Chapter II: Preface (2)

This is the proper language of a man of war. Not one of that mighty host that mustered “over against the tabernacle of the congregation” would have understood such a thing as a single doubt, or shadow of a doubt, as to _his own very pedigree_. Doubtless, he would have smiled had any one raised a question on the subject. Each one of the six hundred thousand knew well whence he had sprung, and therefore where he was to take his stand. And just so with God’s militant host now. Each member thereof will need to possess the most unclouded confidence as to his relationship, else he will not be able to stand in the battle.

And then as to the “standard.” What is it? Is it a doctrine? Nay. Is it a theological system? Nay. Is it an ecclesiastical polity? Nay. Is it a system of ordinances, rites, or ceremonies? Nothing of the sort. God’s warriors do not fight under any such banner. What is the standard of God’s militant host? Let us hear and remember. It is Christ. This is the only standard of God, and the only standard of that warrior-band which musters in this wilderness-world to wage war with the hosts of evil and fight the battles of the Lord. Christ is the standard for every thing. To have any other would only unfit us for that spiritual conflict to which we are called. What have we, _as Christians_, to do with contending for any system of theology or church organization? Of what account, in our estimation, are ordinances, ceremonies, or ritualistic observances? Are we going to fight under such banners as these? God forbid! Our theology is the Bible; our church-organization is the one Body, formed by the presence of the Holy Ghost, and united to the living and exalted Head in the heavens. To contend for any thing less than these is entirely below the mark of a true spiritual warrior.

Alas! alas! that so many who profess to belong to the Church of God should so forget their proper standard, and be found fighting under another banner. We may rest assured it superinduces weakness, falsifies the testimony, and hinders progress. If we would stand in the day of battle, we must acknowledge no standard whatsoever but Christ and His word—the living Word and the written word. Here lies our security in the face of all spiritual foes. The more closely we adhere to Christ, and to Him _alone_, the stronger and the safer we shall be. To have Him as a perfect covering for our eyes,—to keep close to Him—fast by His side, this is our grand moral safeguard. “The children of Israel shall pitch their tents, every man by his own camp, and every man by his own standard, throughout their hosts.”

Oh that thus it may be throughout all the host of the Church of God! May all be laid aside for Christ. May He be enough for our hearts. As we trace our “pedigree” up to Him, may His name be inscribed on the “standard” around which we encamp in this wilderness, through which we are passing home to our eternal rest above. Reader, see to it, we beseech thee, that there be not one jot or tittle inscribed on thy banner save Jesus Christ—that name which is above every name, and which shall yet be exalted forever throughout the wide universe of God.

CHAPTERS III. & IV.

What a marvelous spectacle was the camp of Israel in that waste howling wilderness! What a spectacle to angels, to men, and to devils! God’s eye ever rested upon it. His presence was there. He dwelt in the midst of His militant people. It was there He found His habitation. He did not, He could not, find His abode amid the splendors of Egypt, of Assyria, or of Babylon. No doubt those nations presented much that was attractive to nature’s eye. The arts and sciences were cultivated amongst them. Civilization had reached a far loftier point amongst those ancient nations than we moderns are disposed to admit. Refinement and luxury were probably carried to as great an extent there as amongst those who put forth very lofty pretensions.

But, be it remembered, Jehovah was not known among those nations; His name had never been revealed to them; He did not dwell in their midst. True, there were the ten thousand testimonies to His creative power; and moreover, His superintending providence was over them,—He gave them rain and fruitful seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness; the blessings and benefits of His liberal hand were showered upon them from day to day and year to year; His showers fertilized their fields, His sunbeams gladdened their hearts: but they knew Him not, and cared not for Him. His dwelling was not there. Not one of those nations could say, “Jehovah is my strength and song, and He is become my salvation: He is my God, and I will prepare Him a habitation; my father’s God, and I will exalt Him.” (Ex. xv. 2.)

