THE VALLEY OF ELAH
No sooner had the anointing oil of the Lord been poured upon David,
than he was called forth from his retirement to stand before king
Saul, now forsaken of God, and troubled with an evil spirit. This
unhappy man needed the soothing notes of David's harp to dispel the
horrid influence of that spirit which now haunted him from day to day.
Wretched man! sad monument of the results of a self-seeking course!
David, however, did not hesitate to take his place as _a servant_,
even in the house of one who was afterwards to prove his most bitter
enemy. It was quite the same to him where he served or what he did; he
would protect his father's flocks from lions and bears, or dispel an
evil spirit from Saul. In fact, from the moment David's history opens,
he is seen as a servant, ready for every kind of work, and the valley
of Elah furnishes a most striking manifestation of his servant
character.
Saul would seem to have had little idea of who it was that stood
before him, and whose music refreshed his troubled spirit; he knew not
that he had in his presence the future king of Israel. "He loved him
greatly; and he became his armor-bearer." The selfish Saul would
gladly use the services of David in his need, though ready to shed his
blood when he understood who and what he was.
But let us turn our thoughts to the deeply interesting scenes in the
valley of Elah.
"Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle." Here
now we come to something calculated to bring out the true character
and worth of Saul and David, the man of form and the man of power. It
is trial that brings out the reality of a man's resources. Saul had
already been proved, for "all the people had followed him trembling,"
nor was he likely to prove a more soul-stirring leader on this
occasion. A man forsaken of God, and plagued by an evil spirit, was
but little adapted to lead on an army to battle, and still less to
meet, single-handed, the powerful giant of Gath.
The struggle in the valley of Elah was rendered exceedingly peculiar
by the challenge, on the part of Goliath, to decide the matter by
single combat; it was the very method in which an _individual_ might
be signalized. It was not, as in ordinary cases, army against army,
but it was a question of who, throughout all the host of Israel, would
venture to stand before the terrific uncircumcised foe. In fact, it is
plain that the blessed God was about to make manifest again to Israel
that, as a people, they were utterly powerless, and that their only
deliverance, as of old, was the arm of Jehovah, who was still ready to
act in His wondrous character of "a man of war," whenever faith
addressed Him as such.
For forty successive days did the Philistine draw near and present
himself in the view of the unhappy Saul and his awe-struck army. And
observe his bitter taunt--"Am not I a Philistine, and _ye servants to
Saul_?" Alas! it was but too true; they had come down from their high
elevation as servants to Jehovah to become mere servants to Saul.
Samuel had forewarned them of all this--he had told them that they
would become footmen, bakers, cooks, and confectioners to their
self-chosen master; and all this, as their choice, instead of having
the Lord God of Israel as their sole master and King. Nothing will
teach man, however, save bitter experience; and the cutting taunts of
Goliath would, no doubt, teach Israel afresh the real nature of their
condition under the crushing rule of the Philistines. "Choose you a
_man_ for you, and let him come down to me," said the giant. How
little did he know who was about to be his antagonist. He, in all his
boasted fleshly strength, vainly imagined that no Israelite could
stand before him.
And here we may inquire, what of Jonathan in all this scene? He who
had acted in such simple faith and energy in chap. xiv., why was he
not now ready to go forth against this champion? I doubt not if we
look particularly at his actings, we shall find that his faith was not
of that simple, independent character which would carry a man through
all kinds of difficulties. The defect in his faith appears in the
words, "_If_ they say thus," etc. Faith never says "if:" it has to do
only with God. When Jonathan said "There is no restraint to the
Lord," he uttered a fine principle of truth, and one which should have
carried him on without an "if." Had Jonathan's soul been reposing
simply in the ability of _God_, he would not have sought for a sign.
True, the Lord graciously gave him the sign, just as He had given one
to Gideon before, for He ever meets His servants in all their needs.
However, Jonathan does not make his appearance in the valley of Elah;
he had, it seems, done his work, and acted according to his measure;
but, in the scene now before us, there was a demand for something far
deeper than anything Jonathan had known.
