Lot’s wife was changed into a pillar of salt, and if that pillar still remained, we should see her today standing in exactly the same attitude in which she was standing when death overtook her.
In the early 1700’s, a baker in the south of Italy sunk a well in his garden, and while doing so he suddenly came upon a buried city, a city which had been lost to the world for over 1800 years. The underground city was no empty place; it was peopled with the dead, and these were found in the very attitude and position in which death had overtaken them—standing, sitting or lying just as they had been on that awful day when volcanic Mount Vesuvius erupted, destroying them all.
The positions of the dead in that buried city were varied. Many were in the streets in the attitude of running, trying to make their escape from the city. Others were in deep vaults where they had gone for safety, crouching in their fear of what might fall upon them. Others were on staircases and flights of stone steps leading to the roof, in the attitude of climbing to a place where they hoped the lava might not bury them. Two men were found by the garden gate of a large and beautiful mansion. One was standing with the key in his hand, a handsome ring on his finger, and a hundred gold and silver coins scattered around him. The other, who was probably his slave, was stretched on the ground with his hands clutching some silver cups and vases. These men had evidently been suffocated while trying to carry off the money and treasure.
But one man in that buried city deserves to be remembered to the end of time. Who was he? He was a Roman soldier, the brave sentinel at the gate. There he had been posted in the morning and there he had been ordered to remain. How was he found? Standing at his post with his hand still grasping his sword, faithful unto death. There, by the city gate, while the earth shook and rocked, while the sky was black with ashes, while showers of stones were falling around him and while hundreds of men, women and children brushed past him as they fled in terror from the city, stood the soldier, firm and unmoved. Should such a man as I flee? thought the sentinel. And in that same spot, in that post of duty, he was found 1800 years later, faithful to his trust, faithful unto death.
Oh, that the Lord’s soldiers were more like that brave man in Pompeii! It is so easy to begin a thing, so hard to stick to it; so easy to start on the Christian course, so difficult to persevere; so easy to enlist in the army, so very hard to stand unmoved in the time of danger or trial. Yet what does the Master say? “He that endureth to the end shall be saved.” What says the Captain? It is the soldier who is faithful unto death who shall receive the crown of life.
Who then among us are faithful, true and unmoved? Who among us can stand firm in spite of Satan’s efforts to lead us astray? Who can hold on, not for a week only, but still faithful as the weeks change into months and the months into years, faithful unto death?
About 100 years before the time of Nehemiah, there lived a Chinese philosopher named Confucius. Looking around upon his fellow men, Confucius said that he noticed that a large proportion of them were “Copper-kettle-boiling-water men.” The water in a copper kettle, said Confucius, boils very quickly, much more quickly than in an iron kettle. But the worst of it is that it just as quickly cools down and ceases to boil. So, said Confucius, is it with numbers of my fellow men: they are one day hot and eager, boiling over with zeal in some particular cause, but the next day they have cooled down, and they take no interest in it whatever. Soon up, soon down, like the water in a copper kettle.
So is it in the service of God. There are, sad to say, many copper-kettle-boiling-water Christians. They are hot and earnest in the work of God one moment, but in the next they have cooled down and are ready to leave the work to take care of itself.
But Nehemiah was no copper-kettle-boiling-water man; he comes before us as a man faithful to his post, standing firm to his duty, a man whom no one could draw from his work or cause to swerve from what he knew to be right.
The Samaritans had made a mighty effort to stop Nehemiah’s great work of rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem. They began with ridicule, but the builders took no notice of the shouts of laughter, and built on as before. Then they tried to stop the work by force, but they found the whole company of builders changed into an army of soldiers, ready and waiting for their attack. Now the news reached them (Neh. 6:11Now it came to pass, when Sanballat, and Tobiah, and Geshem the Arabian, and the rest of our enemies, heard that I had builded the wall, and that there was no breach left therein; (though at that time I had not set up the doors upon the gates;) (Nehemiah 6:1)) that the walls were progressing. The gaps were filled up; the different pieces were joined together, and nothing now remained but to put up the gates in the various gateways.
They felt accordingly that no time was to be lost; they must, in some way or other, put a stop to Nehemiah and his work at once. They determined, therefore, to try a new plan: they would entrap Nehemiah by stratagem and deceit. So they sent an invitation to Jerusalem begging him to meet them in a certain place that there they might settle their differences by a friendly conference.
Sanballat was to be there as the head of the Samaritans, Geshem as the head of the Arabians, and Nehemiah as the head of the Jews. Surely, meeting in a friendly way and imbued with a friendly spirit, nothing would be easier than quietly and peacefully to confer together, and then to arrange matters in a comfortable and satisfactory manner.
The place appointed for the meeting was the Plain of One—the green, beautiful plain between the Judean hills and the Mediterranean—called elsewhere the Plain of Sharon. There in later days stood Lydda, the place where Peter healed Aeneas; there stood Joppa from which Jonah embarked. Nehemiah would have a journey of about thirty miles before he reached the appointed meeting place.
