“Then came the children of Israel, even the whole congregation, into the
desert of Zin, in the first month: and the people abode in Kadesh; and
Miriam died there, and was buried there.” (Ver. 1.)
The chapter which now opens before us furnishes a very remarkable record
of wilderness life and experience. In it we see Moses, the servant of
God, passing through some of the most trying scenes of his eventful
life. First of all, Miriam dies. The one whose voice was heard, amid the
brilliant scenes of Exodus xv, chanting a hymn of victory passes away,
and her ashes are deposited in the wilderness of Kadesh. The timbrel is
laid aside. The voice of song is hushed in the silence of death. She can
no longer lead in the dance. She had sung sweetly in her day; she had
very blessedly seized the key-note of that magnificent song of praise
sung on the resurrection side of the Red Sea. Her chorus embodied the
great central truth of redemption.—“Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath
triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath He thrown into the
sea.” This was truly a lofty strain; it was the suited utterance for the
joyous occasion.
But now the prophetess passes off the scene, and the voice of melody
is exchanged for the voice of murmuring. Wilderness life is becoming
irksome. The trials of the desert put nature to the test; they bring out
what is in the heart. Forty years’ toil and travail make a great change
in people. It is very rare indeed to find a case in which the verdure and
freshness of spiritual life are kept up, much less augmented, throughout
all the stages of Christian life and warfare. It ought not to be such a
rarity; it ought to be the very reverse, inasmuch as it is in the actual
details, the stern realities of our path through this world, that we
prove what God is. He, blessed be His name, takes occasion from the very
trials of the way to make Himself known to us in all the sweetness and
tenderness of love that knows no change. His loving-kindness and tender
mercy never fail. Nothing can exhaust those springs which are in the
living God. He will be what He is spite of all our naughtiness: God will
be God, let man prove himself ever so faithless and faulty.
This is our comfort, our joy, and the source of our strength. We have
to do with the living God. What a reality! Come what may, He will prove
Himself equal to every emergency—amply sufficient “for exigence of
every hour.” His patient grace can bear with our manifold infirmities,
failures, and shortcomings, and His strength is made perfect in our utter
weakness. His faithfulness never fails; His mercy is from everlasting
to everlasting. Friends fail or pass away; links of fond friendship are
snapped in this cold, heartless world; fellow-laborers part company;
Miriams and Aarons die; but God remaineth. Here lies the deep secret of
all true and solid blessedness. If we have the hand and heart of the
living God with us, we need not fear. If we can say, “The Lord is my
Shepherd,” we can assuredly add, “We shall not want.”
Still there are the scenes of sorrow and trial in the desert, and we have
to go through them. Thus it was with Israel in the chapter before us.
They were called to meet the keen blasts of the wilderness, and they met
them with accents of impatience and discontent. “And there was no water
for the congregation: and they gathered themselves together against Moses
and against Aaron. And the people chode with Moses, and spake, saying,
‘Would God that we had died when our brethren died before the Lord! And
why have ye brought up the congregation of the Lord into this wilderness,
that we and our cattle should die there? And wherefore have ye made us to
come up out of Egypt, to bring us unto this evil place? It is no place of
seed, or of figs, or of vines, or of pomegranates; neither is there any
water to drink.’” (Ver. 2-5.)
This was a deeply trying moment to the spirit of Moses. We can form no
conception of what it must have been to encounter six hundred thousand
murmurers, and to be obliged to listen to their bitter invectives, and to
hear himself charged with all the misfortunes which their own unbelief
had conjured up before them. All this was no ordinary trial of patience;
and most assuredly _we_ need not marvel if that dear and honored servant
found the occasion too much for him. “And Moses and Aaron went from
the presence of the assembly unto the door of the tabernacle of the
congregation, and they fell upon their faces: and the glory of the Lord
appeared unto them.” (Ver. 6.)