But the Lord was secretly preparing an instrument for this new and
more difficult work. And, my reader, may we not say it is ever thus
that the blessed God acts? He trains in secret those whom He is about
to use in public. He makes His servants acquainted with Himself in the
secret solemnity of His sanctuary, and causes His greatness to pass in
review before them, that thus they may be able to look with a steady
gaze at the difficulties of their path. Thus it was with David. He had
been alone with God while keeping the sheep in the wilderness; his
soul had become filled with the thought of God's power; and now he
makes his appearance in the valley of Elah, in all the simplicity and
self-renouncing dignity of a man of faith. The emptiness of man had
been fully proved by the forty days of Goliath's haughty boasting.
Saul could avail nothing; Jesse's three eldest sons could avail
nothing; yea, even Jonathan could avail nothing; all was lost, or
seemed to be, when the stripling David entered the scene, clothed in
the strength of Him who was about to lay in the dust the pomp and
glory of the proud Philistine. The words of Goliath were reported to
David, and in them he at once recognized a blasphemous defiance of the
living God. "Who," said he, "is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he
should defy the armies of _the living God_?" David's faith recognized
in the trembling host before him the army of the living God, and he at
once made it a question between Jehovah and the Philistine.
This is most instructive: for no change of circumstances can ever rob
the people of God of their dignity in the eye of faith. They may be
brought low in the view of man, as in Israel's case on the present
occasion, but faith ever recognizes what God has imparted; and hence
David, as he beheld his poor brethren fainting in the view of their
terrible enemy, was enabled to acknowledge those with whom the living
God had identified Himself, and who ought not, therefore, to be defied
by an uncircumcised Philistine. When faith is in exercise, it brings
the soul into direct connection with the grace and faithfulness of God
and His purposes toward His people. True, Israel had brought all this
sorrow and humiliation upon themselves by their unfaithfulness; it was
not of the Lord that they should quail in the presence of an enemy; it
was the fruit of their own doing, and faith would ever apprehend and
acknowledge this. Still, the question is, "Who is this uncircumcised
Philistine?" This is the inquiry of faith. It was not the army of
_Saul_ that the man of faith beheld. No; it was the army of the
_living God_--an army under the command of the same Captain that had
led His hosts through the Red Sea, through the terrible wilderness,
and through Jordan. Nothing less, nothing lower than this, was in the
eye of faith.
But then, how little are the judgment and the actings of faith
understood or valued when things get low amongst the people of God!
This is very apparent on every page of Israel's history, and, we may
say, on every page of the Church's history also. The path of simple,
childlike faith is far removed from human sight; and if the Lord's
people sink into a low, carnal state, they can never understand the
principle of power in the soul of one really acting by faith. He will
be misunderstood in various ways, and have wrong motives attributed to
him; he will be accused of setting himself up, or acting wilfully,
independently. All these things must be expected by one who stands in
the breach, at a time when things are low. Through lack of faith in
the majority, a man is left alone, and then, when he is led to act for
God, he will be misinterpreted.
Thus it was in David's case. Not only was he left alone in the time of
difficulty, but he had to endure the taunt of the flesh, administered
by Eliab, his eldest brother. "And Eliab his eldest brother heard when
he spake unto the men; and Eliab's anger was kindled against David,
and he said, Why camest thou down hither? and with whom hast thou left
those few sheep in the wilderness? _I know thy pride, and the
naughtiness of thy heart_; for thou art come down that thou mightest
see the battle." (Chap. xvii. 28.) This was the judgment of Eliab, in
reference to the actings of David. "And David said, What have I now
done? Is there not a cause?" David was borne onward by an energy quite
unknown to Eliab, nor was he careful to enter upon a defence of his
course to his haughty brother. Why had not Eliab acted himself for the
defence of his brethren? Why had not Abinadab or Shammah acted?
Because they were faithless; simply this. Not only had those three men
remained powerless, but the whole congregation had remained
terror-stricken in the presence of the enemy, and now, when one
appeared in their midst whom God was about to use marvellously, not
one could understand him.
