It was midnight in London, in the year 1665. The houses were closed and barred, but strange, lurid fires were lighted in every street. A stifling odor of burning pitch and sulfur filled the air, and from time to time came the heavy rumble of wheels, as a terrible cart, with its awful load, passed by in the darkness of the night. With the cart came a cry, so loud, so clear, so piercing, that it could be heard in all the closed houses of the street. “Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!” Then, one door after another was hurriedly opened, and from the plague-stricken houses one body after another was brought out, and was thrown hastily into that awful cart of death.
Bring out your dead! What a terribly solemn cry! How it must have filled all who heard it with awe and dread! What if that call were repeated: if the holy angels of God were to go through the length and breadth of our land, and, stopping before each house, were to cry, “Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead! Bring out all in your house who are not alive unto God, who are dead in trespasses and sins.” How many would have to be carried out of our houses? Should we ourselves be left behind? Are we alive or dead?
The angels have not yet come to separate the dead from the living, but the time is drawing closer, when the Son of man shall send forth His angels, and they shall gather out of His kingdom all things that offend. All that loathsomeness of death and decay and impurity shall be collected by angel hands, and, we read, they shall cast them, not into a vast pit, such as was dug in London in the time of the plague, but into a furnace of fire, where there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.
It is worthwhile, then, to find out whether our soul is alive or dead. What test shall we use? How shall we settle the matter clearly and definitely?
There is one thing which proves that a man has life. A man, apparently drowned, is brought out of the water. He does not speak or see or move or feel. Resuscitation is attempted but no sign of life can be found. Can we therefore conclude that the man is dead? Let us try this test. Does he have a pulse? An artery is carefully found and pressed. Can the pumping of the blood be felt? A crowd of anxious bystanders gathers around to see. Soon a cry of joy is heard. The blood is flowing. The man lives, the unmistakable sign of life has been found.
How then shall I know if my soul lives? Does it show an unmistakable sign of life? That is the all-important question. But what is such a sign? One sign of life in the soul is prayer. As the old hymn says, Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath, The Christian’s native air.
Saul of Tarsus, with all his outward religion, was a dead soul until the Lord met him and gave him life. What then is the first thing we find Saul doing? “Behold he prayeth.” As soon as he is alive, he breathes, he prays.
Here then is a test for us to apply to our own souls. Do I know anything of real prayer? Do I love to talk to and listen to my God? Am I often lifting up my heart to Him? If I live in the atmosphere of prayer, then it is evident that I am alive unto God. If, on the other hand, I feel prayer to be a burden, and do not know what it is for my heart to hold unseen communion with my Lord, then indeed I am dead in sin, having no breath, and I have consequently no life.
While prayer is a sign of life, let us beware lest our enemy, Satan, deceive us even in this. Remember the two men in Luke 18 who went up to the temple to pray. The first man, the Pharisee, was in the holy place, the temple, and he spoke, saying, “God, I thank thee.” Did he have life? No, in spite of the place where he was and the words he was saying, he was still dead. He had no life. Why? Because he was really talking to himself and not to God. The Word says, “The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself.” One who has life will pray to God, not to himself.
Prayer is a sign of life, but it is not prayer that saves. Salvation comes by trusting in God’s Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ. True prayer shows life, for it shows a soul is depending on God and not on himself. If you are trusting in yourself and not God, you are dead in your sins. Trust in Christ, receive eternal life, and pray.
Nehemiah, the great Rab-shakeh, was a living soul, and he loved to pray. No sooner had he heard the sad news about Jerusalem, than he went to his private apartments in the palace and began to plead with God. He felt that all the trouble that had come on his nation had been richly deserved, so he began with a humble confession of sin.
“Let Thine ear now be attentive, and Thine eyes open, that Thou mayest hear the prayer of Thy servant, which I pray before Thee now, day and night, for the children of Israel Thy servants, and confess the sins of the children of Israel, which we have sinned against Thee.” And then, becoming more personal, he added, “Both I and my father’s house have sinned.”
Was it some special sin which he confessed before God then? Could his sin, and the sin of his father’s house, have been the refusing twelve years ago to leave home and comforts behind them, and to return with Ezra to Jerusalem?
Then Nehemiah pleaded God’s promises to His people in time past, and ended by definitely stating his own special need and request (Neh. 1:8-118Remember, I beseech thee, the word that thou commandedst thy servant Moses, saying, If ye transgress, I will scatter you abroad among the nations: 9But if ye turn unto me, and keep my commandments, and do them; though there were of you cast out unto the uttermost part of the heaven, yet will I gather them from thence, and will bring them unto the place that I have chosen to set my name there. 10Now these are thy servants and thy people, whom thou hast redeemed by thy great power, and by thy strong hand. 11O Lord, I beseech thee, let now thine ear be attentive to the prayer of thy servant, and to the prayer of thy servants, who desire to fear thy name: and prosper, I pray thee, thy servant this day, and grant him mercy in the sight of this man. For I was the king's cupbearer. (Nehemiah 1:8‑11)). Day and night Nehemiah prayed, and nearly four months went by before he did anything further.
