Laban is for a time greatly enriched by Jacob's visit, but turns out in the end ungrateful and fraudulent, seeking by violence to deprive the true servant of his rights. And that is what will happen when the earthly Christ visits the man of the world: for a thousand years all goes prosperously, but at the close of that time the man of the world will seek to grasp Jerusalem. However, in each case Laban's and Gog's—there is signal defeat brought about by God's direct intervention, and thereupon the withdrawal of the Divine Servant with His family and household. To a certain point there is forbearance shown by the servant, but this grace is not at all carried to the extent of yieldingness which characterized Isaac (the heavenly Christ of the present period). The servant is willing to take the speckled and spotted of the flock for his hire—Christ is willing to accept what the world despises: but when it is known that by the contemplation of the rod partly peeled—which may mean the word with its inner meaning partly disclosed—they become strong and numerous, then Laban's cupidity and enmity is excited; and in result he loses one by whom he has received great wealth, and loses his wealth with him. There is a serious controversy, chiefly concerning Rachel (Israel), but the man of God is victor, and finally withdraws from the place to “return to the land of his kindred.”
Not only, however, has Laban to be overcome in Mesopotamia, but Esau at the Jordan: not only the power of the world would hold back the household of Christ; but spiritual powers, malign and benign, barred their entrance to the promised land. Christ overcomes all.
There were many faults in the deceitful and timid way in which Jacob returned to Canaan, but he did proceed thither when God told him; and here we see that a right act may be done in a wrong way, which is certainly better than not at all. It was right of him to go to Canaan, but wrong to tell falsehoods, copious and fluent, on the way. The same principle applies to many other of the notable actions of scripture: it was right of Rahab to hide the spies, and of Shiphrah and Puah to save the male children of Israel; but if they had had the faith and courage to do so without telling deliberate untruths, God would have upheld them. We find that the deed is often approved though the manner of its doing is not; and here is an important lesson: a good deed may be done in a faulty way, and we certainly should—as God has done—approve the action and not let the manner of it blind us to its virtue. There is a great deal too much adverse criticism from people who never do anything on those who are in active service, because these latter do not shape all their methods to meet the approval of the former. The old school of German strategists found perpetual fault with Bonaparte, because he did not fight according to their conventional rules; but he kept on winning the battles somehow, and that was the great thing after all. But now Christ is revealed, and all evil is judged in His cross; and He reigns in our life. Let us, therefore, strive to eschew all wrong and to do right things in the right way, for feeble minds are unable to distinguish these things, being stumbled and hindered by our inconsistencies.
Thus comes he, fearing, plotting and praying, to Jordan and indeed there were terrible dangers before him; a foe strong and vengeful, and Jacob as weak as a reed. But be must be weakened still more before he can conquer; he must be as weak as a bruised reed: so the angel cripples him, and then he is victorious, and the supplanter becomes a “prince with God.” One of the most stimulating studies in literature would be a record of maimed victors—but there is no such book extant, I think. It would contradict Emerson's discouraging theory that all the notable work in the world has been done by healthy men, with developed “arteries,” and nothing by the weak-arteried and large-veined ones. It would give a history of Pyrrhic victories, and Parthian defeats: it would tell of Ehud, maimed in his right hand, but smiting Eglon such a blow with the dagger in his left, as delivered Israel; of leprous Naaman leading the Syrian hosts; of blind Sampson pulling down the temple of Dagon; of the four lepers who fed Samaria; of what has been done by Paul, imprisoned, aged, infirm and purblind; by such confirmed invalids as Calvin, Melancthon, Erasmus, and John Howard; by Cowper and Cruden, over whose minds brooded the horrors of insanity; above all and distinct from all, eternal victory wrought by One, when wounded in head, hands feet and heart, on a Roman cross.
Even in human histories many of the greatest achievements were performed by men maimed or dwarfed. Caviar was epileptic and headachy; Alexander the Great was a little stooping man; Augustus Caesar and Napoleon very small; Horace “a little blear-eyed contemptible fellow;” Aesop a crooked dwarf; Ignatius Loyola, Epictetus, Agesilaus, Tamer-lane, Shakespeare, Byron and Wedgwood were lame; Homer, Democritus, Milton, Handel and Bach, were blind, Galileo so in later life, Socrates nearly so, and repulsive-looking; Hannibal had but one eye; Nelson but one eye and one arm; Beethoven and Kitto stone-deaf; Demosthenes nervous and stuttering. The two greatest warriors of the 17th century met to fight at Landen: “It is probable that among the hundred and twenty thousand soldiers who were marshalled, the two feeblest in body were the hunchback dwarf, who urged forward the fiery onset of France, and the asthmatic skeleton who covered the slow retreat of England.” It is very well when we can have mens sana &c., but often the sound mind is found in a very unsound body.