Still continues the praise of "wisdom." For if, as the last verses of
the previous chapters have shown, there be but very few that walk in
her paths, she necessarily lifts those few far above the thoughtless
mass of men; placing her distinguishing touch even on the features of
her disciples, lighting them up with intelligence, and taking away the
rudeness and pride that may be natural to them.
"Man's wisdom lighteth up his face--its aspect stern is changed."
If this, then, the result, listen to her counsels: "Honor the king,"
nor be connected with any conspiracy against him. It is true that
authorities are as much "out of joint" as everything else under the
sun; and instead of being practically "ministers of God for good," are
but too often causes of further misery upon poor man; yet wisdom
teaches to wait and watch. Everything has a time and season; and
instead of seeking to put matters right by conspiracy, await the turn
of the wheel; for this is most sure, that nothing is absolutely
permanent here--the evil of a tyrant's life any more than good. His
power shall not release him from paying the debt of nature; it helps
him not to retain his spirit.
This too I saw,--'twas when I gave my heart
To every work that's done beneath the sun,--
That there's a time when man rules over man to his own hurt.
'Twas when I saw the wicked dead interred,
And to and from the holy place (men) came and went.
Then straight were they forgotten in the city of their deeds.
Ah, this was vanity!
Thus our Preacher describes the end of the tyrant. Death ends his
tyranny, as it does, for the time being at least, the misery of those
who were under it. Men follow him to his burial, to the holy place,
return to their usual avocations--all is over and forgotten. The
splendor and power of monarchy now show their hollowness and vanity by
so quickly disappearing, and even their memory vanishing, at the touch
of death. And yet this retributive end is by no means speedy in every
case. Sentence is often deferred, and the delay emboldens the heart of
man to further wickedness. Still, he says, "I counsel to fear God,
irrespective of present appearances. I am assured this is the better
part: fear God, and, soon or late, the end will justify thy choice."
Beautiful and interesting it is thus to see man's unaided reason, his
own intelligence, carrying him to this conclusion: that there is
nothing better than to "fear God;" and surely this approves itself to
any intelligence. He has impressed the proofs of His glorious Being on
every side of His creature, man. "Day unto day uttereth speech;" and
the Sun, that rejoiceth as a strong man to run his race, voices aloud,
in his wondrous adaptations to the needs of this creation on which he
shines, His Being--His eternal power and godhead. Not only light but
warmth he brings, for "there is nothing hid from the heat thereof," and
in this twofold benevolence testifies again to his Creator, who is Love
and Light. Further, wherever he shines he manifests infinite
testimonies to the same truth. From the tiny insect that balances or
disports itself with the joy of life in his beams, to the grandeur of
the everlasting hills, or the majesty of the broad flood of
ocean--all--all--with no dissentient, discordant voice, proclaim His
being and utter His creative glory. Nor does darkness necessarily veil
that glory: moon and stars take up the grand and holy strain; and what
man can look at all--have all these witnesses reiterating day and
night, with ever-fresh testimonies every season, the same refrain,
"The Hand that made us is divine,"
and yet say, even in His heart, "There is no God!" Surely all reason,
all wisdom, human or divine, says "Fool!" to such.
Thus, step by step, human wisdom treads on, and, as here, in her most
worthy representative, "the king," concludes that it is most reasonable
to give that glorious Creator the reverence due, and to "fear" Him.
But soon, very soon, poor reason has to stop, confounded. Something
has come into the scene that throws her all astray: verse 14--
"'Tis vanity, what's done upon the earth; for so it is,
That there are righteous to whom it haps as to the vile;
And sinners, too, whose lot is like the doings of the just.
For surely this is vanity, I said."
Yes, man's soul must be, if left to the light of nature, like that
nature itself. If the sky be ever and always cloudless, then may a
calm and unbroken faith be expected, when based on things seen. But it
is not so. Storm and cloud again and again darken the light of nature,
whether that light be physical or moral; and under these storms and
clouds reason is swayed from her highest and best conclusions; and the
contradictions without, are faithfully reflected within the soul.
"And so I commended mirth, because a man hath no better thing under the
sun, than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry: for that shall abide
with him of his labor the days of his life, which God giveth him under
the sun." Here we get the heralds of a storm indeed. They are the
first big drops that bespeak the coming flood that shall sweep our
writer from all reason's moorings; the play of a lightning that shall
blind man's wisdom to its own light; the sigh of a wind that soon shall
develop into a very blast of despair.
