The Patriarchs Part 24

And still the same, after He had become the _risen Man_. He had not then, it is true, one lodging and repast with His disciples, as once He had. He did not then, as before, go in and out among them. They were not to know Him "after the flesh," as in earlier days. But still there was full intimacy. There was many a note of conscious authority about Him, it is most true. He speaks of all power in heaven and in earth being His. He opens their understandings. He p.r.o.nounces peace upon them on new and authoritative grounds, He imparts the Holy Ghost, as the Head of the new creation. He blessed, as Priest of the temple, the only Priest. All this He does, as risen from the dead, with conscious power; but, with all this, He owns intimacy, loving, personal intimacy, as near and dear as ever, if not more so. He eats and drinks with them, as once He did.

He calls them "brethren," as He had not done before His resurrection. He speaks of having one G.o.d and Father with them, as He had not done then.

Though with all authority He sends them forth to work, yet does He still work with them. Mark xvi.; Luke xxiv.; John xx. And though He was at that time paying them only an occasional visit, a visit now and then, as He pleased, during forty days (Acts i. 3), yet He intimates, by a little action, that, by-and-by, all such distance and separation will be over, and they should "follow" Him to His place, risen and glorified with Himself. John xxi. 19-23.

Is not all this intimacy still? desired and enjoyed intimacy on the part of our "everlasting Lover"? And as to this present dispensation, the same is provided for and maintained, though in a different way. The Holy Ghost is come. The Spirit of truth is in us. Our bodies are nothing less than His living temples or dwelling-places, while the Son has, mystically, borne us to heaven in and with Himself. Eph. ii. 6. Surely no form of fellows.h.i.+p which we have contemplated is more deep and intimate than this. If, personally, the Lord G.o.d was with the patriarchs, and would take a calf and a cake in the love of hospitality--if, in the sight of the whole congregation, He would let the glory fill the temple courts in the joy of its new-found habitation--if, in "the Man Christ Jesus," the Lord G.o.d would walk with us, and share our seasons of rest and labour and refreshment, talking at a well with one elect sinner, or letting another press His bosom at supper, and ask Him about the secrets that were in that bosom--in this present day He has us, in the thoughts and affections of His own heart, up in heaven with Himself, and the Holy Ghost is here with us, in the midst of the thoughts and affections of our hearts.

Is this, I ask, intimacy of a feebler nature? Is this a retracing of His way back into His own perfections and sufficiency, or amid the glories and princ.i.p.alities of angels? Is this _reserve_, as men speak? Is this withdrawing Himself, or repenting of former intimacy with man, as though He had been disappointed and put off? "Adam, where art thou?" was His voice. But has Adam's retreat forced the Lord back? Let this one Witness, this Witness of our times, this indwelling Spirit, leading us in company with Himself after this manner, tell us. All His present way is only a richer pursuit of that purpose which broke forth, in infant form, in the days of Genesis.

And what shall we say of this intimacy in still future days? Redeemed men take the place of cherubic nearness to the throne. The living creatures and the crowned elders are there, and the angels do but surround them as well as the throne. The Lamb's wife, the holy Jerusalem, bears the glory in her bosom. The Tabernacle of G.o.d is with men, and He will dwell with them.

But if all this be so, as it surely is, a holy inquiry arises, How are we to entertain this? In what spirit, and after what manner, are we to act on the truth of this gracious purpose of G.o.d? _We are to admit and believe it in all the simplicity in which it is revealed._ This is our first duty. We are by no means to refuse the thought of this divine nearness. Did John, I ask, refuse to lie on His Lord's bosom, or excuse himself for doing so? No. Neither are we, through mistaken humility, to question whether we have rightly interpreted the many scriptures which declare this truth. We are to use the privileges it confers.

But with this use of its privileges we are to honour its claims. For this presence of G.o.d is a _pure_ as well as a _cheerful_ element. Of old, the shoes were to be taken from the feet, when that presence was entered, to express the sense of holiness which became it. But that was all. Neither Moses nor Joshua were required to withdraw; only to tread softly. They were welcomed and encouraged, while instructed in the holiness of such intimacy.

