But it is a melancholy delusion, and
sooner or later it will be found to be such. There is no freedom save
that with which Christ makes his people free. He it is who says, “Ye
shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” And again, “If
the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” (John viii.)
Here is true liberty. It is the liberty which the new nature finds in
walking in the Spirit, and doing those things that are pleasing in the
sight of God. “The service of the Lord is perfect freedom.” But this
service, in all its departments, involves the most simple dependence upon
the living God. Thus it was with the only true and perfect Servant that
ever trod this earth. He was ever dependent. Every movement, every act,
every word—all He did, and all He left undone—was the fruit of the most
absolute dependence upon and subjection to God. He moved when God would
have Him move, and stood still when God would have Him stand; He spoke
when God would have Him speak, and was silent when God would have Him
silent.
Such was Jesus when He lived in this world; and we, as partakers of His
nature—His life, and having His Spirit dwelling in us, are called to walk
in His steps, and live a life of simple dependence upon God, from day
to day. Of this life of dependence, in one special phase of it, we have
a graphic and beautiful type at the close of our chapter. The Israel of
God—the camp in the desert—that pilgrim host—followed the movement of the
cloud. They had to _look up_ for guidance. This is man’s proper work. He
was made to turn his countenance upward, in contrast with the brute, who
is formed to look downward.[12] Israel could form no plans. They could
never say, “To-morrow we shall go to such a place.” They were entirely
dependent upon the movement of the cloud.
Thus it was with Israel, and thus it should be with us. We are passing
through a trackless desert—a moral wilderness. There is absolutely no
way. We should not know how to walk, or where to go, were it not for
that one most precious, most deep, most comprehensive sentence which fell
from the lips of our blessed Lord, “_I am the way_.” Here is divine,
infallible guidance. We are to follow Him. “I am the light of the world:
he that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the
light of life.” (John viii.) This is living guidance. It is not acting
according to the letter of certain rules and regulations; it is following
a living Christ—walking as He walked, doing as He did, imitating His
example in all things. This is Christian movement—Christian action. It is
keeping the eye fixed upon Jesus, and having the features, traits, and
lineaments of His character imprinted on our new nature, and reflected
back or reproduced in our daily life and ways.
Now this will assuredly involve the surrender of our own will, our own
plans, our own management, altogether. We must follow the cloud: we must
wait _ever_, wait _only_, upon God. We cannot say, We shall go here or
there, do this or that, to-morrow, or next week. All our movements must
be placed under the regulating power of that one commanding sentence
(often, alas! lightly penned and uttered by us), “_If the Lord will_.”
Oh that we better understood all this! Would that we knew more perfectly
the meaning of divine guidance! How often do we vainly imagine, and
confidently assert, that the cloud is moving in that very direction
which suits the bent of our inclination! We want to do a certain thing,
or make a certain movement, and we seek to persuade ourselves that our
will is the will of God. Thus, instead of being divinely guided, we
are self-deceived. Our will is unbroken, and hence we cannot be guided
aright; for the real secret of being rightly guided—guided of God—is
to have our own will thoroughly subdued. “The meek will He guide in
judgment; and the meek will He teach _His way_.” And again, “I will guide
thee with Mine eye.” But let us ponder the admonition, “Be ye not as the
horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding; whose mouth must be
held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.” (Ps. xxxii.)
If the countenance be turned upwards, to catch the movement of the divine
“eye,” we shall not need the “bit and bridle.” But here is precisely the
point in which we so sadly fail. We do not live sufficiently near to God
to discern the movement of His eye. The will is at work. We want to have
our own way, and hence we are left to reap the bitter fruits thereof.
Thus it was with Jonah. He was told to go to Nineveh, but he wanted to
go to Tarshish; and circumstances seemed to favor; providence seemed to
point in the direction of his will. But, ah! he had to find his place in
the belly of the whale—yea, in “the belly of hell” itself, where “the
weeds were wrapped about his head.” It was there he learnt the bitterness
of following his own will. He had to be taught in the depths of the ocean
the true meaning of the “bit and bridle,” because he would not follow the
gentler guidance of the eye.
