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2 Samuel
Chapter Twelve
2 Samuel 12
Chapter Contents
Nathan's parable-David confesses his sin. (1-14) The
birth of Solomon. (15-25) David's severity to the Ammonites. (26-31)
Commentary on 2 Samuel 12:1-14
(Read 2 Samuel 12:1-14)
God will not suffer his people to lie still in sin. By
this parable Nathan drew from David a sentence against himself. Great need
there is of prudence in giving reproofs. In his application, he was faithful.
He says in plain terms, Thou art the man. God shows how much he hates sin, even
in his own people; and wherever he finds it, he will not let it go unpunished.
David says not a word to excuse himself or make light of his sin, but freely
owns it. When David said, I have sinned, and Nathan perceived that he was a
true penitent, he assured him his sin was forgiven. Thou shalt not die: that
is, not die eternally, nor be for ever put away from God, as thou wouldest have
been, if thou hadst not put away the sin. Though thou shalt all thy days be
chastened of the Lord, yet thou shalt not be condemned with the world. There is
this great evil in the sins of those who profess religion and relation to God,
that they furnish the enemies of God and religion with matter for reproach and
blasphemy. And it appears from David's case, that even where pardon is
obtained, the Lord will visit the transgression of his people with the rod, and
their iniquity with stripes. For one momentary gratification of a vile lust,
David had to endure many days and years of extreme distress.
Commentary on 2 Samuel 12:15-25
(Read 2 Samuel 12:15-25)
David now penned the 51st Psalm, in which, though he had
been assured that his sin was pardoned, he prays earnestly for pardon, and
greatly laments his sin. He was willing to bear the shame of it, to have it
ever before him, to be continually upbraided with it. God gives us leave to be
earnest with him in prayer for particular blessings, from trust in his power
and general mercy, though we have no particular promise to build upon. David
patiently submitted to the will of God in the death of one child, and God made
up the loss to his advantage, in the birth of another. The way to have creature
comforts continued or restored, or the loss made up some other way, is
cheerfully to resign them to God. God, by his grace, particularly owned and
favoured that son, and ordered him to be called Jedidiah, Beloved of the Lord.
Our prayers for our children are graciously and as fully answered when some of
them die in their infancy, for they are well taken care of, and when others live,
"beloved of the Lord."
Commentary on 2 Samuel 12:26-31
(Read 2 Samuel 12:26-31)
To be thus severe in putting the children of Ammon to
slavery was a sign that David's heart was not yet made soft by repentance, at
the time when this took place. We shall be most compassionate, kind, and
forgiving to others, when we most feel our need of the Lord's forgiving love,
and taste the sweetness of it in our own souls.
── Matthew Henry《Concise Commentary on 2 Samuel》
2 Samuel 12
Verse 1
[1] And
the LORD sent Nathan unto David. And he came unto him, and said unto him, There
were two men in one city; the one rich, and the other poor.
The Lord sent —
When the ordinary means did not awaken David to repentance, God takes an
extraordinary course. Thus the merciful God pities and prevents him who had so
horribly forsaken God.
He said — He
prudently ushers in his reproof with a parable, after the manner of the eastern
nations, that so he might surprize David, and cause him unawares to give
sentence against himself.
Verse 2
[2] The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds:
Many flocks —
Noting David's many wives and concubines.
Verse 3
[3] But
the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe lamb, which he had bought and
nourished up: and it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did
eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was
unto him as a daughter.
Bought — As
men then used to buy their wives: or, had procured.
Verse 5
[5] And
David's anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to Nathan, As
the LORD liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die:
Is worthy to die —
This seems to be more than the fact deserved, or than he had commission to
inflict for it, Exodus 22:1. But it is observable, that David
now when he was most indulgent to himself, and to his own sin, was most severe
and even unjust to others; as appears by this passage, and the following
relation, verse 31, which was done in the time of David's
impenitent continuance in his sin.
Verse 7
[7] And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. Thus saith the LORD God of
Israel, I anointed thee king over Israel, and I delivered thee out of the hand
of Saul;
Thus saith the Lord God — Nathan now speaks, not as a petitioner for a poor man, but as an
ambassador from the great God.
Verse 9
[9] Wherefore
hast thou despised the commandment of the LORD, to do evil in his sight? thou
hast killed Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and hast taken his wife to be thy
wife, and hast slain him with the sword of the children of Ammon.
To be thy wife — To
marry her whom he had defiled, and whose husband he had slain, was an affront
upon the ordinance of marriage, making that not only to palliate, but in a
manner to consecrate such villainies. In all this he despised the word of the
Lord; (so it is in the Hebrew.) Not only his commandment in general, but the
particular word of promise, which God had before sent him by Nathan, that he
would build him an house: which sacred promise if he had had a due value for,
he would not have polluted his house with lust and blood.
Verse 10
[10] Now
therefore the sword shall never depart from thine house; because thou hast
despised me, and hast taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be thy wife.
Never depart —
During the residue of thy life.
Verse 11
[11] Thus
saith the LORD, Behold, I will raise up evil against thee out of thine own
house, and I will take thy wives before thine eyes, and give them unto thy
neighbour, and he shall lie with thy wives in the sight of this sun.
Own house —
From thy own children and family.
Thine eyes —
Openly, so that thou shalt know it as certainly as if thou didst see it, and
yet not be able to hinder it.
And give them — I
shall by my providence, give him power over them.
Neighbor — To
one who is very near thee. But God expresseth this darkly, that the
accomplishment of it might not be hindered.
Verse 13
[13] And
David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the LORD. And Nathan said unto
David, The LORD also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.
I have sinned —
How serious this confession was, we may see, Psalms 51:1-19.
Put away thy sin —
That is, so far as concerns thy own life.
Not die — As
by thy own sentence, verse 5, thou dost deserve, and may expect to be done
by my immediate stroke.
Verse 16
[16]
David therefore besought God for the child; and David fasted, and went in, and
lay all night upon the earth.
Besought —
Supposing the threatening might be conditional, and so the execution of it
prevented by prayer.
Went —
Into his closet.
Verse 17
[17] And
the elders of his house arose, and went to him, to raise him up from the earth:
but he would not, neither did he eat bread with them.
Elders —
The chief officers of his kingdom and household.
He would not —
This excessive mourning did not proceed simply from the fear of the loss of the
child; but from a deep sense of his sin, and the divine displeasure manifested
herein.
Verse 18
[18] And
it came to pass on the seventh day, that the child died. And the servants of
David feared to tell him that the child was dead: for they said, Behold, while
the child was yet alive, we spake unto him, and he would not hearken unto our
voice: how will he then vex himself, if we tell him that the child is dead?
Seventh day —
From the beginning of the distemper.
Verse 20
[20] Then
David arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed himself, and changed his
apparel, and came into the house of the LORD, and worshipped: then he came to
his own house; and when he required, they set bread before him, and he did eat.
And came —
That is, to the tabernacle, to confess his sin before the Lord, to own his
justice in this stroke, to deprecate his just displeasure, to acknowledge God's
rich mercy, in sparing his own life; and to offer such sacrifices as were
required in such cases.
Verse 23
[23] But
now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go
to him, but he shall not return to me.
I fast —
Seeing fasting and prayer cannot now prevail with God for his life.
I shall go to him —
Into the state of the dead in which he is, and into heaven, where I doubt not I
shall find him.
Verse 24
[24] And
David comforted Bathsheba his wife, and went in unto her, and lay with her: and
she bare a son, and he called his name Solomon: and the LORD loved him.
His wife —
Who was now much dejected, both for her former sin, and for the loss of the
child.
Loved him —
That is, the Lord declared to David, that he loved his son, notwithstanding the
just cause David had given to God to alienate his affections from him.
Verse 25
[25] And
he sent by the hand of Nathan the prophet; and he called his name Jedidiah,
because of the LORD.
Jedidiah —
That is, beloved of the Lord.
Because —
Either, because of the Lord's love to him, or because the Lord commanded him to
do so.
Verse 26
[26] And
Joab fought against Rabbah of the children of Ammon, and took the royal city.
Royal city —
That is, that part of the city where was the king's palace; though now it seems
he was retired to a strong fort.
Verse 27
[27] And
Joab sent messengers to David, and said, I have fought against Rabbah, and have
taken the city of waters.
Of waters —
Rabbah was so called because it was encompassed with water.
Verse 28
[28] Now
therefore gather the rest of the people together, and encamp against the city,
and take it: lest I take the city, and it be called after my name.
Take it —
For having taken one part of the city, he concluded the remaining part of it
could not long stand out.
Lest —
Lest I have the honour of taking it.
Verse 30
[30] And
he took their king's crown from off his head, the weight whereof was a talent
of gold with the precious stones: and it was set on David's head. And he
brought forth the spoil of the city in great abundance.
The weight — Or
rather, the price whereof, etc. For the same words both in Hebrew, Greek and
Latin, are used, to signify either weight, or price. And the addition of
precious stones, which are never valued by the weight of gold, makes this
signification most probable. Moreover, the weight might seem too great either
for the king of Ammon, or for David to wear it upon his head.
Verse 31
[31] And
he brought forth the people that were therein, and put them under saws, and
under harrows of iron, and under axes of iron, and made them pass through the
brickkiln: and thus did he unto all the cities of the children of Ammon. So
David and all the people returned unto Jerusalem.
The people —
The words are indefinite, and therefore not necessarily to be understood of all
the people; but of the men of war, and especially of those who had been the
chief actors of that villainous action against David's ambassadors, and of the
dreadful war ensuing upon it; for which, they deserved severe punishments. Altho'
indeed there seems to have been too much rigour used; especially, because these
deaths were inflicted not only upon those counsellors, who were the only
authors of that vile usage of the ambassadors; but upon some number of the
people. And therefore it is probable, David exercised this cruelty whilst his
heart was hardened, and impenitent; and when he was bereaved of that good
spirit of God, which would have taught him more mercy.
Saws — He
sawed them to death of which punishment, we have examples both in scripture,
and in other authors.
Brick-kiln —
Or, made them to pass through the furnace of Malchen: that is, of Moloch;
punishing them with their own sin, and with the same kind of punishment which
they had inflicted upon their own children.
── John Wesley《Explanatory Notes on 2
Samuel》
"NATHAN'S REBUKE"
2 Samuel 12:1-15
INTRODUCTION
1. Many are familiar with David's sin involving Bathsheba, resulting in
adultery and murder
2. Though these were dark pages in David's record, they were preserved
that lessons might be learned by those who followed after - cf. 1 Co
10:11-12
3. There are lessons to be learned, not only from David's mistakes, but
from the rebuke that Nathan gave to David because of his sin
4. Found in 2 Sam 12:1-15, Nathan's rebuke will serve as the basis for
our study today (READ)
[Among the lessons that might be gleaned from "Nathan's Rebuke" is
this one...]
I. WE ARE OFTEN BLIND TO OUR OWN FAULTS
A. IN THE CASE OF DAVID...
1. He could easily see the sin in the man of Nathan's story
- 2 Sam 12:5-6
2. But not in himself; it took a direct accusation ("You are the man!") by Nathan - 2 Sam 12:7a
B. IN OUR CASE, THIS IS OFTEN TRUE...
1. We can easily see the "mote" in another person's eye, but not
the "beam" in our own
2. There are several reasons why this may be so
a. We may let strong desires confuse the plain distinction
between right and wrong
1) E.g., many have softened their views on divorce and
remarriage when it hits their family
2) Therefore changing our convictions on a position when it
hits close to home
b. We may habitually flirt with evil, diminishing our sense of
it as evil
1) E.g., accepting the world's definition of immodesty in
regards to apparel
2) Therefore the standards of the world soon become our
standards
c. We may refuse to apply principles of scripture to the moral
nature of our personal conduct
1) E.g., whether or not certain habits are consistent with
the Christian life
2) Therefore behaving in a way more becoming a person of
the world, than one who is a child of God!
C. BECAUSE WE ARE OFTEN BLIND TO OUR OWN FAULTS...
1. We need to be thankful for friends like Nathan
a. Caring enough to bring our faults to our attention
b. Courageous enough to challenge our conduct
2. We need to be like David
a. Open to the constructive criticism of others
b. Not so blind as to fail to see our faults when pointed out
by others
[Another valuable lesson from "Nathan's Rebuke" is that we learn...]
II. THE BEST WAY TO BRING ABOUT REPENTANCE
A. APPEAL TO GOD'S LOVE...
1. Nathan reminded David of God's great kindness - 2 Sam 12:7-8
2. This appeal based upon God's love and mercy is found in the
preaching of the gospel
a. Paul made it in Ro 2:4
b. Likewise Peter in Ac 10:34-36,42-43
-- In our own efforts to save or restore others, let's be sure
make the same appeal to God's love!
B. REVEAL THE SIN...
1. Nathan was very clear in telling David what he did was wrong
- 2 Sam 12:9
2. In a similar way, the gospel makes it clear that all are
sinners - cf. Ro 3:23
-- Since people will not repent unless they realize they are
sinners, it is necessary to help them see their sins (with the
right attitude, of course)
C. WARN OF THE CONSEQUENCES...
1. Nathan spelled out what would happen because of David's sin
- 2 Sam 12:10-12
2. The gospel, while it contains "good news", is no different
- cf. Mk 16:15-16; Ro 2:5-11
-- As we seek to call others to repentance, we must in love and
great solemnity point out the consequences of sin!
[As we continue our examination of "Nathan's Rebuke", we now see...]
III. THE PROPER ATTITUDE IN REPENTANCE
A. DAVID PROVIDES THE PROPER EXAMPLE...
1. He made it PERSONAL - "_I_ have sinned..." - 2 Sam 12:13
a. He didn't try to place the blame on Bathsheba or the
circumstances
b. He didn't try to spread the guilt to others (e.g., Joab's
involvement in the death of Uriah)
-- He accepted the full responsibility of his own sin!
2. He saw the true nature of his guilt: it was "...against the
_LORD_" - 2 Sam 12:13
a. It is true that he also sinned against Bathsheba, Uriah,
his own wife, etc.
1) But true penitence comes from an understanding that sin
is more just a violation of HUMAN relationships
2) It is an affront against the GOD who created us in His
image!
b. Notice, then, what David wrote in Ps 51:3-4 as he
confesses his sin...
1) "Against You, You only, have I sinned..."
2) With poetic hyperbole, he confesses his sin against God
as well!
B. MUCH REPENTANCE TODAY FALLS SHORT IN THIS REGARD...
1. We often don't make our sins PERSONAL enough
a. We may be quick to admit "We have sinned"
b. But will we also be quick to admit "I have sinned"?
2. We often don't think of how our sins are AGAINST THE LORD
a. Unless we do, our repentance is likely to be shallow
b. I.e., our conduct will change just enough to satisfy the
approval of man
c. E.g., someone who needs to repent for forsaking the
assembly...
1) We often say they have "sinned against the church";
while true, they need to appreciate that in fact they
have "sinned against the Lord"!
2) If they view themselves as only having sinned against
the church...
a) They may only be concerned about being faithful in
the eyes of the church
b) Thus correcting only their conduct as the church sees
them
3) But if they view themselves as having sinned against the
Lord...
a) They will be concerned with being faithful in His
eyes
b) Thus correcting any conduct visible only to the Lord!
[Our next observation may be the most encouraging one gleaned from
"Nathan's Rebuke"...]
IV. THE PARDON PROVIDED BY GOD
A. THE EXAMPLE OF DAVID'S FORGIVENESS...
1. His forgiveness was IMMEDIATE - cf. 2 Sam 12:13
a. That is, when the proper conditions were met
b. In his case, the confession of his sin
2. His forgiveness was COMPLETE - cf. 2 Sam 12:13
a. Nathan said "The LORD also has put away your sin"
b. The phrase "put away" is similar to other terms suggesting
a complete forgiveness of sin: "covered", blotted out",
"remembered no more"
B. GOD'S PARDON IS SIMILAR TODAY...
1. It is both IMMEDIATE and COMPLETE
2. But there are conditions that must be met
a. For the non-Christian - cf. Jn 8:24; Ac 2:38; 22:16
b. For the Christian - cf. 1 Jn 1:9; Ac 8:22
3. Such wonderful pardon is made possible only through the blood
of Christ! - Ep 1:7
[Our final observation may be the most sobering one to contemplate...]
V. CONSEQUENCES OF SIN OFTEN FOLLOW DESPITE PARDON
A. DAVID LEARNED THIS FROM NATHAN...
1. Though he was forgiven of his sin, there would still be
consequences of his sin
2. Nathan listed them in 2 Sam 12:10-12,14; all of which came to
pass:
a. The baby died
b. David's daughter (Tamar) raped by her half-brother (Amnon)
c. One son (Amnon) killed by another (Absalom)
d. One son (Absalom) leads a conspiracy, takes over the
kingdom, lays with his father's concubines, and is finally
killed
B. THE SAME IS OFTEN TRUE TODAY...
1. An alcoholic may quit drinking and be forgiven, but still
suffer the physical consequences of alcoholism
2. A parent may obey the gospel, but do so too late to have a
positive affect on the spiritual development of the children
3. A young person may "sow their wild oats" before settling down
and becoming a Christian...
a. While forgiven, they may still have to "reap what they have
sown"
b. E.g., the rest of their lives being adversely affected by
such things as:
1) An unexpected pregnancy (an early or unwanted marriage)
2) An unscriptural divorce (not free to remarry)
3) A moment of passion (suffering with incurable STDs)
4) Experimenting with drugs (irreversible brain damage)
-- God's pardon is wonderful, but we must not forget the
consequences of sin!
CONCLUSION
1. Such are the lessons we learn from "Nathan's Rebuke"...
a. We are often blind to our own faults
b. The best way to bring about repentance
c. The proper attitude in repentance
d. The pardon provided by God
e. Consequences of sin often follow despite pardon
2. As with much of the events recorded in the Scriptures...
a. There are lessons to help us in our own relationship with God
b. There are lessons to help us be of service to others regarding
their relationship with God
May we be wise enough to heed the counsel of "Nathan's Rebuke"!
－－《Executable
Outlines》
12 Chapter 12
Verses 1-12
Verses 1-14
2 Samuel 12:1-14
And the Lord sent Nathan unto David.
Nathan reproving David
I. David’s sin.
David, it appears, to avenge the outrage which bad been perpetrated on his
ambassadors by Hanun, the king of the Ammonites, invaded that king’s dominions,
and, in two pitched battles, defeated both him and his allies with great
slaughter. In the following year, as soon as the season permitted, David
renewed the war, and followed up his successes still further by sending Joab,
and all Israel with him, to lay siege to the royal city of Rabbah, the
metropolis of Hanun’s kingdom. Instead, however, of accompanying his army on
this occasion, according to his usual custom, David unhappily “tarried still at
Jerusalem;” and, whilst there, he appears to have given himself up to a life of
sloth and sinful indulgence. “For it came to pass,” says the sacred historian,
“in an eveningtide, that David arose from off his bed,” where, perhaps, he had
been dozing away the afternoon in idleness, instead of spending it in some
useful occupation, “and walked upon the roof of the king’s house.” From this
elevated position, David saw a woman of great beauty washing herself. But
instead of “turning away his eyes from beholding vanity,” and thus acting the
part of an honourable and a modest man, he allowed lust to gain an entrance
into his heart, and at last to take full possession of it. Oh, such is the
seductive influence, such the tyrannical nature of sin, that, let a man give it
but the least encouragement, and it is sure to lead him on, step by step,
almost imperceptibly, till at last it compels him, whether he wills or not, to
do its bidding. Do you, then, take the advice of a friend, and have nothing to
do with “the accursed thing.” Leave it off, before it be meddled with. For now,
mark the next step in his downward career. He sent and inquired after the
woman. And although he was plainly told that she was already a married woman;
the wife, too, of one of his own best and ablest generals, Uriah the Hittite,
and who was actually, at that very moment, jeopardising his own life in the
high places of the field to sustain the safety and honour of David’s crown; yet
such was the hold which sin had now taken of him that he persisted in sending
for her, and at last, after a brief interview, persuades her to forsake the
guide of her youth, and to forget the covenant of her God. Oh, who could have
thought that David, the mall after God’s own heart, would ever have been guilty
of such a crime as this. Little did David think, when he was committing this
shocking crime, that his sin would so soon find him out. But so it was; for scarcely
had a few months rolled by before Bathsheba perceived that she could no longer
conceal her disgrace, and consequently she sends to David, acquainting him with
her situation, and in all probability, reminding him of his promise to protect
her; for, according to the law of Moses, the adulterer and the adulteress were,
both to be put to death. And now, what is to be done? The same evil spirit that
prompted him to commit the crime soon suggests a plan for concealing it.
II. What were the
means which God took to awaken David to a sense of his wickedness and danger?
Did He raise up enemies round about him to lay waste his country and destroy
his people? or did He rain down fire and brimstone from heaven, as He once did
upon the guilty cities of the plain, in order that He might sweep this wretched
monarch from off the earth? Or did He send terrors to take hold of him, and the
messengers ,of death to arrest him? No; He sent to him one of his own humble
and faithful ministers, in order that he might reason the matter over with him,
call his sin to remembrance, and convince him of his guilt. For nearly two full
years David appears to have thought nothing more about Uriah. Perhaps he may
have thought that, as he had since married the widow, he had made nil the reparation
that was required of him. Or he may have supposed that as no other person
beside himself was privy to the part which he had taken in Uriah’s death, there
was no use troubling himself further about the matter. If so, David was greatly
mistaken. Yes, there was One Witness to the whole transaction, whom David seems
to have lost sight of altogether.
III. What effect
God’s message produced on David. Did he fly into a rage with the man of God for
thus faithfully discharging his duty? Did he exclaim, with an outburst of angry
passion, “Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?” Or did be call to the governor of
the city, and say unto him, “Take this fellow away, and put him in the prison,
and feed him with bread of affliction and water of affliction?” Or did he, like
his father Adam, try to shift the blame from himself, and lay it upon the
woman? David was so horrified at the picture which Nathan had drawn of his own
conduct, and so convinced of its truth, that he exclaimed without a moment’s
hesitation, “I have sinned against the Lord.”
IV. What lessons we
ourselves may gather up from the contemplation of this painful subject.
1. In the first place, then, we may learn that there is no sin beyond
the reach of God’s mercy.
2. And, lastly, let no notorious sinner be emboldened, from David’s
unhappy fall, to presume on God’s mercy. Let such a one remember that David’s
sin was committed but once: he was no habitual transgressor. (E. Harper, B.
A.)
Nathan sent to David
I. When?
1. When he had fallen into grievous sin--such sin as, we might well
suppose, if we did not know how “deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked” is the human heart, he would have been incapable of committing.
2. When he was blind, and insensible to his sin. And I think this is
something more surprising than even the sin itself. It seems to prove more
convincingly the deep depravity of our nature. It is the stamp of a lower
humiliation.
II. Wherefore? What
was the object of his mission?
1. What might have been expected? Why, surely, that it would be to
declare the Divine displeasure--to announce God’s sentence of condemnation
against the royal transgressor--to warn him of approaching retribution--to tell
him that he had sinned beyond the hope of mercy, and the possibility of
restoration, and that there was nothing for him now but a prospect of
changeless despair. Gracious and longsuffering as the Lord is, as He is always
declared to be in His Word; much as He delights in messages of mercy to His
creatures, there have not been wanting in the history of mankind instances of
the other kind.
2. But no: it was not as a herald of vengeance that Nathan was sent
to David, but as a reprover and convincer of sin, to bring him to repentance,
by showing him the baseness of his conduct, the aggravation of his crimes, and
the danger to which they had justly exposed him.
III. With what
result?
I. 1 answer,
first, with but a more startling illustration of the blinding power of sin. We
might have thought that, with his ordinarily quick apprehension, David would
have perceived at once the point and force of Nathan’s parable. We should have
looked for an immediate self-application of it, and the proper effect thereof;
but in doing so, we should only have miscalculated the influence of sinful
indulgence in blunting the faculty of moral perception, and deadening all the
sensibilities of the soul.
2. The bringing him to a sincere acknowledgment of his offence. This
only followed, however, Upon the prophet’s faithful home-thrust--“Thou art the
man!” ‘This story concerns thee. It needs but to put in the name, and it is
then a narration of thy own guilty and heartless conduct towards thy faithful
servant Uriah. Thus hast thou sinned against thy unoffending neighbour. Oh!
wicked king, there is no excuse for thee.’ And then David saw himself as the
prophet saw him; as, at that moment, God saw him.
3. The leading him to an experience of God’s pardoning grace. For no
sooner had David acknowledged his sin, taken to himself the blame of his guilty
acts, and prostrated himself a weeping penitent at God’s footstool, than the
prophet was commissioned to absolve him from his offences by a declaration of
the Divine forgiveness. “A God ready to pardon.” That is one of the names given
to the Lord in the Bible. Was there ever a completer illustration of it than is
here supplied? (C. Merry.)
David’s fall
I. The peril of
self-indulgence. The heart-rotted tree may stand long in the golden light and
summer calm, and crowned with some garniture of green its true condition be
unguessed. But let the stormy wind blow and beat upon it, and quickly it will
fall. For many years David hail been “like a tree planted by the rivers of
water than bringeth forth his fruit in his season.” He had stood many a blast
of temptation unroofed, the more deeply rooted. But self-indulgence, like a
permitted rot, had slowly, insidiously, wrought ruin within him, and the
strength of his soul became weakness and succumbed to sudden tempestuous
temptation. There is ever a sad though secret preparation for such a fall as
David’s. There is an inner before an outer fall.
II. The imperative
importance of watchfulness. Surely, if any man could have dispensed with
watchfulness David was the man. And yet he--patriarch, prophet, saint--fell
into the defiling pool of sensuality. We have watchful against us a malignant
and pitiless enemy. He has no reverence for the silvered head; for the honour
that has gathered to the hoar-haired believer. We need all--and the aged saint,
too--to watch against him. We need well to know ourselves. Our physical and
mental temperament may expose us to special dangers. Our very excellencies may
become our snares. We must watch over them. We dare not glory in them.
III. The dreadful
connection of sin with sin. If David had made a covenant with his eyes he had
not looked. But he looked, and the look was sin. And that one sin opened the
way for many. To lust he added craft, to craft treason, to treason murder. And
this is David! “Lord, what is man?” No sin stands alone. Admit one, a whole
brood presses urgent, irresistible upon its heels. It is the “little rift” that
widens till the music of a holy life is mute. It is the “little pitted speck”
that, rotting inwards, slowly spoils the fruit of useful character. Lie darkens
into lies. The one theft into another. David’s one sin into many.