So in the Canticles. The soul makes its boast of its Lord's love. It does not refuse to listen to the tenderest expressions of it, nor to recite His well-known desire towards her; but withal, there is owned and felt unworthiness. There is the breathing of the purest though most intimate thoughts--an affection quickly sensitive of the putting slight on such wondrous condescensions of divine love, and diligence in nouris.h.i.+ng in the soul the answer due to them. And, thus, this little book gives very clear witness to the truth of G.o.d's intimacy with man, and to the manner in which it should be entertained by us. And in doing this it introduces us to a great divine mystery, which, in like manner, gets its early and constant ill.u.s.tration in the Book of G.o.d--a mystery which must now hold our thoughts for a little. I mean that of the Bride and the Bridegroom.

The Church is called "the Lamb's wife." But this t.i.tle has its meaning.

"The Lamb" is a figure or a description of the Son of G.o.d which tells us of the sorrows He endured for us. The soul well understands this; and therefore this t.i.tle, "the Lamb's wife," tells us that it is by _His sufferings_ the Lord has made her His own; that He valued her so as to give up all for her. And from the beginning He has been publis.h.i.+ng this precious gospel truth.

Ere Adam received Eve he was cast into a deep sleep, and out of his side was taken a rib, of which was formed that one that was afterwards presented to him as his wife. This witnesses the mystery I have mentioned. Adam was humbled and Adam suffered (I mean, of course, only in the symbol or mystery), ere he received Eve; all this casting beforehand the shadow of the humiliation and suffering of the true Adam, in acquiring His Eve for Himself.

So Jacob afterwards. He had to sustain the burthen and heat of a long and toilsome day, ere he could possess himself of Rachel. The law of her people, the law of her country, and the oppressive exactions of the covetous Laban, had put him on these terms. He had to endure the constant consuming of sun and moon, to toil night and day, and have his exile lengthened out, or go without his Rachel.

Joseph, ere he got his Asenath, was separated from his brethren.

The same thing we see in Moses. He too was separated from his brethren.

And still more, he _earned_ Zipporah. He rescued her from oppression, then opened the well to her and her flock, and then her father owned his claim to her hand. So with his second wife. He had to take her at the expense of his good name with his own kindred; she was a black Ethiopian, and did not suit the thoughts of his brother and sister. But he bore the reproach, and married the Ethiopian.

In each of these marriages (typical as well as real) we see _the character_ of the Bridegroom; we see the Lord Jesus Christ possessing Himself of His Bride _at some personal cost_. Whether it be humiliation and suffering, as in Adam, toil and weariness and conflict, as in Jacob, separation and dreary loneliness, as in Joseph, or mere reproach, as doing a thing unworthy of him, as in Moses, still it is, in principle, a _suffering_ Bridegroom that we see.

And I might notice Boaz, another type of the same. He was a mighty man of wealth, but he pleads the cause of a poor gleaner in his fields; he allows her approaches and her suit, and takes her to him to wife. He is not ashamed to make a dest.i.tute stranger, who but a day before depended on the bounty of his hand, the companion of his wealth and honour, and the builder of his house and name among the tribes of Israel. And thus the marriage of Boaz tells out the same mystery, that the Bridegroom of the Church is the One who had before been humbled to redeem her, and make her His own.

Not only, however, in types and ill.u.s.trations is this great truth set forth, but in the plain teaching of Scripture also. It is said, that Christ loved the Church, then gave Himself for it, then sanctified it by the was.h.i.+ng of the Word--and all this, that He might present it worthily to Himself as His Bride. Eph. v. Here, doctrinally, or in the way of plain teaching, we have the _Lamb the Bridegroom_; for ere He takes the Church _He gives Himself for her_. He takes to wife the one whom He had afore purchased with blood.

In Old Testament Scriptures, the same thing is taught, as between the Lord and Jerusalem, which is, _in principle_, the same as Christ and the Church.

Thus, in Isaiah it is said, Thy Maker is thy Husband, thy Redeemer--the whole pa.s.sage showing Jerusalem taken up by the Lord in simple loving-kindness, He owning one that, like the Ethiopian or like Ruth, might be a reproach to Him. liv.