But our God is so gracious, so tender, so patient? He will teach and He
will guide His poor feeble, erring children. He spares no pains with us.
He occupies Himself continually about us, in order that we may be kept
from our own ways, which are full of thorns and briars, and walk in His
ways, which are pleasantness and peace.
There is nothing in all this world more deeply blessed than to lead a
life of habitual dependence upon God; to hang upon Him moment by moment,
to wait on Him and cling to Him for every thing, to have all our springs
in Him; it is the true secret of peace, and of holy independence of the
creature. The soul that can really say, “_All_ my springs are in Thee”
is lifted above all creature-confidences, human hopes, and earthly
expectations. It is not that God does not use the creature, in a thousand
ways, to minister to us; we do not at all mean this. He does use the
creature; but if we _lean_ upon the creature, instead of leaning upon
Him, we shall very speedily get leanness and barrenness into our souls.
There is a vast difference between God’s using the creature to bless us,
and our leaning on the creature to the exclusion of Him. In the one case,
we are blessed and He is glorified; in the other, we are disappointed and
He is dishonored.
It is well that the soul should deeply and seriously consider this
distinction. We believe it is constantly overlooked. We imagine,
ofttimes, that we are leaning upon and looking to God, when, in reality,
if we would only look honestly at the roots of things, and judge
ourselves in the immediate presence of God, we should find an appalling
amount of the leaven of creature-confidence. How often do we speak of
living by faith, and of trusting only in God, when, at the same time, if
we would only look down into the depths of our hearts, we should find
there a large measure of dependence upon circumstances, references to
second causes, and the like.
Christian reader, let us look well to this. Let us see to it that our
eye is fixed upon the living God alone, and not upon man whose breath
is in his nostrils. Let us wait on Him—wait patiently—wait constantly.
If we are at a loss for any thing, let our direct and simple reference
be to Him. Are we at a loss to know our way, to know whither we should
turn, what step we should take? let us remember that He has said, “I
am the way;” let us follow Him. He will make all clear, bright, and
certain. There can be no darkness, no perplexity, no uncertainty, if we
are following Him; for He has said, and we are bound to believe, “He that
followeth Me shall not walk in darkness.” Hence, therefore, if we are in
darkness, it is certain that we are not following Him. No darkness can
ever settle down upon that blessed path along which God leads those who,
with a single eye, seek to follow Jesus.
But some one whose eye scans these lines may say, or at least may feel
disposed to say, Well, after all, I am in perplexity as to my path. I
really do not know which way to turn, or what step to take. If this be
the language of the reader, we would simply ask him this one question,
Art thou following Jesus? If so, thou canst not be in perplexity. Art
thou following the cloud? If so, thy way is as plain as God can make it.
Here lies the root of the whole matter. Perplexity and uncertainty is
very often the fruit of the working of the _will_. We are bent upon doing
something which God does not want us to do at all—upon going somewhere
that God does not want us to go. We pray about it, and get no answer; we
pray again and again, and get no answer. How is this? Why, the simple
fact is that God wants us to be quiet—to stand still—to remain just where
we are. Wherefore, instead of racking our brain and harassing our souls
about what we ought to do, let us do nothing, but simply wait on God.
This is the secret of peace and calm elevation. If an Israelite in the
desert had taken it into his head to make some movement independent of
Jehovah; if he took it upon him to move when the cloud was at rest, or
to halt while the cloud was moving, we can easily see what the result
would have been. And so it will ever be with us. If we move when we ought
to rest, or rest when we ought to move, we shall not have the divine
presence with us. “At the commandment of the Lord they rested in the
tents, and at the commandment of the Lord they journeyed.” They were kept
in constant waiting upon God—the most blessed position that any one can
occupy: but it must be occupied ere its blessedness can be tasted. It is
a reality to be known, not a mere theory to be talked of. May it be ours
to prove it all our journey through.