I class these two chapters together because, like those we have just been considering, they furnish us with a contrast—a contrast most marked and striking between the position occupied by Abraham in chapter 18, and that occupied by Lot in chapter 19.
The Lord Jesus when asked by Judas, not Iscariot, “how is it that thou wilt manifest thyself unto us and not unto the world?” replied, “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 14:23.) Again, “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 will sup with him, and he with Me.” (Rev. 3:20). Now, Abraham furnishes us with an exceedingly happy exemplification of the truth stated in the above passages. “The Lord appeared unto him in the plains of Mamre: and He sat in the tent door in the heat of the day.” (chap. 18:1.) Here we find Abraham again in the full exhibition of his stranger character. Mamre and the tent are associated in our minds with the day of his triumph over the king of Sodom. Abraham is still a stranger and a pilgrim “dwelling in tabernacles,” The revelation made unto him by the Almighty God had not altered the tone of his character in this respect, but had rather imparted fresh vigor and energy thereto. A simple dependence upon the promise of the Almighty God was the most effectual means of maintaining him in his stranger condition.
Now, it is, in the very highest degree, instructive to see the honor here put upon the character and condition of the stranger. Throughout the wide range of the world there was just one spot in which the Lord could accept the rites of hospitality and make Himself at home, and that was in the tent of “a pilgrim and stranger.” The Lord would not honor he sumptuous halls and princely palaces of Egypt with His presence. No. All His sympathies and all His affections hung around the stranger of Marry re, who was the only one who, in the midst of an evil world, could be induced to take God for his portion.
What a season of enjoyment it must have been to Abraham while those heavenly strangers sat with him and partook of the offerings of his generous heart. Mark how he calls forth into action all the energies of his house to do honor to his guests. He hastens from the tent to the field, and from the field to the tent again, and seems to lose sight of himself in his effort to make others happy.
Nor is it merely by partaking of Abraham’s hospitality that the Lord gives expression to the high estimation in which He holds him; He renews His promise to him with regard to the son —He opens up His counsels to him with reference to Sodom. “Shall I,” says He, “hide from Abraham that thing which I do; seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which He hath spoken of him.” (vers. 17-19.)
Here Abraham is seem as “the friend of God.” “The servant knoweth not what his lord doeth,” but Abraham was made acquainted with what the Lord was about to do to Sodom, while Lot—the one who was so deeply interested in the solemn event—was left in profound ignorance about it.
How then does Abraham make use of his favored position? Does he use it to strengthen more fully, and place on a firmer basis, the future interests of his house? Surely the natural heart would at once have prompted him to make such a use of his present advantage in the matter of nearness to Jehovah. Does he use it thus? Nay. Abraham had learned too much of the ways of God to act in a way savoring so much of the selfishness of a heartless world. But, even had he thought of such a thing, he had no need to utter a syllable on the subject, for “the Almighty God” had most amply satisfied his heart with regard to the everlasting interests of his house —He had fixed it upon such a foundation that an anxious thought would have evidenced a complete want of moral order in Abraham’s soul. He therefore entertained not a thought about himself or his house, but like a genuine man of faith, he takes advantage of his place in the presence of God to intercede for a brother, whose worldliness had plunged him into the very midst of that place which was about to be given over to everlasting destruction. “And Abraham drew near, and said, Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the wicked?” (ver. 23.) “The righteous!” to whom can he allude? Can it be to the man who had so deliberately turned aside out of the path of faith to take up his abode at Sodom? Yes; he speaks of Lot—he calls him “righteous,”—he speaks of him in the very same terms as the Spirit in the apostle afterward speaks of him when he calls him a “righteous soul.” Abraham, therefore, was taught of God when he could recognize in the man sure rounded by all the pollution of Sodom “a righteous soul.”
I doubt not it will be admitted by every one taught of God that the conduct of Abraham in this chapter, furnishes us with one of the most important results of a holy and separated walk. We observe in it a man pleading with God in a most urgent strain for one who had turned his back upon him, and selected Sodom as the place of his abode. How completely must Abraham’s soul have been lifted above “the things that are seen” when he could thus forget “the strife” and the departure, worldliness and evil of Lot, and plead for him still as “a righteous soul.” If Abraham appears as “the friend of God” under other circumstances and other scenes, surely he is here seen as the child of God exhibiting most sweetly those principles which he had learned in communion with his heavenly Father.