"And David said to Saul, Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy
servant will go and fight with this Philistine." Precious faith! no
difficulty deters it--nothing stands in its way. What was the
Philistine to David? Nothing. His tremendous height, his formidable
armor, were mere circumstances; _and faith never looks at
circumstances, but looks straight to God_. Had not David's soul been
buoyed up by faith, he could not have uttered the words, "Thy servant
will go;" for, harken to the words of him who ought to have been the
first to face Israel's dreadful enemy: "And Saul said to David, Thou
art not able to go against this Philistine." What language for the
king of Israel! What a contrast between the man of office and the man
of power! Surely Saul ought to have gone forth in the defence of the
flock which had been intrusted to his care; but, ah! Saul cared not
for Israel, unless so far as Israel was connected with himself, and
hence his exposing his person on their behalf never, we may safely
say, entered his selfish heart; and not only was he unable and
unwilling to act himself, but would fain clog the energies of one who,
even now, was putting forth the precious fruits of that divine
principle implanted within him, and which was about to prove him so
fit for the high office which the purpose of God had assigned to him,
and to which His anointing oil had dedicated him.
"_Thou_ art not able." True, but Jehovah was; and David was leaning
simply upon the strength of His arm. His faith laid hold of the
ability of Him who had appeared to Joshua beneath the walls of
Jericho, with a sword drawn in His hand, as "Captain of the host of
the Lord." David felt that Israel had not ceased to be the Lord's
host, though so far sunk from what they were in Joshua's day. No; they
were still the army of the Lord, and the battle was just as much the
Lord's battle as when the sun and the moon were arrested in their
course in order that Joshua might execute the judgment of God upon the
Canaanites. Simple faith in God sustained the spirit of David, though
Eliab might accuse him of pride, and Saul might talk of his want of
ability.
My reader, there is nothing that can possibly give such energy and
persevering power as the consciousness of acting _for God_, and that
God is acting _with us_. This removes every obstacle; it lifts the
soul above all human influence, and brings it into the very region of
power omnipotent. Let us only be fully assured that we _are_ on the
Lord's side, and that His hand is acting with us, and nothing can
drive us from the path of service and testimony--conduct us whither it
may. "I can do all things," said the apostle, "through Christ which
strengtheneth me." And again, "Most gladly therefore will I rather
glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."
The very weakest saint can do all things through Christ. But if man's
eye rests on this weak saint, it seems like presumption to talk of
"doing all things."
Thus, when Saul looked upon David, and compared him with Goliath, he
judged rightly when he said, "Thou art not able to go against this
Philistine to fight with him: for thou art but a youth, and he a man
of war from his youth." It was a comparison of flesh with flesh, and,
as such, it was quite correct. To compare a stripling with a giant
would leave little room for hesitation as to the issue of the
conflict; but he ought to have compared the strength of Goliath with
that of the God of the armies of Israel. This was what David did. "And
David said unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and there
came a lion and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock: and I went
out after him, and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and
when he arose against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him,
and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this
uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing he hath
defied the armies of the living God." This was the argument of faith.
The hand that had delivered from one difficulty would deliver from
another. There is no "if" in all this. David did not wait for a sign;
he simply said, "_Thy servant will go_." David had felt the power of
God's presence with him in secret before he came forth to present
himself in public as the servant of God and of Israel. As another has
remarked, David had not boasted of his triumph over the lion and the
bear; no one seemed to have heard of it before; nor would he probably
have spoken of it, had it not been for the purpose of showing what a
solid ground of confidence he had in reference to the great work on
which he was about to enter. He would fain show that it was not in his
own strength he was going forth. So was it in the matter of Paul's
rapture to the third heaven: for fourteen years had that circumstance
remained buried as a secret with the apostle, nor would he have
divulged it, had not the carnal reasonings of the Corinthians
compelled him to do so.
Now, both these cases are full of practical instruction for us. With
the majority of us, alas, there is too great a readiness to talk of
our doings, or, at least, to think much of them. The flesh is prone
to glory in anything that might exalt _self_; and if the Lord, despite
of the evil in us, has accomplished any little service by our
instrumentality, how speedily is it communicated in a spirit of pride
and self-complacency. It is all right to speak of the Lord's grace,
and to have our hearts filled with thankful adoration because of it;
but this is very different from boasting of things connected with
self.
David, however, kept the secret of his triumph over the lion and the
bear concealed in his own bosom, and did not bring it forth until the
fitting occasion; nor does he, even then, speak of himself as having
achieved aught, but he simply says, "_The Lord that delivered me_ out
of the paw of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear, He will
deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine." Precious,
self-renouncing faith!--faith that counts on God for everything, and
trusts the flesh in nothing--faith which brings God into every
difficulty, and leads us, with deepest thankfulness, to hide self, and
give Him all the glory.
