Pictures From Eastern Lands
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: On Tombs
Travelers in Eastern countries have had a good deal to say about tombs. Those who have had the means and opportunity, have spent years and years of their lives in exploring and examining the tombs which are to be found in Palestine, Egypt, Syria, and other parts; or in digging in sands and rocks, and even under the beds of rivers, to discover tombs which they fancied might be hidden there. This is a curious way to spend one's Life, is it not? For tombs, you know, are the dwelling-places of the dead, and it seems a strange fancy for a living person to fritter away the precious hours in company with death.
But travelers in Eastern countries are not the only persons who act thus, any more than they are the only travelers in this wide world. You and I, dear reader, are travelers too, travelers through a region of sin and pain and sorrow, travelers from time to eternity; and so are all persons who are born into this world. And the question comes to us-What are we doing with the precious hours? How are we spending them? Are we journeying in the way of life, with the sunshine of God's love upon us? or are we hidden away among the dark unwholesome tombs, in company with death?
In a place called Gournou the people actually live in tombs. A celebrated traveler tells us that they have never erected a single house, although the materials for building them lie all around. They prefer the dark hollow rocks where the dead lie buried, and thither they bring their cows and camels, their buffaloes and sheep, their goats and dogs, and make themselves exceptionally comfortable. Instead of having the bright sun to light up their abodes, they have little lamps, kept alive by rancid oil, or the fat of sheep, and these are suspended from the black ceilings of the mummy-pits, in which they live. Often, when the traveler referred to went in to sup with them, he had no other seat than a heap of bones; and the food which was placed before him had been baked in ovens, which had been heated with mummy cases, or even with the bones and rags of the mummies themselves. In the Bible we are told of a rebellious people "which remain in the graves, and lodge in the monuments;" and the end of that people was to be death-death, like the mummies with which they chose to live-death by the hand of the Lord; because they did evil before His eyes, and chose that wherein He delighted not. (Isa. 65:12.) The people of Israel were a rebellious people, and when the Lord set before them 'Life and good, and death and evil,' and told them to love Him and walk in His ways, they chose death and did evil in His sight, and they had to be punished for it. And people to-day, young people as well as middle-aged and old people, are making the same choice. The Bible sets before them “the way of life and the way of death,” and they choose the last. That is to say, when Jesus tells them, “I am the way, the truth, and the life, no man cometh to the Father but by me,” they do not heed His words. They prefer to remain among the tombs (in “the shadow of death” as we might say), and have no desire that their blind eyes should be opened to see the light of life. The flickering light of their own smoky little lamps is more to them than the bright beams of the Sun of Righteousness, and so they go on in their state of darkness and unbelief, heedless of the Saviors tender invitation, and heedless, too, of that word of warning, "the lamp of the wicked shall be put out.”
“Ye will not come to me," is the sorrowful reproach of the One who loves them and died to save them; "Ye will not come unto me that ye might have life." How strange that He should thus be slighted and rejected by those for whom He suffered and died! Do you not think, dear reader, it is time to alter your treatment of this loving One, time to think more worthy thoughts of Him, time to trust yourself to those open arms of His? Surely, yes! Then why not take advantage of the present moment; why not come to Him now? I do not ask you to do this because you want Him (though you need Him greatly, whether you realize your need or not), but because He wants you. He came into this world to save you. "I am come," He says, "that ye might have life." He died to save you. He was the good Shepherd, "who gave his life for the sheep." He went into the place of death that you might be taken out of it. He went down to the grave that you might be with Him in the glory: and Jesus in heaven, not the gloomy society of the tombs, will be the end and object of your journey, if you take the place of a traveler in the narrow way. Do you not think that life with Jesus is better than death among the tombs? I am sure you do. The path of life-the only right path-leads up to the courts of heaven, but the chambers of death lead to the pit of hell. Faith in Jesus will set your feet in the right path; unbelief will keep you where you are. There is no uncertainty as to this, for God says it, and His words are not to be mistaken: "He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.”
Doubtless you have heard the Bible story of the man of Gadara, who had his dwelling among the tombs. Poor, unhappy man! he was in a sad way till Jesus met him. He was not responsible for his actions, as we should say, and people had to bind him with fetters and chains, lest he should do them harm. No one could tame him, for (like many persons in our own time) he was led captive by the devil at his will. And even when they did bind him, he used to break the chains and fetters, and get loose again; "and always, night and day, he was in the mountains, and in the tombs, crying, and cutting himself with stones." But one day Jesus crossed the sea of Galilee, and came into the country of the Gadarenes; and He had no sooner left the ship, than the man saw him. Oh, the wondrous power of a Look at Jesus! It was the salvation of that man. He saw Him; he believed in Him; and then he worshipped Him: and the unclean spirits which had vexed his Peace were driven away, and he was made whole and happy. Youthful reader, if you have not looked by faith to Jesus, you are like this poor demoniac, and need the Savior more than I can tell you. Satan is trying to keep you in the place of death, among the tombs; and though you may not know it, you are injuring yourself more and more, the longer you keep away from Christ—cutting yourself with stones, to use the scriptural figure. The loving counsels and gentle reproofs of your friends are the fetters and chains with which they seek to bind you, but when Satan presently tempts you to do wrong, you feel that you have no power to resist his allurements, and so you break the chains, and not only grieve your friends and make yourself unhappy, but grieve the loving heart of Jesus too. Well, now, if you will simply Look to Jesus, He will not only save your soul and make you immediately happy, He will not only forgive your sins and wash every stain of them away in His precious blood-though He will surely do all this-but He will also give you power over the great enemy of your soul, so that when he comes to you, you will be able to resist him, and take no harm by his attacks. Is not such a power as this worth having?
But I have not yet told you all I have to tell about tombs. It is a gloomy subject I grant you, though many persons seem to take another view of it. What a strange parade is sometimes made of death-and what a mine of wealth is often spent on tombs! I once read an account of a grand sepulcher which had been built many hundred years ago for one of the kings of Egypt. It was discovered after a great deal of trouble at a depth of eighteen fect in the ground (for the accumulating sand of ages had helped to bury it in this way), and when the outer door of the tomb was opened, the traveler who had made the discovery entered a corridor or passage, thirty-six fect long, the ceiling of which was decorated with paintings. At the end of the corridor was a staircase, leading clown to another door, which opened upon a second corridor, and the walls of this were painted as well as thc ceiling. Then he came to a deep pit, which he descended by means of ropes, till he carne to a large hole in the side of the pit, finto which he crawled. After proceeding a short distance, his progress was arrested by a wall of painted plaster, but having broken through this barrier, he found himself in a beautiful hall, supported by great pillars. In this way he passed in succession through several chambers, each more beautiful than the last, and separated by staircases and corridors, in one of which he found the carcass of a bull, and several wooden figures of mummies. Last of all, he came to a magnificent saloon, in the center of which was an immense stone coffin of the finest alabaster, quite transparent, and covered by several hundred minutely sculptured figures. This contained the mummy of the Egyptian king.
But with all its grandeur, the tomb of this Pharaoh was only a house of death: ah! and death is always death, dress it up as you will. We may embalm the body, and lay it in coffins of oak, or lead, or alabaster, it matters not; sooner or later it must fall to corruption, while the soul, the priceless, immortal soul, lives on. True, the bodies will be raised again one day, but we have nothing to do with that. The soul, and not the body, should be our deep concern. Those who make provision only for their bodies are taking care of the husk, and throwing the kernel away; they are treasuring the casket and throwing away the gem; and what folly can be greater than this? The resting-place of the body is, after all, of very, very little moment. Whether in the bed of the great ocean, or in some funeral urn; whether in a lofty pyramid, or beneath the grassy mound of a village churchyard; the Christian in his deal coffin is better-oh, how much better off than the Christless king in his sarcophagus of alabaster. And how is this?
The question brings us to our last mention of tombs; and, by way of variety, I will now introduce you to an empty tomb. The tomb of Jesus is an empty tomb. We are also told that it was a new tomb, which a rich man named Joseph had hewn out in the rock. Our illustration shows us one or two of these rock-hewn burial places, which are very common in the East, especially in the hill country round about Jerusalem; but it is difficult and expensive work digging out these chambers in the hard rock, and hence only rich people are buried in that way. The prophet Isaiah says of Jesus, that "he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death;" and thus, you see, though men could find no place for Him while He was going in and out among them, a rich man's tomb was ready for Him when He died. This is the way of the world. Joseph, to be sure, gave up his tomb to Jesus with the best of motives-love; but it is not so with all. The scribes and Pharisees who built the tombs of the prophets, and garnished the sepulchers of the righteous, sought to kill Jesus, who carne to fulfill what the prophets had written. "Woe unto you," He said, "for ye build the sepulchers of the prophets, and your fathers killed them."
What dreadful hypocrisy was this! How offensive it must have been to God! Insincerity and unreality of any kind are always hateful to Him, and persons who try to be what they are not, whether before God or before their fellowmen, only show that they are very blind. It is no use pretending to love God if we have not felt the power of His love in our hearts; it is no use pretending to be Christians if we have not placed our trust in His beloved Son. It was a custom with the Jews to whiten their sepulchers every year on the fifteenth of February, in order to make them Look clean and spotless; and a hypocrite is just like one of these sepulchers. Jesus Himself has used this illustration and speaking to the scribes and Pharisees, He said, “Ye are like unto whited sepulchers, which indeed are beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness.” Now no one covets a character like that; it is not pleasant to be likened to a place which is full of uncleanness and corruption: but to all who make pretensions of belonging to Christ, and yet have never placed themselves in His hands-to all such the term applies. The world is full of unrealities, and will one day pass away; but the abiding things are real. Heaven and hell are real; God is real; and the interests of our undying souls are very, very real.
But I was speaking of the tomb of Jesus. There was no corruption in that tomb. Corruption was the consequence of sin, and Jesus being without sin, God could not suffer His holy One to see corruption. Man, who wanted to see the end of Him, tried to keep Him in the place of death, but man's efforts were of no avail. A great stone was rolled before the mouth of the tomb, and a seal was fixed upon it, and men were put there to watch, lest the body of Jesus should be stolen away, but these were vain precautions. It was foolish of them to think that a sealed stone and a guard of soldiers could present any obstacles to the Son of God. We know what happened. During the night "there was a great earthquake; for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back Me stone from the door, and sat upon it"; and when Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James carne to the tomb next morning with heavy hearts, they were told to fear not, for Jesus was risen. And presently the wondrous news had passed onward to His disciples, and the awed, yet happy whisper, had gone round that little circle, "The Lord is risen! The Lord is risen indeed!”
And the tomb of Jesus was now an empty tomb. Think of that. Jesus had gone down into the dark regions of death because He had taken the sinner's place, and death was the sinner's doom; but it was not possible that He should be holden of death, and He rose triumphant out of it. And we who trust Him, knowing that He bore the death-penalty of all our sins, we have a place with Him beyond the tomb, and are looked upon as risen with Him. God will never punish us for sins which Jesus bore. That could never be.
" The Lord is risen: with Him we also rose,
And in His grave see vanquish'd all our foes.
The Lord is risen: beyond the judgment land,
In Him, in resurrection life we stand.”
Happy portion! And to all who are in the secret and enjoyment of this great blessing, the word of God is this: "IF YE TREN BE RISEN WITH CHRIST, SEEK THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE ABOVE, WHERE CHRIST SITTETH ON THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD. (Col. 3:1.)
CHAPTER ON FEASTS.
Chapter 2: On Feasts
SOME curious customs prevail in Eastern countries with regard to feasts.
The natives of Arabia, who are called Bedouins, never sit down to a meal without inviting some one to partake of it with them. No matter what the article of diet, whether dates, or potted flesh, or red pottage, or unleavened cakes served up with oil or honey, the rule is the same, and the invitation is never forgotten. Even if a Bedouin be traveling alone in the desert he will keep up the form; and having prepared his meal, will betake himself to some elevated spot in the neighborhood, and there deliver his invitation, three times over, in a loud voice. He may be well aware that there is no one within hearing, perhaps no one within a hundred miles of him, but that makes no difference, and his mind is not easy until he has discharged the duties of hospitality. In Egypt it is customary with the great and wealthy to send out a Janizary dressed in white, with red shoes, to invite the guests to the feast, and the message which he has to deliver is very often in these words: "Come, for all things are now ready.”
Perhaps you have read the story of the man who prepared a supper- "a great supper," as the story goes-and bade many; and how he "sent his servant at supper-time to say to them that were bidden, Come; for all things are now ready." Here was a treat if ever was! I have no doubt, had you been bidden to that supper, you would have gone. Of course you would. I know when I was a boy it was always a great treat to be allowed to stay up to supper, and as for going out to supper, well, the very thought of it would have kept me in spirits for a month. What will you say then, when I tell you that the guests invited by the man in the story shrugged their shoulders at the invitation, and refused to go? "They all with one consent began to make excuse." If you had been the kind host on such an occasion, what, think you, would you have done? If you had been to the expense of preparing the feast, and had covered your tables with every sort of dainty, with figs and raisins and dates and grapes; with bowls of milk and skins of wine; with stewed meats and cakes of bread; with crushed wheat and lentil soup, and melted butter-what, I say, would you have done? I do not know what your temper may be like, but you would need to have a very smooth one to remain unruffled under such a test as that. Mine could not have borne it, and, what perhaps is more to the question, the temper of the man in the parable could not, for we are told that he was angry. Eventually, in the kindness of his heart, and in order that his supper might be eaten, he opened his house to the poor and afflicted ones in the city, the dregs and outcasts of society, those who belonged, as we might say, to the narrow alleys and feverbreeding slums; and when he found that there was still room for more, he extended his invitation to the homeless ones outside the city, the wanderers in the highways and hedges; in order to insure a full house. But with all his kindness, he did not omit to tell his servant that none of those men which were bidden should taste of his supper.
Now all this is very instructive, and has its lesson for you. God has made a great supper, and has sent out his invitation, "Come, for all things are now ready." The invitation is to all: it includes the oldest and the youngest, the strongest and the weakest, the best and the worst, for "Whosoever will, may come." The supper is a supper of grace-the grace of God, and those who refuse the invitation are those who despise His grace, and have no wish to be with Him in heaven. Ah, my young reader! it is a dangerous thing to make excuses when such an invitation is brought to you. If you want to know how NOT to get to heaven, that is the way; there is no easier way than that. Remember, the man in the parable was angry when he heard the excuse of the invited ones, and declared that none of them should taste of his supper. Would you like to make God angry? No, no-I am sure you would not. Yet He is angry with the wicked every day; and what can be more wicked than to turn your back upon the gracious Savior, who, like the servant in the parable, stretches out His pierced hands and bids you come?