IV. The awful
possibilities of self-deception. For mouths, for a year, David went on
unconscious of his guilt. How blinding is self-partiality! “It is really
prodigious,” as Bishop Butler says, “to see a man, before so remarkable for
virtue and piety, going on deliberately from adultery to murder with the same
cool contrivance, and, from what appears, with as little disturbance, as a man
would endeavour to prevent the ill consequences of a mistake he had made in any
common matter. That total insensibility of mind with respect to those horrid
crimes, after the commission of them, manifestly shows that he did some way or
other delude himself, and this could not be with respect to the crimes
themselves, they were so manifestly of the grossest kind.” Oh, the
possibilities of self-deception! The liar may appear true, the dishonest
honest, the vile pure. So for awhile; but not for long. The day of
self-revelation is at hand. “There is nothing covered that shall not be
revealed, neither hid that shall not be known.”
V. The blessedness
of true repentance. “The Lord sent Nathan unto David.” By a touching apologue
the wise prophet drew David to pass unconscious verdict upon himself.
VI. The irrevocable
character of a sinful deed. David was forgiven. But he could not escape the
bitter temporal fruit of his sin. To life’s very end it was as gravel in his
teeth, as acrid ashes in his mouth. A sinful deed may be pardoned; but it
cannot be recalled, and on it will go its desolating way. No tears of David
could wash away the guilty past. Dad deeds live when the doer is dead. This
Sill of David has caused from age to age the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme.
“Stand in awe and sin not.” “The lust, when it hath conceived, beareth sin; and
the sin, when it is full grown, bringeth forth death.” (G. T. Coster.)
David’s sin and Nathan’s parable
I. The occasion
upon which the monarch disgraced himself. II, the utterance of the parable. The
touching beauty of this little apologue cannot be passed carelessly by.
Its appeal forces its way to the most sensitive centres of our feeling. But the
general shrewdness of its conception is heightened by the fact that it entered
at once into the historic experience of this king. He knew what it was to be
poor; he knew what it was to have and to love one little ewe-lamb. And when
Nathan told him that the rich, mean neighbour had stolen and killed the
creature which the poor man cherished in his bosom as a daughter his anger was
at its height.
III. The explication
of his skilful parable was instantaneous: “And Nathan said to David, Thou art
the man.” The king must have been startled beyond all power of self-control.
How rapid was the transition of feeling through which he passed! One minute he
was on his feet in all the flush of indignation at another’s sin, fairly
exulting in the proud sense of unutterable contempt at injustice so apparent
and so unmitigated in its foul stroke. The next minute he perceived the
countenance of Nathan changing towards him. Around came that long scornful
finger, which had been pointing at an imaginary offender; and now in reply to
the implied inquiry for that offender’s name, its index slowly reached his own
face, and then the sober words were spoken: “Thou art the man.” Could his
discomfiture have been more complete? Could Nathan’s triumph of rebuke have
been more successful?
IV. lessons of
present instruction from this parable. Sin levels the loftiest man to the
lowest rank. Zeal for God lifts the lowliest man into a vantage unquestioned.
1. Observe, then, that in all cases conscience is the arbiter in the
wrong, and must be the centre of aim in the reproof.
2. Observe, that absolute rectitude is the only standard to be
admitted in all processes of rebuke.
3. In the third place, observe that tenderness is the dominant spirit
in all truly Scriptural, or even successful, rebuke.
4. Observe, in the fourth place, that courageous fidelity is the
measure of all Christian duty in administering rebuke. Are we up to this
standard in helping each other? Has not the day of honest fraternal rebuke
pretty much passed by? And are we not ourselves to blame for many of those
detections to the common cause which make such sudden scandal? Another
question, quite akin to this, is likewise suggested by this theme: What ought
to be expected of every faithful ministry in a time like that we live in? Is
there any sin so peculiarly delicate that the messenger of God is debarred from
saying, “Thou art the man?” (C. S. Robinson, D. D.)
The parable of Nathan
The introduction to the parable must not be overlooked, for in it
we are taught that the first step to repentance springs from the Divine favour.
“The Lord sent Nathan.” The man who has fallen into a pit and broken his limbs
must have help from without. It is useless for him to talk of climbing out
unaided, somebody must come and lift him out and place him again upon the spot
from which he fell. The first step towards recovery must come from above him.
In considering the parable itself, notice:--
I. The analogy and
contrast which it sets forth as existing between David and Uriah.
1. The analogy.
2. The parable also sets forth the contrast in the two men--“the one
rich and the other poor.”
II. The effect of
the parable and its application upon David.
1. It awakened strong emotion: “David’s anger was greatly kindled
against the man.” (v. 5.) This effect was the result of looking at the crime
from a distance.
2. It revealed great self-ignorance. The knowledge most indispensable
in life is self-knowledge; a man who does not possess this is an ignorant man,
whatever are his other requirements. Knowledge is said to be power, and the
knowledge of oneself is the greatest power.
3. But the effect of the application of the parable is a remarkable
illustration of the power of conscience. Some men do everything upon a large
scale. Their emotions are deep, their sins are great, and so are their virtues.
The captain of a vessel of large dimensions which carries a rich cargo, has a
heavier weight of responsibility than he has who has only the charge of a small
craft. If he pilot the vessel safely into harbour he has the more honour, but
if she gets wrecked the disaster makes a deeper impression.
III. The effect of
David’s confession upon God. Confession of sin to a human friend against whom
we have offended will often bring an assurance of forgiveness. The good parent
makes it indispensable before the child is restored to its position and favour.
So is it in the government of God. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and
just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (John 1:9.)
1. The path of duty is the path that “leads not into temptation.” If
David had been at the head of his army at this time it is likely that he would
have escaped this dark stain upon his life. A brook is kept pure while it is in
motion, but if its waters were to be stopped from flowing they would become
stagnant.
2. That tendencies to sin, though not on the surface, are yet latent in the depths
of the heart. To the eye of a stranger a powder-vessel may look very trim and
clean and safe, but the black powder is there in the hold, only needing a
single spark to make its awful power felt.
3. Impurities in the springs of thought will be revealed in the
streams of action.
4. Although sin is forgiven, some of its consequences must remain.
“The Lord hath put away thy sin,” but “the sword shall never depart from thine
house.”
5. The parable, and the fact that gave rise to it, lead us to observe--
Awakened and awed
We see here--
I. The man left to
himself. Like other servants of God whose lives are recorded in the Scriptures,
we find David in times of sin withdrawing from communion with God, loving his
own way, hugging his pet sin. David estranged himself from his God, and he soon
sinks lower and lower. Sinful weakness he had been shown before, but this is a
mean, selfish crime. No one withdraws trust from God and prospers. As flowers
live in and by the rays of the sun, so the graces of the soul need the favour
of God. No agony of remorse is so keen as that of the child of God over sinful
pleasures indulged. More helpless than a rudderless vessel in the Maelstrom is
the Christian who abandons himself to serve sin even for a season.
1. David left to himself makes a sorry self indeed. A further
evidence of increasing guilt is the manner of his treatment of the prisoners of
war (v. 31.) It was cruel in the extreme, unnecessarily cruel. So unlike David.
Ah! biting, goading him was that sense of sin which he could not shake off. Ill
at ease, he cares not what suffering he causes. His temper unrestrained, any
savage cruelty is possible. These excitements so eagerly sought only serve to
show the unceasing demands conscience made upon him. Can any man venture to say
David was happy? We are not left to conjecture. Psalms 51:1-19., written twelve months
after his sin, reveals his inmost thoughts at this time (as also Psalms 32:1-11.), and this psalm was
delivered to the chief musician for public use before the sacred history was
written.
2. David is yet in his sin. How dulled his vision, or the parable had
needed no explanatory application! How forcibly this fatal power of sin is
brought home to us, and daily! Illustrations of this deceitfulness of sin
abound. Judges pronounce sentence on poor fallen girls while indulging in the
sin themselves! Workmen pronounce hard, biting sentences upon those who bring
down prices by undue competition, yet go and take the situation offered by the
foreign competitor without a thought of the inconsistency. Nothing blinds like
self-love.
II. The curse
Nathan utters, and chastisement. Former gracious dealings are brought to mind.
There was horsing which God withheld from David. He came to the kingdom when
God saw wise, and with unsparing hand had God dealt out blessing. He had
disregarded the responsibilities which his office brought and despised the
commandment of the Lord!
1. The adaptation of the retribution to the offence is noticeable--a
principle in the moral government of God of which there are many instances in
Scripture. Jacob deceived his father, and his sons deceive him. He cheats his
brother, and is cheated by his uncle Laban. This is remarkably seen in the
after-days of David; and while the form of the chastisement appears arbitrary,
it is not, for it comes by way of natural consequence of the sins itself.
2. “The babe dies.” There was wise reason why it should. That David,
whose parental love was strong, felt this blow keenly the history reveals. He
watched the child die, knowing it would die, knowing it would die because of
him. (H. E. Stone.)
David’s great sin, and God’s greater grace
When Alexander, King of Macedon, and one of the few conquerors of
the world, had his portrait taken, it is said, he sat with his face resting on
his fingers, as though he were in a profound reverie, but really that he might
hide from the observer’s vision an unsightly sear. Our Bible always keeps the
sitter’s finger off the scars. It paints the full face with flawless
detail--beauty and blotches, saintliness and scare, all, and in all. But, after
all, is it not a true human instinct and a healthy canon of art that puts the
finger on the scars of the face? Why perpetuate the: memorials of deformity?
What need to recite the repulsive story of human wrongdoing? Is it not far
saner, as our Emerson maintains, to sing the glories of the good, and sink the
bad; to chant the praises of virtue, and cover vice with the mantle of
concealment? Why should the artist dip his brush in undiluted ugliness, when so
many pictures of finished beauty invite his skill? Surely it is no sign of
force of intellect or kindliness of spirit to explore the warts on a lace
radiant with beneficent expression! Besides, may you not multiply iniquity by
exhibiting it, palliate wrong by disclosing its riotous growths in men of
exceptional holiness, and weaken the yielding spirit in combat with temptation
by supplying excuses for self-indulgent failure, and elastic resistance to
desired defeat? All that depends first, upon the spirit in which the biographer
conceives and carries out his design; and next, and mainly, upon the purpose
which dominates every part of his painting. You may tell a man’s faults for the
mean end of gratifying a prurient and debased curiosity; or to palliate and
excuse a biting sense of personal wrong-doing; or to compel a low and
despairing view of human life; or to give food to a jaundiced and
self-condemned egotism that cannot sit still in the presence of greatness, but
must, perforce, pelt it with any discoverable stones, picked up with facile
fingers out of any mud, by that envy which finds such hospitable entertainment
in most of our minds. But the Hebrew historian’s account of David’s great sin
is at once lifted far away, and beyond the touch of all such criticism, by the
strenuous and insistent moral purpose of the writer, by his clear consciousness
that he is narrating a part of the real, though sad, history of the Kingdom of
God; and so forcing a series of foul and atrocious crimes into the ranks of the
preachers of righteousness, the beneficent angels of warning and rebuke, hope
and courage; the trumpet-tongued heralds of human repentance and Divine
forgiveness, perfected and crowned by merciful renewal and enlargment of soul.
Of sell-examination
Self-examination may be called an arraignment of ourselves at our
own bar, according to that word of our Eucharist Service: “Judge, therefore,
yourselves, brethren, that ye be not judged of the Lord.” It is easy--fatally
easy--with self-examination as with prayer, to allow the exercise to be drawn
down from its high moral and spiritual aim to the level of a form. But while we
continue it, let us strive to throw reality and life into it by regarding the
great duty on a large, comprehensive, and spiritual scale. Consider, first, the
necessity for all of us, in respect both of our sins and of our good works, of
an exercise of like self-examination. This necessity arises from the fact, so
distinctly stated in Scripture, that “the heart is deceitful above all things,”
and that “he that trusteth in his own heart”--in its dictates respecting
himself and his own spiritual condition--“is a fool.” It has pleased God to
illustrate this cardinal truth by two grand examples, one in the Old and one in
the New Testament. It must have been by trust in the subtle evasions and
plausible shifts of his own heart that David, after committing two of the worst
crimes of which our nature is capable, so long contrived to keep his conscience
quiet, but at length was convicted of the desperate folly of severely
condemning in another man the very faults which, in an infinitely aggravated form,
he had been palliating and excusing in himself. And it was by trusting in the
assurances which his heart gave him of his own strong attachment to his Master,
that St. Peter, secure of himself, was betrayed into the weakness and folly of
denying Christ. May we say that, while all characters are liable to the snare
of self-deception, those are more particularly exposed to it who, like St.
Peter and David, are persons of keen sensibilities, warm temperaments, quick
affections? But bow shall we bring home to ourselves the dangerousness of
trusting, without due examination, to the verdict of our own hearts? We will do
so by supposing a parallel ease ins matter, where we are all peculiarly apt to
be cautious and suspicious--the goods of this world. Suppose, then, that the
chief agent in some great speculation is a man wire, though most untrustworthy,
has all the art of conciliating trust. Suppose him to be fluent, fair-spoken,
prepossessing in manners and appearance, and to be especially plausible in
glossing over a financial difficulty. Advance one more step in the hypothesis,
and suppose him to be a private friend of many of those who are embarked with
him in the same speculation; allied to some of them by marriage, and, more or
less, in habits of intimacy with all. If such a person is at the head of
affairs, and entrusted with the administration of the funds contributed by all,
it is evident that he might impose upon the contributors to almost any extent.
Now the peril of such trust in worldly matters supplies a very fair image of
the peril of a still more foolish and groundless trust in spiritual things. Our
hearts are notoriously most untrustworthy informants ill any case where we are
ourselves interested. It is not only Scripture which assevers this. We confess
it ourselves, and re-echo the verdict of Scripture, when we say of any slight
matter, with which we happen to be mixed up, “I am an interested party, and
therefore I had better not be a judge.” What frightful arrears may we be
running up, unawares to ourselves, if we do not sharply check and suspiciously
watch this heart, who administers for us the account between us and God! The
first step in real self-examination is to be fully aware of the deceitfulness
of the heart, and to pray against it, watch against it, and use every possible
method of counteracting it. But what means can we use? We offer a few practical
suggestions in answer to this question.
1. As regards, our acknowledged sins. We must remember that their
hatefulness, and aggravations, if they were publicly confessed, might very
probably be recognised by every one but ourselves, the perpetrators. There are
certain loathsome diseases, which are offensive and repulsive in the highest
degree to every one but the patient. And there is a close analogy between the
spiritual frame of man and his natural; if the moral disease be your
own--rooted in your character, clinging to your own heart, it never can affect
you with the same disgust as if it were another man’s.
2. But the probe of self-examination needs to be applied to the
better, as well as to the worse parts of our conduct. The natural heart is an
adept in flatteries, not only suggesting excuses for the evil, but also
heightening the colours of the good which, by God’s grace, is in us. Where conduct
stands the test of self-examination, the motives of it should be called in
question. We must do in regard of ourselves what we may never do in regard of
others--suspect that an unsound motive may underlie a fair conduct. Certain
proprieties and regularities of behaviour, whether devotional or moral, are
secured by deference to the prevailing opinions and habits of society, as is
shown sometimes by the fact that, when we are in foreign parts, and no longer
under this restraint, those proprieties and regularities are not so carefully
maintained. Many good actions are done, more or less, because they are in
keeping with a man’s position, conciliate credit to him, gain him the praise of
others. Works of usefulness and social (and even religious) improvement may be
undertaken, more or less, from that activity of mind which is inherent in some
characters, because naturally we cannot bear to be standing still, and are
constitutionally unfitted for a studious, contemplative life. To have probed
their own wounds, and pored over their own inflamed and envenomed frames, would
have availed the poisoned Israelites nothing, unless, after such a survey of
their misery, they had lifted their eyes to the brazen serpent. “Look unto
Him,” therefore, “and be ye healed.” (E. M. Goulburn, D. D.)
Nathan’s parable
I. The parable as
based upon fact. There were two men in one city; the one rich, and the other
poor. The rich man had many flocks and herds: the poor man had one ewe lamb.
And the rich man, in a case of emergency, instead of taking a lamb out of his
own flock, killed the one ewe lamb of the poor man. If that never occurred we
must know it. Did it ever occur? It is the thing that is occurring every day.
It is the infinite danger of wealth that it becomes oppressive, cruel,
thoughtless, selfish. There is a sanctified wealth; there is a gracious social
position; there is a condescending royalty. But why should it be remarked that
such should be the case? Simply because of the almost innate tendency of men to
use wealth with cruelty and selfishness. The poor man feels the cold wind
first. The destruction of the poor man is his poverty. Wealth when it oppresses
carries with it its own condemnation. Wealth when it is used as a means of
succouring men, helping the true and the good is doing the work of God. But we
are dealing with something below all that we now know as personal
facts--namely, with principles, mysteries, with that whole region, almost
undiscovered, of motive, passion, impulse that never can be explained adequately
in words. On the other hand, a man is not necessarily a virtuous citizen
because he has only one ewe lamb. Let us be impartial.
II. The parable as
a method of teaching. The parable was a favourite educational instrument in
Eastern nations. There were many parable-makers in Oriental lands. But where
are the parables equal to those which are to be found in the Bible? Balaam had
a parable, Jotham had a parable; Nathan has a parable, and others in the Old
Testament now and again come very near to the line of parable, but in
proportion as we discover the parable to be beautiful and true we see in it the
Spirit of the living God--the Eternal Force--the Divine Quantity. But when we
come to the teaching of Jesus Christ all the other parables fall off into dim
perspective; and after he laid down that instrument was it ever taken up again?
Jesus Christ often fetched a compass--and he fetched it by such a sweep, by
such a reach of mind, that the men upon whom his attention was fastened little
suspected, until after the completion of the parable, that they were the
objects of his judgment and condemnation. This is masterly preaching--to be
personal without the individuals knowing that we are such; to get up a whole
statement, coloured in every hue of heaven, sharp with all the pungency of
criticism, and for men afterwards to wake up to the fact that the preacher was
meaning none other than themselves. What applies to Christ’s parables, and to
all others of the same quality, applies to the whole revelation of God.
III. The parable as
a practical revelation of God’s justice. We have seen that the thing which
David did “displeased the Lord.” Does God treat the sin lightly? He says: “The
sword shall never depart from thine house;” across every bright summer that
shines upon thee there shall be a great bar of blackness; when the birds sing
to thee thou shalt be constrained to punctuate their songs with memories of
remorse; when thou dost lift the flagon to thy lips the wine shall leave behind
it a poisonous taste; when thou liest down a thorn shall puncture thee: thou
shalt never escape from this deed of wickedness. Whilst, therefore, the mocker
is eager to quote as against the Bible the sin of David, if he be a just man as
well as a jiber he ought to quote the judgment pronounced by God, and to see
how true is the doctrine of eternal torment even in relation to this life. This
parable, too, shows us man’s responsibility. David is not allowed to escape on
the ground of being overtaken in a fault. Kings ought to be their own subjects.
The greater the man, the greater should be the saint. The greater the
opportunities we have had of education and culture of every kind, the severer
should be public criticism upon our lapses and iniquities, To whom much has
been given, from him shall much be expected. He who knoweth his Lord’s will and
doeth it not shall be beaten with many stripes. (J. Parker, D,D.)
Nathan as a true prophet
Nathan here presents the image of a prophet in its noblest and
most attractive form. Boldness, tenderness, inventiveness, and tact were
combined in such admirable proportions that a prophet’s functions, if always
discharged in a similar manner with equal discretion, would have been
acknowledged by all to be purely beneficent. In his; interposition there is a
kind of ideal moral beauty. In the schools of the prophets he doubtless held
the place which St. Ambrose afterwards held in the minds of priests for the
exclusion of the Emperor Theodosius from the church of Milan after the massacre
of Thessalonica. (W. Smith, D. D.)
Nathan the parabolist
Krummacher tells us how the wise Nathan learned the benefit of
parables. He sought to instruct men by putting on coarse garments, and using
harsh words; but men ran from him and left him vexed and alone. After a
miserable night he was led by the spirit of God to a pomegranate tree, bearing
flowers and fruit at the same time. He contemplated it, and saw the fruit
concealed among the leaves. Then the word of the Lord came from the pomegranate
tree, saying: Behold, Nathan! thus nature promises the delicious fruits by the
simple flower, and offers it from the shade of the leaves concealing her hand.”
Nathan was cheered, and henceforth taught by parables, winning many to the ways
of truth.
Reproof by portrait
Leech, the, celebrated artist and caricaturist, is said to have
had an effective method of reprimanding his children. If their faces were
distorted with anger, or a rebellious temper, or a sullen mood, he took out his
sketch-book, transferred their lineaments to paper, and showed them, to their
own confusion, how ugly naughtiness was. (Sunday Companion.)
The force of private admonition
Great is the benefit of conference and private admonition. Luther
was much helped this way by Staupicius; Galeacius by Peter Martyr, Junius by a
countryman of his not far from Florence; Senarclaeus by John Diazius; Latimer
by blessed St. Bilney, as he styleth him; Dr. Taylor by that angel of God, John
Bradford, who counted that hour lost wherein he had not done some good with his
hand, pen, or tongue. Private admonition, saith one, is the pastor’s privy
purse, as princes have theirs, besides their public disbursements. It repented
good Mr. Hiron, and troubled him on his deathbed, that he had been so backward
to it, and barren of it. (J. Trapp.)
Definite teaching as to sin
Delivering publicly a charge to a newly-ordained minister, Robert
Hall said to him: “Be not afraid of devoting whole sermons to particular parts
of moral conduct and religious duty. It is impossible to give right views of
them unless you dissect characters, and describe particular virtues and vices.
The works of the flesh and the fruits of the Spirit must be distinctly pointed
out. To preach against sin in general without descending to particulars may
lead many to complain of the evil in their hearts, while at the same time they
are awfully inattentive to the evil of their conduct.” How wise is this! We
need to be specific as to home-sins, business-sins, social-sins, church-sins,
pew-sins, and pulpit-sins; for to lay bare definite evil is half-way towards
its removing. No preaching was ever more pointed and personal and practical
than that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and those who heard Him knew He meant
themselves if no other. (H. O. Mackey.)
Reproving without offending
It is told us of Henry Martyn that lie was a man with a wonderful
power of telling men of their faults, and bringing them to a right mind, and
yet never offending them. Someone said to him: “How do you manage to tell them
their faults without offending them?” He replied, “I never go to another to
tell him his fault, until I have been down on my knees before God, and seen
that, but for His present grace, I should be in the same fault myself.” That is
the spirit of meekness. Yes, blessed are the meek who will get down, just as Henry
Martyn did; he got down on to his knees, and that is the best way to get to tim
ground, and then from that level lie spoke to the one who was in fault. When he
got up he lifted his brother with him. (H. Brooke, M. A.)
Preaching to the conscience
Robert Wodrow tells a story of a certain merchant who “came from
London to St. Andrew’s in Fife, where he heard first the great and worthy Mr.
Blair preach, next he heard the great Rutherford preach, and afterward Mr.
Dickson. When lie came back to London his friends asked him what news he had
from Scotland. He answered, he had very great and good news to tell them. They
wondered much what they could be, for tie was before that time a man altogether
a stranger to true religion. He told them he heard one Mr. Blair preach at St.
Andrew’s; and describing his features and the stature of his body, he said,
“That man showed me the majesty of God”--which was Mr. Robert Blair’s peculiar
talent. “Then,” added he, “I afterwards heard a little fair man preach”--Mr.
Rutherford “and that man showed me the loveliness of Christ. Then I came and
heard at Irvine a well-favoured, proper old man, with a long beard”--which was
the famous Mr. Dickson--“and that man showed me all my heart;” for he was most
famed of any man of his time to speak to cases of conscience. (Alexander
Smellie.)
Verse 5
2 Samuel 12:5
David’s anger was greatly kindled against the man.
The self-deception of sin
You do not know the strength and poison of sin till you resist it.
It was this want of resistance that bed David into such depths of humiliation
and degradation. He was allowed, of course, by the law of Moses to have as many
wives as he pleased. His great victories over the Syrians at Helam had given
him an inflated sense of self-importance and power. He had slain the men of 700
chariots of the Syrians and 40,000 horsemen, and had killed Shobach himself,
the general of King Hadarezer. The shepherd-boy who had become king was
delighted with himself. He thought he could do anything. His conscience was
lulled to sleep. He broke the seventh commandment. But he went on in his easy
slipping away from rectitude. He resisted nothing. So it was with St. Augustine
of Hippo, the greatest of the Fathers of the Church. He had a Christian mother
of eminent piety and noble character, and the idea of God and the love of the
name of Christ never entirely left him; but all through his youth he behaved as
he saw Others doing. He resisted no inclination. He gave himself up to all tire
sins of his heathen companions, and placed no restraint on himself of any kind;
not till long years afterwards did he see the hideousness of his conduct. “Woe
is me,” he cries in his Confessions, “and dare I say that Thou didst hold Thy
peace, O my God, while I was straying further from Thee? Didst Thou, then,
indeed hold Thy peace from me? And whose but Thine were those words which by my
mother, Thy faithful one, Thou didst chant in my ears? Nothing whereof sank
into my heart so as to do it. They seemed to me womanish advices, which I
should blush to obey. But they were Thine, and I knew it not; and I thought
Thou didst hold Thy peace, and it was she who spoke; by whom Thou didst not
hold Thy peace; and in her Thou wast despised by me, I knew it not; and ran
headlong with such blindness that among my equals I was ashamed of being less
vicious, when I heard them boast of their vices, yea, boasting the more the
baser they were; and I took pleasure not only in a wicked act, but in the
praise of it.” And again in another place:--“I have loved Thee late, Thou
Divine Beauty, so old and so new; I have loved Thee late! And lo! Thou wast
within, but I was without, and was seeking Thee there. And into Thy fair
creation I plunged myself in my ugliness; for Thou wast with me, and I was not
with Thee Those things kept me away from Thee, which had not been except they
had been in Thee. Thou didst call, and didst cry aloud, and break through my
deafness. Thou didst glimmer, Thou didst shine, and didst drive away my
blindness. Thou didst breathe, and I drew breath, and breathed in Thee. I
tasted Thee, and I hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burn for Thy
peace. If I, with all that is within me, may once live in Thee, then shall pain
and trouble forsake me; entirely filled with Thee all shall be life to me.” Not
till he resisted sin in the strength of the grace of his conversion and baptism
did Augustine see the enormities of his past life, which till then had seemed
excusable as the life of other young men of his age and time. “It is impossible
to estimate the strength of the principle of evil in the soul till we begin to
struggle with it; and the careless or sinful man--the man who is not striving
with sin, but succumbing to it--cannot know its force.” It is a law of Nature
that resistance is the best measure of force. Look at the stream of that calm,
majestic river; it is sweeping along silently, with hardly a ripple. Its
surface is so smooth that you would hardly know that it was moving at all.
