We now turn for a little, in our meditations on the sanctuary, to a class of hearers, who stand at an infinite distance from those on whom we have been meditating. No comparison can be drawn. Outwardly, all may seem to have the same object in view; but, inwardly, and in God’s sight, it is far otherwise. There is reality in the one, but only formality in the other. Christians may be actuated by different motives, but all have eternal life, and, like water, this life naturally rises to its source — God in Christ.
Hence the thirst for God — the living God. They cannot live in a land where no water is, they must draw from the resources of heaven to meet their need on earth. “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst, but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” (John 4:1414But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life. (John 4:14).) But where there is no divine life, there can be no divine motive, desire, or object. The natural man rises no higher than himself — self, not God, is his center, motive, and end.
Why then, it may be asked, does the natural man care about going to any place of worship? Various reasons might be given, but in no case could it be said, that to “draw near to God” is his object. His thought is rather to appease God by going, and to keep Him at a distance. We speak now of professors, who know something of God and of their own unfitness for His presence, but who attend some place of divine worship — so called.
There is in every merely natural man a dread of God. Ever since the day that “Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden,” it has been so. And the truth which we have now stated then came out. “And he said, I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” But just because man is afraid of God, he is willing to go through a certain amount of religious observances, with the view, as we have said, of appeasing or satisfying God, and thus, for the time, keeping Him at a distance. This may not be said in so many words, or even owned, but the melancholy fact is everywhere apparent. Are not the usual carnal enjoyments of a Sunday afternoon, more heartily entered into when the usual religious services have been attended to in the forenoon? And why is this? Because the neglect of religious duties would disturb the conscience, and so mar the pleasure.
Miserable as this state of things may appear, it is but the necessary condition of souls not reconciled to God. Such must be the state of things between the soul and God, however fair the profession, until He is known in the Person and work of Jesus. Those two words of awful depth, “without God,” describe their sad condition. Nothing can be more awful. “Without God” as to every circumstance around, and “without God” as to every thought and feeling within. What a gloomy, lonely, empty scene it must be, notwithstanding the apparent gaiety and happiness of those who fill it! The immortal soul with its noble capacities, is without its proper object. Still, while here, it is upheld by a false hope, and the enemy is hindered from driving it to despair. Indeed, his object is rather to soothe and stimulate, than to awaken and alarm. The deadly sleep of sin suits his purpose better. But, oh! what must the agony be, when the eyes are opened in that place where no mercy can ever come—when the fearful and hopeless doom of the soul is fully realized!
Dear reader, if thou art still “without God” — a Christian only in name — oh! listen to a word of faithful warning, entreaty, and encouragement. Why, Ο why, not give heed to these things? O, Why not believe God’s word now? Why not flee from the wrath to come now? The full tide of God’s free grace is flowing through the land now. Whosoever will, may drink of these living waters now. The door of mercy stands wide open wow. The Savior waits to welcome all who come now. None who come are cast out now. The very fountain of redeeming love is open to all now. It is free to all—it is free to thee: come — Ο come — drink freely — drink abundantly — the spring can never dry up — the channel can never be choked — why not drink and live? Why content thyself with a mere empty form? Nothing short of reality will suit God. Refuse not these living waters now, lest the day come when worlds could not purchase one drop of cold water to cool thy burning tongue. Oh! what a day of grace this is, when access to the very fountain of God’s love is open to the chief of sinners — to the most hollow of professors. “I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.” (Rev. 21:99And there came unto me one of the seven angels which had the seven vials full of the seven last plagues, and talked with me, saying, Come hither, I will show thee the bride, the Lamb's wife. (Revelation 21:9).) Now, grace is supreme, it is characterized as a sovereign. “Grace reigns through righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord.” Rom. 5:2121That as sin hath reigned unto death, even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord. (Romans 5:21).
Oh! sin not away, dear reader, this day of wondrous grace. Even now thou art an infinite loser with all the earthly pleasures, compared with one who can say, “Ο God, thou art my God.” Who could describe the black desolation of a soul that is without God — without the Savior — without the Comforter — and, consequently, without pardon — without peace — without salvation? The good things of this life may be possessed in abundance—the heart maybe generous — the mind richly endowed — the associations to a wish, and a capacity ample enough to enjoy them all. Still, he is “without God,” and the whole system in which he moves, so far as his soul is concerned, is an utter desolation—a scene of dismal emptiness. Why, supposing he could lay his hand on all the treasures of earth, and say, “these are mine,” it would be but earth still, and earth only.