Jehovah found His abode in the bosom of His redeemed people, and no where else. Redemption was the necessary basis of God’s habitation amongst men. Apart from redemption, the divine presence could only prove the destruction of man; but redemption being known, that presence secures man’s highest privilege and brightest glory.

God dwelt in the midst of His people Israel. He came down from heaven, not only to redeem them out of the land of Egypt, but to be their traveling-companion through the wilderness. What a thought! The Most High God taking up His abode on the sand of the desert, and in the very bosom of His redeemed congregation! Truly, there was nothing like that throughout the wide, wide world. There was that host of six hundred thousand men, beside women and children, in a sterile desert, where there was not a blade of grass, not a drop of water—no visible source of subsistence. How were they to be fed? God was there! How were they to be kept in order? God was there! How were they to track their way through a howling wilderness, where there was no way? God was there!

In a word, God’s presence secured every thing. Unbelief might say, What! are three millions of people to be fed on air? Who has charge of the commissariat? where are the military stores? where is the baggage? who is to attend to the clothing? Faith alone could answer, and its answer is simple, brief, and conclusive,—God was there! And that was quite sufficient. All is comprehended in that one sentence. In faith’s arithmetic, God is the only significant figure; and having Him, you may add as many ciphers as you please. If all your springs are in the living God, it ceases to be a question of your need, and resolves itself into a question of His sufficiency.

What were six hundred thousand footmen to the Almighty God? what the varied necessities of their wives and children? In man’s estimation, these things might seem overwhelming. England has just sent out ten thousand troops to Abyssinia; but only think of the enormous expense and labor—think of the number of transports required to convey provisions and other necessaries for that small army. But imagine an army sixty times the size, together with the women and children; conceive this enormous host entering upon a march that was to extend over the space of forty years, through “a great and terrible wilderness,” in which there was no corn, no grass, no water-spring. How were they to be sustained? No supplies with them, no arrangements entered into with friendly nations to forward supplies, no transports dispatched to meet them at various points along their route; in short, not a single visible source of supply—nothing that nature would consider available.

All this is something worth pondering. But we must ponder it in the divine presence. It is of no possible use for reason to sit down and try to solve this mighty problem by human arithmetic. No, reader; it is only faith that can solve it, and that, moreover, by the Word of the living God. Here lies the precious solution. Bring God in, and you want no other factors to work out your answer; leave Him out, and the more powerful your reason, and the more profound your arithmetic, the more hopeless must be your perplexity.

Thus it is that faith settles the question. God was in the midst of His people. He was there in all the fullness of His grace and mercy—there in His perfect knowledge of His people’s wants, and of the difficulties of their path—there in His almighty power and boundless resources, to meet these difficulties and supply these wants. And so fully did He enter into all these things, that He was able, at the close of their long wilderness-wanderings, to appeal to their hearts in the following touching accents: “For the Lord thy God hath blessed thee in all the works of thy hand; He knoweth thy walking through this great wilderness: these forty years the Lord thy God hath been with thee; _thou hast lacked nothing_.” And again, “Thy raiment waxed not old upon thee, neither did thy foot swell, these forty years.” (Deut. ii. 7; viii. 4.)

Now, in all these things, the camp of Israel was a type—a vivid, striking type. A type of what? A type of the Church of God passing through this world. The testimony of Scripture is so distinct on this point, as to leave no room and no demand for the exercise of imagination.—“All these things happened unto them for ensamples; and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come.” (1 Cor. x. 11.)

Hence, therefore, we may draw near and gaze, with intense interest, upon that marvelous spectacle, and seek to gather up the precious lessons which it is so eminently fitted to teach. And, oh, what lessons! Who can duly estimate them? Look at that mysterious camp in the desert, composed, as we have said, of warriors, workers, and worshipers. What separation from all the nations of the world! what utter helplessness! what exposure! what absolute dependence upon God! They had nothing, could do nothing, could know nothing. They had not a morsel of food nor a drop of water, but as they received it day by day from the immediate hand of God. When they retired to rest at night, there was not a single atom of provision for the morrow. There was no storehouse, no larder, no visible source of supply—nothing that nature could take any account of.