So Jeremiah represents the Lord in the very same grace, taking Jerusalem even after she had proved herself unfaithful, and been legally and judicially put away. iii.

Hosea is made the representative of the same. i.-iii. He buys his wife (iii. 2), he washes and cleanses her, as well as bears the reproach of espousing one in herself so worthless and lost.

So in the striking picture of Ezekiel. Jerusalem is looked at in her loathsome, offensive degradation; but when not one eye pitied, the Lord not only took compa.s.sion on, but quickened, washed, clothed, anointed, beautified, and endowed her, and did not stop till He had taken her to Himself. xvi.

Thus is it in the teachings or voices of the prophets, as in the early types and shadows; both and all telling out the mystery, that _the Lamb_ is the _Bridegroom_, that the One who at the end seats her in the companions.h.i.+p of His glory, had before redeemed her by His blood, washed and purified her by His Word and Spirit, suffered reproach for her (Luke xix. 7), and gone down to her in her ruin, ere He could take her up to His estate and honour.

This is the mystery of the Divine Bridegroom. All human tales or fables fall short of this, let the imagination that wrought them up be as fervent as it may. This is the mystery of a love that pa.s.ses knowledge between Christ and the Church. She must love Him for the service He has shown her; He must love her for the cost she has put Him to. She will find herself for ever by the side of One who so loved her as to die for her. He will see one by His side who so engaged Him that He was willing to go through with His affection, though the cost of loving her would take (to speak after the manner of men) all that He was worth. He cannot but prize her supremely, and so she Him. This only difference may be observed--that His love was proved ere she became His, for He had beforehand counted the cost of loving her--her love, later and more backward, and only in the second place, began on her knowing His love for her. For Christ, as the Bridegroom (as in everything else, whether of grace or glory, Col. i.), is to have "the pre-eminence." In the character of His love He entirely outs.h.i.+nes the love of the bride, and leaves hers, as it were, no love at all, by reason of the love that excelleth.

But having thus looked at the Bridegroom, I would, in like manner, see the Bride for a moment or two. But I must limit myself, and will, therefore, only trace her as reflected in the Book of Genesis.

_Eve_ is, of course, the earliest type. In her we see the personal characteristics of the bride: she is formed by the Lord for Adam. Adam's joy in a helpmeet was what the Lord proposed to Himself when He began to form Eve. He had respect to Adam's need and joy in this work. And when Adam receives Eve from the hand of the Lord, his words express his satisfaction in her, vindicating the Lord's workmans.h.i.+p, that His hand had accomplished the design which His love had undertaken. Eve was fitted to Adam. This was her full personal beauty. He owned her bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. _All in her was attractiveness._ She entirely answered the expectations, and satisfied the heart, of him for whom she had been formed. He took her and clave to her (Gen. ii.); and this, we know, is a type of Christ and the Church. Eph. v.

_Sarah_ is the next distinguished female in that book; and she is a mystic person also. But it is not the Bride whom she expresses, but the Mother. So that I will not particularly notice her. For Abraham is "the father of all them that believe"--and Sarah is "the free woman" or, in an allegory, "the mother of us all" (Gal. iv.), linked with the family of G.o.d in the place of the mother, rather than with the Lord as His Bride. So that I pa.s.s her by.

_Rebecca_ comes next in this holy line, and in her we have the Bride again, as in Eve. But great and blessed truths connected with the Bride are told in Rebecca. She is separated from Isaac. He is far away, and has never seen her. But Rebecca is the father's choice, and Eliezer's care, till Isaac receives her. Isaac longed for her. That is shown by his going forth in solitariness to meditate at eventide. But beyond the sense of this loneliness, we do not see Isaac doing or suffering anything for her. The council about the wife is taken between Abraham and Eliezer. They settle the whole plan. And Eliezer, in beautiful, self-denying service, goes on toil and travel to secure this elect Bride for Isaac. And he does secure her. And he prepares her for him. He not only separates her from her kindred and her father's house, but conducts her across the desert; on the way, doubtless, telling her many a tale of him whose she was so soon to be--till at length he gives her safely into Isaac's hand, and Isaac, like Adam, is comforted in his Bride.

