THE CARRION AND THE VULTURES

'Wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be

gathered together.'--MATT. xxiv. 28.

This grim parable has, of course, a strong Eastern colouring. It is

best appreciated by dwellers in those lands. They tell us that no

sooner is some sickly animal dead, or some piece of carrion thrown

out by the way, than the vultures--for the eagle does not prey upon

carrion--appear. There may not have been one visible a moment before

in the hot blue sky, but, taught by scent or by sight that their

banquet is prepared, they come flocking from all corners of the

heavens, a hideous crowd round their hideous meal, fighting with

flapping wings and tearing it with their strong talons. And so, says

Christ, wherever there is a rotting, dead society, a carcase

hopelessly corrupt and evil, down upon it, as if drawn by some

unerring attraction, will come the angels, the vultures of the

divine judgment.

The words of my text were spoken, according to the version of them

in Luke's Gospel, in answer to a question from the disciples. Our

Lord had been discoursing, in very solemn words, which, starting

from the historical event of the impending fall of Jerusalem, had

gradually passed into a description of the greater event of His

second coming. And all these solemn warnings had stirred nothing

deeper in the bosoms of the disciples than a tepid and idle

curiosity which expressed itself in the one almost irrelevant

question, 'Where, Lord?' He answers--Not here, not there, but

everywhere where there is a carcase. The great event which is

referred to in our Lord's solemn words is a future judgment, which

is to be universal. But the words are not exhausted in their

reference to that event. There have been many 'comings of the Lord,'

many 'days of the Lord,' which on a smaller scale have embodied the

same principles as are to be displayed in world-wide splendour and

awfulness at the last.

I. The first thing, then, in these most true and solemn words is

this, that they are to us a revelation of a law which operates with

unerring certainty through all the course of the world's history.

We cannot tell, but God can, when evil has become incurable; or

when, in the language of my text, the mass of any community has

become a carcase. There may be flickerings of life, all unseen by

our eyes, or there may be death, all unsuspected by our shallow

vision. So long as there is a possibility of amendment, 'sentence

against an evil work is not executed speedily'; and God dams back,

as it were, the flow of His retributive judgment, 'not willing that

any should perish, but that all should come to the knowledge of the

truth.' But when He sees that all is vain, that no longer is

restoration or recovery possible, then He lets loose the flood; or,

in the language of my text, when the thing has become a carcase,

then the vultures, God's scavengers, come and clear it away from off

the face of the earth.

Now that is the law that has been working from the beginning,

working as well in regard to the long delays as in regard to the

swift execution. There is another metaphor, in the Old Testament,

that puts the same idea in a very striking form. It speaks about

God's 'awakening,' as if His judgment slumbered. All round that dial

the hand goes creeping, creeping, creeping slowly, but when it comes

to the appointed line, then the bell strikes. And so years and

centuries go by, all chance of recovery departs, and then the crash!

The ice palace, built upon the frozen blocks, stands for a while,

but when the spring thaws come, it breaks up.

Let me remind you of some instances and illustrations. Take that

story which people stumble over in the early part of the Old

Testament revelation--the sweeping away of those Canaanitish nations

whose hideous immoralities had turned the land into a perfect sty of

abominations. There they had been wallowing, and God's Spirit, which

strives with men ever and always, had been striving with them, we

know not for how long, but when the time came at which, according to

the grim metaphor of the Old Testament, 'the measure of their

iniquity was full,' then He hurled upon them the fierce hosts out of

the desert, and in a whirlwind of fire and sword swept them off the

face of the earth.

Take another illustration. These very people, who had been the

executioners of divine judgment, settled in the land, fell into the

snare--and you know the story. The captivities of Israel and Judah

were other illustrations of the same thing. The fall of Jerusalem,

to which our Lord pointed in the solemn context of these words, was

another. For millenniums God had been pleading with them, sending

His prophets, rising early and sending, saying, 'Oh, do not do this

abominable thing which I hate!' 'And last of all He sent His Son.'

Christ being rejected, God had shot His last bolt. He had no more

that He could do. Christ being refused, the nation's doom was fixed

and sealed, and down came the eagles of Rome, again God's scavengers,

to sweep away the nation on which had been lavished such wealth of

divine love, but which had now come to be a rotting abomination,

and to this day remains in a living death, a miraculously preserved

monument of God's Judgments.

Take another illustration how, once more, the executants of the law

fall under its power. That nation which crushed the feeble resources

of Judaea, as a giant might crush a mosquito in his grasp, in its

turn became honeycombed with abominations and immoralities; and then

down from the frozen north came the fierce Gothic tribes over the

Roman territory. One of their captains called himself the 'Scourge

of God,' and he was right. Another swooping down of the vultures

flashed from the blue heavens, and the carrion was torn to fragments

by their strong beaks.