It is deeply touching to find Moses, again and again, on his face before
God. It was a sweet relief to make his escape from a tumultuous host
and betake himself to the only One whose resources were adequate to
meet such an occasion. “They fell upon their faces; and the glory of
the Lord appeared unto them.” They do not appear, on this occasion, to
have attempted any reply to the people; “they went from the presence
of the assembly” and cast themselves upon the living God. They could
not possibly have done better. Who but the God of all grace could meet
the ten thousand necessities of wilderness life? Well had Moses said,
at the very beginning, “If Thy presence go not with us, carry us not
up hence.” Assuredly, he was right and wise in so expressing himself.
The divine presence was the _only_ answer to the demand of such a
congregation; but that presence _was_ an all-sufficient answer. God’s
treasury is absolutely inexhaustible. He can never fail a trusting heart.
Let us remember this. God delights to be used; He never grows weary of
ministering to the need of His people. If this were ever kept in the
remembrance of the thoughts of our hearts, we should hear less of the
accents of impatience and discontent, and more of the sweet language of
thankfulness and praise; but, as we have had frequent occasion to remark,
desert life tests every one. It proves what is in us, and, thanks be to
God, it brings out what is in _Him_ for us.
“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Take _the_ rod, and gather thou
the assembly together, thou and Aaron thy brother, and speak ye unto
the rock before their eyes; and it shall give forth his water, and thou
shalt bring forth to them water out of the rock: so thou shalt give the
congregation and their beasts drink.’ And Moses took _the_ rod from
before the Lord as He commanded him. And Moses and Aaron gathered the
congregation together before the rock, and he said unto them, ‘Hear, now,
ye rebels; must we fetch you water out of this rock?’ And Moses lifted up
his hand, and with _his_ rod he smote the rock twice: and the water came
out abundantly; and the congregation drank, and their beasts also.” (Ver.
7-11.)
Two objects in the foregoing quotation demand the reader’s attention,
namely, “The rock” and “the rod.” They both present Christ most blessedly
to the soul, but in two distinct aspects. In 1 Corinthians x. 4, we read,
“They drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them: and that Rock was
Christ.” This is plain and positive. It leaves no room whatever for the
exercise of imagination. “That Rock was Christ”—Christ smitten for us.
Then as regards “the rod,” we must remember that it was not the rod of
Moses—the rod of authority—the rod of power. This would not suit the
occasion before us. It had done its work; it had smitten the rock once,
and that was enough. This we learn from Exodus xvii, where we read, “The
Lord said unto Moses, ‘Go on before the people, and take with thee of the
elders of Israel; and _thy_ rod, _wherewith thou smotest the river_ (see
Exodus vii. 20.), take in thy hand and go. Behold, I will stand before
thee there upon the rock in Horeb; and thou shalt smite the rock, and
there shall come water out of it, that the people may drink.’ And Moses
did so in the sight of the elders of Israel.”
Here we have a type of Christ smitten for us, by the hand of God, in
judgment. The reader will note the expression, “Thy rod wherewith thou
smotest the river.” Why the river? why should this particular stroke
of the rod be referred to? Exodus vii. 20 furnishes the reply.—“And he
[Moses] lifted up the rod, and smote the waters that were in the river,
in the sight of Pharaoh, and in the sight of his servants; and all the
waters that were in the river were _turned to blood_.” It was the rod
which turned the water into blood that was to smite “that Rock which was
Christ,” in order that streams of life and refreshment might flow for us.
Now, this smiting could only take place once; it is never to be repeated.
“Knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more; death hath
no more dominion over Him. For in that He died, He died unto sin _once_;
but in that He liveth, He liveth unto God.” (Rom. vi. 9, 10.) “But now
_once_ in the end of the world hath He appeared to put away sin by the
sacrifice of Himself; ... so Christ was _once_ offered to bear the sins
of many.” (Heb. ix. 26, 28.) “For Christ also hath _once_ suffered for
sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God.” (1 Pet.
iii. 18.)
