'We have no might against this great company that cometh against us;
neither know we what to do: but our eyes are upon Thee.'--2 CHRON xx.
12.
A formidable combination of neighbouring nations, of which Moab and
Ammon, the ancestral enemies of Judah, were the chief, was threatening
Judah. Jehoshaphat, the king, was panic-stricken when he heard of the
heavy war-cloud that was rolling on, ready to burst in thunder on his
little kingdom. His first act was to muster the nation, not as a
military levy but as suppliants, 'to seek help of the Lord.' The enemy
was camping down by the banks of the Dead Sea, almost within striking
distance of Jerusalem. It seemed a time for fighting, not for praying,
but even at that critical moment, the king and the men, whom it might
have appeared that plain duty called to arms, were gathered in the
Temple, and, hampered by their wives and children, were praying. Would
they not have done better if they had been sturdily marching through
the wilderness of Judah to front their foes? Our text is the close and
the climax of Jehoshaphat's prayer, and, as the event proved, it was
the most powerful weapon that could have been employed, for the rest
of the chapter tells the strangest story of a campaign that was ever
written. No sword was drawn. The army was marshalled, but Levites with
their instruments of music, not fighters with their spears, led the
van, and as 'they began to sing and to praise,' sudden panic laid hold
on the invading force, who turned their arms against each other. So
when Judah came to some rising ground, on which stood a watch-tower
commanding a view over the savage grimness of 'the wilderness,' it saw
a field of corpses, stark and stiff and silent. Three days were spent
in securing the booty, and on the fourth, Jehoshaphat and his men
'assembled themselves in the Valley of Blessing,' and thence returned
a joyous multitude praising God for the victory which had been won for
them without their having struck a blow. The whole story may yield
large lessons, seasonable at all times. We deal with it, rather than
with the fragment of the narrative which we have taken as our text.