Speaking on the subject of feasts, did you ever hear of the Paschal Feast? I think you would be interested if I told you a little about that. Doubtless you know that while the children of Israel were in Egypt they were treated like slaves, and God raised up Moses to deliver them. Plague alter plague was sent upon the Egyptians to induce their king to let the people go, but he would not; and at length it was determined by God, that in order to subdue the stubborn will of Pharaoh, He would pass through the land on a certain night and slay all the firstborn, both of man and beast. But His own people were living in the land, and the question carne, How were their firstborn to be distinguished from the rest? To slaughter them indiscriminately would never do; indeed, it would not have been consistent with God to act so. What then was to be done? How was the difficulty to be surmounted? How was the distinction to be made? I will tell you. It was to be made by BLOOD. On that eventful night the lintels and door-posts of every house belonging to an Israelite were to be sprinkled with the blood of a lamb, so that when the Lord went through the land to destroy the firstborn, He might pass over the houses on which He saw the blood.
And what, think you, was to be done with the flesh of the hundreds of little lambs thus killed? This inquiry brings us to the subject which is more particularly before us now, the subject of the Paschal Feast. Well, the flesh was to be roasted at their fires, and eaten that same night with unleavened bread and bitter herbs; and nothing of it was to remain until the morning. That was the Paschal Feast.
Now there is a wonderful meaning in all this, and if you would like to know something that is worth knowing, I would advise you to learn what that meaning is. Going back to that memorable night, let me ask you what was the difference between the house of an Egyptian and the house of an Israelite? Well, you say, the lintel and side posts of the latter had blood upon them-it was sheltered by blood. To be sure; and that is just the difference between an unbeliever and a Christian. The latter is sheltered by blood—the blood of God's Lamb, the holy, spotless Jesus. If you are trusting Him, you are sheltered by His precious blood, you are safe from judgment. But perhaps you are restless and unhappy, because you are not quite sure that you are safe; and how is that? Who is responsible for your safety, yourself or God? On what does your safety rest, yourself or the blood? Why, my young friend, do you not see that by doubting your safety, you are doubting God? For it is He who looks upon the blood, and the blood is His own appointed remedy: "When I see Me blood, I will pass over you.”
And what of the Paschal Feast, the lamb roast with fire, the unleavened bread and the bitter herbs? Fire in scripture is the symbol of judgment, and when I read of the lamb roast with fire, it reminds me of Jesus, the Lamb of God, who endured on my account the fire of God's judgment, which had otherwise been my portion. Leaven is the symbol of sin, and the unleavened bread reminds me that now I am sheltered from judgment, and linked so blessedly with a suffering Jesus, I should keep myself separate from evil. "For oven Christ our passover is sacrificed for us: therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness; but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth." (1 Cor. 5:7, 8.) The bitter herbs betoken that subduedness of heart and mind, which should always characterize me when I muse upon the sufferings of Jesus, knowing that it was for my sins He suffered. And thus, in a few simple words you have the spiritual meaning of the Paschal Feast; may you also have the joy of partaking of it!
Travelers through Persia and Armenia have told us many interesting things about the hospitality of the people there. One traveler, who was journeying through the latter country, came one day to a small plain not far from Mount Ararat. A wandering tribe of Eelauts had pitched their encampment there, and the traveler, who was accompanied by a few followers, at once directed his course to the largest tent, in which he thought, and thought rightly, that the chief of the tribe might be found. No sooner did the fact of his approach become known than there was a stir in the encampment, and the Eelauts came swarming out from their black tents, like bees from a row of hives. Some of them took charge of his horses, and led them to their best pastures; others brought their carpets to their tent doors and spread them for the strangers to sit upon; and, to crown all, a woman was sent to the flock to choose a plump little lamb for cooking, which was made the foundation of a repast, in which the strangers were invited to join. Meanwhile, the most ancient man of the tribe, a toothless, whiteheaded old man issued from the big black tent, and came forward to welcome the visitors; who, you may be sure, were soon quite at home in the midst of so much kindness and hospitality; and I need scarcely add, that the feast was a very happy one.
But I can eclipse this story by another, in which I am sure you will say that the generosity displayed was greater, and the object of it much less deserving. A certain young man, who had formed a great desire to enjoy himself and to see what life was, persuaded his father to hand over to him the portion of goods to which he thought he was entitled; and then left his home, went away into a distant country, and wasted his substance in luxury and sinful pleasure. As long as his means lasted, and he could enliven his house with grand banquets of meat and vine, his friends kept near him; but when he had spent his all, and a famine came, and he began to be in want, then they deserted him; and such was the base ingratitude of the people of that land, that "no man gave unto him." When we next hear of him, he has joined himself to a citizen of that country, and we find him in a field feeding swine! He evidently got but little pay from his master, for he was sometimes so hungry that "he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat." What a change for him, was it not? From the place of joy and love and plenty, in his father's house, to the place of sorrow, desertion, and want among the swine-troughs of the far country! Well, his misery at last led him to go back to his father, whom he seems to have quite forgotten while he was rioting away the good things which he had brought from borne, and what do you think was his reception? Remember, he had spent all the money to which he was entitled, and had cruelly and coldly turned his back upon his home, and upon the father who had loaded him with benefits; many fathers would have closed their doors against the son who had been guilty of such conduct. But it was not so here. When the prodigal "was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." Of course, the son was very much broken down with this reception. He had never for a moment expected such a welcome. He had been preparing a neat little speech, in which he had thought of asking his father to make him one of his hired servants; but then the tightness of his father's embrace seems to have quite taken away the breath which he had been saving up for his speech; so he only got through the first half of it, and that was all the father wanted. "Father," he said, "I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.”
Now this is just a picture of the welcome which God has in store for every returning sinner. We have all wandered from the Father's house of plenty; we have all gone into the far country of sin and unbelief: we have all, more or less, been wasting on ourselves, and in the company of worldly companions, the talents which God has given us; but some of us have learned what it is to get to the end of our resources; we have learned what famine is; we have found ourselves deserted in the hour of need, and so have discovered that the world with all its feasting and its pleasures, is after all but a hollow sham. And those of us who have learned this lesson, have been led to think again of the Father's house, the house of love, and joy, and plenty; and with trembling hearts we have risen from the swine-troughs of shame and misery, and have turned our eyes wistfully toward heaven. "Oh!" we sighed, "if we could only find a servant's place within those pearly gates!" And then we have laid our faces in the dust and have confessed our sin and unworthiness; and while the cry was yet upon our lips, we have felt the Father's embrace, and the Father's kiss; and instead of the servant's place, have been received into His family as sons. "Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the children of God!”
Of course, when the father in the parable welcomed back his son, nothing would do but he must have a feast. First, however, he made him fit to be seen. He embraced him and kissed him while he was in his rags; and so our Father in heaven receives us in all our guilt and misery. He will never bid us go back to the swine-trough and wash our rags. But when He has received us, He makes us fit to be seen. "Bring forth the best robe," said the father of the prodigal to his servants, "and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet." So he was dressed up, and made in a fit condition to enter the father's house.
Now a robe in scripture is the symbol of righteousness; and Christ is the righteousness of God. Let me explain this to you. God, as a holy God, could never have a sinful person in His presence; and as a righteous God, He must punish sin. Well, Jesus, who knew no sin, was made sin for us, when He was upon the cross, and God punished Him in our stead. That was a righteous act on God's part, and ever after, Jesus was the expression-or proof, to use a simple word-of the righteousness of God. What then is the robe which is put upon me when God receives me? It is Christ. God looks at me through Christ, and on that account I am as pure and spotless in His holy eye as a white robe. And then the prodigal had a ring put upon his finger, and what does that mean? A ring is an emblem of love. A man who is being married places a ring on his wife's finger as a token of his love. Rings have neither beginning nor end, and the love of God is the Christian's ring, it has neither beginning nor end.
And then there were the shoes. The shoes which God supplies never wear out. During the forty years that the Israelites were in the wilderness, their shoes never wore out. "I have led you," said Moses, "forty years in the wilderness ... .and thy shoe is not waxen old upon thy foot." This world is a wilderness to the Christian who is walking in the footsteps of Jesus, a wilderness of thorns, and rough sand, and sharp flinty stones, and he needs the shoes of God to enable him to tread firmly and without fear. They are God's strength for the journey-in other words, the grace of God.
Then came the feast, when the father of the prodigal called for the fatted calf, and had it killed, and said, "Let us eat and be merry. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found." What a time of joy that must have been for all in the father's house! I doubt not you would like to have been there. But this is only a faint picture of the joy that is in heaven when a sinner repents and turns to God. Jesus tells us, "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth;" and a peculiar thing about the merry-making is, that we do not hear a single word about its coming to an end. We are only told that "they began to make merry.”
Dear child, if you have not yet accepted the invitation to the supper of God's grace, you are not yet in a condition to be received into the Father's house, to join in the merry-making there. You are still among the excuse-makers. If this be so, let me counsel you to lay aside this book for awhile, and go at once to receive the Father's welcome. He is waiting to welcome you, and the angels are waiting to make merry at your return.
“‘All things are ready,’ come,
Come all, both bad and good;
The best and worst both need alike
The Savior's cleansing Blood.
'All things are ready,' come,
Nor pass that Open door;
Too late, you may an entrance seek,
Too late, your Loss deplore.”
And if you do come, it will be your happy privilege to be invited by Jesus Himself to another supper, the Lord's Supper, to remember Him in His death. And in due time, when the wilderness journey is over, and you are at home in the Father's house, you will be permitted to sit down to yet another wondrous feast, the splendor and joy of which, no tongue or pen can describe, and that feast is, "The Marriage Supper of the Lamb.”
Chapter 3: On Law-Breakers
DIFFERENT countries have different laws, and the punishments for breaking them vary considerably Of course, I speak only of the laws which men have made; God's laws are the same everywhere, and the penalty for breaking them never varies. Some rulers can impose almost any punishments they like upon the people placed under them, while others are themselves bound by laws as strict as those which they administer. I read the other day a story of the Pasha of Aleppo, who was taking his morning walk through the bazaar of Antioch, when he carne upon a furrier, who was sitting, with a very sad face, beside a large heap of fox-tails, which he had bought some months before. The dejected looks of the furrier excited the curiosity of the Pasha, and stopping where the man sat, he asked the cause of his uneasiness. "Alas! my master," was the furrier's reply, "your servant has been cruelly deceived by an Armenian, who sold me these fox-tails very dear, assuring me that I should make good profit by them. And now they have been on my hands these three months; I have not sold one, and I am a ruined man." The Pasha, having heard the man's tale, promised that he would quickly put him in the way of selling his stock, and then left him. On the following day an order was sent from the Pasha's court, commanding all the Armenian merchants to appear before him, and when they were gathered in his presence, he began reproaching them for their cheating habits, called them foxes, and commanded every one of them to wear a fox's tail upon his person, as a penalty for his cunning. As you may imagine, there was very soon a run upon the furrier's stock, and as he asked a high price for his tails, of course, he made a handsome profit out of them. That, now, was a specimen of Turkish justice; but fancy what effect a sentence like that would have produced in England! Thus you see how laws differ.
Perhaps these Armenians deserved all they got, but then there was no proof against them; and it was one of their number, not all of them, who cheated the poor furrier. God's laws are not administered in that way.
Bribery, too, is sometimes practiced in courts of law; that is to say, the guilty person or his friends will pay the judge to deal lightly with his case, or to let him go free; but there is no such deliverance for those who break the law of God. God will not be bribed: and though people often talk of making atonement for the past, and fondly imagine that the good actions of their lives will go to wipe out the consequences of their bad ones, they are making a great mistake. God's law says, "eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe;" and the penalty must be submitted to. A person under the law who commits an offense for which the penalty is death, must die; and there is no escaping the sentence, for God is inflexible in His justice, and always performs what He says.
Some years ago an English merchant in Morocco was quarreling with some Moors, and an angry scuffle took place. An old woman happened to be passing that way, and quite by accident, the merchant struck her in the face, knocking out two of her teeth. For this he was put in prison, and in course of time, was brought before the Sultan of Morocco, an exceptionally mild and humane ruler; but such was the strictness of the law, that the merchant was sentenced to lose two of his own teeth, and the sentence was carried out. This is a feeble illustration of the inflexibility of God's law.
But the laws which God frames, have to do with the souls of men, as well as with their bodies, and I read in His word, "The soul that sinneth it shall die." Now this is a very serious matter. In my chapter on tombs, I told you something about life, but here I am returning to the subject of death. "The soul that sinneth it shall die." Perhaps you are trying to keep the law of God. Well, that passage applies to you, and if you have sinned a single sin, you must die. Sin-death; the two words are linked together; and "The wages of sin is death.”
“Oh! but," you say, "I am not so sinful as that!”
The law says: "The wages of sin is death.”
You say: "But my sins are so few and small, and people very seldom find fault with me.”
The law says: "He that has offended in one point, is guilty of all.”
You say: "But I am not nearly so black as So-and-so.”
The law says: "There is no difference; for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”
You say: "But I say my prayers, and sing hymns, and read my Bible, and people often praise me for being good.”
The law says "All your righteousnesses are as filthy rags.”
From this it will be plain to you that as long as you are under the law, you are in a very awkward and dangerous position. You are like a prisoner who has been condemned to die, and is only awaiting execution. "Condemned already," is the way the Bible speaks of your condition; and so long as you are under the law, it can describe you in no better terms. Do not mistake me. Do not think I am speaking against the law. It may seem very terrible to your mind-as terrible as the thunders on Mount Sinai, from whence the ten commandments were given, but still, it is holy, just, and good All I wish to say is, that by trying to keep it you will never get to heaven.
