“And when the people complained, it displeased the Lord: and the Lord heard it; and his anger was kindled; and the fire of the Lord burnt among them, and consumed them that were in the uttermost parts of the camp. And the people cried unto Moses; and when Moses prayed unto the Lord, the fire was quenched. And he called the name of the place Taberah; because the fire of the Lord burnt among them. And the mixed multitude that was among them fell a lusting; and the children of Israel also wept again, and said, Who shall give us flesh to cat? We remember the fish which we did eat in Egypt freely; the cucumbers and the melons, the leeks and the onions and the garlic. But now our soul is dried away; there is no-thing at all, beside this manna, before our eyes.”
Here the poor human heart lets itself thoroughly out. Its tastes and its tendencies are made manifest. The people sigh after the land of Egypt, and cast back wistful looks after its fruits and its fleshpots. They do not say aught about the lash of the taskmaster and the toil of the brick kilns. There is total silence as to these things. Nothing is remembered now, save those resources by which Egypt had ministered to the lusts of nature.
How often is this the case with us! When once the heart loses its freshness in the divine life—when heavenly things begin to lose their savor—when first love declines—when Christ ceases to be a satisfying and altogether precious portion for the soul—when the word of God and prayer lose their charm, and become heavy, dull, and mechanical; then the eye wanders back toward the world, the heart follows the eye, and the feet follow the heart. We forget, at such moments, what the world was to us when we were in it, and of it. We forget what toil and slavery, what misery and degradation we found in the service of sin and of Satan, and think only of the gratification and ease, the freedom from those painful exercises, conflicts, and anxieties which attend upon the wilderness path of God’s people.
All this is most sad, and should lead the soul into the most profound self-judgment. It is terrible when those who have set out to follow the Lord begin to grow weary of the way and of God’s provision. How dreadful must those words have sounded in the ear of Jehovah, “But now our soul is dried away: there is nothing at all, beside this manna, before our eyes.” Ah, Israel, what more didst thou need? Was not that heavenly food enough for thee? Couldst thou not live upon that which the hand of thy God had provided for thee?
Do we count ourselves free to ask such questions? Do we always find our heavenly manna sufficient for us? What means the frequent inquiry raised by professing Christians as to the right or wrong of such and such worldly pursuits and pleasures? Have we not even heard from the lips of persons making the very highest profession, such words as these, “How are we to fill up the day? We cannot be always thinking about Christ and heavenly things, we must have a little recreation.” Is not this somewhat akin to Israel’s language in Numbers 11? Yes truly; and as is the language, so is the acting. We prove, alas! that Christ is not enough for the heart by the palpable fact of our betaking ourselves to other things. How often, for example, does the Bible lie neglected for hours, while the light and worthless literature of the world is greedily devoured. What mean the well-thumbed newspaper and the almost dust-covered Bible? Do not these things tell a tale? Is not this despising the manna, and sighing after, nay devouring, the leeks and onions?
We specially call the attention of young Christians to that which is now before us. We are deeply impressed with a sense of their danger of falling into the very sin of Israel, as recorded in our chapter. No doubt we are all in danger; but the young amongst us are peculiarly so. Those of us who are advanced in life are not so likely to be drawn away by the frivolous pursuits of the world—by its concerts, its flower-shows, its pleasure-parties, its vain songs and light literature. But the young will have a dash of the world. They long to taste it for themselves. They do not find Christ an all-sufficient portion for the heart, they want recreation.
Alas! alas! what a thought! How sad to hear a Christian say, “I want some recreation. How can I fill up the day? I cannot be always thinking of Jesus.” We should like to ask all who speak thus, How will you fill up eternity? Shall not Christ be sufficient to fill up its countless ages? Shall you want recreation there? Will you sigh for light literature, vain songs, and frivolous pursuits there?
It will, perhaps, be said, “We shall be different then.” In what respect? We have the divine nature—we have the Holy Ghost—we have Christ for our portion—We belong to heaven—we are brought to God. “But we have an evil nature in us.” Well, are we to cater for that? Is it for that we crave recreation? Must we try to help our wretched flesh, our corrupt nature, to fill up the day? Nay we are called to deny it, to mortify, to reckon it dead.’ This is christian recreation. This is the mode in which the saint is called to fill up his day. How is it possible for us to grow in the divine life, if we are only making provision for the flesh? Egypt’s food cannot nourish the new nature; and the great question for us is this, Which do we really mean to nourish and cherish—the new or the old? It must be obvious that the divine nature cannot possibly feed upon newspapers, vain songs, and light literature; and hence, if we give ourselves in any measure to these latter, our souls must wither and droop.
May we have grace to think of these things, to think seriously. May we so walk in the Spirit that Christ may ever be a satisfying portion for our hearts. Had Israel in the wilderness walked with God, they never could have said, “Our soul is dried away: there is nothing at all, beside this manna, before our eyes.” That manna would have been quite enough for them. And so with us. If we really walk with God in this wilderness world, our souls shall be satisfied with the portion that He gives, and that portion is a heavenly Christ. Can He ever fail to satisfy? Does He not satisfy the heart of God? Does He not fill all heaven with His glory? Is He not the theme of angels’ song, and the object of their adoring homage and wondering worship? Is He not the one grand subject of everlasting counsels and purposes? Doth not the history of His ways overlap eternity?
What answer have we to give to all these queries? What but a hearty, unreserved, unhesitating YES? Well, then, is not this blessed One, in the deep mystery of His Person, in the moral glory of His ways, in the brightness and blessedness of His character—is not He enough for our hearts? Do we want aught beside? Must we get the newspaper or some light magazine to fill up the vacuum in our souls? Must we turn from Christ to a flower-show or a concert?
Alas, that we should have to write thus! It is most sad ï but it is most needful, and we here put this question most pointedly to the reader: Dost thou really find Christ insufficient to satisfy thy heart? Hast thou cravings which He does not fully meet? If so, thou art in a very alarming condition of soul, and it behooves thee to look at once, and to look closely, into this solemn matter. Get down on thy face before God in honest self-judgment. Pour out thy heart to Him. Tell Him all. Own to Him how thou hast fallen and wandered—as surely thou must have done when God’s Christ is not enough for thee. Have it all out in secret with thy God, and take no rest until thou art fully and blessedly restored to communion with Himself—to heart fellowship with Him about the Son of His love.