The next step was not an easy one. He had determined to speak to the great Persian monarch—to bring before him the desolate condition of Jerusalem, and to ask for a leave of absence from the court at Shushan, in order to restore Jerusalem to something of its former grandeur.
It is not surprising that Nehemiah dreaded this next step. The Persian kings had a great objection to being asked a favor. King Xerxes, when on his way to Greece with his enormous army, passed through Lydia in Asia Minor. Here he was lavishly entertained by a rich man named Pythius, who also gave him a large sum of money for the expense of the war, and furnished five sons for the army. After this Pythius thought he might venture to ask a favor of the Persian monarch, so he requested that his eldest son might be allowed to leave his regiment, in order that he might stay at home to be the comfort and support of his aged father. But, instead of granting this very natural request, Xerxes was so much enraged at having been asked a favor, that he commanded the eldest son to be killed and cut in two, and then caused his entire army to file between the pieces of the body.
Artaxerxes, the king whom Nehemiah served, was considered one of the gentlest of Persian monarchs, and yet even he was guilty of acts of savage cruelty, of which we cannot read without a shudder. For example, when he came to the throne, he found in the palace a certain eunuch named Mithridates, who had been involved in his father’s murder. He condemned this man to be put to death in the most horrible and cruel way. He was laid on his back in a kind of horse-trough, and strongly fastened to the four corners of it. Then another trough was put over him, leaving only his head and hands and feet uncovered, for which purpose holes were made in the upper trough. Then his face was smeared with honey, and he was placed in the scorching rays of the sun. Hundreds of flies settled on his face, and he lay there in agony for many long days. Food was given him from time to time, but he was never moved or uncovered, and it was more than two weeks before death released him from his sufferings.
It was the very king who had put one of his subjects to this death of awful torment before whom Nehemiah had to appear, and of whom he had to make a request. No wonder, then, that he dreaded the interview, and that he felt that he needed many months of prayer to make him ready for it. It was in the month Chisleu (December) that Hanani had arrived—it was not until Nisan (April) that he made up his mind to speak to the king.
Before leaving his room that morning, he knelt down, and put himself and his cause in the Lord’s hands (Neh. 1:1111O Lord, I beseech thee, let now thine ear be attentive to the prayer of thy servant, and to the prayer of thy servants, who desire to fear thy name: and prosper, I pray thee, thy servant this day, and grant him mercy in the sight of this man. For I was the king's cupbearer. (Nehemiah 1:11)). Then, attired in his official dress, the Rab-shakeh set forth for the state apartments of the palace.
The central building of that magnificent place in which the king held court was very fine and imposing, as may be seen today from the extensive ruins of Shushan. In the center of it was the Great Hall of Pillars, 200 feet square. In this hall were no less than thirty-six pillars, each sixty feet high, arranged in six rows. Around this grand hall were the beautiful reception rooms of the king, and these were carefully arranged in order to ensure perpetual coolness even in the hottest weather. There was no room on the hot south side of the palace, but on the west was the morning room, in which all the morning entertainments were held, while the evening banqueting hall was on the eastern side. By this arrangement the direct rays of the sun were never felt by those within the palace. Then, on the cool northern side was the grand throne room, in which the king sat in state. A whole army of soldiers could march through this enormous room without the slightest confusion, entering and leaving the room by stone staircases placed opposite each other. The steps were only four inches in depth and sixteen feet wide, and were built this way so that horsemen could easily mount or descend them.
Into one of the grand halls of the palace Nehemiah the cup-bearer entered. The pavement was of colored marble: red, white and blue. Curtains of blue and white, the Persian royal colors, draped the windows and were hanging in graceful festoons from the pillars, and the fresh morning breeze from the snow-clad mountains was blowing through the room.
There was the royal table, covered with golden dishes and cups, and spread with every dainty that the world could produce.
There was the king, a tall, graceful man, but with one strange deformity—with hands so long that when he stood upright they touched his knees. Because of this peculiarity he had received the nickname of Longimanus, the long-handed.
He was dressed in a long, loose robe of purple silk, with wide sleeves, and around his waist was a broad, golden belt. His tunic or undergarment was purple and white; his trousers were bright crimson; his shoes were yellow, and had long pointed toes. On his head was a curious high cap with a band of blue spotted with white. In addition, he was covered with ornaments: he had gold earrings, a gold chain, gold bracelets and a long golden scepter with a golden ball on top.
The king was sitting on a throne shaped like a high-backed chair with a footstool before it. The chair stood on lion’s feet, and the stool on bull’s feet, and both were made of gold.
By the king’s side sat the queen; her name was Damaspia, but we know little more of her in history, except that she died on the same day as her husband. Behind the king and queen were the fan-bearers and fly-flappers and parasol-bearers, who were in constant attendance on their royal majesties. Around were the great officers of the household.
