_A SUCCESSOR TO MOSES._
JOSHUA i. 2.
There are some men to whom it is almost impossible to find successors.
Men of imperial mould; Nature's primates, head and shoulders above
other men, born to take the lead. Not only possessed of great gifts
originally, but placed by Providence in situations that have
wonderfully expanded their capacity and made their five talents ten.
Called to be leaders of great movements, champions of commanding
interests, often gifted with an imposing presence, and with a magnetic
power that subdues opposition and kindles enthusiasm as if by magic.
What a bereavement when such men are suddenly removed! How poor in
comparison those who come next them, and from among whom successors
have to be chosen! When the Hebrews mourned the death of Samson, the
difference in physical strength between him and his brethren could not
have appeared greater than the intellectual and moral gulf appears
between a great king of men, suddenly removed, and the bereaved
children that bend helpless over his grave.
A feeling of this sort must have spread itself through the host of
Israel when it was known that Moses was dead. Speculation as to his
successor there could be none, for not only had God designated Joshua,
but before he died Moses had laid his hands upon him, and the people
had acknowledged him as their coming leader. And Joshua had already
achieved a record of no common order, and had been favoured with high
tokens of the Divine approval. Yet what a descent it must have seemed
from Moses to Joshua! From the man who had so often been face to face
with God, who had commanded the sea to make a way for the redeemed of
the Lord to pass over, who had been their legislator and their judge
ever since they were children, to whom they had gone in every
difficulty, and who for wisdom and disinterestedness had gained the
profound confidence of every one of them;--what a descent, we say, to
this son of Nun, known hitherto as but the servant of Moses--an
intrepid soldier, no doubt, and a man of unfaltering faith, but whose
name seemed as if it could not couple with that of their imperial
leader!
Well though Joshua did his work in after life, and bright though the
lustre of his name ultimately became, he never attained to the rank of
Moses. While the name of Moses is constantly reappearing in the
prophets, in the psalms, in the gospels, in the epistles, and in the
apocalypse, that of Joshua is not found out of the historical books
except in the speech of Stephen and that well-known passage in the
Hebrews (iv. 8), where the received version perplexes us by
translating it Jesus. But it was no disparagement of him that he was
so far surpassed by the man to whom, under God, the very existence of
the nation was due. And in some respects, Joshua is a more useful
example to us than Moses. Moses seems to stand half-way in heaven,
almost beyond reach of imitation. Joshua is more on our own level. If
not a man of surpassing genius, he commends himself as having made the
best possible use of his talents, and done his part carefully and
well.
The remark has been made that eras of great creative vigour are often
succeeded by periods dull and commonplace. The history of letters and
of the fine arts shows that bursts of artistic splendour like the
Renaissance, or of literary originality like the Augustan age in Roman
or the Elizabethan in English literature, are not followed by periods
of equal lustre. And the same phenomenon has often been found in the
Christian Church. In more senses than one the Apostles had no
successors. Who in all the sub-apostolic age was worthy even to untie
the latchet of Peter, or John, or Paul? This inferiority is so
manifest that had there been nothing else to guide the Church in
framing the canon of the New Testament, the difference between the
writings of the Apostles and their companions on the one hand, and of
men like Barnabas, Clement of Rome, Polycarp, Ignatius, and Hermes on
the other, would have sufficed to settle the question. So also at the
era of the Reformation. Hardly a country but had its star or its
galaxy of the first magnitude. Luther and Melancthon, Calvin and
Coligny, Farel and Viret, John à-Lasco and John Knox, Latimer and
Cranmer,--what incomparable men they were! But in the age that
followed what names can we find to couple with theirs?
Of other sections of the Church the same remark has been made, and
sometimes it has been turned to an unfair use. If in the second
generation, after a great outburst of power and grace, there are few
or no men of equal calibre, it does not follow that the glory has
departed, and that the Church is to droop her head, and wonder to what
unworthy course on her part the degeneracy is to be ascribed. We are
not to expect in such a case that the laws of nature will be set aside
to gratify our pride. We are to recognise a state of things which God
has ordained for wise purposes, although it may not be flattering to
us. We are to place ourselves in the attitude in which Joshua was
called to place himself when the curt announcement of the text as to
Moses was followed by an equally curt order to him--"Moses My servant
is dead; now therefore arise."