When I was a boy, I was neither very fond of my school nor my schoolmasters, and in that respect I think my tastes resembled those of most other boys. Home, and the society one meets with at home, had always much greater attractions for me than the dreary schoolroom and the stern unbending schoolmaster. But before I could start in life, both schools and schoolmasters were necessary; and so it is with the law. Before we can see the need of a new life, the law has a very important lesson to teach us, and that is, our own sinfulness. "By the law is the knowledge of sin," and the apostle Paul, when writing to Christians, said, "the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ." But the moment we have made our start in life—the new life of course I mean, in other words, the moment we have trusted in Christ (for he that believeth on the Son hath life), then there is no further need of a schoolmaster. "After that faith is come," says the apostle, "we are no longer under a schoolmaster." The grace of God, which brings salvation, delivers me from the bondage of the law; the law being like a heavy chain, which falls off the soul directly grace appears.
I suppose you have never been to Arabia, and gazed upon Mount Sinai. Strictly speaking, the Mount does not consist merely of one elevation, but is an enormous pile of mountains extending for nearly forty miles, its jagged peaks almost lost among the clouds. Had you been there at the time of which I write, you would have seen a strange sight, a sight such as your eyes had never seen before, and which would have frightened you not a little. You would have seen the heavens grow dark, and great black clouds roll, muttering, above your head; and then your ears would have been almost deafened with the loud thunder-claps, and your eyes would have been almost blinded by the lurid flashes of fire which lighted up the Mount. And presently you would have seen one dark dense cloud settling upon the Mount, and have heard a loud voice like the sound of a trumpet, issuing from the cloud; and while you yet gazed, you would have seen great volumes of smoke proceeding from the mountain, "as the smoke of a furnace," while the mountain itself would have rocked before your eyes! And why, you ask, were these dreadful convulsions? Why the smoke which seemed to issue from the mountain? It was because the Lord was descending upon it, and was about to give the law to His servant Moses.
And now, come with me, and I will show you another picture-a brighter and happier one than this. It is night, and we are in Judea, with the stars of heaven shining above our heads. In yonder field some shepherds are lying, keeping watch over their sheep. Suddenly, a dazzling light envelopes them, and in the midst of the light they see an angel's shining form. It is the angel of, the Lord! At first they are sore afraid; but when the angel begins to speak to them their fears vanish. He tells them that he comes with good and joyful news-news, not for them only, but for "all people;" and the news is this. A Savior has just been born into the world-a Savior for lost sinners; and the shepherds are directed to Bethlehem where the Savior is lying-a little babe in a manger. And while the angel is yet speaking, he is joined by numbers more-a multitude of the heavenly host; and with one voice they break forth into this song, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward man." There is no law here, is there? No, you say, it is all grace.
Now, if you put these two pictures together, you will be able to understand a little the difference between law and grace. "The law was given by Moses; grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." The law, which shows man the wickedness and ruin of his own heart, was given amid fire, and thunders, and earthquakes. Grace and truth, which show what the heart of God is, were ushered in by angels' songs from the midst of shining glory. The law came with a curse, demanding from man what was due to God; grace and truth carne with a blessing, giving to man what man had never deserved. The former said, "Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law, to do them." The latter said, "By grace ye are saved, through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. NOT OF WORKS, lest any man should boast." The gift of God. Dear reader, as your eyes are upon these lines, can you say from your heart, "Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift"? (2 Cor. 9:15.)
"Free from the law, oh, happy condition!
Jesus hath bled, and there is remission!
Cursed by the law, and bruised by the fall,
Christ hath redeemed us, once and for all.
“Now are we free, there's no condemnation,
Jesus provides a perfect salvation;
'Come unto me,' oh, hear His sweet call,
Come, for He saves us, once and for all.”
Once for all, O sinner receive it;
Once for all, O brother believe it:
Trust in the Lord, the burden will fall,
Christ hath redeemed us, once and for all.
Chapter 4: On Wells
ILL-NATURED people will quarrel about anything. Indeed, I have known some people commence a quarrel about nothing at all, just for the strange pleasure of wrangling. Everything that everybody does is wrong in their idea, and so they begin to haggle about it; and when they do thus begin, it is quite impossible to conjecture when they will leave off. I once heard of a man, who had so let this habit grow upon him, that he seldom opened his lips except to quarrel; and would sometimes talk himself into such a passion that he would burst into tears in the midst of speaking! I should imagine that king Solomon came across some people of this stamp in his day, especially among the women, for he says that a comer on the house-top is better than a brawling woman in a wide house; and somewhere else he likens a contentious woman to the continual dropping on a rainy day.
But what made me speak of quarreling was the fact, that so much of it goes on at wells. Even in the Bible we read that "the herdsmen of Gerar did strive with Isaac's herdsmen; and he called the well Ezek, contention." (Gen. 26:20.) There was once a certain Roquedah, who had command of a small coasting vessel in Arabian waters. Driven one day, by stress of weather into a little bay, called Birk Bay, he sent some of his sailors on shore to procure water, for which, in that neighborhood, it is always customary to pay. When the sailors reached the well, however, the price which the Bedouins wanted to charge was so exorbitant, that they refused to pay it, and a quarrel ensued. Eventually the men returned to their vessel with-out the water, and reported to the Roquedah what had taken place. Their recital was no sooner finished than the Roquedah rose in great wrath, and declared that if he could not get the water at his own price, he would have it for nothing; and buckling on his armor, he stepped into the boat, and ordered the sailors to conduct him to the shore. On reaching the well he found that the Bedouins were not less disposed for fighting than himself; but as their numbers were inferior to those of the Roquedah, they quietly sent for assistance, and meanwhile delayed hostilities by feigning a desire to come to terms. Within a quarter of an hour their number had increased to nearly one hundred, and feeling strong enough to commence an attack, they changed their policy, and refused to part with their water at any price. In the strife that followed, the Roquedah and two of his sailors were killed, and the rest were glad enough to beat a retreat, and to get back in safety to their boat. How sad is all this! Just think of it for a moment. Three precious lives lost, three immortal souls sent suddenly into eternity, and all over a childish squabble about the price of some water at a well! When will men learn wisdom?
Though the title of my book should, strictly speaking, keep me to Eastern Lands, I cannot resist the temptation to call back your thoughts awhile to your own favored country, in order that I may bring to your notice something quite unique in the way of wells.
The well in question is at Knaresborough, in Yorkshire, and is called the Dropping Well. It rises in a rock, and drops into a little pool below; and objects which get in the way of its little shower, soon get turned to stone. Yes, turned to stone; and if you were to go yourself, and take a peep at the well, you would see exactly what I mean. Hanging from the polished rock are all sorts of strange articles, which have been turned to stone by the action of this dropping well. Hats, that were once of the smoothest felt; shoes, that were once of the most elastic leather; toy-houses, from which you might once have sucked the paint (painted toys have a knack of finding their way to the mouths of some children); birds' nests, which once were warmly lined with moss and feathers; birds, which might once have snuggled in those very nests, all turned to stone, and numerous other objects besides! Sin and unbelief are like the Dropping Well of Knaresborough, for they turn our hearts to stone. You know what a stony heart means in the Bible-it means a heart which has been hardened by sin or unbelief. The people of Israel made their hearts like "an adamant stone," in order that the words which God had to say to them might have no effect. (Zech. 7:12.) When God is going to save a person, He takes away his stony heart and gives him a heart of flesh (Ezek. 11:19, and 36:26), so that we may say that the stony-hearted people are the unbelieving, who belong to the world; and the people with hearts of flesh are the Christians, who belong to Christ. The stony-ground hearers in Matt. 13, you will remember, came to no good.
But scripture has quite another meaning for a well, than sin or unbelief. A well is fed from heaven, from whence the thirsty soul looks for salvation. And Isaiah says, "Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation." The waters of a well are continually running; but the pleasures of sin (which are the muddy waters at which poor human nature drinks) are soon exhausted. A broken cistern is a better figure of the source from which all sinful pleasures flow. When the people of Israel wandered from the Lord, He charged them with having committed two evils: "They have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." Every man, woman, and child in this wide world is drinking at one or the other of these two sources-at the fountain of living waters, which is Christ, or at the broken cisterns of the world. From which source, dear reader, are you drinking?
Wells are to be met with in all countries, but they are most common in the East. In almost all cases they lie outside the cities, and the task of drawing the water devolves upon the women. They usually go to the wells in companies, choosing the cool of the mornings and evenings for that purpose. It is mostly the unmarried ones who do this sort of work, and they dress themselves up in fine style on such occasions, having their necks and arras loaded with ornaments; for they often meet with shepherds at the well, who marry them. Thus they sometimes go away with a full heart as well as a full pitcher. "The girls who flock around our fountain to fill their pitchers," says one traveler, "often crowd and jostle each other, and the jug of some one of them falls upon the pavement, and is dashed in pieces, and there is 'the pitcher broken at the fountain,' irreparably broken, its value and usefulness at an end, the emblem used in scripture of old age and the end of life.”
You are fond of stories, so here is a true story about a well: Many many years ago, there lived a long way from here, at a town called Gerar, an old man named Abraham, who had two wives. The name of the one was Sarah, and the name of the other Hagar; and Hagar had a son named Ishmael, but Sarah had no child. Now, an angel had told Abraham before they went to Gerar, that Sarah should one day have a child; but Sarah had laughed at what the angel said, and would not believe the message which God had sent. She would often feel lonely and unhappy, too, through not believing the angel's words, for she was an old woman, and had no other reason for thinking that she would ever be like Hagar. But what made her most unhappy of all was that Hagar often mocked her, because she had no child, and the taunts were hard to bear, as Hagar was only Abraham's bondwoman, whilst Sarah was his father's own daughter. God, however, never breaks His word, and so, in spite of her unbelief, a little son was born to her, whom she called Isaac.
Then one day Abraham made a great feast in honor of his son; and Sarah and Hagar, as well as Ishmael, and a great many of Abraham's servants were invited to the feast. For some time they were very happy, and, I dare say, Abraham and Sarah talked a great deal about their little son, and thought of very little else beside him; but I am only guessing this. The Book from which I get my story does not tell me so. At all events, everything went on very smoothly until Sarah, chancing to look across the tent at Ishmael, saw that he was mocking her. This was too much for poor Sarah, so when she was once more alone with Abraham, she said to him, "Cast out this bondwoman and her son, for the son of this bondwoman shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaac." Yet these words only grieved Abraham, for he was a kind and gentle man; and though Hagar had often treated him hardly, he loved her because of Ishmael their son.
But whilst he was still standing, not knowing what to do, God spoke to Abraham, and told him not to be grieved about them, but to listen to Sarah's voice, and to turn them out as she had asked him. So Abraham got up early in the morning, and took some bread and a bottle of water; and when he had told Hagar and her son what he was going to do, he put the bottle on her shoulder, and placed her bread in her hand, and sent them both away.
Now you must know, that all the land round Gerar was very wild, and nothing at all grew there that was fit to eat. There were no men or women either, or houses, or anything that would make people comfortable: nothing but stones, and dry sand, and ugly, prickly shrubs. So Hagar took Ishmael by the hand, and they walked on together till they carne to the wilderness, when Hagar took the bottle off her shoulder and gave Ishmael some water out of it; and then they went on again, farther and farther into the wilderness, until they were quite lost, and by that time Ishmael began to wish that he had never mocked Sarah. Then it began to get dark, and the stars carne out; but they still kept going on, and on, and on, till Ishmael was too tired to go a step further. Then Hagar laid him on the sand, and wrapped her cloak round him, and placed his head on her shoulder; and soon he was fast asleep. The sun woke them again next morning, and they got up, and went on with their journey; but they only seemed to get deeper and deeper into the wilderness, and by the time it was dark again, the bread was all gone, and the bottle was nearly empty. Then at last the time came when that was empty too; and Ishmael began to cry out for more water; but there was no stream anywhere about, and there were no clouds in the sky, and the sun was very hot. And presently Ishmael became so weak that he could not stand upon his feet, and the sun scorched his forehead, so that he began to say strange things, and did not know his mother's voice when she spoke to him; and he lifted up his hands for more water, but there were no clouds still, and there was no stream to be seer. Then Hagar looked anxiously at Ishmael, and on his hot, parched lips, and began to think that he was dying; but she said, "Let me not see the death of the child." So she laid him under one of the shrubs, and went away a little distance, and turned her face away from the shrub, and began crying very bitterly.
But God was looking upon her all the while, and upon Ishmael too; and when He saw their tears, His angel called to Hagar, and asked her why she was unhappy, and told her that God had heard her child's cry, and was going to bless her in a way that she had little thought of. So she went to the shrub where Ishmael was lying, and lifted him up, and took his helpless little hand in hers; and then God opened her eyes, and she saw a WELL OF WATER, and she went and filled the bottle, and gave Ishmael to drink.
How many Hagars and Ishmaels there are in this wilderness-world to-day! How many think only of making provision for the present, and forget all about their needs for the eternal future! How many are filling their bottles at the broken cisterns of this world, forgetting that sooner or later the water will all be spent, and death will be staring them in the face! Oh what folly; what blindness! But then God opened Hagar's eyes, and she saw a WELL OF WATER. Ah! that is it. A well of water. You see, when God gives He gives with no niggard hand. Abraham gave Hagar a bottle of water-God gave her a well. And it is just so now. When the water in our poor, wretched little bottles is spent, and we cry to Him in our need, He opens our eyes, and shows us a well of water. "He! every one that thirsteth come ye to the waters;" that is God's invitation. "Let him that is athirst come; and whosoever will let him take of the water of life freely.”
Captain Basil Hall, who was a great traveler, tells us that he could never see a Hindoo female sitting by the steps of a well in India, with her arm thrown wearily over the unfilled water-pot, without thinking of the beautiful story of the woman of Samaria. Perhaps you know this story; no matter, it is worth repeating.
When Jesus was down here, a Man amongst men, there were no people more anxious to get rid of Him than those to whom He specially came-the Jews. They were His chosen people; but they hated Him, saw no beauty in Him, and tried to cast Him out. "He carne unto his own, and his own received him not." And so we find Him, on the occasion mentioned in the story, leaving Judæa where the true Jews dwelt, and going into Samaria, which was peopled by men and women with whom the Jews would have nothing to say. The Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans. (John 4:9.)
But Jesus was more than a mere Jew. True, in grave He had taken the form of a man, and had linked Himself with the Jewish people by being born in Bethlehem, a city of Judæa. But then He was also the Son of God; and as the Son of God, He could have dealings with whom He pleased. There was no limit to the activity of His love in this character. A Jew and a Samaritan were both alike to Him; and wherever there was a needy soul Jesus was willing to supply the need.