But God was there, and that, in the judgment of faith, was quite enough. _They were shut up to God._ This is the one grand reality. Faith owns nothing real, nothing solid, nothing true, but the one true, living, eternal God. Nature might cast a longing look at the granaries of Egypt, and see something tangible, something substantial there: faith looks up to heaven and finds _all_ its springs there.

Thus it was with the camp in the desert, and thus it is with the Church in the world. There was not a single exigency, not a single contingency, not a single need of any sort whatsoever, for which the Divine Presence was not an all-sufficient answer. The nations of the uncircumcised might look on and marvel; they might, in the bewilderment of blind unbelief, raise many a question as to how such a host could ever be fed, clothed, and kept in order. Most certainly they had no eyes to _see_ how it could be done. They knew not Jehovah, the Lord God of the Hebrews; and therefore to tell them that He was going to undertake for that vast assembly would indeed seem like idle tales.

And so it is now, in reference to the assembly of God, in this world, which may truly be termed a moral wilderness. Looked at from God’s point of view, that assembly is not of the world; it is in complete separation. It is as thoroughly apart from the world as the camp of Israel was apart from Egypt. The waters of the Red Sea rolled between that camp and Egypt; and the deeper and darker waters of the death of Christ roll between the Church of God and this present evil world. It is impossible to conceive separation more complete. “They,” says our Lord Christ, “are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.” (John xvii.)

Then, as to entire dependence, what can be more dependent than the Church of God in this world? She has nothing in or of herself. She is set down in the midst of a moral desert, a dreary waste, a vast howling wilderness, in the which there is literally nothing on which she can live. There is not one drop of water, not a single morsel of suited food, for the Church of God throughout the entire compass of this world.

So also as to the matter of exposure to all sorts of hostile influences. Nothing can exceed it. There is not so much as one friendly influence. All is against her. She is in the midst of this world like an exotic—a plant belonging to a foreign clime, and set down in a sphere where both the soil and the atmosphere are uncongenial.

Such is the Church of God in the world—a separated, dependent, defenseless thing, wholly cast upon the living God. It is calculated to give great vividness, force, and clearness to our thoughts about the Church to view it as the antitype of the camp in the desert; and that it is in no wise fanciful or far-fetched to view it thus, 1 Corinthians x. 11 does most clearly show. We are fully warranted in saying that what the camp of Israel was literally, that the Church is morally and spiritually. And further, that what the wilderness was literally to Israel, that the world is morally and spiritually to the Church of God. The wilderness was the sphere of Israel’s toil and danger, not of their supplies or their enjoyment; and the world is the sphere of the Church’s toil and danger, not of its supplies or its enjoyment.

It is well to seize this fact, in all its moral power. The assembly of God in the world, like “the congregation in the wilderness,” is wholly cast upon the living God. We speak, be it remembered, from the divine stand-point—of what the Church is in God’s sight. Looked at from man’s point of view—looked at as she is in her own actual practical state, it is, alas! another thing. We are now only occupied with the normal, the true, the divine idea of God’s assembly in this world.

And let it not be forgotten for one moment, that as truly as there was a camp in the desert of old—a congregation in the wilderness, so truly is there the Church of God—the body of Christ—in the world now. Doubtless, the nations of the world knew little and cared less about that congregation of old; but that did not weaken or touch the great living fact. So now, the men of the world know little and care less about the assembly of God—the body of Christ; but that in no wise touches the grand living truth that there is such a thing actually existing in this world, and _has been_ ever since the Holy Ghost descended on the day of Pentecost. True, the congregation of old had its trials, its conflicts, its sorrows, its temptations, its strifes, its controversies, its internal commotions, its numberless and nameless difficulties, calling for the varied resources that were in God—the precious ministrations of prophet, priest, and king which God had provided; for, as we know, Moses was there as “king in Jeshurun,” and as the prophet raised up of God; and Aaron was there to exercise all the priestly functions.

