The same creature will at different times of its existence entirely change its food, rejecting the old and relishing the new. The caterpillar gorges itself with cabbage-leaf whilst it crawls prone on the earth; but, when that mysterious change comes which transforms and glorifies it into an ethereal being flying over sunlit gardens, it cares nothing for the old gross food; it sips with delicacy and delight from the nectars of the flowers. The food of Egypt—the leeks, the onions, and the garlic—is of the earth, earthy, the roots which are palled out of the ground. The food of Canaan grows above the earth in the heavenly places—the fig, the vine, the pomegranate, the old corn of the land. Between the two is the wilderness where the food is different from either, coming down from heaven and resting on the earth—the heavenly Christ in humiliation, for which one must indeed stoop, but neither grovel nor burrow. Of this intermediate wilderness food an omer, that is, a full man's daily portion, is afterward laid up in the Ark of the Testimony, being perpetually kept as a treasure and memorial before the Lord by the people. When they reach the promised land, they will live by the other food referred to, which typifies Christ in resurrection and ascension—having fallen as a corn of wheat into the ground and died, and now no longer abiding alone. But each soul will forever treasure a full remembrance and appreciation of that lovely and holy human life, the contemplation of which was our spiritual strength and nourishment here. For this purpose the manna could be kept without losing its freshness during the sabbath (Millennium, Heb. 4) or throughout eternity. But when men sought to lay it by for other purposes, they were disappointed: if instead of appropriating Christ when He is proffered, while it is “to-day,” we presume to make a mere convenience of Him, we shall find no result but corruption and defilement: the proffered blessing becomes a curse.
The people reach Rephidim, and Moses is commanded to take the rod (of judgment) and with it to smite the Rock; on which the waters streamed forth, giving renewed life, cleansing and refreshment to the tribes. “That rock was Christ,” and, consequent on His sacred suffering under the judgment of God, the Holy Ghost proceeds forth with an exhaustless regenerating, purifying, and restoring power. (The learned critic confuses this event with one that occurs twenty years afterward in Num. 20, but there are some deeply instructive differences, which he calls discrepancies: chiefly that in Numbers Moses is not told to strike the rock, but to speak to it, for Christ, having once suffered, must not be put afresh to suffering. Also he is told to take the rod [of Aaron's priestly office]; he does take it, but smites the rock, and smites it with his own judicial rod, making a serious double mistake, as we are told in ver. 7.)
Then a remarkable change of attitude occurs. That which is connected with the manna is the sabbath with Christ comes rest; but when they get the Water, the Amalekites come and give them battle—with the Holy Ghost's advent is conflict. The disciples were to stay at Jerusalem until the promised Spirit was given; and then immediately began their tremendous struggle with the powers of evil—not before, for God does not let the battle commence till His soldiers are thus empowered to meet the foe. A new leader is now required. The wise, all-comprehensive, shepherd-care of Moses continues ever; but an aggressive attitude is now to be assumed, and so Joshua leads in the van of, the host, and chooses lieutenants (Acts 13:22As they ministered to the Lord, and fasted, the Holy Ghost said, Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them. (Acts 13:2))—a type of the leadership in the power of the Holy Ghost of the people of God against their spiritual foes through the wilderness of life, whilst Moses, aloft in prayer, represents the simultaneous intercession of our Lord on high: if the intercession cease for a moment, the battle goes against them.
It is necessary that the redeemed people of God should have training and practice in warfare. Though strife in itself is so contrary to the divine nature, yet we are placed in conditions where it is necessary to fight earnestly and ceaselessly; therefore discipline and instruction are needed. David says, “He teacheth my hands to war, so that a bow of steel is broken by mine arms.” There may be (to reason on Bp. Butler's lines) no need of conflict in the future life, but there may be every need for those qualities of character produced by conflict here, qualities that could be only produced by this means. “Plenty and peace breed cowards; hardness ever of hardiness is mother.” There are studies, such as mathematics, which we have to go through in our schooling days, which the bulk of us find no necessity for using in later life; but we always find the benefit of the logical habit and mental discipline that could be produced only by such studies. King Arthur's sword is hung up by his emblazoned shield never to be used in war again, but its record ennobles it. We know that fire, blows, and attrition have evolved temper, power, keenness, and beauty in it, and that these qualities forever remain; we know that the king's arm has wielded it against his foes in battle, and that, above all, is what glorifies Excalibur and distinguishes it from a piece of common metal.
And since these qualities have to be developed, and can only—so far as we know—be developed by conflict, it is one of the highest attributes of Christianity that it leads us to war, not against our fellowmen—much less against our fellow-Christians—but against the evil principles that assail both them and us. Its genius is presented in the similitude of a Physician Who, whilst He mercifully heals and saves men, grapples with and slays the malignant, lurking evils that fasten on them and seek to destroy them. The conflicts of the physician with ghastly and insidious disease, often in peril of his life, call for as much courage, energy, vigilance, and capacity as those of the soldier on the field of battle. The qualities needed are the same, but the tendency of their action is reversed. “The Son of God goes forth to war......His blood-red banner streams afar; Who follows in His train? Who patient bears his cross below, He follows in His train.” Conflict may be in passive suffering and endurance as truly as in energetic assault.
Each of Israel's foes has its peculiar typical character and methods of warfare. The Amalekites represent those carnal and sinful principles which seek now in the wilderness to hinder and injure us. Their method of warfare—quite different from that of the politic Philistine or the brave Jebusite—was mean and cowardly: they “smote the hindmost all that were feeble......when thou wast faint and weary,” a dastard foe that lies in wait for every subtle and unfair advantage against our souls—whom God has sworn to destroy and concerning whom He has commanded, “Then shalt blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven—thou shalt not forget it.” Other foes might be treated leniently, but not this one. There must be no trace; no quarter-guerre a routrance.
If we indulge the evil fleshly nature, we are feeding Amalek instead of fighting him, and are traitors to our leader and cause. The synapta, or “sea cucumber,” has a power of great and rapid growth when it has much to feed on—like the sinful principles within and around us; but when deprived of food, it has the power to shed off parts of its body, bit by bit, till there is little but the head left (that, indeed, is very slow to die, but it is not formidable without limbs to work with). The most effective way of fighting Amalek is by cutting off his supplies. He lingers long, and many times after he seems to have been entirely destroyed, we meet his accursed race in very unexpected places—Agag on the throne; Haman in the council-chamber; but the ruthless sword of the prophet shall hew Agag in pieces, and Haman shall perish on the gallows that he had designed for Mordecai.