Suddenly it comes along its course to a place where rocks stand up from its bed
and oppose it, current. At once it is torn by resistance into waves and foam.
All its strength and swiftness are revealed as it lashes itself against the
opposing masses. Think of the wind rushing over a wide plain. As long as it
meets no obstacles, you cannot measure its strength. But as soon as it leaps on
the trees of the forest, and wrestles with their giant arms, and tosses and
writhes them about in the air; as soon as it flings itself upon houses and
streets and towns, as soon as it reaches the sea, and beats and pushes its deep
waters into towering mountains of top-heavy billows; then you hear it shriek
and howl, and you know its power by its results. Think, again, of some still,
ice-bound region, locked in silence, over which the long months of a sunless
winter have lain heavy. There is a quiet as of death. But at length the warmer
currents of spring make themselves felt below the deep vast covering of ice
that seemed so immovable; and the sun comes up at last from his protracted
exile, and then the forces of nature burst forth, the ice is cracked and torn
with a thousand fissures, as by the invisible blows of giants, the boom and
roar of breaking and colliding masses deafen the whole air with ceaseless
thunder, and you know at length the strength of that long tyranny that has been
overthrown. So it is in the moral and spiritual world. The power and nature of
sin are only seen when you begin to resist it. You only know what you are
escaping from when you begin to wrestle against the ropes that bind you. That
is the reason why so many men and women of the world, with a low standard of
conduct, seem to have no remorse. They make no struggle. They have little or no
happiness, because the consequences of sin are so unsatisfying. But they do not
at present know anything better. Wordliness and evil sweep over their natures
like the smooth current of the river, like the silent wind over the unresisting
plain, like the deadly frost crushing the life out of the Arctic Sea. It is
astonishing how far men will go in these unconventional aspects of conduct. A
Neapolitan shepherd came in great anguish to his priest. “Father,” he cried,
“have mercy on a miserable sinner! I should have fasted, but, while I was busy
at work, some whey, spurting from the cheese-press, flew into my mouth,
and--wretched man--I swallowed it! Free my distressed conscience by absolving
me from my guilt!” “Have you no other sin to confess?” said his spiritual guide.
“No, I do not know that I have committed any other.” “There are,” said the
priest, “many robberies and murders from time to time committed on your
mountains, and I have reason to believe you are one of the persons concerned in
them.” “Yes,” he replied, “I am; but these are never accounted a crime; it is a
thing practised by us all, and there needs no confession on that account.” That
is only an instance of the low depths to which conventionality may sink. No
doubt his adviser taught him to begin to resist his robbing and murderous
habits. The man seemed innocent enough, because he only compared himself with
his comrades, not with the law of God. He, and such as he--and how many there
are in similar case!--are like the snowdrift when it has levelled the churchyard mounds,
and, glistening in the winter sun, lies so pure and fair and beautiful. And yet
the dead are rotting and festering below. A very plausible profession, wearing
the look of confidence and innocence, may conceal from human eyes the foulest corruption
of the heart. In whatever way sin has prevailed over an individual--whether in
avarice, injustice, ill-temper, pride, vanity, sensuality, untruthfulness,
dishonesty, deceitfulness, guile, envy, malice, spite, vindictiveness,
selfishness, worldliness, ambition, covetousness, party spirit, self-will--it
generally reigns as powerful as the mighty stream, as withering as the icy
frost. The soul is hardly aware of its bondage, it is so complete. “The
Sanskrit word for ‘serpent,’” says Max Muller, “was Ahi, the throttler. The
root of the word means to press together, to choke, to throttle. This word was
chosen with great truth as the proper name for sin. Evil, though presented
under various aspects to the mind, having also many names, had none so expressive
as that derived from the root, to throttle.” Anhas, sin, was throttling,
consciousness of sin, the grasp of sin on the throat of his victim. The statue
of Laocoon and his sons, with the serpents coiled round them from head to foot,
realises what the ancients felt and saw when they called sin Anhas, the
‘throttler.’ And it does more than choke--it blinds.” “It is amongst the most
potent of the energies of sin,” says Archer Butler, “that it leads astray by
blinding, and blinds by leading astray; that the soul of man, like the strong
champion of Israel, must ‘have its eyes put out’ when it is to be ‘bound with
fetters of brass,’ and condemned to grind in the prison-house.” “Often,” it has
been said, the sense of guilt breaks upon the awakened spirit with all the
strangeness of a discovery.” So it was with St. Augustine of Hippo. So it was
with Thomas Scott the commentator, the great saint of the end of the last
century. When he left school he was bound as an apprentice to a surgeon. He
behaved in such a manner that at the end of two months his master dismissed
him, and he returned home in deep disgrace. “Yet,” he said, “I must always
regard that short season of my apprenticeship as one of the choicest mercies of
my life. My master, though himself irreligious, first excited in my mind a
serious conviction of sin committed against God. Remonstrating with me on my
misconduct, he said I ought to recollect that it was not only displeasing to
him but wicked in the sight of God. This remark proved the primary means of my
conversion.” You cannot tell when the voice will come or how; but depend upon
it God will not leave you alone, and your salvation may depend on your discerning
His warning or remonstrance and listening to it, There is a wholesome and
significant legend in the Koran of the dwellers by the Dead Sea, to whom Moses
was sent. They scoffed and sneered at him; they saw no message in what he said,
and so he withdrew. But Nature and her rigorous veracities did not withdraw.
When next we find the dwellers by the Dead Sea, says the legend, they had all
become changed into apes. By not using their souls they lost them. The voice of
conscience can be stifled. Light can be rejected. God’s spirit ever striving
can be resisted by the rebellious freewill of man. (W. M. Sinclair.)
The partiality and blindness of self-love
1. And we may observe that the readiest way to pass a true judgment
upon any occasion is to be one’s self disinterested and unconcerned, and to
remove the cause to a third person. David here considered the case. The
circumstances of his life were never such; nor such, at any time, his
disposition. Therefore, he is very free to consider narrowly, how much
injustice and cruelty were in this single act of oppression; and viewing it in
all its most unsightly colours, as freely could condemn it. The reason why we
refer our causes to the arbitrement of a third person is not because he
understands them better than ourselves (for that is not always so), nor that he
loves justice better, but because he has no interest or inclination to corrupt
and bias him, one way or other, but will judge according to reason. It is the
same case with ourselves, when either love or hate, hope or fear or any other
passion possesses us; we are too much prejudiced to judge exactly righteous
judgment; every inclination or aversion drives us from that steadiness of mind
which is requisite to the being impartial: Every little slight appearance is an
argument when our goodwill is on its side, and the most solid weighty reasons
are light as the dust of the balance, when urged against our interest or our
humour. Every man and woman looks well enough in their own glass, but that is
not the way to judge of beauty; we stand too near ourselves to see ourselves
exactly. In a word, we love ourselves too well to censure hardly, and the voice
of slander is the other extreme, so that the common judgment oftenest hits the
truth in judging of our public actions.
2. That we may therefore know ourselves the better, and judge
impartially of offences, we may observe the prudent way of parables, which the
Spirit of God uses, throughout the Scriptures, to bring men to a sense of their
condition by transferring the cause to another person, and showing men
themselves in another’s image. Our Saviour, who was exceeding tender, where he
could find the least degree of modesty, uses this way of parables most
frequently, instructing and reproving the Jews, in the person of a stranger.
The end our Saviour drived at was not their shame, but their amendment, and
therefore if they would but apprehend his meaning he would press no farther.
“When the Lord of the Vineyard cometh” (Matthew 21:40) “what will he do to those
husbandmen” who had beaten and stoned his servants and killed at last his son?
“They say unto him, He will miserably destroy those wicked men,” etc. Thus, by
this parable, he brought, them to acknowledge the justice of God in destroying
the Jewish people for their great, infidelity and cruelty shown to himself, the
true Messiah. Had Nathan come to David and told-him of a certain prince in the
world who, having abundance of wives and concubines of his own, would not yet,
in a fit of dissolution, satisfy those inclinations, where he might without
offence or injury, but, would needs send to one, who was his neighbour and a
nobleman, to have his wife, who had but one, and whom he loved most tenderly,
and accordingly debauched her, bereaving the man of all the joy and
satisfaction of his life. Had Nathan addressed David with this story the king
had found out his drift immediately, but the rude application would have given
him such distaste that, though he might have been convinced of his guilt, yet
probably he would not so freely have confessed himself guilty. The bluntness of
reproof does not well suit with the modesty of human nature; and downright
coming upon a man puts him upon his guard, into whose good liking you might
have insinuated yourself and gained your point by artificial soft approaches.
And people who design the benefit of those they would reprove will be careful
to do it in the most acceptable manner; their chiefest aim is to secure their
end and their next point of wisdom is to use such methods as are easiest and
most useful. And this especially should be observed in dealing with perverse
tempers or with great superiors. And therefore great discretion is to temper
zeal, to prevent its excesses; and zeal is to come in and hinder our discretion
from degenerating into fear and cowardice, and being corrupted by our interest
or self-love, for no example can be an adequate sufficient rule in all cases,
to all people.
3. We may observe from hence the great partiality and blindness of
self-love, that will not let us see how heinous our own offences are, nor
suffer us to condemn them with the rigour they deserve, when we do see them. If
the cruel oppression of this rich man in the parable deserved death, in the
opinion of David, what would the violation of the marriage-bed deserve? And
what the murder of the husband? When one would do justice one should remove the
cause to a third person, and be wholly unconcerned; but when we would show
mercy, then let us bring it home and put ourselves in the condition. And we may
see how transcendently great the mercies of God are to men above what men can
afford with reason to one another. Violent theft is worthy of death, so is
adultery, and so is murder. They are offences that overthrow society and good
order. Now all these sins are no less heinous in the sight of God than they are
mischievous to men; and yet God pardons them upon repentance. ‘Tis a true
plague, this wickedness! A man infects all he converses with, and gives them
death, but dies himself also. David makes Joab guilty of Uriah’s death, and many
other officers and soldiers, hut is himself, after all that, the man that kills
Uriah. Men must not, therefore, think they avoid the guilt of many crimes by
avoiding the being concerned immediately in committing them; there is a
murdering men by other people’s swords than our own, and a swearing people out
of their estates by other men’s perjuries, and a doing violence by other
people’s hands, of which we may ourselves be guilty, and for which we shall one
day answer, as well as our instruments. A man may contract guilt, even by
intentions, wishes, and desires, although they never take effect. If one man
persuades another, his equal, to a piece of wickedness he will be guilty of
that wickedness himself, though it be not plain how far, nor in what degree or measure;
but if he command, or use authority with arguments, to his son, or servant, to
commit the same wickedness, he will be, in such case, more guilty,
proportionately to the power and influence a father or a ‘master is presumed to
have over a son or servant, which he uses to so bad purpose. If David the king,
or Joab the general, command a common soldier to retire from Uriah in the heat
of battle, and leave him to perish, they will be somewhat more guilty of
Uriah’s death than a common officer would be, though counselling the same
thing, because the authority and influence of the former was so much greater,
and more like to take effect, and the soldier is presumed to be more at liberty
to refuse his compliance with such unjust and villainous commands, when they
come from one who is nearer to him, and whose displeasure he dreads not so
much, nor hopes so much from his favour. Let the people, therefore, that are
busied in this bad work of setting others upon wicked actions consider this,
that, however innocent they appear to the world, and unconcerned, however wary
to avoid the censure of people and the punishment of the laws, by keeping out
of sight, and at a distance, they are nevertheless guilty before God, according
to the power and influence they have had over the instruments of wickedness
that they employed, and that it will avail them little at the day of judgment
to have kept their tongues from perjury and their hands from blood or other
violence when their hearts have been deeply concerned in willing and desiring,
and contriving and resolving, and their tongues employed in insinuating,
persuading, threatening, or commanding wickedness, to other people.
4. Another use that we may make of Nathan’s application may be, to
use his words ourselves upon occasion, to be in earnest, and to let our
consciences pronounce these words distinctly to us, “Thou art the man,” when
there is reason. A prophet will not always be at hand to tell us when we have
offended, but every one’s own heart will be to him a prophet, and speak it
plainly to him, if he will but hear it. ‘Twas a strange lethargy that David
fell into, for the space of at least ten months, and one can hardly tell how a
man so quick and tender as he was could possibly continua so long unmolested;
the liberties of princes and great men in the East were always very great, and
so continue to this day. David knew better than all the world besides that he
was guilty of it. David knew his own intentions and his orders. We are
therefore at liberty to think that, David was not, for ten whole months,
perfectly ignorant and unconcerned, and without all troublesome reflection on
what had passed, but that he was, like people half asleep, alarmed with a sort
of distant noise, but not enough to waken them throughout; he lay, as it were,
in pleasing slumbers, and was afraid of rising to a full recollection of what
he had done, and yet not able quite to shake it off. When I say, therefore,
that a man should use these words of Nathan and be a prophet to himself, I mean
that he should use no shifts or wicked arts to stifle his remembrance of his
former life, but let his conscience do its part in reflecting on what is past,
and in applying faithfully what is heard or read, proper to his condition, and
I make no doubt but he would often hear it say with Nathan, “Thou art the man.”
And truly, unless a man will do his heart this right, as to let it speak
freely, upon fit occasions, without endeavouring to choke or silence it, by
vicious habits and a constant succession of business, or diversions, it will be
hard for him ever to be again renewed to repentance. (W. Felwood, D. D.)
On the deceitfulness of sin
There are many circumstances in this narration which may and ought
to remind us of truth in which we are too nearly interested. But the principal
of them will be comprehended if we learn from it the following points of
doctrine.
I. That, without
continual care, the best of men may be led into the worst of crimes. Every man
hath within him the principles of every bad action that the worst man ever did.
And though in some they are languid, and seem scarce alive, yet, if fostered by
indulgence, they will soon grow to incredible strength; nay, if only left to
themselves, will, in seasons favourable to them, shoot up, and overrun the
heart, with such surprising quickness that all the good seed shall be choked on a
sudden by tares, which we never imagined had been within us. And what increases the
danger is that each of us hath some wrong inclination or other, it is well if
not several, beyond the rest natural to us, and the growth of the soil. Then,
besides all our inward weaknesses, the world about us is thick set round with
snares, differently formed; some provoking us to immoderate passion, or envious
malignity; some alluring us with forbidden pleasures or softening us into
supineness and indolence. Not that with all this we have the least cause to be
disheartened, but only on our guard. He that imagines himself to be safe never
is so; but they, who keep in their minds a sense of their danger, and pray for,
and trust in, help from God, will always be able to avoid or go through it.
Temptation hath no power, the great tempter himself hath no power, but that of
using persuasion. Forced we cannot be, so long as we are true to ourselves.
David at first violated only the rules of decency, which he might easily have
observed, and have turned away his eyes from an improper object. This, which
doubtless he was willing to think a very pardonable gratification of nothing
worse than curiosity, carried him on far beyond his first intention, to the
heinous crime of adultery. There, undoubtedly, he designed to stop, and keep
what had passed secret from all the world. But virtue hath ground to stand
upon; vice hath not; and, if we give way at all, the tendency downward
increases every moment. Sometimes the treacherous pleasantness of the path
invites us to stray a little farther, though we are sensible it descends to the
gates of hell. Sometimes the consciousness that we are guilty already tempts us
to fancy it immaterial how much more we become so, without reflecting that by
every sin which we add we diminish the hope of retreat, and augment thy weight of our
condemnation. Sometimes, again, as in the case before us, one act of wickedness
requires another, or many more, to cover it. Lesser instances of undue parsimony grow insensibly
into the meanest and most sordid avarice; lesser instances of greediness of
gain into the most hard-hearted rapaciousness, And On the other hand, little
negligences in their affairs, little affectations of living above their
ability, little, pieces of expensive vanity and extravagance, are the direct
road to those confirmed habits of carelessness and prodigality by which people
foolishly and wickedly ruin themselves and their families, and too commonly
others besides their own. Always, therefore, beware of small sins.
II. That men are
apt to overlook their own misdemeanours, and yet to be extremely quick-sighted
and severe in relation to those of others. The facts which David had committed
were the most palpable, the most crying sins, that could be; nothing, one
should think, to excuse them; nothing to disguise them; no name but their own
to call them by: adultery, falsehood, murder. Even after the murder many months
appear to have passed before Nathan was sent to him: still David had not
recollected himself, but seemed to go on in perfect tranquillity. Nay, which is
more astonishing than the rest, when the prophet bad contrived a story on
purpose to convict him of his guilt, representing the first part of it so
exactly that nothing, which was not the same under different names, could be
liker, it never once brought it, so far as appears, to his memory. Yet all this
while he had not, in the least degree, lost the sense of what was right and
wrong in general. We all know our duty, or easily may: we are all abundantly
ready at seeing and censuring what others do amiss; and yet we all continue,
more or less, to do amiss ourselves without, regarding it. The main precepts of
life, such as we are most apt to fail in, are partly obvious to reason, partly
taught with sufficient clearness by revelation. Let all the sophistry in the
world recommend, let all the powers upon earth enjoin, irreligion, cruelty,
fraud, promiscuous lewdness: it will, notwithstanding, be altogether
impossible, either to make the practice of them tolerable to society, or to
change in all the inward abhorrence of them which mankind in general are led by
nature to entertain. But still the majority even of heathens, and surely then
of Christians, do or may, for the most part, as clearly discern what is
blameable and commendable as what is crooked and straight. Let it be tried in
the conduct of an acquaintance or contemporary; the principal danger will be of
a sentence too rigorous. For if the sin brought in question before us be one to
which we have no inclination we shall be sure to censure it without the least
mercy. And though it be one of which we have been guilty, provided our guilt be
unknown or forgotten, we can usually declare against it as harshly as the most
innocent person alive. Or how moderate soever the consciousness of our own past
behaviour might otherwise dispose us to be: yet if once we come to be sufferers
ourselves by the same kind of sins, which we have formerly indulged, and
perhaps often made others suffer by them, then we can be immoderately loud in
our complaints of what formerly we fancied, or pretended, had little or no hurt
in it. Nay, without any such provocation, few things are commoner than to hear people
condemn their own faults in those around them. Now these instances prove, we
arc convinced, that all sorts of sins are wrong: only we err in the application
of our conviction. No one’s failings escape us but our own: and of them the
most glaring escape us. Self-love persuades us to think favourably of our
conduct in general. Then, in some things, the bounds between lawful and
unlawful are hard to be exactly determined. Now, unfair minds lay hold on these
difficulties with inexpressible eagerness: and choosing, not, as they should,
the safer side, but that to which the bias within attracts them, proceed, under
the cover of such doubts, to the most undoubted wickedness: as if, because it
is not easy to say precisely, at what moment of the evening light ends and
darkness begins, therefore midnight could not be distinguished from noonday.
Thus, because it cannot be ascertained just how much every one ought to give in
charity, too many will give nothing, or next to nothing. Because it cannot be
exactly decided how much time is the most that we may allowably spend in
recreation and amusement: therefore multitudes will consume almost the whole of
their days in trifling instead of applying to the proper business of life, in
order to give their account, with joy to him who shall judge the quick and the
dead. These and the like things they will, some of them, defend and palliate
with wonderful acuteness; designed partly to excuse them to others, but chiefly
to deceive and pacify themselves. Not that they ever attain either of these
ends. For their neighbours, after all, just as plainly perceive their faults,
as they perceive those of their neighbours. And it is but a half deceit that
they put upon their own souls. Yet this dream of security is but a very
disturbed one: nothing like the clear and joyful perception that he hath, whose
conscience is thoroughly awake, and assures him of his own innocence, or true
repentance, and interest in the pardon which his Redeemer hath purchased. But
in however strong delusion God may permit them to remain at present, how can
they be sure but ere long remorse may seize them, an adversary expose them.
Therefore, one of the happiest things imaginable is being made sensible of our
sins in time: and the first step to that is reflecting how liable we are both
to commit them and to overlook them.
III. That, as soon
as we are, by any means, made sensible of our offences we ought to acknowledge
them with due penitence. Indeed, let the person that makes you known to
yourselves be ever so little authorised to do it, still you are indispensably
con-concerned to take notice of it. If he profess himself a friend, he hath
given you the truest and boldest proof of his friendship that can be. If he be
a mere acquaintance or a stranger, but appear to admonish you with good
intention, you ought to esteem him for it as long as you live. And were you to
believe him ever so much your enemy, never let that provoke you to become your
own; think only if he speaks truth, and submit to it; amend, and disappoint
him. Strive not to make yourself easy in what you feel is wrong, but quit it.
Strive not to colour over and palliate matters, for this is deceiving no one
but your own souls.
IV. That if we
repent as we ought the greatest sins will be forgiven us. This, indeed, our own
reason cannot promise with any certainty at all. God we know is good. Man is
frail. And hence we have cause to hope that his goodness will extend to the
pardon of our frailties. But, then, in proportion as we go beyond frailties, to
gross, deliberate, habitual transgressions, this hope diminishes continually,
till at length it becomes exceedingly doubtful. And now, as we are strangely
apt to apply everything wrong, too many, instead of the extreme of despondency,
run into that of profane boldness: and are very near looking upon sin as
nothing to be dreaded, and remission of sin as nothing to be thankful for. At
least the certainty of it they conceive, they could easily have discovered of
themselves, and therefore have little obligation to Christ, the publisher of a
truth so obvious. Indeed, after all that hath been done to assure us it shall
be exercised, there are some, of minds more tenderly sensible than ordinary,
who, after committing great offences, or perhaps only such as to them appear very
great, experience the utmost reluctance, either to be reconciled to themselves,
or persuaded that God will be reconciled to them. How ill soever you may think
of yourselves; though God requires you not in the least to think worse than the
truth, and would have you judge calmly of your spiritual state, not under the
disability of a fright; but whatever opinion you may form of your own defects,
forbear to entertain all injurious one of him. When tie hath sent His blessed
Son to make atonement for you, when He hath told you in His holy Word, when tie
tells you by His ministers every day, that this atonement reaches to the very
worst of cases, do not except your own in contradiction to Him, do not indulge
doubts and scruples about what He hath plainly promised, in order to be
miserable against His will, but, together with the sorrow of having offended,
allow yourselves to feel the joy of being restored to favour.
V. That
wickedness, even after it is forsaken, and after it is forgiven, produces
nevertheless very often consequences so lamentable that for this cause, amongst
others, innocence is greatly preferrable to the sincerest and completest
repentance that ever was. Sometimes no immediate connection between the
transgression and the suffering is visible, that it may seem to be the hand of
God rather than a natural effect; though, indeed, would men consider, every
effect proceeds from His hand, but commonly they are closely linked, to deter
men from committing iniquity, by showing them beforehand what fruits they must
expect it to produce. (T. Secker.)
The self-deceitfulness, of sin
Butler points out that, portentous as David’s internal hypocrisy
and self-deceit was, it was all the time local and limited in David. That is to
say, his self-decit did not as yet spread over and corrupt his whole life and
character. There was real honesty in David all this self-deceiving time. David
gave scope, in Butler’s words, to his affections of compassion and goodwill, as
well as to his passions of another kind. And, while this is some comfort to us
to hear, there is a great danger for us in this direction also. The whited
sepulchres fasted twice in the week, and they gave tithes of all that they
possessed. They made broad their phylacteries, and made long prayers, and were
always to be seen in the synagogues, with their mint and anise and cumin. They
made clean, no men made so clean, the outside of the cup and platter. Many of
them had begun, like David, with only one thing wrong in their life; but it was
a thing which they hushed up in their own consciences, till by that time the
self-deceit was spreading and was well-nigh covering with death and damnation
their whole life and character. David was rescued from that apparent end; but
he was fast on the way to that end when the Lord arrested him. David all the
time was administering justice and judgment as boldly, and With as much anger
at evil-doers, as if there had never been a man of the name of Uriah on the
face of the earth. And just because he was making men who had no pity restore
the lamb fourfold; just because of that he was more and more confirmed in his
own self-deceit. We would need Nathan and his parable at this point. Only your
self-deceit would make you miss his point, till he drove it home into your
bleeding heart. You are the men. (Alex. Whyte, D. D.)
Verse 7
2 Samuel 12:7
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man.
His natural face in a glass
Mr. Moody somewhere tells the story of a little child who had
fallen into the gutter, but would not submit quietly to be washed, till his
mother, finding persuasion useless, caught up the rebellious boy in her arms
and turned him before a looking-glass. So here the righteous prophet brings the
guilty king before the mirror of a lustrous parable; in a moment the blackness
of the royal transgressor’s misdeeds was seen, and he cried out, with full
conviction of his sin--“Unclean! Unclean! wash me, O God, and I shall be
innocent from the great transgression!” Nathan by his parable brings David the
offender unawares before David the judge. The solemn subject suggested by these
words is the blinding of self. Here was a man who was deeply incensed at an
abstract story of injustice, with which he personally, as he thought, had no
concern, but apparently insensible to the gravity of the crimes, far more
abominable, which he himself had perpetrated, How is it that we have such open
ears and quick eyes and sharp tongues for the misdeeds of others, while we are
so blind and gentle to our
own? Why are we such severe judges on our very own crimes seen on others? Let
us try to answer these questions OH the lines of the Old Testament episode.
