True to his Post.
Lot's wife was changed into a pillar of salt; and if that pillar still
remained, we should see her to-day standing in exactly the same attitude
in which she was standing when death suddenly came upon her.
About a hundred years ago, a baker in the south of Italy sunk a well in
his garden; and whilst doing so he suddenly came upon a buried city, a
city which had been lost to the world for 1800 years. The underground
city was no empty place; it was peopled with the dead, and these were
found in the very attitude and position in which death had overtaken
them, standing, sitting, lying, just as they had been on that awful day
when Mount Vesuvius sent out terrible showers of ashes, destroying them
all.
Very various were the positions of the dead in that buried city. Many
were in the streets, in the attitude of running, trying to make their
escape from the city gate; others were in deep vaults whither they had
gone for safety, crouching, in their fear of what might fall upon them;
others were on staircases and flights of stone steps leading to the
roof, in the attitude of climbing to a place where they hoped the lava
might not bury them. Two men were found by the garden gate of a large
and beautiful mansion. One was standing with the key in his hand, a
handsome ring on his finger, and a hundred gold and silver coins
scattered round him. The other, who was probably his slave, was
stretched on the ground, with his hands clutching some silver cups and
vases. These men had evidently been suffocated whilst trying to carry
off the money and treasure.
But one man in that buried city deserves to be remembered to the end of
time. Who was he? One Roman soldier, the brave sentinel at the gate.
There he had been posted in the morning, and there he had been bidden to
remain.
And how was he found? Standing at his post, with his hand still grasping
his sword, faithful unto death. There, by the city gate; whilst the
earth shook and rocked, whilst the sky was black with ashes, whilst
showers of stones were falling around him, and whilst hundreds of men,
women and children brushed past him as they fled in terror from the
city, there he stood, firm and unmoved. Should such a man as I flee?
thought the sentinel. And in that same spot, in that post of duty, he
was found 1800 years after, faithful to his trust, faithful unto death.
Oh, that the Lord's soldiers were more like that brave man in Pompeii!
It is so easy to begin a thing, so hard to stick to it; so easy to start
on the Christian course, so difficult to persevere; so easy to enlist in
the army, so very hard to stand unmoved in the time of danger or trial.
Yet what says the Master? He that endureth to the end (and he alone)
shall be saved. What says the Captain? chat it is the soldier who is
faithful unto death (and no one else) who shall receive the crown of
life.
Who then amongst us are faithful, true and unmoved? Who amongst us
can stand firm in spite of Satan's efforts to lead us aside? Who
can hold on, not for a week only, but still faithful as the weeks
change into months, and the months into years, faithful unto death?
About 100 years before the time of Nehemiah, there lived a wise old
Chinaman, the philosopher Confucius. Looking round upon his fellow-men,
Confucius said that he noticed that a large proportion of them were
'Copper-kettle-boiling-water men.' The water in a copper kettle, said
Confucius, boils very quickly, much more quickly than in an iron kettle;
but the worst of it is that it just as quickly cools down, and ceases to
boil.
So, said Confucius, is it with numbers of my fellow-men: they are one
day hot and eager, boiling over with zeal in some particular cause; but
the next day they have cooled down, and they take no interest in it
whatever. Soon up, soon down, like the water in a copper kettle.
Just so is it in the service of God. There are, sad to say, many
copper-kettle-boiling-water Christians, hot and earnest in the work of
God one moment, but in the next they have cooled down, and are ready to
leave the work to take care of itself.
But Nehemiah was no copper-kettle-boiling-water man, he comes before us
as a man faithful to his post, standing firm to his duty, a man whom no
one could draw from his work, or cause to swerve from what he knew to be
right.
The Samaritans have made a mighty effort to stop Nehemiah's great work,
the building of the walls of Jerusalem. They began with ridicule; but
the builders took no notice of the shouts of laughter, but built on as
before. Then they tried to stop the work by force; but they found the
whole company of builders changed, as by a magic wand, into an army of
soldiers, ready and waiting for their attack. Now the news reaches them,
chap. vi. 1., that the walls are progressing, that the gaps are filled
up, the different pieces are joined together, and that nothing now
remains but to put up the gates in the various gateways.
They feel accordingly that no time is to be lost; they must, in some way
or other, put a stop to Nehemiah and his work at once. They determine,
therefore, to try a new plan, they will entrap Nehemiah by stratagem and
deceit. So they send an invitation to Jerusalem, begging him to meet
them in a certain place, that there they may settle their differences by
a friendly conference.
Sanballat is to be there as the head of the Samaritans, Geshem as the
head of the Arabians, and Nehemiah as the head of the Jews; and surely,
meeting in a friendly way, and embued with a friendly spirit, nothing
will be easier than quietly and peacefully to confer together, and then
to arrange matters in a comfortable and satisfactory manner.