What a contradiction to the previous sober conclusion, "It shall be
well with them that fear God"! Now, seeing that there is no apparent
justice in the allotment of happiness here, and the fear of God is
often followed by sorrow, while the lawless as often have the easy
lot,--looking on this scene, I say, "Eat, drink, and be merry;" get
what good you can out of life itself; for all is one inextricable
confusion.
Oh, this awful tangle of providences! Everything is wrong! All is in
confusion! There is law everywhere, and yet law-breaking everywhere.
How is it? Why is it? Is not God the source of order and harmony?
Whence, then, the discord? Is it all His retributive justice against
sin? Why, then, the thoroughly unequal allotment? Here is a man born
blind. Surely this cannot be because he sinned before his birth! But,
then, is it on account of his parents' sinning? Why, then, do the
guilty go comparatively free, and the guiltless suffer? Sin, surely,
is the only cause of the infliction. So the disciples of old, brought
face to face with exactly this same riddle, the same mystery, ask,
"Master, who did sin--this man, or his parents, that he was born
blind?" "Neither." Another--higher, happier, more glorious reason,
Jesus gives: "Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that
the works of God should be made manifest in him." So the afflicted
parents weep over their sightless babe; so they nurse him through his
helpless, darkened childhood, or guide him through his lonely youth,
their hearts sorely tempted surely to rebel against the providence that
has robbed their offspring of the light of heaven. Neighbors, too, can
give but little comfort here. Why was he born blind? Who did _the
sin_ that brought this evident punishment?
Oh wait, sorrowing parents! wait, foolish friends! One is even now on
His glorious way who shall with a word unravel the mystery, ease your
troubled hearts, quell each rebellious motion, till ye only sorrow that
ever a disloyal thought of the God of Love and Light has been
permitted; and, whilst overwhelming you with blessing, answer every
question your hearts--nay, even your intelligences--could ask.
Oh wait, my beloved readers, wait! We, too, look on a world still all
in confusion. Nay, ourselves suffer with many an afflictive stroke,
whose cause, too, seems hidden from us, and to contradict the very
character of the God we know. One only is worthy to unlock this, as
every other, sealed book--wait! He must make Himself known; _and,
apart from things being wrong, this were impossible_. "The works of
God must be made manifest." Precious thought! Blessed words!
Sightless eyes are allowed for a little season, that He--God--may
manifest _His_ work in giving them light--accompanied by an everlasting
light that knows no dimming. Tears may fall in time, that God's gentle
and tender touch may dry them, and that for ever and ever. Nay, Death
himself, with all his awful powers shall be made to serve the same end,
and, a captive foe, be compelled to utter forth His glory. Lazarus is
suffering, and the sisters are torn with anxiety; but the Lord abides
"two days still in the same place where he" is. Death is allowed to
have his way for a little space--nay, grasp his victim, and shadow with
his dark wing the home that Jesus loves; and still He moves not.
Strange, mysterious patience! Does He not care? Is He calmly
indifferent to the anguish in that far-off cottage? Has He forgotten
to be gracious? or, most agonizing question of all, Has some inmate of
that home sinned, and chilled thus His love? How questions throng at
such a time! But--patience! All shall be answered, every question
settled--every one; and the glorious end shall fully, perfectly justify
His "waiting."
Let Death have his way. The power and dignity of his Conqueror will
not permit Him to hasten. For haste would bespeak anxiety as to the
result; and that result is in no sense doubtful. The body of the
brother shall even see corruption, and begin to crumble into dust,
under the firm and crushing hand of Death. Many a tear shall the
sisters shed, and poor human sympathy tell out its helplessness. But
the Victor comes! In the calm of assured victory He comes. And the
"express image of the substance" of the Living God stands face to face
as Man with our awful foe, Death. And lo, He speaks but a
word--"Lazarus, come forth!"--and the glory of God shines forth with
exceeding brightness and beauty! Oh, joyous scene! oh, bright figure
of that morn, so soon approaching, when once again that blessed Voice
shall lift itself up in a "shout," that shall be heard, not in one, but
in every tomb of His people, and once more the glory of God shall so
shine in the ranks upon ranks of those myriads, that all shall again
fully justify His "waiting"!
