NO more interesting or profitable study could be found than the history of the times of Abraham and Lot.
The Historical Accuracy of the Narrative.
It has become popular in our days to doubt the accuracy of the statements of Holy Scripture. The Book of God is one that speaks to every man’s conscience. It gives us many a home thrust on the question of sin, and lays bare in a way we little like the hidden springs of evil in the heart. Then, too, it speaks in no uncertain manner as to judgment to come.
The Bible tells me how sin came into the world; it tells me that I am a sinner; it tells me that God is holy and just; it tells me that a day is coming after death when that holy God will judge the sinner. True, it tells us also of the way that God has Himself devised whereby the sinner may be pardoned, and justified, yea, even reconciled to God—all this through the death of His dear Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who came “the guilty and the lost to save.”
But man does not like this humbling of all his pride. He has a nature, too, at enmity against God, a nature of which he became possessed at the Fall.
If therefore some way could be found for discrediting the Bible, some ground for throwing doubt upon its accuracy, some means of weakening its authority upon the conscience, how grateful some men would be!
Here the great enemy of our souls endeavored to make a breach in the citadel of faith. The Pentateuch he declared through the instrumentality of learned critics is thoroughly unreliable. The times of Abraham were so remote it was difficult to prove or disprove. The Bible was the only book that pretended.to record these by-gone events; might they not all be pure fabrications? So earnest was the zeal of these destructive theologians that all Christendom was being filled with unbelief and infidelity.
When lo! God in His providence and great mercy brought to light by means of the excavator’s shovel overwhelming evidence of the accuracy of the narrative contained in these opening chapters of Genesis.
The higher critics had denied that such a person as Abraham had ever existed, and that any such city as Ur of the Chaldees was ever built. But today the very foundations of the city have been uncovered, and the buildings and monuments that existed in Abraham’s day, some four thousand years ago, have been exposed before the view of this unbelieving generation.
Chaldea, as we know from Genesis 10, was originally peopled by the descendants of Ham, yet out of it, as we learn from Genesis 12, God called Abraham, who belonged to a Shemitic family. This to the rationalist seemed passing strange, too strange to be true. But the explorers of the ancient ruins of Ur have brought to light bricks and tablets bearing distinctly Hebrew names, even those of Abram, Jacob, and Joseph!
More than this we learn from these ancient remains that idolatry reigned supreme in Ur, for the foundations of a large temple dedicated to the sun have been unearthed. How perfectly consistent this is with the Bible narrative, a reference to Joshua 24:22And Joshua said unto all the people, Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Your fathers dwelt on the other side of the flood in old time, even Terah, the father of Abraham, and the father of Nachor: and they served other gods. (Joshua 24:2) will establish: “Joshua said unto all the people, Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Your fathers dwelt on the other side of the flood (i.e., the river Euphrates) in old time, Terah, the father of Abraham, and the father of Nachor: and they served other gods.”
Yes, the Bible is absolutely reliable. Let us seek to learn the lessons it teaches.
Abraham’s Call.
There in that city whose foundations now lie exposed Abraham once lived. He, too, no doubt had trod the courts of that idol’s temple; when, lo! “the God of glory” appeared to him. Sovereign mercy singled him out even from his father’s house, destined him to a glorious future in a city whose foundations shall endure forever, “whose builder and maker is God” (Heb. 11:1010For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. (Hebrews 11:10)).
The call of God’s grace met with the response of faith— “He went out, not knowing whither he went.”
Is not this a beautiful picture of the gospel call? Have you, reader, ever heard that call? Where are you journeying to? Time, with all its changes, its fleeting pleasures, its overwhelming disappointments, its mingled joys and sorrows, will soon have passed for you. What lies beyond? Have you heard God’s gracious call through the gospel? Have you in faith responded? Have you started on the heavenward journey? Have you, deep down in your heart, heard the call of the God of all grace, inviting you to share His eternal glory by Christ Jesus? (1 Peter 5:1010But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you. (1 Peter 5:10)).
