sins, this does not make our burden lighter or shorten the path of our
pilgrimage. We are confronted by the problem of labor and suffering as
soon as we enter the world. No one is entirely exempted; and, strange as
it is, we see that it frequently happens, that those are most afflicted
who are farthest removed from the wickedness of the world and purest in
the sight of God. “Many are the tribulations of the just;” and how true is
it that the very fidelity of the servants of God is often an occasion of
their sufferings! It is not wonderful that sorrow and fear should be the
portion of sinners throughout the length of their days, for “contrition
and unhappiness are in their ways, and the way of peace they have not
known;”(48) but that all, even the saints of God, should suffer alike and
be oppressed with miseries is, at first sight, a problem and a baffling
mystery.
It is something, indeed, to feel in our suffering that we are paying the
debt of our sins, whether personal, or original, or both; it is much to
know that our crosses, severe and inevitable as they are, are a curb to
our wayward nature, and a restraint against further sins; it is assuredly
a great privilege and a high honor that we, unworthy and unfaithful
servants of our Master, should, through our tears and sorrows and
sufferings, be enabled to conform our poor lives to the tearful and
sorrowful life of our Saviour; it is a comfort that words cannot tell to
be assured by our faith that in the midst of pains and perils the Shepherd
of our souls is ever near to shield, to guard, and to save—all this is
surely much—enough to encourage and strengthen us daily to take up our
cross and joyfully follow our Redeemer, even to the hill of Calvary, even
to the death of the cross. But this is not all. A deeper meaning lies
hidden behind the veil of tears, beneath the cloak of pain and sorrow. The
miseries of life are not a mere inheritance, neither is their value of a
purely negative character. We instinctively feel that somehow, somewhere
beyond the scope of mortal ken, there is a higher explanation and a more
valid justification for all the failures and pains and sorrows of life,
than that which appears on the surface of things, or issues in results
that are only negative. Suffering for its own sake was never intended; and
we were not made to suffer. We were not created for misery, but for
happiness; not for failure, but for victory; not for death, but for life;
not for time, but for eternity. And hence there is a deeper meaning, a
higher explanation for all the failures and miseries of the present life
than those that are apparent to the casual observer.
In the title of this chapter the Psalmist, referring to the shepherd’s
care for his sheep, says: “Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” The
staff the shepherd uses, as already explained, is to assist the sheep
along their perilous journeys, and the rod to protect them in case of
attack. The rod and the staff are necessary for the welfare of the flock,
necessary to guide and shield them in their wanderings, and to bring them
safely home. So too, it is with us, the children of God. To be properly
protected and guided to our happy end we have need of the rod of
affliction and adversity, and likewise of the staff of mercy.
Although human miseries—pain, poverty, suffering and death—are, as we
know, the consequences, just and equitable, of original sin, it is a
shortsighted faith and a defective vision that find in these crosses only
chastisement for sin. Truly, they should not have been, had we never
sinned; but as God, in His mercy, draws good out of evil, so has He made
these inevitable results of our transgression serve a higher purpose and
minister to noble ends. The Saviour came that we might have life, that we
might progress and advance to ever fuller and more abundant life.(49) His
aim, and the aim and purpose of His heavenly Father, since the very dawn
of our creation, has been to lead us to happiness—to perfect, abundant,
eternal happiness. It would be of little account to be happy here, unless
we are also to rejoice eternally. It would be a poor exchange and a paltry
satisfaction, to be present at the feasts of men, only to forfeit our
place at the banquet of angels. But our heavenly reward and our celestial
crown are to be merited and won here below; they are to follow upon our
earthly labors. “Only he shall be crowned,” says St. Paul, “who has
legitimately engaged in the battle.”(50) And did not the Master say
Himself, “Let him who wishes to come after me deny himself and take up his
cross and follow me?”(51) Did He not declare that we must die to live?
that we must surrender our life here, if we would keep it eternally?
