Now, the believer should clearly understand, and rightly distinguish

between, both the above phases of the cross of Christ. He should not

profess to enjoy the one, while he refuses to enter into the other. If

his ear is open to hear Christ's voice within the veil, it should be

open also to hear his voice outside the camp. If he enters into the

atonement which the cross has accomplished, he should also realize the

rejection which it necessarily involves. The former flows out of the

part which God had in the cross; the latter out of the part which man

had therein. It is our happy privilege, not only to be done with our

sins, but to be done with the world also. All this is involved in the

doctrine of the cross. Well, therefore, might the apostle say, "God

forbid that I should glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ,

by which the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." Paul

looked upon the world as a thing which ought to be nailed to the cross;

and the world, in having crucified Christ, had crucified all who

belonged to him. Hence there is a double crucifixion, as regards the

believer and the world; and were this fully entered into, it would

prove the utter impossibility of ever amalgamating the two. Beloved

reader, let us deeply, honestly, and prayerfully ponder these things;

and may the Holy Ghost give us the ability to enter into the full

practical power of both the phases of the cross of Christ.

We shall now return to our theme.

We are not told how long Abraham tarried at Haran; yet God graciously

waited on his servant until, freed from nature's clog, he could fully

obey his command. There was, however, no accommodation of that command

to the circumstances of nature. This would never do. God loves his

servants too well to deprive them of the full blessedness of entire

obedience. There was no fresh revelation to Abraham's soul during the

time of his sojourn in Haran. It is well to see this. We must act up to

the light already communicated, and then God will give us more. "To him

that hath shall more be given." This is God's principle. Still we must

remember that God will never _drag_ us along the path of true-hearted

discipleship. This would greatly lack the moral excellency which

characterizes all the ways of God. He does not _drag_ but _draw_ us

along the path which leads to ineffable blessedness in himself; and if

we do not see that it is for our real advantage to break through all

the barriers of nature, in order to respond to God's call, we forsake

our own mercies. But alas! our hearts little enter into this. We begin

to calculate about the sacrifices, the hindrances, and the

difficulties, instead of bounding along the path, in eagerness of soul,

as knowing and loving the One whose call has sounded in our ears.

There is much true blessing to the soul in every step of obedience, for

obedience is the fruit of faith; and faith puts us into living

association and communion with God himself. Looking at obedience in

this light, we can easily see how distinctly it is marked off, in every

feature of it from legality. This latter sets a man with the entire

burden of his sins on him to serve God by keeping the law; hence the

soul is kept in constant torture, and so far from running in the path

of obedience, it has not even taken the very first step. True

obedience, on the contrary, is simply the manifestation or outflow of a

new nature communicated in grace. To this new nature God graciously

imparts precepts for its guidance; and it is perfectly certain that the

divine nature guided by the divine precepts can never by any

possibility resolve itself into legality. What constitutes legality is

the old nature taking up God's precepts and essaying to carry them out.

To attempt to regulate man's fallen nature by God's pure and holy law,

is as useless and absurd as any thing can be. How could fallen nature

breathe an atmosphere so pure? Impossible. Both the atmosphere and the

nature must be divine.

But not only does the blessed God impart a divine nature to the

believer, and guide that nature by his heavenly precepts, he also sets

before it suited hopes and expectations. Thus, in Abraham's case, "_The

God of glory_ appeared unto him." And for what purpose? To set before

his soul's vision an attractive object,--"a land that _I_ will show

thee." This was not compulsion but attraction. God's land was in the

judgment of the new nature,--the judgment of faith, far better than Ur

or Charran: and albeit he had not seen the land, yet, inasmuch as it

was God's land, faith judged it to be worth having, and not only worth

having, but also fully worth the surrender of present things. Hence we

read, "by faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place

which he should after receive as an inheritance obeyed, and he went

out, not knowing whither he went." That is to say, "he walked by faith,

not by sight." Though he had not seen with his eyes, he believed with

his heart, and faith became the great moving spring in his soul. Faith

rests on a far more solid ground than the evidence of our senses, and

that is the word of God. Our senses may deceive us, but God's word

never can.

Now, the entire truth of the divine nature, together with the precepts

which guide and the hopes which animate it, the whole of the divine

doctrine respecting these things is completely thrown overboard by the

system of legalism. The legalist teaches that we must surrender earth

in order to get heaven. But how can fallen nature surrender that to

which it is allied? How can it be attracted by that in which it sees

no charms? Heaven has no charms for nature; yea, it is the very last

place it would like to be found in. Nature has no taste for heaven, its

occupations, or its occupants. Were it possible for nature to find

itself there, it would be miserable. Thus, then, nature has no ability

to surrender earth, and no desire to get heaven. True, it would be glad

to escape hell and its ineffable torment, gloom, and misery. But the

desire to escape hell, and the desire to get heaven, spring from two

very different sources. The former may exist in the old nature; the

latter can only be found in the new. Were there no "lake of fire," and

no "worm" in hell, nature would not so shrink from it. The same

principle holds good in reference to all of nature's pursuits and

desires. The legalist teaches that we must give up sin before we can

get righteousness. But nature cannot give up sin; and as to

righteousness, it absolutely hates it. True, it would like a certain

amount of religion; but it is only with the idea that religion will

preserve it from hell fire. It does not love religion because of its

introducing the soul to the present enjoyment of God and his ways.

How different from all this miserable system of legalism, in every

phase thereof, is "the gospel of the glory of the blessed God!" This

gospel reveals God himself coming down in perfect grace, and putting

away sin by the sacrifice of the cross; putting it away, in the most

absolute manner, on the ground of eternal righteousness, inasmuch as

Christ suffered for it, having been made sin for us. And not only is

God seen putting away sin, but also imparting a new life, even the

risen life of his own risen, exalted, and glorified Son, which life

every true believer possesses, in virtue of being linked, in God's

eternal counsels, with him who was nailed to the cross, but is now on

the throne of the Majesty in the heavens. This nature, as we have

remarked, he graciously guides by the precepts of his holy word,

applied in power by the Holy Ghost. He also animates it by the

presentation of indestructible hopes. He reveals, in the distance, "the

hope of glory"--"a city which hath foundations"--"a better country,

that is an heavenly"--the "many mansions" of the Father's house, on

high--"golden harps"--"green palms," and "white robes"--"a kingdom

which cannot be moved"--everlasting association with himself, in those

regions of bliss and light, where sorrow and darkness can never

enter--the unspeakable privilege of being led, throughout the countless

ages of eternity, "beside the still waters, and through the green

pastures" of redeeming love. How different is all this from the

legalist's notion! Instead of calling upon me to educate and manage, by

the dogmas of systematic religion, an irremediably corrupt nature, in

order that thereby I may surrender an earth that I love, and attain to

a heaven which I hate, he, in infinite grace, and on the ground of

Christ's accomplished sacrifice, bestows upon me a nature which can

enjoy heaven, and a heaven for that nature to enjoy; and, not only a

heaven, but himself the unfailing spring of all heaven's joy.

Such is God's most excellent way. Thus he dealt with Abraham. Thus he

dealt with Saul of Tarsus. Thus he deals with us. The God of glory

showed Abraham a better country than Ur or Charran. He showed Saul of

Tarsus a glory so bright, that it closed his eyes to all earth's

brightest glories, and caused him to count them all "but dung," that he

might win that blessed One who had appeared to him, and whose voice had

spoken to his inmost soul. He saw a heavenly Christ in glory; and,

throughout the remainder of his course, notwithstanding the weakness of

the earthen vessel, that heavenly Christ and that heavenly glory

engrossed his whole soul.

"And Abram passed through the land unto the place of Sichem, unto the

plain of Moreh. And the Canaanite was then in the land." The presence

of the Canaanite in God's land would, necessarily, prove a trial to

Abraham. It would be a demand upon his faith and hope, an exercise of

heart, a trial of patience. He had left Ur and Charran behind, and come

into the country of which "the God of glory" had spoken to him, and

there he finds "the Canaanite." But there, too, he finds the Lord. "And

the Lord appeared unto Abram, and said, Unto thy seed will I give this

land." The connection between the two statements is beautiful and

touching. "The Canaanite was then in the land," and lest Abraham's eye

should rest upon the Canaanite, the present possessor of the land,

Jehovah appears to him as the One who was going to give the land to him

and to his seed forever. Thus Abraham was taken up with the Lord, and

not with the Canaanite. This is full of instruction for us. The

Canaanite in the land is the expression of the power of Satan; but,

instead of being occupied with Satan's power to keep us out of the

inheritance, we are called to apprehend Christ's power to bring us in.

"We wrestle, not with flesh and blood, ... but with spiritual

wickedness in the heavenlies." The very sphere into which we are called

is the sphere of our conflict. Should this terrify us? By no means. We

have Christ there,--a victorious Christ, in whom we are "more than

conquerors." Hence, instead of indulging "a spirit of fear," we

cultivate a spirit of worship. "And there builded he an _altar_ unto

the Lord, who appeared unto him." "And he removed from thence unto a

mountain on the east of Bethel, and pitched his _tent_." The altar and

the tent give us the two great features of Abraham's character. A

worshipper of God, a stranger in the world,--most blessed

characteristics! Having nothing on earth,--having our all in God.

Abraham had "not so much as to set his foot upon;" but he had God to

enjoy, and that was enough.

However, faith has its trials, as well as its answers. It is not to be

imagined that the man of faith, having pushed out from the shore of

circumstances, finds it all smooth and easy sailing. By no means. Again

and again he is called to encounter rough seas and stormy skies; but it

is all graciously designed to lead him into deeper and more matured

experience of what God is to the heart that confides in him. Were the

sky always without a cloud and the ocean without a ripple, the believer

would not know so well the God with whom he has to do; for, alas! we

know how prone the heart is to mistake the peace of circumstances for

the peace of God. When every thing is going on smoothly and pleasantly,

our property safe, our business prosperous, our children and servants

carrying themselves agreeably, our residence comfortable, our health

excellent, every thing, in short, just to our mind, how apt we are to

mistake the peace which reposes upon such circumstances for that peace

which flows from the realized presence of Christ. The Lord knows this;

and, therefore, he comes in, in one way or another, and stirs up the

nest, that is, if we are found nestling in circumstances, instead of in

himself.

But, again, we are frequently led to judge of the rightness of a path

by its exemption from trial, and _vice versa_. This is a great mistake.