Take one more illustration--that French Revolution at the end of the

eighteenth century. The fathers sowed the wind, and the children

reaped the whirlwind. Generations of heartless luxury, selfishness,

carelessness of the cry of the poor, immoral separation of class

from class, and all the sins which a ruling caste could commit

against a subject people, had prepared for the convulsion. Then, in

a carnival of blood and deluges of fire and sulphur, the rotten

thing was swept off the face of the earth, and the world breathed

more freely for its destruction.

Take another illustration, through which many of us have lived. The

bitter legacy of negro slavery that England gave to her giant son

across the Atlantic, which blasted and sucked the strength out of

that great republic, went down amidst universal execration. It took

centuries for the corpse to be ready, but when the vultures came

they made quick work of it.

And so, as I say, all over the world, and from the beginning of

time, with delays according to the possibilities of restoration and

recovery which the divine eye discerns, this law is working. Verily

there is a God that judgeth in the earth. 'The wheels of God grind

slowly, but they grind exceeding small.' 'Wheresoever the carcase

is, there will the eagles be gathered together.'

And has the law exhausted its force? Are there going to be no more

applications of it? Are there no European societies at this day that

in their godlessness and social iniquities are hurrying fast to the

condition of carrion? Look around us--drunkenness, sensual

immorality, commercial dishonesty, senseless luxury amongst the

rich, heartless indifference to the wail of the poor, godlessness

over all classes and ranks of the community. Surely, surely, if the

body politic be not dead, it is sick nigh unto death. And I, for my

part, have little hesitation in saying that as far as one can see,

European society is driving as fast as it can, with its godlessness

and immorality, to such another 'day of the Lord' as these words of

my text suggest. Let us see to it that we do our little part to be

the 'salt of the earth' which shall keep it from rotting, and so

drive away the vultures of judgment.

II. But let me turn to another point. We have here a law which is to

have a far more tremendous accomplishment in the future.

There have been many comings of the Lord, many days of the Lord,

when, as Isaiah says in his magnificent vision of one such, 'the

loftiness of man has been bowed down, and the haughtiness of man

made low, and the Lord alone exalted in that day when He arises to

shake terribly the earth. And all these 'days of the Lord' are

prophecies, and distinctly point to a future 'day' when the same

principles which have been disclosed as working on a small scale in

them, shall be manifested in full embodiment. These 'days of the

Lord' proclaim '_the_ day of the Lord.' In the prophecies both

of the Old and New Testaments that universal future judgment is seen

glimmering through the descriptions of the nearer partial judgments.

So interpreters are puzzled to say at what point in a prophecy the

transition is made from the smaller to the greater. The prophecies

are like the diagrams in treatises on perspective, in which

diverging lines are drawn from the eye, enclosing a square or other

figure, and which, as they recede further from the point of view,

enclose a figure, the same in shape but of greater dimensions. There

is a historical event foretold, the fall of Jerusalem. It is close

up to the eyes of the disciples, and is comparatively small. Carry

out the lines that touch its corners and define its shape, and upon

the far distant curtain of the dim future there is thrown a like

figure immensely larger, the coming of Jesus Christ to judge the

world. All these little premonitions and foretastes and anticipatory

specimens point onwards to the assured termination of the world's

history in that great and solemn day, when all men shall be gathered

before Christ's throne, and He shall judge all nations--judge you

and me amongst the rest. That future judgment is distinctly a part

of the Christian revelation. Jesus Christ is to come in bodily form

as He went away. All men are to be judged by Him. That judgment is

to be the destruction of opposing forces, the sweeping away of the

carrion of moral evil.

It is therefore distinctly a part of the message that is to be

preached by us, under penalty of the awful condemnation pronounced

on the watchman who seeth the sword coming and gives no warning. It

is not becoming to make such a solemn message the opportunity for

pictorial rhetoric, which vulgarises its greatness and weakens its

power. But it is worse than an offence against taste; it is

unfaithfulness to the preaching which God bids us, treason to our

King, and cruelty to our hearers, to suppress the warning--'The day

of the Lord cometh.' There are many temptations to put it in the

background. Many of you do not want that kind of preaching. You want

the gentle side of divine revelation. You say to us in fact, though

not in words. 'Prophesy to us smooth things. Tell us about the

infinite love which wraps all mankind in its embrace. Speak to us of

the Father God, who "hateth nothing that He hath made." Magnify the

mercy and gentleness and tenderness of Christ. Do not say anything

about that other side. It is not in accordance with the tendencies

of modern thought.'