I. It cannot be
said that conscience is dead. For no sooner does David hear a story of
oppression than his conscience rises majestically in con-detonation of the rich
man’s execrable tyranny. The conscience was quick and powerful; otherwise it
could not have asserted itself so immediately and majestically. Conscience
cannot die. There are certain moral truths which shine by their own light and
need not that any should bear witness to them. These moral axioms require no
proof: they abide for ever in the constitution of man. Just as mathematical
axioms, such as “Things which are equal to the same are equal to one another,”
are accepted by all men as fundamental and final: so there are moral axioms,
such as “Honesty is right,” or “Truth is right,” which require no laboured
demonstration, but by their own intrinsic excellence command acceptance at once
and by all. These moral intuitions cannot perish. They are a part of man’s
being. A man may mistake the application or resist the force of these moral
certainties, but he never can deny their reality. In this fact lies the hope of
the world’s salvation. There is in every soul a sense of right and wrong. Prove
to any one that he is a sinner, reach the conscience, and redemption is already
begun. From this fact, those engaged in Christian work may gather great
confidence. Every witness for Christ has a friend in the court of man’s nature.
A man may be so engrossed with the pursuit of what is merely pleasant or
profitable that he may not hear at all, or hear but in a dim and confused way,
the warnings and entreaties of the inner monitor, just as a member of the
family circle, busy at some book or task, may be so preoccupied with his own
thoughts and employment, that he hears and yet does not hear the conversation
of those around him, and answers the questions even that may be addressed
directly to him in that provokingly dreamy and abstracted manner,
characteristic of absent-mindedness. So we hear, even though we may only
vaguely heed, the voice of conscience. A man may even encase his conscience in
a mailed coat of deliberate and hardened villany, but conscience is still
there, a living, breathing immortal entity. At any moment a word, a glance of
the eye, a pressure of the hand, may be an arrow to penetrate some joint of the
harness. There are many ways of reaching the conscience, as there are many ways
of touching the heart. It may be only a brief story, like Nathan’s parable, or
a single verse, or a child’s sermon; but any one is sword enough to pierce the
quick sense of right and wrong. Take comfort, then, my fellow-labourer, from
this thought that in every man conscience lives, moves, and has its being; and
that however closely confined it may be in the dungeon of ignorance or
depravity, a word of God can shake the prison as with an earthquake, and wring
from the sturdiest keeper’s soul the cry, “What must I do to be saved?”
II. But let us go a
little deeper and ask, how is it that though David’s conscience was in itself
living and vigorous, it was actually so long in moving against himself? In
endeavouring to answer this question, we must remember that conscience is not
an independent faculty. Its judgments are founded on the representations of the
mind. The intellect furnishes the premises on which the moral faculty rests its
conclusions. If the premises are wrong, the inferences must be erroneous, even
though they are in themselves correctly drawn. To be a little more specific,
conscience never undertakes to tell me what is honest in a particular case; my
own intellect tells me that: but conscience, as soon as the intellect decides
what is honest, authoritatively declares that the honest course is right and
ought to be pursued. Conscience never says any more than this, that “honesty,
or purity, or veracity is right;” it is for the intellect to state what is
honest, or pure, or truthful. Consequently, if the information furnished to the
conscience by the intellect is defective, or exaggerated, or distorted, or
wholly mistaken, the judgment of conscience will be proportionately in error.
The moral axioms are in themselves infallibly correct, but they may be wrongly
applied, just as the axioms of mathematics, while infallibly correct in
themselves, may be wrongly applied. I turn my intellect to consider certain
actions, and I carry, suppose, the assurance to my conscience that these are
honest add those dishonest. Immediately conscience, acting on the information
of the intellect, asserts that the former are right and the latter wrong. But
if the intellect is mistaken, conscience must be correspondingly mistaken.
Conscience is like an eye, which is round and good m itself, but which is
compelled to look on men and things through the window of the understanding. If
the intervening glass is not pure and spotless, if it is coloured or
discoloured, the external world will, to my eye, be tinged or blurred accordingly;
or if this pane is marred by a knot, that one by a bubble, that other by an
abnormal curve, all by some defect, then my view will be distorted, nature will
be twisted out of shape, in accordance with the character of the medium. Yet
the fault is not in my organ of vision or in the outside world, but in the
interposing panes of glass. Herein lies the possibility of two consciences,
equally good and true in themselves, giving totally opposite, or widely
diverse, decisions on the very same data. An easy conscience, therefore, is not
always a safe guide. A man may fight even against God with a perfectly clear
conscience: a man may go to hell with a perfectly clear conscience. There is a
story told by John Foster in
one of his essays of a wicked and traitorous naval captain, who, unable to coax
or coerce his sailors into a vile surrender to the foe, concealed a large
loadstone at a little distance from the needle. The sailors, unaware of the
cruel trick played’ upon them, steered their vessel faithfully by the compass,
but to their degradation and destruction, for their misplaced confidence
carried them directly into a hostile port and the enemy’s pitiless hands. Yet
all the while these misguided mariners thought that all was well because they
were steering by the compass. And, indeed, the needle was right in itself,
tremblingly sensitive, ready to point in the proper direction if it had not
been tampered with, if it had not been turned aside from its true bearing by an
influence that the hapless crew wot not of. Just so many a one is going to
ruin, shaping his course, as he thinks, by conscience; but it is a conscience
directed, or rather misdirected, by a darkened mind, an evil heart, a sinful
will. Thus, many a man, who has not yet had his heart changed, manages to say to
himself, “Peace, peace,” when there is no peace. Certainly all should believe
in Christ; but does not he believe in Christ? So he keeps interpreting or
misinterpreting matters to his conscience; so conscience is soothed; so the
sinner, often a respectable, well-clad, high-toned, pure-minded sinner, is
lost. It is thus possible for us to keep saying, “Peace, peace,” until by mere
reiteration we come to believe our assertion. It is proverbial that a man may
tell a lie so often that he comes at last to believe his own falsehood; and a soul may be at ease in
Zion, the conscience reposing on a specious and comfortable falsehood or half
truth, which frequent repetition clothes with an air of authority. What reason,
then, in view of the awful possibility of being self-deceived, we have for
scrutinising and re-scrutinising our outward conduct, and as for the inner man
humbly and earnestly we should cry to God each for himself: “O Lord, teach me
Thy way. Lead in a plain path, for I know nothing as I ought to know. Search
me, O God, and know my heart, try me and know my thoughts: and see if there be
any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
III. But still the
question recurs, How is it possible for a man like David to be guilty, like David,
of most abominable crimes, and yet soothe his conscience into quietness? We can
understand a man misinterpreting actions that are not palpably and notoriously
evil, where there may be room for mistake and misapprehension, and so
furnishing his conscience with misleading information. But how is it possible
for one, like David, to perpetrate the enormities of which he was guilty and
yet remain easy in his mind? How could he by any chance so misreport the facts
of such a glaring case to the impartial tribunal within? Here we enter on one
of the most solemn subjects that could be considered, the blinding influence of
the love of self. Love is notoriously blind: and self-love--the most subtle,
ineradicable of all loves--is the blindest of all, so that even if our hands,
like David’s, be steeped in blood, we have still some excuse to offer for
ourselves. It is this love of self that makes us very conscious of the changes
that take place in our neighbour’s appearance, but slow to note our own. We see
the pallor of disease, the wrinkles of care, or the whitening of old age, far
more readily in others than in ourselves. Loathsome diseases are far more
bearable in ourselves than in others. What would be tedious and offensive in
others is perfectly tolerable in ourselves. So in spiritual things, we can
behold the motelike splinter in our neighbour’s eye, but the weaver’s beam in
our own we may not discern. I knew two men, occupying good social positions,
who were unhappily addicted to drink, They lived in the same town, and their
families were very intimate. Each of them was blessed with an excellent wife.
Again and again have I heard each of these men in turn, when he happened to be
sober and his neighbour was indulging in a bout of drinking, railing at the
drunken husband over the way, and pitying the splendid woman who had the
misfortune-to be tied to such a soil all this in tones of unquestioned
sincerity. What is the explanation of this? In judging ourselves we have the
love of self on our side as a special pleader. David may have said to himself:
“I was very idle, and Bathsheba was very beautiful. I was specially tempted.”
Or he may have flattered himself with the thought: “ After all, I did not kill
Uriah. I did indeed order him to be put in a place of danger, but some one had
to stand in the forefront of the battle, and why not he as well as another?
Moreover, is not Uriah a Hittite? Is he not one of a race that we are
authorised to exterminate?” Or he may have soothed his conscience with the
notion that if he had done wrong to Uriah it was for no merely selfish purpose,
but in order as far as possible to recompense Bathsheba for the injury
inflicted on her. Possibly by some such arguments, at all events by some subtle
reasonings and excuses, dictated by the love of self and the pride of life, he
succeeded in veiling the filthiness of his conduct from the clear eye of the
moral faculty. What a commentary is all this on the blindness of man to his
personal guilt! Here was one, who had been wont to live in close and happy
fellowship with God, and vet yielded to and lived in flagrant sin for a long
time, without apparently being conscious of its vileness. Ah, beloved, do we
not stand sorely in need of some one who will tell us the truth about
ourselves? Is Christ our enemy because He tells us the truth? There is in
reality in every one of us the seeds of thoroughgoing depravity. If we say that
we have not the principle of sin we simply deceive ourselves. The principle of
sin may take divers forms, varying according to men’s training, opportunities,
hereditary tendencies, peculiar temptations, associates, and such like; but,
whatever form it takes, the principle is there. What varied manifestations
there are of matter in nature. There it is in the clouds, in the rushing wind,
in the gas lighter than air, in the flowing river and the restless ocean, in
the green field and the snow-capped mountain, in the pebble from the brook and
the rock dug from the quarry. Analyse these multitudinous forms, and you will
find all alike in essence; there is one elementary substance throughout all
this manifoldness. (G. Hanson, M. A.)
Sin’s selfdiscovery
In this lurid sentence the prophet of God condemned the guilty
king out of his own month. It was no mild utterance, this, but one charged with
moral passion and righteous anger. The circumstances called for the word, too.
The wretched man upon the throne now saw, and for the first time, what ms sin
really was. It was guilt calculated upon and persisted in, guilt covered up
even in David’s own mind by sophistry and self-excuse. Now comes the moment of
revelation, when the true state of things is declared to David’s consciousness
just as it had long ago been declared unconsciously, though he never dared to
face the truth. Imagine the scene that is hinted at in this chapter rather than
described. David sits upon the throne in the day of his splendour, surrounded
by his mighty men, and the plain-garbed figure of the prophet of God appears on
the scene. He is made welcome--why should it not be so? This victorious king is
the chosen of the Lord. What message can Nathan have to bring but a message of
good? The court is hushed to listen. The wisdom and righteousness of David
respond eagerly to the demand of the prophet. Thus and such the rich man has done.
Thus and such vengeance is called for, retribution to be awarded. What saith
the king? “And David’s anger was greatly kindled against the man.” The court is
silent, waiting for the prophet to speak. One sentence it is which issues from
his lips, how terrible only David knew though the awe-stricken listeners must
have felt, too, something of the impact of the tremendous utterance, “Thou art
the man.” Self-deception is never very difficult. Men are curiously averse to
calling things by the right name. There is no kind of hypocrisy so subtle and
so dangerous as the hypocrisy which is hypocrite to itself and will not
acknowledge its own presence. We can cheat ourselves as David did that because
the world knows nothing and because there is a euphemistic word to describe a
foul thing, that therefore God is deceived too. He is not, and heaven is not.
The world of truth interpenetrates this, the world of glory is not a
handbreadth off. You cannot hide from the eternal right. As Arthur Hugh Clough
hath it in one of his most familiar lines, “Listen before I die, one word. In
old times you called me pleasure; my name is guilt.” What a dark name, what a
foul name, what an unpronounceable shuddering word you would have to apply if
you were honest, some of you, to the things you have done! God, you see,
applies the right word--“Thou art the man.” In God’s economy, in God’s moral
world, the meaning of punishment is that the soul is compelled to see itself as
it is, and to acknowledge the eternal justice. Come it soon or come it late,
God’s verdict upon sin is written large in the experience of the sinner. I was
reading recently in one of Maurice Maeterlinck’s books, I think the last, a
paragraph something to this effect. I do not quote, I only paraphrase--If a man
hath done a guilty deed, if a man hath been betrayed by himself, dragged down
by evil propensity, and hath the courage and the faith to rise again, the day
comes, the moment is his when he can say, It was not I that did it. Of course
you see the paradox of the mystic. Yes, but it was a truth stated in paradox. A
man may so rise above the habitual level of his own character that deeds are
forgotten. It is not so much the deeds that matter, it is the climate of the
soul, it is the moral atmosphere in which you live that is telling out the
truth. A man’s real fall often antedates by long the fall that the world can
see and judge him by. But, look you, if a man has risen so far by virtue of his
penitence that he reaches the heart of God; so exalting himself, by true humility
that he is no longer capable of that old sin, it is, as it were, blotted out of
the book of remembrance. To such a man I would be entitled to say in the name
of the Lord of Hosts, “Thou art not the man,” the man that was, but
another, redeemed, purified, made holy by the Spirit of God. There are some
people who are morbid in their retrospection and their view of their own moral
delinquencies. Remorse is not repentance. Morbidness is by no means humility.
There is another way and a higher. It is impossible for you to contend with
God. Once you have realised that there is no longer need for you to remain in
the prison-house. If any man is hopeless concerning the past I call him to a
deeper as well as a higher life. An old mediaeval mystic once wrote, “In every
man there is a godly will which never consented to sin nor ever shall.” You
know what that signifies. It tells you that the deepest self in every man is
Christ. What? Yes, I mean it. Until conscience is dead Christ is not gone from
the soul of any man but that Christ you may be crucifying. (R. J. Campbell.)
Conviction, confession, and forgiveness
The king was confounded! So sharp, so sudden, so altogether
unexpected was the charge, he could not resist it. Like a well-appointed shaft
flying from a practised archer it transfixed his heart.
I. The force of a
direct appeal to the conscience. General allusions to human guilt, coupled
though they may be with fervent exhortations to repentance, fail to produce
conviction and compliance. Ordinary arguments, though derived from the Word of
God, and based on the love of God, are ineffectual to melt and subdue. All the
ordinary strivings of the Spirit are resisted and repelled.
II. Man’s weakness
with concealed sin in his heart. Of all the men of his age, up to this time,
David was certainly, intellectually and spiritually considered, the strongest.
Righteousness is man’s strength, and the fear of God his courage. What wild and
foolish fears affright the guilty one, who has covered his sin, who has hidden,
as he thinks, from all mortal gaze every trace of the deed he has wrought, the
exposure of which is his shame, but in whose heart, nevertheless, the horrid
fact lies festering and pulsating! The weakest point in a wicked man’s heart,
after all, is his own conscience--that principle within that sits in judgment
on all his doings, and pronounces which are right and which are wrong. And in a great
wrong conscience will cry out with a loud voice.
III. Of the love of
God in the exposure of guilt opening up to the guilty the possibility of
forgiveness. Now, what will God do with him? Will He inflict an instantaneous
vengeance, and execute him as a criminal? He deserves it; it is the legal award
of his crime. No, not the God of Love; not if it can be avoided; not if God can
make a way to avoid it. He makes such a way. “The Lord is gracious, and full of
compassion, slow to anger, and of great mercy. He will not always chide, nor
will He keep His anger for ever.” So sang the psalmist hereafter, and well
could he verify his song. “The Lord hath put away thy sin, thou shalt not die,”
are the first words of mercy to revive hope in David’s stricken heart. Not in
wrath, but in love, sent the Lord His prophet unto David. The text is a sharp
arrow, but it is tipped with honey, not with poison, It is a healing, not a
killing dart. Its message is painful, but it is a message of mercy. Was it not
Divine love that thus hung as a dense cloud charged with electric fire,
threatening to smite him? Let us learn, then, that the judgments of God as well
as His mercies embody and exhibit His love. Let us learn in it God’s
disciplinary and chastising dealings with ourselves. And in Christ we have the
fullest revelation of His love. Beginning with the forgiveness of sins to the
perfecting of our manhood in Christ--let us remember there is forgiveness with
Him. (W. J. Bull, B. A.)
Nathan’s message
David’s conscience seems to have been deranged, to have forgotten
its function; and it is with our moral as with our physical being--when any of
our natural organs are diseased and suffered to continue in that state, the
character of the organic action becomes gradually changed, and a complete
departure from healthy action succeeds, and perhaps the reparation of the organ
becomes impossible after a time. David is excessive in pronouncing sentence
upon the imaginary transgressor. Now, here is an indirect testimony of
conscience to the law, that it was good; but here is a solemn lesson. It is one
thing to agree with the general correctness of a principle, and it is quite
another thing to apply practically that principle to our own life and
conversation. Every one is ready to admit that it is a practical duty to
relieve distress; and yet, if you compare the numbers of those who act upon the
conviction with the multitudes of those who are ready to admit the principle,
it is to be feared that a lamentable failing will often be discovered. Or take
some of our every-day principles. We are ready enough to admit the uncertainty
of life, and the goodness of God, and there are certain principles of practice
that follow as directly from the admission as night succeeds to day; and yet
bring men to the touchstone of practice, and they will be found as practical
deniers of their own principles. No; you find men eager in the pursuit of
shadows still. We are ready to admit the goodness and long-suffering of God,
that we are dependent for everything upon Him, and yet where is the man that
can examine his own conscience without being compelled to admit that his
affections have been given to things with which it would be blasphemous to
speak of God as having divided allegiance? Therefore, we have, in dealing with
ourselves, a mighty enemy to guard against--our tendency to deceive ourselves.
The wisest statesman of antiquity has said, “It is the easiest thing possible
to deceive oneself.” The wish is too often parent of the thought. If, by
succeeding to deceive ourselves as to our actual state, we were able to cancel
the reality of that state and to remove the fearful consequences that
unrepented sin entails upon is, then indeed “the preacher’s task were one of
wanton cruelty, to disturb the calm repose of the life that now is, if, by
suffering it to continue, it could possibly issue in the repose of the life
that is to come. But what would be thought of one who would see a
fellow-creature moving blindfolded to the brink of a precipice, one step after
the arrival at which precipitated his doom? Perceive how the prophet advances.
“Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, I anointed thee king over Israel and I
delivered thee out of the hand of Saul.” The prophet here enumerates the
mercies of God which had been vouchsafed to David from his earliest history. It
is well, when the Christian habitually enumerates God’s mercies, and widen the
recollection serves to keep alive the flame of gratitude that ought to burn
there. “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits.” But it is
a very different state when the conscience is dead, when the memory of past
mercies is lost, when it produces no response in the seared heart--when the man
of God is constrained, as Nathan is here, to enter into a recapitulation of the
mercies of God, and the forgetfulness of him who was sustained by them, and who
had so long forgotten them. “Wherefore hast thou despised the commandment of
the Lord, to do evil in His sight? thou hast killed Uriah the Hittite with the
sword.” It would, humanly speaking, have been impossible to have brought the
murder home to David; but “God seeth not as man seeth; man judgeth by the
outward appearance, but God regardeth the heart.” Just as David is here
arraigned by God for the murder which he had not with his own hand perpetrated,
so are multitudes found guilty before God of that which man can never
substantiate or bring home to them. This is the penetrating character of God’s
Word; it is thus that we are to read it--as entering into our inmost thoughts
and conceptions--as high and holy in its requirements. It is in the life and
language of Jesus Christ that we see this law reflected. Here the prophet dealt
faithfully with the royal transgressor; and there seems to have come a flood of
light upon David’s slumbering mind. He seems as one awakened from a dream of
sin. And now we hear the psalmist humbling himself. “And David said unto
Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord.” These are blessed words; they are the
response that God requires to His expostulation--“Only acknowledge thine
iniquity.” And simultaneous with the confession is the offer of mercy. “The
Lord hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.” Here we have the law and the
Gospel forcibly contrasted. We have the unbending rigour of the law speaking in
this wise. The law says, “Thou shalt surely die,” and there is no help or
escape; but the Gospel says, “Thou shalt not die.” How otherwise than in Christ
can these statements be reconciled? How can we vindicate the stern requirements
of God’s holy law, and yet offer to the transgressor of that law unqualified
pardon and free acceptance, except in the name of Jesus Christ? This is exactly
the Gospel; and would it not be strange, were the Bible of any other source
than that whence it came? We have no eye to appreciate the beauty of God, until
it is reflected in the face of Jesus Christ; we cannot understand “the voice of
the charmer, charm he never so wisely,” until the Spirit, whose office is to
glorify Jesus, takes of the things of Christ and shows them to our wondering
souls. Then there is amazement, then there is gratitude, then there is love,
and the heart going forth earnestly to God, in conscious acknowledgement of all
that God hath clone for us. Observe, then, what a fund of comfort is opened
here to the distressed mourner. He looks to his Bible, and there he finds
encouragement to believe that no degree of guilt, however black, can militate
against his free acceptance, if he cast himself only on the free mercy of God
in Christ. Then the sinner asks, “How is it consistent with the justice of God?
How is it consistent with the maintenance in their perfection of the other attributes
of God, to extend pardon to the sinner upon his confessing, his sin?” Then the
Gospel interposes; then all that Jesus undertook, all that Jesus accomplished,
and the value of Jesus’ work comes in upon his mind, convinces him that God can
be just, even when He is the justifer, and that if he confesses and forsakes
his sin, God is not only merciful, but even righteous and just in forgiving his
sin, and in cleansing him from all unrighteousness. The very attributes that
were before arrayed against the sinner, and clamoured, trumpet-tongued, for his
destruction, are now arrayed on the other side, and speak as powerfully for his
acceptance and sanctification. There is another feature connected with this.
David was a man after God’s own heart, and David’s sin was calculated from its
very nature to throw a greater discredit upon the profession of religion than
the sins of those who were not so remarkable for having previously walked with
God. (T. Nolan, M. A.)
No man impeccable
I. That no man is
placed beyond the danger cf perpetrating the most atrocious crimes--crimes
which are equally offensive to God, injurious to society, and destructive to
the criminal. This observation is strikingly confirmed in the instance of
David, the king of Israel. There was no advantage on the side of virtue and
religion which he did not possess. What ought to operate as a preventive of
wickedness, which did not distinguish this man at the very moment when he
consented to become the most guilty of his species?
1. Shall rank, wealth, and glory be pleaded as a security against the
perpetration of evil? David possessed them all. How extensive was his range of
lawful gratification! In the figurative language of the prophet, “he had
exceeding many flocks and herds.” The occupiers of thrones have too frequently
been as notorious for their vices as conspicuous for their stations. Blessings
tainted by depravity are curses in disguise.
2. Genius of the highest order, learning of the most useful kind,
taste exquisitely refined, and capable of the purest satisfactions--will not
these preserve the character, at least, from the foulest blots of iniquity? No;
dead and living illustrations prove the contrary.
3. May we not confidently hope that the sobriety of mature age, no
longer subject to the fervours of youthful passion, will present an effectual
barrier against the inroads of crime? The time had long passed away when it was
said of David that “he was a youth, and ruddy.”
4. But surely long habits of the strictest virtue, founded on
principles of genuine and long cultivated piety, will place an individual on a
pinnacle too high for temptation to reach. This good man, even when grown old
in religion, was guilty of deeds which many habitual sinners, though prompted
by youthful passion and unrestrained by the fear of God, would still have
abhorred, But, indeed, when once we allow ourselves to go wrong we can neither
know nor guess the consequences. That sin, indeed, with which David began is
peculiarly ensnaring and pernicious. The lower degrees of immodesty lead on
imperceptibly to the most unlawful familiarities. These entangle in a variety
of difficulties that ensure at last the commission of the vilest and cruellest
acts imaginable. And to specify no more particulars, mere indolent omissions of
religious duties, public or private, leave our sentiments of piety to languish
till we become utterly unmindful of our eternal interest, and perhaps at last
profane scoffers.
II. That many of
us, who least suspect ourselves, are chargeable with similar offences or
tendencies to those offences which we most severely condemn in others. We lift
up our voice, End justly, against the perjured, the ungenerous, the insulting
adulterer; the wretch, who robs his neighbour, perhaps his friend, by one fatal
act, of his dearest treasure, and his peace of mind; but have we pondered well
the saying of him who declares, “Whoso looketh upon a woman to lust after her,
hath committed adultery already in his own heart?” The will, before God, is the
deed. Do we regard with exemplary strictness the law of equity? If we do not
grossly defraud, do we not go beyond our brother, and take advantage of his
ignorance or weakness? In order to shorten human life, it is not necessary to
employ the pistol and the dagger. Servants may be easily brought to an untimely
grave by stinting them with respect to their necessary food, clothes, lodging,
or fuel; or by a repetition of tasks unnecessarily burdensome. The pleadings in
this case might be greatly extended, and the mask torn off from many whose
criminality is perhaps still hidden from themselves. (J. Styles.)
Tenderness of conscience
We should have naturally thought that every word of Nathan’s
parable would have stabbed David to the heart, would have cut him to the quick,
covered him with the deepest shame, and melted him into a repentant state. And
vet David’s conscience smote him not as the touching tale was told; he saw
nothing, he felt nothing, bearing on himself or his own case. He had no thought
that the arrow was meant for him, or that he was designed to read out, by the
light of the parable, his own great guilt to his own blackened heart Nathan had
with his own hands to tear off the veil, beneath which it was thought David
would have caught the dark features of his own transgression; and it was not
till he plainly said, “Thou art the man,” that the sinner felt his sin, and was
convinced that the messenger of God was sent to condemn him for his own evil
ways. Now, doubtless, as we have read this passage of God’s Word, we have often
wondered at David’s blindness, his want of perception, his strange dulness and
slowness of mind, which prevented him catching at once the meaning of what was
said; but the truth is, what seems strange in another, is all the while common
among ourselves; the same thing continually goes on. Blind and unobserving as
regards our faults, too ready to dismiss any shameful doings from our minds, we
are slow to apply warnings or reproaches to ourselves. We see easily, and with
quick eyes, how such a sentence strikes our neighbour, how our neigh-hour’s
faults are hit, our neighbour’s sins condemned. Messages sent from God often
come to us without effect, do not even graze the conscience, pass by unnoticed
and unapplied; and it needs often home-thrusts of the sharpest, plainest kind,
to convince us that we are spoken to by God at all. How much there is of
warning, of reproof, of condemnation, mercifully uttered in our ears,
mercifully addressed to us especially. These warnings are often very strong,
very decided, very plain; and yet we do not fit the cap to the head; they seem
to us to be meant, for others, to be meant for the world at large, or at any
rate not to be particularly meant for us. Thus the proud hear the proud
condemned by prophets whom God has sent, condemned by apostles whose mouths
breathe forth words of the Holy Ghost, condemned by Christ Himself, condemned
fearlessly in such awful terms as this, “that God resisteth the proud;” and vet
they get used to all these sayings about pride; they do not stop and weigh them,
and take them home to their own hearts, and see themselves condemned. So the
covetous hear of covetousness condemned at every turn, stamped as idolatry,
blackened with terrible denunciations, and vet the covetous go on saving money,
grudging to give it, making excuses for not giving it, slaving and toiling for
it, without any strong self-condemnation, without any quick perception that
they are in a perilous state. So the lovers of pleasure get used to the
threatenings hurled against those that love pleasure more than God, without
stopping to hear their own individual reproof. We do not see how the Spirit of
God, how the Lord Jesus in His love pleads with us individually, sets before us
our own falls, our own pride, our own covetousness, or our own lusts, our own
worldliness, our own swearing and drinking. Yet God deals with us one by one.
