We have seen that entrance into the heavenly country is the privilege of every believer, but that possession, and still more, dwelling in it, only belongs to those who make it their own and live in the enjoyment of it.
In the same way it is true with regard to our wilderness life here below, that although all true believers are brought safely through the Red Sea, saved from the judgment of God, delivered from Pharaoh's power and Egypt's slavery, yet it is only as we are really following Christ that we practically find that this world is the "wilderness wide," of which our hymns speak, or that we are pilgrims and strangers in it.
Am I in the Wilderness at All?
These things, beloved reader, are realities, and it will help us but little to know all the resources God provides for our wilderness journey if we are not in it in heart at all. Let us, then, seriously ask ourselves two questions.
First: "Am I, in any sense, a stranger in this world for Christ?" and second: "Am I passing through it as a pilgrim, or living in it as a citizen?" Simple, heart-searching questions like these, honestly asked, and faithfully answered before God, often speak to our consciences more powerfully than the most stirring sermon, and if we are conscientious and yet still clinging to this world, we shall find them very awkward and unpleasant questions to face. Do not shirk them, however, but if they do touch a sore point, let them have their full effect, and show us just where we really are before God.
We noticed in our last paper that we must have a home and enjoyment for our spirits somewhere, and that the only way not to seek this now on earth, is by truly having it as a present reality for our souls with Christ in heaven; or, in other words, the only way to be a stranger in the wilderness, is to be even now at home in Canaan, in spirit, though as to our bodies, we are still pressing on to our rest.
Communion with Christ in heaven alone gives the desire to follow Him on earth, while resurrection life in Him supplies the only power, hence the apostle prays both that he "may know Him," and the power of His resurrection, before he asks to know "the fellowship of His sufferings.”
All My Resources Are in God
The first thing that characterizes the wilderness is that all my resources are in God, my food comes from heaven, my water is given by God, my guide is the cloudy pillar; in short, every detail of my life is ordered by God. All around is nothing but the thirsty desert sand, capable, indeed, of receiving all I have to give, but utterly incapable of helping me an inch on my journey. In fact, from the moment I first passed beneath the sheltering blood of the Lamb, God has been, and is, my sole resource and stay until, in His good time, I actually reach the long looked for "rest of God.”
These, then, are two great lessons to be engraven on our souls as strangers here: 1. There is nothing of this world that can help my spiritual life.
2. All my resources are in God.
Seven Wilderness Lessons
1. The Song.
We will now very briefly glance at seven things connected with the wilderness journey; not in the thought that in any way they embrace the details of it, or even its leading features, but simply because each one may give us food for a few practical thoughts which may be of service to any who with honest hearts are desirous of treading more closely in Christ's footmarks.
The first thing we notice is, that at the start all is smooth, pleasant and joyful. What can be more delightful to the weary, worn out Egyptian slave than to stand on the wilderness shore of the Red Sea, and after seeing the destruction of all the power that held him captive, to raise his joyful heart to God in a song of praise, the first song in Scripture, a song of a delivered soul brought to God, a song full of beauty and meaning, a song that no angel can sing, a song which shall echo through the countless ages of eternity; and then to turn round with his back to Egypt, his face to that glorious heavenly country, which already by faith he counts his home, and starts off with God for his Guide in all the happy freshness of a new-born soul. Surely we all know what it is thus to begin our pilgrimage.
2. Marah-The Power of the Cross.
The second thing that we observe is that Marah is reached, a place of bitter water, water which can only be sweetened by a certain tree. What meaning has this, beloved reader? Did we not think we should find all smooth and pleasant when we first set out to follow Christ, and did we not very soon come across something very bitter and unpleasant, and discover that practically to be crucified to this world, to be dead to it, is not a very pleasant thing? Do we not remember, too, that it was only when we cast in the wood of Christ's cross, and of His sorrows for us, that the waters became sweet, and according to 1 Peter 4, we rejoiced, inasmuch as so early in our journey we had been made in any measure partakers of Christ's sufferings. O! the power of the cross of Christ. No Christian can live three days in this world without meeting Marah in some Way or other, but it is the Marahs which draw us near to Christ's heart. It is the want of water here which makes us go for all our refreshment to the Rock which is Christ, "Who brought the water for our thirst, It cost His blood to win.”
To the soul, therefore, who knows what it is thus to have fellowship with Christ in rejection, these Marahs are sweet, each one marking a never-to-be-forgotten interview between the suffering servant, and the loving Master.
"We know Him as we could not know,
Through heaven's golden years,
We there shall see His glorious face,
But Mary saw His tears.”
(Continued and To be continued.)