“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Send thou men, that they may search the land of Canaan, which I give unto the children of Israel.”
In this way, or with this direction from the Lord to the leader of Israel, does this striking and important scripture open. For it is part of the divine plan to give an earnest, as well as a report, of the distant land of promise and of glory. This was exhibited in early patriarchal days. Eleazer gave Rebecca more than a report about Abraham and Isaac (Genesis 24) He did give her a report, it is true; but, together with that, jewels and ornaments-pledges both of Isaac’s love and of Abraham’s wealth. And so now, in the days of Israel, in this case of the spies and their cluster of grapes. The report of Canaan had already reached the camp, for Moses had been telling them of that land of wine and milk. But the spies are to do more. They are to present a sample, or first fruits, of the land. Their cluster was as the gold and offerings of Eleazar in earlier days. And this is the office of the Holy Ghost in the great economy of our salvation. He is “the earnest of the inheritance;” and His divine and excellent service it is to give the souls of the elect enjoyment; in spirit, of the good things reported and promised, after the manner of a first fruit, or foretaste.
Accordingly, the spies are sent to do their proper business-to search, report, and exhibit the land. The search is made, and the word of the Lord is verified. The land is proved to be a good land, “the glory of all lands.” A fine cluster of grapes, which two of them (I believe Caleb and Joshua, but that is no matter) had to bear between them on their shoulders, attests all and more than had been promised.
But the progress of the story will disclose some serious truth for the soul. May we have grace to ponder it unto profit.
It is a well-known principle, that, according to the brightness of our expectations, we will submit to present labor-nay, when the hope is very dazzling or flattering, we can scarcely say what sacrifices we will not make to it;—shame and poverty will be endured; fatigue, privations, and hardships; dangers will be run, and difficulties encountered. This is known, and practiced, every day. But let the prospect decline, let clouds hang over the distance, let hope slacken in the heart, then, proportionably, all this energy declines;—fatigue is felt in its unrelieved weight; sorrow and privations are known as they are; dangers and difficulties appear in their huge, forbidding shapes; and shame and poverty become intolerable.
So was it now with Israel. The Amalekites and the walled cities are pleaded, and they refuse to go up. By this, the secret of the heart is again betrayed. For what had given the Amalekites and the cities such size and importance in their eyes? This secret is easily known and understood by us. Their souls had lost the sense and value of the promise, and their eye was, therefore, free to see other objects. A little thing would have done the business (answering the purpose of an unbelieving and averted heart) as well as a giant or a citadel. Their heart was not upon the distant, promised Canaan, and any nearer object would command them. And if that object involve an effort or a difficulty, it is better to go back than to face it.
And surely so. If there be nothing to be reached or gained, why encounter a hindrance, though it be but a molehill?
But who, I ask, has thus blotted out the prospect? —what has robbed their soul of the sense of the promise? —what has effaced the distance? —what has shifted the scene so strangely? Their own carnal and earthly minds. They despised the pleasant land, because, in their hearts, they had turned back again to Egypt (Psalms 106:24; Acts 7:39).
The secret is disclosed. They “sought opportunity to return” (Hebrews 11:15). This is the tale of the heart here. All this is plain and an every-day matter. We live, continually, in the midst of experiences and observations like these. The distance is clouded, or left undiscovered and undesired, if the past be regretted and sought again; and then the path is disturbed, and excuses and reasonings upon circumstances arise, as with Israel here. if the distance be brilliant, the present may be dangerous and difficult, still man will try it. If fortune and honor shine afar, an Amalekite will be a man of low stature, and a fenced city an unwalled village. And what does all this? What works this transformation? Hope— desire for the distant and future. It has its eye on the summits at the horizon, and the foreground is overlooked.
All this is surely so. But let me add this serious truth. When, as in this case, the distance is that which the promise of God has spread out before us, when it is the voice of the Lord that has commanded us (as of old it did Abraham) to lift up our eyes, and look from the place where we are, northward and southward, and eastward and westward, with a promise that all shall be ours, then this principle, so found in human nature, becomes a serious searcher of the heart. So with the camp in the wilderness. The spies disclosed their own hearts more thoroughly than the land they were sent to search. For if the blessed God propose a good to me, is it morally nothing whether I esteem or despise it? May I have no relish for His feast, and yet be thought to have a right taste or state of soul? Is it, or is it not, a symptom of an injured condition of the heart, to be in no sympathy with the living God, to Feel no hope stirring, when He is making promises? Must not everything in the soul be wrong when this is so? Surely God is the standard by which to measure ourselves. We cannot, we dare not, say that there is nothing in preferring the onions of Egypt to the grapes of Canaan, in having a heart all alive to the good things of this world, or of nature, and indifferent to the promise of the Lord.
The real state of the affections, to all divine and eternal ends, is to be known only by a proposal from God Himself. And this disclosed Caleb and Joshua, on the one side, and the rest of the spies and the whole camp, on the other.