“Amen, amen, I say to you, unless the grain of wheat falling into the
ground die, itself remaineth alone. But if it die it bringeth forth much
fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life
in this world, keepeth it unto life eternal.”(52) We cannot serve two
masters, we cannot serve God and mammon. If we would seek to avoid all
pain and sorrow, and spend our lives in the pleasures of sense, we must be
prepared to forego the future joys of the soul; if we would pass our days
indulging the flesh and chasing the phantoms of time, we must needs make
ready for the death of the spirit and the forfeit of all that is lasting.
We have no choice, then; if we would succeed eternally, we must follow the
way of the cross. This is the only way to life—to that abundant, celestial
life which our Creator has wished us to live. And it is the bearing of our
cross, patiently and resignedly to the will of God, together with our
other good works, that enables us to merit, in so far as we can, the joys
of the kingdom of Heaven. But the sufferings and labors, so inevitable and
necessary to our earthly state, which serve as a means to supernal
rewards, have still another, deeper meaning, and serve another purpose. We
cannot evade them, we must encounter them. They are not only unavoidable,
but necessary to our dearest interests, as we see, since they are strewn
as thorns and brambles all along the narrow way that leads to eternal
life. We cannot choose them or lay them aside at will. We may, indeed, if
we be foolish and impious enough, refuse to walk the narrow way of the
just and choose the broad road that leadeth to destruction; but we shall
not even thus escape the pains and perils inseparable from this mortal
life. Or again, we may, in our folly, rebel against the crosses and labors
that confront and pursue us; but whether we go this way or that, whether
we will it or not, we can no more eschew all the evils of life than escape
from the air that we breathe. The pressure, it is true, is not always upon
us; we are not, without ceasing, weighed down by our labors and groaning
to be delivered from the body of this death. There is interruption, there
is passing pleasure, a rift in the clouds and a smile of the sunshine even
for the darkest and poorest life. And yet withal, we know and we are
conscious that we are ever under the sentence of death, that life is a
fleeting shadow, that like
“A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passes from life to his rest in the grave.”
There is no evading the conclusion, therefore, that the days of man in
this world are few and full of miseries. “The life of man upon earth is a
warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling. He cometh forth
like a flower, and is destroyed, and fleeth as a shadow.”(53) “For all
flesh is as grass, and all the glory thereof as the flower of grass. The
grass is withered, and the flower thereof is fallen away.”(54) To the
natural man all this is appalling, and how frequently it finds its
solution in unbridled self-indulgence, in mental unbalance, and
self-destruction! But the saints, and all the truly wise, have viewed the
problem of human suffering in a vastly different light. They have
discerned it, first of all, as really distinctive of the road to Heaven,
and as essentially pertaining to the royal way of the cross. They have
understood that it extinguishes the wrath of the heavenly Father, that it
atones for sin and makes the soul conformable to our suffering Saviour,
and therefore have they loved it. And more than this, those who have been
led by the wisdom of God have found, not only that the crosses of life are
essentially connected with the way of salvation, but that by them and
through them alone we are often _positively driven_ to God. We may try to
avoid them, and at times, perhaps, succeed; we may flee from them or
endeavor to still the voice of their pain; or, when unable to escape them,
we may, in our wrath and desperation, rise up against them and rebuke
them: but they persistently remain, they continue to haunt, as if to woo
and to win us to penetrate their deeper meaning, and discover the treasure
that in them lies concealed. The very breakdown of human things, the
severing of human ties and relationships, the loss of health and wealth,
of treasures and friends, and of all that life holds dear, are really
meant, in the deepest sense, to drive us to the divine. This is the
meaning of those tears and sorrows, those pains and sufferings, that
loneliness, that grief, that agony of heart and soul which belong to this
world of tears. All these are intended to teach us that here below, on
this crumbling shore of time, we have no abiding city, or home, or life,
or love; but seek a city, a home, a life, a love that hath foundations,
whose builder and maker is God.(55)
We need God, we were made for God, and our nature, with all its longings
and powers, cries out for Him. And therefore has God so arranged the