If you have not yet, remember that He is now calling to you. Unstop your ears, and listen to His voice. “The whole world lieth in the Wicked One,” so the Word of God declares (1 John 5:1919And we know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness. (1 John 5:19)), and all is hurrying on to its judgment.
“Get thee out”
But perhaps you ask, How can I know whether God has called me? Why, He is calling you at this very moment by means of this gospel magazine. Every gospel address you listen to, every gospel book you read, is God’s invitation to you. Oh, how great are your responsibilities!
Then, too, remember that time is fast fleeting by. This may be the last appeal that will ever be made to you.
Decide at once.
A few months ago, while staying in one of the eastern counties of England, a strong desire came over me to travel right across country to Crewe, and see a man who lived in that neighborhood. I had heard of him some years previously as being a Christian, but I had never seen him. Now I could not shake off the feeling that I must go and see him.
After a day’s traveling I arrived at Crewe about 5 P.M. It was getting dusk, it had been drizzling all day; it was certainly a most uninviting night for a trudge into the country of three miles there and back. However, as I had to catch the night train at 9 P.M., I started off in the rapidly increasing darkness, amidst gusts of wind and rain. Many a time did I stop, and say to myself, “Better turn back.” But something forced me forward.
After considerable difficulty I reached the village where John C—lived. Everybody knew him, and so I quickly found myself at his cottage door.
“Is this where John C—lives?” I asked of the child who came to open in answer to my knock. “Yes, sir; will you come in?”
There by the fire sat a man, smoking a short, dirty clay pipe; the kitchen was filled with smoke—tobacco smoke. His wife, an untidy looking woman, and five or six children sat about. The whole place had a neglected, uncared for appearance. A strange place, thought I, for a Christian man to live; and a poor testimony for Christ in that village.
They all stared in silent wonder as I took a chair, never having seen me before.
“Is your name John C—?” I asked.
“Yes, sir, that is my name,” the man replied.
“Do you not have meetings in your house?” I continued.
“Meetings, sir, no, what kind of meetings?” he asked in some bewilderment.
“Why, meetings for prayer, and for reading the Bible. You tell me you are John C—.”
“Oh, I know what you mean now,” said the man, as a slight ray of intelligence seemed to pass over his surprised countenance, “it’s my father you want; he used to live here, and I think I did hear tell of him having prayer meetings in this house. But he be dead five years, and there don’t be no meetings now,” and again the pipe began to puff.
“Your father was a child of God,” I replied; “he knew and loved the Lord Jesus Christ, and better still he knew that Christ had loved him and had died for him; and now that your father has gone, I know that he has gone to be with Christ, and he will be with Christ in heavenly glory forever. Are you a child of God? Are your sins forgiven? Are you on your way to heaven too?”
Every eye in that little kitchen had been fixed upon me as I spoke, and now all turned and looked at the man who sat uneasily puffing his pipe.
“No, sir, I can’t say as I am,” was the slow reply.
“And how is it with you?” I asked, turning to the wife.
“No, sir, I’m not saved, that I know,” was her answer.
Each of the children in turn was questioned; not one bore the smallest testimony to a personal faith in the Saviour. It was a Christless house, a prayerless house, a house where the Bible was not read.
A solemn silence followed, and again every eye was fixed upon me, as I spoke once more.
“If these cottage walls could speak, what a history they would reveal. How often has that father, who is now with Christ, breathed out his soul in prayer on your behalf! How often has he cried to God for your salvation. And here am I, a perfect stranger to him and to you—I have traveled right across England this day, and on this dark, blustering, rainy night have walked out through mud and water to put this solemn question to you! Oh, man, this is God’s voice to you! In all probability we shall never meet again on this earth, but to your dying day you will never forget this night. It is no mere chance, of that I am sure. It is a solemn appeal from God to your soul.”
A strange stillness made itself felt in that village kitchen, as the man solemnly and slowly replied, “It—is—strange—anyhow.”
Reader, it was God’s call to him, and this is now God’s call to you. It may be the last, Oh,
“Will you believe,
And the Saviour receive?”
A. H. B.