This is a beautiful light in which to look at the Bride; the one who is brought home to her lord from the distant land, having been the object of the father's choice, and of the servant's care. This is a mystery.

And in it we get the Lord receiving His Bride at the hand of the Father and of the Holy Ghost, chosen for Him, and given to Him, He having nothing to do but to take her at their hand, and to find in her, as Isaac found in Rebecca, the relief of his solitariness, the inmate of his tent, and the companion of all his joys.

_Rachel_, next in order, shows herself to us. And in her we get the Bride again, though in a different character. Here we find the one who was to own and enjoy her, travelling and toiling for her. And this is just as true, in the mystery, as the other. For, in one sense, Christ has only to receive His Bride at the hand of the Father and the Holy Ghost, the gift of the one and the workmans.h.i.+p of the other--but, in another sense, He has Himself gone into the distant land, and (as I have already been observing on the Bridegroom) laboured and been put to reproach and wrong for her. In all this, Jacob sets forth the true Bridegroom. The Lord Jesus personally has borne the heat of the day _all alone_. He had not where to lay His head, like Jacob--absent from His Father's house, and the place of His inheritance--wronged again and again in a world which, like Laban and his house, ever seeks its own; and yet, enduring all this, and willing to endure all this, for the love that He had to her whom His eye had rested on; as Jacob's seven years of service seemed to him but as a few days, because of his love for Rachel.

This is as striking a picture of the truth as we have yet seen; here the same mystery of the Bride is still published to us, though still in a distinct part of it. In Eve, we had her full personal fitness for her Lord--in Rebecca, we had her as the object of the Father's election and the Spirit's care, in order to give her to Christ--in Rachel, we see her as the prize, whom the Lord sets before His own eye, for the sake of which He will give Himself to exile and toil and wrongs. As reflected in Isaac, He has nothing to do for her; as reflected in Jacob, He has everything to do for her.

_Asenath_ closes these wonders. She is the woman of the fourth generation of the Patriarchs. There is the Sarah of Abraham, the Rebecca of Isaac, the Rachel of Jacob, and the Asenath of Joseph. She now in her turn takes up the same mystic tale. She was a Gentile, and in nowise, like the rest, connected in the flesh with Joseph. The enmity of his brethren had cast Joseph among her people. And he is honoured there, and with these strange and Gentile honours gets a Gentile bride and family; and in the bosom of this unexpected joy he is willing to forget, for a season, his father's house, and to account himself fruitful or happy, though among strangers.

This, in its season, is as full of meaning as any of our previous pages in this tale of the Bride. For here we get the Bride in her Gentile, heavenly character. Here we are told a great secret; that this same personage, whose beauty and personal characteristics we saw in Eve, whose election by the Father and conduct under the hand of the Spirit we saw in Rebecca, and whose purchase for Himself by the personal toil and sorrow of Christ we saw in Rachel, is a _Gentile_, a _Stranger_, one brought into union with the Lord, after His own kindred in the flesh had refused Him.

All this speaks clearly in the ear of the scribe that is instructed unto the kingdom of heaven; he traces the mystery of the Bride in all this, and listens to Eve, to Rebecca, to Rachel, and to Asenath telling out separate parts of it. And how does all this witness to us _the delight which Christ takes in His saints_! It is not merely that He has saved them by His blood, but they are His crown and His joy, His glory and His delight. His own love and workmans.h.i.+p have been displayed in us, more highly than in any scene of His power. And this joy of Christ in His saints is strongly expressed in each of these cases. We love Him for the sorrows He has endured, and He loves us who thus prize His love. John xiv. 21. And if these affections be not understood as pa.s.sing between Christ and the saint, if we do not, without reserve, allow this satisfaction in each other, our souls will not enter into much of that communion which the Scripture provides for. The Canticles will not be understood, if we do not allow and entertain the thought of Christ's delight in the saints, with the same certainty that we allow the thought of His having purchased and sanctified them by His blood.