The path of obedience may often be found most trying to flesh and

blood. Thus, in Abraham's case, he was not only called to encounter the

Canaanite, in the place to which God had called him, but there was also

"a famine in the land." Should he, therefore, have concluded that he

was not in his right place? Assuredly not. That would have been to

judge according to the sight of his eyes, the very thing which faith

never does. No doubt it was a deep trial to the heart, an inexplicable

puzzle to nature; but to faith it was all plain and easy. When Paul was

called into Macedonia, almost the first thing he had to encounter was

the prison at Philippi. This, to a heart out of communion, would have

seemed a death-blow to the entire mission. But Paul never questioned

the rightness of his position. He was enabled to "sing praises" in the

midst of it all, assured that every thing was just as it should be: and

so it was; for in the prison of Philippi was one of God's vessels of

mercy, who could not, humanly speaking, have heard the gospel, had not

the preachers of it been thrust into the very place where he was. The

devil was made, in spite of himself, the instrument of sending the

gospel to the ears of one of God's elect.

Now, Abraham should have reasoned in the same way, in reference to the

famine. He was in the very place in which God had set him; and,

evidently, he received no direction to leave it. True, the famine was

there; and, moreover, Egypt was at hand, offering deliverance from

pressure; still the path of God's servant was plain. _It is better to

starve in Canaan, if it should be so, than live in luxury in Egypt._ It

is better far to suffer in God's path, than be at ease in Satan's. It

is better to be poor with Christ, than rich without him. "Abraham had

sheep, and oxen, and he asses, and men servants, and maid servants, and

she asses, and camels." Substantial proofs, the natural heart would,

doubtless, say, of the rightness of his step, in going down to Egypt.

But, ah! he had no altar,--no communion. Egypt was not the place of

God's presence. He lost more than he gained by going thither. This is

ever the case. Nothing can ever make up for the loss of our communion

with God. Exemption from temporary pressure, and the accession of the

greatest wealth are but poor equivalents for what one loses by

diverging a hair's breadth from the straight path of obedience. How

many of us can add our amen to this! How many, in order to avoid the

trial and exercise connected with God's path, have slipped aside into

the current of this present evil world, and thereby brought leanness

and barrenness, heaviness and gloom, into their souls! It may be they

have, to use the common phrase, "made money," increased their store,

obtained the world's favor, been "entreated well" by its Pharaohs,

gotten a name and a position amongst men; but are these a proper

equivalent for joy in God, communion, liberty of heart, a pure,

uncondemning conscience, a thankful, worshipping spirit, vigorous

testimony, and effectual service? Alas, for the man that can think so!

And yet all the above incomparable blessings have been often sold for a

little ease, a little influence, a little money.

Christian reader, let us watch against the tendency to slip aside from

the narrow, yet safe, the _sometimes_ rough, yet _always_ pleasant,

path of simple, wholehearted obedience. Let us keep guard--jealous,

careful guard--over "faith and a pure conscience," for which nothing

can compensate. Should trial come, let us, instead of turning aside

into Egypt, wait on God; and thus the trial, instead of proving an

occasion of stumbling, will prove an opportunity for obedience. Let us,

when tempted to slip into the course of the world, remember him "who

gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from this present

evil world, according to the will of God, and our Father." (Gal. i. 4.)

If such was his love for us, and such his sense of the true character

of this present world, that he gave himself, in order to deliver us

from it, shall we deny him by plunging again into that from which his

cross has forever delivered us? May God Almighty forbid! May he keep us

in the hollow of his hand, and under the shadow of his wings, until we

see Jesus as he is, and be like him, and with him forever.

CHAPTER XIII.

The opening of this chapter presents to us a subject of immense

interest to the heart,--namely, the true character of divine

restoration. When the child of God has, in any way, declined in his

spiritual condition, and lost his communion, he is in great danger,

when conscience begins to work, of failing in the apprehension of

divine grace, and of stopping short of the proper mark of divine

restoration. Now, we know that God does every thing in a way entirely

worthy of himself. Whether he creates, redeems, converts, restores, or

provides, he can only act like himself. What is worthy of himself is,

ever and only, his standard of action. This is unspeakably happy for

us, inasmuch as we would ever seek to "limit the Holy One of Israel;"

and in nothing are we so prone to limit him as in his restoring grace.

In the case now before us, we see that Abraham was not only delivered

out of Egypt, but brought back "unto the place where his tent had been

_at the beginning_, ... unto the place of the altar which he had made

there _at the first_: and there Abraham called on the name of the

Lord." Nothing can satisfy God, in reference to a wanderer or

backslider, but his being entirely restored. We, in the

self-righteousness of our hearts, might imagine that such an one should

take a lower place than that which he had formerly occupied; and so he

should, were it a question of his merit or his character; but, inasmuch

as it is, altogether, a question of grace, it is God's prerogative to

fix the standard of restoration; and his standard is set forth in the

following passage: "If thou wilt return, O Israel, return _to me_." It

is thus that God restores, and it would be unworthy of himself to do

any thing else. He will either not restore at all, or else restore in

such a way as to magnify and glorify the riches of his grace. Thus,

when the leper was brought back, he was actually conducted "to the door

of the tabernacle of the congregation." When the prodigal returned, he

was set down at the table with the father. When Peter was restored, he

was able to stand before the men of Israel and say, "ye denied the Holy

One, and the Just,"--the very thing which he had done himself, under

the most aggravated circumstances. In all these cases, and many more

which might be adduced, we see the perfectness of God's restoration. He

always brings the soul back to himself, in the full power of grace and

the full confidence of faith. "If thou wilt return, return _to me_."

"Abraham came unto the place where his tent had been at _the

beginning_."

Then, as to the moral effect of divine restoration, it is most deeply

practical. If legalism gets its answer in the _character_ of the

restoration, antinomianism gets its answer in the _effect_ thereof. The

restored soul will have a very deep and keen sense of the evil from

which it has been delivered, and this will be evidenced by a jealous,

prayerful, holy, and circumspect spirit. We are not restored in order

that we may, the more lightly, go and sin again, but rather that we may

"go and sin no more." The deeper my sense of the _grace_ of divine

restoration, the deeper will be my sense of the _holiness_ of it also.

This principle is taught and established throughout all scripture; but

especially in two well-known passages, namely, Psalms xxiii. 3, and 1

John i. 9: "He restoreth my soul: _he leadeth me in the paths of

righteousness_ for his name's sake." And again: "If we confess our

sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to _cleanse

us from all unrighteousness_." The proper path for a divinely-restored

soul is "the path of righteousness." In other words, having tasted

divine grace we walk in righteousness. To talk of grace, while walking

in unrighteousness, is, as the apostle says, to turn "the grace of our

God into lasciviousness." If "grace reigns through righteousness unto

eternal life," it also manifests itself in righteousness, in the

outflow of that life. The grace that forgives us our sins, cleanses us

from all unrighteousness. Those things must never be separated. When

taken together, they furnish a triumphant answer to the legalism and

antinomianism of the human heart.

But there was a deeper trial for Abraham's heart than even the famine,

namely, that arising from the company of one who evidently was not

walking in the energy of personal faith, nor in the realization of

personal responsibility. It seems plain that Lot was, from the very

beginning, borne onward rather by Abraham's influence and example, than

by his own faith in God. This is a very common case. If we look down

along the history of the people of God, we can easily see how that, in

every great movement produced by the Spirit of God, certain individuals

have attached themselves thereto who were not personally participators

of the power which had produced the movement. Such persons go on for a

time, either as a dead weight upon the testimony, or an active

hindrance to it. Thus, in Abraham's case, the Lord called him to leave

his kindred; but he brought his kindred with him. Terah retarded him in

his movement, until death took him out of the way. Lot followed him

somewhat farther, until "the lusts of other things" overpowered him,

and he entirely broke down.

The same thing is observable in the great movement of Israel out of

Egypt. "A mixed multitude" followed them, and caused much defilement,

weakness, and sorrow; for we read, in Numbers xi., "the mixed multitude

that was among them fell a lusting: and the children of Israel _also_

wept again, and said, who shall give us flesh to eat." So also, in the

early days of the Church; and not only so, but in every revival which

has taken place therein, down to the present day, many have been acted

upon by various influences, which, not being divine, proved evanescent;

and the persons so acted upon sooner or later gave way, and found their

proper level. Nothing will endure but that which is of God. I must

realize the link between me and the living God. I must know myself as

one called of him into the position which I occupy, else I shall have

no stability, and exhibit no consistency therein. It will not do for us

to follow in the track of other people, merely because it is their

track. God will graciously give each a path to walk in, a sphere to

move in, and a responsibility to fulfil; and we are bound to know our

calling and the functions thereof, that, by his grace ministered to our

souls daily, we may work therein effectually to his glory. It matters

not what our measure may be, provided it be what God hath dealt to us.

We may have "five talents," or we may have but "one:" still, if we use

the "one," with our eye fixed on the Master, we shall be just as sure

to hear from his gracious lips the words, "well done," as if we had

used the "five." This is encouraging. Paul, Peter, James, and John, had

each his peculiar measure, his specific ministry; and so with all: none

needs to interfere with another. A carpenter has a saw and a plane, a

hammer and a chisel; and he uses each as he needs it. Nothing can be

more worthless than imitation. If, in the natural world, we look at the

various orders of creation, we see no imitation. All have their proper

sphere, their proper functions. And if it be thus in the natural world,

how much more in the spiritual. The field is wide enough for all. In

every house there are vessels of various sizes and various shapes. The

master wants them all.

Let us, therefore, my beloved reader, search and see whether we are

walking under a divine or a human influence; whether our faith stands

in the wisdom of man, or in the power of God; whether we are doing

things because others have done them, or because the Lord has called us

to do them; whether we are merely propped up by the example and

influence of our fellow, or sustained by personal faith in God. These

are serious inquiries. It is, no doubt, a happy privilege to enjoy the

fellowship of our brethren; but if we are propped up by them, we shall

soon make shipwreck. So, also, if we go beyond our measure, our action

will be strained and unsightly, uneasy and unnatural. It is very easy

to see when a man is working in his place, and according to his

measure. All affectation, assumption, and imitation, is contemptible

in the extreme. Hence, though we cannot be great, let us be honest; and

though we cannot be brilliant, let us be genuine. If a person goes

beyond his depth, without knowing how to swim, he will surely flounder.

If a vessel put out to sea, without being sea-worthy and in trim, it

will surely be beaten back into harbor, or lost. Lot left "Ur of the

Chaldees," but he fell in the plains of Sodom. The call of God had not

reached his heart, nor the inheritance of God filled his vision. Solemn

thought! may we ponder it deeply! Blessed be God, there is a path for

each of his servants, along which shines the light of his approving

countenance, and to walk therein should be our chief joy. His approval

is enough for the heart that knows him. True, we may not always be able

to command the approval and concurrence of our brethren; we may

frequently be misunderstood; but we cannot help these things. "The day"

will set all this to rights, and the loyal heart can contentedly wait

for that day, knowing that then "every man shall have praise of God."