Well, on His way through Samaria, He carne to a city called Sychar, where there was a well; and being weary after His long journey, He sat down upon it. Think of that, the Son of God weary! He who made the world, and the whole universe of worlds, weary! Ah! but He was Man as well as God, and as Man He suffered all that man can suffer, apart from sin. Weariness, hunger, pain, sorrow-Jesus passed through all these; and the measure of His sufferings was deeper than that of any other man. But while He was thus sitting on the well, alone and weary, a Samaritan woman carne from the city to draw water. I have told you that the women usually go to the wells in companies, and choose the cool of the mornings or evenings for that purpose; but this woman came alone, and the hour of her visit was the hour of noon, the hottest part of the day. Why was that? Ah! poor woman, hers had been a bad life, a life of sin and shame, and none would associate with her now; doubtless that is why she came alone. And it would seem that she made her journey to the well at noon, because at that time there would be fewer persons about, the great heat keeping nearly every one within doors. Well, the woman was alone with Jesus. And now, what did Jesus do? The Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans; and Jesus was a Jew. Did He rise from the well and move away from the Samaritan woman? No. But He was holy, and she was defiled. Did He not leave her on that account? No. "Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink.”
This was a wonderful scene. The Son of God asking a drink of water from a poor, sinful woman, whom even her neighbors thought beyond hope, so evil had been her life. The woman herself, although she seemed to have no thought of her lost condition, and certainly had no knowledge of the One in whose presence she stood, even she was surprised. "How is it," she asked, "that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria?" That was her difficulty; and the answer which she received only seemed to increase her perplexity. "If," said Jesus, "thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink, thou wouldst have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water." What did she know of "living water"? Nothing at all.
By degrees, however, an uneasy feeling is awakened in her conscience, for Jesus begins to tell her something of her past history; and she finds that He can read her thoughts, and her wonder is very great. Then, as the long, dark scroll of her wasted life is unrolled before her, and her eyes fall with shame before the gaze of the Son of God, she says to Him, "Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet." At the beginning of the interview the woman had been very talkative (as people usually are before they get consciously into God's presence); but Jesus had listened to her words with lowly patience, correcting from time to time her misguided thoughts, till the fitting moment carne to tell her who He was. She had heard of the Messiah, the great King who had been promised to Israel, who was to sit upon David's throne and rule the world; but she did not know that the wearied, lowly Man, who sat beside her on the well, was He. "I know," she said, "that Messias cometh, which is called Christ: when he is come he will tell us all things.”
But the moment had now come for Jesus to make Himself known to her, and the wondrous announcement fell upon her ears, "I THAT SPEAK UNTO THEE AM HE." In a moment her darkness and misery vanished. Jesus had opened the eyes of her soul, and given her to see (as distinctly as her bodily eyes could see the well of Sychar) the well of water of which He had been speaking. "Living water" indeed it was water that would satisfy her every need; "a well of water springing up into everlasting life." In possession of such a well, no wonder that she left her water-pot, and went into the city to tell others of the discovery which she had made.
Dear friend, this "living water" may be yours. It is God's free gift to you. "Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." (Rev. 22:17.) The water from other wells has to be paid for, but this may be had "without money and without price." "Abraham reproved Abimelech because of a well of water, which Abimelech's servants had violently taken away." (Gen. 21) But at this well there is room for all; every one is invited to drink of it. Some people, the self-righteous people of the old Pharisee type, will have no water unless they pay for it; and so they have to go without, or satisfy themselves at the broken cisterns of the world. Their language is the language of Israel to the king of Edom, "If I and my cattle drink of thy water, then I will pay thee for it." They will not take a gift even from the hand of God. How foolish to be so proud, is it not?
But you, dear reader, will not refuse? You will not turn away? "The living water" is worth having, don't you think so? You do not like the thought of death; you would like to live forever. Well, then, "The gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord." Get alone with Jesus, like the woman of Samaria, and He will give you of His Holy Spirit, which will be in you "a well of water, springing up into everlasting life.”
"Sweet was the hour, O Lord, to Thee,
At Sychar's lonely well,
When a poor outcast heard Thee there,
Thy great salvation tell.
“Lord, 'twas Thy power unseen that drew
The stray one to that place,
In solitude to learn from Thee
The secrets of Thy grace.
“There Jacob's erring daughter found
Those streams unknown before,
The waterbrooks of life, that make
The weary thirst no more.
“And, Lord, to us, as vile as she,
Thy gracious lips have told
That mystery of love, reveal'd
At Jacob's well of old”
Chapter 5: On Tents
NEARLY every child knows What a tent, or tabernacle, is. It is a sort of portable house, usually made of canvas or goat's hair, and used by people of wandering habits, such as the Turkomans, or Arabs. Tents were used even before the Flood; and we read that Jabal "was the father of such as dwell in tents." (Gen. 4:20.) The patriarchs, who represented the people of God, in the early days of the world's history, were dwellers in tents. They had no settled home in a world that was full only of sin and sorrow. "Abraham removed... unto a mountain on the east of Bethel, and pitched his tent." (Gen. 12:8.) "Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tents." (Gen. 25:27.) "And Isaac pitched his tent in the valley of Gerar, and dwelt there." (Gen. 26:17.) What a contrast between these three tent-men and the murderer Cain! Cain, who wanted to do without God, "builded a city." (Gen. 4:16.) Abraham "by faith... sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise; for he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." (Heb. 11:9, 10.) Cain built himself a city; the patriarchs waited for a city which God would build for them. Meanwhile, they were content to be as pilgrims in the world, moving their tents from place to place, as they passed through it, and looking upon it as a desert land, a waste, howling wilderness.
The Israelites, until they got into Canaan, were dwellers in tents. When Balaam went to the top of Mount Peor to curse them, he "lifted up his eyes and.... saw Israel abiding in his tents;" and instead of cursing them he blessed them, and was moved to exclaim, "How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel!" (Num. 24:2-5.) But directly the people got into Canaan their tent life came to an end, for the wilderness journey was over, and they could settle down in the shelter of more substantial houses.
Now, every Christian, dear reader, is a pilgrim—a pilgrim through a wilderness of sorrow, sin, and death—and he has his tent, which he must carry about with him to the end of his journey. If you are a Christian you have your tent; and I will tell you what it is. It is your body. Yes, your body. St. Paul says that, "We know if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens;" and he is speaking of a believer's body. Often he found his own tent very heavy to carry; and we hear him saying, "We that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened" (2 Cor. 5:1, 4); and I am sure that this is the language, more or less, of every Christian pilgrim. To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord; and who, among the children of God, would not welcome such a change?
In eastern countries a great deal of money is sometimes spent on tents. I have read of a king of Persia, who "caused a tent to be made that cost £150,000. It was called the ‘House of Gold,’ because there was nothing but gold that glistened in every part of it." I have heard, also, of a magnificent tent, which was covered on the outside with scarlet cloth, and on the inside with violet-colored satin, and ornamented with animals and flowers, formed, of precious stones and pearls. Another tent was lined with camel's hair, took three years to build, and cost 25,000 piasters.
But the tent which a Christian carries is not to be so adorned. Our bodies are bodies of sin and humiliation, and are not worth lavishing money upon. I know some little people who are very fond of adorning themselves with trinkets and gay dresses; but then, I am sorry to say, they are not Christians, and on that account they can scarcely be expected to know better. Christians are told not to let their adorning "be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is, in the sight of God, of great price." And so St. Paul tells the women to adorn themselves with "modest apparel," "not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array;" but, I am afraid, his words are often forgotten now-a-days, even by Christians.
But although a Christian should not adorn the outside of his tent, he has a Guest inside of it, which more than makes up for the plain exterior. And who is that? you ask. It is the Holy Spirit of God. "Know ye not," says the apostle Paul, "that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you?”
What! you say, a Person in a person. How can that be? Well, dear reader, did you ever read the Bible story of the man with the unclean spirits? You may read all about him in the fifth chapter of Mark; and if you look at the verses carefully you will find that these wicked spirits were actually dwelling in the man, and further, that they could both hear and speak. Now, if wicked spirits could take up their abode in people in this way, could not the Holy Spirit of God do the same? To be sure He could. Every believer in Jesus, then, carries about with him this divine Person; and it is His gracious office to comfort, counsel, and correct us, as well as to teach us how to worship God and pray to Him. When our hearts are troubled it is He who comforts them; when they are needing guidance it is He who illuminates them; when they are getting cold and careless it is He who revives them, for He takes "of the things of Christ, and shows them unto us." (John 16:14.) As worshippers He leads our praises; as suppliants at the throne of grace He gives us right words to utter; and when the difficulties of the way so crush our hearts that we cannot pray at all, he "maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered." What a wondrous Guest to carry about in these tents of ours, is He not? How careful this should make us in all we think, or say, or do! Though He is always with us, and can never be taken from us, we may grieve Him; and if we grieve Him, all our happiness for the time is gone.
But there is another dweller in our tents besides the gracious Guest of whom I have just spoken-not as a guest, however, for he has, lived in us since the day of our birth-and that is Self. He is a greedy, worthless monster, who has a great idea of his own importance, and will lead us into all sorts of trouble if we are not careful. The Bible has another name for Self, and that is the flesh. He is told to make no provision for it (Rom. 13:14), "but to starve it, trample it under foot, and not allow it to have a voice." "They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh," and on that account we may treat it like a dead person. Directly we allow it to become active, and begin coddling it with the sinful pleasures of the world, we stir up strife in the tent; "for the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary the one to the other." (Gal. 5:17.) If we would be of service to others, we must walk in the Spirit, and not fulfill the lusts of the flesh; but we cannot do this so long as we are making excuses for our bad tempers, our pride, our selfishness, and so on. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance" (Gal. 5:22,23); and if we were only “filled with the Spirit,” as God would have us to be, what a tent full of happiness would be ours!
Now that I have brought you into the desert, or wilderness, I should like to speak a little more on this subject. Did you ever hear of a mirage? Well, I will tell you a story of one, or, at least, will let the traveler himself, who saw the mirage, tell you the story in his own words. Having related how he entered the Egyptian Desert in company with some friends, and told of what happened during the first few miles of his journey, he continues: "By degrees the conversation flowed into another channel, and our imagination became occupied by the singular features of the landscape. Here and there the rocks, though never rising to any great height, put on the appearance of houses, fortresses, or ruined castles, perched on gray cliffs, overhanging ravines, narrow and tortuous, whose mouths only presented themselves to the eye as we passed. To these succeeded broad, flinty, or sandy valleys; long reaches, like the bed of a great river, between bare, stony mountains, alternating with extensive plains of sand or gravel; hillocks of various colors; and winding tracks through passes, where a few Bedouins might easily rout a whole caravan I had been riding along in a reverie, when, chancing to raise my head, I thought I perceived, desertwards, a dark strip on the far horizon. What could it be? My companion, who had very keen sight, was riding in advance of me, and, with a sudden exclamation, he pulled up his dromedary, and gazed in the same direction. I called to him, and asked him what he thought of yonder strip, and whether he could make out anything in it distinctly. He answered, that water had all at once appeared there; that he saw the motion of the waves, and tall palms and other trees, bending, up and down over them, as if tossed by a strong wind. An Arab was at my side, with his face muffled up in his burnous. I roused his attention, and pointed to the object of our inquiry. “Mashallah!” cried the old man, with a face as if he had seen a ghost, and stared with all his might across the desert. All the other Arabs of the party evinced no less emotion; and our interpreter called out to us, that what we saw was the evil spirit of the desert, that led travelers astray, luring them farther and farther into the heart of the waste, ever retreating before them as they pursued it, and not finally disappearing till its deluded victims had irrecoverably lost themselves in the pathless sands. This, then, was the mirage. My companion galloped towards it, and followed him, though the Arabs tried to prevent us; and, ere long, I could, with my own eyes, discern something of this strange phenomenon. It was, as my friend had reported, a broad sheet of water, with fresh green trees along its banks; and yet there was nothing actually before us but parched yellow sand. The apparition occasioned us all very uncomfortable feelings, and yet we congratulated ourselves on having seen, for once, the desert wonder.
“The phenomenon really deserves the name the Arabs give it, of Goblin of the Desert; an evil spirit that beguiles the wanderer from the safe path, and mocks him with a false show of what his heated brain paints in glowing colors. Whence comes it that this illusion at first fills with uneasiness, I might say, with dismay, those even who ascribe its existence to natural causes! On a spot where the bare sands spread out for hundreds of miles, where there is neither tree nor shrub, nor a trace of water, there suddenly appeared before us groups of tall trees, proudly girding the running stream, on whose waves we saw the sunbeams dancing. Hills clad in pleasant green rose before us, and vanished; small houses, and towns with high hills and ramparts, were visible among the trees, whose tall boles swayed to and fro in the wind like reeds.
“Far as we rode in the direction of the apparition, we never came any nearer to it. The whole seemed to recoil, step for step, with our advance. We halted, and remained long in contemplation of the magic scene, until whatever was unpleasant in its strangeness ceased, by degrees, to affect us. Never had I seen any landscape so vivid as this seeming one; never water so bright, or trees so softly green, so tall and stately. Everything seemed far more charming there than in the real world; and so strongly did we feel this attraction, that, although we were not driven by thirst to seek for water where water there was none; still we would willingly have followed on and on after the phantom; and thus we could well conceive how the despairing wanderer, who, with burning eyes, thinks he gazes on water and human dwellings, will struggle onward to his last gasp to reach them, until his fearful, lonely doom befalls him.
“We returned slowly to our Arabs, who had not stirred from the spot where we left them. Looking back once more into the desert, we saw the apparition gradually becoming fainter, until at last it melted away into a dim hand, not unlike a thin mist sweeping over the face of a field.”