But it frequently needs much spirituality to detect the vast
difference between the language of faith and the language of mere
commonplace and formal religiousness. Saul assumed the garb and
phraseology of religiousness; we have already seen much of this in his
history, and we see it in his interview with David. Mere
_religiousness_ and _faith_ here are seen in marked contrast. When
David had made the clear and unequivocal statement of faith in the
presence and power of Jehovah, Saul added, "_Go, and the Lord be with
thee_." But, ah, how little did he know what was involved in having
the Lord with him. He _seemed_ to trust the Lord, but _in reality_ he
trusted his armor. Had he understood what he said, why think of
putting on armor? "The Lord be with thee" was in Saul's mouth a mere
commonplace: it really meant nothing, for he had no idea of David's
going _simply_ with the Lord.
It is well to dwell upon, and distinctly point out, the evil of
this--the evil of using words which, so far as we are concerned, mean
nothing, but which involve a trifling with the Lord's name and truth.
How often do we speak of trusting the Lord, when, in reality, we are
leaning on some circumstance, or set of circumstances. How often do we
speak of living by the day, in simple dependence upon God, when, if we
judged the positive condition of our souls before God, we should find
that we were looking to some human or earthly source of supply. This
is a sad evil, and should be most carefully watched against. It was
just what Saul exhibited, when, having made use of the apparently
devout expression, "The Lord be with thee," he proceeded to "arm David
with his armor, and he put a helmet of brass upon his head; also he
armed him with a coat of mail." He had no other idea but that David
was to fight in the usual way. No doubt, it was _professedly_ in the
name of the Lord: but he thought David _ought to use means_. But it
happens that we frequently speak of using means and really shut out
God; we profess to use means in dependence upon God, and, in reality,
use the mere name of God in dependence upon the means. This is
virtually, and according to the judgment of faith, to make a God of
our means. Whether had Saul more confidence, in the Lord or in the
armor? In the armor, no doubt; and so with all who do not truly walk
by faith; it is the _means_ they lean upon, and not upon God.
My reader will, doubtless, perceive how strikingly all this bears upon
the title of this little book, viz., "The Life of Faith." We can
hardly dwell upon any point in our subject more important than that
suggested by the interesting scene on which we are immediately
dwelling. The man of means, and the man of faith, are really before
us; and we can at once perceive how far the latter proceeds in the use
of means. Means are to be used, no doubt, but only such means as are
perfectly consistent with the full and blessed action of faith, and
also with the untarnished glory of the God of all power and grace. Now
David felt that Saul's armor and coat of mail were not such means, and
he, therefore, refused them. Had he gone with them, the victory would
not have been so manifestly the Lord's. But David had professed his
faith in the Lord's deliverance, and not in human armor. True, means
will be used; but let us take care that our means do not shut out
God.[12]
[12] Faith, waiting on God, allows Him to use what means soever He
pleases. It does not ask Him to bless _our_ means, but lets Him use
His own.
"And David girded his sword upon his armor, and he assayed to go; for
he had not proved it. And David said unto Saul, I cannot go with
these; for I have not proved them. And David put them off him." Happy
deliverance from the trammels of human policy! It has been observed,
and most truly so, that David's trial was not when he met the giant,
in actual conflict, but when he was tempted to use Saul's armor. Had
the enemy succeeded in inducing him to go with that, all was gone;
but, through grace, he rejected it, and thus left himself entirely in
the Lord's hands, and we know what security he found there. This is
faith. It leaves itself in God's hand.[13]
[13] How often it happens that the child of God or the servant of
Christ, harnessed with human devices for his work, finds himself
burdened and hampered with these trammels to obedience and faith. Let
them be but shaken off, through grace, and the soul cast upon God
finds at once the joy and liberty for the service and energy of faith.
[Ed.]