But it may be well to examine, more particularly, what it was that

caused Lot to turn aside off the path of public testimony. There is a

crisis in every man's history at which it will assuredly be made

manifest on what ground he is resting, by what motives he is actuated,

and by what objects he is animated. Thus it was with Lot. He did not

die at Charran; but he fell at Sodom. The _ostensible_ cause of his

fall was the strife between his herdmen and those of Abraham; but the

fact is, when one is not really walking with a single eye and purified

affections, he will easily find a stone to stumble over. If he does

not find it at one time, he will at another. If he does not find it

here, he will find it there. In one sense, it makes little matter as to

what may be the apparent cause of turning aside; the _real_ cause lies

underneath, far away, it may be, from common observation, in the hidden

chambers of the heart's affections and desires, where _the world_, in

some shape or form, has been sought after. The strife between the

herdmen might have been easily settled without spiritual damage to

either Abraham or Lot. To the former, indeed, it only afforded an

occasion for exhibiting the beautiful power of faith, and the moral

elevation, the heavenly vantage-ground, on which faith ever sets the

possessor thereof. But to the latter it was an occasion for exhibiting

the thorough worldliness of his heart. The strife no more produced the

worldliness in Lot than it produced the faith in Abraham; it only

manifested, in the case of each, what was really there.

Thus it is always: controversies and divisions arise in the Church of

God, and many are stumbled thereby, and driven back into the world, in

one way or another. They then lay the blame on the controversy and

division, whereas the truth is, that these things were only the means

of developing the real condition of the soul, and the bent of the

heart. The world was in the heart, and _would be_ reached by some

_route_ or another; nor is there much of moral excellency exhibited in

blaming men and things, when the root of the matter lies within. It is

not that controversy and division are not to be deeply deplored:

assuredly they are. To see brethren contending in the very presence of

"the Canaanite and the Perizzite," is truly lamentable and

humiliating. Our language should ever be, "Let there be no strife, I

pray thee, between me and thee ... for we are brethren." Still, why did

not Abraham make choice of Sodom? Why did not the strife drive him into

the world? Why was it not an occasion of stumbling to him? Because he

looked at it from God's point of view. No doubt, he had a heart that

could be attracted by "well-watered plains," just as powerfully as

Lot's heart; but then he did not allow his own heart to choose. He

first let Lot take his choice, and then left God to choose for him.

This was heavenly wisdom. This is what faith ever does: it allows God

to fix its inheritance, as it also allows him to make it good. It is

always satisfied with the portion which God gives. It can say, "the

lines are fallen to me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly

heritage." It matters not where "the lines" fall; for, in the judgment

of faith, they always "fall in pleasant places," just because God casts

them there.

The man of faith can easily afford to allow the man of sight to take

his choice. He can say, "If thou wilt take the left hand, then I will

go to the right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to

the left." What beautiful disinterestedness and moral elevation we have

here! and yet what security! It is certain that, let nature range where

it will, let it take its most comprehensive grasp, its boldest and

highest flight, there is never the slightest danger of its laying its

hand upon faith's treasure. It will seek its portion in quite an

opposite direction. Faith lays up its treasure in a place which nature

would never dream of examining and, as to its approaching thereto, it

could not if it would; and it would not if it could. Hence, therefore,

faith is perfectly safe, as well as beautifully disinterested, in

allowing nature to take its choice.

What, then, did Lot choose when he got his choice. He chose Sodom. The

very place that was about to be judged. But how was this? Why select

such a spot? Because he looked at the outward appearance, and not at

the intrinsic character and future destiny. The intrinsic character was

"_wicked_." Its future destiny was "_judgment_,"--to be destroyed by

"fire and brimstone out of heaven." But, it may be said, "Lot knew

nothing of all this." Perhaps not, nor Abraham either; but God did; and

had Lot allowed God to "choose his inheritance for him," he certainly

would not have chosen a spot that he himself was about to destroy. He

did not, however. He judged for himself. Sodom suited him, though it

did not suit God. His eye rested on the "well-watered plains," and his

heart was attracted by them. "He pitched his tent _toward_ Sodom." Such

is nature's choice! "Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present

world." Lot forsook Abraham for the same reason. He left the place of

testimony, and got into the place of judgment.

"And the Lord said unto Abram, after that Lot was separated from him,

Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art,

northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward; for all the land

which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed forever." The

"strife" and "separation," so far from damaging Abraham's spiritual

condition, rather brought out, in full relief, his heavenly principles,

and strengthened in his soul the life of faith. Moreover, it cleared

the prospect for him, and delivered him from the company of one who

could only prove a dead weight. Thus it worked for good, and yielded a

harvest of blessing. It is at once most solemn, and yet most

encouraging, to bear in mind that, in the long run, men find their

proper level. Men who run unsent, break down, in one way or another,

and find their way back to that which they profess to have left. On the

other hand, those who are called of God, and lean on him, are, by his

grace, sustained. "Their path is as the shining light, which shineth

more and more unto the perfect day." The thought of this should keep us

humble, watchful, and prayerful. "Let him that thinketh he standeth

take heed lest he fall," for truly, "there are first that shall be

last, and there are last that shall be first." "He that endureth to the

end, the same shall be saved," is a principle which, whatever be its

specific application, has a wide moral bearing. Many a vessel has

sailed out of harbor in gallant style, with all its canvas spread, amid

cheering and shouting, and with many fair promises of a first-rate

passage; but, alas! storms, waves, shoals, rocks, and quicksands, have

changed the aspect of things; and the voyage that commenced with hope

has ended in disaster. I am here only referring to the path of service

and testimony, and by no means to the question of a man's eternal

acceptance in Christ. This latter, blessed be God, does not in any wise

rest with ourselves, but with him who has said, "I give unto my sheep

eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them

out of my hand." But do we not know that many Christians set out on

some special course of service or testimony, under the impression that

they are called of God thereto, and after a time they break down?

Unquestionably. And, further, very many set out in the profession of

some special principle of action, respecting which they have not been

divinely taught, or the consequences of which they have not maturely

considered in the presence of God, and, as a necessary result, they

themselves have been found after a time in the open violation of those

very principles. All this is deplorable, and should be carefully

avoided. It tends to weaken the faith of God's elect, and causes the

enemies of the truth to speak reproachfully. Each one should receive

his call and his commission directly from the Master himself. All whom

Christ calls into any special service, he will, infallibly, maintain

therein, for he never sent any one a warfare at his own charges. But if

we run unsent, we shall not only be left to _learn_ our folly, but to

_exhibit_ it.

Yet it is not that any one should set himself up as the impersonation

of any principle, or as an example of any special character of service

or testimony. God forbid. This would be the most egregious folly and

empty conceit. It is a teacher's business to set forth God's Word; and

it is a servant's business to set forth the Master's will; but while

all this is fully understood and admitted, we must ever remember the

deep need there is of counting the cost, ere we undertake to build a

tower or go forth to war. Were this more seriously attended to, there

would be far less confusion and failure in our midst. Abraham was

called of God from Ur to Canaan, and hence, God led him forth on the

way. When Abraham tarried at Charran, God waited for him; when he

went down into Egypt, he restored him; when he needed guidance, he

guided him; when there was a strife and a separation, he took care of

him; so that Abraham had only to say, "Oh, how great is thy goodness

which _thou hast laid up_ for them that fear thee; which thou hast

wrought for them that trust in thee, before the sons of men." He lost

nothing by the strife. He had his tent and his altar before; and he had

his tent and his altar afterwards. "Then Abram removed _his tent_ and

came and dwelt in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and built

there _an altar_ unto the Lord." Lot might choose Sodom; but as for

Abraham, he sought and found his all in God. There was no altar in

Sodom. Alas! all who travel in that direction are in quest of something

quite different from that. It is never the worship of God, but the love

of the world that leads them thither. And even though they should

attain their object, what is it? How does it end? Just thus: "He gave

them their request, but sent leanness into their souls."

CHAPTER XIV.

We are here presented with an historic record of the revolt of five

kings from under the hand of Chedorlaomer, and a battle consequent

thereon. The Spirit of God can occupy himself with the movements of

"kings and their armies," when such movements are in anywise connected

with the people of God. In the present case, Abraham personally had

nothing whatever to do with the revolt or its consequences. His "tent

and altar" were not likely to furnish an occasion for the declaration

of war, nor yet to be much affected by the outbreak or issue thereof.

The proper portion of a heavenly man could never, by any possibility,

tempt the cupidity nor excite the ambition of the kings and conquerors

of this world.

However, although Abraham was not affected by the battle of "four kings

with five," yet Lot was. His position was such as to involve him in the

whole affair. So long as we are enabled, through grace, to pursue the

path of simple faith, we shall be thrown completely outside the range

of this world's circumstances; but if we abandon our high and holy

position as those whose "citizenship is in heaven," and seek a name, a

place, and a portion in the earth, we must expect to participate in

earth's convulsions and vicissitudes. Lot had taken up his abode in the

plains of Sodom, and was, therefore, deeply and sensibly affected by

the wars of Sodom. It must ever be thus. It is a bitter and a painful

thing for the child of God to mingle himself with the children of this

world. He can never do so without serious damage to his own soul, as

well as to the testimony with which he is entrusted. What testimony was

Lot in Sodom? A very feeble one, indeed, if one at all. The very fact

of his settling himself there was the death-blow to his testimony. To

have spoken a word against Sodom and its ways would have been to

condemn himself,--for why was he there? But in truth, it does not by

any means appear that to testify for God formed any part of his object

in "pitching his tent toward Sodom." Personal and family interests

seem to have been the leading springs of action in his heart; and

though, as Peter tells us, "his righteous soul was vexed with the

filthy conversation of the wicked, from day to day," yet had he but

little power to act against it, even if inclined so to do.

It is important, in a practical point of view, to see that we cannot be

governed by two objects at the same time. For example, I cannot have

before my mind as objects my worldly interests and the interests of the

gospel of Christ. If I go to a town for the purpose of setting-up in

business, then, clearly, business is my object, and not the gospel. I

may, no doubt, propose to myself both to attend to business and to

preach the gospel as well; but, all the while, either one or the other

must be my object. It is not that a servant of Christ may not most

blessedly and effectually preach the gospel and attend to business

also: he assuredly may; but, in such a case, the gospel will be his

object, and not business. Paul preached the gospel and made tents; but

the gospel was his object, and not tent-making. If I make business my

object, the gospel preaching will speedily prove to be formal and

unprofitable work; yea, it will be well if it be not made use of to

sanctify my covetousness. The heart is very treacherous; and it is

often truly astonishing to see how it deceives us when we desire to

gain some special point. It will furnish, in abundance, the most

plausible reasons; while the eyes of our understanding are so blinded

by self-interest or unjudged wilfulness, as to be incapable of

detecting their plausibility. How frequently do we hear persons

defending a continuance in a position which they admit to be wrong,

on the plea that they thereby enjoy a wider sphere of usefulness. To

all such reasoning, Samuel furnishes a pointed and powerful reply: "To

obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams."

Which was--Abraham or Lot--able to do the more good? Does not the

history of those two men prove beyond a question that the most

effectual way to serve the world is to be faithful to it, by separating

from and testifying against it?