The Christian pilgrim, traveling through the desert scenes of this world, will sometimes see the mirage. When he first becomes a pilgrim, his thoughts are all of Christ; his affections are set on things above, where Christ is; he is "looking unto Jesus," the Author and Finisher of his faith; and so the wilderness through which he is passing, affects him but very little. Presently, however, he gets a little weary; he sees difficulties and dangers around him, which he never saw while he was looking off to Jesus; and then he begins to chafe and fret, and to sigh a little for the pleasures which he had forsaken when he became a Christian. And then the evil spirit of the desert, Satan, conjures up before him a beautiful mirage, and beguiling him from the safe path, leads his stumbling and half willing feet towards it. At first the sight fills him with uneasiness and dismay; he knows that he is doing wrong, and will have to suffer for it; but his eyes are off their proper Object, and he will not look away from the false but beauteous scene towards which he is hastening. Farther and farther he wanders from the narrow path, and his eyes get more and more fascinated with the garish picture; but as he advances it recedes before him, and presently he begins to find that, with all his efforts, he can get no pleasure from it after all. It is only a mirage. In the days before he became a pilgrim, things were different; the world could give him a little pleasure then; he could squeeze a certain amount of happiness (sinful happiness, of course) out of it; but now, the pleasure vanishes at his approach, and he cannot grasp it. Somehow or other everything below seems changed; the world is not a bit like what it was; and he finds that there is no longer any possibility (so far as he is concerned) of getting satisfaction out of it; and that which was once so real to him, is no longer a reality: it is a mirage, a delusion, a snare.
And now, with shamed face and sorrowful heart, he turns once more towards the One from whom he has wandered, whose love he has trifled with, and whose heart he has grieved. But he finds Him still unchanged. He finds that He who loved him yesterday, loves him to-day, in spite of all his wanderings; and then he begins to learn the meaning of those words, "Jesus Christ the same yesterday, to-day, and forever." (Heb. 13:8.) And so, with a baser opinion of himself, but with a deeper sense of the grace which shines in Jesus, he again prepares to follow in His steps. He knows that Jesus has trodden all the way before Him; and he knows, too, that his path can never be so lonely as was the path of that lonely One, so he gains new confidence, and continues his pilgrimage journey. Gladly he sings:"
There is not a trace on the wilderness sands,
Where the foot of a saint hath trod:
No marks have they left who have pass'd on before,
Save the word of a faithful God.
There is not a trace on the wilderness sands,
Save the steps of the Son of God.
“My eye must be upwards, afar from the world,
In this desert I find no cheer;
The footsteps of Jesus are under the cloud,
Yet my eye must be fix'd up there.
There is not a trace on the wilderness sands.
Save the steps of the Son of God.”
Chapter 6: On Caves
CAVE, as you know, is a cleft, or hole, in the rock. The words "rock" and "cave" are used interchangeably in scripture; and when I read of people who "hid themselves in rocks," I understand at once, that they hid themselves in caves. There is no difficulty in that, I think. In the Bible the word "rock" sometimes means an actual rock, and sometimes it is used figuratively, and means a place of strength. In this last sense we must understand it in Deut. 32, where Moses, speaking of the disobedient among the Israelites, says, "Their rock is not as our rock." Their rock was their own strength, his Rock was God (Deut. 32:4); and this just marks the difference in the present day between unbelievers and believers. The rock of the unbeliever is his own strength, the Rock of the believer is God. In a more particular sense, Christ is spoken of as the Christian's Rock; but Christ is God, and so it amounts to much the same thing.
Caves, or rocks, may be said to have three special uses: As Refuges, as Habitations, and as Houses of Defense; and I think I can give you some curious information with regard to each.
First, as Refuges. A very old writer tells us that in the days of king Herod the Great, the country over which he ruled was infested with robbers, who did as great mischief to its inhabitants as a war itself could have done. He succeeded in destroying a number of them, and in scattering the rest; and Galilee, where they existed in greatest numbers, was at length free of them, save for a few who took refuge in caves. These caves were in the precipices of craggy mountains, and could not be reached from any side; for the only ascents to them were by narrow winding paths, which were quite impassable to inexperienced travelers. High up in the rocks these caves could be seen, and here the robbers felt that they were safe; for they were out of reach of the swords and spears of the Roman soldiers, and even their arrows could not pierce to such a height. What then was to be done? At last the king thought of a way of getting to them; and he ordered some wooden chests to be made, each of which would be largo and strong enough to hold four or five of his soldiers. When this had been done, the chests were brought to the various precipices, and the soldiers got finto them, after which they were lowered down to the caves' mouths by mearas of chains. This difficulty overcome, the soldiers soon slew all the wretched people who had taken refuge there, women and children, as well as men; and finished by rolling the dead bodies down the steep precipices. Thus, in spite of their apparent safety, these evil-doers and their families were destroyed in the very rocks which they had chosen for their places of refuge.
But how different it is with the Christian, whose Rock is God! No matter how young or helpless he may be, this Rock is his refuge, and he may fly to it in every time of difficulty and need. None can trouble him there, for God is a strong rock" (Psa. 31:2), and not only a strong Rock but a "rock of strength" (Psa. 62:7), from which I learn, that I can not only take refuge in Him, but get strength from Him. Oh, that we might trust in Him at all times! He is a Refuge for the oppressed (Psa. 9:9) a Refuge in the day of trouble (Psa. 59:16); and He will be the Strength of our hearts (Psa. 83:26) and of our lives (Psa. 27:1) the whole journey through. "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." (Psa. 46:1.)
But caves and rocks are also used as habitations. A traveler on his way to Gaza, passed some habitations of this kind. He tells us that on his journey he carne to a mountain, on the summit of which he saw, to his surprise, an old man engaged in prayer. On approaching nearer, his surprise increased, for he found that the man was only praying on his own housetop, his dwelling-place being in the rock beneath. On seeing the traveler draw near, the old man rose, and welcomed him, and afterward began to show him the beauties of the scene below, where was the village of his tribe. It was a lovely valley, lying between ranges of broken and overhanging rocks, and looked, to his eye, like a smooth and beautiful table of green, widening into a large meadow at one end. Sheep and goats were feeding in abundance in this valley, together with a herd of cows, but, strange to say, he could see no Signs whatever of a human dwelling-place. Where, he asked himself, were the dwellings of the pastors, where the tents in which dwelt the shepherds of these flocks and herds? In Egypt he had seen the Arabs living in tombs, and among the ruins of temples; in the desert he had seen them dwelling in tents; but he had never yet seen them makings, their habitations in the rude crevices of the rocks. Such, however, were their habitations here. " The rocks in many places were overhanging; in others they were chasms, or fissures; and wherever there was anything that could afford a partial protection from the weather on one side, a low, rough, circular wall of stone was built in front of it, and formed the abode of a largc family.
And the Christian has a Rock for his habitation—the Lord Jesus Christ. David prayed to the Lord, "Be thou my strong habitation [or ‘rock of habitation’] whereunto I may continually resort" (Psa. 71:3); but a Christian has no need for such a prayer. It is his privilege and duty to be always dwelling in the Rock. "ABIDE in me" are the very words of Jesus.
And, moreover, there is a wonderful promise for all who thus abide in Him. "If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you." (John 15:7.) What a happy condition to be in! What a mine of wealth is opened up to the poorest child of God in these words, "Ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you." I need not say, of course, that this does not imply asking for worldly riches. If you think, for instance, of asking for a thousand pounds, or a grand house, or anything of that sort, you must expect to be disappointed. Indeed, it is a proof that you are not abiding in Jesus; for those who are abiding in Him forget themselves, and think about their neighbors. They seek to do as Christ did when He was walking about this world, and He never thought about Himself. Ah, no! He "made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant," and went about assisting others. And so it should be with us. "He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked." It is within the power of the youngest believer to abide in Him, for we do not get into that state by great efforts, or by doing great things, but by walking in love, as He walked. "God is love; and he that dwelleth in love DWELLETH IN GOD, and God in him." (1 John 4:16.)
But caves and rocks are used also as houses of defense. A house of defense may, of course, be a dwelling house, but it is something more; and so I read, that he who walks righteously and speaks uprightly, shall not only dwell on heights (that is, on high rocks or mountains), but "his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks." (Isa. 33:16.) It is not at all an infrequent thing to use a cave for a house of defense; from the earliest ages this has been the case, and it is so now. Here is an instance. A certain Grand Seignior, having been greatly displeased by the conduct of his emir, ordered the pasha to go and seize his person. But the emir retreated to the village of Gesin, on the slope of Mount Lebanon, and, in company with a few officers, shut himself up in the cleft of a great rock, which was called among the Arabs the cavern of Gesin. The pasha carne to the cave to execute his orders, but the place of defense was so strong, that though he besieged it for several months together, he could never get possession of the emir's person. At last he ordered his men to dig a mine under the cave, and was going to destroy it by means of gunpowder, when the emir discovered what was going on beneath his retreat, and gave himself up to save being blown to pieces. His house of defense, strong as he had thought it, was no longer safe, and in the end he was glad enough to get out of it.
But oh! what a strong Rock of defense the believer has in Christ. Resting in Him he can say, "Thou art my rock and my fortress;" and who is able to undermine that Rock? It was on that Rock the wise man of Matt. 7 built his house, and when the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon the house, it did not fall, because it was founded upon a Rock. It is on that Rock, too, that the church of God is built-the whole assembly of believers from the day of Pentecost-and because it is thus built, even the gates of hell cannot prevail against it. What a strong Rock of defense is Jesus!
Oh, then, dear young believer, cling close to Him-abide in Him. There alone you are safe, there alone you can be happy. Do not be like Jeshurun of old, who "forsook God... and lightly esteemed the Rock of his salvation" (Deut. 32:15); but rather be like Hannah, the mother of little Samuel, who cried, "There is none holy as the Lord: there is none beside thee neither is there any rock like our God." (1 Sam. 2:2.)
"Rock of ages! cleft for me,
Grace hath hid me safe in Thee!
Where the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flow'd,
Are of sin the double cure,
Cleansing from its guilt and power.
“Found by Thee before I sought,
Unto Thee in mercy brought,
I have Thee for righteousness,
From Thy fullness grave for grave;
Thou hast wash'd me in Thy blood,
Made me live and live to God.
“While I draw this fleeting breath,
If mine eyelids close in death;
When I soar to worlds unknown,
Still of Thee I’ll sing alone.
Rock of ages, cleft for me,
All my boast and joy's in Thee.”
Chapter 7: On Beds
I AM sorry to have to tell you, that people in eastern countries are often very lazy. One traveler tells us that it is no uncommon thing to see an individual, or a group of persons, even when very well dressed, sitting with their feet drawn under them, upon the bare earth, passing whole hours in idle conversation. People in Europe would prefer a chair, but the natives here prefer the ground. In the heat of summer it is pleasant to them to while away their time in this manner, under the shade of a tree. A person of rank in the East often sits down upon the ground, with his attendants about him. Richly adorned females, as well as men, may often be seen thus amusing themselves. As may naturally be expected, with whatever care they may at first choose their place, the flowing dress by degrees gathers up the dust. As this occurs, they from time to time arise, adjust themselves, shake off the dust, and then sit down again." Cobwebs and dust always seem to gather where lazy people are.
But laziness is not confined to people in the East. I am ashamed to say that there are many Christians who are very idle, Christians who scarcely ever do anything for their Master. They live down here just as though they had nothing to do but to please themselves, when really they should be going forth into the fields of the world, to gather in the harvest of God. They forget their Master's words, "Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest" (John 4:35); and instead of redeeming the time, because the days are evil, they take a lazy fit, and do nothing. Do nothing, did I say? Nay, for a Christian is always doing something, and if he is not working in the Lord's vineyard, depend upon it he is wasting his time in the devil's service.
"Satan still has something left
For idle hands to do.”
Of course we cannot be all preaching or writing books, but we may all do something for the Lord; and our little "something" may, after all, be a great deal more in the Lord's eyes than a big book or a long sermon Mary, who sat at the feet of Jesus, and just listened to His words, was more commended for the part she took, than bustling Martha with all her service. "The Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." (1 Sam. 16:7.)
Beds in the East, where people are so fond of them, are often got up in a very handsome style, with every comfort and convenience. I heard of one traveler whose host would have put him to sleep on a bed composed of fifteen mattresses, piled one above the other! The coverlit was of green satin with gold embroidery, and the cushions for his head were of crimson satin, embroidered in the same way. Another bed was covered with a rich brocade, having a gold ground, flowered with many colored silks; while the cushions were of green velvet, similarly adorned. Now I say (and I dare say you will agree with me), that beds like these are positive encouragements to be lazy. And yet how many Christians there are, who, though they may not spend quite this attention on their beds, yet surround themselves with so many luxuries, that they get spiritually lazy, and thoroughly unfit themselves for the service of God!
There are two "woes" in the Old Testament, which are closely connected with the subject of beds; and though they are not addressed to the Christian, their lesson should not be despised. Ezekiel cries, "Woe to the women that sew pillows to all arm-holes.... to hunt souls!" and Amos, "Woe to them that are at ease in Zion.... that lie upon beds of ivory, and stretch themselves upon their couches." The women who sewed the pillows were certainly not acting for God, for God is no hunter of souls: they were in the service of Satan, who thought by this means to lull the souls to sleep, and so send them down to hell. Princes and nobles in Persia may be seen at their windows during the heat of the day, reclining on soft carpets, with canvas awnings over their heads, and supported by soft cushions and pillows under their arm-pits: and Satan, speaking figuratively, would like to sew pillows under the arm-holes of Christians. He succeeds in doing so sometimes, and when the Christian is fast asleep, he goes abroad to work his own mischief, and to hunt for souls. It was while men slept, that the enemy sowed tares among the wheat.
I don't know whether you have ever noticed it, but all the people in the Bible who were found in bed at the wrong time, came to no good. I will not make any hard reflections on poor Job, who tried to get comfort out of his bed, and was scared with evil dreams (Job 7:13); but you may remember the case of "Ish-bosheth, who lay on a bed at noon," and was slain by the sons of Rimmon whilst lying there; and you may remember the case of Ahab, who went sulking off to bed, because he could not have a vineyard which he coveted; and he carne to no good either. He was killed in battle, and the dogs licked his blood. And so with Christians—lazy Christians who are living only for themselves—depend upon it they will come to no good. Five years ago, I knew a christian man who was living in a nicely furnished home, surrounded by every comfort, and without a care or an anxiety to burden him. When I next heard of him, he had removed to a much larger house, and furnished it with a lot of luxuries such as no christian man has any need to have about him. Last week his name appeared among the list of bankrupts in a daily newspaper. That man's luxuries had made him lazy, and now he is suffering the consequences of his laziness.
If David had been lying in bed when Saul's messengers came to take him he would, doubtless, have been killed. But no, he got up and fled, and his wife stuck an image in the bed instead of him, and that was all the messengers found. You see, it is only sick people who should lie a-bed in the day time; people like the man with a palsy, in the fifth of Luke, before the Lord healed him. When he was brought to Jesus his back was stretched upon the bed; but after he had been healed, the bed was rolled up upon his back, and we see him walking back to his house in high feather. The day-time is not a proper time for healthy people to lie sleeping.