There is nothing, we may admit, morally wrong in preferring the onions of Egypt to the grapes of Canaan. May not the palate have its choice? And may I not prefer one company, or one country, to another? If Egypt and its river be pleasanter to me than the land on the other side of the Jordan with its Mount Lebanon, what harm do I to any one? what harm to my neighbor, or to society?
All this is so when our ways are tried in the balances of human moral thoughts. But that is not “the weight and measure” which God uses. He tries the way of the heart, in reference to Himself. He assays the purposes, and tastes, and workings of the mind in relation to His words and promises. And righteously so, for He has supreme claim to us, by every title and on every principle. And, therefore, let all this despite of Canaan, this turning back to Egypt, this preference of the onions that grow there to the grapes of the promised land, let all this have not a single bit of moral wrong in it, as far as doing harm to one’s neighbor goes, God-the blessed, supreme Lord of all, to whom every motion of the heart should bow and respond-has been despised and slighted.
And this principle, when simply and justly applied, will often show the thing that is most reputable in the world to be the most loathsome. For all its reputation among men is but the covering of deep enmity against God. People sit together in the courtesies and charities of life-but their feast is over the cucumbers of Egypt, bearing witness that the grapes of God’s land have been deliberately disdained by the whole company 0 the lesson, the solemn lesson, which all this reads to us! The spies were tested, and so was the heart of Caleb, as he himself afterward says: “Forty years old was I when Moses, the servant of the Lord, sent me from Kadesh-barnea to spy out the land; and I brought him word again as it was in my heart”(Joshua 14:7). His heart was right toward God and His promise. The foreground was lost sight of, by him, in the greatness and brilliancy of the distance. The Amalekite was not a giant in his eye. The stoutest of the Anakims, in the thought of that true Israelite, was meat for Israel, a prey for the camp of the Lord (Numbers 14:9). Their strength, in the balances which this dear soul held to weigh it, was nothing-it had melted away already; and, in the beaming, gladdening eye of hope which he had lifted up on the scene, nothing appeared but victory and its spoils, and the triumphant possession of all the promise.
Who does not covet such a mind? This was proving, of a truth, the ground of the heart of Caleb and Joshua.
And we might ask ourselves, What fatigues are we ready to endure-what dangers and difficulties could we go forth to encounter, in the strength of that hope which the promise of God has quickened? Can we make present sacrifice? can we allow ourselves to be beaten in the race for the world’s favor? can we be patient under present slight? can we let our generation run past us, looking for objects more worthy, as it judges, of its regards? These are questions wholesome for the soul. These are honest spies who do their business well. It was a renewed sight of God’s distance, or of the scene which the Lord had spread before him, that restored the soul of the Psalmist, beguiled for a moment by the grudged prosperity of the wicked (Psalms 73).
And so we shall find it. Let hope of heaven possess the heart, and we shall have this restored mind of David, and all these spiritual triumphs of Caleb and Joshua, and many an excellent quality of grace besides; but the lust of other things entering in will spoil our hope. It was that which now, to the eye of Israel, clothed the fruitful vales and sunny heights of Canaan with clouds. They had remembered the onions and fish of Egypt, and the grapes of Canaan were not relished (Numbers 11). And there the root of all this mischief lay.
But this was terrible. And it is terrible when discovered in our own hearts. The delights of Egypt, the land we have left, the place of nature, the great theater of the world’s principles, have their attractions. Too well we know all this. We like gratified vanity and courted pride. We would sacrifice much to the hope of indulging our lusts. All this would animate us, and make us enterprising and patient, if needful. But all this is “of the world,” and “not of the Father” (1 John 2: 10). Canaan will not supply us with Egypt’s fleshpots. Heaven will not gratify pride, or make provision for our lusts. And if we remember the fruits of the land we have left, the grapes of Eschol will be scarcely worth the gathering.
But I must pass on, for in the further progress of these chapters we have the Mediator to contemplate in the midst of all this sad and solemn disclosure.
The Lord appears. The glory descends to the door of the tabernacle, and the camp is awed. For let man storm as he may, the divine presence is always too much for him. Adam retreated from it (Genesis 3:8). Balaam bowed to it (Numbers 22., 23). The self-righteous accusers of the sinner had to go out before it (John 8:9). And here Israel are awed into silence before it. Man can never brook it.
There was a cry of stoning Caleb and Joshua the moment before it appeared, but then all was as still as death; and the Lord and the mediator are left alone to transact the issue of this important moment.
The Lord is angry, and tells Moses what he means to do—that He will disinherit Israel, and make of him a still greater and mightier nation. This was just what it had been in the matter of the golden calf (Exodus 32). Had Moses changed—had he repented of his refusal of this offer—he might now again close in with it. He might still become great at Israel’s expense. And Israel had done nothing since then to bind him afresh to them. They had withstood him, as well as Caleb, in this very matter. But was he changed? that was the question-or is he the same Moses still? Yes, the same Moses still, for love never fails. Moses does not hear, much less listen to, God’s offers. He has heart for nothing but the misery and danger of Israel. And, exactly as before, he plies the Lord with strong arguments why He should still go on with the people, and turn from His purpose.