The place appointed for the meeting is the Plain of Ono--the green,
beautiful plain between the Judean hills and the Mediterranean--called
elsewhere the Plain of Sharon. There in later days stood Lydda, the
place where St. Peter healed Aeneas; there stood Joppa, from which Jonah
embarked; there, at the present day, may be seen fields of melons and
cucumbers, groves of orange and lemon trees, and fields of waving corn.
Nehemiah would have a journey of about thirty miles before he reached
the appointed meeting-place.
Sanballat's proposal sounded very fine and even very friendly, but it
was a trap. His real desire was to tempt Nehemiah from behind the walls
of Jerusalem, to entice him to a safe distance from his brave friends
and companions, and then to have him secretly assassinated. Who then
would ever hear again of the power of Jerusalem? Who then would ever see
the gates put in their places?
Is Nehemiah moved from his post of duty by Sanballat's message? Does he
leave his work at once, and set off for the Plain of Ono? Look at his
decided answer.
'I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down: why should the
work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to you?'
God's work would be done better, and with more success, if all His
workmen were like Nehemiah. But, alas! many who call themselves workers
for God are ready to run off from the work at every call, every
invitation, every appeal from the world, the flesh, or the devil. I am
doing a great work, but there is that amusement I want to take part in,
the work must be left to-day.
I am doing a great work; but I do not feel inclined for it just now, I
feel idle, or the weather is too cold to go out, or the sun shines so
brightly I should like a walk instead, I must leave my work to others
to-day.
I am doing a great work; but I love my own ease, or pleasure, or
convenience, better than I love the work, these must come first and the
work must come second.
So speak the actions of many so-called workers, and thus it is that so
much Christian work is a dead failure.
But, says Nehemiah, 'I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come
down: why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to
you?'
Let us remember his words, let us inwardly digest them, and the very
next time that we are tempted to give up work for God and to run off to
something else, let us take care to echo them.
But Sanballat is determined not to be beaten, he will try again and yet
again. Four times over he sends Nehemiah a friendly invitation to a
friendly conference, four times over Nehemiah steadily refuses to come.
Then, when that plot completely fails, Sanballat loses his temper.
One day a messenger arrives at the gate of Jerusalem with an insult in
his hand. The insult is in the form of a piece of parchment; it is a
letter from Sanballat, an 'open letter,' ver. 5.
Letters in the East are not put into envelopes, but are rolled up like a
map, then the ends are flattened and pasted together. The Persians make
up their letters in a roll about six inches long, and then gum a piece
of paper round them, and put a seal on the outside. But in writing to
persons of distinction, not only is the letter gummed together, but it
is tied up in several places with coloured ribbon, and then enclosed in
a bag or purse. To send a letter to such a man as Nehemiah, not only
untied and unenclosed, but actually not even having the ends pasted
together, was a tremendous insult, and Nehemiah, who had been
accustomed to the strict etiquette of the Persian court, knew this well.
But Sanballat probably sent this open letter not only with the intention
of insulting Nehemiah, but also in order that every one whom the
messenger came across might read it, and that the Jews in Jerusalem and
its neighbourhood might be frightened by its contents, and might
therefore be inclined to forward his plans.
The letter contained a piece of gossip.
'It is reported among the heathen, and Gashmu saith it.'
So the letter began, and then there followed the scandal, the gossip
about Nehemiah.
People's tongues were busy 2,000 years ago, just as people's tongues are
busy now, and the gossips of those days, like the gossips of to-day,
were not particular about truth.
What was the gossip which Gashmu had started against Nehemiah? It was
this: Jerusalem is being built, we all see that, says Gashmu. But now,
what is at the bottom of this business? Hush! says Gashmu, do not tell
any one, and I will tell you a secret. You would never believe it, you
would never guess it; but what do you think? As soon as those walls are
built and those gates are finished, you will hear news. There is going
to be a king in Jerusalem, and his name is Nehemiah. As soon as ever he
has a strong city in which to defend himself, he is going to rebel
against Persia. Nay, he has already paid people inside Jerusalem to
pretend to be prophets, and to say to the people:
'There is a king in Judah.'
That is the gossip, says Sanballat, that is going the round of all the
gossips' tongues in the land. And now what will be the result? If the
King of Persia hears of it, and it is sure to reach his ears sooner or
later, it will go badly with you, Nehemiah. The best thing you can do is
to consent to meet me, and we will talk the matter over and see what can
be done to prevent this report reaching Persia.
'Come now therefore, and let us take counsel together.'
Nehemiah has stood firm under ridicule; he has been unmoved by force or
deceitful friendships; will he be frightened from his duty by gossip?
No, he cares not what they say, nor who says it. He simply sends
Sanballat word that there is not a vestige of truth in the report, nor
does he intend to take any notice of it.
'There are no such things done as thou sayest, but thou feignest them
out of thine own heart.'
Over the entrance to one of our old English castles these words are
carved in the stonework:--
THEY SAY.
WHAT DO THEY SAY?
LET THEM SAY.
These words are well worth our remembering. It is not pleasant to be
talked about, especially if the words spoken about us are untrue, but it
will be a wonderful thing if any of us escape the gossip's tongue.