We shall now leave Abraham, for a little, enjoying his happy place before the Lord, while we contemplate the last sad scene in the life of one who seems to have valued the things of this life more highly than was consistent with the character of “a stranger and pilgrim” or “a righteous soul.”
From the time that the separation took place between Abraham and Lot, the former seems to have proceeded “from strength to strength;” while the latter, on the contrary, seems to have proceeded only downwards, from one stage of weakness to another, until we find him, at the close, making shipwreck of everything, and merely escaping with his life.” The loss of all his goods in the battle between the “four kings and five” does not seem to have had any effect upon the mind of Lot in the way of teaching him the evil of being mixed up with the world; yea, he seems to have become more deeply involved in worldliness after that event than he had been before; for, at the firs; he merely “pitched his tent towards Sodom” (chap. 13:12); but now we find him sitting “in the gate” (chap. 19:1), which, as we know, was then the place of honor. When once a man has put his hand to the plow if he begin to look back, we have been told by Him who cannot err, that “he is not fit for the kingdom of God.” Nor is it possible to count upon the fearful lengths to which a man may go when once the world, in any one of its varied aspects, has taken possession of his heart, or when once he has begun to turn his back upon the people of God. The terrible declension spoken of in Hebrews 10, which stops not short of “trampling under foot the Son of God,” has its beginning in the apparently simple act of “forsaking the assembling of ourselves together.” How needful, therefore, it is that we should take heed to our ways, and watch the avenues of our hearts and minds, lest any evil thing should get dominion over us, which, however trivial in itself, might lead to the most appalling results.
Now it strikes me, that we have in the circumstance presented to us in the opening of chapter xix. the full evidence of Lot’s fallen condition. The Lord Himself does not appear at all. He remains at a distance from the unholy place, and merely sends His angels to excute His commission upon the devoted city of Sodom. The angels, too, exhibit all the symptoms of distance and strangership—they refuse to go into Lot’s house when invited, saying, “Nay, but we will abide in the street all night.” True, they subsequently enter into his house; but, if they do so, it is not so much to enjoy refreshment as to counteract the sad effects of Lot’s wrong circumstances. How different was the scene at Lot’s house from that which they had so lately witnessed at the tent of the stranger of Mamre! The tumult of the men of Sodom—to whom, notwithstanding all their ungodly deeds and ungodly speeches, Lot applies the title of “brethren”—the evident embarrassment of Lot at being discovered in such painful circumstances—the shocking proposal which he is constrained to make in order to screen his guests from the violence of the ungodly men of Sodom—the struggle at the door, and Lot’s danger—all these things must have shocked the heavenly strangers, and stood in marked contrast with the holy peace and retirement of Abraham’s tent, together with his own calm and dignified demeanor throughout the scene. Well might those angels have been astonished to find “a righteous soul” in such a place, when he could have enjoyed, in company with his separated brother, the peaceful and holy joys of his steady and consistent course.
But the time had now arrived for the pouring out of the cup of divine wrath upon Sodom. “The men said unto Lot, Hast thou here any besides?. . . bring them out of this place: for we will destroy this place, because the cry of them is waxen great before the face of the Lord; and the Lord path sent us to destroy it.” (vers. 12, 13.) The critical moment which the Lord Jesus, in the gospel, notes by the exceedingly solemn word “UNTIL,” was now at hand for the careless inhabitants of Sodom, who dreamed not of any interruption to their “eating, and drinking, buying and selling, marrying and giving in marriage.” A moment’s respite is allowed, during which Lot bears a message to his son-in-law, a testimony as to the rapidly approaching judgment; but, oh! what power could the testimony of one who had voluntarily come in and settled amongst them, have upon those who had lived and moved from their earliest infancy in the midst of the ungodly scene? How could Lot expect that his words would have any weight when his ways had so sadly contradicted them? He might now, with terrified aspect and earnest entreaties, urge them to leave a place which he knew was doomed to everlasting destruction, but they could not forget the calm and deliberate way in which he had at first “pitched his tent toward Sodom,” and finally taken his seat “in the gate;” hence, as might be expected, “he seemed as one that mocked unto his sons-in-law.” (ver. 14.) And how, so far as he was concerned, could it be otherwise? His sons-in-law might be, and doubtless were, responsible before God for the rejection of the testimony; but Lot could not, by any means, expect them to heed him much, indeed, we find that even he himself was tardy in departing from the place; for “while he lingered”—while his heart still went after some object or another that was dear to him— “the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the Lord being merciful to him, and they brought him forth and set him without the city.” (ver. 16.) From this statement, it is manifest that, had not the men “laid hold of, and brought forth” Lot, he would, no doubt, have “lingered” on “until” the fire of God’s judgment had fallen upon him, and prevented even his “escaping with his life.” But they “pulled him out of the fire,” because “the Lord had mercy upon him.”