The question for Joshua is not whether he is a fit person to succeed
Moses. His mental exercise is not to compare himself with Moses, and
note the innumerable points of inferiority on every side. His attitude
is not to bow down his head like a bulrush, mourning over the departed
glory of Israel, grieving for the mighty dead, on whose like neither
he nor his people will ever look again. If there ever was a time when
it might seem excusable for a bereaved nation and a bereaved servant
to abandon themselves to a sense of helplessness, it was on the death
of Moses. But even at that supreme moment the command to Joshua is,
"Now therefore arise." Gird yourself for the new duties and
responsibilities that have come upon you. Do not worry yourself with
asking whether you are capable of doing these duties, or with vainly
looking within yourself for the gifts and qualities which marked your
predecessor. It is enough for you that God in His providence calls you
to take the place of the departed. If He has called you, He will equip
you. It is not His way to send men a warfare on their own charges. The
work to which He calls you is not yours but His. Remember He is far
more interested in its success than you can be. Think not of yourself,
but of Him, and go forth under the motto, "We will rejoice in Thy
salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners."
In many different situations of life we may hear the same exhortation
that was now addressed to Joshua. A wise, considerate, and honoured
father is removed, and the eldest son, a mere stripling, is called to
take his place, perhaps in the mercantile office or place of business,
certainly in the domestic circle. He is called to be the comforter and
adviser of his widowed mother, and the example and helper of his
brothers and sisters. Well for him when he hears a voice from heaven,
"Your father is dead; now therefore arise!" Rouse yourself for the
duties that now devolve upon you; onerous they may be and beyond your
strength, but not on that account to be evaded or repudiated; rather
to be looked on as spurs provided and designed by God, that you may
apply yourself with heart and soul to your duties, in the belief that
faithful and patient application shall not be without its reward!
Or it may be that the summons comes to some young minister as
successor to a father in Israel, whose ripe gifts and fragrant
character have won the confidence and the admiration of all. Or to
some teacher in a Sunday-school, where the man of weight, of wise
counsel, and holy influence has been suddenly snatched away. But be
the occasion what it may, the removal of any man of ripe character and
gifts always comes to the survivor with the Divine summons, "Now
therefore arise!" That is the one way in which you must try to improve
this dispensation; the world is poorer for the loss of his
gifts--learn you to make the most of yours!
It was no mean impression of Moses that God meant to convey by the
designation, "Moses My servant." It was not a high-sounding title,
certainly. A great contrast to the long list of honourable titles
sometimes engraved on men's coffins or on their tombs, or proclaimed
by royal herald or king-at-arms over departed kings or nobles. One of
the greatest of men has no handle to his name--he is simply Moses. He
has no titles of rank or office--he is simply "My servant." But true
greatness is "when unadorned adorned the most." Moses is a real man, a
man of real greatness; there is no occasion therefore to deck him out
in tinsel and gilt; he is gold to the core.
But think what is really implied in this designation, "My servant."
Even if Moses had not been God's servant in a sense and in a degree in
which few other men ever were, it would have been a glorious thing to
obtain that simple appellation. True indeed, the term "servant of God"
is such a hackneyed one, and often so little represents what it really
means, that we need to pause and think of its full import. There may
be much honour in being a servant. Even in our families and factories
a model servant is a rare and precious treasure. For a real servant is
one that has the interest of his master as thoroughly at heart as his
own, and never scruples, at any sacrifice of personal interest or
feeling, to do all that he can for his master's welfare. A true
servant is one of whom his master may say, "There is absolutely no
need for me to remind him what my interest requires; he is always
thinking of my interest, always on the alert to attend to it, and
there is not a single thing I possess that is not safe in his hands."
Does God possess many such servants? Who among us can suppose God
saying this of him? Yet this was the character of Moses, and in God's
eyes it invested him with singular honour. It was his distinction that
he was "faithful in all his house." His own will was thoroughly
subdued to the will of God. The people of whom God gave him charge
were dear to him as a right hand or a right eye. All personal
interests and ambitions were put far from him. To aggrandise himself
or to aggrandise his house never entered into his thoughts. Never was
self more thoroughly crucified in any man's breast. Beautiful and
delightful in God's eyes must have seemed this quality in Moses,--his
absolute disinterestedness, his sensibility to every hint of his
Master's will, his consecration of all he was and had to God, and to
his people for God's sake!
It was thus no unsuggestive word that God used of Moses, when He told
Joshua that "His servant" was dead. It was a significant indication of
what God had valued in Moses and now expected of Joshua. The one thing
for Joshua to remember about Moses is, that he was the servant of God.
Let him take pains to be the same; let him have his ear as open as
that of Moses to every intimation of God's will, his will as prompt to
respond, and his hand as quick to obey.
Was not this view of the glory of Moses as God's servant a foreshadow
of what was afterwards taught more fully and on a wider scale by our
Lord? "The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister,
and to give His life a ransom for many." Jesus sought to reverse the
natural notions of men as to what constitutes greatness, when He
taught that, instead of being measured by the number of servants who
wait on us, it is measured rather by the number of persons to whom we
become servants. And if it was a mark of Christ's own humiliation that
"He took on Him the form of a servant," did not this redound to His
highest glory? Was it not for this that God highly exalted Him and
gave Him a name that is above every name? Happy they who are content
to be GOD'S SERVANTS in whatsoever sphere of life He may place them;
seeking not their own, but always intent upon their Master's business!