Yet this, dear christian reader, is a day-time for you and me, and we are children of the day. It is a day of grace for the poor world, too, during which the gospel of God's grace is being preached, and His servants are going from place to place seeking to win souls for Christ: and YOU can help them. Oh, no! you say, I am much too young, I cannot do anything. Wait a moment. Listen to this. A company of men were pushing a boat into the water, but it stuck so fast that they could not move it. "Another pound," said one, "and it will go." "I can push a pound," answered a little boy. Upon the addition of his strength the boat again moved, and soon floated on the water. But all these men could not of themselves move the boat.
But perhaps you still say, It is no use-I am too weak, I cannot do anything. What! Cannot you pray? Cannot you go to God, and ask Him to convert your school-fellows, or your brothers and sisters? Perhaps you have a Christless father, or a Christless mother, and would you not like them to be with you in heaven by-and-by? Then go to God about them, and tell Him exactly what you want. Ask Him, for Jesus' sake, to save their souls; and if your faith be real, depend upon it He will answer your prayer. Go to Him again and again, and do not get faint-hearted if He does not send the answer at once. Satan will whisper to you, "It is no use, give it up, do not trouble any more, you will get no answer." But do not mind that; tell him he is a liar, and he will soon run away. It is only another of his tricks to make you lazy.
Of course, if you pray listlessly, and do not think about what you are saying, or to whom you are speaking, it would be unreasonable to expect a blessing. God is real, and you must be real also. A certain preacher, when replying to the question, "Will our prayers be answered?" said, "Not if we pray as boys whittle sticks, absently, hardly knowing or caring what we are about. I've known men to begin to pray about Adam, and go on from him away down to the present time, whittling their stick clear to a point, with about as much feeling, and doing about as much good as the boy does." That is an illustration of what lazy prayer is.
Of course, prayer is not exactly work, but it is the soul of work; and your weak, stammering requests to God may be made the means of strengthening the hands of others, and in that sense you are indirectly working for God.
Jesus said, "I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh when no man can work." "Ye are all children of the light, and children of the day: we are not of the night, nor of darkness. THEREFORE LET US NOT SLEEP, as do others; but let us watch and be sober." This, indeed, is our watching and working time-the resting time will follow. "There remaineth a rest to the people of God." May it be the portion of every reader of these lines!
Sweet Sabbath rest, remaining
To every child of God!
When over is the training,
And all have cross'd the flood.
Sure hope of rest unending,
When conflicts all shall cease,
And every soul be spending
Its jubilee of peace.
=============================
Ah! then, thou Lord of glory,
Thy love shall reign alone
In hearts that bow before Thee,
And know as they are known.
Forever and forever
Thy praise those hearts shall swell;
For love that faileth never,
Eternity must tell.
Redeem'd from every nation,
We'll own Thee worthy then;
While a restored creation,
Gives back the loud-Amen!
Chapter 8: On Lamps
LAMPS are much more common in Eastern countries, where gas is almost unknown, than in England. They are of all kinds-good, bad, and indifferent; from iron pots stuffed with oily rags, to beautifully chased lanterns, studded with precious jewels. Some are in form like cylinders, some octagonal, some spherical, and some again of no definable form at all. But the most beautiful lamp that Know of, is one of which I have a few specimens in my own possession, and the form of it is like a book. This lamp is the Bible-the Word of God.
Of the many brilliant lamps in the world, there is none so brilliant as this; for not only is it shining in the present day in almost every country, town, and hamlet throughout the five Continents, but it has been shining for hundreds and hundreds of years in the same way. Silly men, who cannot bear its light, have tried again and again to blow it out, but somehow or other they have never succeeded. And indeed, their whiffing, and puffing, and blowing, have only seemed to make it burn brighter, just as the wind in a pair of bellows blows the fire finto flame. It is really wonderful how hard these windy people have tried to extinguish the lamp; one going one side of it, and giving his blow; and another going another side of it, and giving his blow; and so on. "Is not my WORD like as a fire? saith the Lord." (Jer. 23:29.) Yes, indeed it is; and a fire which can never be put out. "The grass withereth, the flower fadeth but the WORD of our God shall stand forever." (Isa. 40:8.)
A curious thing about this lamp is that it shines into people, and its effect is often to make them very miserable. The rays that fall from it pierce like a sword; indeed, it is "sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow," so that it must be tolerably sharp. But when the rays do pierce, of course they give light also. There is nothing like this lamp for showing up the dirt, and dust, and cobwebs, which too often collect in the chambers of the human heart; but, in addition to that, it has the wonderful property of cleansing the chambers into which it shines; so that while a person can say to God, "the entrance of thy words giveth light" (Psa. 119:130), the answer comes back to him, "Ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you." (John 15:3.)
But though a Christian is quite clean in the sight of God—"clean every whit" (John 13:10)—he is liable to pick up a good deal of dust and dirt as he journeys through this desert scene, and it is necessary that he should hold up his lamp every now and then, in order to take a good look at himself. David asks, "Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way?" and the answer given is, "By taking heed thereto according to thy WORD." (Psa. 119:9.) And, depend upon it, that is the only way by which a Christian can keep himself clean.
This lamp, indeed, should be our continual and only guide through all the dark and dangerous places of the wilderness. If we take good heed to it, we never need lose our way or stumble; but if we shut our eyes, and will not profit by its light, we are bound to get into trouble. What would you say of a man traveling through a desert on a dark night, who threw his lantern away, and tried to get along without it? I think you would say he was a great simpleton, and deserved to meet with an accident. Well—and if you, who are traveling through a far more dangerous desert, and on a far darker night—if you neglect your lamp, what would you deserve to have said about you? You see the lamp is given to you, on purpose that it may light you on your way, and it takes half the roughness and darkness off the path, if you look steadily at its light. David said, "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path" (Psa. 119:105); and while he was diligently using it in this way, he could add, "I rejoice at thy word, as one that findeth great spoil." (Psa. 119:162.) Walking by the light of that lamp, you will not only be happy in yourself, but unconsciously impart your happiness to others; and so—young as you may be—you will find that you have not lived in vain, in the place where Jesus has put you to shine for Him.
“To shine for Him," do I say? Then the Christian himself must be a lamp? Yes, he is: or, at least, he would be so, if he were always shining as he might. Some Christians have shone very brightly in this dark world; so brightly that wicked men have tried to put out their light, for it showed up their own evil deeds, and they did not like that. (John 3:19.) Some cruel men, in the reign of Queen Mary, tried to act thus with two brave servants of God, named Ridley and Latimer; and I will tell you how they went to work. Doubtless you know that in those days people were going about the country teaching all sorts of false and wicked things about the Lord Jesus Christ and His church, and making men believe that it was right to worship images, and to say prayers for the dead, with other follies of this kind. Those who believed in these idle stories were not molested, but any who ventured to disagree, or attempted to preach the true gospel of the grace of God, were in danger of being thrown into prison, and perhaps murdered for their faithfulness. Dr. Ridley and Master Latimer were two such men, and because they would not consent to deny their Lord and Master, they were sentenced to be burnt alive. On the day of their execution, they were brought to the stake, at which they were to suffer; and Latimer, who desired that his light might shine even to the last, knelt at the feet of a nobleman who was there present, and said, "I beseech you, my lord, even for Christ's sake, that I may speak but two or three words.”
“And whilst my lord bent his head to the mayor and vice-chancellor, to know whether he might have leave to speak, the bailiffs and Dr. Marshall ran hastily to him, and, with their hands stopping his mouth, said, ‘Mr. Ridley, if you will revoke your opinions, you shall not only have liberty so to do, but also your life.’
“‘Not otherwise?’ said Dr. Ridley, "‘No,’ answered Dr. Marshall; ‘therefore, if you will not do so, there is no remedy; you must suffer for your deserts.'
“‘Well,’ said the martyr, ‘so long as the breath is in my body, I will never deny my Lord Christ and His known truth. God's will be done in me.’ With that he rose, and said with a loud voice, ‘I commit our cause to Almighty God, who will indifferently judge all.’ To which Mr. Latimer added this saving, ‘Well, there is nothing hid but it shall be opened.’ They were then commanded to prepare for the stake.”
A little later Dr. Ridley said, "O heavenly Father, I give unto Thee most hearty thanks that thou hast called me to be a professor of Thee, even unto death. I beseech Thee, Lord God, have mercy on this realm of England, and deliver it from all her enemies.”
“Then the smith took a chain of iron, and placed it about both their waists; and as he was knocking in the staple, Dr. Ridley took the chain in his hand, and, looking aside to the smith, said, ‘Good fellow, knock it in hard, for the flesh will have its course.'
“Then Dr. Ridley's brother (Shipside) brought him a bag of gunpowder, and tied it about his neck. Dr. Ridley asked him what it was. He answered, ‘Gunpowder.’
“Then said he, ‘I will take it to be sent of God, therefore I will receive it. And have you any,’ said he, ‘for my brother?’ (meaning Mr. Latimer.)
“‘Yes, sir, that I have,’ said Master Shipside.
“‘Then give it him in time, lest you come too late;’ said Dr. Ridley.
“So his brother went, and carried it to Mr. Latimer.
“Then they brought a lighted fagot, and laid it at Dr. Ridley's feet; upon which Mr. Latimer said, 'Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man! WE SHALL THIS DAY LIGHT SUCH A CANDLE, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.'
"When Dr. Ridley saw the fire flaming up towards him, he cried out, with an amazing loud voice, ‘Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit: Lord, receive my spirit!’ and continued often to repeat, ‘Lord, Lord, receive my spirit!’
“Mr. Latimer cried as vehemently, ‘O Father of heaven, receive my soul!’ after which he soon died, seemingly with little pain.”
Dear reader, these were shining lights, were they not? You may not be called upon to pass through the flames, or to light "such a candle" as they lighted; but are you shining in your smaller measure? Yours may be a very tiny lamp, but is it burning? "If I had been made a fire-fly," said a great preacher, some years ago, "it would not become me to say, ‘If God had only made me a star to shine always, then I would shine.’ It is my duty, if I am a fire-fly, to fly and sparkle, and fly and sparkle; not to shut my wings down over my phosphorescent self, because God did not make me a sun or a star." There is one thing every Christian can do, no matter how small his lamp may be, and that is, he can keep it always burning. In Egypt they burn lamps in all the inhabited apartments of a house all the night long; and the poorest people would rather retrench part of their food than neglect it. How many of us could say the same thing about our lamps? You, my young reader, would you rather go without your breakfast or your dinner, than miss an opportunity of shining for Christ? That is an easy test—but would you? Remember, nothing is forgotten that is done for Christ. Even the cup of cold water given to a thirsty saint, has its reward by-and-by (Mark 9:41); and oh, if you were always thus living for Jesus, what a lot of rewards would be waiting for you! Oh that every child of God would heed the Savior's words, "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." (Matt. 5:16.)
Even worldly people sometimes carry lamps—people who want to look like Christians, but have never had their lamps filled with the right sort of oil. Lamps with bad oil in them soon go out, you know. They may burn for awhile, but not for long; and very often they go out, just at a moment when the light of them is most needed. A case of this kind occurred in India, not many years ago, and here is an account of it in the words of an Englishman who was then present "At a marriage, the procession of which I saw some years ago, the bridegroom came from a distance, and the bride lived at Serampore, to which place the bridegroom was to come by water. After waiting two or three hours, at length, near midnight, it was announced, as if in the very words of scripture, ‘Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.’ All the persons employed now lighted their lamps, and ran with them in their hands, to fill up their stations in the procession. Some of them had lost their lights, and were unprepared, but it was then TOO LATE to seek them, and the cavalcade moved forward to the house of the bride, at which place the company entered a large and splendidly-illuminated area before the house, covered with an awning, where a great multitude of friends, dressed in their best apparel, were seated upon mats. The bridegroom was carried in the arms of a friend, and placed on a superb seat in the midst of the company, where he sat a short time, and then went into the house, the door of which was immediately shut, and guarded by keepers. I and others expostulated with the door-keepers, BUT IN VAIN." How like the foolish virgins in Matt. 25, who "took their lamps, and went forth to meet the Bridegroom!" There they were, right up to the moment of the Bridegroom's coming, mingling with the wise virgins—the true Christians—but never thinking of looking to their lamps to see what sort of oil they carried. Foolish virgins! The Bible gives them that name: but doubtless they were very wise in their own idea, and very wise in the opinions of their friends. Doubtless, too, their lamps were just as beautiful to look at as the lamps of the wise virgins, and burned quite as clearly; but God looked within the lamps, where the flames were fed, and He could see that the oil was wasting rapidly away, and that the little which remained of it was bad. Yes, the oil was wasting—slowly spending itself, and what was left of it was bad. Did they know this, however? Alas, no! They might have done so, but they neglected the opportunity. They were the foolish virgins, and so they only looked at the outsides of their lamps. The cases were bright and jeweled, and the light shone clearly through the horned windows; but they forgot to ascertain whether the oil was pure within-whether the supply would last them while the Bridegroom tarried.
When the ten virgins retired to rest the night before the summons came, no difference might have been noticed in their lamps—no difference even in themselves. It was the coming of the Bridegroom brought the change. "At midnight there was a cry made, ‘BEHOLD THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH! go ye out to meet him!’ And the foolish said unto the wise, ‘Give us of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’” Ah! here it was, you see—the testing time had come—their lamps were going out. Awful discovery! "And while they went to buy, the Bridegroom came, and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage, and the door was shut"
Dear reader, I know not who you are, but whether young or old it matters not—how is it with you to-day? Mine is no idle curiosity. I put the question to you in all love—what of your immortal soul? Are you ready for the Bridegroom's coming? Pause and think. Is your lamp being fed by the true oil, which is the Holy Spirit of God, or is it being fed by an oil of your own providing, which can never be anything but bad, and must sooner or later waste away. How awful it would be, a year-a month-a week hence, perhaps to-night, to find yourself standing on the outer circle of a closed door, with a lightless lamp, vainly knocking for admittance! "The light of the righteous rejoiceth: but the lamp of the wicked shall be put out." (Prov. 13:9.)