And, more than this, he uses for Israel the advantages he had gained on the former occasion. He had then enjoyed a manifestation of the divine name, and now he pleads that manifestation on behalf of the present need of guilty Israel (Exodus 34:6,7; Numbers 14:18).
The argument which he takes in hand, and the style in which he conducts the suit, is perfect to admiration. It exhibits both the boldness and love of an advocate.
There was the love of such an one—for Moses, as I have before observed, having acquired a great advantage on a former occasion, now uses it for the people. He does not use a present opportunity for himself, but shows that he valued what he had gained only as far as he can employ it for his poor dependents. Was not this love? And thus it is with our Divine Advocate. He has, like Moses, acquired great advantages. He has won His way to the highest heavens. He is heard “always;” but he uses it for his friend Lazarus (John 11:42). He uses the highest prerogatives of His present glory in behalf of poor believing sinners.
But, again, the advocate is bold also. He says, “Let the power of my Lord be great, according as thou hast spoken, saying the Lord is long-suffering and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression,” &c. What does this mean? Does it not tell the Lord to be as good as His word—to let it now appear (for an occasion has arisen for proving this) that He meant what He said? What, pleading with God!! Was not this boldness? Yes; and yet grateful, most grateful, to the Lord. It was the Lord who had given this Moses to Israel (Exodus 3). Such a mediator was His own, gift.
And this boldness is but the expression of the way of our great Intercessor, of whom it is said, “Who is he that condemneth? it is Christ that died, yea, rather that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.” The boldness of Moses’ suit is the expression of Christ’s rights, and Christ’s way, while standing for us, His poor people. Christ, our Intercessor, has rights which cannot be gainsayed. He pleads, that is true-but he pleads as having right and title. And accordingly, whenever the apostles teach us about his intercessory office, they always convey impressions of its necessary efficaciousness (Romans 8:34; Hebrews 7:25; 1 John 2:1).
This is of great comfort to the soul. Moses valued his advantages only for Israel’s sake, and then used them for Israel in a way that could not be denied.
And I may add that God delights to own Christ’s right to prevail; for as He once gave Israel such a bold and successful advocate as Moses, so has He given believers an Advocate who has rights and title which He Himself has appointed. For Christ did not make Himself High Priest; nor would God have made Him such, had He not been such an one as could have compassion on the ignorant, and on them that are out of the way (Hebrews 5).
Precious mystery! But not only the love and boldness of the Advocate have we to listen to here, but to mark the perfect skill in which lie orders his cause. In this feature of it nothing can surpass what falls from the lips of Moses. And, withal, so simple. He makes this present matter more tie cause of God Himself than of Israel. Such a way is perfect as a piece of advocacy. He reminds the Lord how He had linked Himself with the people, and embarked all His glory in the cause of their safety—His strength, the cloud of His presence, and all His nearest and fullest intimacies; so that now to give them up was to give up the cause of His own glory.
And what could surpass this as a specimen of pleading? Was ever cause more ably defended, or a suit more skillfully conducted?
And this is the way that faith in us may argue. We may say, “No man ever yet hated his own flesh.” No; “but nourisheth and cherisheth it.” Yes; and that is the Lord and us; “for we are members of His body, of His flesh, and of His bones” (Ephesians 5). Our cause is Christ’s. Yes, rather Christ’s than ours.
And there is even more than this. The Advocate tells the Lord, not only that He has linked Himself with Israel, but done so in the sight of the nations. This is another argument in the mouth of this accomplished Advocate. And we can take the value of this also. For so, in the sight of all worlds, the Lord has linked His great name with the salvation of sinners who trust in Him. Angels have been made to look at this great mystery (1 Timothy 3:16; 1 Peter 1:12), and devils have been made to feel the power of it (Colossians 2:15). To principalities and powers in heavenly places have been made known, by the Church, the manifold wisdom of God (Ephesians 3).
This is our blessed estate. God has linked Himself and His name with our history as redeemed sinners, and done so in the sight of all creation. Jesus and His disciples are in the boat on the rough sea together (Mark 4:38-40), and it is cause, rather than theirs, that they reach the shore in safety.
Thus we listen to Israel’s Advocate. And what a specimen of pleading it is! Whatever the Spirit touches, it is always to perfection. When He fills the mouth of an advocate, it is with arguments of surpassing skill.
But I close my meditation. I will not pursue the remaining subjects which the chapters might suggest. We have looked at the Advocate-our Advocate. And we will address Him in these words, well known among us: —
“Great Advocate, Almighty Friend,
On Thee alone our hopes depend;
Our cause can never, never fail,
For Jesus pleads, and must prevail.
In every dark, distressing hour,
When sin and Satan join their power,
Let this blest truth repel each dart,
That Thou dost bear us on Thy heart.”