Sanballat’s proposal sounded very fine and even very friendly, but it was a trap. His real desire was to tempt Nehemiah from behind the walls of Jerusalem, to entice him to a safe distance from his brave friends and companions, and then to have him secretly assassinated. Who then would ever hear again of the power of Jerusalem? Who then would ever see the gates put in their places?
Was Nehemiah moved from his post of duty by Sanballat’s message? Did he leave his work at once and set off for the Plain of One? Look at his decided answer: “I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down: why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to you?”
God’s work would be done better, and with more success, if all His workmen were like Nehemiah. But it is sad that many who call themselves workers for God are ready to run off from the work at every call, every invitation, every appeal from the world, the flesh or the devil.
I am doing a great work, but there is that amusement I want to take part in, so the work must be left today.
I am doing a great work, but I do not feel inclined for it just now I feel lazy, or the weather is too cold to go out, or the sun shines so brightly I should like a walk instead, so I must leave my work to others today.
I am doing a great work, but I love my own comfort or pleasure or convenience better than I love the work. These must come first and the work must come second.
So speak the actions of many so-called workers, and thus it is that so much Christian work is a dead failure.
But Nehemiah said, “I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down: why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to you?”
Let us remember his words; let us inwardly digest them, and the very next time that we are tempted to give up work for God and to run off to something else, let us take care to echo them.
But Sanballat was determined not to be beaten. He would try again and yet again. Four times over he sent Nehemiah a friendly invitation to a friendly conference, and four times over Nehemiah steadily refused to come. Then, when that plot completely failed, Sanballat lost his temper.
One day a messenger arrived at the gate of Jerusalem with an insult in his hand. The insult was in the form of a piece of parchment; it was a letter from Sanballat, an “open letter” (Neh. 6:55Then sent Sanballat his servant unto me in like manner the fifth time with an open letter in his hand; (Nehemiah 6:5)).
Letters in the East in Nehemiah’s day were not put into envelopes, but were rolled up like a map; then the ends were flattened and pasted together. The Persians made up their letters in a roll about six inches long and then gummed a piece of paper around them, and put a seal on the outside. But in writing to important people, not only was the letter gummed together, but it was also tied up in several places with colored ribbon and then enclosed in a bag or purse. To send a letter to such a man as Nehemiah, not only untied and unenclosed, but actually not even having the ends pasted together, was a tremendous insult, and Nehemiah, who had been accustomed to the strict etiquette of the Persian court, knew this well.
But Sanballat probably sent this open letter not only with the intention of insulting Nehemiah, but also in order that everyone whom the messenger came across might read it, and that the Jews in and around Jerusalem might be frightened by its contents, and therefore might be inclined to encourage his plans.
The letter contained a piece of gossip: “It is reported among the heathen, and Gashmu saith it.” So the letter began, and then there followed the scandal, the gossip about Nehemiah.
People’s tongues were busy 2000 years ago, just as people’s tongues are busy now, and the gossips of those days, like the gossips of today, were not particular about truth.
What was the gossip which Gashmu had started against Nehemiah? It was this: Jerusalem is being built, we all see that, says Gashmu. But now, what is at the bottom of this business? Hush! says Gashmu, do not tell anyone, and I will tell you a secret. You would never believe it, you would never guess it, but what do you think? As soon as those walls are built and those gates are finished, you will hear news. There is going to be a king in Jerusalem, and his name is Nehemiah. As soon as he has a strong city in which to defend himself, he is going to rebel against Persia. In fact, he has already paid people inside Jerusalem to pretend to be prophets, and to say to the people: “There is a king in Judah.”
That is the gossip, said Sanballat, that is going the round of all the gossips’ tongues in the land. And now what will be the result? If the King of Persia hears of it, and it is sure to reach his ears sooner or later, it will go badly with you, Nehemiah. The best thing you can do is to consent to meet me, and we will talk the matter over and see what can be done to prevent this report reaching Persia. “Come now therefore, and let us take counsel together.”
Nehemiah had stood firm under ridicule; he had been unmoved by force or deceitful friendships. Will he be frightened from his duty by gossip? No; it did not matter what they said, nor who said it. He simply sent Sanballat word that there was not a particle of truth in the report, nor did he intend to take any notice of it. “There are no such things done as thou sayest, but thou feignest them out of thine own heart.”
Over the entrance to one of the old English castles these words are carved in the stonework:
THEY SAY.
WHAT DO THEY SAY?
LET THEM SAY.
These words are well worth our remembering. It is not pleasant to be talked about, especially if the words spoken about us are untrue, but it will be a wonderful thing if any of us escape the gossip’s tongue.
They say, and they always will say to the end of time; people will talk, and their talk will chiefly be of their neighbors.
What do they say? Do you answer like the Psalmist, “They laid to my charge things that I knew not”? They speak unkindly, untruly, unfairly. Never mind; let them say. You cannot stop their mouths, but you can hinder yourself from taking notice of their words. Let them say, for they will have their say, but they will end it all the sooner if you take no notice of it.