world, in spite of all its evils, and in spite of all our sinfulness,
that, if we do not prevent it, it will lead us out to happiness—lead us
out to Himself. It was our sin that despoiled the face of the world; but
God, in His mercy, has drawn good out of evil, He has made the effects of
sin minister to our advantage, if we will but have it so. We may,
forsooth, refuse, because we are free; we may object, and rebel, and
oppose our lot; we may take our destiny out of the hands of our Creator
and attempt to shape it for ourselves; we may deride and despise the
humble, the lowly of heart, the patient, the mortified and the suffering;
we may upbraid the Providence of God and its workings, and refuse to
submit to the rule of the Creator; we may hold in derision and contempt
the little band that is sweetly marching the way of the cross, preferring
for ourselves the company of the multitude that knows not God—all this can
we do, because we are free; but if such be our choice, and if we persevere
in it, our portion is fixed, and we shall have at last only to say with
the wicked: “Therefore we have erred from the way of truth, and the light
of justice hath not shined unto us, and the sun of understanding hath not
risen upon us. We wearied ourselves in the way of iniquity and
destruction, and have walked through hard ways, but the way of the Lord we
have not known. What hath pride profited us? or what advantage hath the
boasting of riches brought us? All those things are passed away like a
shadow, and like a post that runneth on.”(56)
Sufferings, therefore, are common to all, to the good and the bad, to the
wise and the foolish, to the children of light and to the children of
darkness. But only those who are directed by grace and light from above
are able to pierce the deeper meaning of the cross. All have to bear it,
but not all understand it; all feel the weight of it, but all do not know
the power of it. Like fortune, it knocks at every door, into every heart
it endeavors to enter and make known its deeper significance, its hidden
secrets, lest any of us should suffer in vain, and our lives be altogether
a failure. To be able to suffer patiently and gladly for God’s sake, is
thus a great wisdom; it is a sign of future blessedness. It is the wisdom
of God, which is foolishness to men. “If thou hadst the science of all the
astronomers,” says Eternal Wisdom; “if thou couldst speak and discourse
about God as fully and well as all angels and men; if thou alone were as
learned as the whole body of doctors; all this would not bestow on thee so
much holiness of life as if, in the afflictions that come upon thee, thou
art able to be resigned to Me and to abandon thyself to Me. The former is
common to good and bad, but the latter belongs to My elect alone.”
We know that our Saviour took upon Himself the cross of sorrow and
suffering, not alone that He might satisfy for our transgressions and be
our ransom from bondage, but also that He might be unto us an example and
a leader. And knowing that our unfaithfulness had incurred severest
maladies from which none could escape, He bore our infirmities and carried
our sorrows for us, in order that we, in our time, might bear our
inevitable afflictions for His sake, for love of Him, and thereby attain
to unending glory with Him. “For the spirit himself giveth testimony to
our spirit, that we are the sons of God. And if sons, heirs also; heirs,
indeed of God, and joint heirs with Christ: yet so, if we suffer with him,
that we may be also glorified with him.”(57) “If you partake of the
sufferings of Christ,” says St. Peter, “rejoice that when his glory shall
be revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy.”(58) The chains of
sorrow which bind us here below, our Shepherd thus would turn to golden
cords of love, which draw and hold us to Himself. We cannot, as we see,
ascend to Heaven, rise to blessedness, except by the way of the cross. And
our degree of glory in Heaven, the eternal happiness which we shall enjoy,
will be in proportion to the degree of charity or love of God which our
souls possess at death; and this divine charity, which is to measure our
future beatitude, is acquired and augmented by faithfully doing the will
of God—by patiently and lovingly bearing the cross of life. Sacrifice is
the test of love. And hence the more we do and suffer for Christ’s sake,
the more we prove our love for Him and the greater shall be our happiness
in the kingdom of His Father. All holy writers, all the masters of the
spiritual life agree in teaching that God particularly chastises those
whom He loves with a special love. He proves the elect to find if they are
worthy of Himself.(59) He does not spare them now, that He may spare them
hereafter; He tries them for a time, that He may reward them forever; He
seems harsh with them here, during the time of probation, only that He may
draw them closer to Himself everlastingly.
