IN that old Hebrew world that lies now so far back
in the dim twilight of the past, there were several customs, of more than
transient interest, one of which claims our thought as it glistens for
a moment beneath the touch of this Epistle, as a wave far out to sea, when
smitten for a moment by the sunlight.
It appears that if an Israelite, through the stress
of bad seasons and disappointing harvests, were to fall into deep arrears
to some rich neighboring creditor-so much so that he owed him even more
than the land of his inheritance was worth-he was permitted not only to
alienate his land till the year of jubilee, but to sell his own service
so as to work out his debt. It must have been a very painful thing for
the peasant proprietor to say farewell to his humble home and endeared
possessions, in which his forefathers had lived and thriven, and to go
forth into the service of another. Very affecting must have been the farewell
walk around the tiny plot, which he and his might not live to revisit.
And yet the bitterness of the separation must have been greatly mitigated
and lessened by the instant freedom from anxiety which ensued. No more
dark forebodings for the future; no eager questioning of how to keep the
wolf from the door; no unequal struggle with the adverse seasons. All responsibility-for
the payment of other creditors, for supplies of food and clothing for himself
and his wife and children-from henceforth must rest on the shoulders of
another.
So the appointed six years passed away, and at their
close the master would call the laborer into his presence, to give him
his discharge. But at that moment he might, if he chose, bind himself to
that master's service forever. If he shrank from facing the storms of poverty
and difficulty; if he preferred the shelter and plenty of his master's
home to the struggle for existence from which he had been so happily shielded;
if, above all, he loved his master, and desired not to be separated from
him again, he was at liberty to say so" I love my master, I will not go
out free." Then, solemnly, and before the judges, that the choice was deliberately
ratified, his master bored his ear through with an awl to the doorpost,
leaving a permanent and indelible impression of the relationship into which
they had entered. "And he shall serve him forever" (Exod. xxi. 6). This
custom was-
ALLUDED TO BY THE PSALMIST (Psalm xl. 6). Living
amid the routine of daily, monthly, and yearly sacrifices, this saint felt
deeply their inability to take away sin, and saw that the true offering
to God must be of another kind. What could he do adequately to express
his sense of the wonderful works and countless thoughts of God! Surely
the offered sacrifice of flour or blood, the burnt-offering or sin offering
could not be the highest expression of human love and devotion; and then
he bethought him of a more excellent way. He will come to God, bearing
in his hand the volume of the book of his will; his heart shall dote upon
that holy transcript of his Father's character; yea, he will translate
its precepts into prompt and loving obedience. "I delight to do thy will,
0 my God; yea, thy law is within my heart." " This shall please the Lord
better than an ox or bullock that hath horns and hoofs."
Nor is this all; recalling the ancient usage to
which we have alluded, he imagines himself repeating the vow of the Hebrew
bond-servant, and standing meekly and voluntarily at God's door, while
his ear is bored to it forever. Henceforth he may almost cry with the Apostle,
"From henceforth let no man trouble me; for I bear branded on my body the
marks of Jesus." "Mine ears hast thou bored." "Truly I am thy servant,
thou hast loosed my bonds."
We need not wonder at the glad outburst which succeeds
(ver. io). As with emphatic and repeated phrase the Psalmist avows his
intention of telling the great congregation his discoveries of the love
of God, we can well understand the reason of his exultation. There is no
life so free as that which has escaped all other masters in becoming the
bond-slave of Jesus. There is no nature so exuberant with joy and peace
unspeakable as that which has felt the stab of the awl, has been tinged
with the blood of self-sacrifice for his dear sake, and has passed through
the open doorway to go out nevermore. There is no rest so unutterable as
that which knows no further care; since all care has been once and forever
laid on him who can alone bear the pressure of sorrow and sin, responsibility
and need.
APPROPRIATED BY THE LORD JESUS. In his incarnation
our blessed Lord has realized all the noblest aspirations and assertions
which had ever been spoken by the lips of his most illustrious saints.
The very words used by them can, therefore, be literally appropriated by
him, without exaggeration, save where they falter with the broken confessions
of sin and mortal weakness. Amongst others, when he came into the world,
he could take up those olden words of the Fortieth Psalm, and, through
them, fulfill the meaning of the ancient Hebrew custom.
The sacrifices of Leviticus had served a very necessary
purpose in familiarizing men with the thoughts of God as to the true aspect
in which our Saviour's death was to be viewed; but it was evident that
they could not exhaust his idea, or fill up the measure of his redeeming
purpose. His will went far beyond them all, and, therefore, they could
not be other than incomplete; and, on account of their very incompleteness,
they needed incessant repetition; and even then, though repeated for centuries,
they could not accomplish the purposes on which the divine nature was set.
As well fill up the ocean with cartloads of soil, as accomplish the measure
of God's will by the blood of bulls and goats.
