Lot has now passed off the scene—his sun has gone down amid thick clouds and a gloomy atmosphere; it now remains for us to pursue, for a few moments longer, the narrative of Abraham’s ways, and God’s dealings with him.
There was one point involved in chapter 12 which I left untouched, knowing that it would come before us again in this place.
When Abraham went down into Egypt, he entered into a compact with Sarah his wife to conceal part of the truth, “Say, I pray thee,” said he, “thou art my sister” (Chap. 12:13). One evil ever leads to another. Abraham was moving in the wrong direction when he went down into Egypt for help, and therefore did not exhibit that refinement of conscience which would have told him of the moral unsoundness of this mental reservation. “Speak every man truth with his neighbor,” being a divine principle, would always exercise an influence upon one walking in communion with God; but Abraham’s desire to get out of present trial was an evidence of failure in communion, and hence “his moral sense,” as a recent writer has termed it, was not as keen or as elevated as it should have been. However, although the Lord plagued Pharaoh’s house because of his having taken Sarah into it, and further, although Pharaoh rebukes Abraham for his acting in the matter, yet the latter says nothing whatever about the deliberate compact into which he had entered with his wife, to keep back part of the truth; he silently takes the rebuke and goes on his way, but the root of the evil remained still in his heart, ready to show itself at any time if circumstances should arise to draw it out.
Now, it is marvelous to behold Abraham coming up out of Egypt-building an altar and pitching tent—exhibiting the noble generosity of faith—vanquishing Chedorlaomer and repulsing the temptation of the King of Sodom—urging his request for a son and heir, receiving the most gracious answer—on his face before God in the sense of His almighty grace and power—entertaining the heavenly strangers and interceding for his brother Lot. In a word, I say, it is marvelous to behold Abraham passing through such brilliant scenes, comprising a series of years, and, all the while, this moral point, in which he had erred at the very threshold of his course, remains unsettled in his heart True, it did not develop itself during the period to which I have just referred, but why did it not? Because Abraham was not in circumstances to call it out, but there it was notwithstanding. The evil was not fully brought out—not confessed, not got rid of—and the proof of this is, that the moment he again finds himself in circumstances which could act upon his weak point it is at once made manifest that the weak point is there. The temptation through which he passed in the matter of the King of Sodom, was not by any means calculated to touch this peculiar point; not was anything that occurred to him from the time he came up out of Egypt until he went down into Gerar, calculated to touch it, for had it been touched, it would no doubt have exhibited itself.
We never can know what is in our hearts until circumstances arise to draw it out. Peter did not imagine that he could deny his Lord, but when he got into circumstances which were calculated to act upon his peculiar weakness; he showed that the weakness was there.
It required the protracted period of forty years in the wilderness to teach the children of Israel “what was in their hearts” (Deut. 8:22And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments, or no. (Deuteronomy 8:2)); and it is one of the grand results of the course of discipline through which each child of God passes, to lead him into a more profound knowledge of his own weakness and nothingness. “We had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead” (2 Cor. 1:99But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead: (2 Corinthians 1:9)). The more we are growing in the sense of our infirmities, the more shall we see our need of clinging more closely to Christ—drawing more largely upon His grace, and entering more fully into the cleansing virtue and value of His atoning blood. The Christian, at the opening of his course, never knows his own heart; indeed, he could not bear the full knowledge of it; he would be overwhelmed thereby. The Lord leads us not by the way of the Philistines lest we should see war,” and so be plunged in despair. But He graciously leads us by a circuitous route, in order that our apprehension of His grace may keep pace with our growing self-knowledge.
In chapter 20, then, we find Abraham again, in the lapse of many years, falling into the old error, a suppression of truth, for which he has to suffer a rebuke from a mere man of the world. The man of the world, in this scene, seemed, for the moment, to possess a more refined moral sense than the man of God. “Said he not unto me,” says he, “‘She is my sister’ and she, even she herself said, “He is my brother: in the integrity of my heart and innocency of my hands have I done this.” But mark how God enters the scene for the purpose of vindicating His servant. He says to Abimelech, “Behold, thou art but a dead man.” Yes, with all “the integrity of his heart and innocency of his hands”—with all his fine moral sense of right and wrong, he was “but a dead man,” when it came to be a question, for one moment, between him and even an erring child of God. God, in His grace, was looking at His dear servant from quite a different point of view from that adopted by Abimelech. All that the latter could see in Abraham was a man guilty of a manifest piece of deception, but God saw more than that, and therefore He says to Abimelech, “Now therefore restore the man his wife; for he is a prophet, and he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live.” What dignity is here put upon Abraham! God himself vindicates him before the world! Not a syllable of reproof!—not a breath of disapprobation—no, “he is a prophet and he shall pray for thee and thou shalt live.” How truly consolatory it is for the poor, weak, and harassed believer to remember that His Father is ever viewing him through the medium of the Lord Jesus Christ. He sees nothing whatever upon His child but the excellency and perfectness of Jesus. Thus, while a man of the world may have to rebuke a child of God, as in the case before us, God declares that He values that character which the believer has received from Him more than all the amiability, integrity, and innocency that nature can boast of.