The devoted friends of God and the ardent lovers of things spiritual have
deeply pondered these momentous truths. They have realized that our days
here, though few and fast-flying, are really to determine our lot and
condition throughout the eternal years. They have known that the passing
present is the price of the lasting future; that this is the seeding time,
and hereafter the harvest. And because our future happiness is to be in
accord with our merits here acquired, jealously have they sought and
embraced every present occasion to increase their merits and their
worthiness for the glory that is to come. This is why they have loved the
cross, the symbol of salvation, the emblem of victory; this, too, is why
they have felt disturbed and full of fear when the cross was absent from
them. Unlike the unenlightened sufferer, who sees only punishment in his
pains, the saints of God have ever accepted their crosses as a sign of
special love, a divine visitation, a preparation for the great communion.
We see now how it is that the rod of chastisement and the staff of mercy
are able to give joy and comfort to God’s chosen friends; and thus are
they designed to console and comfort everyone who is truly led by faith
and love. Sufferings are really a blessing, but the eye of faith alone
discerns it. They keep us from present pleasures, from hurtful occasions,
from alluring vanities; they direct us into the way of salvation, they
drive us to God, they increase the glory of our eternal blessedness. What
are the trials of earth when compared with the joys of Heaven? Rather, how
precious are they! since, if we use them aright, they lead us out into a
higher life, to a closer friendship with God. And if, through the mercy of
our heavenly Father, we permit the cross to lead us to His knees and
enrich our lives with His love, who can speak its infinite value? What
treasure can be likened to it? Surely nothing that we know can surpass it
in worth. We might, indeed, enjoy all that life can give; we might possess
all riches, all health, all success; we might have honor, fame, glory,
power; the praise and love of men, the treasures of earthly friendship and
earthly affection—the whole world we might gain and enjoy; but if through
all these, or in spite of all, we should not be led to the love and
friendship of God, we should know only vanity, and life for us would in
its issue be nothing but a dismal failure.
But if, on the contrary, through the sufferings and losses, the
deficiencies and limitations of life, we have been led to make God our
dearest friend, if we have been taught, by the coldness and harshness of
men, to take refuge in His love, how blessed are we! how cheaply the
purchase has been made, even though it has meant the loss of every passing
good, of all that the world can give, even the pouring out of our own
life’s blood!
Teach me, O my Master, in the day of sorrow and tribulation, to understand
the meaning of the cross, to know the value of my sufferings, to grasp the
power and the secret of Thy rod and Thy staff. Assist me to see Thee
through the darkness that surrounds me; and give me to feel, in the midst
of loneliness and perils, amid pain and desolation, the nearness to my
soul of Thy loving-kindness, and the strength of Thy merciful presence.
IX. THOU SPREADEST BEFORE ME A TABLE IN THE PRESENCE OF MINE ENEMIES.
In the preceding verses of the Shepherd Psalm the Psalmist has described
the constant care of the shepherd for his sheep—the rest and refreshment,
the protection and comfort he provides for them. And now, in the present
verse, he speaks of a feast he has prepared for them, which is to be
likened to a bountiful banquet—a banquet which they are to enjoy, a feast
which they are to consume, in the sight of their enemies, in the presence
of the evils that afflict them. He refers, at first, to the manner of
preparing or spreading a table in the Orient. Often the custom of olden
times was not much different from that which prevails among the Arabs even
today. To prepare a table means with them simply to spread a skin or a
cloth or a mat on the ground.