But in spite of all these things that we have named—in spite of the weakness, the failure, the sin, the rebellion, the strife—still there was the striking fact, to be taken cognizance of by men, by devils, and by angels, namely, a vast congregation, amounting to something like three millions of people (according to the usual mode of computation) journeying through a wilderness, wholly dependent upon an unseen arm, guided and cared for by the eternal God, whose eye was never for one moment withdrawn from that mysterious typical host; yea, He dwelt in their midst, and never left them, in all their unbelief, their forgetfulness, their ingratitude, and rebellion. God was there to sustain and guide, to guard and keep them day and night. He fed them with bread from heaven day by day, and He brought them forth water out of the flinty rock.

This, assuredly, was a stupendous fact—a profound mystery. God had a congregation in the wilderness—apart from the nations around, shut up to Himself. It may be the nations of the world knew nothing, cared nothing, thought nothing, about this assembly. It is certain the desert yielded nothing in the way of sustenance or refreshment. There were serpents and scorpions,—there were snares and dangers—drought, barrenness, and desolation; but there was that wonderful assembly maintained in a manner that baffled and confounded human reason.

And, reader, remember, this was a type. A type of what? A type of something that has been in existence for over eighteen centuries; is in existence still; and shall be in existence until the moment that our Lord Christ rises from His present position and descends into the air. In one word, a type of the Church of God in the world. How important to recognize this fact! How sadly it has been lost sight of! how little understood, even now! And yet every Christian is solemnly responsible to recognize, and practically to confess it. There is no escaping it. Is it true that there is something in this world at this very moment answering to the camp in the desert? Yes, verily; there is, in very truth, the Church in the wilderness. There is an assembly passing through this world, just as the literal Israel passed through the literal desert. And moreover, the world is morally and spiritually to that Church what the desert was literally and practically to Israel of old. Israel found no springs in the desert; and the Church of God should find no springs in the world. If she does, she proves false to her Lord. Israel was not of the desert, but passing through it; and the Church of God is not of the world, but passing through it.

If this be thoroughly entered into by the reader, it will show him the place of complete separation which belongs to the Church of God as a whole, and to each individual member thereof. The Church, _in God’s view of her_, is as thoroughly marked off from this present world as the camp of Israel was marked off from the surrounding desert. There is as little in common between the Church and the world as there was between Israel and the sand of the desert. The most brilliant attractions and bewitching fascinations of the world are to the Church of God what the serpents and scorpions and the ten thousand other dangers of the wilderness were to Israel.

Such is the divine idea of the Church; and it is with this idea that we are now occupied. Alas! alas! how different it is with that which calls itself the Church! But we want the reader to dwell, for the present, on the true thing; we want him to place himself, by faith, at God’s stand-point, and view the Church from thence. It is only by so doing that he can have any thing like a true idea of what the Church is, or of his own personal responsibility with respect to it. God _has_ a Church in the world. There _is_ a body now on the earth, indwelt by God the Spirit, and united to Christ the Head. This Church—this body—is composed of all those who truly believe on the Son of God, and who are united by the grand fact of the presence of the Holy Ghost.

And be it observed, this is not a matter of opinion—a certain thing which we may take up or lay down at pleasure. It is a divine fact; it is a grand truth, whether we will hear or whether we will forbear. The Church is an existing thing, and we, if believers, are members thereof. We cannot avoid this: we cannot ignore it. We are actually in the relationship—baptized into it by the Holy Ghost. It is as real and as positive a thing as the birth of a child into a family. The birth has taken place, the relationship is formed, and we have only to recognize it, and walk in the sense of it from day to day. The very moment in which a soul is born again—born from above, and sealed by the Holy Ghost, he is incorporated into the body of Christ. He can no longer view himself as a solitary individual, an independent person, an isolated atom; he is a member of a body, just as the hand or the foot is a member of the human body. He is a member of _the_ Church of God, and cannot, properly and truly, be a member of any thing else. How could my arm be a member of any other body? And on the same principle, we may ask, How could a member of the body of Christ be a member of any other body?