Let us try in the future to leave all with the Lord, and when Gashmu’s tongue is whispering, and whenever some busybody like Sanballat repeats Gashmu’s words to us, let us act as Nehemiah did: let us take no notice of the repeated tales.
Yet, although we may practically ignore the gossiping tongue, if we are naturally sensitive we cannot help feeling some sting from the unkind or untrue speech. Poor Nehemiah, unmoved though he was by the gossip, yet felt it necessary to remember the meaning of his name, and to turn from Sanballat’s letter to “the Lord my Comforter.” “O God, strengthen my hands.” So he cried from the depths of his soul, and so he was comforted.
Sanballat now felt that he was attempting an impossibility. It was of no use trying himself to move Nehemiah, for Nehemiah was thoroughly on his guard against him. If he reached him at all, he must do so through others, whom Nehemiah did not suspect. So, by means of his wealth, Sanballat tempted some of the Jews over to his side.
There was a woman named Noadiah living in Jerusalem, and she (to her shame) was bribed by Sanballat to act as a prophetess, and to be the bearer of messages to Nehemiah, pretending that those messages were sent to him by God. Nor was Noadiah the only one who was bribed by the Samaritan governor to pretend the gift of prophecy.
One day Nehemiah went to the house of one of these people who professed to be able to prophesy. He was a young man named Shemaiah whose family had returned from Babylon with Zerubbabel, but who had never been able to prove their Jewish descent (Neh. 7:61,62,6461And these were they which went up also from Tel-melah, Tel-haresha, Cherub, Addon, and Immer: but they could not show their father's house, nor their seed, whether they were of Israel. 62The children of Delaiah, the children of Tobiah, the children of Nekoda, six hundred forty and two. (Nehemiah 7:61‑62)
64These sought their register among those that were reckoned by genealogy, but it was not found: therefore were they, as polluted, put from the priesthood. (Nehemiah 7:64)).
This young man professed to be very fond of Nehemiah and begged him to come to see him. Nehemiah did so, and found him shut up, his doors barred and bolted, and his house barricaded like a fortress. He admitted Nehemiah and seemed, as he did so, to be in a great state of fear and terror.
Then he whispered a dreadful secret to him. He told Nehemiah that his life was in immediate danger, that there was a plot set on foot by Sanballat to murder him that very night and that this plot had been revealed to him by God. He told him that he felt his own life, as one of Nehemiah’s best friends, was also in danger, and therefore he proposed that they should go together after dark to the temple courts, and passing through these, to enter into the sanctuary itself, the Holy Place, in which stood the altar of incense, the golden candlestick and the table of showbread. There, having carefully closed the folding doors of firewood, they might hide till daybreak, and those who were coming to assassinate Nehemiah would seek him in vain.
Shemaiah gave this advice as a direct message from God, but Nehemiah saw through it. He felt sure God could not have sent that message, for God cannot contradict His own Word. And what did God’s Word say? It was clearly laid down in the law of Moses that no man, unless he were a priest, might enter the Holy Place. If he attempted to do so, death would be the penalty. “The stranger that cometh nigh shall be put to death.”
So Nehemiah bravely answers: “Should such a man as I flee? and who is there, that, being as I am, would go into the temple to save his life? I will not go in.” Who is there, that, being as I am—that is, being a layman, not a priest—could go into the temple and live? In other words, if I, Nehemiah, who am not a priest, should break the clear command of God, by crossing the threshold of the temple, instead of saving my life I should lose it. I will not go in.
So this plot also failed to get Nehemiah to sin. Like the sentinel who stood unmoved at his post, Nehemiah went on steadily with his work. Should such a man as I flee? And in fifty-two days after its commencement, in less than two months, the wall was finished (Neh. 6:1515So the wall was finished in the twenty and fifth day of the month Elul, in fifty and two days. (Nehemiah 6:15)).
With a huge army, hundreds of horses and twenty elephants, Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, crossed over from Greece to Italy to conquer the Romans. No elephants had ever before been seen in Italy, and when the two armies met, and the huge animals advanced with their dark trunks curling and snorting, and their ponderous feet shaking the earth, the horses in the Roman army were so terrified that they refused to move, and Pyrrhus won an easy victory. After the battle was over, Pyrrhus walked among the dead, and looked at the bodies of his slain foes. As he did so, one fact struck him very forcibly, and it was this: the Romans did not know how to run away. Not one had turned and fled from the field of battle. The wounds were all in front; not one was wounded in the back.
“Ah,” said Pyrrhus, “with such soldiers as that, the whole world would belong to me.”
Soldiers of Christ, let us be brave for the Master. Let the language of the heart of each in the Lord’s army be that of Nehemiah, “Should such a man as I flee?” No, I will not flee. I will not desert my post. I will stand my ground, bravely, consistently, perseveringly, unto death.