And it is to this kind of table that the Psalmist refers when he sings of
the feast of the sheep. He means nothing more than that he has provided
for his flock in the face of their enemies a rich pasture, a spreading
slope, where they shall feed with contentment and peace, in spite of the
evils that surround them.
But the quiet and peace which the sheep enjoy, while partaking of their
spread-out banquet, are entirely owing to the protecting presence of the
shepherd. And it frequently happens that here again the utmost skill and
diligence of the shepherd are called into play in thus securing the peace
and safety of his flock. The most abundant pastures are many times
interspersed with noxious weeds and plants, which, if eaten, would sicken
and poison the herd; while around the feeding places and grazing grounds
very often lie hid, in thickets and holes and caves in the hillsides, wild
animals, such as jackals, wolves and panthers, ready to spring out, at the
critical moment, and devour the innocent sheep. The shepherd is aware of
all these evils and enemies of his tender flock; and he goes ahead and
prepares the way, avoiding the poisonous grasses, and driving away, or
slaying, if need be, the beasts that menace the peace and security of the
pasture. The evils are not entirely dispelled, but only sufficiently
removed or held in check so as not to imperil the flock.
Such is the table prepared for the sheep by their provident and watchful
shepherd; and such is the feast of which they partake with quiet joy in
the sight and presence of their enemies. But, as just said, the tranquil
joy which is theirs comes not from the fact that danger has been all
removed, nor from the fact that they have become hardened and used to its
presence. They know it is always near; and they are conscious, as far as
animals can be, of their own utter helplessness, if left to themselves, to
survive an attack of their powerful enemies. But they do not fear, they
are not disturbed or anxious, solely for the reason that they feel their
shepherd is present, and they know he will guard and protect them. Hence
the Psalmist is speaking for the sheep when he says to the shepherd with a
tone of confident joy, “Thou spreadest before me a table in the presence
of mine enemies.”
The spiritual meaning of this, like the other verses of the Shepherd
Psalm, is peculiarly descriptive of our Lord, the Good Shepherd of human
souls. He, in a manner altogether divine, precedes His elect, and prepares
them the way of salvation. He does not deliver them from enemies and
dangers, which would be unnatural in the present state, but He makes use
of evils, as said before, to increase the perfection of His chosen souls.
Gradually, step by step, from a natural He leads them to a higher
state—from diffidence to trust, from fear to love, from sorrow and anguish
to peace and joy.
The change in the soul is rarely at once and immediate; it does not come
of a sudden. At first it is difficult and repugnant to nature to find joy
in sorrow and pleasure in pain, to see gladness in tears and rest in
disturbance, to find peace in the midst of our enemies; but God, in His
omnipotent goodness, so disposes and provides for the souls of His elect
that sooner or later they penetrate to the meaning of things, and find
there their hidden treasure. When the fabric of life itself has crumbled
to its native dust, when friends have gone and charms departed, when the
very earth we tread seems trembling beneath our feet, and every dream of
earthly bliss is fled, when enemies sit where loved ones sat, and the
heart has all but ceased to beat, then is the acceptable time and
propitious moment, for the devout and faithful soul, that has washed its
garments in the blood of the Lamb, to look up to Heaven with expectant
joy. The thrilling vision of eternal love so much desired, so long perhaps
delayed, is then, indeed, about to dawn.
The sweetness of God and the peace of His spirit are not to be found in
the market place, nor in the noise and clamor of the busy street. It is
not at the banquets of earthly kings that we taste of the joys of the
Saviour’s feast. It is not amid honors and riches and the pleasures of
sense that the calm dews of Heaven refresh the soul. We were made for a
higher friendship, for a more intimate union, for a sweeter companionship
than any that earth can provide. And it is only when the door has been
shut to the outer world, when the vanities of time have ceased to be
sought, that the soul is ready for the wedding garment, and able to
prepare for the marriage feast. It is in the inner sanctuary and alone,
divested of fleshy trammels and freed from the bondage of earthly
attachments, that the soul is able to meet its God and hold intimate
converse with Him.