Nothing short of being brought to God in all the blessedness of Christ, can meet the soul’s need. “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God......Marvel not that I said unto thee, ye must be born again.” God only can fill up the dreary void of an unsaved soul. There is no life but in His favor—no rest but in His love, and no joy but in His presence. “In thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right hand are pleasures for evermore.” Wert thou a master in Israel, and a stranger to the new birth, it would avail thee nothing. There is no heavier doom in Scripture than that which is denounced against “sinners in Zion;” and no judgment so given in detail, as that against Babylon. “The sinners in Zion are afraid; fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrites: who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings.” (Isa. 33:1414The sinners in Zion are afraid; fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrites. Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings? (Isaiah 33:14).) This must be the fearful end, and the awful eternity of those who are not “the children of God, by faith in Christ Jesus.” Outside of His presence they must be forever. And, in saying this, we have said what is the summing up of all misery. To be outside the presence of God. is to be in the forsaken place. A thousand figures may be used to describe its desolation, but one stroke of the divine pen sums it all up in that word, “forsaken.” What heart would not sink there? We learn something of its terribleness from Him who was there in love for us.
It is bad enough to be “without God in this world,” but what must it be in the next? Now, the sinner thinks the evil day far off, hope bears him up, and he makes merry with his friends, and seems quite happy. But the day will come when he must leave them all, and then, alas, the awful reality will be known. The eternity which he refused to prepare for, and the wrath which he refused to flee from, are come. Behind the stroke of death which has removed him from this world, is the judgment of God against sin; and now that judgment must take its course. There is no Savior — no intercessor, at the judgment seat. The awful sentence, “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire,” is heard. He had often listened to the invitation, “Come unto me,” but heeded it not. But now, no beseeching, bitter cry can alter the sentence — he knows it. Beseeching, weeping, struggling, are in vain. He must go to his place. But, alas! alas! it is to the forsaken place — forsaken of God — forsaken of man: as godless, Christless, homeless, friendless, he is cast into outer darkness. His eternal state is sealed. The gates of hell can be broken. Weep, weep, Ο my soul! lament with a sore lamentation — the fearful end of “sinners in Zion” — of lifeless professors! Oh! that the gospel trumpet may give a long, a loud, and a certain sound everywhere — that many may be awakened, ere it be too late.
Should these lines ever meet the eye of one whose conscience honestly says, “I am the man” — pause, I pray thee, and listen to a last appeal. That fearful place, shouldst thou be taken away in thy sins, must be thine forever. Yes, painful as it is to write it—that sentence — that prison-house — that chain — that fire, must, ere long, be thine, unless there be a thorough change of mind — a genuine repentance — and a true faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. But why not be decided at once, and give thy heart to Jesus? Is it fair, I ask, to offer to Him the cold formalities of a lifeless faith, and to give thy whole heart to the world? He only deserves the heart, and He only can lawfully demand it. But well I know thou wilt never give thy heart to Him, until thou believest that He has given His heart for thee. But when this great truth is seen, no power on earth or in hell could keep thy heart from Him. Then thy cry would be, “O, if I had a hundred hearts He should have them all!”
“Take Thou our hearts, and let them be
Forever closed to all but Thee;
Thy willing servants, let us wear
The seal of love forever there.”
Let thine eye then, dear reader, be fixed on the loving Savior, and keep it fixed there, until thy heart goes freely out to Him. It can only be drawn by what thou seest in Him. Think not of thine own heart, or of the act of surrendering it. Let Him draw it to Himself, blessed Lord! He only is worthy of it, and He only can fill it. Dwell on the love of His heart—think of the love that willingly went to the forsaken place for thee a sinner; and if the gates of thy heart open not to the loving, longsuffering, gracious Savior, who still knocks, and still patiently waits there, all the tongues and pens in the world must prove ineffectual. The Lord grant that thy heart may be made captive by His victorious love!
“Drawn by such cords we’ll onward move,
Till round the throne we meet,
And, captives in the chains of love,
Embrace our Savior’s feet.”
Ver. 3. “Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, Ο Lord of hosts, my King, and my God” The tender care of God, over the least of His creatures, is here most touchingly alluded to. The psalmist, while in exile, envies them their privileges. He longs to be nestling, as it were, in the dwelling place of God. The believer finds a perfect home and rest in God’s altars; or, rather, in the great truths which they represent. Still, his confidence in God is sweetened and strengthened by the knowledge of His minute, universal, providential care. It becomes his admiring delight. “God fails not,” as one has beautifully said, “to find a house for the most worthless, and a nest for the most restless of birds.” What confidence this should give us! How we should rest! What repose the soul finds that casts itself on the watchful, tender care of Him who provides so fully for the need of all His creatures! We know what the expression of “nest” conveys, just as well as that of “a house.” Is it not a place of security — a shelter from storm — a covert to hide oneself in, from every evil—a protection from all that can harm — “a place to rest in, to nestle in, to joy in?”