There can be no repetition of the death of Christ, and hence Moses was
wrong in smiting the rock twice with _his_ rod—wrong in smiting it at
all. He was commanded to take “_the rod_”—Aaron’s rod—the priestly rod,
and speak to the rock. The atoning work is done, and now our great
High-Priest has passed into the heavens, there to appear in the presence
of God for us, and the streams of spiritual refreshment flow to us on
the ground of accomplished redemption and in connection with Christ’s
priestly ministry, of which Aaron’s budding rod is the exquisite figure.
Hence, then, it was a grave mistake for Moses to smite the rock a second
time—a mistake to use his rod in the matter at all. To have smitten
with Aaron’s rod would, as we can easily understand, have spoiled its
lovely blossom. A word would have sufficed in connection with the rod of
priesthood—the rod of grace. Moses failed to see this—failed to glorify
God. He spoke unadvisedly with his lips, and as a consequence, he was
prohibited going over Jordan. His rod could not take the people over—for
what could mere authority do with a murmuring host—and he was not
suffered to go over himself, because he failed to sanctify Jehovah in
the eyes of the congregation.
But Jehovah took care of His own glory. He sanctified Himself before the
people, and notwithstanding their rebellious murmurings, and Moses’ sad
mistake and failure, the congregation of the Lord received a gushing
stream from the smitten rock.
Nor was this all. It was not merely that grace triumphed in furnishing
Israel’s murmuring hosts with drink, but even in reference to Moses
himself it shines out most brilliantly, as we may see in Deuteronomy
xxxiv. It was grace that brought Moses to the top of Pisgah and showed
him the land of Canaan from thence. It was grace that led Jehovah to
provide a grave for His servant and bury him therein. It was better to
see the land of Canaan in company with God than to enter it in company
with Israel. And yet we must not forget that Moses was prevented entering
the land because of the unadvised speaking. God in government kept
Moses out of Canaan: God in grace brought Moses up to Pisgah. These two
facts in the history of Moses illustrate very forcibly the distinction
between grace and government—a subject of the deepest interest, and of
great practical value. Grace pardons and blesses, but government takes
its course. Let us ever remember this. “Whatsoever a man soweth, that
shall he also reap.” This principle runs through all the ways of God in
government, and nothing can be more solemn; nevertheless, “grace reigns
through righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord.” All
praise to Him who is at once the fountain and the channel of this grace!
From verses 14-20 of our chapter, we have the correspondence between
Moses and the king of Edom. It is instructive and interesting to notice
the style of each, and to compare it with the history given in Genesis
xxxii, xxxiii. Esau had a serious grudge against Jacob; and albeit,
through the direct interposition of God, he was not suffered to touch
a hair of his brother’s head, still, on the other hand, Israel must
not meddle with Esau’s possessions. Jacob had supplanted Esau, and
Israel must not molest Edom. “Command thou the people, saying, Ye are
to pass through the coast of your brethren the children of Esau, which
dwell in Seir; and they shall be afraid of you: take ye good heed unto
yourselves therefore. Meddle not with them; for I will not give you of
their land—no, not so much as a foot-breadth, because I have given Mount
Seir unto Esau for a possession. Ye shall buy meat of them for money,
that ye may eat; and ye shall also buy water of them for money, that ye
may drink.” (Deut. ii. 4-6.) Thus we see that the same God who would not
suffer Esau to touch Jacob, in Genesis xxxiii, now will not suffer Israel
to touch Edom, in Numbers xx.
The closing paragraph of Numbers xx. is deeply touching. We shall not
quote it, but the reader should refer to it, and compare it carefully
with the scene in Exodus iv. 1-17. Moses had deemed Aaron’s companionship
indispensable; but he afterwards found him to be a sore thorn in his
side, and here he is compelled to strip him of his robes and see him
gathered to his fathers. All this is very admonitory, in whatever way we
view it, whether as regards Moses or Aaron. We have already referred to
this instructive piece of history, and therefore we shall not dwell upon
it here; but may the good Lord engrave its solemn lesson deeply upon the
tablets of our hearts.