In the Old Testament Scriptures we have from the beginning of the
world an advent dawn--a rose sky of Promise. HE IS COMING, is the
mysterious voice that sounds everywhere, in history, in prophecy,
in symbol, type, and shadow. It spreads through all races of men;
it becomes an earnest aspiration, a sigh, a moan of struggling
humanity, crying out for its Unknown God.
In the Garden of Eden came the first oracle, which declared that
the SEED of the woman should bruise the serpent's head. This was an
intimation, vague yet distinct, that there should come a Deliverer
who should break the power of evil. From that hour every mother had
hope, and child-bearing was invested with dignity and blessing. When
the mother of all brought the first son into the world, she fondly
hoped that she had brought forth the Deliverer, and said, "I have
gotten the MAN _Jehovah_."
Poor mother! destined to a bitter anguish of disappointment!
Thousands of years were to pass away before the second Eve should
bring forth the MAN Jehovah.
In this earliest period we find in the history of Job the anguish,
the perplexities, the despair of the helpless human creature,
crushed and bleeding beneath the power of an unknown, mighty Being,
whose ways seem cruel and inexplicable, but with whom he feels that
expostulation is impossible:--
"Lo, he goeth by me and I see him not; he passeth on also and
I perceive him not. Behold, he taketh away, and who can hinder
him? who will say unto him, What doest thou? If God will not
withdraw his anger, the proud helpers do stoop under him. How
then shall I answer him and choose out words to reason with him?"
Job admits that he desires to reason with God to ask some account of
his ways. He says:--
"My soul is weary of my life. I will speak in the bitterness of
my soul. I will say unto God, Do not condemn me; show me why
thou contendest with me. Is it good that thou shouldest oppress,
that thou shouldest despise the work of thy hands?"
He then goes through with all the perplexing mysteries of life. He
sees the wicked prosperous and successful, and he that had always
been devoted to God reduced to the extreme of human misery; he
wrestles with the problem; he longs to ask an explanation; but it
all comes to one mournful conclusion:--
"He is not a man as I am, that I should answer him, and we
should come together in judgment. Neither is there any daysman
[arbiter] between us, that might lay his hand on both of us.
Let him take his rod away and let not his fear terrify me. Then
would I speak; but it is not so with me."
Here we have in a word the deepest want of humanity: a daysman
between the infinite God and finite man; a Mediator who should lay
his hand on both of them! And then, in the midst of these yearnings
and complainings, the Spirit of God, the Heavenly Comforter, bearing
witness with Job's spirit, breaks forth in the prophetic song:--
"I know that my Redeemer liveth
And that he shall stand in the latter days upon the earth.
And though worms destroy this body,
Yet in my flesh shall I see God.
I shall see him for myself and not another.
My reins are consumed with longing for that day."
As time passes we have the history of one man, called from all
the races of men to be the ancestor of this SEED. Abraham, called
to leave his native land and go forth sojourning as a pilgrim and
stranger on earth, receives a celestial visitor who says: "Abraham,
I am the Almighty God. Walk before me and be thou perfect." He
exacts of Abraham the extremes of devotion--not only to leave his
country, kindred, friends, and be a sojourner in a strange land, but
to sacrifice the only son of his heart. And Abraham meets the test
without a wavering thought; his trust in God is absolute: and in
return he receives the promise, "In THY SEED shall all the nations
of the earth be blessed." How Abraham looked upon this promise we
are told by our Lord himself. The Jews asked him, "Art thou greater
than our father Abraham?" And he answered, "Your father Abraham
rejoiced to see my day--he saw it, and was glad."
The same promise was repeated to Jacob in the self-same words, when
he lay sleeping in the field of Luz and saw the heavenly vision of
the Son of man.
From the time of the first announcement to Abraham his descendants
became the recipients of a special divine training, in which every
event of their history had a forelooking to this great consummation.
They were taken into Egypt, and, after long suffering, delivered
from a deadly oppression. In the solemn hour of their deliverance
the blood of a spotless lamb--"a lamb without blemish"--was to mark
the door-posts of each dwelling with a sign of redemption. "Not a
bone of him shall be broken," said the ancient command, referring
to this typical sacrifice; and when in a later day the Apostle
John stood by the cross of Jesus and saw them break the limbs of
the other two victims and leave Jesus untouched, he said, "that it
might be fulfilled which was commanded, not a bone of Him shall be
broken."
The yearly festival which commemorated this deliverance was a yearly
prophecy in every Jewish family of the sinless Redeemer whose blood
should be their salvation. A solemn ritual was instituted, every
part of which was prophetic and symbolic. A high priest chosen from
among his brethren, who could be touched with the feelings of their
infirmities, was the only one allowed to enter that mysterious Holy
of Holies where were the mercy-seat and the cherubim, the throne
of the Invisible God. There, for the most part, unbroken stillness
and solitude reigned. Only on one memorable day of the year, while
all the congregation of Israel lay prostrate in penitence without,
this high priest entered for them with the blood of atonement into
the innermost presence of the King Invisible. Purified, arrayed in
spotless garments, and bearing on his breast--graven on precious
gems--the names of the tribes of Israel, he entered there, a yearly
symbol and prophecy of the greater High Priest, who should "not by
the blood of bulls and of goats, but by his own blood, enter at once
into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us."