He speaks to each; to each He sends His messengers and message. If, then, we
are dull of heart, slow to hear what is for our own ears, we are, in neglecting
and failing to apply reproofs and condemnations, neglecting mercies,
loving-kindnesses, forgiveness, the longings of the Father for our salvation,
the pardon purchased by His Son. Often is there a voice which says, “Thou art
the man,” and even their we hear it not. One comes in choken with the cares of
the world, and a passage of God’s Word describes his state, shows his sin,
reveals his peril, and yet he goes forth unmoved, untouched, caring still about
worldly things; another comes in fond of money, and the love of money is
denounced in many fearful texts, and yet he seems not to hear the inspired
writer say to him, “Thou art the man.” Another comes in to offer lip-service,
to lounge away an hour drowsily in his seat, and Scripture straightway speaks
stern words concerning those who draw near with their lips while their heart is
far away, or who behave irreverently in God’s House; yet he too fails to think
that he is the one pointed at in the text. Another comes in given to drink, or
given to oaths, and he hears the Scripture awfully pronounce the guilt of those
who do such things without fear or dread, or awe. The least that we can do is
to pray for a more tender, quick-eared conscience, that the heaviness and
drowsiness of the heart may give way to a readier, more open mind, a mind more
keenly intent to hear what the Lord doth say, whether through things done in
the world, or through His written Word, or through the example of others, or
through the counsels of His ministers, or through the movements of grace within
our hearts, those inward calls, those inward warnings that rise up within us,
when no speech nor language is to be heard. (J. Armstrong, D. D.)
The awakening to the sophistry of sin
David is no longer the ingenuous youth on whose cheek glows the
blush of modesty; he is the hardened voluptuary, blind to his own failings,
careless of the welfare of his subjects, engrossed by selfishness. The prophet
of God was come unto him no longer to bless, but to rebuke. While the accents
of justice thus rushed to his lip, did no hidden pang tell him of his own
unworthiness? He Himself hath guided, the sword that laid Uriah in the dust.
This was the enormous transgression which even now hung, unconfessed and
unrepented, upon the soul of David. He sinks not beneath its weight. He seems
scarcely to feel the pressure. His countenance glows not with the blush of
shame, but with the indignation of virtue. On his lips is the language of proud
and conscious worth. The sacred Scriptures have not informed us by what
artifices David had concealed this wickedness from himself, or so palliated it
as to prevent in such a remarkable degree the power of conscience from exerting
its authority. The experience of ordinary life may, in part, unfold the
mystery. When we find men unconscious of their own defects, detecting these
very faults in another, and censuring them with unsparing severity; when we
find the vainest eager to deride the foibles of vanity; when we hear the
ambitions declaim against the folly of ambition; when we hear the miser loud to
censure an avarice less conspicuous than his own, it is obvious that these men
have either hid from themselves the knowledge of their own transgressions, or
have, by some sophistry, explained their sinfulness away. The king of Israel’s
ignorance of his own crime may then, in one view, have been wilful. When a
subject is disagreeable, we naturally avoid it. The spendthrift feels at times
the presage of approaching ruin; but be flies from the thought while he may,
and opens not his eyes till ruin is inevitable. Self-disapprobation being
painful, the same infirmity makes us wish to escape it--makes us to indulge the
dangerous palliative of biding our sin even from ourselves. What avails it that
the means of information are in our power, if we obstinately refuse to employ
them? Bright and varied, to the attentive gaze, are the charms of external
nature; but he who shuts his eyes against the light, cannot distinguish even
deformity and loveliness. Strong are the attractions of music to them who court
their power, but to him who stops his ear against their melody, the voice of
the charmer can never reach. David may at times have had transient glances of
his crime, but if he expelled them by the cares of empire, or drowned them
amidst the riot of gaiety, their impression would become ever fainter and
fainter. Had not the voice of rebuke or the stroke of adversity reached him, he
might have lost all knowledge of his own character for ever. But the king of
Israel’s ignorance of his own crime may also have been in a great measure
involuntary. The prejudices which various situations inspire, and the sophistry
with which passion argues, have incredible power in perverting our views of
good and evil. Even the most candid cannot view in precisely the same light,
the same action committed by himself and by another man. A thousand little
selfish considerations bind him. The very emotion which roused him against the
oppressor whose history Nathan had told, if permitted to operate fairly, would
have guarded himself from committing an act of cruelty yet more atrocious. But
when self-interest mingled its enchantment we see how totally his perceptions
were changed. The situation which he filled in life was one of those which are
the most peculiarly trying, unfavourable to disinterested and impartial views
of conduct. Exalted so far above his brethren, he seems at times to consider
them as made only for his pleasure, and to estimate actions only by their
tendency to promote it. If he applied his standard only to the case of Uriah, he
would find in it little to regret. In the particular case of David, too, the
pleadings of passion would exert all their artifice to blind the conscience and
judgment. For the first guilty act he would plead, as every succeeding
voluptuary has pleaded, the natural force of passion, unmindful that the
passions were given to be the handmaids, not the tyrants of reason and
conscience. For every succeeding step in his guilty progress he had something
like the plea of necessity to urge. But now, by the sophistry of passion, the
circumstances of the case were entirely changed. What would otherwise have been
seen to be the foulest murder was now an act of self-defence; what would
otherwise have been seen to be the meanest treachery was now interpreted as
considerate and merciful tenderness--softening the blow which it was forced to
inflict; and, since the victim must fall, kindly allowing him to die a
soldier’s death. What would otherwise have been seen to be base ingratitude was
now interpreted as an unavoidable though painful effort to screen the fame and
the life of a helpless confiding woman. Uriah must fall, or Bathsheba must die.
The choice is too clear for hesitation, and David almost imagines he does a
wise and a generous deed when, to screen the guilty, lie devotes the
unsuspecting to sure and speedy destruction. By whichever of these delusions
David had permitted himself to be blinded, its power seems to have been
strongly fixed in his mind. His danger was dreadful. If God had not interposed
in mercy, what was to rouse him from his fatal dream? Would not the sleep of
death have found him unconverted, and horror inexpressible attended his
awakening? Nathan with skilful and happy art raised first the better feelings
of David into action, and then tore the veil of self-delusion at once asunder;
taxing him loudly with his guilt, upbraiding him with those mercies of heaven
which he abused, and denouncing against him the judgments of the Lord. Let me
recommend to your most attentive performance the duty of self-examination, not
merely when you are called to join in the solemn festivals of religion, but at
regular and frequent periods. Examine, with keen and prejudiced suspicion,
every excuse that is offered for acknowledged defects. Think nothing trivial
that misleads from duty. Who can tell where the labyrinth of sin shall end? (A.
Brunton. D. D.)
A bold preacher
Pulpit power comes of holy boldness. In 1670, Bourdaloue, “the
founder of genuine pulpit eloquence in France,” preached before his sovereign.
Having described a sinner of the first magnitude, lie turned to Louis XIV. and
in a voice of thunder cried, “Thou art the man!” The effect on all was
electrical. After the sermon the preacher went and fell at the feet of the
king, saying: “Sire, behold one of the most devoted of your servants. Punish
him not because that in the pulpit he owns no other master than the King of
kings.”
Preaching to the heart
A great admirer of Bramwell once invited a scholarly German friend
to accompany him to hear ,.the fervent Methodist. At the close of the service,
anxious to know the impression produced, he said: “Well, Mr. Troubner, how do
you like him? Do you think he wanders too much from the subject?” “Ah! yes,”
said the German, wiping his moistened eyes, “be do wander most delightfully
from the subject to the heart.” Exposition needs personal application, the mind
enlightened must advance to the heart moved. (H. O. Mackey.)
The fearless preacher
was a type. He has had many a successor. John Knox at the Court of
Queen Mary, Bossuet preaching before the “Grand Monarque” of France, Savonarola
thundering from his Florentine pub at the vices of “Lorengo the Magnificent”
and the nobles, Martin Luther defying, in the name of righteousness, the
conclave of princes and cardinals at Worms Hugh Latimer preaching at
Westminster in the days of fearful peril to the faithful, Peter exclaiming, “We
must fear God rather than man!” (Christian Commonwealth.)
Faithfulness to God and the king
Bishop Latimer, having one day preached before King Henry VIII. a
sermon which displeased his Majesty, he was ordered to preach again on the next
Sabbath, and to make an apology for the offence lie had given. After reading
his text, the bishop then began his sermon: “Hugh Latimer, dost thou know
before whom thou art this day to speak? To the high and mighty monarch, the
king’s most excellent majesty, who can take away thy life if thou offendest;
therefore, take heed that thou speakest not a word that may displease; but then
consider, well, Hugh, dost thou not know from whence thou comest; upon whose
message thou art sent? Even by the great and mighty God, who is all-present,
and who beholdeth all thy ways and who is able to cast thy soul into hell!
Therefore, take care that thou deliverest thy message faithfully.” He then
proceeded with the same sermon he had preached the preceding Sunday, but with
considerably more energy. The sermon ended, the court were full of expectation
to know what would be the fate of this honest and plain-dealing bishop; After
dinner, the king called for Latimer, and, with a stern countenance, asked him how he dared to be so
bold as to preach in such a manner. He, falling on his knees, replied that his
duty to his God and his prince had enforced him thereto, and that he had merely
discharged his duty and his conscience in what he had spoken. Upon which the
king, rising from his seat, and taking the good man by the hand, embraced him,
saying, “Blessed be God I have so honest a servant.”
Pointed sermons
Many sermons, ingenious of their kind, may be compared to a letter
put into the post-office without a direction. It is addressed to nobody, it is
owned by nobody, and if a hundred people were to read it, not one of them would
think himself concerned in the contents. Such a sermon, whatever excellencies
it may have, lacks the chief requisite of a sermon. It is like a sword which
has a polished blade, a jewelled hilt, and a gorgeous scabbard, but yet will
not cut, and, therefore, as to all real use, is no sword. The truth, properly
presented, has an edge; it pierces to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit;
it is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. (J. Newton.)
Convincing preaching
A parishioner of Whately said to the Archbishop that he did not
believe that the occupant of the pulpit had a right to make those in the pew
uncomfortable. Whately agreed, but added, “Whether the sermon is to be altered
or the man’s life depends on whether the doctrine is right or wrong.” Said
Robert Morris to Dr. Rush, “I like that preaching best which drives a man into
the corner of his pew and makes him think the devil is after him.” (E. P.
Thwing.)
Verse 9
2 Samuel 12:9
Wherefore hast thou despised the commandment of the Lord.
The sinner’s treatment of God’s law
Some men treat the law and testimony of the Lord as if it were
like plaster of Paris, to be poured over their features to take the cast of
their own boasted loveliness. Religion is to them a matter of opinion and not
of fact; they talk about their “views,” and their ideas, as if Christians were
no longer believers but inventors, and no more disciples but masters. This
cometh of evil, and leadeth on to worse consequences. Our sentiments are like a
tree, which must be trained to the wall of Scripture; but too many go about to
bow the wall to their tree, and cut and trim texts to shape them to their mind.
Let us never be guilty of this. Reverence for the perfect word should prevent
our altering even a syllable of it. “The law of the Lord is perfect, converting
the soul;” let it convert us, but never let us try to pervert it. Our ideas
must take the mould of Scripture--this is wisdom: to endeavour to mould
Scripture to our ideas would be presumption. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Verses 13-25
Verse 13
2 Samuel 12:13
And David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord.
The repentance of David
If we wish to draw any lessons from the repentance of any one, it
is a great assistance to us to know something of the character of the man,
something of the sin from which he repented, something of the mode by which he
was roused to repentance, something of the nature of the repentance itself. All
these we have given to us in the case of David.
I. His general
character. It is a character difficult, perhaps, to understand, but its very
difficulty makes it instructive. It is full of variety, full of impulse, full
of genius; it is like the characters of our own later times--complicated,
intricate, vast; it covers a great range of characters amongst ourselves; it is
not like one class or character only, but like many; it is like you, it is like
me; it is like this man and that man. He is the shepherd, and the student, and
the poet, and the soldier, and the King. He is the adventurous wanderer, strong
and muscular, “his feet like steel.” He is the silent observer of the heavens
by night, “the moon and the stars which God has ordained.” He is the devoted
friend, the first example of youthful friendship, loving Jonathan “with a love
passing the love of women.” He is the generous enemy, sparing his rival. He is
the father mourning with passionate grief the loss of his favourite child: “O
my son Absalom.” Again and again we feel that he is one of us--that his
feelings, his pleasures,
his sympathies, are such as we outwardly love and admire, even if we do not
enter into them. But yet more than this, it is exactly that mixture of good and
evil which is in ourselves; not all good nor all evil, but a mixture of
both--of a higher good, and of a deeper evil, yet still both together. But it
is the other side of his character that we are now called to consider; and yet,
It is only by considering both sides together that we call draw its true lesson
flora either. It was to this tender, and brave, and loving character that the
Prophet Nathan came, with the Story of the hard-hearted, mean-spirited man.
Every just and generous feeling in David’s heart was roused by the story: its
simple pathos, now worn through and through by much repetition, was then felt
in all the freshness of its first utterance: his anger was kindled against the
man. No lengthened comment can add anything to the startling effect of the
disclosure of this sudden descent from all that was high and good to all that
was base and miserable.
II. David’s
repentance and our own.
1. Let us observe how the Scripture narrative deals with the case. It
does not exaggerate--it does not extenuate. David’s goodness is not denied
because of his sin, nor his sin because of his goodness. The fact that he was
the man after God’s own heart is not thrust out of sight because he was the man
of Nathan’s parable. The fact of his sin is not denied, lest it should give
occasion to the enemies of God to blaspheme. This is the first lesson that we
learn.
2. The sin of David, and his unconsciousness of his own sin, and so
also his repentance through the disclosure to him of his own sin, are exactly
what are most likely to take place in characters like his, like ours, made up
of mixed forms of good and of evil. The hardened, depraved, worldly man is not
ignorant of his sin--he knows it, he defends it, he is accustomed to it. But
the good man, or the man who is half good and half bad--he overlooks his sin.
His good deeds conceal his bad deeds, often even from others, more often still
from himself. Even out of those very gifts which are most noble, most excellent
in themselves, may come our chief temptations.
3. Let us observe both the exact point of Nathan’s warning, and the
exact point of David’s repentance. It is most instructive to observe that
Nathan in his parable calls attention, not to the sensuality and cruelty of
David’s crime, but simply to its intense and brutal selfishness. It is
remarkable that even deeper than David’s sense, when once aroused, of his
injustice to man, was his sense of his guilt and shame before God:--“Against
Thee, Thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight.” Dark as is the
shade of the dark sin done to man, a yet darker shade falls over it when viewed
in the unchanging light of the All-Pure and the All-Merciful. This is perhaps
especially the case with these grosser sins. David is driven by the very
fervour of his penitence to speak of this one sin as he would have spoken of
all sins. Every one of us is in danger of falling into sins of which we have no
expectation beforehand, of which, like David, we are ignorant even after we
have committed them. Whatever be our special failing--self-indulgence, vanity,
untruth, uncharitableness--and however it be made known to us--by friends, by
preachers, by reflection, by sorrow, by the death of our firstborn, by the ruin
of our house--let David’s feeling respecting it be ours.
4. This leads us to see what is the door which God opens, in such
cases as David’s, for repentance and restoration. There is the general lesson,
taught by this, as by a thousand ether passages both of the Old and the New
Testaments--that, as far as human eye can judge, no case is too late or too bad
to return, if only the heart can be truly roused to a sense of its own guilt
and of God’s holiness. “Thou desirest no sacrifice;”--consider the immense
force of the words; how wise, how consoling, how vast in their reach of
meaning--“Thou desirest no sacrifice, else would I give it Thee; Thou
delightest not in burnt-offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a
broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.” So spoke David in
the fulness of his penitence. So taught the Son of David in the fulness of His
grace and truth. Two final lessons we may learn from David’s repentance. For
others, it teaches us to regard with tenderness the faults, the sins, the
crimes of those who, gifted with great and noble qualities, are, by that
strange union of strength and weakness which we so often see, betrayed into
acts which more ordinary, commonplace characters avoid or escape. And for
ourselves, let us remember the still more important lesson that such a
foundation of good as that which there was in David’s character is never thrown
away. If it is not able to resist the trial altogether, it will at least be
best able to recover from it. (A. P. Stanley, M. A.)
On repentance
I. As the sin had
been public, so was his repentance, His penitent confession is recorded to the end
of time, to be read by every child of God, and be made the vehicle of hearty
confession by every penitent sinner until the day of judgment.
II. He puts utterly
out of the account all his former faithful service; there is not so much as a
hint of it; and if a person did not know how David had hitherto walked before
the Lord, and been his faithful minister on many trying occasions in the Church
of God, he could not have guessed it from any expression here. The truly
contrite heart gives glory to God for all the good, and takes shame to itself
for all the evil. Here is one of the difficult things in true repentance; how
unwilling is the heart to lose sight of any thing which it can set against its
sin! Even when it sees the vanity and sinfulness of doing this, it still clings
to a lurking comfort in the thought of some merit; it is unwilling to forego
every support of self-righteousness, to place itself at the bar of God’s
judgment, and to be found speechless without one word of defence; yet so David
did.
III. His repentance
followed up by actions. See the utter resignation with which he submits to the
first instalment of his punishment in the death of the child; see, again, how
humbly he bears the curse of Shimei, when he cries out, “Come out, come out,
thou bloody man, and thou man of Belial;” thus cruelly reminding him of the
very sins which we have been considering. How utterly dead was the spirit of
self-justification in the heart of the man who could speak and act thus!
IV. Repentance in
its true nature is not the work of a certain number of days or years; it lasts
through life. As David says, “My sin is ever before me,” and as David showed by
his humbleness of heart to the end of his life.
V. The sight of
his forgiveness. God, who seeth the heart of man, saw the real worth of Erase
words, “I have sinned against the Lord.” He saw in them the deeds which
followed them; He knew that they were not showy blossoms, that would soon drop
off, without any setting of fruit, like flowers in an unsuitable climate; He
saw in them the earnest of much and good fruit, as in a tree that is in its
proper soil and genuine climate. The beginning and the end are at once in the
sight of God, and He knew that the words came from a heart which would make
them good by the help of His grace; and therefore He accepted David’s
repentance, and commissioned the prophet Nathan to say unto him, “The Lord also
hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.” (B. W. Evans, B. D.)
David’s fall and recovery
1. The history of this pious and sincere servant of God is like a
broken hull deeply imbedded in the sand, and the ragged masts emerging from the
waves to tell others of the danger and to warn them to steer away from the
shoal on which this gallant ship was wrecked. David’s sad story has a voice to
every open ear, “Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.”
2. But this history illustrates David’s character, while it brings
out in parallel the character of God. Did God who has so fully recorded the
particulars of his servant’s crimes--did He wink at the crime? Did God dread
the exposure of David, and care to hide the crime, because the criminal was one
of His own family, and household? Let him who is disposed to sneer at David’s
fall, and to think that God may be partial, study well and carefully the record
of David’s punishment. But is that all that David’s sin and David’s fall should
teach us and has taught us of judgment?
3. Does it tell us nothing of mercy? Does it bring out nothing
further, both of God’s character, and the character of His true, though fallen
child? “I have sinned against the Lord:” That one thought spreads its sorrowful
influence over his whole soul. “My base ingratitude against God, my foul
dishonour done to God, the deep offence against his holiness, the sad requital
of His unmerited goodness”--that one thought like a dark veil, shuts out all
others.
4. And does not David’s feeling as a child bring out and illustrate
the feeling of God as a father? “If he commit iniquity, I will punish his
offences with the rod and his sin with scourges; nevertheless I will not take
away my loving kindness from him, nor suffer my faithfulness to fail.” When the
child who has sinned comes back with a broken spirit, and melting heart, to his
wronged and injured, but still loving father, will that father refuse the
pardon which is now all in all to his repenting child? Will he turn away coldly
from the returning prodigal, and not forgive the offence so deeply felt, so
fully acknowledged, and so evidently repeated? And so the broken-hearted David
has scarcely sobbed out, “I have sinned against the Lord,” when he who knew how
true and deep that sorrow was that wrung his heart, replied by his prophet,
“The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.” (W. W. Champneys,
M. A.)
Conviction of sin and recovery
The history of the past is the parable of the present. The shadows
of the dead are the representatives of the living. Scripture history is a
perpetual illustration of passing life. The sins of different ages may not be
exactly the same, and yet the illustration may be very complete.
I. Men often
correctly understand a message from the Lord without observing its personal
application to themselves. David listens with interest and indignation to the
words of the prophet. You do wonder, as you observe the appropriateness of the
words, that he does not himself see the meaning of the parable. You feel in
reading it as if it did not require any exposition. You understand Nathan as
soon as you hear his tale. But David heard no interpreter, and in pronouncing
judgment upon the unknown offender unconsciously condemned himself, the real
culprit. Yet this is so like human nature that I feel the truthfulness of the
account. Just like him many of you feel under a message from the Lord. You do not
think of yourselves. How many times have some of you uttered your own
condemnation, while you supposed you had been pronouncing righteous judgment
upon others! To you he has opened his mouth in a parable, and uttered a dark
saying; but only because you have not had the true interpretation. Yet often
the interpreter was there, if you had consulted him.
II. The beginning
of recovery from sins to produce in the heart of the sinner deep convictions of
his own sinfulness. To send a messenger to David, though he brought from the
Lord the most severe rebuke of the sin, was yet an auspicious omen and sign of
mercy for the sinner. Notwithstanding the grievousness and aggravation of the
sin, God had not utterly cast off His servant. In wrath He remembered mercy. Mercy
he did obtain; but it is for you to observe the sorrowful way he had to travel
in order to find mercy of the Lord. The words of Nathan were never forgotten.
Let no man think he may sin with impunity. Let no backslider comfort himself
with the thought that he will be restored in due time. Restored he may be; but
he will retrace every step with many tears. He will be brought back with many
stripes, and made to feel, in the sadness of his soul, the evil of his sin,
that never, as long as he lives, he may think lightly of it any more.
III. For heinous
sins a provision of mercy is made, but so made as will secure long and humbling
recollections of the aggravated guilt. David was pardoned--freely
pardoned--though his sin was very great upon him. “Where sin abounded, grace
did much more abound.” (R. Halley, D. D.)
The Lord also hath put
away thy sin; thou shalt not die.
God and the sinner
I. The Lord
convincing the sinner. We Observe that the impression which pierced most deeply
was this--he had sinned against his God.
II. God pardoning
sin. This appears particularly deserving of notice, as God’s dealing with David
may well be regarded as in the case of Paul, a pattern to those who should
after believe upon him to life everlasting. It is plain that pardon was here
bestowed as an act of God’s free and royal grace; it was extended according to
his will, at his own time, and in his appointed way. The way in which the Lord
here forgave his guilty servant may appear to mere human reason as by no means
the wisest; but to such a thought we may well reply, “the foolishness of God is
wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.” A deeper view
would convince us that no other way could have so well displayed the attributes
of Jehovah, or so secured the heartfelt humiliation and subsequent holiness of
David. Again, this mode of forgiveness must have melted the soul of David into
that union of self-loathing and gratitude, which constitutes genuine
repentance, and gives hope and peace, without which there can be no willing
obedience, while the memory of the past would ever keep alive self-distrust and
watchfulness.
III. The lord
chastens the restored penitent. Nathan had previously declared that the sword
should not depart from his house, but that in domestic trouble his own sin
should return upon him; and now he pronounced that, to mark the injury his fall
had done to the cause of God, the child of his sinful affection should die. We
are not to think from this that any guilt still remained charged upon him before
the Lord--no, for his sin was put away--but for his own good and for our
admonition, he underwent this painful discipline. Applications:
1. I think this subject speaks a word to the careless or hardened
sinner. Are you trying to hope as far as you think about it, that God will pass
over your sins? Beware, they must be absolutely pardoned here, or absolutely
punished hereafter.
2. There is much also here for the Christian to ponder on--he will
reflect with joy and great consolation upon this gracious proof of the infinite
mercy of the Lord--to many a soul it has furnished a successful reply to the
infected doubts of the tempter; but it unfolds an awful picture of the heart of
man. While we learn here that the gifts and calling of God are without
repentance, let us ever remember that our own strength is but weakness, and to
trust in our own hearts foolishness; for that God alone is able to keep us from
falling, and to present us faultless before the presence of His glory with
exceeding joy. (H. Townsend.)
The effect of pardon
1. We have two cases of sinners who have been entirely pardoned, and
whose actions after the announcement of that pardon have been left on the
record of Scripture--David and Mary Magdalene. Certain distinct features appear
in their cases after forgiveness, which are separate from the features of their
penitence; an intensity of love proportioned to the amount of remitted debt, a
life of continual carefulness, and a pathway in which they trod more or less
softly to the end el their days. And all this proceeding partly from the
deepest gratitude, and partly from the encouragement afforded by knowing they
were forgiven. We are all familiar with the glorious effects of the pronouncing
of pardons in the case of earthly criminals and earthly punishments. These may
as faint shadows symbolise to us the effect on our spiritual life of the
pronounced pardon of sin.
2. Under the Jewish dispensation we frequently find that a certain
bodily trial was annexed as a penalty to an act of rebellion against God; and
when that act of rebellion was repented of the act was cancelled.
