The Davidic king was in Jerusalem, and the potters were 'among
plantations and hedges,' yet in a real sense they 'dwelt with the
king,' though some of them might never have seen his face or trod the
streets of the sacred city. Perhaps now and then he came to visit them
on his outlying domains, but they were always parts of his household.
And have we, Christ's servants, not His gracious parting word: 'I am
with you always'? True, we are not beside Him in the great city, but
He is beside us in His outlying domains, and we may be with Him in His
glory, if while we still outwardly live among the 'plantations and
hedges' of this life, we dwell in spirit, by faith and aspiration,
with our risen and ascended Lord. If we so 'dwell with the King,' He
will dwell with us, and fill our humble abode with the radiance of His
presence, 'making that place of His feet glorious.' That He should be
with us is supreme condescension, that we should be with Him is the
perfection of exaltation. How low He stoops, how high we can rise! The
vigour of our Christian life largely depends on our keeping vivid the
consciousness of our communion with Jesus and the sense of His real
presence with us. How life's burdens would be lightened if we faced
them all in the strength of the felt nearness of our Lord! How
impossible it would be that we should ever feel the dreary sense of
solitude, if we felt that unseen, but most real, Presence wrapping us
round! It is only when our faith in it has fallen asleep that any
earthly good allures, or any earthly evil frightens us. To be sure, in
our thrilling consciousness, that we dwell with Jesus is an
impenetrable cuirass that blunts the points of all arrows and keeps
the breast that wears it unwounded in the fray. The world has no
voices which can make themselves heard above that low sovereign
whisper: 'I am with you always, even to the end of the world'--and
after the end has come, then we shall be with Him.
But we find in this notice a hint that leads us in yet another
direction. They 'dwelt with the king' in the sense that they were
housed and cared for on his lands. And in like manner, the true
conception of the Christian life is that each of us is 'a sojourner
with Thee,' set down on Christ's domains, and looked after by Him in
regard to provision for outward wants. We have nothing in property,
but all is His and held by His gift and to be used for Him. The slave
owns nothing. The patch of ground which he cultivates for his food and
what grows on it, are his master's. These workmen were not slaves, but
they were not owners either. And we hold nothing as our own, if we are
true to the terms on which it is given us to hold.
So if we rightly appreciate our position as dwelling on the King's
lands, our delusion of possession will vanish, and we shall feel more
keenly the pressure of responsibility while we feel less keenly the
grip of anxiety. We are for the time being entrusted with a tiny piece
of the royal estates. Let us not strut about as if we were owners, nor
be for ever afraid that we shall not have enough for our needs. One
sometimes comes on a model village close to the gates of some ducal
palace, and notes how the lordly owner's honour prompts its being kept
up to a high standard of comfort and beauty. We may be sure that the
potters were well lodged and looked after, and that care for their
personal wants was shifted from their shoulders to the king's. So
should ours be. He will not leave His servants to starve. They should
not dishonour Him and disturb themselves by worries and cares that
would be reasonable only if they had no Provider. He has said, 'All
things are given to Me of My Father,' and He gives us all that God has
given Him.