But there is one thing in these highly privileged birds which strikes us forcibly in our meditations — they knew not Him from whom all this kindness flowed — they knew neither His heart nor His hand. They enjoyed the rich provisions of His tender care; He thought of everything for their need, but there was no fellowship between them and the Great Giver. From this, Ο my soul, thou mayest learn a useful lesson. Never rest satisfied with merely frequenting such places, or with having certain privileges there, but rise, in spirit, and seek, and find, and enjoy direct communion with the living God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. The heart of David turns to God Himself. “My heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God.”
But that we may the better understand the true position and the spiritual meaning of the altars of God, let us take a glance for a moment at the camp in the wilderness.
Coming towards the tabernacle, we meet with the sin-offering. It is burning outside the camp. The sin with which the victim was charged, typically, is consumed there. This is the type of Christ, who knew no sin, made sin for us. The whole question of sin was settled on the cross. The sin of our nature, and the many sins of our life, were judged, condemned, and put away there. The blood of the sin-offering was taken within the vail, and its body was burnt to ashes outside the camp. The apostle, in alluding to this offering, observes, “For the bodies of those beasts, whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the high priest for sin, are burned without the camp. Wherefore Jesus also, that He might sanctify the people with His own blood, suffered without the gate.” Heb. 13:11, 1211For the bodies of those beasts, whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the high priest for sin, are burned without the camp. 12Wherefore Jesus also, that he might sanctify the people with his own blood, suffered without the gate. (Hebrews 13:11‑12).
And now, leaving the sin-offering behind, we enter the gate of the court. The first thing that meets us here, is the brazen altar, or altar of burnt offering: sin is not the question here. That has been dealt with outside. It is a sweet savor offering. Jesus, the spotless Lamb, is a sweet savor unto God. There is identification with the offering, on the part of the offerer, but no transfer of guilt to it. “And he shall put his hand upon the head of the burnt-offering; and it shall be accepted for him, to make atonement for him.” (Lev. 1:44And he shall put his hand upon the head of the burnt offering; and it shall be accepted for him to make atonement for him. (Leviticus 1:4).) This identification of the offerer with the offering, plainly sets forth the Christian’s identification with Christ in death, resurrection, ascension, and acceptance. The whole of the offering ascended as a sweet savor unto God. Infinite holiness, righteousness, and love, fed upon the burnt-offering. “Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it again.” (John 10:1717Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it again. (John 10:17).) The believer is one with Christ who died and rose again, and is accepted in the Beloved. When this truth is known in the soul, the believer has settled peace with God. He rests, as it were, in the altar. “Even thine altars, Ο Lord of hosts, my King and my God.” Not that the Jew ever had what we call settled peace; “For it is not, possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins.” But what they could not do, Christ has done. “For by one offering he hath perfected forever them that are sanctified.” (Heb. 10) So that the spiritual meaning of the types is now more fully revealed. “The darkness is past,” as John says, “and the true light now shineth.” Hence, Jewish terms are used in the New Testament, as illustrative, rather than descriptive of christian blessing. The terms “altars,” “sanctuary,” “tent,” and “tabernacle,” are full of instruction to the Christian, and are typical of that which is connected with our position, character, and blessing; but it is always better to study the shadow through the substance, than the substance through the shadow.
May we not say of many now, that they still linger in the cheerless desert, and never get nearer the tabernacle than the sin-offering? Like the publican they stand afar off, and cry, “God, be merciful to me a sinner;” but we can never tread the courts of the Lord, until, having seen our sins consumed in the wilderness, we pass through the gate. Then we can say with the apostle, “He who was delivered for our offenses” — as the sin-offering, “was raised again for our justification” — as the burnt-offering. Then the true consequences of faith in the complete work of Christ are divinely given. “Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ; by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” This is christian position, and perfect rest to the heart. Being justified— having peace — standing in grace — waiting for glory. Death, judgment, sin, Satan, the world, and the flesh, are all behind him, and nothing but the glory of God fills his bright future. He is to “rejoice in hope,” not merely of glory, but “of the glory of God.” For a believer to remain in the barren wilderness, and cry to God for mercy as a sinner, or as a leper outside the camp, is not humility, but dishonoring to the Lord, and injurious to ourselves. The Lord give us to rest in the work finished at the brazen altar, and to worship in the sweet fragrance of the golden altar.
“Ο Lord, the way, the truth, the life!
Henceforth let sorrow, doubt, and strife,
Drop off like autumn leaves!
Henceforth, as privileged by Thee,
Simple and undistracted be,
My soul which to Thee cleaves!”