And now Joshua must succeed Moses and be God's servant as he was. He
must aim at this as the one distinction of his life; he must seek in
every action to know what God would have him to do. Happy man if he
can carry out this ideal of life! No conflicting interests or passions
will distract his soul. His eye being single, his whole body will be
full of light. The power that nerves his arm will not be more
remarkable than the peace that dwells in his soul. He will show to all
future generations the power of a "lost will,"--not the suppression of
all desire, according to the Buddhist's idea of bliss, but all lawful
natural desires in happy and harmonious action, because subject to the
wise, holy, and loving guidance of the will of God.
Thus we see among the other paradoxes of His government, how God uses
death to promote life. The death of the eminent, the aged, the men of
brilliant gifts makes way for others, and stimulates their activity
and growth. When the champion of the forest falls the younger trees
around it are brought more into contact with the sunshine and fresh
air, and push up into taller and more fully developed forms. If none
of the younger growth attains the size of the champion, a great many
may be advanced to a higher average of size and beauty. If in the
second generation of any great religious movement few or none can
match the "mighties" of the previous age, there may be a general
elevation, a rise of level, an increase of efficiency among the rank
and file.
In many ways death enters into God's plans. Not only does it make way
for the younger men,[2] but it has a solemnizing and quickening effect
on all who are not hardened and dulled by the wear and tear of life.
[2] "Can death itself when seen in the light of this truth [the
adjustment of every being in animated nature to every other] be
denied to be an evidence of benevolence? I think not. The law of
animal generation makes necessary the law of animal death, if the
largest amount of animal happiness is to be secured. If there had
been less death there must also have been less life, and what life
there was must have been poorer and meaner. Death is a condition
of the prolificness of nature, the multiplicity of species, the
succession of generations, the co-existence of the young and the
old; and these things, it cannot reasonably be doubted, add
immensely to the sum of animal happiness."--FLINT'S "Theism," p.
251.
What a memorable event in the spiritual history of families is the
first sudden affliction, the first breach in the circle of loving
hearts! First, the new experience of intense tender longing, baffled
by the inexorable conditions of death; then the vivid vision of
eternity, the reality of the unseen flashing on them with living and
awful power, and giving an immeasurable importance to the question of
salvation; then the drawing closer to one another, the forswearing of
all animosities and jealousies, the cordial desire for unbroken peace
and constant co-operation; and if it be the father or the mother that
has been taken, the ambition to be useful,--to be a help not a burden
to the surviving parent, and to do what little they can of what used
to be their father's or their mother's work. Death becomes actually a
quickener of the vital energies; instead of a withering influence, it
drops like the gentle dew, and becomes the minister of life.
And death is not alone among the destructive agencies that are so
often directed to life-giving ends. What a remarkable place is that
which is occupied by Pain among God's instruments of good! How many
are there who, looking back on their lives, have to confess, with a
mixture of sadness and of joy, that it is their times of greatest
suffering that have been the most decisive in their lives,--marked by
their best resolutions,--followed by their greatest advance! And it
sometimes would seem as if the acuter the suffering the greater the
blessing. How near God seems at times to come to the height of cruelty
when really He is overflowing with love! He seems to select the very
tenderest spots on which to inflict His blows, the very tenderest and
purest affections of the heart. It is a wonderful triumph of faith and
submission when the sufferer stands firm and tranquil amidst it all.
And still more when he can find consolation in the analogy which was
supplied by God's own act,--"He that spared not His own Son, but
delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely
give us all things?"
And this brings us to our last application. Our Lord Himself, by a
beautiful analogy in nature, showed the connection, in the very
highest sense, between death and life--"Except a grain of wheat fall
into the earth and die, it abideth alone; but if it die it beareth
much fruit." "Without shedding of blood there is no remission of sin."
When Jesus died at Calvary, the headquarters of death became the
nursery of life. The place of a skull, like the prophet's valley of
dry bones, gave birth to an exceeding great army of living men. Among
the wonders that will bring glory to God in the highest throughout
eternity, the greatest will be this evolution of good from evil, of
happiness from pain, of life from death. And even when the end comes,
and death is swallowed up of victory, and death and hell are cast
into the lake of fire, there will abide with the glorified a lively
sense of the infinite blessing that came to them from God through the
repulsive channel of death, finding its highest expression in that
anthem of the redeemed--"THOU WAS SLAIN, AND HAST REDEEMED US TO GOD
BY THY BLOOD."