But be it remembered that genuine separation from the world can only be

the result of communion with God. I may seclude myself from the world,

and constitute myself the centre of my being, like a monk or a cynic;

but separation to God is a totally different thing. The one chills and

contracts, the other warms and expands. That drives us in upon

ourselves; this draws us out in love and interest for others. That

makes self and its interests our centre; this makes God and his glory

our centre. Thus, in Abraham's case, we see that the very fact of his

separation enabled him to render effectual service to one who had

involved himself in trouble by his worldly ways. "When Abraham heard

that _his brother_ was taken captive, he armed his trained servants,

born in his own house, three hundred and eighteen, and pursued them

unto Dan ... and he brought back all the goods, and also brought again

his brother Lot, and his goods, and the women also, and the people."

Lot was Abraham's brother, after all; and brotherly love must act. "A

brother is born for adversity;" and it often happens that a season of

adversity softens the heart, and renders it susceptible of kindness,

even from one with whom we have had to part company; and it is

remarkable that, while in verse 12 we read, "they took Lot, _Abraham's

brother's son_," yet in verse 14 we read, "when Abram heard that _his

brother_ was taken captive." The claims of a brother's trouble are

answered by the affections of a brother's heart. This is divine.

Genuine faith, while it always renders us independent, never renders us

indifferent. It will never wrap itself up in its fleece while a brother

shivers in the cold. There are three things which faith does: it

"purifies the heart;" it "works by love;" and it "overcomes the world;"

and all these results of faith are beautifully exhibited in Abraham on

this occasion. His heart was purified from Sodom's pollutions; he

manifested genuine love to Lot, his brother; and, finally, he was

completely victorious over the kings. Such are the precious fruits of

faith,--that heavenly, Christ-honoring principle.

However, the man of faith is not exempt from the assaults of the enemy;

and it frequently happens that immediately after a victory one has to

encounter a fresh temptation. Thus it was with Abraham. "The king of

Sodom went out to meet him, after his return from the slaughter of

Chedorlaomer, and of the kings that were with him." There was,

evidently, a very deep and insidious design of the enemy in this

movement. "The king of Sodom" presents a very different thought, and

exhibits a very different phase of the enemy's power, from what we have

in "Chedorlaomer and the kings that were with him." In the former, we

have rather the hiss of the serpent; in the latter, the roar of the

lion; but whether it were the serpent or the lion, the Lord's grace

was amply sufficient; and most seasonably was this grace ministered to

the Lord's servant at the exact moment of need. "And Melchizedek, king

of Salem, brought forth bread and wine, and he was the priest of the

most high God. And he blessed him, and said, Blessed be Abram of the

most high God, possessor of heaven and earth; and blessed be the most

high God, which hath delivered thine enemies into thy hand." We have

here to remark, first, the peculiar point at which Melchizedek enters

the scene; and, secondly, the double effect of his ministry. He did not

come forth when Abraham was in pursuit of Chedorlaomer, but when the

king of Sodom was in pursuit of Abraham. This makes a great moral

difference. A deeper character of communion was needed to meet the

deeper character of conflict.

And then as to the ministry,--the "bread and wine" refreshed Abraham's

spirit, after his conflict with Chedorlaomer; while the benediction

prepared his heart for his conflict with the king of Sodom. Abraham was

a conqueror, and yet he was about to be a combatant, and the royal

priest refreshed the conqueror's spirit, and fortified the combatant's

heart.

It is peculiarly sweet to observe the manner in which Melchizedek

introduces God to the thoughts of Abraham. He calls him "the most high

God, possessor of heaven and earth;" and not only so, but pronounces

Abraham "blessed" of that same God. This was effectually preparing him

for the king of Sodom. A man who was "blessed" of God did not need to

take aught from the enemy; and if "the possessor of heaven and earth"

filled his vision, "the goods" of Sodom could have but little

attraction. Hence, as might be expected, when the king of Sodom made

his proposal, "Give me the persons and take the goods to thyself,"

Abraham replies, "I have lift up my hand unto the Lord, the most high

God, the possessor of heaven and earth, that I will not take from a

thread even to a shoelatchet, and that I will not take any thing that

is thine, lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abram rich." Abraham

refuses to be enriched by the king of Sodom. How could he think of

delivering Lot from the power of the world, if he himself were governed

thereby? The only true way in which to deliver another is to be

thoroughly delivered myself. So long as I am in the fire, it is quite

impossible I can pluck another out of it. The path of separation is the

path of power, as it is also the path of peace and blessedness.

The world in all its various forms is the great instrument of which

Satan makes use, in order to weaken the hands and alienate the

affections of the servants of Christ. But, blessed be God, when the

heart is true to him, he always comes in to cheer, to strengthen, and

to fortify, at the right time. "The eyes of the Lord run to and fro

throughout the whole earth, to show himself strong in the behalf of

them whose heart is perfect toward him." (2 Chron. xvi. 9.) This is an

encouraging truth for our poor, timid, doubting, faltering hearts.

Christ will be our strength and shield. He will "cover our heads in the

day of battle;" he will "teach our hands to war and our fingers to

fight;" and finally "he will bruise Satan under our feet shortly." All

this is unspeakably comforting to a heart sincerely desirous of making

way against "the world, the flesh, and the devil." May the Lord keep

our hearts true to himself in the midst of the ensnaring scene around

us.

CHAPTER XV.

"After these things, the word of the Lord came unto Abram in a vision,

saying, Fear not, Abram. I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great

reward." The Lord would not suffer his servant to be a loser, by

rejecting the offers of this world. It was infinitely better for

Abraham to find himself hidden behind Jehovah's shield, than to take

refuge beneath the patronage of the king of Sodom; and to be

anticipating his "exceeding great reward," than to accept "the goods"

of Sodom. The position into which Abraham is put in the opening verse

of our chapter, is beautifully expressive of the position into which

every soul is introduced by the faith of Christ. Jehovah was his

"shield," that he might rest in him; Jehovah was his "reward," that he

might wait for him. So with the believer now: he finds his present

rest, his present peace, his present security, all in Christ. No dart

of the enemy can possibly penetrate the shield which covers the weakest

believer in Jesus.

And then as to the future, Christ fills it. Precious portion! Precious

hope! A portion which can never be exhausted: a hope which will never

make ashamed. Both are infallibly secured by the counsels of God, and

the accomplished atonement of Christ. The present enjoyment thereof is

by the ministry of the Holy Ghost who dwells in us. This being the

case, it is manifest that if the believer is pursuing a worldly career,

or indulging in worldly or carnal desires, he cannot be enjoying either

the "shield" or the "reward." If the Holy Ghost is grieved, he will not

minister the enjoyment of that which is our proper portion, our proper

hope. Hence in the section of Abraham's history now before us, we see

that when he had returned from the slaughter of the kings and rejected

the offer of the king of Sodom, Jehovah rose before his soul in the

double character, as his "shield and his exceeding great reward." Let

the heart ponder this, for it contains a volume of deeply practical

truth. We shall now examine the remainder of the chapter.

In it we have unfolded to us the two great principles of sonship and

heirship. "And Abram said, Lord God, what wilt thou give me, seeing I

go _childless_, and the steward of my house is this Eliezer of

Damascus? And Abram said, Behold, thou hast given to me no _seed_: and

lo, one born in my house is mine _heir_." Abraham desired a son, for he

knew upon divine authority that his "seed" should inherit the land.

(Chap. xiii. 15.) Sonship and heirship are inseparably connected in the

thoughts of God. "He that shall come forth out of thine own bowels

shall be thine heir." Sonship is the proper basis of every thing; and

moreover it is the result of God's sovereign counsel and operation, as

we read in James, "of his own will begat he us." Finally, it is founded

upon God's eternal principle of resurrection. How else could it be?

Abraham's body was "dead;" wherefore, in his case, as in every other,

sonship must be in the power of resurrection. Nature is dead, and can

neither beget nor conceive aught for God. There lay the inheritance

stretching out before the patriarch's eye, in all its magnificent

dimensions; but where was the heir? Abraham's body and Sarah's womb

alike answered "_death_." But Jehovah is the God of resurrection, and,

therefore, a "dead body" was the very thing for him to act upon. Had

nature not been dead, God should have put it to death ere he could

fully show himself. The most suitable theatre for the living God is

that from which nature, with all its boasted powers and empty

pretensions, has been totally expelled by the sentence of death.

Wherefore, God's word to Abraham was, "look now toward heaven, and tell

the stars, if thou be able to number them; and he said unto him, So

shall thy seed be." When the God of resurrection fills the vision there

is no limit to the soul's blessing, for he who can quicken the dead,

can do any thing.

"And he believed in the Lord, and he counted it unto him for

righteousness." The imputation of righteousness to Abraham is here

founded upon his believing in the Lord as the Quickener of the dead. It

is in this character that he reveals himself in a world where death

reigns; and when a soul believes in him, as such, it is counted

righteous in his sight. This necessarily shuts man out, as regards his

co-operation, for what can he do in the midst of a scene of death? Can

he raise the dead? Can he open the gates of the grave? Can he deliver

himself from the power of death, and walk forth, in life and liberty,

beyond the limits of its dreary domain? Assuredly not. Well, then, if

he cannot do so, he cannot work out righteousness, nor establish

himself in the relation of sonship. "God is not the God of the dead,

but of the living," and, therefore, so long as a man is under the power

of death, and under the dominion of sin, he can neither know the

position of a son, nor the condition of righteousness. Thus, God alone

can bestow the adoption of sons, and he alone can impute righteousness,

and both are connected with faith in him as the One who raised up

Christ from the dead.

It is in this way that the apostle handles the question of Abraham's

faith, in Romans iv., where he says, "It was not written for his sake

alone, that it was imputed unto him; but for us also to whom it shall

be imputed, _if we believe on him that raised up Jesus our Lord from

the dead_." Here the God of resurrection is presented "to us also," as

the object of faith, and our faith in him as the alone ground of our

righteousness. If Abraham had looked up into heaven's vault, spangled

with innumerable stars, and then looked at "his own body now dead," how

could he ever grasp the idea of a seed as numerous as those stars?

Impossible. But he did not look at his own body, but at the

resurrection power of God; and, inasmuch as that was the power which

was to produce the seed, we can easily see that the stars of heaven and

the sand on the sea-shore are but feeble figures indeed; for what

natural object could possibly illustrate the effect of that power which

can raise the dead?