3. But there are other conditions which we may take, as in some
degree equivalent to a pronounced pardon. When a sin has bound us in its
chains, and we lamenting over its dominion use every effort to subdue it and at
last succeed, and form the contrary habit, we may naturally hope that that sin
is forgiven. When we remain tied and bound by the chain of our sins in spite of
every effort to overcome them, we may take for granted that He, Whose grace is
all-sufficient, refuses on account of some lurking impenitence to grant the
pardon. There is some goodly Babylonish garment hidden in the heart, and till
that is given up the dark citadel will not yield. The moment the surrender is
entire, God’s hand will free the captive, and the stronger man will enter the
strong man’s house, take his spoils and the armour wherein he trusted. There
are times when strong inward persuasions, feelings of inward joy, the witness
of the Spirit may be indications of God’s forgiveness. When these feelings are
permanent, real, and healthy, we may fairly argue that they can proceed from no
other source than the blessed Spirit of God.
4. We must consider the result of pardon on the penitent.
David forgiven; a source of comfort to sinners
I. Heavy
afflictions are no signs of an unpardoned condition. There are times, perhaps,
when we find it difficult to believe this truth. A light and short affliction
seldom much depresses us, for we can easily reconcile it with a Father’s
faithfulness; but when succeeds blow to blow, when our troubles are peculiar,
and long-continued, and harrowing, our hearts begin to fail us. We are tempted
to think that a gracious God never can love the creatures whom He so sorely
wounds. We could not so afflict our children; we are ready to conclude,
therefore, that were we the children of a Heavenly Father, He would not so
afflict us: our once peaceful assurance of His pardoning mercy gives way, and
is succeeded by perplexity and doubt. Turn to the experience of David. It tells
us as plainly as the most comfortless affliction can tell us that a want of
spiritual consolation under calamities is no evidence of an unpardoned state.
It is true the Gospel teaches us to expect special consolations in special
sufferings. It is true also that the hour of affliction has oftentimes proved
the happiest, though at the time the afflicted Christian has thought himself
utterly forsaken. The feelings of mankind under afflictions have been as
various as their afflictions themselves. An accusing conscience is not the
scourge of an angry God: it is not the mark of His wrath. But an accusing
conscience is a mark of nothing but this, that we are sinners, and that sin is
a more evil and bitter thing than we once thought it.
II. A painful sense
of inward corruption is not inconsistent with pardoning mercy. If there is any
one lust which, day by day and year after year, leads us captive; any ungodly
practice in which we habitually indulge; if the sin which is our fear is at the
same time our delight, ever committed with greediness, though sometimes
repented of with anguish, the written testimony of God declares that we have no
more reason to regard ourselves forgiven than a dying man has to think himself
in health. But if sin is opposed, as well as felt; if through the Spirit the
base passions of our nature are habitually overcome; if sin causes grief and
abhorrence in our souls as well as terror; then, my brethren, we may be assured
that God, who is ever waiting to be gracious, will accept of our imperfect
services, He will hear our prayers and bless us for Christ’s sake. Lessons:
1. It points out to us the persons to whom the ministers of the
Gospel are to speak peace.
2. The text holds out to the sinner the greatest encouragement not to
despair, if he is truly sorry for his sins, and intends by God’s help to walk
in newness of life. (A. J. Wolff, D. D.)
Verse 14
2 Samuel 12:14
By this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of the
Lord to blaspheme.
Sins of Scripture saints
I. It is not our
duty to attempt to palliate the crimes of Scripture saints. Some have laboured
in their defence, as if our religion depended on their vindication, and, under
their pleadings, that which is recorded as the grossest crime, has been made to
appear as a very venial transgression. But against such ingenuity common sense
will revolt, and though carried away for a while, as the judgment may be, by an
eloquent plea for a criminal at the bar, the verdict will still be one of
condemnation. And this is precisely the course which the Scriptures pursue. And
this is the course which the Christian ought to pursue in speaking of these
characters.
II. Allowing, then,
all the guilt of these Scripture characters, does it furnish any argument
against religion? It has often been used for this end, but without reason. Will
it be said that a religion which holds up such transgressors as the Saints of
the Lord, cannot be from a holy God? But that religion does not commend their
sins, if it did, we might well reject it. Their sins are held up to our
abhorrence, and as proceeding from the want of more of the power of godliness.
The record of their faults, so far from weighing against the truth of
Scripture, is, indeed, one strong evidence in its support.
III. Had all been
represented as faultless, would the Bible have been any more credible? Then the
question would have been asked, Why is it that no such perfect characters are
formed under the power of the Gospel in the present day? Men would have looked
around upon its professors, and seen that they were but imperfect, and they
would have said either that religion had lost its power or that it never had
any.
IV. Will it be
objected that religion has but little power, if it leaves men to fall into such
sins, and that unassisted reason can produce as pure a morality as the Bible?
We are willing that the latter
should be judged by its fruits, and if it does not yield more perfect fruits
than philosophy or reason ever produced, then let it be rejected. But in
judging of its effects we must take them as a whole, and not look at solitary
instances of failure. David was one of the greatest kings of Scripture; let his
whole reign be compared with that of Alexander, the greatest king of ancient
profane history, and if it do not stand higher in a moral point of view, then
we might acknowledge that David’s religion was powerless. Every one acquainted
with the private and public characters of these two monarchs, placed amid the
temptations of power, must acknowledge that while there was one defiling blot
on the character of David, that of Alexander was one whole blot, set off only
by shining sins, and that while the subjects of the former were happy, those of
the latter were but the slaves of ambition and the instruments of terror.
V. When the
Scriptures describe the failings of good men, we see all the secret guilt of
their sins drought to light.
VI. The severity of
God’s justice towards these, his guilty servants. In the ordinary course of
things, their crimes would have been in a great measure concealed. But God
would not suffer these offenders so to escape. What would have been forgotten,
he has engraved on an enduring monument to their shame. Does not this look like
the confidence of truth?
VII. If, then, any
take occasion from the evil deeds of those mentioned in Scripture to blaspheme
it proves that they are enemies of the Lord. An humble-minded person will see
much in these records of sin to convince him of the truth of Scripture, and for
his own edification.
VIII. They have
encouraged many a believer, overtaken in a fault, to seek forgiveness. No doubt
many have drawn encouragement from hence to sin, and because such crimes us
those of David and Peter have been forgiven, some have been led to presume that
they too should find forgiveness, however they might live. From the same plant
poison and honey are extracted. But many a time also has the Christian been led
by the deceitfulness of sin into some gross transgression, yet after long
indulgence he awakens from his dream of pleasure, and finds the stings of
conscience can still reach him.
IX. These recorded
failings of good men have also made believers of succeeding ages more
circumspect. Many a one disposed to say, “I never will deny thee, Lord,” has
had presumptuous confidence checked by the recollection, how vain the boast was
in the mouth Of an apostle. Probably every Christian can declare that he never
reads these melancholy accounts without being made more humble, and distrustful
of self; and thus they have their use. In a great naval contest of England, we
are told that one ship ran aground so as to be entirely out of reach of the
enemy, but contributed very much to the victory, by serving an a beacon to the
other ships bearing down into action. It was not a way of contributing to
victory which any brave captain would choose, but it would be a matter of
rejoicing even in this way to serve one’s country. And so, though we would not
choose that holy men of old should have fallen into sins, we rejoice that the
great Captain of our salvation is making use of their failures to swell the
triumphs of his people, and to bring glory to his own great name.
X. That salvation
cannot be of works, but only of God’s free grace. (W. H. Lewis, D. D.)
The sin of giving occasion of blasphemy
You will observe that this signal misfortune is denounced against
David because he had “given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to
blaspheme.” Here is at once an answer to all the cavils of unbelievers, and a
satisfaction for all the scruples of weaker brethren. So far from any
justification of the conduct of David in this particular, we find it expressly
condemned; the sacred writer is perfectly aware of the tendency of this passage
of David’s history; and yet he is not directed by the Holy Spirit to suppress
it.
The faults of others no excuse for evading the claims of Christ
How can you make the excuse that because there are some hypocrites
you will refuse Christ Himself? I heard a friend tell a good story in reference
to that matter. An Irishman had found a sovereign which was short in weight, so
that he could only get eighteen shillings for it. The next time he saw a
sovereign lying on the ground he would not pick it up, for, he said, he had
lost two shillings by the other. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Hindering the Gospel.
If the sun be eclipsed one day, it attracts more spectators
than if it shone a whole year. So if you commit one sin, it will cause you many
sorrows and the world many triumphs. Dr. Whitaker, on reading the fifth of
Matthew, broke out saying, “Either this is not the Gospel or we are not of the
Gospel.” The cruelty of the Spaniards to the Indians made them refuse Christian
baptism. “For,” said they, “He must be a wicked God who has such wicked
servants.” (W. Secker.)
Evildoers discredit others also
A non-venomous snake one day met a venomous. “I wonder,” said the
non-venomous, “why men loathe and avoid me?” “Simply because they don’t know
which is which,” answered the other; “very few can tell us one from the other;
my poison fang, therefore, protects you also” “Yes.” said the first, “and
brings me into dreadful discredit too; your evil deeds are credited to our
whole family, and keep us in disgrace.”--(Weekly Pulpit.)
Judging all by unworthy examples
It was an amusing distortion of a good hymn, but there was not a
little sound philosophy in it, when the old negro preacher sang, “Judge not the
Lord by feeble saints.” And yet this is precisely what the great majority of unconverted
men are doing all the time. They will not go to the Bible and give heed to what
God Himself says. They have no ear for His voice of mercy that offers them
salvation for the taking. They do not pay any attention to the solemn warnings
that the Scriptures utter. They judge the Lord by “feeble saints.” They attempt
to feed their starving souls on the imperfections of Christians--poor food
enough they find it! Because God’s people are not all that they ought to be,
therefore these cavillers will keep aloof from the religion which they profess.
Because God’s believing followers are not perfect--they do not claim to
be--therefore, say these unbelievers, there is no power in religion. Christians
cannot claim exemption from criticism. They do not expect it. They know that
the eyes of the world are upon them. But they say to the unbeliever, “If you
would know the truth, go to the Word; go to Him Who is the truth; judge not the
Lord by feeble saints.”
How to judge the merits of religion
A man said to me in a railway train, “What is religion? Judging
from the character of many professors of religion, I do not admire religion.” I
said: “Now, suppose we went to an artist in the city of Rome, and while in his
gallery asked him, ‘What is the art of painting?’ would he take us out to a low
alley, and show us the mere daub of a pretender at painting? or would he take
us into the corridors, and show us the Rubens and the Raphaels and the Michael
Angelos? When we asked him ‘What is the art of painting?’ he would point to the
works of these great masters, and say, ‘This is painting!’ Now, you propose to
find the mere caricatures of religion, to seek that which is the mere pretension
of a holy life, and you call that religion. I point you to the magnificent men
and women whom this Gospel has blessed and lifted and crowned. Look at the
masterpieces of Divine grace if you want to know what religion is.” (T. De
Witt Talmage.)
Christianity a holy religion
Dr. Mason Good, when arguing with a young infidel scoffer, well
put the old error of making the faults of professors the fault of their
profession. “Did you
ever know an uproar made because an infidel had gone astray from the paths of
morality?” The young man admitted that he had not. “Then you allow Christianity
to be a holy religion by expecting its professors to be holy; and thus, by your
very scoffing, you pay it the very
highest compliment in your power.” (Weekly Pulpit.)
Verses 14-25
2 Samuel 12:14-25
The child also that is born unto thee shall surely die.
Great troubles following great transgressions
David became a backslider. Men sometimes speak, not of David’s
great sins, but of his great sin, as if he were guilty of only one flagrant
transgression. Such language is lenient at the expense of truth. A great sin
seldom stands altogether alone. It is most frequently found in the midst of
kindred company, like a high Alpine peak--a region of desolation and death,
surrounded by other desolate peaks only a little lower than itself. In David’s
case it was not one monster transgression, but several which lifted themselves
in colossal defiance of God’s law. The offender against man and God might
plead, that at first he was swept into transgression by a sudden gust of
passion; but he could not urge any such extenuation of his sins when he tempted
Uriah to drunkenness; when he sent the patriotic soldier back to the camp with
a letter containing a plan whereby his fidelity and courage might be taken advantage
of to accomplish his destruction; and when he used his kingly power in
commanding Joab to help him in this murderous policy. There are few things in
history more appalling than the awful completeness of David’s transgressions.
Having brought himself into difficulties by his crime, he grappled with the
difficulties with a masterful energy, and a terrible recklessness, as if he
would shrink from nothing and spare nobody, in his endeavour to hide his own
shame. The ravages made by sin in his nature, in a short season, were
incredibly great. How utterly unlike himself David was when he tried to cover
his delight at Uriah’s death with canting words about the chances of war and
the duty of resignation! What a pitiable pretence it was to send a message to
Joab, exhorting him not to be too much distressed and discouraged by the
calamity which had befallen the army. Can this be David? Is this what sin does
with a man when he suffers it to have place and power in his heart? The sight
of such havoc wrought in one who was a king amongst the great and good, might
well dim the brightness and disturb the joy of heaven itself. Our present
object is not to set forth either the repentance or the forgiveness of David,
but to show that, though he was penitent and pardoned, he sustained great loss
and damage by reason of his sins. Punishment for his sin preceded his penitence
and forgiveness. For a whole year David remained in that strangest greatest
guilt of all an unconsciousness of guilt. His spiritual sensibilities were so deadened
he did not
imagine there was any reference to him in the story Nathan told. With great
beams in both his own eyes, he was yet determined to put another man to death
for having a mote in one of his. While David was forgetting his transgressions
God was setting them in the light of His countenance--the light that most
reveals the sinfulness of sin. When at length David acknowledged his sins, and
cried for mercy, he was met by God with wondrous grace. The promptness of the
pardon proves that God does, indeed, delight in mercy. As in the case of the
returning prodigal, David was scarcely allowed to finish his confession before
the prophet exclaimed: “The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not
die.” What we say of fire or water might have been truly said of Joab, David’s
commander-in-chief. He was a good servant, but a bad master. One of the evil
results of the sins in the matter of Uriah was that it changed the position of
Joab. Henceforth he was more like David’s master than David’s servant. For the
sake of his dignity and honour and peace it was of first importance that the
King should have full control over his impulsive and unscrupulous general; but
how could he retain that control after the scene in front of the walls of
Rabbah? From the moment that fatal letter was put into Joab’s hand he must have
felt that David was utterly in his power. What a secret for a servant to
possess concerning his master! A proper control over Joab could not have been
the only power David lost through his sins. The power of rebuke was most
essential to him. As a father, how much need there was for him to use it over
his subjects; and, as a prophet, what need for him to use it in the Church!
But, when he sinned so fearfully, he must have sinned away well-nigh all his
force for rebuking others. We learn from several Psalms that David suffered
much from slander. He was a successful man, and his success excited envy, and
envy gave birth to calumny. Hence we hear him complaining of false accusations,
and appealing from the aspersions of men to the judgment of God. It is not
possible to fix the dates of all the Psalms in which he refers to these
slanders, but we may be sure he was likely to suffer most from this cause after
his backslidings. This would be especially true of such calumnies as those of
which he complains so piteously in the forty-first Psalm. David prayed for
pardon, for purity, and for a restoration of spiritual joy. It does not appear
that this side the grave he received a large answer to the last request. Traces
of the mischief which had been wrought were visible down to the latest hour of
life. The splendour of his reputation and the exulting gladness of his spirit
were never fully recovered. It was impossible, for, though God had forgiven,
David could not forget. The life-long memory of his sins must have been a
lifelong trouble. The more he realised that God had forgiven him the less he
could forgive himself. It mattered not in what fair scenes and prosperous
circumstances he was placed, his thoughts would be travelling back to that dark
and doleful region, and fetching thence materials for present gloom and grief.
(C. Vince.)
Divine correction consistent with Divine forgiveness
True excellence consists not so much in the singular display of
one or more commendable dispositions, as in the combined and duly regulated
exercise of the whole range of moral perfections. Here it is that the
superlative excellence of the Divine character is discovered; and here is
detected the imperfection by which the brightest specimens of human excellence
are still marked. How difficult is it for man to combine a decided and
appropriate expression of his dis, approbation of the crime with that
forbearance and mercy which, on many grounds, may be due to the criminal. Stern
severity which exaggerates the real nature of the error, and entirely overlooks
the avowed and apparently sincere contrition of the offender, too often usurps
the name and place of just and necessary correction. While, on the other hand,
a weak and mistaken tenderness sometimes so far relaxes all correction as to
appear like connivance at what is evil, and to leave it after all matter of
just suspicion how far the conduct in question is regarded as really deserving
condemnation. Here, as in every case, the Divine conduct exhibits a pattern
which should ever be kept in mind, and to which our own should, as nearly as
possible, be conformed; justice, holiness, and mercy, are all shown in
harmonious exercise.
I. The repentance
and pardon of David.
1. The sincerity of David’s repentance.
2. The assurance he received of Divine forgiveness: “the Lord also
hath put away thy sin, thou shalt not die.” This may be intended to assure him
of deliverance from the legal demerit of his crime.
3. The close and intimate connection between the repentance and
forgiveness of David. Here two remarks suggest themselves
II. The afflictive
discipline to which David was notwithstanding subjected (2 Samuel 12:14.)
1. The nature of the visitations he endured. In the manner in which
God corrects his erring people, there is often so close an analogy between the
sin and the punishment as cannot fail to make the connection evident to
themselves, and to all aware of the real state of the case. This remark is
strikingly illustrated in the case before us.
2. The reason assigned for the infliction of these visitations: by
such conduct he “had given great occasion to the enemies of God to blaspheme.”
3. The consistency of these visitations with the full and free
forgiveness of which David had been assured. That these points are consistent
with each other we must feel assured, from the fact that God has connected
them. God still corrects, even where he pardons his backsliding people.
Forgiveness not impunity
I. Forgiveness
does not mean impunity. A man may be pardoned, and nevertheless he may be
punished. God forgave David, yet bereaved him. And this no exceptional case;
simply a notable illustration of a general law. In all ages sins of penitent
men are forgiven them; in all ages penitent men have to endure the punitive
results of the very sins that have been forgiven. Whatsoever they sow, that
they reap, however bitterly they may repent having mingled tares with the
wheat. Abraham sinning by taking Hagar to wife--sin forgiven, but strife and
discord in his tent. Jacob deceived his father, defrauded his brother. God
forgave him his sin, yet he had to eat bitter fruit of it through long years of
labour, and sorrow, and fear. Peter sinned: was forgiven; yet had to go softly
many days, to brook the pain of the thrice-repeated reproach, to find his sin
recoiling upon him years afterwards (Antioch).
II. The meaning and
mercy of punishment. One very obvious reason why God does not detach their
natural results from our sins even when He forgives them is that to do so would
necessitate an incessant display of miraculous power, before which all law and
certainty would be swept away, and our very conceptions of right and wrong
confused. But though this familiar argument may prove a sufficient answer to
reason, it has no balm for a wounded heart. To reach that we must consider the
moral effects of punishment on the individual soul. And here David’s experience
will help us much. For it teaches how--
1. Punishment deepens both our sense of sin and our hatred of it.
Before punishment David not conscious of his transgression, nor alive to its
enormity, tie was blind to personal application of Nathan’s parable until the
prophet turned upon him. But then how deep his shame! Stands self-revealed,
self-condemned. And this deep sense of personal guilt is a common and wholesome
result of punishment.
2. Punishment deepens self-distrust and reliance upon God. David, who
was but now so hot in his indignation against the wicked rich man, in whom he
recognised no likeness to himself, finds that so far from having any right to
judge or rule others, he has misjudged, he cannot rule himself. Now that he
suffers the due reward of his deeds, he utterly distrusts himself; he can think
no good thought, do no good act, offer no acceptable worship, save as God
inspires and sustains him.
3. Punishment puts our repentance to the proof. It was not simply
fear of judgment which led David to exhaust himself in confessions of guilt. It
was rather shame and agony of finding himself out. Not even his child was
foremost in his thoughts. It is not so much as mentioned in the psalm in which
he poured out his soul before God. What touched him much was the awful
estrangement which had crept in between his wilt and God’s. It was this which
lie sought God to remove. Hence, when the child dies, David bows to the will of
God. His penitence is put to a decisive test, and surmounts it. (Samuel Cox,
D. D.)
Sin penalties
God is a God of infinite mercy to forgive sin, and vet “He will by
no means clear the guilty.” He will surely visit iniquity by fixing its
consequences upon the sinner, and even also upon others for his sake. But,
stated in this way, the principle is not readily acceptable to us. The
righteousness of it does not tie upon the face of it. If God forgives the sin,
why does He not also clear away the punishments and all the evil consequences
of it? Surely, we say, “The way of the Lord is not equal.”
I. Sin penalties
that can be removed, such as rest on the soul. Sin has a twofold aspect, and
calls for a twofold treatment by God. Every sin is both an act of transgression
and a spirit of self-will. It has a sphere related to the body, and a sphere
related to the soul. What, then, are the soul penalties which attach to sin
inevitably? They are put into this expressive sentence, “The soul that sinneth
it shall die.” But this soul-penalty of sin can be remitted, put away,
forgiven, lifted off the soul for ever. “The Lord hath put away thy sin, thou
shalt not die.” The true sphere of the atonement made by our Lord Jesus, in His
life and in His cross, is precisely this sphere of soul-penalties.
II. Sin penalties
that cannot now be removed--penalties and consequences of sin coming on our
bodies. In the Divine wisdom and goodness man’s life on the earth has been
arranged under certain conditions and with certain limitations.
1. Men and women are set together in family and social circles, so
that the actions of any one of them shall affect the rest of them for good or
for evil. No man is permitted to stand alone, the results of his conduct must
reach to the good, or the misery, of somebody else.
2. God has appointed the order in which family and social life should
be arranged and conducted. Keep the Divine order, and all will go well with us.
3. Sin, in its outward, aspect, is the infringement of this Divine
order, the breaking of these gracious and holy laws.
4. To every such infringement a natural penalty is attached.
“Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.” The redemption provided in
Christ Jesus does not immediately touch these natural penalties of sin. The
forgiving God “by no means clears the guilty.” The child of the drunkard or the
sensualist will not have the spirit of drink or of passion taken out of him,
nor will he be renewed from his physical deterioration, because his father
becomes a Christian. Consequences of sin stretch on until they get altogether
beyond hand-grasp. Thick and heavy were the penalties which David had to pay for
his sin. Can we vindicate the ways of God in this? Open two points.
The stripes of the children of men
I. God’s
chastisements. Bathsheba’s little child was very sick; it was the child of sin
and shame, but the parents hung over it; for seven days the mother watched it,
and the father fasted and lay on the earth. Two years after one of his sons
treated his sister as David had treated Uriah’s wife. They say a man never
hears his own voice till it comes back to him from the phonograph, Certainly a
man never sees the worst of himself until it reappears in his child. When
presently Absalom’s rebellion broke out it received the immediate sanction and
adherence of David’s most trusty counsellor, whose advice was like the oracle
of God. What swept Ahithophel into the ranks of that great conspiracy? The
reason is given in the genealogical tables, which show that he was the
grandfather of Bathsheba, and that his son Eliam was the comrade and friend of
Uriah. The most disastrous and terrible blow of all was the rebellion of
Absalom. Such were the strokes of the Father’s rod that fell thick and fast
upon his child. They appeared to emanate from the malignity and hate of man;
but David looked into their very heart, and knew that the cup which they held
to his lips had been mixed by heaven, and were not the punishment of a Judge,
but the chastisement of a Father.
II. God’s
alleviations. They came in many ways. The bitter hour of trial revealed a love
on the part of his adherents to which the old king may have become a little
oblivious. It was as though God stooped over that stricken soul, and as the
blows of the rod cut long furrows in the sufferer’s back, the balm of Gilead
was poured into the gaping wounds. Voices spoke more gently; hands touched his
more softly; pitiful compassion rained tender assurances about his path; and,
better than all, the bright-harnessed angels of God’s protection encamped about
his path and his lying-down.
III. God’s
deliverance. The raw troops that Absalom had so frostily mustered were unable
to stand the shock of David’s veterans, and fled. Absalom himself was
despatched by the ruthless Joab, as he swayed from the arms of the huge
terebinth. The pendulum of the people’s loyalty swang back to its old
allegiance, and they eagerly contended for the honour of bringing the king
back. Many were the afflictions of God’s servant, but out of them all he was
delivered. When he had learnt the lesson, the rod was stayed. Thus always--the
rod, the stripes, the chastisements; but amid all the love of God, carrying out
His redemptive purpose, never hasting, never resting, never forgetting, but
making all things work together till the evil is eliminated, and the soul
purged. Then the after-glow of blessing, the calm ending of the life in a
serene sundown. (F. B. Meyer, B. A.)
Sin and its consequences
1. The permission of evil is an insoluble mystery. Perhaps the only
light which ran be thrown upon it is to be found in the words of St. Augustine,
“God has judged it better to work good out of evil than to allow no evil. For
seeing that He is supremely Good. He would in no way permit evil to be in His
works, unless He were also Almighty as well as Good, so as to be able to bring
good even out of evil. In dealing with evil, He manifests His perfections--as
the light of the sun becomes the rainbow with its beauteous colours, when it
falls on the dark, dissolving cloud. The wisdom of God, for instance, becomes
visible in the way in which, notwithstanding the interruptions and collisions
of sin, His purposes are worked out. “Any one can be a pilot on a calm sea.”
2. Our thoughts are directed to a very remarkable instance of the
permission of evil. It is remarkable, when we remember the description of David
from the lips of Samuel, “The Lard hath sought Him a man after His own heart.”
Some take the expression in its widest extent--one who is in mind and will
clearly and fully conformed to the mind and will of God; whilst others seem to interpret it of one
trait in David’s character--that of benevolence towards enemies. Perhaps the
incongruity of the Divine estimate of David and his subsequent conduct is
confined to his fall.
I. The punishment
for sin.
1. It is first to be noticed that the sin itself had been pardoned.
The history shows us that pardoned sin may have penal consequences. The removal
of the guilt (culpa) does not necessarily include the removal of the penalty
(poena). David was pardoned for the breaches of the sixth and seventh
commandments, although the guilt of sin is not transferable (Ezekiel 18:20), the penalty is. The
death, which was the penalty of David’s sin, was inflicted on the child.