So much the worse, then, for the tendencies of modern thought. I

yield to no man in the ardour of my belief that the centre of all

revelation is the revelation of a God of infinite love, but I cannot

forget that there is such a thing as 'the terror of the Lord,' and I

dare not disguise my conviction that no preaching sounds every

string in the manifold harp of God's truth, which does not strike

that solemn note of warning of judgment to come.

Such suppression is unfaithfulness. Surely, if we preachers believe

that tremendous truth, we are bound to speak. It is cruel kindness

to be silent. If a traveller is about to plunge into some gloomy

jungle infested by wild beasts, he is a friend who sits by the

wayside to warn him of his danger. Surely you would not call a

signalman unfeeling because he held out a red lamp when he knew that

just round the curve beyond his cabin the rails were up, and that

any train that reached the place would go over in horrid ruin.

Surely that preaching is not justly charged with harshness which

rings out the wholesome proclamation of a day of judgment, when we

shall each give account of ourselves to the divine-human Judge.

Such suppression weakens the power of the Gospel, which is the

proclamation of deliverance, not only from the power, but also from

the future retribution of sin. In such a maimed gospel there is but

an enfeebled meaning given to that idea of deliverance. And though

the thing that breaks the heart and draws men to God is not terror,

but love, the terror must often be evoked in order to lead to love.

It is only 'judgment to come' which will make Felix tremble, and

though his trembling may pass away, and he be none the nearer the

kingdom, there will never any good be done to him unless he does

tremble. So, for all these reasons, all faithful preaching of

Christ's Gospel must include the proclamation of Christ as Judge.

But, if I should be unfaithful, if I did not preach this truth, what

shall we call you if you turn away from it? You would not think it a

wise thing of the engine-driver to shut his eyes if the red lamp

were shown, and to go along at full speed and to pay no heed to

that? Do you think it would be right for a Christian minister to

lock his lips and never say, 'There is a judgment to come'? And do

you think it is wise of you not to think of that, and to shape your

conduct accordingly?

Oh, dear friends! I do not doubt that the centre of all divine

revelation is the love of God, nor do I doubt that incomparably the

highest representation of the power of Christ's Gospel is that it

draws men away from the love and the practice of evil, and makes

them pure and holy. But that is not all. There is not only the

practice and the power of sin to be fought against, but there is the

penalty of sin to be taken into account; and as sure as you are

living, and as sure as there is a God above us, so sure is it that

there is a Day of Judgment, when 'He will judge the world in

righteousness by the Man whom He hath ordained.' The believing of

that is not salvation, but the belief of that seems to me to be

indispensable for any vigorous grasp of the delivering love of God

in Jesus Christ our Lord.

III. And so the last thing that I have to say is that this is a law

which need never touch you, nor you know anything about but by the

hearing of the ear.

It is told us that we may escape it. When Paul reasoned of

righteousness, and temperance, and judgment to come, his hearer

trembled as he listened, but there was an end. But the true effect

of this message is the effect that Paul himself attached to it when

he said in the hearing of Athenian wisdom, 'God hath commanded all

men everywhere _to repent_, because He hath appointed a day in

the which He will judge the world in righteousness.' Judgment

faithfully preached is the preparation for preaching that 'there is

no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.' If we trust in

that great Saviour, we shall be quickened from the death of sin, and

so shall not be food for the vultures of judgment. Can these corpses

live? Can this eating putrescence, which burrows its foul way

through our souls, be sweetened? Is there any antiseptic for it?

Yes, blessed be God, and the hand whose touch healed the leper will

heal us, and 'our flesh will come again as the flesh of a little

child.' Christ has bared His breast to the divine judgments against

sin, and if by faith we shelter ourselves in Him, we shall never

know the terrors of that awful day.

Be sure that judgment to come is no mere figure dressed up to

frighten children, nor the product of blind superstition, but that

it is the inevitable issue of the righteousness of the All-ruling

God. You and I and all the sons of men have to face it. 'Herein is

our love made perfect, that we may have boldness before Him in the

Day of Judgment.' Betake yourselves, as poor sinful creatures who

know something of the corruption of your own hearts, to that dear

Christ who has died on the Cross for you, and all that is obnoxious

to the divine judgments will, by His transforming life breathed into

you, be taken out of your hearts; and when that 'day of the Lord'

shall dawn, you, trusting in the sacrifice of Him who is your Judge,

will 'have a song as when a holy solemnity is kept.' Take Christ for

your Saviour, and then, when the vultures of judgment, with their

mighty black pinions, are wheeling and circling in the sky, ready to

pounce upon their prey, He will gather you 'as a hen gathereth her

chickens under her wings,' and beneath their shadow you will be

safe.

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