"The heavenly Bridegroom soon will come,
To claim His bride, and take her home
To dwell with Him on high.
'Trim your lamps and be ready,'
Is the midnight cry.
“The midnight hour will soon be here,
The Voice will sound, distinct and clear,
And fill both earth and sky.
“The Bridegroom comes, let no one doubt,
Alas! for those whose lamps are out,
They'll find no oil to buy.
“Who ready are shall enter in,
The marriage feast will then begin,
And every tear be dry.
'Trim your lamps and be ready,'
Is the midnight cry.”
Chapter 9: On Marriages
The chief of a tribe of Arabs, Ahmoud Hassan, living near the Lake Mœris, made a journey to Cairo one day with the purpose of choosing a wife; and he carried with him, on his camel's back, a goodly number of gold pieces for the wedding dowry. In eastern countries wives are not obtained as they are here, but the parents of the young lady consider their daughter a marketable commodity, and it is usually the amount of the dowry, and not the quantity of affection in some particular suitor, which decides the important question as to who shall have her. Ahmoud being a man easily susceptible to the pleasing emotions of love, soon found a lady with whom he could entrust his happiness; and having called together her parents and friends, a marriage-contract was drawn up, the amount of the dowry was settled, and Ahmoud was duly betrothed to the beautiful Bamba, daughter of a respectable Armenian. At first every one thought that the marriage would take place immediately, as was the custom in those parts, but strangely enough Ahmoud was not in such a hurry. No, he must first go back to his tribe by the Lake Mœris, and make the necessary arrangements for Bamba's reception, and not till all was in readiness would he return to conduct her to her new home. When he was gone Bamba became sad and lonely, and sent many sighs after her departed chief, and so the days and weeks crept by. Often she would repair to her little room, on the flat roof of her father's house, to think of the absent one, or mount the watch-tower, that she might gaze, with shaded eyes, over the white housetops in the direction of the far-off lake; but other days and weeks crept by, and still he carne not. He had told her that he had gone to prepare a home for her, but that he would soon return; and, meanwhile, she was to watch and wait for him. But when the weeks had turned to months, and there were still no signs of his coming, she began to lose heart, and sometimes unworthy thoughts about him would rise in her mind, and she would almost think that he had forgotten her. But one day a messenger carne hurriedly into her presence, and the startling words fell upon her ear, "He is coming—he is coming—put on your ornaments, and go out to meet him!" So Bamba put on her ornaments, and went out, and met her lord; and straightway he took her to the home which he had been getting ready for her.
In some respects this is a faint picture of the past, the present, and the future connections of the Lord Jesus Christ with His church. He was the Merchantman who left His home in a distant country, and came to this poor earth seeking goodly pearls. At last He found one pearl of great price, one lovely pearl; and what do you think that was? It was the church. And then we read that He sold all that He had and bought it. Yes, ALL: for He gave His own life's blood for it, and no one could make a greater sacrifice than that. "Christ also loved the church, and gave HIMSELF for it" (Eph. 5:25); and each member of that church—each believer in the Lord Jesus Christ—can say, "He loved me, and gave HIMSELF for me." (Gal. 2:20.) Oh the love of Jesus! I need scarcely add, that the pearl was washed before it could be fit for Him.
But He has gone away. He has gone to prepare a place for us (John 14:2); and before He went away He said, "If I go and prepare a place for you, I WILL COME AGAIN, and receive you unto myself." (John 14:3.) Then He, too, is coming back, you cry. Yes, He is coming back: He may be on His way at this present moment—I cannot tell. But the question is—Are you looking out for Him?
In my chapter on tents, I told you that the young pilgrim through the wilderness should look upon the present time as a waiting and a watching time; and perhaps you wondered what I meant by that. Well, before I tell you what I did mean, I will tell you what I did not mean. I did not mean that a Christian should be waiting or watching for death. The Bible has no such thought as that; at least, no such thought for the believer. A CHRISTIAN DOES NOT KNOW THAT HE WILL EVER BE CALLED UPON TO DIE. Bamba, in the story, was not looking out for death. If the Lord were to come at this very hour—and He might - thousands and tens of thousands of His own people would be caught up in the clouds to meet Him, without ever passing through death. (I Thess. 4.) "We shall not all sleep [for that is the beautiful way the Christian's death is spoken of], but WE SHALL ALL BE CHANGED, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump" (1 Cor. 15:51,52); and if that last trump were to sound to-day—and who knows but that it will?—every living Christian in the wide world would be changed in a moment (that is to say, would change his mortal body for an immortal body), and instead of going down to the grave, would go up to be forever with the Lord. Now, if I know that this event may happen at any moment, how can I be watching and waiting for death?
I know that many Christians talk in this way, but the Bible does not; and you will remember that that is the lamp which should guide you in matters of this kind. Instead of telling us to look out for death, when our bodies would only be laid in the grave, and in course of time fall to dust, the Bible tells us to watch and wait for a divine Person from heaven, who will "change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body"—a very different thing, you see. "Oh, but," says the Christian, "the Lord will come to me when I die." No—no, says the Bible, if you die, you will go to be with the Lord. But perhaps you would like to see some of God's "Waitings" and "Watchings.”
The Waitings: · "Ye turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God; and to WAIT for His Son from heaven...even Jesus." (1 Thess. 1:9, 10.)
"So that ye come behind in no gift; WAITING for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Cor. 1:7.)
"Let your loins be girded about and your lights burning; and ye yourselves like unto men that WAIT for their Lord." (Luke 12:36, 37.)
"And the Lord direct your hearts into the love of God, and into the patient WAITING for Christ." (2 Thess. 3:5.)
The WATCHINGS:
"WATCH therefore: for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come." (Matt. 24:42.)
"WATCH ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cockcrowing, or in the morning: lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you I say unto all, WATCH." (Mark 13:35-37.)
"Blessed are those servants, whom the Lord when he cometh shall find WATCHING." (Luke 12:37.)
But perhaps you begin to ask, What has all this to do with marriages? Not much, when looked at from one point of view, but a great deal when looked at from another. All true believers, as I have already hinted, form part of the church of God, and the church of God is sometimes spoken of as the bride of Christ (Rev. 21:2,9;22. 17); and so when Christians are looking out for the Lord's return, we may say that it is the bride looking out for the Bridegroom. What nearness of love there is in this—is there not? No one can be nearer to the Bridegroom's heart than the bride, and believers are the bride of Christ. We need scarcely wonder, then, that some are watching and waiting for the Bridegroom's return.
In many eastern countries, the night before the coming of the bridegroom is called the "watch-night." "If the bridegroom's residence be at a distance from that of the bride, he usually arrives some time in the course of the night, or very early in the morning. The bridesmaids watch anxiously for his arrival, and as soon as they are apprised of his approach by the joyful shout set up by some of the members of the family, who have been on the look-out to catch the first glimpse of him, 'The bridegroom cometh!' they go forth to meet him." And so should it be with you, dear young believer. You should be looking for the coming of the Bridegroom—the heavenly Bridegroom—or, in other words, for the return of Jesus. This should be your "watch-night," when the eyes of your heart should be looking for the bright and Morning Star, which heralds the approach of day. Jesus Himself says, "I am the root and the offspring of David, the bright and morning star;" and if you will refer to your Bible you will notice that the moment He thus speaks of Himself, "the Spirit and the BRIDE say Come." (Rev. 22:16-17.) Yes, the bride sighing for the return of her Beloved, and cries in spirit like the bride in the song of Solomon "Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to roe, or to a young hart, upon the mountains of spices." (Song of Solomon 8:14.)
I will now give an account of a Jewish marriage festival, which, I think, will please you. "It was late on a summer evening; the sun had long since gone down in golden splendor beyond the blue waves of the Mediterranean, and deep twilight shadows shrouded the earth in semidarkness, illumined fitfully by the glimmering light of the brilliant stars which stud the firmament of the Eastern hemisphere. On the banks of the Lake of Tiberias there stood a small town where, as was usual at this late hour, all was lonely and still, excepting at one house, from the appearance of which it was evident that some, thing more than ordinary was going forward. Only one window could be seen from the narrow street—the house being built round a large open court, into which the other windows looked—but that one was brilliantly illuminated. On the flat roof of the house, which was ornamented with shrubs and plants, and lit up with numerous torches, groups of people, dressed in gay holiday attire, were walking to and fro, enjoying the cool night air, as it blew in gentle zephyrs from the neighboring Sea of Galilee. Occasionally, through the open door, servants might be seen hurrying past, and the cheerful strains of musical instruments could be heard mingling with the soft sweet voices of many singers. Inside the house everything betokened preparation for some festive occasion. The various apartments were hung with many-colored draperies, adorned with richly gilded carvings, and fragrant with the perfume of costly scents; whilst in a large upper chamber, a table was spread with a sumptuous repast. There was not much meat provided, for the natives of the East seldom eat it; but there was an abundant supply of bread, honey, grapes, figs, dates, melons, cheese, parched corn, cucumbers, pomegranates, olives, and dried fruits; whilst upon pegs, in a corner of the room, hung large leathern bottles filled with the juice of the grape, and a favorite drink made from the juice of dates, flavored with spice. In an adjoining room were musicians playing upon the harp, tabret, viol, flute, cymbals, and triangle, who united with a hand of trained singers, in performing, at intervals, lively pieces of music and joyous songs. In the courtyard, which was decorated with beauteous fragrant flowers, there were fountains of water, which not only cooled the air, but their falling drops, sparkling in the rays of the many lamps which hung around, added to the beauty and brilliance of the scene. Here yet other guests walked to and fro in friendly converse, or reclined at length on luxurious divans, lulled to partial slumber by the gentle plashing of the water.
"All these preparations were making for the celebration of a wedding feast. The marriage ceremony had been performed some six days previously, at the house of the bride's parents in an adjacent village; the six following days had been spent in feasting and merriment there, and on the evening of this, the seventh day, the bridegroom was expected to bring borne the bride to this his own house, giving on the occasion a grand entertainment, the last of the series. (See Gen. 29:27; Judg. 14:17,18.)
“It was known that many friends would accompany the newly-married pair in the procession from one house to the other; but as it was customary for others to go and meet them on the road, with songs of welcome and expressions of good wishes, on this occasion a panty of young women went for this purpose, clothed in flowing white robes, and carrying lamps in their hands, not only to light them on the road, but also to increase the splendor of the procession. These lamps were simply sticks of baked clay, fixed to wooden handles; linen rags were wrapped round the clay, and then saturated with oil. They gave a brilliant light, but burnt away very rapidly.
“It was a joyous, happy group which thus started from this house, full of life and spirits; and as they went they laughed and chatted merrily of pleasures past and the feast to come, pausing now and again to peer through the darkness for some signs of the expected procession; but pone appeared, and at length they agreed to sit down by the road-side and await its arrival. Seated thus, the conversation soon flagged, and shortly ceased. Wearied with the day's fatigue, prolonged beyond their usual hour of rest, first one, and then another, and at length all of them, fell fast asleep. They had not slumbered long, when a passer-by aroused them with the cry that the bridegroom and his friends were close at hand. Instantly they sprang to their feet, and saw, at no great distance, the flickering lights of the long-expected party. Their first thought was to trim their lamps, for these had been burning whilst they slept, and now some had gone quite out, and the rest nearly so. This was unfortunate, for it would have been considered very rude and disrespectful of them to join the procession without their lamps; such a step was not to be thought of. Some of the young women, it appeared, anticipating such a contingency, had brought little vessels of oil with them, and emptying these over the rags, their lamps were soon trimmed and burning as brightly as ever. The others, who had not been so thoughtful, would have borrowed of their oil too, but there was none to spare, they had only just sufficient for themselves; and instead of going to meet the bridegroom, these young women were obliged to hasten back into the town to purchase some oil, in the hope of overtaking their friends before they reached the house. Meanwhile the procession drew near; those who were ready advanced to meet it, singing a song of welcome, to the music of which they kept time with their feet, and thus dancing and tripping along they proceeded to the house; the bride and bridegroom entered, followed by their friends, and the door was shut. After exchanging salutations with their friends, they all ascended to the upper chamber, the musicians tuned their instruments afresh, the singers sang their liveliest songs, and the assembled guests surrounded the festive board. Scarce had the banquet begun, when a loud knocking was heard at the outer door. The other young women who had returned to purchase oil for their lamps, hindered and delayed by the fact that all the shops were closed and the owners asleep, had at length obtained a supply, and now demanded admission; but the door being closed, the bridegroom, as they had not entered at the proper time, refused to open it, and they were obliged to go away, sad, miserable, and disappointed. The feast they had been so eagerly anticipating was then in fruition; they could hear the merry voices of their friends and the cheerful music. They knew that inside all was brightness, and happiness, and joy; but they, alas! through their own fault, were shut out in darkness and disappointment.
“The sumptuous entertainment, diversified by the performances of dancing girls, was continued through the night, and the first rays of the rising sun were gilding the summits of the mountains of Moab ere the last guest departed homewards.”
If all this light, and joy, and splendor attend the marriage of two poor, failing mortals in this world of ours, what will it be by-and-by, when the marriage of the Lamb is celebrated in heaven! God has not left us any prophetic pictures of that wonderful moment, save that the bride will "be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white:" the fine linen being figurative of the righteousness of saints, just as the white robe which the prodigal receives is figurative of the righteousness of God. This I have explained to you elsewhere. But you may be sure of this, that the musicians will have no need to tune their instruments afresh, as they did at the marriage feast of which you have been reading; that there will be no going out of lamps through sleepiness or lack of oil, for the glory of God will lighten the scene, and the Lamb will be the lamp thereof (Rev. 21:23); and further, that the song which will then be sung will far excel the sweetest and liveliest of earthly songs, for it will be a song which God Himself will put into our mouths. Perhaps it will be that new song, "UNTO HIM THAT LOVETH US, AND WASHED US FROM OUR SINS IN HIS OWN BLOOD, AND HATH MADE US KINGS AND PRIESTS UNTO GOD AND HIS FATHER; TO HIM BE GLORY AND DOMINION Forever AND EVER. AMEN.”
(Rev. 1:5, 6.)
