his unholy errand, desiring to curse those whom he knew that his God
had blessed. What was in the heart of the seer, when, with repeated
blows from that staff, he strove to urge forward the reluctant,
frightened ass which he rode? Not jealousy for the honour of God—not
impatience to carry the blessing of religious knowledge to Moab; but
one absorbing desire for his own advancement—his own profit, though
at the cost of the misery and the ruin of God's chosen people! Most
forcible is the expression used by one of our most talented writers to
describe a character utterly selfish, such as that of Balaam appears to
have been: "A selfish man's heart is 'just the size of his coffin;' it
has room to contain but himself." A description which presents to us an
image not only of narrowness, but of death.
Balaam was one whose conduct belied his words. He was as a branch
drawn back by main strength, but as soon as the outward pressure is
removed, returning—springing back into its natural position. Fear was
to him as a strong force drawing him back from sin, but only as long
as the pressure remained. "Let me die the death of the righteous, and
let my last end be like his!" Such was the aspiration on the lips of
the prophet; but thoughts of covetousness, followed by an act of sin
and the shameful death to which it led, make the history of Balaam a
terrible warning to inconsistent professors of religion throughout all
ages.
It is, then, possible that a man may preach to others, and yet be
himself a cast away; that he may be admired, followed, looked up to
as a leader in religion, and yet have no real life in his faith. He
may guide others to wealth, yet be himself miserably poor! There is an
analogy between the fate of such a man and that of Rose and Dietz, two
explorers in North America, who discovered a creek so rich in gold,
that its treasures have, for four years in succession, maintained more
than sixteen thousand people, some of whom have left the country with
large fortunes. *
* "The North-West Passage by Land," by Milton and Cheadle.
Surely those whose feet first trod this land of gold—those who led the
way where thousands have triumphantly followed, must have turned their
knowledge into boundless wealth, and have been amongst the richest of
mankind! So we might well conjecture, till we read the record of their
fate. Dietz returned unsuccessful to Victoria, where he was struck down
by fever, and obliged to receive help from charity. The fate of Rose
was sadder still. He "disappeared for months; and his body was found at
length by a party of miners in a journey of discovery, far out on the
wilds. On the branch of a tree hard by hung his tin cup, and scratched
upon it with the point of a knife, was his name and the words, 'Dying
of starvation!'" Did visions flit before the eyes of the famishing
man of the vast wealth which he had discovered, but never enjoyed—of
thousands feasting on the golden harvest to which he had guided them,
while not a single crumb was his portion to save him from a terrible
death!
Darker must have been the thoughts of Balaam, if time for thought was
left, as his life-blood ebbed away where he lay involved in the fate—as
he had been in the guilt—of the enemies of the Lord! To him had been
revealed mysterious treasures of knowledge—his eyes had been opened,
his mind enlightened. To him the Almighty had spoken—to him an angel
had appeared—to him had been vouchsafed a prophetic glimpse of the Star
that should come out of Jacob, the Sceptre that should rise out Of
Israel. If knowledge had power to secure, or spiritual privileges to
save, Balaam surely would never have perished.
"Take heed and beware of covetousness." The warning is addressed to
all, but it should come with peculiar force to those who are called
on—in however narrow a sphere—to deliver the message of God. Their lips
must not teach one thing, and their lives another; they must not guide
others to the glorious land, and themselves wander away to perish. If
they stand in a clearer light than most men, greater is their guilt and
their condemnation if they sin against that light.
Covetousness is a snare into which the enlightened, the honoured, the
privileged have fallen; it has ruined a Balaam amongst the prophets,
a Judas amongst the apostles. And yet how few dread its power over
themselves! To be in haste to grow rich, is perhaps the leading
characteristic of men in this age: they are impatient of obstacles in
their way, as Balaam at the stumbling of the beast that he rode; they
see not the opposing angel that stands before them with the warning:
"They that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into
many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and
perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XIV.
Rahab's Scarlet Cord.
NO fragile cord this, the "scarlet thread" which Rahab fastened in
her window. Its firm twist has borne the weight of the two Israelite
spies whom this woman of a doomed race, strong in faith, saved from the
pursuit of their enemies. It was a moment of deep anxiety when Rahab
led the spies to the casement in the darkness of night, and ere they
descended by that scarlet cord, earnestly pleaded with them for the
family whom she loved.