And, my reader, may we not apply this with much profit to the case of
a poor helpless sinner in reference to the forgiveness of his sins? I
believe we may. Satan will tempt such an one to seek some addition to
the finished work of Christ--something that will detract from the
glory of the Son of God as the _only_ Saviour of sinners. Now to such
I would say, It matters not _what_ you add to the work of Christ,--you
make it of no avail. If it might be permitted to add anything, surely
circumcision would have been admitted, as being an ordinance of divine
institution; yet the apostle says, "Behold, I Paul say unto you, that
if ye be circumcised, Christ shall profit you nothing. For I testify
again to every man that is circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the
whole law. Christ is become of no effect unto you, whosoever of you
are justified by the law; ye are fallen from grace." (Gal. v. 2-4) In
a word, then, we must have Christ _alone_; we want no more, we can do
with no less. If our works are to be put in with Christ's, then He is
not sufficient. We dishonor the sufficiency of His atonement if we
seek to connect aught of our own with it, just as David would have
dishonored the Lord by going forth to meet the Philistine champion in
Saul's armor. Doubtless many a so-called prudent man would have
condemned what seemed to him to be the rashness and fool-hardiness of
the stripling; indeed, the more practised a man was in human warfare,
the more likely would he have been to condemn the course adopted by
the man of faith. But what of that? David knew in whom he had
believed; he knew it was not rashness that was leading him on, but
simple faith in God's willingness and ability to meet him in his need.
Few, perhaps, in Saul's army knew the weakness of David as realized by
himself in that trying moment. Though all eyes were fastened upon him
as one having much self-confidence, yet we know what it was that
buoyed up his heart, and gave firmness to his step as he went forth to
meet the terrible foe. We know that the power of God was there just as
manifestly as when the waters of the sea were divided to make a way
for the ransomed to pass over; and when faith brings the power of God
into action, nothing can stand in the way.
Verse 40 shows us David's armor. "And he took his staff in his hand,
and chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a
shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip; and his sling was in his
hand: and he drew near to the Philistine." So, we see, David did use
means; but what means! What contempt does David cast upon the
ponderous armor of his enemy! How his sling must have contrasted with
Goliath's spear like a weaver's beam! In fact, David could not have
inflicted a deeper wound upon the Philistine's pride than by coming
against him with such weapons. Goliath felt this. "Am I a dog?" said
he. It mattered not, in the judgment of faith, what he was, dog or
giant; he was an enemy of the people of God, and David was meeting him
with the weapons of faith. "Then said David to the Philistine, Thou
comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield: but I
come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies
of Israel, whom thou hast defied. This day will the Lord deliver thee
into my hand ... that all the earth may know that there is a God in
Israel. And all this assembly shall know that _the Lord saveth not
with sword and spear_: for the battle is the Lord's, and He will give
you into our hands."[14] Here we have the true object of the man of
faith, viz., that Israel and all the earth might have a glorious
testimony to the power and presence of God in the midst of His people.
If David had used Saul's armor it would not have been known that the
Lord saved not by sword and spear--his warfare would just seem like
any other; but the sling and the stone while giving little prominence
to him that used it, gave the glory to Him from whom the victory
came.[15]
[14] For the important distinction between the expressions, "Lord" and
"God"--Jehovah and Elohim--see "Notes on the Book of Genesis," chap.
ii.
[15] It is interesting to observe David's address to Goliath. He does
not say, "I come to thee _with a sling and a stone_." No; but, "in the
name of the Lord of hosts." With him, it is not the means, but "the
Lord of hosts" on which he fixes his eyes.
Faith ever honors God, and God ever honors faith. David, as has been
already remarked, put himself into the hands of God, and the happy
result of so doing was victory--full, glorious victory. "David
prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote
the Philistine, and slew him; _but there was no sword in the hand of
David_." Magnificent triumph! Precious fruit of simple faith in God!
How should it encourage the heart to cast away from it every carnal
confidence, and to cling to the only true source of power. David was
made the happy instrument of delivering his brethren from the galling
and terrifying threats of the uncircumcised Philistine; he had come
into their midst, from the retirement of a shepherd's life, unknown
and despised, though the anointed king of Israel; he had gone forth
single-handed to meet the enemy of the congregation; he had laid him
prostrate, and made a show of him openly; and all this, be it
remembered, as _the servant_ of God, and the servant of Israel, and in
the energy of a faith which circumstances could not shake. It was a
wondrous deliverance, gained by a single blow--no manœuvring of
armies--no skill of generals--no prowess of soldiers. No; a stone from
the brook, slung by a shepherd's hand, settled the whole matter. It
was the victory of faith.