But this communion must spring from intelligence of the soul, or it will be mere natural fervour. When Ruth sought the feet of Boaz, and did not again go to the gleaning-field, it was because Naomi had been instructing her further about him. Her soul had pa.s.sed through the light of Naomi's words, and, thus taught, she desires more intimate fellows.h.i.+p with him than she had yet enjoyed. She seeks _himself_. The gleaning-field, where she was less than his handmaids, is deserted, and the place of a suitor for himself is a.s.sumed. She cannot call herself less than one of his handmaids any longer. She seeks a kinsman's love, for she knows him to be a kinsman. And this is truly blessed.

Love, or desire towards another, takes different forms in the heart.

There is the love of _pity_, the love of _grat.i.tude_, and the love of _complacency_. The love of pity regards its object in some sort as _below_ it, and is full of tenderness. The love of grat.i.tude, on the contrary, regards its object as _above_ it, and is full of humility. The love of complacency does not necessarily look either above or below, but simply at its object, and is full of admiration. But, in addition to this, there is the love of _kindred_. It has its foundation in nature, and hence it is called "natural affection." And this love of kindred has a glory which is peculiarly its own. _It warrants the deepest intimacies._ There is no settling of one's self for the other's presence. There is full ease in going out and coming in. _Expressions_ of love are not deemed intrusive--nay, they are sanctioned as being due and comely. The heart knows its right to indulge itself over its object, and that, too, without check or shame. This is the glory of this affection. The love of pity, of grat.i.tude, or of complacency, must act decorously, and in proper form. But the love of kindred, the love of those who dwell in one house, and whom nature or the hand of G.o.d has bound together, feels its right to gratify itself, and is not fearful of being rebuked. See, for instance, Canticles viii. 1. This is its distinguis.h.i.+ng boast. Nothing admits this but itself. This is, in a full and deep sense, "personal affection."

Parents and children, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives (and I might add, friends), know this. They know their t.i.tle to indulge, without scorn or rebuke, in the warmest expressions of their mutual love. And it is the richest feast of the heart. The love of pity has its enjoyment, and so have the love of grat.i.tude and the love of complacency; but they do not, in themselves and alone, warrant these _personal_ fervours. Personally, their objects may be below, above, or at a distance, and should be approached with a due respect to all their rights. But not so with our kindred, because it is their _persons_ and not _their qualities_ or _conditions_, that form the ground of our love.

We may deal with them without apology or reserve. In such cases it is _himself_ that the heart embraces. It is not his sorrows, his favours, or his excellencies, but it is himself, which this affection handles and converses with.

We may receive a benefit from a person, and be a.s.sured of a hearty welcome to it, and yet feel ourselves ill at ease in his presence.

Nothing is more common than this. Grat.i.tude is awakened in the heart very deeply, and yet reserve and uneasiness are felt. It calls for something beyond our a.s.surance of his good-will, and of our full welcome to his service, to make us at ease in the presence of a benefactor. And this something, I believe, is the discovery that we have an interest in _himself_, as well as in his _ability to serve us_.

This delineates, as I judge, the experience of the poor woman with the issue of blood. Mark v. She knew the Lord's ability to relieve her sorrow, and her hearty welcome to avail herself of it. She, therefore, comes and takes the virtue out of Him without reserve. But she comes _behind Him_. This expresses her state of mind. She knows her welcome to His service, but nothing more. But the Lord trains her heart for more.

He lets her know that she is interested in _Himself_, as well as in _His power to oblige her_. He calls her "daughter." He owns kindred or relations.h.i.+p with her. This was the communication which alone was equal to remove her fears and trembling. Her rich and mighty patron is her kinsman. This is what her heart needed to know. Without this, in the spirit of her mind, she would have been still "behind" Him. But this gives her ease. "Go in peace" may then be said, as well as "Be whole of thy plague." She need not be reserved. Christ does not deal with her as a patron or benefactor. Luke xxii. 25. She has an interest in _Himself_ as well as in His _power to bless her_. And so as to the Canticles. It is the love which warrants _personal intimacy_ (after this manner of the nearest and dearest relations.h.i.+ps) that breathes in this lovely book.