So also, when a sinner hearkens to the glad tidings of the gospel, were

he to look up to the unsullied light of the divine presence, and then

look down into the unexplored depths of his own evil nature, he might

well exclaim, How can I ever get thither? How can I ever be fit to

dwell in that light? Where is the answer? In himself? Nay, blessed be

God, but in that blessed One who travelled from the bosom to the cross

and the grave, and from thence to the throne, thus filling up in his

person and work all the space between those extreme points. There can

be nothing higher than the bosom of God,--the eternal dwelling-place of

the Son; and there can be nothing lower than the cross and the grave;

but, amazing truth! I find Christ in both. I find him in the bosom, and

I find him in the grave. He went down into death in order that he might

leave behind him in the dust thereof the full weight of his people's

sins and iniquities. Christ in the grave exhibits the end of every

thing human,--the end of sin,--the full limit of Satan's power. The

grave of Jesus forms the grand terminus of all. But resurrection takes

us beyond this terminus and constitutes the imperishable basis on which

God's glory and man's blessing repose forever. The moment the eye of

faith rests on a risen Christ, there is a triumphant answer to every

question as to sin, judgment, death, and the grave. The One who

divinely met all these is alive from the dead, and has taken his seat

at the right hand of the majesty in the heavens; and, not only so, but

the Spirit of that risen and glorified One, in the believer,

constitutes him a son. He is quickened out of the grave of Christ; as

we read, "and you, being dead in your sins, and the uncircumcision of

your flesh, hath he quickened together with him, having forgiven you

all trespasses." (Col. ii. 13.)

Hence, therefore, sonship, being founded on resurrection, stands

connected with perfect justification,--perfect righteousness,--perfect

freedom from every thing which could, in any wise, be against us. God

could not have us in his presence with sin upon us. He could not suffer

a single speck or stain of sin upon his sons and daughters. The father

could not have the prodigal at _his_ table with the rags of the far

country upon him. He could go forth to meet him in those rags. He could

fall upon his neck and kiss him, in those rags. It was worthy, and

beautifully characteristic of his grace so to do; but then to seat him

at his table in the rags would never do. The grace that brought the

father out to the prodigal, reigns through the righteousness which

brought the prodigal in to the father. It would not have been grace had

the father waited for the son to deck himself in robes of his own

providing; and it would not have been righteous to bring him in in his

rags; but both grace and righteousness shone forth in all their

respective brightness and beauty when the father went out and fell on

the prodigal's neck; but yet did not give him a seat at the table until

he was clad and decked in a manner suited to that elevated and happy

position. God, in Christ, has stooped to the very lowest point of man's

moral condition, that, by stooping he might raise man to the very

highest point of blessedness, in fellowship with himself. From all

this, it follows, that our sonship, with all its consequent dignities

and privileges, is entirely independent of us. We have just as little

to do with it as Abraham's dead body and Sarah's dead womb had to do

with a seed as numerous as the stars which garnish the heavens, or as

the sand on the sea-shore. It is all of God. God the Father drew the

plan, God the Son laid the foundation, and God the Holy Ghost raises

the superstructure; and on this superstructure appears the inscription,

"THROUGH GRACE, BY FAITH, WITHOUT WORKS OF LAW."

But, then, our chapter opens another most important subject to our

view, namely, _heirship_. The question of sonship and righteousness

being fully settled,--divinely and unconditionally settled,--the Lord

said unto Abraham, "I am the Lord that brought thee out of Ur of the

Chaldees, to give thee this land to inherit it." Here comes out the

great question of heirship, and the peculiar path along which the

chosen heirs are to travel ere they reach the promised inheritance. "If

children, then heirs, heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so

be that we _suffer_ with him, that we may be also glorified together."

Our way to the kingdom lies through suffering, affliction, and

tribulation; but, thank God, we can, by faith, say, "the _sufferings_

of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which

shall be revealed in us." And further, we know that "our _light

affliction_, which is but for a moment, worketh out for us a far more

exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Finally, "we glory in

_tribulation_, knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience

experience, and experience hope." It is a high honor and a real

privilege to be allowed to drink of our blessed Master's cup, and be

baptized with his baptism; to travel in blest companionship with him

along the road which leads directly to the glorious inheritance. The

Heir and the joint-heirs reach that inheritance by the pathway of

suffering.

But let it be remembered that the suffering of which the joint-heirs

participate has no penal element in it. It is not suffering from the

hand of infinite justice, because of sin; all that was fully met on the

cross, when the divine Victim bowed his sacred head beneath the stroke.

"Christ also hath _once_ suffered for sins," and that "once," was on

the tree and _nowhere else_. He never suffered for sins before, and he

never can suffer for sins again. "_Once_, in the end of the world, (the

end of all flesh,) hath he appeared to put away sin, by the sacrifice

of himself." "Christ was _once_ offered."

There are two ways in which to view a suffering Christ: first, as

bruised of Jehovah; secondly, as rejected of men. In the former, he

stood alone; in the latter, we have the honor of being associated with

him. In the former, I say, he stood alone, for who could have stood

with him? He bore the wrath of God alone; he travelled in solitude down

into "the rough valley that had neither been eared nor sown," and there

he settled forever the question of our sins. _With_ this we had nothing

to do, though _to_ this we are eternally indebted for every thing. He

fought the fight and gained the victory, alone; but he divides the

spoils with us. He was in solitude "in the horrible pit and miry clay;"

but directly he planted his foot on the everlasting "rock" of

resurrection, he associates us with him. He uttered the _cry_ alone; he

sings the "_new song_" in company. (Ps. xl. 2, 3.)

Now, the question is, Shall we refuse to suffer from the hand of man

_with him_ who suffered from the hand of God _for us_? That it is, in a

certain sense, a question is evident from the Spirit's constant use of

the word "if," in connection with it. "If so be we suffer with him."

"If we suffer, we shall reign." There is no such question as to

sonship. We do not reach the high dignity of sons through suffering,

but through the quickening power of the Holy Ghost, founded on the

accomplished work of Christ, according to God's eternal counsel. This

can never be touched. We do not reach the _family_ through suffering.

The apostle does not say, "that ye may be counted worthy of the

_family_ of God for which ye also suffer." They were in the family

already; but they were bound for the kingdom; and their road to that

kingdom lay through suffering; and not only so, but the measure of

suffering for the kingdom would be according to their devotedness and

conformity to the King. The more like we are _to_ him, the more we

shall suffer _with_ him; and the deeper our fellowship with him in the

suffering, the deeper will be our fellowship in the glory. There is a

difference between the _house_ of the Father and the kingdom of the

Son: in the former, it will be a question of capacity; in the latter, a

question of assigned position. All my children may be round my table,

but their enjoyment of my company and conversation will entirely depend

on their capacity. One may be seated on my knee, in the full enjoyment

of his relationship as a child, yet perfectly unable to comprehend a

word I say; another may exhibit uncommon intelligence in conversation,

yet not be a whit happier in his relationship than the infant on my

knee. But when it becomes a question of service for me, or public

identification with me, it is evidently quite another thing. This is

but a feeble illustration of the idea of capacity in the Father's

house, and assigned position in the kingdom of the Son.

But let it be remembered that our suffering with Christ is not a yoke

of bondage, but a matter of privilege; not an iron rule, but a gracious

gift; not constrained servitude, but voluntary devotedness. "Unto you

_it is given_, in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but

also to suffer for his sake." (Phil. i. 29.) Moreover, there can be

little doubt but that the real secret of suffering for Christ is to

have the heart's affections centred in him. The more I love Jesus, the

closer I shall walk with him, and the closer I walk with him, the more

faithfully I shall imitate him, and the more faithfully I imitate him,

the more I shall suffer with him. Thus it all flows from love to

Christ; and then it is a fundamental truth that "we love him because he

first loved us." In this, as in every thing else, let us beware of a

legal spirit; for it must not be imagined that a man, with the yoke of

legality round his neck, is suffering for Christ; alas! it is much to

be feared that such an one does not know Christ; does not know the

blessedness of sonship; has not yet been established in grace; is

rather seeking to reach the family by works of law, than to reach the

kingdom by the path of suffering.

On the other hand, let us see that we are not shrinking from our

Master's cup and baptism. Let us not profess to enjoy the benefits

which his cross secures, while we refuse the rejection which that cross

involves. We may rest assured that the road to the kingdom is not

enlightened by the sunshine of this world's favor, nor strewed with the

roses of its prosperity. If a Christian is advancing in the world, he

has much reason to apprehend that he is not walking in company with

Christ. "If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there

shall also my servant be." What was the goal of Christ's earthly

career? Was it an elevated, influential position in this world? By no

means. What then? He found his place on the cross, between two

condemned malefactors. "But," it will be said, "God was in this." True;

yet man was in it likewise; and this latter truth is what must

inevitably secure our rejection by the world, if only we keep in

company with Christ. The companionship of Christ, which lets me into

heaven, casts me out of earth; and to talk of the former, while I am

ignorant of the latter, proves there is something wrong. If Christ were

on earth, now, what would his path be? Whither would it tend? Where

would it terminate? Would we like to walk with him? Let us answer these

inquiries under the edge of the word, and under the eye of the

Almighty; and may the Holy Ghost make us faithful to an absent, a

rejected, a crucified Master. The man who walks in the Spirit will be

filled with Christ; and, being filled with him, he will not be occupied

with suffering, but with him for whom he suffers. If the eye is fixed

on Christ, the suffering will be as nothing in comparison with the

present joy and future glory.

The subject of heirship has led me much further than I intended; but I

do not regret it, as it is of considerable importance. Let us now

briefly glance at the deeply significant vision of Abraham as set forth

in the closing verses of our chapter. "And _when the sun was going

down_, a deep sleep fell upon Abram; and, lo, an horror of great

darkness fell upon him. And he said unto Abram, Know of a surety, that

thy seed shall be a stranger in a land that is not theirs, and shall

serve them; and they shall afflict them four hundred years: and also

that nation, whom they shall serve, will I judge: and afterward shall

they come out with great substance.... And it came to pass, that _when

the sun went down_, and it was dark, behold, a smoking furnace, and a

burning lamp that passed between those pieces."

The entire of Israel's history is summed up in those two figures, the

"furnace" and the "lamp." The former presents to us those periods of

their history in which they were brought into suffering and trial;

such, for example, as the long period of Egyptian bondage, their

subjection to the kings of Canaan, the Babylonish captivity, their

present dispersed and degraded condition. During all these periods they

may be considered as passing through the smoking furnace. (See Deut.

iv. 20; 1 Kings viii. 51; Isaiah xlviii. 10.)

Then, in the burning lamp, we have those points in Israel's eventful

history at which Jehovah graciously appeared for their relief, such as

their deliverance from Egypt, by the hand of Moses; their deliverance

from under the power of the kings of Canaan, by the ministry of the

various judges; their return from Babylon, by the decree of Cyrus; and

their final deliverance, when Christ shall appear in his glory. The

inheritance must be reached through the furnace; and the darker the

smoke of the furnace, the brighter and more cheering will be the lamp

of God's salvation.