But this escape of Lot’s only served to put fresh honor upon Abraham, for we read that “when God destroyed the cities of the plain, he remembered Abraham and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow” (ver. 29). Thus, as Abraham’s sword had delivered Lot in the time of the conquest of Sodom, his prayer delivered him in the time of its final overthrow, “for the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” Nor does the contrast between those two men stop here. There is yet another scene in which they stand at a great distance from each other as to the moral condition of their souls. “Abraham gat him up early in the morning, to the place where be stood before the Lord” (ver. 27). Here the man of faith, the holy pilgrim, once more raises his head amid the mighty scene of desolation. All was over with Sodom and its guilty inhabitants, “the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.” Sad spectacle! The din and bustle of that once stirring city was hushed; silence reigned around—the buying and selling—the eating and drinking—the marrying and giving in marriage—all the intercourse of social life had been awfully broken in upon. The solemn “UNTIL” had come at last—the only one in all that wicked place who, notwithstanding his failure, could be regarded as “the salt,” had been removed—the measure of Sodom’s iniquity had been filled up—the day of divine longsuffering closed, and nothing now met the eye of Abraham but misery and desolation throughout all the plain. How melancholy! And yet it was but a type of the far more terrible desolation which shall sweep across this guilty world when the Son of man makes His appearance, “when every eye shall see Him, and all the tribes of the earth shall mourn and wail because of Him.”
Thus, “Abraham stood before the Lord,” completely exempt from all the sad effects of the recent visitation, as far as he was personally concerned. His stranger condition which, in the days of Chedorlaomer, had enabled him to live outside of Sodom and all its circumstances, still kept him free, and was the means of his escape from Sodom’s unutterable woe and misery. Had Abraham, when solicited by the King of Sodom, mixed himself up with the things of Sodom, he would have been involved, in some measure, as was his brother Lot, in its overthrow. He himself would have been saved, but his work would have been burnt up. But Abraham was looking for “a city that hath foundations,” and he knew at once that Sodom was not that city, and hence he would have nothing whatever to do with it. He would “hate even the garment spotted by the flesh”—he would “touch not the unclean thing,” and now he was permitted to realize the blessed re. suits of his conduct, for, while Lot had to retreat in confusion and sorrow to a cave in the mountains, his wife and all his possessions being lost, Abraham takes his stand, in all that blessed calmness and dignity which ever characterized him, in the presence of Jehovah, and from thence surveys the heart-rending scene.
But what of Lot? How did he end his course? “Oh, tell it not in Gath! publish it not in the streets of Askelon!” Well may we desire to throw a veil over the closing scene of the life of one who does not seem to have ever realized, as he should, the power of the call of God. He had always displayed a secret desire for the things of Egypt or those of Sodom. His heart does not seem to have been thoroughly detached from the world, and therefore his course was always unsteady; from the time he separated himself from Abraham, he went from bad to worse—from one stage of evil to another, until at last the scene closes with the shocking transaction in the cave; the sad results of which were seen in the persons of Moab and Ammo; the enemies of the people of God.
Thus ended the course of Lot, whose history ought to be a solemn warning to all Christians who feel a tendency to be carried away by the world. The history has not been left on record without a purpose. “Whatever things were written aforetime, were written for our learning,” may we therefore learn from the above narrative, “not to lust after evil things,” for, although “the Lord knows how to deliver the godly out of temptation,” yet it is out place to keep as much out of the way of temptation as we can, and our prayer should ever be “lead us not into temptation.” “The world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever” (1 John 2:4).