"And when the Philistines saw that their champion was dead, they
fled." How vain are those hopes which are based on the perishable
resources of flesh, in its greatest apparent strength and energy! Who
that saw the giant and the stripling about to engage in conflict, but
would have trembled for the latter? Who would have thought that all
the massy armor would come to nothing before a sling and a stone? Yet
see the end. The champion of the Philistines fell, and with him all
their fondly-cherished hopes. "And the men of Israel and of Judah
arose, and shouted, and pursued the Philistines." Yes: they might well
shout, for God was manifestly gone out before them, to deliver them
from the power of their enemies. He had been working powerfully by the
hand of one whom they knew not, nor recognized, as their anointed
king, but whose moral grace might well attract every heart.
But amidst the many thousands who beheld the victory, we read of one
whose soul was drawn forth in ardent affection for the victor. The
most thoughtless must have been struck with admiration of the victory;
and, no doubt, it affected individuals differently. At such times, in
a certain sense, "the thoughts of many hearts are revealed." Some
would envy, some would admire; some would rest in the victory; some in
the instrument; some would have their hearts drawn up to "the God of
the armies of Israel" who had again come amongst them with a drawn
sword in His hand. But there was one devoted heart who was powerfully
attracted to _the person_ of the conqueror, and this was Jonathan.
"And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul,
that _the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David_, and
Jonathan loved him as his own soul" (Chap. xviii. 1.) No doubt
Jonathan participated most fully in the joy of all in the triumph of
David; but there was more than this in it; it was not merely the
triumph, but the person of the triumphant one that drew out the deep
and ardent affections of Jonathan's soul. Saul might selfishly seek to
retain the valiant David about his person, not because of love for his
person, but simply to magnify himself. Not so Jonathan; he _loved_
David. David had removed a load from his spirit, and filled up a great
blank in his heart. The challenge of the giant had, as it was each day
repeated, developed the poverty of Israel. The eye might have ranged
up and down the ranks in search of one able to meet the urgent need,
but in vain. As the giant's vaunting words fell on their ears, "_all_
the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him, and were sore
afraid." "All"; yes; all fled, when they heard his words, and saw his
size. Terrible was the blank, therefore, left in the heart on this
solemn occasion; and when a beloved one appeared to fill up that
blank, what wonder that Jonathan's whole soul was drawn out in genuine
affection for that one. And be it remembered, that it was David
himself, and not his work only, that touched Jonathan's heart. He
admired his victory surely, but his person more. It is well to note
this, and trace its striking application to the true David.
That we are warranted in making such application will, surely, not be
questioned. The whole scene, from first to last, is too remarkable to
admit of a question. In Goliath we behold the power of the enemy by
which he held the soul in grievous bondage. From this power there was
no means of deliverance within human reach. The challenge might be
repeated from day to day--but all in vain. From age to age might the
solemn verdict be heard throughout the myriads of Adam's fallen
posterity, "It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the
judgment;" and the only response which man could yield was, like
Israel's response in the valley of Elah, dismay--deep, deep dismay.
"Through fear of death, all our lifetime subject to bondage." This was
man's response. The need was felt--the void unfilled. The human heart
yearned for something, and yearned in vain. The claims of justice
could not be met--death and judgment frowned in the distance, and man
could only tremble at the prospect. But, blessed be the God of all
grace, a deliverer has appeared--One mighty to save, the Son of God,
the true David, the Anointed King of Israel and of all the earth. He
has met the need, filled up the blank, satisfied the yearnings of the
heart. But how? where? when? By His death on Calvary, in that terrible
hour when all creation was made to feel the solemn reality of what was
being transacted. Yes, my reader, the cross was the field where the
battle was fought, and the victory won. There it was that the strong
man had all his armor taken from him, and his house spoiled. There,
justice had its utmost claims fully satisfied; there, the handwriting
of ordinances, which was against us, was nailed to the tree. There,
too, the curse of a broken law was forever obliterated by the blood of
the Lamb, and the needs of a guilty conscience satisfied by the same.
"The precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and
without spot," settled everything for the believing soul. The poor
trembling sinner may stand by and behold the conflict, and the
glorious issue thereof, and behold all the power of the enemy laid low
by one stroke of his glorious Deliverer, and feel the heavy burden
rolled away from his struggling spirit. The tide of divine peace and
joy may flow into his soul, and he may walk abroad in the full power
of the emancipation purchased for him by the blood, and proclaimed to
him in the gospel.