The age of the union has not yet arrived. But it is the time of betrothment, and we are His delight. Nay, it was so ere worlds were.

Prov. viii.

Do we believe this? Does it make us happy? We are, naturally, suspicious of any offer to make us happy in G.o.d. Because our moral sense, our natural conscience, tells us of our having lost all right even to His ordinary blessings. The mere moral sense will therefore be quick to stand to it, and question all overtures of peace from heaven, and be ready to challenge their reality. But here comes the vigour of the spiritual mind, or the energy of faith. Faith gainsays these conclusions of nature. It refuses at times to think according to the moral sense of nature, as it refuses at times to act according to the relative claims of nature. In their place, the dictates of the moral sense and the claims of nature are sacred--as we read, "Doth not even _nature_ itself teach you, that if a man have long hair it is a shame unto him?" But still they are not supreme. If G.o.d put in His claim, or make His revelation, the _relations_ of nature and the _moral sense_ of nature are to withdraw their authority. "He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me." And in the revelation of G.o.d, faith reads our abundant t.i.tle to be near to Him and happy with Him, though natural conscience and our sense of the fitness of things would have it otherwise. Faith feeds where the moral sensibilities of the natural mind would count it presuming even to tread.

I ask, then, Do we ponder, without reserve or suspicion, the thought of such love towards us in the heart of Jesus as this book suggests? Does it make us happy? We owe the love of children to G.o.d as our Father, the love of redeemed ones to G.o.d as our Saviour, the love of disciples to Jesus as our Master and Lord. But what is the love that we owe for this way of Christ's heart to us? How are we to meet it in a way worthy of it? This book, I believe, tells us. But this conducts the soul into the holiest. And what grief, and shame, and trouble of heart arise, when we reflect how little we are there, and how many tales against us all this is ever telling!

The Canticles do not give us the ways of filial affection, or of the affection due to a benefactor. But they give us, I believe, the actings of the love of espousals, in both Christ's heart and ours. The joy of hearing the Bridegroom's voice, I may say, is fulfilled here in the heart of the saint, as it was in the soul of the Baptist. And what, I would ask, are the attributes of a commanding affection like this? What do we find the power of it to be, when it seats itself in us?

As to _service_, it makes it welcome. To say that service for the object of this affection is "perfect freedom" is far too cold. It makes service infinitely grateful, even though it call for self-denial or weariness.

And it can render its offering without caring for any eye or heart to approve it, but that of the one whom it has made its object. It cares not that others should be able to esteem its ways. It has all the desired fruit of its service, if its object approve it, and give but its presence at the end of it. As to _society_, this affection wants none but that of its object. If there be no weariness felt in service, as we have been saying, so is there no irksomeness known in solitude. All that is cared for is the presence of that one who commands the heart. There is no sense of solitude, if that one _alone_ be present; there is no sense of satiety, though that one be _always_ present. As to _authority in the soul_, it holds its place, I need not say, unrivalled. It is the man of the heart. It breaks the bands and cuts the cords of other desires. It makes us undervalue all things but the one. It may take other things up, but this is only by the way. It is ever glancing at its own thing, even if others be for a time in the foreground. It looks through the lattices at it. Other things are esteemed according to their connection with it. And it will control the wrong and cultivate the right tendencies of the heart; for occasions which might wound vanity or gratify pride are not valued or pursued, while we retain it; and yet to approve ourselves there, we will nerve the heart and the hand to great and generous ways.

What intenseness is here! and what purity also! It refreshes the soul to think that we have been created susceptible of such affections. But the warning of another is in season. "Wherever a pa.s.sion has these properties, or any of them, conspicuous in it, it cannot, but by being consecrated to G.o.d, avoid becoming injurious to Him and to itself. The very n.o.bleness of it ent.i.tles Him to it." But the same one tells us that we should seek, not to _annihilate_, but to _transfigure_ it. He says, "I would not have it swallowed up by death, the common fate, but be enn.o.bled by a destiny like that of Enoch and Elias, who, having ceased to converse with mortals, died not, but were translated to heaven."