3. Then the necessity for the punishment by the death of the child is
traced by the Prophet not only to the intrinsic evil of the sin, but to the
accidental aggravation which belonged to it from the circumstance that it was
the king and prophet who had done this thing, and therefore had caused grievous
scandal--“had given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme” (2 Samuel 12:14).
4. In this instance, the terrible list of calamities which were to
befall David and his house are distinctly traceable to David’s sin. They were
its punishment and medicine. Suffering was necessary to show the Divine
abhorrence of evil; and the Jew, who ever regarded sin and suffering as closely
linked together, would be quick to read the signs of Divine wrath.
II. How did david
bear it?
1. The child is “very sick.” For seven days the glow of life still
lingered in the wasting form, and the king fasted and prayed, and fell
prostrate upon the earth before his God, neither changing his apparel nor
eating bread. This is not only a picture of natural affection, but also of
evident anxiety for a sign that the wrath of God was stayed. Whilst we have
here what Paley calls the “naturalness” of Scripture, we have also the penitent
seeking a mark of restoration to Divine favour.
2. “While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept,” etc. It has
been asked whether it was right to pray for the continuance of the child’s
life, after the Prophet’s declaration that the child should “surely die.” In
other words, whether David was trying to change or bend the Divine will into
conformity with his will, after that will had been declared. Either David
believed the wards of the Prophet, or he did not. If he believed them, and yet
prayed, that would be madness; if he believed not, that would be sin
(Tostatus). The answer seems to be this: David regarded the declaration of
Nathan as minatory. He thought to avert its accomplishment by prayer and
fasting and tears. He was not certain about the Divine will: and God’s
threatenings, like His promises, are conditional.
III. What was his
stay?
1. Belief in another world. “I shall go to him.”
2. No mock immortality could be this--the survival of matter, of
fame, of ideas, of race, or of some vague, shadowy existence--a transient
air-people.” But a solid belief in a continuance of our personal existence, and
in future personal recognition--“I shall go to him”--that alone could sustain
the mourner in the presence of death.
IV. Lessons:--
1. Here is an instance of the terrible truth, “Be sure your sin will
find you out” (Numbers 32:23), and that temporal
penalties follow upon forgiven sin. Hate sin.
2. Let the sinner seek, as David, by prayer and self-affliction and
tears, to avert sin’s penalties, until there is some irrevocable manifestation
of the Divine will.
3. Imitate His constant conformity, when that will has been made
clearly known.
4. Let the hope “full of immortality” be our stay in our dark hour.
No “counterfeit immortality,” but the continuance, in s higher sphere of being,
of the conscious, complete, personal existence, now certified by Christ’s
resurrection. This can give patience in suffering and solace in death. (The
Thinker.)
Verse 22-23
2 Samuel 12:22-23
While the child was yet alive I fasted and wept.
The loss of children
I. His affliction
was the death of his child. The death of a child is by no means an uncommon
event. If our offspring are spared, and appear like olive plants around our
table, we ought to be thankful, and to rejoice; yet to rejoice with trembling.
When we reflect on the tenderness of their frame, and consider to how many
accidents and diseases they are liable; and that many of their earliest,
complaints cannot be perfectly ascertained, and may be injured by the very
means employed for their relief--the wonder is that they ever reach maturity.
The death of David’s child was predicted by Nathan, and was the consequence of
the father’s sin. “The landlord,” says an old writer, “may distrain on any part
of the premises he chooses.” We would rather say that there are many cases in
which he requires us to walk by faith, and not by sight: that he does all
things well, even when clouds and darkness are round about him; we would say
that he indemnified this child by taking it to himself--while the father was
punished, and suffered more relatively than if he had died himself.
II. The behaviour
of David with regard to the affliction.
1. It takes in prayer “He besought God for the child.” Prayer is
always proper: but how seasonable, how soothing, how sanctifying, in the day of
trouble! Blessed resource and refuge! may we always make use of thee.
2. He also humbled himself: “He fasted, and went in, and lay all
night upon the earth.” Much of David’s distress arose from reflection on his
sin: his grief was the grief not only of affliction but of penitence.
III. He deemed the
event uncertain. It is obvious that he did not consider the threatening
as absolute and irreversible. He knew that many things had been denounced
conditionally; and he knew also that the goodness of God was beyond all his
thoughts. But what led him to assuage his grief?
1. Continued grief was unavailing. “Now he is dead, wherefore should
I fast? Can I bring him back again?”
2. He contemplates his own death as certain: “I shall go to him.” By
this he intends the grave: and this part of our subject is common to all
mankind.
3. He expects to follow his child not only into the grave, but into
glory; and anticipates a renewed union with him in heaven. This was
unquestionably David’s case.
The philosophy of death
A most beautiful picture, and representation of parental sorrow
and of rational, manly piety.
I. A little child
suffering on account of the sin of its father. Now, I do not mean to say that
the cause of every little infant’s suffering is the same as this. This is a
peculiar case. But that little children do suffer as a consequence of their
parents’ sin is a simple matter of fact. By immorality and sin some parents
ruin their health, and their constitution, and thus plant those seeds of
disease and death which manifest themselves in their children: their offspring
may suffer, agonize, and die in their infancy because of their parents’ sin. In
a great many other ways also, parents may so modify the condition under which
their children live as to cause them much suffering and premature death. The
sin of the father is visited upon the child. The Bible does not make that fact.
If there was no Bible the fact would be the same. It is affirmed by the Bible
of Nature. If you get rid of the Book, you have the world, and you must read
and interpret it. You must just do the best you can with the mystery. I do not
know what you will do with it, but there it is. Sin introduced death, and death
passed upon all men. But, observe, while the Bible thus associates death as a
general fact with sin, it is not with the sin of an individual, not with the
sin of the immediate parent of the child, but because of the sin of the first
progenitor, because of that transgression which occurred at the commencement of
the race.
II. The picture of
a father deeply affected through the suffering and illness of his child; and in
this case parental grief was aggravated and increased by the consciousness
which David must have felt that the stroke had fallen upon the child directly
from the hand of God on his account. Children may, and do die, as we know on
account of the sins of their parents, but in the great majority of cases this
is not the fact; you have net your deep sorrow aggravated by the thought that
the stroke has fallen upon your child directly and immediately as a punishment
for your sin. David, with that large heart of his, with that paternal
temperament,--it is always a temperament of sensibility--and his devotion and
love to God, experienced an aggravated sense of remorse on account of his sin.
He would, doubtless, feel the most acute suffering.
III. An afflicted,
good man, earnestly praying to God, but praying in vain. The circumstances were
desperate. The sentence had gone forth--the prophet had spoken the word, that
the child should die on account of the sin of its father--but he thought that
his sin would be forgiven, and that the child might possibly live. We may pray
earnestly unto God for a certain blessing, or to be saved from some special
suffering, but our prayer may not be answered because God sees it to be
necessary to inflict that against which we cry to be delivered. But we have
authority here for pleading earnestly under the most hopeless circumstance,
that affliction may be removed; but we are to remember that God has reasons for
His conduct.
IV. The conduct of
David; his behaviour after the matter was determined. There are two or three
points in this explanation of David which we shall do well to look at.
1. In the first place yon see how he distinguished between the
possible and the certain. While the child lived he fasted and prayed, because
he thought that God would possibly have mercy and spare the child. But when God
had determined the matter, then it was inevitable; another class of feelings
was then to be brought into play; another class of duties was then to be
fulfilled.
2. But David distinguished the next place between means and ends. He
fasted and prayed, and his tears flowed as lie laid upon the earth, he washed
not his face, anointed not his head, and changed not his garments. His
condition was becoming more and more sordid, because his grief was was so
intense. His fasting was continued in order that it might agree with the inward
state of his mind, and sustain his devotion.
3. David distinguished between the proper time for prayer, and the
proper world to which it has application, This idea is suggested to us--that he
did not pray for the child after it was dead--for the repose of the soul of the
child--that he did not follow the soul into the next world to make it a subject
of prayer.
4. David distinguished between miracle and mercy. He distinguished
between irrational expectations and religious hope. He could not pray for the
child after it was dead, because he did not expect God to work a miracle and
give him the child back again. No; “He will not come back to me;” but he did
indulge a religious hope; a hope of mercy--“I shall go to him, but he shall not
return to me.” (T. Binney.)
On the death of children
I. The grounds of
David’s resignation. “Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he
shall not return to me.” The good Psalmist had bowed himself before the Most
High God, and besought Him right humbly for his child. Death had signified it
to be the Divine pleasure, that the child should be taken to another state of
existence. To resist would be vain; to repine would be fruitless. It is true it
would be a melancholy fortitude which these reflections produce if it were not
strengthened and cheered by another consideration. Though fate forbade David to
call back to his embrace his departed child, was lie separated from him for
ever? Verily, to the tender heart of the affectionate king, the thought had been
insupportable, But he was consoled with far other expectations. The spark of
being which the Almighty had kindled in his child was kindled to burn for ever.
The Messiah had consecrated it to immortality. “I shall go to him,” though “he
shall not return to me.” Even in the prospect of being joined to our departed
friends in the noiseless tomb, nature finds a solace, suited to the gloomy
state of her feelings in the hour of her bereavement.
II. The manner in
which it manifested itself. Behold, he, who careless of attire lay weeping on
the earth, arises and washes himself, and changes his apparel. He, whom no
consideration could draw from the place, where his child lay sick, goes forth
spontaneously “into the house of the Lord, and worships.” He, whom the elders
of his house had entreated in vain to receive some sustenance, himself gives
orders to set on bread. He, whom his servants “feared to tell that the child
was dead,” leaves their astonished minds below his fortitude, and discourses
with them on the reasonableness and propriety of submission. How majestic in
his affliction! What greatness and peace in resignation like this! It is worthy
of particular observation that the first step of the Psalmist in the day of his
sorrow is to “the house of the Lord.” It is in the holiness of the sanctuary
that that “beauty” is found, which the Prophet was to give instead of “ashes,”
to those “who mourned in Zion.” It is in the sacred vessels of the temple that
the “oil of joy” is kept, which God’s people are to have “for mourning.” And
here, we trust, when we are assembled “in His name,” Immanuel is “in the
midst of us,” who furnishes from the wardrobe of heaven “the garment of praise
for the spirit of heaviness.” (Bishop Dehon.)
Parental sorrow and parental submission
Those who distinguish themselves by sin God will distinguish by
suffering. David would not have been so conspicuous a mourner if he had not
been so conspicuous in his rebellion against the Lord. His chastisement was
therefore just and compassionate, and though the form it took was common, it
was to him one of the most painful he could have endured.
I. The grief of a
pious parent over his dying child. Parental grief suggests to us:--
1. The considerations which lead us to desire the lives of our
children. Among these are
2. His faith in the power and mercy of God. He was assured that power
belonged to God, and that if he would he could recover the child.
3. His confidence in the efficacy of prayer is also exhibited, for
prayer was the chief employment when he withdrew--“David, therefore, besought
God for the child; and David fasted, and went in and lay all night upon the
earth.” Fasting was united to prayer, and probably sackcloth. If in such eases
the good effects of prayer have been seen, though the main object may have been
denied; how are we encouraged in all those instances in which no declaration of
discouragement or of absolute denial has been expressed! “Is any among
you afflicted? let him pray.” You cannot lose, but you may, you must gain.
II. A pious
parent’s submission, now that his child was dead. “But now he is dead,
wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he
shall not return to me.” This submission is still more significantly expressed
in the narrative. So great was David’s grief during the illness of the child
that the servants feared to inform him of its death; but when he ascertained
that he was dead “he arose from the earth and washed, and changed his apparel,
and came into the house of the Lord and worshipped; then he came to his own
house, and when he required they set bread before him, and he did eat.” When
the servants expressed their surprise at this conduct, he condescended to
explain it, as in the text. His submission would be promoted by the fact.
1. That the providence was of God. What can be better than the will
of God; so wise, gracious, and holy? Let our hopes perish, but let His will be
supreme.
2. That the child is taken away from the evil to come is calculated
to promote the submission of a bereaved parent.
3. The inutility of grief is another consideration. “But now he is
dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him,
but he shall not return to me.” He had besought the Lord to spare him; but he
had now taken him, and neither prayer nor grief would avail, for the life that
was taken away could not be recovered.
4. The future happiness of his child tends greatly to promote the
submission of a pious parent when bereaved. And of this David appears to have
had assurance. “I shall go to him.” This, first of all, implies David’s belief
that the child still existed; consequently, that, the soul of infants are
immortal;” and, as we know, he expected to be happy himself, and go to his
child, he already considered it as possessing a happy immortality.
5. The thought of going to his child at death tended also to quiet
the mind of David. “I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.” Heaven
is presented ill a variety of attractive aspects. To be with Christ, to behold
His glory, and be like Him, constitute an idea of blessedness sufficient to
enrapture the most exalted piety; but it is sometimes invested with
associations suited to our earthly predilections. Hence we are told of “the
things which are above;” “the spirits of just men made perfect;” and of sitting
down with “Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” The exposure of children to death should
prevent our cherishing toward them an overfond attachment, and should exercise
a just influence over our affections. We may and must Jove them, but only as
creatures. They must not be idols; must not rival in our regard that God who
must ever be its supreme object. The same consideration should lead us, at the
earliest dawn of reason, to attempt to instruct our children piously. Oh! had
we known how soon that infant mind would have opened to the light and glory of
the upper world, how would our assiduity in this respect have been quickened!
We cannot too early fit them either for earth or heaven. How adapted to promote
the eternal welfare of parents is the loss of children! Our earthly affections
may, through the sanctifying grace of God, aid us in cultivating spirituality
of mind. “Set your affection on things above” is an exhortation which
powerfully recommends itself to such. “Lord, by these things men live, and
these things are the life of our spirits.” Young children should be made to
consider their liability to death, whatever their health or strength, for it
often happens that diseases incident to childhood act more powerfully on a
robust than a slender frame. Little children, you are young and healthy, but
you may soon die. Do not too certainly calculate on a long life. (S.
Hillyard.)
David’s conduct in affliction
The point of transition from the state of awful impenitence in
which David had for so long a period continued, to a consciousness of his true
position and to contrition for his crime, resembled the crisis of some perilous
malady. The sovereign mercy and free grace of a faithful God brought him safely
through the trial; and the result was “life from the dead.” A well known, but
not a less marvellous phenomenon of the natural world may serve to shadow forth
the further stage of experience involved in David’s complete restoration to a
state of grace. When the blasts of winter have set in, and the sound of its
unkindly storms sweeps over the listening ear--when mist and fog cloud the
cheering light, and intercept the genial warmth of heaven--who has not felt it
a sad and sickening task, to trace the change which even the fairest earthly
paradise will present, as compared with its blooming spring, its fragrant
summer, or its fruitful autumn? We walk amidst the drear and silent scene, like
lingering mourners in nature’s cemetery. The melody of the woods is hushed; the
woods themselves are dressed in funeral garb; the streams hurry black and
moodily through the bare and blighted scene--or else, arrested in their course,
are held frost-bound in the chain of winter. Days, weeks, months pass on, and
still the landscape frowns in sackcloth, amidst the gloom and chill and death
which seems unalterable and fixed. At length there comes a wondrous and more
than magic transformation. The sun walks forth in glory from his heavenly
tabernacle, “as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a
strong man to run a race. His going forth is from the end of the heaven, and
his circuit unto the ends of it: and there is nothing hid from the heat
thereof.” Such and so great--yea, rather, greater and far more blessed--was the
revival wrought in the soul of David, after the beams of Divine grace had once
more visited it with light, and love. The streams of godly sorrow were
unloosed, and the waters flowed: “the fruits of the Spirit,” which seem to have
sprung from a ground “nigh unto cursing,” appear in all their former beauty;
the Word of the Lord had gone forth with power. The passage immediately before
us contains the penitent monarch’s own account of that which, in the eyes of
his sympathising servants, appeared mysterious and paradoxical. The explanation
relates to two distinct periods; and accordingly, our consideration of it will
lead us to notice David’s conduct and the ground thereof.
I. During the
sickness.
1. In the first place, we read in the sixteenth verse that “David
besought God for the child.” He carried the burden which oppressed him, the
grief which consumed him, to that merciful God who had so often heard the voice
of his weeping. Instead of seeking many physicians, he repaired at once to the
all-wise and all-powerful Physician; so that in his case was anticipated the
apostolic prescription--“Is any afflicted? let him pray.”
2. It is further related that he accompanied his supplications with
deep humiliation: “he fasted, and went in, and lay all night upon the earth.”
Regarding his trial as a chastisement for his transgression, he “humbled
himself under the mighty hand of God.” Was there anything surprising in all
this? King though he was, yet as a sinner we feel that the posture he assumed
became him. It was meet to lay aside the crown of pure gold which God had put
upon his head, and to exchange his soft raiment for sackcloth. One of the most
painful and mischievous consequences of wilful sin is the difficulty it
occasions in even the awakened and anxious soul to realise the love and trust
in the confidence of our compassionate God. A sense of ill desert awakens the
suspicion that He is “altogether such an one as ourselves;” and, by checking
the hope of success, too often silences the voice of prayer. If David thus
clung to hope, and persevered in wrestling with God for a temporal blessing, on
a mere peradventure of success, how much rather should you, when you would
trove the pardon of your guilt, the conversion of your heart, or the victory
over your be, setting sins, cast yourselves upon His mercy, plead His promises,
and resolve that you “will not let Him go, except He bless you!” In suing for
these things you know that you are asking according to His will, and that He is
“far more ready to hear than you to pray;” you honour Him most when you crave
the most; you please Him best when you are most importunate.
II. His conduct,
and the grounds of it, after the child was dead. It is a genuine touch of
nature, which represents that “when David saw that his servants whispered,
David perceived that the child was dead.” His parental fears and tender
solicitude anticipated the tidings which their silence communicated. And now
begins the seeming paradox, which caused his servants so much perplexity.
Though our immediate object in dwelling upon this passage is to present the
portraiture of a genuine penitent, yet it seems profitable, in passing, to
gather lessons of counsel and encouragement for that spirit which is almost
sure to form a part in every audience--the spirit of the mourner. The Lord’s children
are often robbed of a noble opportunity of glorifying Him, and of much previous
advantage to themselves, by the tyranny of that cruel custom which would have
it believed that there is something indelicate when the bereaved is immediately
seen in the Lord’s house. The case, I admit, is quite conceivable in which,
from weakness of body, tenderness of spirit, or want of self-control, the
mourner may be really unfit to take part in the outward communion of saint.
Nothing would be gained by any external violence done to the over-wrought
system; but I refer to that artificial code of pharisaic decency which renders
it incumbent on the bereaved mourner to abstain from the comfort and the
consolation with which his Father’s house abounds. I do think it an affectation
of delicacy of sentiment which sound reason and genuine piety should force us
to discountenance. (C. F. Childe, M. A.)
Salvation of infants
Millions of the descendants of Adam expire in infancy. They
just open their eyes upon the world, excite the hopes and affections of their
parents, and then are convulsed, and in agonies sink into the tomb. While
fastening our eyes on their little corpses, or hanging over their graves, there
are two questions which we naturally ask: Why did these infants die? and, what
is their present state? Unassisted reason is equally unable to decide what is
the state in which the spirits of infants enter at their death. The
universality of the salvation has been denied, not only by individuals of
distinguished reputation, but also by whole churches. And, besides, in those
who embrace the doctrine that I am about to establish, I have generally found
that their belief was rather the expression of their wishes and their hopes
than the result of a cool examination of the testimony of God. And nothing is
more common than to hear even Christian parents defending infant salvation on
grounds inconsistent with the Scriptures; on principles that oppose not only
the doctrine of original sin which is so plainly taught in the word of of God,
but that also overtook the absolute necessity of the atonement and sacrifice of
Jesus for the salvation of every child of Adam. It is in perfect consistence
with both these doctrines that we maintain that God has ordained to confer
eternal life on all whom he has ordained to remove from this world before they
arrived at the years of discretion. The following are the chief sources of
argument in defence of this doctrine:--
1. The interesting history of which our text forms a part.
2. The conduct and discourses of the Saviour with regard to infants.
3. The attributes of God and His relation to infants.
4. The declarations that He has made concerning them.
5. The nature and extent of redemption through Christ.
6. The nature and design of the ordinance of baptism.
7. The mode of procedure at the final judgment.
8. The nature of the torments of hell.
9. The nature of the heavenly felicity, and the grounds of its
conferment upon men.
I must present to you a few inferences from this subject.
1. Learn from it the preciousness of the Word of God.
2. Praise God for His unutterable grace. This is the occupation of
these departed infants.
3. Bereaved parent, rejoice in the dignity and elevation of thy,
child. To have this child in heaven is greater cause of triumph than if he
swayed the sceptre over prostrate nations.
4. Bereaved: parent, art thou ready to meet this child? In thy name
he has taken possession of heaven? Art thou following the Redeemer, and living
devoted to him?
5. And: you who have passed through the period of infancy, remember,
that to your salvation are required explicit acts of faith in Jesus, and lives
devoted to him. (H. Kollock, D. D.)
Uselessness of unavailing regret
One of Kant’s biographers dilates upon what he considers a
singular feature in the Konigsberg philosopher’s; way of expressing his
sympathy with his friends in sickness. So long as the danger was imminent he is said to have
testified a restless anxiety, making perpetual inquiries, waiting with
impatience for the crisis, and sometimes unable to pursue his customary labours
from agitation of mind. But no sooner was the patient’s death announced than he
recovered his composure and assumed an air of stern tranquillity, almost of
indifference.” (Francis Jacox.)
Verse 23
2 Samuel 12:23
I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.
Recognition of friends in heaven
The doctrine of our future meeting and recognition is intimated in
the earlier records of Scripture. We are told that Abraham was gathered to his
people, that Jacob was gathered to his people, that Moses was commanded to go
up to Mount Pisgah and be gathered to his people, as Aaron had died on Mount
Hot and was gathered to his people. It may be said that this was simply a
peculiar idiom of language signifying that they died. This, however, cannot be
the case, inasmuch as in some instances it is expressly said they died, and
then it is added, were “gathered to their fathers.” Nor does it mean that they
were buried with their fathers; for in several instances the phrase is employed
when they were interred at a distance Of hundreds of miles. Abraham was not
buried with his fathers. Moses was not buried with his fathers. Aaron was not
buried with his fathers. There would seem to be in the very heart of the
expression some recognition that the fathers were still in existence in some
state or other. As we advance to the New Testament we find that the twilight is
broadening into the perfect day. It is not merely that we are told this in so
many words. But it is that so many things are said which would not have been
said, unless the doctrine had been true. It forms so much of the very warp of
the teaching of our Saviour and His apostles. Like so many other doctrines, it
is implied where it is not expressed; and is all the more significantly taught
because it appears in this indirect manner. It is taught, for example, that in
eternity and in Heaven we shall retain our personal identity. Death does not
make us new men. It effects no change of personalities. By the aid of memory we
can realise the fact that we are the same we have ever been. The subtle, solemn
thread of consciousness binds together all the moments of our past life. We
must also remember another fact, and that is that the departed just are not
diffused through the universe, but are gathered in one place. It is where
Christ is. They are with the Lord. They see His face; they are like Him. And
they are not only with the Lord, but they are there in a family relation. We
read of the whole family in earth and Heaven. It is a general assembly and
church of the first-born; it is a well-ordered household. The saints are
brethren, with one Lord,
one faith, one baptism. Their Father is One. Now it is only needful to appreciate
fully this fact in order to see that recognition, mutual recognition, is
indispensable and inevitable. The saints will know at least that they are the
redeemed from among men. They will be distinguished from angels who never fell.
We do not dream that the spirits of the “just made perfect,” dwelling in our
Father’s house, will sit in silent reserve side by side; and as little do we
dream that their speech will never be concerned with the way by which the Lord
has led them. They will inspire each other with a more glowing fervour of
gratitude as they recount the history of their lives. Given--an eternity which
we are to spend in Heaven, a memory which recalls the past with minute and
infallible faithfulness, a gratitude quick and never-ending for all the mercies
which have followed us all the days of our life; given--too, the love of saint
for saint, a social fellowship closer and less reserved than even the most
intimate fellowships of earth, and even though at the beginning of our
celestial existence we knew not one of the innumerable throng, we should, with
the flowing ages, grow into each other’s knowledge; friend would find out
friend; parents would some day have the ecstasy of embracing their children,
partakers with them of a common salvation. You may be perplexed to know in what
manner those who will be so changed by the very fact of their not dwelling in
houses of clay will be able to recognise each other. Our whole earthly, human
life is the learning at one stage the how of what was a mystery to us at an
earlier stage. Who knows but that within the tenement of clay there are folded
up powers and capacities winch death is needed to release? The dull, creeping
chrysalis which you are in danger of treading beneath your feet contains secret
wings which one day will soar up into the heavens beyond your reach or sight;
and so we may have within us powers which are now imprisoned, and which will be
emancipated in the hour of death. And among these may be the power of seeing
spirits as well, or even better, than we can now see the bodies. There are,
moreover, passages in the New Testament which seem incapable of explanation,
except on the supposition of mutual recognition in Heaven. What, for example,
shall we make of the language of our Lord, “Many, I say unto you, shall come
from the east and the west, the north and the south, and shall sit down with
Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the Kingdom of Heaven?” If we sit down at the
same banquet of love with them, and yet know them not, why the distinct specification
which is here given of their names? Would our Saviour mock us with the promise
of giving us admission into an unknown company? His promises are not mockeries,
but assurances that shalt be verified to the full. When our Saviour was on the
Mount of Transfiguration there appeared unto Him Moses and Elias. What were the
circumstances which enabled the three apostles to identify these glorified
companions of our Lord we are not informed, but in some way or other they knew
them. And if there were mutual recognition between these prophets of God there
can surely be no reason for supposing that the same recognition may not subsist
among other spirits of the just made perfect. The apostle tells us that he
preaches Christ, “Warning every man, and teaching every man that he may present
every man perfect in Christ Jesus.” Again he says, “What is our hope, or joy,
or crown of rejoicing, are not even ye in the presence of the Lord Jesus at His
coming? for ye are our glory and joy.” Now, it would be impossible to find any
meaning in these words, except on the supposition that he would see and know
his converts at the last great day. And what meaning other than this of mutual
recognition can we extract from the words in which St. Paul pours the balm of
consolation into the souls of the Thessalonians who had lost their Christian
friends? “Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with
them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Then shall we be for ever with
the Lord; wherefore, comfort one another with these words.” You cannot for
moment imagine that we shall be in ignorance of each other in Heaven without
turning these words into mockery. (E: Mellor, D. D.)