But when Jesus came into the world he at once set
himself to accomplish that holy will. This was his constant cry: "Lo, I
come to do thy will, 0 God! "And he not only essayed to do God's will in
every minute particular and detail of his life, but especially where it
touched the removal of sin, the redemption of men, the sanctification and
perfecting of those who believe. It was to accomplish God's will in these
respects that the Saviour died on the cross. And it is because he perfectly
succeeded, cutting out the entire pattern of the divine mind in the cloth
of his obedience, that the ineffective sacrifices of Judaism have been
put an end to; whilst his own sacrifice has not required the addition of
a single sigh or tear or hour of darkness or thrill of agony. By the offering
of his body once for all we have been sanctified, i.e., our
judicial standing before God is completely satisfactory. And by one offering
he bath perfected forever them that are being sanctified, i.e.,
he has accomplished all the objective work of our redemption in such wise
as that in him we stand before God as accepted saints, though much more
has yet to be done in our subjective inward experience (Heb. x. 10, 14).
The entire submission of our Lord to his Father's
will comes out very sweetly in a slight change here made in quoting the
ancient Psalm. It may be that some older version, or various reading, is
given, with the sanction of the divine Spirit. Instead of saying "Mine
ear hast thou opened," the Lord is represented as saying, "A body hast
thou prepared for me." In point of fact, though the ear carried the body
with it, because it is notoriously difficult to move hand or foot so long
as the ear is a captive, yet the Hebrew slave only gave his ear to the
piercing awl in token of his surrender. But our Lord Jesus gave, not his
ear only, but his whole body, in every faculty and power. He held nothing
back, but yielded to God the Father the entirety of that body which was
prepared for him by the Holy Ghost in the mystery of the holy incarnation.
Ah! blessed is our lot, that God's holy redemptive purpose has been so
utterly and so efficiently fulfilled, through the offering of that body
once for all nailed, not to the doorpost, but to the cross.
APPLICABLE TO OURSELVES. There is a strong demand
amongst God's people in the present day for that "more abundant life" which
the Good Shepherd came to bestow. Out of this demand is springing a mighty
movement, which if it obey the following rules and conditions, will surely
be a blessing to the Church.
It must be natural. The saintliness
that cannot romp and laugh with little children, and looks askance on the
great movements in the world around, and shuts itself up in cloistered
seclusion, is not the ideal of Jesus Christ, who watched the children playing
in the market places, and called them to his arms, and mingled freely at
the dinner-tables of the rich. It is easier, perhaps, than his, but it
is a profound mistake to suppose that it will satisfy his heart. No; the
saintliness of the true saint must find its home in the ordinary homes
and haunts of men.
It must be humble. Directly a man
begins to boast of what he has attained, you may be sure that he makes
up in talk for what he lacks in vital experience. The tone with which some
speak of perfection indicates how far they are from it. To brag of sinlessness
is to yield to pride, the worst of sins. No face truly shines so long as
its owner wists it. No heart is childlike which is conscious of itself.
It must lay stress on the objective side of
Christ's work. There must be introspection for the detection and
removal of anything that lies between the soul and God; just as there must
be sometimes a discharge of gunpowder to dislodge the accumulated soot
of a foul chimney. But when the necessary work of introspection and confession
is over, there should be an instant return to God, with the devout outlook
of the soul on the person and work of the Lord Jesus. We must never encourage
the introspection, except with the view of a more uninterrupted vision
of Jesus.
If these three conditions are complied with, the
movement now afoot cannot but be fraught with blessing to the universal
Church; and it will probably have the effect of leading multitudes to pass
through an experience like that indicated in the Psalm. Previously they
may have acted merely from a sense of legalism and duty, giving sacrifices
and offerings as appointed by the law. But from the glad hour that they
realize all the claims of Jesus on their emancipated and surrendered natures,
they will exclaim, "We love our Master; we will not go out free; bore our
ears to his door, that we may serve him forever; we delight to do his will;
his law is within our hearts; we are eager to do all things written in
the roll of the book of his will."
Have you ever uttered words like these? Has your
life been only a monotonous round of unavoidable service, of which the
key-word has been "must"? Alas! you have not as yet tasted how easy is
his yoke, how light his burden. But if only from this moment you would
open your whole heart to the work of the Holy Spirit, yielding fully to
him, he would shed the love of God abroad within you, kindling your love
to him; and, at once, you would do from love what you have done from law:
you would be so knit to Christ that you would not be free from him, even
though you could do without him; you would have forever the scar of the
slavery of Jesus wrought into your very nature.
There is nothing in the world that gives so much
rest to the soul as to do the will of God; whether it speaks on the page
of Scripture, or through the inspirations of the Holy Spirit within the
shrine of the heart, or in the daily routine of ordinary or extraordinary
Providence. If only we could always say, "I delight to do thy will; I come,
I come!" if only we could offer up to God, as Jesus did, the bodies which
he has prepared for us, though to the very bitterness of the cross, if
only we were as intent on finishing the work given us to do by him, as
men are in achieving the ends of personal ambition: then the spirit of
heaven, where the will of God is done, would engird our barren, weary lives,
as the Gulf Stream some wintry shore, dispelling the frost and mantling
the soil with flowers of fairest texture and fruits of Paradise. Do not
try to feel the will of God: will it, choose it, obey it; and as time goes
on, what you commenced by choosing you will end by loving with ardent and
even vehement affection.