Nor is this principle confined merely to the people of God as a whole;

it applies just as fully to individuals. All who have ever reached a

position of eminence as _servants_, have endured the furnace before

they enjoyed the lamp. "An horror of great darkness" passed across the

spirit of Abraham. Jacob had to endure twenty-one years of sore

hardship, in the house of Laban. Joseph found his furnace of affliction

in the dungeons of Egypt. Moses spent forty years in the desert. Thus

it must be with all God's _servants_. They must be "tried" first, that,

being found "faithful," they may be "put into the ministry." God's

principle, in reference to those who serve him, is expressed in those

words of St. Paul, "not a novice, lest being lifted up with pride, he

fall into the condemnation of the devil." (1 Tim. iii. 6.)

It is one thing to be _a child of God_; it is quite another to be _a

servant of Christ_. I may love my child very much, yet, if I set him to

work in my garden, he may do more harm than good. Why? Is it because he

is not a dear child? No; but because he is not a practised servant.

This makes all the difference. Relationship and office are distinct

things. Not one of the Queen's children is at present capable of being

her prime minister. It is not that all God's children have not

something to do, something to suffer, something to learn. Undoubtedly

they have; yet it ever holds good that _public service_ and _private

discipline_ are intimately connected in the ways of God. One who comes

forward much in public will need that chastened spirit, that matured

judgment, that subdued and mortified mind, that broken will, that

mellow tone, which are the sure and beautiful result of God's secret

discipline; and it will generally be found that those who take a

prominent place without more or less of the above moral qualifications,

will sooner or later break down.

Lord Jesus, keep thy feeble servants very near unto thine own most

blessed person, and in the hollow of thine hand!

CHAPTER XVI.

Here we find unbelief casting its dark shadow across the spirit of

Abraham, and again turning him aside for a season from the path of

simple, happy confidence in God. "And Sarai said unto Abram, Behold the

Lord hath restrained me from bearing." These words bespeak the usual

impatience of unbelief; and Abram should have treated them accordingly,

and waited patiently on the Lord for the accomplishment of his gracious

promise. The poor heart naturally prefers any thing to the attitude of

_waiting_. It will turn to any expedient, any scheme, any resource,

rather than be kept in that posture. It is one thing to believe a

promise at the first, and quite another thing to wait quietly for the

accomplishment thereof. We can see this distinction constantly

exemplified in a child. If I promise my child any thing, he has no idea

of doubting my word; but yet, I can detect the greatest possible

restlessness and impatience in reference to the time and manner of

accomplishment. And cannot the wisest sage find a true mirror in which

to see himself reflected in the conduct of a child? Truly so. Abraham

exhibits faith, in Chapter xv. and yet he fails in patience in Chapter

xvi. Hence the force and beauty of the apostle's word, in Hebrews vi.

"followers of them who through _faith and patience_ inherit the

promises." God makes a promise: faith believes it; hope anticipates it;

patience _waits_ quietly for it.

There is such a thing in the commercial world as "the present worth" of

a bill or promissory note; for if men are called upon to wait for their

money, they must be paid for waiting. Now, in faith's world, there is

such a thing as the _present_ worth of God's promise; and the scale by

which that worth is regulated is the heart's experimental knowledge of

God; for according to my estimate of God, will be my estimate of his

promise; and moreover, the subdued and patient spirit finds its rich

and full reward in waiting upon him for the accomplishment of all that

he has promised.

However, as to Sarah, the real amount of her word to Abraham is this,

"The Lord has failed me; it may be, my Egyptian maid will prove a

resource for me." Any thing but God for a heart under the influence of

unbelief. It is often truly marvellous to observe the trifles to which

we will betake ourselves when once we have lost the sense of God's

nearness, his infallible faithfulness, and unfailing sufficiency. We

lose that calm and well-balanced condition of soul so essential to the

proper testimony of the man of faith; and, just like other people,

betake ourselves to any or every expedient, in order to reach the

wished-for end, and call that "a laudable use of means."

But it is a bitter thing to take ourselves out of the place of

absolute dependence upon God. The consequences must be disastrous. Had

Sarah said, "Nature has failed me, but God is my resource," how

different it would have been! This would have been her proper ground;

for nature really had failed her. But then it was nature in one shape,

and therefore she wished to try nature in another. She had not learnt

to look away from nature in every shape. In the judgment of God and of

faith, nature in Hagar was no better than nature in Sarah. Nature,

whether young or old, is alike to God; and, therefore, alike to faith;

but, ah! we are only in the power of this truth when we are

experimentally finding our living centre in God himself. When the eye

is taken off that glorious Being, we are ready for the meanest device

of unbelief. It is only when we are consciously leaning on the only

true, the only wise, the living God, that we are enabled to look away

from every creature stream. It is not that we shall despise God's

instrumentality. By no means. To do so would be recklessness and not

faith. Faith values the instrument, not because of itself, but because

of him who uses it. Unbelief looks only at the instrument, and judges

of the success of a matter by the apparent efficiency thereof, instead

of by the sufficiency of him who, in grace, uses it. Like Saul, who,

when he looked at David, and then looked at the Philistine, said, "Thou

art not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him; for thou

art but a youth." Yet the question in David's heart was, not as to

whether he was able, but whether Jehovah was able.

The path of faith is a very simple and a very narrow one. It neither

deifies the means on the one hand, nor despises it on the other. It

simply values it, so far as it is evidently God's means, and no

further. There is a vast difference between God's using the creature to

minister to me, and my using it to shut him out. This difference is not

sufficiently attended to. God used the ravens to minister to Elijah,

but Elijah did not use them to exclude God. If the heart be really

trusting in God, it will not trouble itself about his means. It waits

on him, in the sweet assurance that by what means soever he pleases, he

will bless, he will minister, he will provide.

Now, in the case before us, in this chapter, it is evident that Hagar

was not God's instrument for the accomplishment of his promise to

Abraham. He had promised a son, no doubt, but he had not said that this

son should be Hagar's; and, in point of fact, we find from the

narrative, that both Abraham and Sarah "multiplied their sorrow," by

having recourse to Hagar; for "when she saw that she had conceived, her

mistress was despised in her eyes." This was but the beginning of those

multiplied sorrows which flowed from hastening after nature's

resources. Sarah's dignity was trampled down by an Egyptian bond-woman,

and she found herself in the place of weakness and contempt. The only

true place of dignity and power is the place of felt weakness and

dependence. There is no one so entirely independent of all around as

the man who is really walking by faith, and waiting only upon God; but

the moment a child of God makes himself a debtor to nature or the

world, he loses his dignity, and will speedily be made to feel his

loss. It is no easy task to estimate the loss sustained by diverging,

in the smallest measure, from the path of faith. No doubt, all those

who walk in that path will find trial and exercise; but one thing is

certain, that the blessings and joys which peculiarly belong to them

are infinitely more than a counterpoise; whereas, when they turn aside,

they have to encounter far deeper trial, and naught but that.

"And Sarai said, My wrong be _upon thee_." When we act wrong, we are

ofttimes prone to lay the blame on some one else. Sarah was only

reaping the fruit of her own proposal, and yet she says to Abraham, "My

wrong be upon thee;" and then, with Abraham's permission, she seeks to

get rid of the trial which her own impatience had brought upon her.

"But Abram said unto Sarai, Behold thy maid is in thy hand; do to her

as it pleaseth thee. And when Sarai dealt hardly with her, she fled

from her face." This will not do. "The bond-woman" cannot be got rid of

by hard treatment. When we make mistakes, and find ourselves called

upon to encounter the results thereof, we cannot counteract those

results by carrying ourselves with a high hand. We frequently try this

method, but we are sure to make matters worse thereby. If we have done

wrong, we should humble ourselves and confess the wrong, and wait on

God for deliverance. But there was nothing like this manifested in

Sarah's case. Quite the reverse. There is no sense of having done

wrong; and, so far from waiting on God for deliverance, she seeks to

deliver herself in her own way. However, it will always be found that

every effort which we make to rectify our errors, previous to the full

confession thereof, only tends to render our path more difficult. Thus

Hagar had to return, and give birth to her son, which son proved to be

not the child of promise at all, but a very great trial to Abraham and

his house, as we shall see in the sequel.

Now, we should view all this in a double aspect; first, as teaching us

a direct practical principle of much value; and secondly, in a

doctrinal point of view. And, first, as to the direct, practical

teaching, we may learn that when, through the unbelief of our hearts,

we make mistakes, it is not all in a moment, nor yet by our own

devices, we can remedy them. Things must take their course. "Whatsoever

a man soweth that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh

shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit,

shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." This is an unalterable

principle, meeting us again and again on the page of inspiration, and

also on the page of our personal history. Grace forgives the sin and

restores the soul, but that which is sown must be reaped. Abraham and

Sarah had to endure the presence of the bond-woman and her son for a

number of years, and then get rid of them in God's way. There is

peculiar blessedness in leaving ourselves in God's hands. Had Abraham

and Sarah done so on the present occasion, they would never have been

troubled with the presence of the bond-woman and her son; but, having

made themselves debtors to nature, they had to endure the consequences.

But, alas! we are often "like a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke," when

it would be our exceeding comfort to "behave and quiet ourselves as a

child that is weaned of his mother." No two figures can be more

opposite than a stubborn bullock and a weaned child. The former

represents a person senselessly struggling under the yoke of

circumstances, and rendering his yoke all the more galling by his

efforts to get rid of it; the latter represents one meekly bowing his

head to every thing, and rendering his portion all the sweeter by

entire subjection of spirit.

And now, as to the doctrinal view of this chapter. We are authorized to

look at Hagar and her son, as figures of the covenant of works, and all

who are thereby brought into bondage. (See Gal. iv. 22-25.) "The flesh"

is, in this important passage, contrasted with "promise;" and thus we

not only get the divine idea as to what the term "flesh" implies, but

also as to Abraham's effort to obtain the seed by means of Hagar,

instead of resting in God's "promise." The two covenants are

allegorized by Hagar and Sarah, and are diametrically opposite the one

to the other. The one gendering to bondage, inasmuch as it raised the

question as to man's competency "to do" and "not to do," and made life

entirely dependent upon that competency. "The man that doeth these

things shall live in them." This was the Hagar-covenant. But the

Sarah-covenant reveals God as the God of promise, which promise is

entirely independent of man, and founded upon God's willingness and

ability to fulfil it. When God makes a promise there is no "if"

attached thereto. He makes it unconditionally, and is resolved to

fulfil it; and faith rests in him in perfect liberty of heart. It needs

no effort of nature to reach the accomplishment of a divine promise.

Here was, precisely, where Abraham and Sarah failed. They made an

effort of nature to reach a certain end, which end was absolutely

secured by a promise of God. This is the grand mistake of unbelief. By

its restless activity, it raises a hazy mist around the soul, which

hinders the beams of the divine glory from reaching it. "He could there

do no mighty works, because of their unbelief." One great

characteristic virtue of faith is, that it ever leaves the platform

clear for God to show himself; and truly, when he shows himself, man

must take the place of a happy worshipper.