This reminds us of the way in which the Lord vindicates the Baptist before the multitude, although He had sent a message to himself which must have exercised him deeply;— “I say unto you, among those that are born of women there is not a greater prophet then John the Baptist” (Luke 7:2828For I say unto you, Among those that are born of women there is not a greater prophet than John the Baptist: but he that is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he. (Luke 7:28)). Thus, whatever unfavorable aspect the child of God may wear in the world’s view, God will ever show Himself the vindicator of such. “He suffered no man to do them wrong; yea, he reproved kings for their sakes, saying, Touch not mine anointed and do my prophets no harm” (1 Chron. 16:21, 2221He suffered no man to do them wrong: yea, he reproved kings for their sakes, 22Saying, Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm. (1 Chronicles 16:21‑22)).
However, as was observed with regard to John the Baptist, the message sent from the Lord to His servant must have exercised his spirit deeply in secret, so is it in Abraham’s case. Abraham must have felt deeply humbled in his soul at the thought of what had occurred, and the consciousness of the fact that God would not enter into judgment with him about it would have augmented that feeling. When Abraham fell into the same error in Egypt we do not find that Pharaoh’s reproof produced any manifest effect. He was not humbled by it to such a degree as to make a full confession of the whole thing. He takes his departure out of Egypt, but the root of evil remains in his heart, ready to shoot forth its pernicious branches again. Not so in chapter 20; here we get at once at the root of the matter—Abraham opens up his whole heart, he con. fesses that from the very first moment of his course he had retained this thing in his heart which had twice betrayed him into an act, which, to say the least of it, would not bear the light. And as there is the full confession of the evil on his part, so is there the complete renunciation of it—he gets rid of it fully, root and branch. The leaven is put forth out of every corner of his heart, he hearkens to Abimelech’s reproof and profits by it; it was God’s instrument by which He brought out the matter, and delivered the soul of his servant from the power of evil.
But, in addition to the point upon which we have been dwelling, there was yet another question to be settled ere Abraham could reach the most elevated point of his course as a man of faith. The bondwoman and her son were yet in the house. He must put forth these from his house as he had put forth the evil from his heart. The house and the heart must be cleared out. In chapter 21 we find matters brought to a crisis with regard to the bondwoman and her son, concerning whom we have heard comparatively nothing until now. The element of bondage had heretofore lain dormant in Abraham’s house because not roused into action, by anything of an opposite nature and tendency. But, in the birth of Isaac—the son of the free woman—the child of promise—we see a new element introduced. The spirit of liberty and the spirit of bondage are thus brought into contact, and the struggle must issue in the expulsion of either one or the other. They cannot move on in harmony, for “how can two walk together except they be agreed.”
Now we are invited by the Apostle, in his epistle to the Galatians, to behold in these two children, “the two covenants,” the one gendering to bondage, the other to liberty; and further, to behold in them samples of the fleshly and spiritual seed of Abraham, the former, “born after the flesh,” the latter, “born after the Spirit.” Nor can anything be more marked than the line of demarcation between, not only the two covenants, but the two seeds. They are totally distinct the one from the other, and can never, by any operation, be brought to coalesce. Abraham was made to feel, and that painfully, this fact. “Cast out this bondwoman and her son; for the son of this bondwoman shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaac” (Chap. 21:10). Here the natural result shows itself. The two elements could not mingle. As well might the north and the south winds be expected to blow in all their strength without exciting a convulsion in the elements.
But it was most painful work to Abraham to be obliged thus to thrust forth his son. “The thing was very grievous in Abraham’s sight because of his son;” but it mattered not, he must be put out, for the son of a bondwoman could never inherit the promises made only to the spiritual seed. If Ishmael were to have been retained, it would have been an open allowance of the claims of the flesh. Abraham would have found something “as pertaining to the flesh” and would thus have had “whereof to glory.” But no—all God’s promises are to be made good to those who, like Isaac, are the children of promise, born after the Spirit, “not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:1313Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. (John 1:13)). Ishmael was manifestly born “of the will of the flesh, and of the will of man,” and “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.”
The flesh must therefore be set aside and kept under, no matter how “grievous” it may be to our hearts. The Christian will often find it grievous enough to keep down the old principle which ever lusts against the new, but the Lord gives spiritual power for the struggle so that “we are more than conquerors through Him that loves us.”
But I must again remind the reader that it is not my present purpose to pursue the doctrinal matter involved in this instructive history; were I to do so it would carry me far beyond the limits I have prescribed for myself in this little paper, the design of which is, as before observed, simply to direct attention to a few leading principles put forward in the narrative. I will therefore pass on to the next chapter which is the last of the section laid out for consideration.