It was indeed a blessed light that shone into the grave of Lazarus.
Such was its glory, that our spirits may quietly rest forever; for we
see our Lord and Eternal Lover is Conqueror and Lord of Death. Nor
need we ask, with our modern poet, who sings sweetly, but too much in
the spirit of Ecclesiastes,
Where wert thou, brother, those four days?
There lives no record of reply,
Which, telling what it is to die,
Had surely added praise to praise.
The resurrection of Lazarus does tell us what it is
for His redeemed to die. It tells that it is but a sleep for the body,
till He come to awaken it,--that those who thus sleep are not beyond
His power, and that a glorious resurrection shall soon "add praise to
praise" indeed.
But do not these blessed words give us a hint, at least, of the answer
to that most perplexing of all questions, Why was evil ever permitted
to disturb the harmony and mar the beauty of God's primal creation,
defile heaven itself, fill earth with corruption and violence, and
still exist even in eternity? Ah, we tread on ground here where we
need to be completely self-distrustful, and to cleave with absolute
confidence and dependence to the revelation of Himself!
The works of God must be manifested; and He is Light and Love, and
nothing but Light and Love. Every work of His, then, must speak the
source whence it comes, and be an expression of Light or Love; and the
end, when He shall again--finding everything very good--rest from His
work to enjoy that eternal sabbath, never to be broken, shall shew
forth absolutely in heaven, in earth, and in hell, that He is Light and
Love, and nothing but that.
Light and Love!--blending, harmonizing, in perfect equal manifestation,
in the cross of the Lord Jesus, and--Light now approving Love's
activity--in the righteous eternal redemption of all who believe on
Him; banishing from the new creation every trace of sin, and its
companion, sorrow; whilst the Lake of Fire itself shall prove the
necessity of its own existence to display that same nature of God, and
naught else--Love then approving the activity of Light, as we may say.
As Isaiah shows, in the millennial earth, in those
"Scenes surpassing fable, and yet true--
Scenes of accomplished bliss"--
there is still sorrowful necessity for an everlasting memorial of His
righteousness in "the carcases of those men that have transgressed
against me: for their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be
quenched; and (mark well the _sympathies_ of that scene) they shall be
an abhorring to all flesh." Love rejected, mercy neglected, truth
despised, or held in unrighteousness, grace slighted,--nothing is left
whereby the finally impenitent can justify their creation except in
being everlasting testimonies to that side of God's nature, "Light,"
whilst "Love," and all who are in harmony therewith, unfeignedly
_approve_. All shall be right. None shall then be perplexed because
"there be just men, unto whom it happeneth according to the work of the
wicked; again, there be wicked men to whom it happeneth according to
the work of the righteous." All shall be absolutely right. No whisper
shall be heard, even in hell itself, of the charges that men so boldly
and blasphemously cast at His holy name now.
God is all in all. His works are manifested; and whilst it is His
strange work, yet Judgment _is_ His work, as every age in Time has
shown; as the Eternal age, too, shall show--in time, this judgment is
necessarily temporal; in eternity, where character, as all else, is
fixed, it must as necessarily be _eternal_!
Solemn, and perhaps unwelcome, but wholesome theme! We live in a time
peculiarly characterized by a lack of reverence for _all_ authority.
It is the spirit of the times, and against that spirit the saint must
ever watch and guard himself by meditation on these solemn truths.
Fear is a godly sentiment, a just emotion, in view of the holy
character of our God. "I will forewarn whom ye shall fear," said the
Lord Jesus: "Fear him which, after he hath killed, hath power to cast
into hell; yea, I say unto you, fear him." The first Christians,
walking in _the fear of the Lord_ as well as the comfort of the Holy
Ghost, were multiplied; and when Annanias and Sapphira fell under God's
judgment, great _fear_ came on all the _church_; whilst apostasy is
marked by men feeding, themselves without fear.
All shall be "_right_." It is the wrong and disorder and unrighteous
allotment prevailing here that caused the groans of our writer. Let us
listen to them. Their doleful, despairing sound shall again add
sweeter tone to the lovely music of God's revelation, speaking, as it
does, of One who solves every mystery, answers every question, heals
every hurt; yea, snatches His own from the very grasp of Death; for all
is _right_, for all is _light_, where Jesus is, and He is coming.
Patience! Wait!