The error into which the Galatians allowed themselves to be drawn, was

the addition of something of nature to what Christ had already

accomplished for them by the cross. The gospel which had been preached

to them and which they had received, was the simple presentation of

God's absolute, unqualified, and unconditional, grace. "Jesus Christ

had been evidently set forth crucified among them." This was not merely

promise divinely made, but promise divinely and most gloriously

accomplished. A crucified Christ settled every thing in reference both

to God's claims and man's necessities. But the false teachers upset all

this, or sought to upset it, by saying, "Except ye be circumcised after

the manner of Moses, ye cannot be saved." This, as the apostle teaches

them, was in reality "making Christ of none effect." Christ must either

be a _whole_ Saviour, or _no_ Saviour at all. The moment a man says,

"Except _ye_ be this or that, ye cannot be saved," he totally subverts

Christianity; for in Christianity I find God coming down to me _just as

I am_, a lost, guilty, self-destroyed sinner; and coming moreover with

a full remission of _all_ my sins, and a full salvation from my lost

estate, all perfectly wrought by himself on the cross.

Hence, therefore, a man who tells me, "You must be so and so, in order

to be saved," robs the cross of all its glory, and robs me of all my

peace. If salvation depends upon our being or doing aught, we shall

inevitably be lost. Thank God it does not; for the great fundamental

principle of the gospel is, that God is ALL,--man is NOTHING. It is not

a mixture of God and man. It is all of God. The peace of the gospel

does not repose in part on Christ's work, and in part on man's work; it

reposes _wholly_ on Christ's work, because that work is

perfect,--perfect forever; and it renders all who put their trust in it

as perfect as itself.

Under the law, God as it were stood still to see what man could do; but

in the gospel God is seen acting, and as for man, he has but to "stand

still and see the salvation of God." This being so, the inspired

apostle hesitates not to say to the Galatians, "Christ is become of no

effect unto you; whosoever of you are justified by law ([Greek: en

nomo]), ye are fallen from grace." If man has any thing to do in the

matter, God is shut out; and if God is shut out, there can be no

salvation, for it is impossible that man can work out a salvation by

that which proves him a lost creature; and then if it be a question of

_grace_, it must be all grace. It cannot be half grace, half law. The

two covenants are perfectly distinct. It cannot be half Sarah and half

Hagar. It must be either the one or the other. If it be Hagar, God has

nothing to do with it; and if it be Sarah, man has nothing to do with

it. Thus it stands throughout. The law addresses man, tests him, sees

what he is really worth, proves him a ruin, and puts him under the

curse; and not only puts him under it, but keeps him there so long as

he is occupied with it,--so long as he is alive. "The law hath dominion

over a man so long as he liveth;" but when he is dead, its dominion

necessarily ceases so far as he is concerned, though it still remains

in full force to curse every _living_ man.

The gospel, on the contrary, assuming man to be lost, ruined, dead,

reveals God as he is,--the Saviour of the lost,--the Pardoner of the

guilty,--the Quickener of the dead. It reveals him, not as exacting

aught from man, (for what could be expected from one who has died a

bankrupt?) but as exhibiting his own independent grace in redemption.

This makes a material difference and will account for the extraordinary

strength of the language employed in the Epistle to the Galatians: "I

marvel"--"Who hath bewitched you?"--"I am afraid of you"--"I stand in

doubt of you"--"I would they were even cut off that trouble you." This

is the language of the Holy Ghost, who knows the value of a full Christ

and a full salvation; and who also knows how essential the knowledge of

both is to a lost sinner. We have no such language as this in any other

epistle; not even in that to the Corinthians, although there were some

of the grossest disorders to be corrected amongst them. All human

failure and error can be corrected by bringing in God's grace; but the

Galatians, like Abraham in this chapter, were going away from God, and

returning to the flesh. What remedy could be devised for this? How can

you correct an error which consists in departing from that which alone

can correct any thing? To fall from grace, is to get back under the

law, from which nothing can ever be reaped but "the CURSE." May the

Lord establish our hearts in his own most excellent grace!

CHAPTER XVII.

Here we have God's remedy for Abraham's failure set before us. "And

when Abram was ninety years old and nine, the Lord appeared unto Abram,

and said unto him, _I am the Almighty God_: walk before _me_, and be

thou _perfect_."[15] This is a most comprehensive verse. It is very

evident that Abraham had not been walking before the Almighty God when

he adopted Sarah's expedient in reference to Hagar. It is faith alone

that can enable a man to walk up and down before an Almighty One.

Unbelief will ever be thrusting in something of self, something of

circumstances, second causes, and the like, and thus the soul is robbed

of the joy and peace, the calm elevation, and holy independence, which

flow from leaning upon the arm of One who can do every thing. I believe

we deeply need to ponder this. God is not such an abiding reality to

our souls as he ought to be, or as he would be, were we walking in more

simple faith and dependence.

"Walk before _me_." This is true power. To walk thus, implies our

having nothing whatever before our hearts save God himself. If I am

founding my expectation upon men and things, I am not walking before

God, but before men and things. It is of the utmost importance to

ascertain who or what I have before me as an object. To what am I

looking? On whom or what am I leaning, at this moment? Does God

_entirely_ fill my future? Have men or circumstances aught to do

therein? Is there any space allotted to the creature? The only way in

which to get above the world is to walk by faith, because faith so

completely fills the scene with God, that there is no room for the

creature,--no room for the world. If God fills up my entire range of

vision, I can see nothing else; and then I am able to say with the

Psalmist, "My soul, wait thou _only_ upon God; for my expectation is

from him. He _only_ is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence, I

shall not be moved." (Ps. lxii. 5, 6.) This word "only" is deeply

searching. Nature cannot say this. Not that it will, save when under

the direct influence of a daring and blasphemous skepticism, formally

shut out God altogether; but it, assuredly, cannot say, "_He only_."

Now, it is well to see that, as in the matter of salvation, so in all

the details of actual life, from day to day, God will not share his

glory with the creature. From first to last, it must be "he only;" and

this, too, in reality. It will not do to have the language of

dependence upon God on our lips, while our hearts are really leaning on

some creature resource. God will make all this fully manifest; he will

test the heart; he will put faith into the furnace. "Walk before me,

and be thou perfect." Thus it is we reach the proper point. When the

soul is enabled, by grace, to get rid of all its fondly-cherished

creature expectations, then, and only then, it is prepared to let God

act; and when he acts all must be well. He will not leave any thing

undone. He will perfectly settle every thing on behalf of those who

simply put their trust in him. When unerring wisdom, omnipotent power,

and infinite love combine, the confiding heart may enjoy unruffled

repose. Unless we can find some circumstance too big or too little for

"the Almighty God," we have no proper base on which to found a single

anxious thought. This is an amazing truth, and one eminently calculated

to put all who believe it into the blessed position in which we find

Abraham in this chapter. When God had, in effect, said to him, "Leave

_all_ to me and I will settle it for you, beyond your utmost desires

and expectations; the seed and the inheritance, and every thing

pertaining thereto, will be fully and everlastingly settled, according

to the covenant of the Almighty God,"--then "_Abram fell on his face_."

Truly blessed attitude! the only proper one for a thoroughly empty,

feeble, and unprofitable sinner to occupy in the presence of the living

God, the Creator of heaven and earth, the possessor of all things, "the

Almighty God."

"And God talked with him." It is when man is in the dust that God can

talk to him in grace. Abraham's posture here is the beautiful

expression of entire prostration, in the presence of God, in the sense

of utter weakness and nothingness. And this, be it observed, is the

sure precursor of God's revelation of himself. It is when the creature

is laid low that God can show himself in the unclouded effulgence of

what he is. He will not give his glory to another. He can reveal

himself, and allow man to worship in view of that revelation; but until

the sinner takes his proper place, there can be no unfolding of the

divine character. How different is Abraham's attitude in this and the

preceding chapter! There, he had nature before him; here, he has the

Almighty God. There, he was an actor; here, he is a worshipper. There,

he was betaking himself to his own and Sarah's contrivance; here, he

leaves himself and his circumstances, his present and his future, in

God's hands, and allows him to act in him, for him, and through him.

Hence, God can say, "I will make"--"I will establish"--"I will

give"--"I will bless." In a word, it is all God and his actings; and

this is real rest for the poor heart that has learnt any thing of

itself.

The covenant of circumcision is now introduced. Every member of the

household of faith must bear in his body the seal of that covenant.

There must be no exception. "He that is born in thy house, and he that

is bought with thy money, must needs be circumcised: and my covenant

shall be in your flesh, for an everlasting covenant. And the

uncircumcised man-child, whose flesh of his foreskin is not

circumcised, that soul shall be cut off from his people: he hath broken

my covenant." We are taught in Romans iv., that circumcision was "a

seal of the righteousness of faith." "Abraham believed God, and it was

counted unto him for righteousness." Being thus counted righteous, God

set his "seal" upon him.

The seal with which the believer is now sealed is not a mark in the

flesh, but "that Holy Spirit of promise, whereby he is sealed unto the

day of redemption." This is founded upon his everlasting connection

with Christ, and his perfect identification with him, in death and

resurrection; as we read, in Colossians, "And ye are complete in him,

which is the head of all principality and power. In whom also ye are

_circumcised_ with the circumcision made without hands, in putting off

the body of the sins of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ;

buried with him in baptism, wherein also ye are risen with him, through

the faith of the operation of God who hath raised him from the dead.

And you, being dead in your sins and the uncircumcision of your flesh,

hath he quickened together with him, having forgiven you all

trespasses." This is a most glorious passage, unfolding to us the true

idea of what circumcision was meant to typify. Every believer belongs

to "the circumcision" in virtue of his living association with him who,

by his cross, has forever abolished every thing that stood in the way

of his church's perfect justification. There was not a speck of sin on

the conscience, nor a principle of sin in the nature of his people, for

which Christ was not judged on the cross; and they are now looked upon

as having died with Christ, lain in the grave with Christ, been raised

with Christ, perfectly accepted in him,--their sins, their iniquities,

their transgressions, their enmity, their uncircumcision, having been

entirely put away by the cross. The sentence of death has been written

on the flesh; but the believer is in possession of a new life, in union

with his risen Head in glory.

The apostle in the above passage teaches that the Church was quickened

out of the grave of Christ; and moreover, that the forgiveness of all

her trespasses is as complete, and as entirely the work of God, as was

the raising of Christ from the dead; and this latter, we know, was the

result of "God's mighty power," or, as it may be rendered, "according

to the energy of the might of his power" (Eph. i. 19),--a truly

wonderful expression, calculated to set forth the magnitude and glory

of redemption, as well as the solid basis on which it rests.

What rest--perfect rest--for the heart and conscience is here! What

full relief for the burdened spirit! _All_ our sins buried in the grave

of Christ,--not one--even the smallest--left out! God did this for us!