Thus, by a series of symbols and ceremonies which filled the entire
life of the Jew, the whole national mind was turned in an attitude
of expectancy towards the future Messiah. In the more elevated and
spiritual natures--the poets and the prophets--this was continually
bursting forth into distinct predictions. Moses says, in his last
message to Israel, "A prophet shall the Lord your God raise up unto
you from the midst of your brethren like unto me; unto Him shall ye
hearken." Our Lord referred to this prophecy when he said to the
unbelieving Jews, "Had ye believed Moses ye would have believed me,
for he wrote of me."
The promise made at first to Abraham was afterwards repeated not
only to Jacob, but long centuries afterward to his descendant,
David, in a solemn, prophetic message, relating first to the reign
of Solomon, but ending with these words: "And thy house and thy
kingdom shall be established forever before thee. Thy throne shall
be established forever." That David understood these words as a
promise that the Redeemer should be of his seed is evident from the
declaration of St. Peter in Acts ii. 30, where he says that "David
being a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him
that of the fruit of his loins he would raise up Messiah to sit on
his throne, spake thus concerning him."
The Psalms of David are full of heaving, many-colored clouds and
mists of poetry, out of which shine here and there glimpses of the
mystic future. In the second Psalm we have a majestic drama. The
heathen are raging against Jehovah and his anointed Son. They say,
Let us break their bands in sunder and cast away their cords. Then
the voice of Jehovah is heard in the tumult, saying calmly, "Yet
have I set my king on my holy hill of Zion." Then an angelic herald
proclaims:--
"I will declare the decree.
The Lord hath spoken:
Thou art my Son;
This day have I begotten thee:
Ask of me and I will give the heathen for thine inheritance,
And the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession."
This mighty king, this glorious defender, is celebrated as the
All-Loving One. His reign is to be a reign of truth and love. All
the dearest forms of human affection are used to shadow forth what
he will be to his people. He is to be the royal bridegroom; his
willing people the bride. So, in the forty-fifth Psalm, entitled "A
Song of Love," we have the image of a mighty conqueror--radiant,
beloved, adored, a being addressed both as God and the Son of God,
who goes forth to victory:--
"Thou art fairer than the children of men.
Grace is poured into thy lips.
Therefore God hath blessed thee forever.
Gird thy sword on thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy glory and
majesty.
And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of thy truth and
meekness and righteousness.
Thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things.
Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever.
A sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom.
Thou lovest righteousness and hatest iniquity.
Therefore God--thy God--hath anointed thee with the oil of
gladness above thy fellows."
Then follows a description of the royal bride, the king's daughter,
who is all glorious within--her clothing of wrought gold--who with
gladness and rejoicing shall be brought to the king to become mother
of princes.
It is said by some that this is a marriage hymn for the wedding of
a prince. It may have been so originated; but in the mind of the
devout Jew every scene and event in life had become significant and
symbolical of this greater future. Every deliverer suggested the
greater Deliverer; the joy of every marriage suggested the joy of
that divine marriage with a heavenly bridegroom.
So the seventy-second Psalm, written originally for Solomon, expands
into language beyond all that can be said of any earthly monarch.
It was the last poem of David, and the feelings of the king and
father rose and melted into a great tide of imagery that belonged to
nothing earthly:--
"Yea, all kings shall fall down before him;
All nations shall serve him.
He shall deliver the needy when he crieth;
The poor also, and him that hath no helper.
He shall spare the poor and needy, and shall save the souls of
the needy.
He shall redeem their soul from deceit and violence,
And precious shall their blood be in his sight.
And he shall live, and to him shall be given the gold of Sheba.
Prayer also shall be made for him continually, and daily shall he
be praised.
His name shall endure forever.
His name shall be continued as long as the sun.
Men shall be blessed in him.
All nations shall call him blessed."
But in these same Psalms there are glimpses of a divine sufferer. In
the twenty-second Psalm David speaks of sufferings which certainly
never happened to himself--which were remarkably fulfilled in the
last agonies of Jesus:--
"All they that see me laugh me to scorn.
They shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying,
He trusted in God that he would deliver him.
Let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.
I am poured out like water; all my bones are out of joint.
My heart is like wax--it is melted in my bosom.
My strength is dried up like a potsherd.
My tongue cleaveth to my mouth.
Thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
For dogs have compassed me,
The assembly of the wicked have inclosed me;
They pierced my hands and my feet.
I may tell all my bones. They look and stare on me.
They part my garments among them
And cast lots for my vesture."
In this Psalm, written more than a thousand years before he came
into the world, our Lord beheld ever before him the scenes of his
own crucifixion; he could see the heartless stare of idle, malignant
curiosity around his cross; he could hear the very words of the
taunts and revilings, and a part of the language of this Psalm was
among his last utterances. While the shadows of the great darkness
were gathering around his cross he cried, "My God, my God, why
hast thou forsaken me?" It would seem as if the words so bitterly
fulfilled passed through his mind, as one by one the agonies and
indignities followed each other, till at last he bowed his head and
said, "It is finished."
As time rolled on, this mingled chant of triumph and of suffering
swelled clearer and plainer. In the grand soul of Isaiah, the
Messiah and his kingdom were ever the outcome of every event that
suggested itself. When the kingdom of Judah was threatened by
foreign invasion, the prophet breaks out with the promise of a
Deliverer:--
"Behold, the Lord himself shall give you a sign. Behold, a
virgin shall conceive and bring forth a son and shall call his
name Immanuel [God with us]."
Again he bursts forth as if he beheld the triumph as a present
reality:--
"Unto us a child is born
Unto us a son is given.
The government shall be upon his shoulders.
His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor,
Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and of peace there shall be no end,
Upon the throne of David and his kingdom,
To establish it with justice from henceforth and forever.
The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will perform this."