"Now therefore, I pray you, swear unto me by the Lord, since I have
shewed you kindness, that ye will also show kindness unto my father's
house, and give me a true token: and that ye will save alive my father,
and my mother, and my brethren, and my sisters, and all that they have,
and deliver our lives from death!"
"Our life for yours," answered the men to their brave and generous
preserver. "Behold," they afterwards said, "when we come into the land,
thou shalt bind this line of scarlet thread in the window which thou
didst let us down by: and thou shalt bring thy father, and thy mother,
and thy brethren, and all thy father's household, home unto thee. And
it shall be, that whosoever shall go out of the doors of thy house into
the street, his blood shall be upon his head, and we will be guiltless;
and whosoever shall be with thee in the house, his blood shall be on
our head, if any hand be upon him."
They were gone, those men of Israel; Rahab had faithfully performed
the duties of hospitality, of mercy, and now she remained awaiting in
trembling hope, the fulfilment of the promise which they had made.
There hung the scarlet line from her window over the wall of the doomed
city: on it was now suspended the safety of herself and her household.
We picture to ourselves Rahab watching from that window the miraculous
passage of the Jordan by Israel's hosts under Joshua; the priests
descending into the bed of the river, bearing with them the Ark of the
Covenant; and the waters standing on a heap to let the Lord's people
go over dry-shod. She beholds the multitudes of Israel,—warriors and
women, flocks and herds—streaming across the dry channel of the once
rapid river, a countless, an irresistible force, because under the
immediate guidance of Him who is omnipotent. We know what was the
effect of the marvellous passage on the minds of the people of Canaan:
"their heart melted, neither was there spirit in them any more." Rahab
might tremble like the rest; but when she looked on that scarlet cord
she would yet thank God and take courage. Those terrible hosts of
Israel came not as enemies to her.
Then followed the siege of Jericho, the city on whose wall stood the
dwelling of Rahab. Day after day the woman of Canaan beheld that
mysterious march of the Israelites round the city. Strange and terrible
must have appeared the solemn procession which for seven days moved
round its walls. First came the seven priests with their trumpets,
preceding the Ark of God. The warriors of Israel followed in stern
silence; there was no sound of voice from the hosts whose glittering
arms were consecrated to the terrible work of executing the sentence
passed by a righteous God upon His guilty creatures. Despair would have
oppressed the soul of Rahab, who knew but too well that Jericho was
given into the hands of its foes, but for that scarlet line, the pledge
and token of mercy to her and all in her house.
The seventh day dawned, the last that the city of Jericho—as it
then stood—ever should see. Seven times the march of the Israelites
encircled the walls. Then with what terror must the household, gathered
together in the dwelling on the wall, have heard the blast of the
trumpet, followed by that thundering shout before which crashing fell
bulwark and battlement—all Jericho's pride and strength! Fearful
sounds succeeded; slaughter was raging in the streets; the swords of
Israel were bathed in blood! Rahab and her family could not but have
experienced emotions of pity and horror, as shuddering they listened
to those sounds; but they needed to have no feelings of personal fear:
that scarlet cord was to them a surer defence than strongest bulwark
or loftiest tower; a surer defence than a phalanx of spears bristling
around them. There was no danger to Rahab from falling wall or from
enemy's sword; there was no stain on her threshold, no dying cry in her
home. By faith, she perished not with them that believed not. She lived
to be a mother in Israel, by adoption one of the people of God, if,
as is supposed, it was this Rahab who became the wife of Salmon, and
the mother of Boaz of Bethlehem, and thus an ancestress of the blessed
Saviour Himself.
We naturally suppose that the scarlet cord would be preserved as an
heirloom in the family at Bethlehem; that the gentle Ruth, herself a
daughter of Abraham by adoption, looked with peculiar interest upon
this relic of her husband's Gentile mother; and that young David often
gazed with reverential awe on this memorial kept in his father's home
of her who, in faith, preserved the Israelitish spies. We can scarcely
conceive that such a family relic as this would lightly be cast away.
