A Fragment on Psalm 16
This psalm presents the Lord Jesus Christ in the place of self-emptied and absolute dependence. “Preserve me, Ο God, for in thee do I put my trust.” This was His attitude, from the manger to the cursed tree. He never, for a single instant, ceased to hang on God. His heart never once cherished a creature expectation—an earthly hope.
Hence, He could, at all times, in all places, and under all circumstances, say, “the lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places.” They might not be smooth places or sunny places, or places agreeable to flesh and blood; but faith, a confiding heart, a subject will, a dependent spirit, could always say they were “pleasant.” He might be misunderstood, misinterpreted, accused of being mad, of having a devil. He might be maligned, despised, rejected, betrayed, denied, deserted, spit upon, buffeted, mocked, cast out—yet, in the face of all, He could say, “The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage.” Yes; “pleasant” and “goodly” were the words which the blessed Jesus used to describe His “lines” and His “heritage,” though He was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” Isa. 53.
And how was this? Just because God filled the entire range of His vision. His outward circumstances, as looked at from nature’s point of view, would not, by any means, appear to have been either “goodly” or “ pleasant.” His path was not strewed with roses. It was a desolate, rough, dreary path, so far as earth was concerned. The foxes and the fowls were better off than He. The very beasts of the forest and the fowls of the air had what the Creator of heaven and earth had not. He had not where to lay His head. There was no rest for Him. He could not enjoy many sunny hours in a dark world like this. Earth did not afford Him a single green blade, a single refreshing spring. He was debtor to a poor Samaritan adulteress for a drink of water, in His hour of weariness. The women that came up with Him, from the despised Galilee, “ministered unto him of their substance.” This world had naught for the heavenly man, save the manger, the crown of thorns, the vinegar, the gall, the spear, the borrowed grave. Yet notwithstanding all, He could say that His “places” were “pleasant,” and His “heritage” was “goodly.”
Christian reader, these are the words of your Great Exemplar—of Him who has left you an example that you should follow His steps. Say then, do you feel and acknowledge that the lines have fallen unto you in pleasant places, and that your heritage is a godly one? To answer this, you are not to look within or around. Your reply is not to take its shape from the circumstances or the influences, the men or the things with which you may happen to be surrounded. You must look straight up into heaven; for there, and there alone, properly speaking, are your “lines,” there is your “heritage.” Your lines are fallen within the “many mansions” of your Father’s house, on high; and you have received as your heritage “a kingdom which can never be moved.” You are provided for, forever. You can never want any good thing. Christ is your portion, heaven your home, glory your everlasting destiny. The love that has stooped to pluck you as a brand from the burning, has clothed you with a robe of divine righteousness, and will, ere long, crown you, and make you a pillar in the temple of God, to go no more out forever.
Well, therefore, may you speak of “pleasant places” and “a goodly heritage.” True, your path, down here, may be rough and thorny—you may be tried by ill health, poverty, bereavement, sorrow, pressure, personal infirmity, and various other circumstances; but then, remember, your lines are fallen to you in “heavenly places;” your heritage is incorruptible, undefiled, and fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you,” while, at the same time, you are “kept, by the power of God,” in the midst of those very trials, “through faith, unto salvation.” “The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup; thou maintainest my lot.” This was enough for the heart of Jesus. He needed nothing more. He found His all in God, and there He rested.
Then, as to His hope, what was it? “My flesh also shall rest in hope. For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption.” In these words are wrapped up one of the most profound and precious truths which can possibly engage our attention, namely, that the body of the Lord Jesus came forth from the tomb, bearing the marks of an accomplished atonement, and yet, without the smell of mortality having passed upon it. The foul breath of corruption never reached His pure, holy, sinless, spotless flesh. This is a vital, fundamental truth—a sublime mystery of our most holy faith. The perfect humanity of the eternal Son of God “TASTED DEATH,” and yet, “SAW NO CORRUPTION.” The soul that denies this must be a total stranger to all spiritual communion with the Person of the Son. He has yet to be divinely taught that all-important truth which lies at the very base of the “great mystery of godliness,” namely, that “God was manifest in the flesh.”
Oh! that the Church of God may drink into the spirit, realize the power, and enter into the practical results of this cardinal truth. It is much to be feared that the mysterious Person of the God-man does not occupy the thoughts and command the affections of the saints, as He should. There is far too much looseness and inaccuracy both in reference to His Person and His work. Hence, the fearful prevalence of carnality and worldliness.
Oh! Lord, revive thy work!