All that his searching eye could detect in us, he laid on the head of

Christ when he hung upon the cross! He judged him there and then,

instead of judging us, in hell forever! Precious fruit, this, of the

admirable, the profound, the eternal counsels of redeeming love! And we

are "sealed," not with a certain mark cut in our flesh, but with the

Holy Ghost. The entire household of faith is sealed thus. Such is the

dignity, the value, the changeless efficacy of the blood of Christ,

that the Holy Ghost--the Third Person of the eternal Trinity--can take

up his abode in all those who have put their trust therein.

And now, what remains for those who know these things, save to "be

steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord." Thus

may it be, O Lord, through the grace of thy Holy Spirit!

FOOTNOTES:

[15] I would here offer a remark as to the word "perfect." When Abraham

was called upon to be "perfect," it did not mean perfect to himself;

for this he never was, and never could be. It simply meant that he

should be perfect as regards the object before his heart,--that his

hopes and expectations were to be perfectly and undividedly centred in

the "Almighty God."

In looking through the New Testament, we find the word "perfect" used

in at least four distinct senses. In Matt. v. 48, we read, "Be ye

therefore _perfect_, even as your Father which is in heaven is

perfect." Here we learn from the context that the word "perfect" refers

to the principle of our walk. At verse 44, we read, "love your enemies,

... that ye may be the sons of your Father which is in heaven; for he

maketh the sun to rise upon the evil and the good, and sendeth rain

upon the just and the unjust." Hence to be "perfect" in the sense of

Matt. v. 48 is to act on a principle of grace toward all, even toward

those who are injurious and hostile. A Christian going to law, and

asserting or contending for his rights, is not "perfect as his Father;"

for his Father is dealing in _grace_, whereas he is dealing in

_righteousness_.

The question here is not as to the right or wrong of going to law with

worldly people (as to brethren, 1 Cor. vi. is conclusive). All I

contend for is, that a Christian so doing is acting in a character the

direct opposite to that of his Father; for assuredly he is not going to

law with the world. He is not now on a judgment-seat, but on a

mercy-seat--a throne of grace. He showers his blessings upon those who,

were he to go to law with them, should be in hell. Wherefore it is

plain that a Christian, when he brings a man before the judgment-seat,

is not "perfect as his Father which is in heaven is perfect."

At the close of Matt. xviii. we have a parable which teaches us that a

man who asserts his rights is ignorant of the true character and proper

effect of grace. The servant was not _unrighteous_ in demanding what

was due to him; but he was _ungracious_. He was totally unlike his

master. He had been forgiven ten thousand talents, and yet he could

seize his fellow by the throat for a paltry hundred pence. What was the

consequence? He was delivered to the tormentors. He lost the happy

sense of _grace_, and was left to reap the bitter fruits of having

asserted his _rights_, while being himself a subject of _grace_. And,

observe further, he was called "a _wicked_ servant," not because of

having owed "ten thousand talents," but because of not having forgiven

the "hundred pence." _The master_ had ample grace to settle the former,

but _he_ had not grace to settle the latter. This parable has a solemn

voice for all Christians going to law; for although in the application

of it, it is said, "so shall my heavenly Father do to you, if you from

your heart, forgive not every one _his brother_ their trespasses," yet

is the principle of general application, that a man acting in

righteousness will lose _the sense_ of grace.

In Hebrews ix. we have another sense of the term "perfect." Here, too,

the context settles the import of the word. It is "perfect, as

pertaining to the conscience." This is a deeply important use of the

term. The worshipper under the law never could have a perfect

conscience, for the simplest reason possible, because he never had a

perfect sacrifice. The blood of a bullock and a goat did well enough

_for a time_, but it could not do _forever_, and therefore could not

give a perfect conscience. Now, however, the weakest believer in Jesus

is privileged to have a perfect conscience. Why? Is it because he is a

_better man_ than the worshipper under the law? Nay; but because he has

gotten a _better sacrifice_. If Christ's sacrifice is perfect forever,

the believer's conscience is perfect forever. The two things

necessarily go together. For the Christian not to have a perfect

conscience is a dishonor to the sacrifice of Christ. It is tantamount

to saying that his sacrifice is only temporary, and not eternal in its

effect; and what is this but to bring it down to the level of the

sacrifices under the Mosaic economy.

It is very needful to distinguish between perfection in the flesh and

perfection as to conscience. To pretend to the former, is to exalt

_self_; to refuse the latter, is to dishonor Christ. The babe in Christ

should have a perfect conscience; whereas St. Paul had not, nor could

have, perfect flesh. The flesh is not presented in the word as a thing

which is to be perfected, but as a thing which has been crucified. This

makes a wide difference. The Christian has sin in him, but not _on_

him. Why? Because Christ who had no sin _in_ him, ever, had sin on him

when he was nailed to the cross.

Finally, in Phil. iii. we have two other senses of the word "perfect."

The apostle says, "not as though I had already attained, either were

already _perfect_;" and yet a little farther on he says, "Let as many

as be _perfect_ be thus minded." The former refers to the apostle's

full and everlasting conformity to Christ in glory. The latter refers

to our having Christ as the all-engrossing object before the heart's

affections.

CHAPTER XVIII.

This chapter affords a beautiful exemplification of the results of an

obedient, separated walk. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if

any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and sup

with him, and he with me." (Rev. iii. 20.) Again, we read, "Jesus

answered, and said unto him, If a man love me he will keep my words,

and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our

abode with him." (John xiv. 23.) From these passages, taken in

connection with our chapter, we learn that an obedient soul enjoys a

character of communion entirely unknown to one who moves in a worldly

atmosphere.

This does not touch, in the most remote manner, the question of

forgiveness or justification. All believers are clothed in the same

spotless robe of righteousness,--all stand in one common justification,

under the eye of God. The one life flows down from the Head in heaven

through all the members on earth. This is plain. The doctrine, in

reference to the above important points, is fully established in the

word; and has been, again and again, unfolded through the foregoing

pages of this volume. But we should remember that justification is one

thing, and the fruit thereof quite another. To be a child is one thing,

to be an obedient child is quite another. Now, a father loves an

obedient child, and will make such a child more the depositary of his

thoughts and plans. And is this not true, in reference to our heavenly

Father? Unquestionably. John xiv. 23, puts this quite beyond dispute;

and, moreover, it proves that for one to speak of loving Christ and not

to "keep his words," is hypocrisy. "If a man love me, he will keep my

words." Hence, if we are not keeping Christ's words, it is a sure proof

we are not walking in the love of his name. Love to Christ is proved by

doing the things which he commands, and not by merely saying, "Lord,

Lord." It is of very little avail to say, "I go, sir," while the heart

has no idea of going.

However, in Abraham we see one who, however he may have failed in

detail, was nevertheless characterized in the main by a close, simple,

and elevated walk with God; and in the interesting section of his

history now before us, we find him in the enjoyment of three special

privileges, namely, providing refreshment _for_ the Lord, enjoying full

communion _with_ the Lord, and interceding for others _before_ the

Lord. These are high distinctions; and yet are they only such as ever

result from an obedient, separated, holy walk. Obedience refreshes the

Lord, as being the fruit of his own grace in our hearts. We see in the

only perfect man that ever lived how he constantly refreshed and

delighted the Father. Again and again God bore testimony to him from

heaven, as his "beloved Son, in whom he was well pleased." The path of

Christ furnished a continual feast to heaven. His ways were ever

sending up a fragrant incense to the throne of God. From the manger to

the cross, he did always the things which pleased his Father. There was

no interruption, no variation, no salient point. He was the only

perfect One. "There only can the Spirit trace a perfect life below."

Here and there, as we look along the current of inspiration, we find

one and another who occasionally refreshed the mind of heaven. Thus, in

the chapter before us, we find the tent of the stranger at Mamre

affording refreshment to the Lord himself,--refreshment lovingly

offered and willingly accepted. (Ver. 1-8.)

Then we find Abraham enjoying high communion _with_ the Lord, first in

reference to his own personal interests, (ver. 9-15,) and secondly in

reference to the destinies of Sodom. (Ver. 16, 21.) What confirmation

to Abraham's heart in the absolute promise "_Sarah_ shall have a son!"

Yet this promise only elicited a laugh from Sarah, as it had elicited

one from Abraham in the preceding chapter.

There are two kinds of laughter spoken of in scripture. There is first

the laughter with which the Lord fills our mouth, when, at some trying

crisis, he appears in a signal manner for our relief. "When the Lord

turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream. Then

was our mouth filled with _laughter_, and our tongue with singing: then

said they among the heathen, the Lord hath done great things for them;

the Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad." (Ps.

cxxvi. 1, 2.)

Again, there is the laughter with which unbelief fills our mouths, when

God's promises are too magnificent for our narrow hearts to take in, or

the visible agency too small in our judgment for the accomplishment of

his grand designs. The first of these we are never ashamed or afraid to

avow. Zion's sons are not ashamed to say, "then was our mouth filled

with laughter." (Ps. cxxvi. 2.) When Jehovah makes us to laugh, we may

laugh heartily. "But Sarah denied, saying, I laughed not; for she was

afraid." Unbelief makes us cowards and liars; faith makes us bold and

truthful. It enables us to "come boldly," and to "draw near with true

hearts."

But, further, Abraham is made the depositary of God's thoughts and

counsels about Sodom. Though having nothing to do with it personally,

yet he was so near the Lord that he was let into his mind in reference

to it. The way to know the divine purposes about this present evil

world, is not to be mixed up with it in its schemes and speculations,

but to be entirely separated from it. The more closely we walk with

God, and the more subject we are to his word, the more we shall know of

his mind about every thing. I do not need to study the newspaper in

order to know what is going to happen in the world. God's word reveals

all I want to know. In its pure and sanctifying pages I learn all about

the character, the course, and the destiny of the world; whereas, if I

go to the men of the world for news, I may expect that the devil will

use them to cast dust in my eyes.

Had Abraham visited Sodom in order to obtain information about its

facts, had he applied to some of its leading intelligent men, to know

what they thought of Sodom's present condition and future prospects,

how would he have been answered? Doubtless they would have called his

attention to their agricultural and architectural schemes, the vast

resources of the country; they would have placed before his eyes one

vast, mingled scene of buying and selling, building and planting,

eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage. Doubtless, too,

they would never dream of judgment, and if any one had made mention

thereof, their mouths would have been filled with infidel laughter.

Hence, then, it is plain, that Sodom was not the place in which to

learn about Sodom's end. No; "the place, where Abraham stood before the

Lord," afforded the only proper point from whence to take in the whole

prospect. There he could stand entirely above the fogs and mists which

had gathered upon Sodom's horizon. There, in the clearness and calmness

of the divine presence, he could understand it all. And what use did he

make of his knowledge and his elevated position? How was he occupied in

the Lord's presence? The answer to these inquiries leads us to the

third special privilege enjoyed by our patriarch in this chapter,

namely,--