There is much that reminds us of Christ's Church, in the position of
the pale, anxious woman of Jericho, watching from her casement the
Israelites encircling the city doomed to destruction, she herself
secure in a promise, saved by faith, reserved for blessedness and
honour. A thousand years with the Lord is but as a day, and for nearly
six such periods has the silent, solemn march of events, brought nearer
the grand consummation before us. The Church knows that "the day of the
Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall
pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent
heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned
up." She is listening with trembling expectation for the sound of the
"shout, and the voice of the archangel," and "the trump of God," when
the earth shall reel to and fro, and the mountains shall shake, and
the mighty cities shall fall! She has nothing to fear in that day: the
blood of Christ is her salvation—the angel of destruction will see the
token of living faith, and touch not the redeemed of the Lord.
Yes, faith in Christ is our scarlet cord, and there are two lessons
which we may learn from the type. Rahab's cord was not left in her
dwelling a useless coil; it was employed in God's service, and it was
shown forth in sight of the world. What would the mere possession of
a scarlet line have availed to Rahab, if she had not used it in doing
God's work? Was not Rahab "justified by works, when she had received
the messengers, and had sent them out another way"? Nor was her scarlet
cord hidden from men; it hung from her window over the wall. So should
the Christian's profession of faith be open: he should not only believe
in Christ, but serve Him—not only serve Him, but confess Him.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XV.
Gideon's Ephod.
WE doubt whether the high priest of Israel, in all the glory of his
festival robes, wore so costly an ephod as this. His was, indeed, to be
of gold and blue and scarlet and fine twisted linen; gold beaten into
plates and cut into wires, with engraved jewels in ouches of gold to
rest on the shoulder-pieces, very fair to the eye. But a heavier mass
of magnificence is before us than even the consecrated garment of Aaron
appears to have been; a marvellous weight of gold, such as a Crœsus or
a Darius might have worn to dazzle the eyes of their subjects.
Had we asked one of the men of Ophrah in the days of Gideon concerning
this gorgeous ephod, his answer might have been something like this:
"Behold a nation's offering of gratitude to the hero who burst the
bonds of Midian, and made Israel to triumph over their oppressors!
Gideon, the favoured of Heaven, the honoured of men! He to whom signs
and miracles have been vouchsafed; he whose faith hath made him the
deliverer of a nation, yet who hath refused to become its king;—Gideon
formed this ephod. 'I would desire a request of you,' said our hero to
his warriors: 'That ye would give me every man the ear-rings of his
prey.'
"And the warriors made reply: 'We will willingly give them.'
"A garment was spread to receive this tribute of gratitude to our
chief, and thereon was cast mighty store of jewels and gold, and the
purple raiment that had been upon the necks of the kings of Midian.
Then made Gideon this ephod from the spoils of the conquered foe. Those
who look upon it shall hold his triumph in remembrance; it shall be as
a monument to his honour, worthy of him whose valour hath won it."
Such might have been the reply of one of the followers of Gideon,
dazzled with the glory of his leader. Very different appears the
ephod of gold in the light thrown on it by this brief sentence from
Scripture: "Which thing became a snare unto Gideon, and to his house."
It is difficult, at this distance of time, to know exactly the motive
of Gideon in making the ephod, or in what way it became a cause of
sin. It has been suggested that it was a symbol of Levitical worship
set up by Gideon at Ophrah, which drew away the people from Shiloh,
the appointed holy place, where the high priest abode in charge of the
ark of God. Whether it were this irregularity, or whether a race prone
to idolatry actually worshipped the ephod, has not been clearly made
known. We are simply told that the ephod was "a snare." The hundreds of
shekels of gold, the purple raiment and jewels, were no real blessing
to Gideon; he was less safe when he had become the idol of a nation,
than when employed in threshing corn beside the wine-press to hide it
from Midianite oppressors.
Popularity, however honourably won, is too apt to become, to fallen
man, like the ephod of Gideon; the garment of glory is often "a
snare." If it led astray a man of character so pious, so noble, so
disinterested as Gideon, how much need have all God's servants, when
placed in a position of distinction, to take to themselves the warning,
"Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall."