Fifteen thousand people ate the king’s food in that palace every day, but the king always dined alone. Even the queen and the royal children were seldom allowed to sit at the king’s table, which is probably the reason why Nehemiah mentions the fact that the queen was sitting by him. Perhaps he saw the circumstance as a proof that the king was in good humor that day, and would therefore be more likely to listen to his petition. But no one who was not closely related to the king was allowed to sit at the royal table. Even the most privileged courtiers sat on the floor and ate at his feet.
The feast had begun, and it was time for the Rab-shakeh to present the wine to the king. He took the jeweled cup from the table in the king’s presence, carefully washed it, and filled it with a rare wine, named the wine of Helbon, which was kept only for the king’s use. This wine was made from very fine grapes, at a place in Lebanon not far from Damascus, named Helbon. Nehemiah poured a little wine into his left hand and drank it, and then, lightly holding the cup between the tips of his fingers and thumbs, he gracefully presented it to the great monarch.
Artaxerxes glanced at his cupbearer as he rose from his knees. At once he noticed something remarkable. Nehemiah was pale and anxious and troubled; his whole face told of the struggle going on within, and the king could not help noticing. Turning to the Rab-shakeh he asked: “Why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou art not sick? this is nothing else but sorrow of heart.”
“Then,” said Nehemiah, “I was very sore afraid.” It was no wonder that he was alarmed, for it was actually a crime, proscribed by law, for anyone to look sad or depressed in the presence of a Persian king. What would the king do? Would he dismiss him from office? Would he degrade him from his high position? Would he punish him for his breach of court etiquette? Or was this a heaven-sent opportunity for him to make his request?
He answered at once: “Let the king live forever: why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers’ sepulchers, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?”
And the king, understanding from Nehemiah’s speech that he wanted something from him, asked immediately: “For what dost thou make request?”
What a critical moment! So much depended on Nehemiah’s answer to this unexpected question! What should he say? The whole future of Jerusalem might hang on his answer to the king’s question.
There was a moment’s pause, but only a moment’s, and then Nehemiah’s answer was given. Only a moment, and yet great things had been done in that short time. “I prayed,” said the Rab-shakeh, “to the God of heaven.”
Did he kneel down in the middle of the banqueting hall and call upon his God? No, he did not speak aloud. He did not even close his eyes. The king saw nothing, knew nothing of what was going on, yet a mighty transaction took place in that short time between the silent cupbearer and the King of heaven.
We are not told what the prayer was. Perhaps it was only, “Lord, help me.” But quick as lightning the answer came. His fear fled; wisdom was given him to answer, and his heart’s desire was granted.
How often we hear the complaint, “I cannot pray long prayers, like the good people I read of in books. I lead a busy, active life, and when work is done, I am weary and exhausted, and I find it impossible to pray for very long. Sometimes I am afraid that because I cannot offer long prayers I cannot be the Lord’s.” But surely it is not long prayers that the Lord requires.
The actual prayers recorded in the Bible are short prayers. The Lord’s pattern-prayer for the disciples is one of the shortest. It is the heathen who think they will be heard for their much speaking. Nehemiah’s was a true prayer and an answered prayer, even though it was only a very short one.
Nor are audible words necessary to prayer. The followers of Baal cried aloud, thinking their much shouting would reach the ear of their god. But Nehemiah did not speak out loud, he did not even whisper, and yet his prayer was heard in heaven. Surely today when there are some who seem to think that much noise or loud shouting is a necessary part of prayer, it is well for us to be reminded that God pays attention to no language or voice but the language of the soul, the voice of the innermost heart.
Nor is posture a necessary part of prayer. Some choose to pray standing; others prefer to kneel. It is not the posture of body God looks at, but the posture of the heart. There must be reverence, but such a reverence as comes from the soul, and which only finds outward expression in the body. Nehemiah stood with the jeweled cup in his hands, yet Nehemiah’s prayer was heard.
So we see that heartfelt prayer may be short, silent, and offered in a strange place and at a strange time, and yet be heard and answered by God.
Let us try to understand this thought fully, for we live in a world of surprises. We get up in the morning, not knowing what may happen during the day. We are walking on a road with many turnings, and we never know what may meet us at the next step! All of a sudden we find ourselves face to face with an unexpected perplexity. What shall we do? What course shall we take? Here is the little prayer made ready for our use: “Lord, guide me.”
Then, at the next turn, comes a sudden temptation. Unjust, cruel words are spoken, and we feel we must give an angry reply. Let us stop one moment before we answer, and in that moment quietly pray: “Lord, help me.” Or a sudden danger to body or soul stares us in the face. At once we may lift up our heart and cry: “Lord, save me.”
There is no need to kneel down, no need to speak aloud, no need to move from our place. In the office or the schoolroom, in the car or on the street, wherever we may be and in whatever company, a short, silent prayer may be sent up to the God of heaven. Thank God, no such prayer is ever unanswered!