The recognition of departed friends
If we part on earth shall we meet in Heaven? Two men are going to
London or New York, and, not having appointed a special moment and a special
place of meeting, they might wander about for months and years and never find
each other; and how is it possible that we are going to find our departed
friends in heaven when that city is larger than all the Londons and New Yorks
and Cantons on earth put together? St. John went up on a mount of inspiration,
and he, looked off upon that city, and he said, “Thousands and thousands.” Then
he went up on a higher altitude of inspiration, and he looked off again, and he
said, “Ten thousand times ten thousand.” Then he came on a greater height of
inspiration and he looked off and said, “A hundred and forty-four thousand and
thousands of thousands.” And then coming to a still greater height of
inspiration, he looked off again and he said, “a great multitude that no man
can number.” Now, how are we going to find our departed loved ones in such a
city as that, so vast, so infinite? Is this hope of meeting our departed
friends in heaven a whim, a guess, a falsity, or is it a granitic foundation on
which the soul may come and build a glorious hope? Now, when you are going to
build a ship, you want the best timber, you want good stanchions, and planks
and timber counter-knee, all of solid oak. You may build a ship out of lighter
material, and may get along very well while the sea is smooth; but when the
cyclone comes the ship will founder. And we may build a great many ideas of
heaven out of our own fancy, and they will do very well while everything is
smooth in life; but when the disasters of death come, and the hurricanes of the
last hour, then we shall want a theory of future recognition built out of the
solid oak of God’s Word.
1. Now this theory of future recognition is not so positively
asserted as it is implied; and you know that is the strongest kind of
affirmation. Your friends come from travel in foreign parts; they tell you
there is such a place as St. Petersburg, or Madras, or New York, or San
Francisco. They do not begin by telling you of the existence of these cities;
but all their conversation implies the existence of these cities. And so the
doctrine of future recognition in the Bible is not so positively asserted as it
is implied. What did David mean when he said in my text. “I shall go to him?”
What was the use of going to his child if he would not know him?
2. In addition to the Bible argument, there are other reasons. I
admit this theory of future acquaintanceship in heaven, because the rejection
of it implies the entire obliteration of our memory. John Evans, the quaint
Scotch minister, was seated in his study one day, and his wife came and said,
“My dear, do you think we shall know each other in heaven? “Why, yes,” said he.
“Do you think we shall be greater fools there than we are here?”
3. Again, I admit this doctrine of future recognition, because we
don’t in this world have sufficient opportunity of telling to those to whom we
are indebted how much we owe them. You who have prayed for the salvation of
souls, you who have contributed to the great charities of the day, will never
know in this world the full result of your work; there must be some place where
you will find it out. Years ago there was a minister by the name of John
Brattenberg, who preached the Gospel in Somerville, New Jersey. He was a
faithful, godly man, but a characteristic of his ministry was no conversions,
and when he came to die he died in despondency, because, though he had tried to
serve the Lord, he had seen hardly any brought into the kingdom. But scarcely
had the grass begun to grow on John Brattenberg’s grave than the windows of
heaven opened, and there came a great revival of religion, so that one day in
the village church two hundred souls stood up and took the vows of the
Christian--among them my own father and my own mother--and the peculiarity
about it was that nearly all those souls dated their religious impressions back
to the ministry of John Brattenberg. And shall he never know them?
4. Again, I accept this doctrine of future recognition, because there
are so many who, in their last moments, have seen their departed friends. (T.
De Witt Talmage.)
Divine consolation
Whenever it pleases God to take away front us one whom we love
there are several sources of consolation open to us.
1. First of all, there is the thought which is expressed in the words
of Eli: “It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good.” It is the will of
God which is done, that will which has been for many a long year the subject of
daily prayer whenever prayer has been offered, “Thy will be done.”
2. But another topic of comfort is opened in such words as were borne
from heaven to the listening ears of St. John the Divine: “Blessed are the dead
who die in the Lord, even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours.”
Here the prominent thought is not the will of God, but the blessed state of the
departed, not God wills, but “they rest.” In the former case the mourner is
exhorted to resignation by the thought, “it is the will of God;” in the latter
he is comforted by the assurance of the rest and peace which is the portion of
his beloved.
3. It was, however, to yet another source of comfort that David
betook himself in his bereavement when he gave utterance to the words of the
text--“I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.” But it was not only
submission to an inexorable law which made him yield to his lot. He was buoyed
up by the thought of a blessed future. The words, however, appear to contain
far more than a mere assurance of a future meeting of parted friends. The human
heart, with its strong affections, craves for something more definite. The
parting is so real, the void is so real, that it longs to know of a surety that
the reunion will in like manner be a reality. There has been such a close, intimate
knowledge of each other, such interchange, of thought, such an intense love,
that nothing short of a renewal of these happy relations can satisfy the
yearning of the soul. It is not enough to say, “You shall meet again.” Still
less bearable is that uncertain word of comfort which says, “It is possible we
may know each other in heaven, but so little is known about that unseen world
that none can say for certain that it will be so.” One step further, and you
hear it asserted as a fact that we shall not recognise each other in the future
state. Christ, it is said, will be all in all, and we shall be as the angels in
heaven, where they neither marry nor are given in marriage. But I often think
that any uncertainty about this matter, and still more any such sad certainty
as that to which I have referred, would add very greatly to the bitterness of
parting from those we loved. True, Christ will be all in all to those who shall
be counted worthy to enter into that kingdom, but surely it is because they are
in Christ that these relationships are so true, and deep, and sacred. In Christ
hearts are bound together; in Christ the members of His mystical body are
joined not only to Him but to each other, so that when one member suffers or
rejoices all the members suffer or rejoice with it. Living in Christ, they live
one with another; parents are bound up in their children, and children in their
parents; brethren and sisters love each other with a pure heart fervently, and
when they fall asleep in Christ there is nothing to cause a severance in their
love, but everything to intensify and deepen it. In Christ shall all be made alive, and who
can for a moment imagine that love of the brethren, love of parents and children, of husband and
wife, shall ever die out in those living ones? Death would indeed be a terrible
thing if it had the power to put asunder and estrange from each other those who
have been made one in Christ. True, “they shall be as the angels in heaven,”
but I have yet to learn that those holy beings who do the will of God are
unconnected and unknown to each other, each one in his own separate isolated
individuality doing his appointed service.
(J.
J. Blunt.)
Individual Recognition in Eternity
The question very often rises to the mind, whether the intercourse
of Christian friends separated by death, shall be renewed in heaven--whether
there will be any recollection of past attachments, and of their attendant
circumstances. This is an enquiry which flows from the warmest feelings of the heart, and
frequently presents itself at seasons when the individual is iii fitted to
answer it for himself. You know it has always been held that the concurrence of
general opinion among mankind is entitled to considerable weight. If Socrates
delighted himself in the prospect of conversation with Hesiod and Homer; if
Cicero anticipated an interview with Cato amid the assembly of the gods; if the
Greeks and Romans peopled their Tartarus and Elysium with spirits retaining all
their ancient remembrances; if untutored heathens entertain sentiments in
unison with this at the present day (and does not the mother in the Islands of
the Pacific, mourning over her child, comfort herself with the belief that
after her own death she shall rejoin it?--why does the Gentoo widow burn upon the
funeral pile, but that she may be replaced with her husband?--why does the
Indian of North America stretch his hands with joy towards the world beyond the
summits of the blue mountains; is it not because he is confident that he shall renew his
present existence in the society of cotemporary and kindred chieftains, and in
conjunction with the spirits of his fathers?) may we not then suppose that one
of the earliest presumptions of reason respecting futurity, would be, that
Christian friendship should be revived beyond the grave, and with the endearing
consciousness that the attachment had commenced on earth? But I will dismiss
the considerations arising from reason; because it must be admitted that the
suggestions of reason, well founded as they may appear, are not enough of
themselves, to satisfy the mind of the believer in the revealed will of God,
upon this momentous subject.
I. The declaration
of Scripture:--
1. Now, may we not consider this an averment of David’s conviction
that he should regain, and recognize his child in a future world?
2. The next passage to which I shall refer you, is in the fifteenth
chapter of St. Paul’s first Epistle to the Corinthians, and the fifty-fourth
verse: “So when this corruptible,” etc. Now mark it is here declared that the
consequences of sin, constitute the sting of death, one of these consequences
is the separation of relative from relative, and friend from friend. Now, if
the victory of our Redeemer is to be complete, as undoubtedly it will be, must
not all the consequences of sin be terminated and annihilated? Must not the
associations of human friendship, with all their endearing consciousness and
recollection, be replaced on that basis on which they would have rested for
ever, if the ruin of man by the fall had not taken place?
3. Let me next point you to a few passages illustrative of the great
interest which the holy angels have ever taken, and will continue to take in
the welfare of man, and the permanent and blessed association which is to
subsist in heaven between the angels and the righteous. “We are made,” says the
apostle, “a spectacle to angels.” “I say unto you that in heaven their angels
do always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven.” “There is joy in the
presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.” “Are they not
all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of
salvation? Whosoever shall confess me before men, him shall the Son of man also
confess before the angels of God: but he that denieth me before men, shall be
denied before the angels of God.” “Neither can they die any more: for they are
equal unto the angels.” “Ye are come unto mount Zion, and unto the city of the
living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels.”
Is it not, then, in the highest degree probable that in heaven there shall be
intercourse between particular angels, and those to whom they have ministered:
that the righteous shall be able to know, that those angels have been their
unseen guardians and protectors through all the trials and dangers of
mortality; that the gratitude on the one side, and increased attachment on both
sides, shall thus be an augmentation of bliss throughout eternity?
4. Our next quotations shall be from the gospels of St. Matthew and
St. Luke. First, from the eighth chapter of St. Matthew: “And I say unto you
that many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham,
and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven.” And in the thirteenth chapter
of St. Luke, “There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when ye shall see
Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and
you yourselves thrust out.” Now, is it compatible with the lowest degree of
probability to suppose that when Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, are sitting
together in the kingdom of heaven, Abraham shall have no conscious recollection
that he is actually beholding his beloved Isaac, the child of promise, the
ancestor of the Messiah in whom all the nations of the earth were to be
blessed;--that Isaac shall have no consciousness that he is dwelling in glory
with his, revered earthly father;--that Jacob shall have no knowledge of his
own parent, nor of “the father of the faithful,” but that the three patriarchs
shall be each to the other, as three individuals accidentally brought together
from different countries, or from different planets?
5. The next passage bearing on this subject is connected with the
transfiguration of our Lord: “And, behold, there talked with him two men, which
were Moses and Elias; who appeared in glory, and spake of his decease which he
should accomplish at Jerusalem.” The discourse of our Lord indicated to the
three apostles, who the gracious visitants were whom they beheld; and it tends,
I think, to show, not merely that at the resurrection mutual recollection and
consciousness will be revived, but that they experience no interruption from
death; that memory suffers no fall.
6. Turn to the fourth chapter of St. Paul’s first epistle to the
Thessalonians, from the thirteenth to the eighteenth verse: “But I would not
have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye
sorrow not, even as others which have no hope; for if we believe that Jesus
died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with
him.” Why were the Thessalonians not to sorrow as those who had no hope?
Because they were fully warranted in having hope--but hope, not merely that
their departed friends would rise again, or that holy men whom they had lost
would be happy in a future existence--for on these points neither instruction
nor consolation was required; but this was the question which depressed their
hearts, whether at the resurrection they should regain their lost relations,
whether friend should be restored to friend with retained remembrance and
conscious affection.
II. And if we carry
forward our thoughts to the day of judgment, we shall find a very strong
argument arising out of the details of that great day--an argument of immense
importance in our present investigation.
1. “We must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, to give an
account of the things done in the body.” Now can it be supposed that we shall
not at the time of judgment, possess a clear and comprehensive recollection of
the actions, the motives, and the principles, of which an account is then to be
rendered, and upon which the sentence is then to be pronounced? And must not
the recollection of our personal deeds and desires necessarily involve a
recollection of other individuals? It is incontestably true that the
recollection will be perfect, and the recognition complete, before the throne
of judgment; and I come to this conclusion, that if they are not to be
prolonged into eternity, they must be extinguished subsequently to the day of
judgment by a special act of Omnipotence, that when a man remembers on that day
he shall forget immediately after. And where is our warrant for expecting, that
all which is in our remembrance at the final day of judgment, shall be forgotten
in the day that succeeds it--in that eternal day?
2. There remains only one more passage illustrative of the
interesting point now under consideration, and it shall be from the parable of
the rich man and Lazarus.--(R. C. Dillon, M. A.)
Meeting in Heaven
There is also a great deal of comfort in the fact that there will
be a family reconstruction in a better place. From Scotland, or England, or
Ireland, a child emigrates to America. It is very hard parting, but he comes,
after awhile writing home as to what a good land it is. Another brother comes,
a sister comes, and another, and after a while the mother comes, and after a
while the father comes, and now they are all here, and they have a time of
great congratulation and a very pleasant reunion. Well, it is just so with our
families: they are emigrating
towards a better land. Now, one goes out. Oh, how hard it is to part with him!
Another goes. Oh, how hard it is to part with her! And another, and another,
and we ourselves will, after a while, go over, and then we will be together.
Oh, what a reunion! Do you believe that? “Yes,” you say. Oh! you do not. You do
not believe it as you believe other things. If you do, and with the same
emphasis, why it would’ take nine-tenths of your trouble off your heart. The
fact is, heaven to many of us in a great fog. It is away off somewhere, filled
with an uncertain and indefinite population. That is the kind of heaven that
many of us dream about; but it is the most tremendous fact in all the
universe--this heaven of the Gospel. Our departed friends are not afloat. The
residence in which you live is not so real as the residence in which they stay.
(T. De Witt Talmage, D. D.)
A father’s thought over his child’s grave
The context shows David in two aspects. First: Suffering as a
sinner. He had committed a great sin, and the loss of his child was a
retribution. Secondly: Reasoning as a saint, “And he said, While the child was
yet alive.” The text implies David’s belief in three things. I the
unreturnableness of the dead. The dead return not again. “I shall behold man no
more in the land of the living,” said Hezekiah.
1. There is no returning to discharge neglected duties.
2. There is no returning to recover lost opportunities. If there is
no return to the earth--
II. In the certainty
of his own dissolution. “I shall go to him.”
1. The certainty of death is universally admitted with the
understanding. There is no room left for questioning it.
2. The certainty of death is universally denied by the life. All men
live as if they were immortal. How morally infatuated is our race!
III. In the re-union
after death. “I shall go to him.”
1. The re-union he believed in was spiritual.
2. The re-union he believed in was conscious.
3. The re-union he believed in was happy.
Let these thoughts of death aid us to fulfil the mission of life.
(Homilist.)
On the due improvement of domestic bereavements
I. Remarks
deducible from the narrative:--
1. That it is not sinful in any ease (with a reserve of the divine
sovereignty, which is always implied or expressed) to deprecate the death of
dear friends and beloved children.
2. God is pleased, in the course of his adorable providence,
sometimes to visit the iniquity of fathers upon their children, of progenitors
upon their posterity. You see a striking instance of this in the case before
us.
3. Prayer is the proper exercise of the soul, amid afflictions and
bereavements, felt or feared. “Is any man,” saith James, “afflicted, let him
pray.” And to prayer David betook himself, on this very trying occasion.
4. Humiliation and fasting are exercises specially befitting times of
trouble. To these also the afflicted monarch had recourse, at this time.
5. Submission to the will of God, under the loss of children or other
bereavements, is the duty of all; and, when spiritual strength is ministered
from on high, will be the attainment of the good.
6. The sanctuary of God is that place to which the bereaved mother
may, most aptly, resort.
7. We should not only feel and cherish, but also exemplify submission
to the divine dispensations. So did the son of Jesse; for when apprized that
his son was dead; he rose from the earth, anointed himself, changed his
apparel, and went into the house of God to worship.
8. The conduct of the children of God under painful bereavements, may
often appear strange to others, though it be founded upon the best principles,
and be capable of being justified by the best arguments.
II. The views
contained in the text itself, “I shall go to him; but he shall not return to
me.”
1. It is the sorrowful declaration of one who had just been bereft of
a beloved son the only son of his mother.
2. The statement before us presents to our view a person, amid his
sorrows, meditating solemnly upon eternity, and solacing his soul with this
contemplation. This was the state into which the son of David had just entered.
3. The intimation of the text is the utterance of one who is
anticipating the hour of his own departure. “I shall go to him.” There is but
one way, as there is only one event, for all mankind. “It is appointed to all
men to die.”
4. The bereaved mourner is here contemplating death as an irrevocable
step in existence: “I shall go to him, but he cannot return to me.”
5. David is here anticipating a happy re-union with his beloved
child, in a better world. Nothing loss, doubtless, could have either satisfied
his faith, or soothed his spirit.
III. From this
subject we may learn what we have all to expect, in such a world as this.
1. It is, that death will, sooner or later, invade our families, and
snatch from us the dearest objects of our affection.
2. The views that we have been taking also admonish us that parents
must do much good, or much ill, of the most influential kind, to their
children.
3. We are taught, again, what reflection the disappearance of others from this earthly
scene should suggest most naturally to our minds. It is the thought of our own
departure. Finally. Amid dissolving assemblies, and the disruption of the
dearest connections on earth, let us think upon that period and that state,
when all the family of God shall meet, not one lacking, and the congregation of
the redeemed shall be convened never to be broken up.
The living go to the dead
I. the dead will
not return to the living. God has placed a barrier between this and the other world;
but what that barrier is we know
not: we only know that it is completely sufficient to prevent all intercourse
between the living and the dead. He says the dead shall not return, and he does
not allow them to return. They have gone to their long home, where they must
abide for ever; and where the living can never see them without going to them.
And this,
II. They must all
sooner or later do. And it is said, “There is no man that hath power over-the
spirit to retain the spirit; neither hath he power in the day of death: and there is
no discharge in that war.” It does not depend upon the choice of the living
whether they shall die and go to the dead. They are under a natural necessity
of dying, either by disease, accident, violence, or the infirmities of old age,
which none can escape who escape all other causes of death. And when the dust
returns to the dust, the spirit must go to God who gave it. Though we cannot
say anything upon this question to gratify curiosity; yet we may say some
things which we all ought to know and realize. Here then it may be observed,
1. That for the living to go to the dead implies their passing
through the change of death.
2. For the living to go to the dead, implies their committing their
bodies to the dust from which they were taken. Whether their bodies are
emaciated or full of vigour and activity When they leave them, they must see
corruption, which is the natural and unavoidable effect of death.
3. For the living to go to the dead implies that they must follow
them not only into the grave, but into eternity. The Bible gives abundant
evidence of the existence and activity of the soul after it leaves the body.
4. The living must go to the dead, not merely to see where they are
and what they are, but to dwell with them for ever.
Improvement.
1. If the living must go to the dead, then their separation from one
another will not be of long duration.
2. If the living must go to the dead, it cannot be a matter of great
importance whether the time be longer or shorter, before they go into the world
where their departed friends have gone.
3. If those who die go immediately to the dead,-then every instance
of mortality may be as affecting to the inhabitants of the other world as to
those in this.
4. If the living will go to the dead in the manner that has been
described, then we may see one reason why good men have often been willing to
die. Job said, “I would not live alway; all the days of my appointed time will
I wait, till my change come.” Good old Simeon said, “Lord, now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace, according to thy word.” Paul said in the name of
Christians, “We are confident, and willing rather to be absent from the body,
and to be present with the Lord.”
5. If the living must go to the dead, then we may learn one reason
why mankind in general are so loath to die. It is not always owing to men’s
reluctance to leaving this world, but their dread of going into another.
6. If the living must go to the dead, then a realising sense of this
solemn truth would have a happy tendency to qualify the grief of mourners, and
turn their thoughts into a proper channel. Finally, it is the immediate and
indispensable duty of every person of every character, age and condition, to
prepare to go to those who have gone from them and will never return. (N.
Emmons, D. D.)
Consolations under Bereavement
The text presents us with a noble model of what should be a
Christian’s conduct under bereavement.
I. the
consolations which should animate a christian under bereavement.
1. And foremost among these is the recollection, that death is not
the end of existence.
2. Remember, as a second consolation, that death is the commencement
of an existence far more glorious than the present.
3. Further: as our consolation we have the assurance that death neither
dissolves nor weakens the ties of relation or of love.
4. Further: we remark that, after a brief separation, we shall be
re-united.
5. Once more: once re-united, we shall part no more.
II. The lessons
which these bereaving providences should teach us. (F. Greeves.)
The believer’s comfort under bereavement
I. That survivors
may derive comfort from the reflection that their departed Christian friends
shall no more return to them. “He shall not return to me.” When men close their
eyes in death, their connection with earth and the things of earth is dissolved
for them. They go to the place “from whose bourn no traveller returns.” We may
be comforted by the truth, they “shall not return to us,” when we are
reminded:--
1. That at the gate of death the righteous bid adieu to sorrow. There
is much in the present, world that harasses the children of God, and on account
of which “rivers of waters run down their eyes.”
2. That by death the righteous are taken away from approaching
danger. “The righteous is taken away from the evil to come.” What this “evil”
may be, in any particular case, it is not for us to determine. It is their
heavenly Father’s account of the matter, and’ therewith let us be content.
3. That by death God does not only take His children from evils to
come, but He brings them also to their promised rest. It is thus He answers the
Redeemer’s prayer. “Father, I will that they also whom Thou hast given Me, be
with Me where I am, that, they may behold My glory.”
II. That amidst our
sorrows on account of departed Christian friends, we may be edified and
comforted by the solemn, yet cheering truth, that we must soon follow them.
1. We shall go to them in death. We also are mortal, and we too must
die.
2. We must go to them in their state of separate existence. Here we
learn that though death shall decompose and separate every particle of the
body, yet it shall leave the soul unscathed, in a state of conscious existence,
capable of exercising its high and immortal faculties on the objects which
shall then be spread before it, and susceptible of those exhaustless pleasures,
or those never-ending pains, into the enjoyment or endurance of which it is
immediately introduced. Admitting that while the body of the believer slumbers
in the dust, his soul is in a state of active being, we must remember that when
we die we too shall enter instantaneously on a new and untried state.
3. That if we die in the faith of Christ Jesus, we shall go to the
sainted dead, and be enshrined with them in all the blessedness of the world of
glory.
Application
1. Are we mourners? then let the subject teach us piously to
acquiesce in the dispensation with which we have been visited.
2. Are we mourners? then let us be deeply impressed with the nature
of that moral and spiritual change which must have passed over us, before we
can adopt the language of the text, and rejoice in the prospect of following
departed friends. “We shall go to them.”
3. Are we mourners? let the subject teach us to moderate our grief
for those who have been removed by death. (J. Gaskin, M. A.)
Deceased children not lost
Years before Robert Leighton retired to Broadhurst, death had
entered the mansion in spite of the struggles of love to keep him out, and had
carried away a child altogether dear. Nothing could be tenderer than his words
of solace to his brother-in-law, words which uttered the home sickness in his
own breast. “Indeed it was a sharp stroke of the pen that told me your little
Johnny was dead . . . Tell my dear sister she is now so much more akin to the other
world, and this will quickly be past to us all. John is but gone an hour or two
sooner to bed as children used to do, and we are undressing to follow.” There,
and not here, Leighton confessed, is the morning without clouds, and the
perfect day, and the life which is life indeed; and our Father unclothes us
that he may deck body and brain with the better garment of everlastingness. (Alexander
Smellie.)
Reunion beyond the grave a comfort to the bereaved
God will give me back my friends who have reached the shore in
advance of me. By His guiding hand I shall come, as Henry Montague, the Earl of
Manchester, wrote, “into my own country, into paradise, where I shall meet, not
as in the Elysium of the poets, Cato, Scipio and Scaevola, but Abraham, Isaac
and Jacob, the patriarchs my fathers, the saints my brothers, the angels my
friends: my wife, children and kinsfolk that are gone before me, and do attend
me, looking and longing for my arrival there.” Thus the dews of sorrow are
lustred by His love. (Alexander Smellie.)
Associations with the land beyond
On a narrow, rugged ledge of rock, called Chicken Rock, a
lighthouse has been built. But in consequence of the lack of space there is no
accommodation for other than the actual keepers themselves. Their wives and families
have therefore to live in cottages on the mainland, separated from the
lighthouse. But these people have a pretty custom by which the fathers and
children keep in touch with one another. On Sunday mornings, after they have
dressed the little ones all in their best, the mothers take them down to the
edge of the sea, and they all stand there, looking and waving towards the
lighthouse out on the rock. And there high up in the lighthouse stand the
fathers, and through their telescopes they look down to the little bay oil
those whom they love dearest in all the world. And as I read this story, I
thought how it was a picture of those who, doing their duty from day to day,
look through the telescope of faith to that pleasant shore where their loved
ones have gone before, and go bravely on with their work till the time when
they not only see them, but will be with them. (Alexander Smellie.)
“All is well now”
Those who have lost a loved child, perhaps an only one, cannot
but, derive some comfort from words which Luther spoke just after his daughter
Madeleine’s death. When she was placed in the coffin he gazed long at her and
said, “Dear little Madeleine, all is well with thee now.” And to his wife,
“Think where she is gone. She has certainly made a happy journey. With children
everything is simple. They die without anguish, without disputes, without
bodily grief, without the temptations of death, as if they were falling
asleep.” (Quiver.)
Divine revelation alone gives certainty of an after life
Cicero’s letter to his friend Atticus, on informing him of the
death of his darling little son, is one of the saddest memorials of family
grief in the whole range of literature. The great orator and philosopher wails,
without a note of consolation, over his woe. He will never see his dear little
boy again. They have parted for all eternity. In the view of such sorrow,
unmitigated by a single ray of comfort, how great is the contrast afforded by
the light of the Gospel! (Christian Commonwealth.)
Verses 26-31
──《The Biblical Illustrator》