Those who have earned for themselves an honoured name in what is
called "the religious world," are in a situation of peculiar danger.
The popular preacher, the eloquent author, the active philanthropist,
may, like Gideon, find a snare even in their nobly won honours. Howard
shrank from the idea of a statue being raised to him; he was not a man
to form jewels into an ephod, he would pour them all into the treasury
of the Lord; but in most cases celebrity and distinction are very
intoxicating to human nature, even when that nature has been renewed by
grace. To be listened to as an oracle, and appealed to as a judge; to
be welcomed in high circles, flattered by the gifted and followed by
the good, is fraught with peril; all the more real because it is not of
a nature to startle conscience, but rather to soothe it to sleep. Those
of whom all pious men think well, are naturally tempted also to think
well of themselves. It is desirable for such to keep before their eyes
the golden ephod; "which thing became a snare unto Gideon."
Even in the comparatively narrow sphere of home there is some danger
to him who is the idol of the family, the pope in the dwelling, to him
whose will is law to those who love him, and in whose conduct partial
eyes can see nothing that is wrong. Love has its own sweet flattery,
and he who is constantly exposed to its influence, without the
wholesome antidote of the contradiction and opposition to be met with
in the world, may seriously suffer from its effects. In the peaceful
seclusion of private life, in a pious home from which temptation might
appear to be almost shut out, there may be need to remember the golden
ephod; "which thing became a snare unto Gideon."
And in the inmost recesses of the heart lurks peril. When a Christian
has long maintained, through God's grace, a successful struggle against
the world, the flesh, and the devil; when the spiritual hero has
resisted outward temptations and overcome inward corruptions, and is
conscious that, like Gideon, he has triumphed nobly through faith,—then
let him stand on his guard. How strong must be the temptation to form
the ephod out of spiritual trophies, when even St. Paul needed a thorn
in the flesh to preserve him from being exalted above measure through
the abundance of the revelations vouchsafed him! Christian, in Bunyan's
allegory, fought bravely in the valley, but slept in the arbour on the
hill. Gideon gloriously triumphed in time of war, but in time of peace
made the ephod, which became unto him a snare.
The Christian's motto, in the days of spiritual prosperity as well as
the dark days of trouble, should be: "God forbid that I should glory,
save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XVI.
The Jawbone of an Ass.
A GREATER contrast could scarcely be found than that presented to view
between the last object of our contemplation and this. The golden ephod
is gorgeous and fair; here we look on an unsightly bone, a relic of
the despised animal that crops the thistle, bears the burden and the
blow. The jackals might reject it, the passenger's foot kick it aside.
It has in itself no beauty, no dignity, no value; and but for finding
it carefully preserved in Scripture, we would not pause to give it a
thought.
The practical lesson suggested by this bone contrasts well with that
drawn from the ephod: if the latter showed us the weakness of human
nature even in the noblest of men, the former teaches us what God
can make of the most common—most humble instrument. Through Him, the
jawbone of an ass became a more terrible weapon than the keenest steel
had ever been in the hand of the strongest man. Samson, after the
victory which he had won single-handed, exclaimed: "With the jawbone
of an ass, heaps upon heaps, with the jaw of an ass have I slain a
thousand men!" And then, as if even he despised the instrument which he
had used, when he had made an end of speaking, he cast the jawbone away.
But that which man threw aside, God had chosen for peculiar honour.
Samson was to feel his own weakness in the midst of his strength. He
who had slain a thousand found himself ready to perish for lack of a
draught of water. The proud boast of Samson was soon followed by humble
prayer:
"Thou hast given this great deliverance into the hand of Thy servant:
and now shall I die for thirst, and fall into the hand of the
uncircumcised?"
God heard the cry, and answered it by a miracle. The dead bone became
a spring of living refreshment: "God clave an hollow place that was in
the jaw, and there came water thereout."
Once more the despised thing was eagerly raised by the hand of the
mighty Samson. "When he had drunk, his spirit came again, and he
revived: wherefore he called the name thereof Enhakkore," which is,
"The well of him that cried."
