'The Lord of Hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our Refuge.'
--PSALM xlvi. 11.
Some great deliverance, the details of which we do not know, had been
wrought for Israel, and this psalmist comes forth, like Miriam with her
choir of maidens, to hymn the victory. The psalm throbs with exultation,
but no human victor's name degrades the singer's lips. There is only one
Conqueror whom he celebrates. The deliverance has been 'the work of the
Lord'; the 'desolations' that have been made on the 'earth' 'He has
made.' This great refrain of the song, which I have chosen for my text,
takes the experience of deliverance as a proof in act of an astounding
truth, and as a hope for the future. 'The Lord of hosts is with us; the
God of Jacob is our Refuge.'
There is in these words a significant duplication of idea, both in
regard to the names which are given to God, and to that which He is
conceived as being to us; and I desire now simply to try to bring out
the force of the consolation and strength which lie in these two
epithets of His, and in the double wonder of His relation to us men.
I. First, then, I ask you to look at the twin thoughts of God that are
here. 'The Lord of hosts ... The God of Jacob.'
Now, with regard to the former of these grand names, it may be observed
that it does not occur in the earliest stages of Revelation as recorded
in the Old Testament. The first instance in which we find it is in the
song of Hannah in the beginning of the first Book of Samuel; and it
re-appears in the Davidic psalms and in psalms and prophecies of later
date.
What 'hosts' are they of which God is the Lord? Is that great title a
mere synonym for the half-heathenish idea of the 'God of battles'? By no
means. True! He is the Lord of the armies of Israel, but the hosts which
the Psalmist sees ranged in embattled array, and obedient to the command
of the great Captain, are far other and grander than any earthly armies.
If we would understand the whole depth and magnificent sweep of the idea
enshrined in this name, we cannot do better than recall one or two other
Scripture phrases. For instance, the account of the Creation in the Book
of Genesis is ended by, 'Thus the heavens and the earth were finished,
and all the host of them.' Then, remember that, throughout the Old
Testament, we meet constantly with the idea of the celestial bodies as
being 'the hosts of heaven.' And, still further, remember how, in one of
the psalms, we hear the invocation to 'all ye His hosts, ye ministers of
His that do His pleasure,' 'the angels that excel in strength,' to
praise and bless Him. If we take account of all these and a number of
similar passages, I think we shall come to this conclusion, that by that
title, 'the Lord of hosts,' the prophets and psalmists meant to express
the universal dominion of God over the whole universe in all its
battalions and sections, which they conceived of as one ranked army,
obedient to the voice of the great General and Ruler of them all.
So the idea contained in the name is precisely parallel with that to
which the heathen centurion in the Gospels had come, by reflecting upon
the teaching of the legion in which he himself commanded, when he said,
'I am a man under authority, having servants under me; and I say to this
one, Go, and he goeth; to another, Come, and he cometh; to another, Do
this, and he doeth it--speak Thou the word!' To him Jesus Christ was
Captain of the Lord's hosts, and Ruler of all the ordered forces of the
universe. The Old Testament name enshrines the same idea. The universe
is an ordered whole. Science tells us that. Modern thought emphasises
it. But how cruel, relentless, crushing, that conception may be unless
we grasp the further thought which is presented in this great Name, and
see, behind all the play of phenomena, the one Will which is the only
power in the universe, and sways and orders all besides! The armies of
heaven and every creature in the great _Cosmos_ are the servants of this
Lord. Then we can stand before the dreadful mysteries and the all but
infinite complications of this mighty Whole, and say, 'These are His
soldiers, and He is their Captain, the Lord of hosts.'
Next we turn, by one quick bound, from the wide sweep of that mighty
Name to the other, 'The God of Jacob.' The one carries us out among the
glories of the universe, and shows us, behind them all, the personal
Will of which they are the servants, and the Character of which they are
the expressions. The other brings us down to the tent of the solitary
wanderer, and shows us that that mighty Commander and Emperor enters
into close, living, tender, personal relations with one poor soul, and
binds Himself by that great covenant, which is rooted in His love alone,
to be the God who cares for and keeps and blesses the man in all his
wanderings. Neither does the command of the mighty Whole hinder the
closest relation to the individual, nor does the care of the individual
interfere with the direction of the Whole. The single soul stands out
clear and isolated, as if there were none in the universe but God and
himself; and the whole fulness of the divine power, and all the
tenderness of the God-heart, are lavished upon the individual, even
though the armies of the skies wait upon His nod.
So, if we put the two names together, we get the completion of the great
idea; and whilst the one speaks to us of infinite power, of absolute
supremacy, of universal rule, and so delivers us from the fear of
nature, and from the blindness which sees only the material operations
and not the working Hand that underlies them, the other speaks to us of
gentle and loving and specific care, and holds out the hope that,
between man and God, there may be a bond of friendship and of mutual
possession so sweet and sacred that nothing else can compare with it.
The God of Jacob is the Lord of hosts. More wondrous still, the Lord of
hosts is the God of Jacob.