And shall not one thus delivered love _the Person_ of the
deliverer?--not merely the work, but the Person? Ah! how can it be
otherwise? Who that has felt the real depth of his need, and groaned
beneath the burden of his sins, can fail to love and adore that
gracious One who has satisfied the one and removed the other? The work
of Jesus is infinitely precious; it meets the sinner's need, and
introduces the soul into a position in which it can contemplate the
person of Christ. In a word, then, the _work_ of the Saviour is for
the _sinner_; the _person_ of the Saviour is for the saint: what He
has _done_, is for the former; what He _is_, is for the latter.
But there may be a mere formal following of Christ while the heart is
cold and remains unacquainted with His person. In the 6th chapter of
John, we find a multitude of persons following the Lord Jesus merely
on selfish grounds, and He is constrained to tell them so: "Verily,
verily, I say unto you, Ye seek Me, not because ye saw the miracles,
but because ye did eat of the loaves, and were filled." It was not for
what He _was_ they were seeking Him, but for mere carnal advantage;
and hence, when He applies to their hearts the searching statement,
"Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink His blood, there
is no life in you," we read, "Many of His disciples went back, and
walked no more with Him." Now, eating His flesh, and drinking His
blood, is, in other words, the soul finding its food, its
satisfaction, in the offering of Himself in sacrifice for us. The
whole gospel of John is a development of the personal glory of the
Incarnate Word who is presented to us as "the Lamb of God which taketh
away the sin of the world." Yet the natural heart could not receive
Him thus, and, therefore, "many went back, and walked no more with
Him." The majority could not bear to have this truth pressed upon
them. But harken to the testimony of one taught of God: "Peter
answered and said, Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of
eternal life; and we believe and are sure that Thou art the Christ,
the Son of the living God." Here we have the two things, viz.: what He
_had_ for them, what He _was_ to them. He had eternal life to give,
and He was the Son of the living God; by the former, the sinner is
drawn to Him; by the latter, the saint is bound to Him. He not only
meets all our necessities as sinners by His work, but also satisfies
our affections and desires as saints by His person.
This train of thought has been suggested by the deeply interesting and
touching interview between David and Jonathan, when the conflict was
over. The many thousands of Israel had raised the shout of triumph,
and pursued the Philistines to reap the fruits of victory, while
Jonathan was delighting himself in the person of the victor. "And
Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it
to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to
his girdle." This was love, pure, simple, unaffected love--undivided
occupation with an attractive object. Love strips itself for the sake
of its object. David had forgotten himself and put his life in
jeopardy for God and the congregation, and now Jonathan would forget
himself for David.
Reader, let us remember that love to Jesus is the spring of true
Christianity. Love to Jesus makes us strip ourselves; and, we may say,
that to strip self to honor Jesus is the fairest fruit of the work of
God in the soul.
"Talk they of morals? O Thou bleeding Lamb,
The great morality is love to Thee."
Very different were the feelings with which Saul regarded the person
and work of David. He had not learnt to forget himself and rejoice to
see the work done by another. It is the work of grace to be able to do
this. We all naturally like to be or to do something--to be looked at
and thought of. Thus it was with Saul; he was a self-important man,
and was, therefore, little able to bear the songs of the maids of
Israel: "Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands."
Saul could not brook the idea of being second. He forgot how he had
trembled at the voice of Goliath; though cowardly he would fain be
counted brave and valiant. "And Saul eyed David from that day and
forward." Terrible eye!--the eye of envy and bitter jealousy.
We shall have occasion to trace the development both of Jonathan's
love and Saul's hatred, as we proceed in this work, and must now trace
the man of faith through other scenes.
NOTE.--It requires a very simple heart and single eye to be able to
rejoice as unfeignedly in the fruit of another's labors as in that of
our own hands. Had the glory of God and the good of His people filled
Saul's heart, he would not have spent a thought upon the question as
to the numbers attributed to him or to David. Alas, he sought his own
glory. This was the secret of his envy and jealousy. Oh, what sacred
rest, what true elevation, what perfect quietness of spirit flows from
self-renunciation, such self-renunciation as results from having the
heart wholly occupied with Christ! When we are honestly seeking the
promotion of Christ's glory we shall not be careful as to the
instrument.