The wonders accomplished by means of this jawbone illustrate the
declaration of St. Paul, which proud man is so slow to receive: "God
hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and
God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things
which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are
despised, hath God chosen." There is encouragement to the lowliest in
these words, and they may also serve as a rebuke to those who act in
the spirit of the man in the parable, who, possessing but one talent,
hid it; that hopeless, apathetic, listless spirit, which those who
foster it are too apt to mistake for humility of soul.
We have seen the danger of self-exaltation, but there is a danger on
the opposite side; there is a cowardly shrinking from performance of
duty from a sense of our own deficiencies. Even Moses fell into this
error: "I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue," cried he, seeking
an excuse for not undertaking the mission on which God would send him.
And the Lord said unto him, "Who hath made man's mouth? or who maketh
the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the Lord?"
And when Moses persisted in declining the office of which he felt
himself to be unworthy, "the anger of the Lord was kindled." For
whatever work God gives His people to do, He will provide them with
an instrument. There are those who say in their hearts, "Had I but
wealth, how largely would I give! How much good would I do!" or, "Had
I but strength, how actively would I engage in the work of the Lord!"
Had Samson been like these, he might have exclaimed, "Oh, had I but a
sword in my hand, I would put these Philistines to flight!" But Samson
uttered no such idle exclamation; he caught up the nearest weapon at
hand; he used what he found, though it was but an ass's jawbone, and
God made it effectual to put to flight the army of the aliens.
So the imprisoned Bunyan did not sit down in his prison despairing,
murmuring forth, "Had I but 'liberty,' I would declare God's truth;"
nor, in our own times, Moon * exclaim, "Had I but 'sight,' I would be
useful in my generation." No, the imprisoned and the blind both worked
with brave, hopeful resolution; and both have been enabled to do more
for God's glory and the welfare of mankind than have tens of thousands
of Christians possessing the advantages lacked by these servants of God.
* This blind man has given portions of the Scriptures in embossed
letters to those afflicted like himself in "fifty-six languages!"
Hope is classed by St. Paul with faith and charity: it is closely
connected with both. Christian Hope, born of Faith in the truth,
the power, and the mercy of God, gives energy to Charity in all her
active labours of love. "Our Lord can make a weak instrument strong, a
worthless instrument effectual; He could bless even 'that'!" whispers
Hope, as she points to the jawbone so mighty in the hand of Faith.
And thus still may the weary worker, disheartened by difficulties,
"faint, yet pursuing," drink in refreshment, and gain vigour for new
efforts, like Samson, from the bone of an ass.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XVII.
Ruth's Barley-ears.
MEEKLY stooped Ruth to gather up these scattered grains of the golden
harvest which the servants of Boaz, the "mighty man of wealth," were
bearing home to his garners. But not the gleanings alone, but the
fulness of the harvest also was to be Ruth's, by her union with the
lord of the land; the fields in which the young widow in loneliness
toiled, were to become the possession of the bride.
"Blessed are the neck, for they shall inherit the earth." This is a
peculiar promise, made to the lowly, of whom Ruth, bending down to
glean in the barley-field, may be regarded as a type. In what especial
manner that promise is to be fulfilled in a future state we know not,
but it is an interesting subject for our musings to consider how the
meek are now "gleaning," as it were, some ears of the rich harvest of
which the full enjoyment will one day be their own.
It is the more needful for us to turn our thoughts to this subject,
from meekness being little valued on Earth, though highly esteemed
in Heaven. Men are apt to class it with a cringing, cowardly spirit;
forgetting that Moses, who faced boldly both the wrath of the tyrant
and the fury of the people, firm and lofty in soul as he was, is yet
called the meekest of men.
But in what way do the meek, like Ruth, now glean the first ears of a
plenteous harvest reserved for their possession hereafter?
In the first place, by that "contentment" which is proverbially better
than riches, the tranquil enjoyment of what God has bestowed instead of
the misery caused by cankering envy and restless ambition. While the
covetous man cannot be said to enjoy anything which he does not himself
actually possess, and looks with pain rather than pleasure on the rich
beauties of property not his own, the meek already "inherit the earth"
by "the right of the eye." The delight afforded to the Christian by the
fair landscape spreading before him, has been well described by Cowper:—