_They say_, and they always will _say_, to the end of time; people
will talk, and their talk will chiefly be of their neighbours.
_What do they say?_ Do you answer like the Psalmist, 'They lay to my
charge things I knew not?' They speak unkindly, untruly, unfairly.
Never mind, _Let them say._ You cannot stop their mouths, but you can
hinder yourself from taking notice of their words. Let them say, for
they will have their say out, but they will end it all the sooner if you
take no notice of it.
Let us try for the future to be thick-skinned, and when Gashmu's tongue
is whispering, and whenever some busybody like Sanballat repeats
Gashmu's words to us, let us act as Nehemiah did. Let us take no notice
of the repeated tittle-tattle.
Yet, although we may practically ignore the gossiping tongue, if we are
naturally sensitive and highly strung we cannot help feeling some sting
from the unkind or untrue speech. Poor Nehemiah, unmoved though he was
by the gossip, yet feels it necessary to remember the meaning of his
name, and to turn from Sanballat's letter to 'the Lord my Comforter.'
'O God, strengthen my hands.'
So he cries from the depths of his soul, and so he was comforted.
Sanballat now feels that he is attempting an impossibility. It is of no
use trying himself to move Nehemiah, for Nehemiah is thoroughly on his
guard against him. If he reaches him at all, he must do so through
others, whom Nehemiah does not suspect. So, by means of his gold,
Sanballat tempts some of the Jerusalem Jews over to his side.
There is a woman living in Jerusalem named Noadiah, and she (to her
shame be it spoken) is bribed by Sanballat to give herself out as a
prophetess, and to be the bearer of messages to Nehemiah, pretending
that those messages were sent to him by God. Nor is Noadiah the only
one who is bribed by the Samaritan governor to pretend the gift of
prophecy.
One day, Nehemiah is sent for to the house of one of these people who
profess to be able to prophesy. He is a young man of the name of
Shemaiah, whose family had returned from Babylon with Zerubbabel, but
who had never been able to prove their Jewish descent (vii. 61, 62, 64).
This young man professes to be very fond of Nehemiah, and begs him to
come to see him. Nehemiah does so, and finds him shut up, his doors
barred and bolted, his house barricaded like a fortress. He admits
Nehemiah, and seems, as he does so, to be in a great state of fear and
terror.
Then he whispers a dreadful secret in his ear. He tells Nehemiah that
his life is in immediate danger, that there is a plot set on foot by
Sanballat to murder him that very night, and that this plot has been
revealed to him by God. He tells him that he feels his own life, as one
of Nehemiah's best friends, is also in danger, and therefore he proposes
that they shall go together after dark to the temple courts, and,
passing through these, enter into the sanctuary itself, the Holy Place,
in which stood the altar of incense, the golden candlestick, and the
table of showbread. There, having carefully closed the folding doors of
fir-wood, they may hide till daybreak, and those who were coming to
assassinate Nehemiah will seek him in vain.
Shemaiah gives this advice as a direct message from God, but Nehemiah
saw through it. He felt sure God could not have sent that message, for
God cannot contradict His own Word. And what said the Word? It was
clearly laid down in the law of Moses that no man, unless he was a
priest, might enter the Holy Place; if he attempted to do so, death
would be the penalty.
'The stranger that cometh nigh shall be put to death.' So Nehemiah
bravely answers:
'Should such a man as I flee? and who is there, that, being as I am,
would go into the temple to save his life? I will not go in.'
Who is there, that, being as I am--that is, being a layman, not a
priest--as I am, could go into the temple and live? for that is the
better translation. In other words, if I, Nehemiah, who am not a priest,
should break the clear command of God, by crossing the threshold of the
temple, instead of saving my life I should lose it. I will not go in.
So failed this dastardly plot to get Nehemiah to sin, in order that his
God might desert him. The sentinel stood unmoved at his post, Nehemiah
goes on steadily with his work. Should such a man as I flee? And in
fifty-two days after its commencement, in less than two months, the wall
was finished, vi. 15.
With a huge army, with hundreds of horses, and with twenty elephants,
Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, crossed over from Greece to Italy to conquer
the Romans. No elephants had ever before been seen in Italy; and when
the two armies met, and the huge animals advanced with their dark trunks
curling and snorting, and their ponderous feet shaking the earth, the
horses in the Roman army were so terrified that they refused to move,
and Pyrrhus won an easy victory. After the battle was over Pyrrhus
walked amongst the dead, and looked at the bodies of his slain foes. As
he did so, one fact struck him very forcibly, and it was this, the
Romans did not know how to run away. Not one had turned and fled from
the field of battle. The wounds were all in front, not one was wounded
in the back.
'Ah,' said Pyrrhus, 'with such soldiers as that the whole world would
belong to me.'
Soldiers of Christ, let us be brave for the Master. Let the language of
the heart of each in the Lord's army be that of Nehemiah, 'Should such a
man as I flee?' Nay, I will not flee, I will not desert my post, I will
stand my ground, bravely, consistently, perseveringly, unto death.