Chapter 10: On Rewards
A REWARD is more valued than a present—at least, by most people. I dare say you would rather take home a prize from school than receive a present from a friend: such a preference is only natural. The prize, you see, would be an acknowledgment of something that you have done, while the present would only reflect honor upon the giver. When God in His great love gave Jesus to die for your sins, that was God's present to you: it showed His wonderful kindness, and, at the same time, it showed your own sinfulness, so that all the merit of the transaction was on God's side. But now that you are a Christian, if you are doing something for God, that may bring you a reward, although (and you must never forget this) it will still be only the fruit of His grace; "for it is God which worketh in you both TO WILL and TO DO of his good pleasure." (Phil. 2:13.) Every Christlike thought you think, every Christlike wish that you indulge, every Christlike act which you Perform, is simply the fruit of God's gracious work in you, but if you allow Him to carry on that work you will not be without your reward by-and-by.
The Bible has dozens of references to rewards. There are rewards for evil as well as for good, but such rewards as those are not by any means to be envied, for they are rewards of punishment. David says that the Lord "plentifully rewardeth the proud doer" (Psa. 21:23); and again, in another place, "He shall reward evil unto mine enemies." (Psa. 54:5.) I once heard of a wicked bishop who persuaded King Louis XI., of France, to get his workmen to construct an iron cage, in which to confine certain prisoners of note. The cape was so arranged that a man could neither stand upright nor lie down in it, and his body, therefore, was always in a bent position. Not long after the cage was made the bishop lost favor with his sovereign, and was the first to be imprisoned in it, where he suffered incredible tortures for upwards of fourteen years! This is an instance of evil rewarded, and it furnishes also an illustration of the words, "He made a pit, and digged it, and is fallen into the ditch which he made." (Psa. 7:15.)
But my purpose is not to speak of rewards for evil, but rewards for good; and these, again, are of two kinds. There are earthly rewards and there are heavenly rewards. It was a reward of an earthly kind which a Roman Emperor offered to the man who would discover a new pleasure. He had tried all the pleasures of the world and found them vain and unsatisfying, so he offered a great sum of money to the man who would introduce him to a new object of delight. History does not inform us whether that reward was over earned. It was a reward of a heavenly kind which the aged Polycarp earned when he yielded up his life in the cause of his Lord and Savior. They wanted him to blaspheme the name of that blessed One, but he said, "Eighty and six years have I served Him, and He has never done me wrong; How can I now blaspheme my King and Savior?" Shortly afterward he was burned at the stake. It was a reward of a heavenly kind, too, which the devoted Paul spoke about when he said, "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." (2 Tim. 4:6, 7, 8.)
And Paul and Polycarp are not the only Christians who will be rewarded in that day—do not run away with that idea. "Not to me only," says Paul, "but unto all them also that love his appearing." A young man lay dying, not many years ago. He had clung close to Christ while he was in health and strength, and now that his health was ruined and his strength almost gone, Christ was clinging close to him. He was so happy as he lay there. His poor broken-hearted mother was standing beside his bed, looking, with all a mother's tenderness, upon his thin, pale face. "Oh, John!" at last she cried, catching his attenuated hand in hers, "I wish I were as happy as you, and that I could go with you." The dying youth replied, "Press forward, mother! press forward! there is a CROWN for you as well as for me.”
Ah! that is it. There is a reward—a crown—a prize for all who run with patience the race that is set before them; not heaven merely, but some special acknowledgment for the specially faithful. Paul was a champion runner in the race that was set before him, and he tells us some interesting facts with regard to it. At the time he wrote his letter to the Christians at Philippi he was still running; he had not yet reached the goal; he was not yet perfect. But he tells us that he was forgetting those things which were behind, and reaching forward to those things which were before, and was pressing toward the mark for the prize...(Phil. 3) This is just what a person would do who was running a race in good earnest. If you were running a race, for example, you would forget the things which are behind, would you not? I know some boys have a great habit of looking back, either to see how much ground they have passed, or how far the other racers are behind; but they lose ground that way, and never seem to win. People in the Bible who "looked back" do not make a very creditable show when you come to think of them. Lot's wife looked back and became a pillar of salt; the Israelites looked back to the garlic and onions, and flesh-pots of Egypt, and began to murmur; and Jesus said that "No man having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." (Luke 9:62.) How could the man drive a straight furrow when he was looking behind him?
Then Paul was "reaching forward" to those things which were before. That is simple; for you must have often noticed with what eagerness the racer stretches out his head and hand in his anxiety to reach the goal; and how, as the goal gets nearer, his body leans more forward, and he seems pressing toward the mark. But is that what YOU are doing, dear reader? Are YOU forgetting the things which are behind—the sins and follies of the past, and even the possible good things that you have done; and reaching forward—earnestly, anxiously reaching forward—to the things that are before: the bright future of glory which will soon be yours? Yes, are YOU pressing forward toward the mark—that bright Object at the end of the course: that Object of present and unclouded delight to every earnest runner in the race, "even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come." (1 Thess. 1:10.) Ah! this is a question which you ought to think about.
But do not think too much upon the reward—think of CHRIST. Do not make it a labor for pay, but a labor of love. Even the runner in the race has his whole attention fixed upon the mark; and though the prize may come into his thoughts from time to time, and he may be cheered by the prospect of winning it, it is never the absorbing object of his mind. Paul did not say that he was pressing toward the prize: no, he was pressing toward the mark FOR the prize. And you remember what he said in another place. It was not, "for me to live is reward, or hope of reward." But "for me to live is Christ." The language of your heart should be the language of a little verse, with which, perhaps, you are familiar:-
"O fix my earnest gaze
So wholly, Lord, on Thee,
That with Thy beauty occupied
I elsewhere none may see”
And if you are seeking to live for Christ, though in ever so simple a way, depend upon it you will not be without your crown by-and-by.
In the days of ancient Greece, it was customary at certain seasons, for the people to celebrate the festivals of their false gods by athletic displays or sacred games, which were called the Isthmian, the Olympic, the Pythian, and the Nemæan games. The victors in these games were crowned with garlands of leaves by some person of distinction (oftentimes an emperor), who presided in the great circus; the garlands in the Isthmian games being made of pine leaves; in the Olympic games, of wild olive; in the Pythian, of laurel; and in the Nemæan, of parsley. There were other and more substantial rewards given afterward, but these leafy crowns were given on the spot, and were an earnest of what was to follow. The sports consisted of racing, wrestling, leaping, boxing, and quoiting; and there were also prizes awarded for poetry, music, and sculpture, which, of course, can scarcely be placed under the heading of games. The foot-race was called the stadium, and the length of the course was 300 cubits. Now I have given you all this information, because I want to show you some interesting facts, in connection with a letter which a very distinguished person wrote to some people at Corinth, at a time when these sports were very much in vogue. The original letter was written in Greek, and there have been many translations of it. I shall make my extract from one which is not in very cornmon use, but which, perhaps, is more easily understood than a good many. The words that I want you to notice are these:"Know ye not that they who run in the race-course run all, but one receives the prize? Thus run in order that ye may obtain. But every one that contends for a prize is temperate in all things: they, then, indeed that may receive a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible. I therefore thus run, as not uncertainly; so I combat, as not beating the air. But I buffet my body, and lead it captive, lest after having preached to others I should be myself rejected.”
Now it is pretty clear that the person who wrote the letter from which this extract has been made, had in his mind the Isthmian games, which were celebrated on the isthmus which separated Corinth from the main-land. Every one at Corinth would know all about the games, and he was, therefore, quite safe in alluding to them in this way. "Know ye not," he says, "that they who run in the race-course run all, but one receives the prize?" Of course they knew it. Well then, he says, "thus run in order that YE may obtain." There were different ways of running, you know—right ways and wrong ways. The right way was marked out by white lines or posts, and any one who wandered over the line or beyond the posts, lost the prize, although he might be the first at the goal.
Then the writer goes on to say that "every one that contends for a prize is temperate in all things." This also is plain enough. A schoolboy in the present day would understand it. When the season for his athletic sports is coming on, he goes “into training,” as they say; he tries to develop his muscle and reduce his fat, and, to effect this, must be temperate in all things. A man who was going into training for the Isthmian games, would commence twelve months before the sports carne on, and would place himself under an experienced teacher, who would regulate for him his eating, drinking, walking, sleeping, and so forth. A celebrated writer of the first century, with the alarmingly long name of Epictetus, gives us some idea of what that training would involve. "Would you be a victor in the Olympic games?" he asks, "so, in good truth, would I; for it is a glorious thing. But pray consider what must go before, and what must follow, and so proceed in the attempt. You must then live by rule, eat what will be disagreeable, and refrain from delicacies; you must oblige yourself to constant exercise, at the appointed hour, in heat and cold; you must abstain from wine and cold liquors; in a word, you must be as submissive to all the directions of your master as to those of a physician.”
And for what were the runners in the Isthmian games competing? Only for a corruptible crown after all! A crown of pine leaves, which the heat of the victor's head, when the race was over, would quickly cause to die. What an object to waste a twelve months' training upon-a garland of dead leaves! How many of us, alas! who profess to be living for the Lord, are really striving after nothing but leaves! But it should not be so, and there is really no necessity for such a state of things. The runners in the Isthmian games, truly, were contending for a corruptible crown, but we should be contending for something higher and better than that. "They, indeed, that they may receive a corruptible crown, but WE an incorruptible." Ah! there is the difference; and a whole life-time would not be ill-spent if it brought us a reward like that.
The writer then goes on to tell what he, personally, was doing, at the time when his letter was written. "I therefore thus run, as not uncertainly." How many in the present day could say the same thing? There was no uncertainty in Paul's actions (for he was the writer whose letter we have been looking over), the OBJECT which he kept continually in view saved him from a host of awkward dilemmas. He was no half and half sort of man: there was no big bit of self and little bit of Christ, nor even a little bit of self and the rest Christ. Christ was ALL to him. He knew that he was a citizen of heaven; and all his affections were centered there, because Christ was there; and that was what made his race steady and his victory sure.
When he goes on to say, "so I combat, as not beating the air," he leaves the race-course and enters the ring. It is the tyro in the art of boxing who beats the air; but Paul was no tyro in the things of God. There was no beating the air with him; but like the runner, he had to keep his body in a fit state for the encounters of the ring. "I buffet my body," he says, "and lead it captive; lest, after having preached to others, I should be myself rejected." You see, Paul not only took part in the games himself, but he instructed others; and it would have been a sore disgrace to him, if, after taking this twofold position, he had been rejected through failure and incompetence. To prevent this he kept his own body under, and strove to live out what he preached to others.
But perhaps you say, "All this fine talk about Isthmian games and pine-leaf garlands can have nothing to do with me. I am running in none of these grand races for the Lord, neither am I standing up to fight for Him." Never mind; there is still a reward for you. Yes, there is a special reward for the young, and the weak, and the simple; for those who do not know much, and cannot say much, and, perhaps, never feel very deeply the little they do know. Yes, I say, for the simple and the silent ones, for the young and the weak ones, the tender, loving Master has a special reward. Men might pass them by, but He could never do that. There is a WHITE STONE for them, "and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it." Think of that now! "In primitive times, when traveling was rendered difficult by the want of places of public entertainment, hospitality was exercised by private individuals to a very great extent. Persons who had partaken of this hospitality, and those who practiced it, frequently contracted habits of regard and friendship for each other; and it became a well established custom, both among the Greeks and Romans, to provide their guest with some particular mark, which was handed down from father to son, and ensured hospitality and kind treatment wherever it was presented. This mark was usually a small stone or pebble, cut in half, upon the halves of which the host and the guest mutually inscribed their names, and then interchanged them with each other. The production of this stone was quite sufficient to ensure friendship for themselves or their descendants, whenever they traveled again in the same direction; while it is evident that these stones required to be privately kept, and the name written upon them carefully concealed, lest others should obtain the privileges, instead of him for whom they were intended." Thus, you see, what a value was set upon such rewards as white stones, even when the giver was only a fellow mortal like ourselves. How, then, can we estimate the value of those white stones which Jesus will give as an expression of His own secret satisfaction, in the way which we have loved, and lived, and suffered for Him here? Every believer in Jesus has his cross to carry, and YOU have yours. It may be a very small one, but if you have taken it up and are carrying it cheerfully, knowing that Jesus has sent it for your good, then you are suffering for Him, and will not be without your white stone by-and-by. Perhaps you have companions who tease you because you are a Christian. Well, if you bear their teasing patiently and do not resent it, you are suffering for Christ. Perhaps you have an un-Christian parent, who even beats you because you belong to Christ; who will not let you go to Sunday-school—nay, perhaps will not even suffer you to read your Bible. Well, that is a very heavy cross—far heavier than most grown people have to carry—but do not faint under it. Remember you are bearing that cross for Christ, and He will richly reward you by-and-by. Cyril of Alexandria was a lad who lived during the early days of Christianity. When he became and would have nothing to say to him; and at last he was arrested, and cruelly put to death. Did he faint beneath his burden, do you think? Ah, no! Child though he was, he reckoned "that the sufferings of this present time [were] not worthy to be compared with the glory" which would shortly be revealed; and when he noticed that the people who had come to see him burnt were in tears, he said, "You ought to be glad; and so you would be if you knew of the city to which I am going." Oh that we all had the faith and faithfulness of little Cyril!
But let me again remind you that Christ and not the hope of reward must be the ruling Object in all your deeds, and words, and thoughts, if you want to be a useful Christian now, and to receive your loving Master's "Well done" hereafter. Everything should be tested by Christ. Before attempting any little act of service, you should ask yourself, "Am I doing this for Christ?" Before you open your mouth to speak upon any subject—"Am I speaking for Christ?" Nay, even when your hands are idle; and your tongue is silent, and your thoughts alone are active—even then the question would not be out of place, "Am I thinking for Christ?" By observing this rule you will grow like Christ; and you may be sure, also, that your crown will be studded with many jewels in "that day" when the rewards are distributed.
And even then it strikes me that you will think but little of the reward; for the beauty, and the glory, and the love of Christ will eclipse everything else. I think you will be like the four and twenty elders of whom we read, "who fall down before him that sat on the throne, and worship him that liveth forever and ever, and CAST THEIR CROWNS BEFORE THE THRONE, saying, "THOU art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created." (Rev. 4:10, 11.)
"Oh, Christ! He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I've tasted,
More deep I’ll drink above:
There to an ocean fullness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
“The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegroom's face;
I will not gaze at glory,
But on my King of Grace
Not at the CROWN He giveth
But on His piercèd hand:
THE LAMB IS ALL THE GLORY Of
Immanuel's land.”
THE END.
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