What a glorious truth is this respecting the Church of God—the antitype of the camp in the desert—“the congregation in the wilderness!” What a fact to be governed by! There _is_ such a thing as the Church of God amid all the ruin and the wreck, the strife and the discord, the confusion and division, the sects and parties. This, surely, is a most precious truth. But not only is it most precious, it is also most practical and formative. We are as bound to recognize, by faith, this Church in the world, as the Israelite was bound to recognize, by sight, the camp in the desert. There _was_ one camp—one congregation, and the true Israelite belonged thereto; there _is_ one Church—one body, and the true Christian belongs to it.

But how is this body organized? By the Holy Ghost, as it is written, “By one Spirit are we all baptized into one body.” (1 Cor. xii. 13.) How is it maintained? By its living Head, through the Spirit, and by the Word, as it is written, “No man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the Church.” (Eph. v. 29.) Is not this enough? Is not the Lord Christ sufficient? Doth not the Holy Ghost suffice? Do we want any thing more than the varied virtues that are lodged in the name of Jesus? Are not the gifts of the Eternal Spirit quite sufficient for the growth and maintenance of the Church of God? Doth not the fact of the divine presence in the Church, secure _all_ that the Church can possibly need? Is it not sufficient for “exigence of every hour”? Faith says—and says it with emphasis and decision,—Yes! Unbelief—human reason, says, No; we want a great many things as well. What is our brief reply? Simply this: If God be not sufficient, we know not whither to turn; if the name of Jesus doth not suffice, we know not what to do; if the Holy Ghost cannot meet all our need, in communion, in ministry, and in worship, we know not what to say.

It may, however, be said that “things are not as they were in apostolic times. The professing church has failed; pentecostal gifts have ceased; the palmy days of the Church’s first love have passed away; and therefore we must adopt the best means in our power for the organization and maintenance of our churches.” To all this we reply, God has not failed; Christ, the Head of the Church, has not failed; the Holy Spirit has not failed; not one jot or tittle of God’s Word has failed. This is the true ground of faith. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.” He has said, “Lo, I am with you.” How long? During the days of first love? during apostolic times? so long as the Church shall continue faithful? No; “I am with you _always_, even unto the end of the age.” (Matt. xxviii.) So also, at an earlier moment, when, for the first time in the whole canon of Scripture, the Church, properly so called, is named, we have those memorable words, “On this Rock [the Son of the living God] I will build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” (Matt. xvi.)

Now, the question is, Is that Church on the earth at this moment? Most assuredly. It is as true that there is a Church now on this earth as that there was a camp in the desert of old. Yes; and as truly as God was in that camp to meet every exigence, so truly is He now in the Church to order and guide in every thing, as we read, “Ye are builded together for a habitation of God through the Spirit.” (Eph. ii.) This is quite sufficient. All we want is to lay hold, by a simple faith, of this grand reality. The name of Jesus is as sufficient for all the exigencies of the Church of God as it is for the soul’s salvation. The one is as true as the other. “Where two or three are gathered together in [or, unto] My name, there am I in the midst.” (Matt. xviii.) Has this ceased to be true? and if not, is not Christ’s presence quite enough for His Church? Do we need to set about planning or working for ourselves in church matters? No more than in the matter of the soul’s salvation. What do we say to the sinner? Trust Christ. What do we say to the saint? Trust Christ. What do we say to an assembly of saints, few or many? Trust Christ. Is there aught that He cannot manage? “Is there a thing too hard for Him?” Has His treasury of gift and grace become exhausted? Is He not able to supply ministerial gifts? Can He not furnish evangelists, pastors, and teachers? Can He not perfectly meet all the manifold necessities of His Church in the wilderness? If not, where are we? what shall we do? whither shall we turn? What had the congregation of old to do? To look to Jehovah. For every thing? Yes; for every thing,—for food, for water, for clothing, for guidance, for protection, for all. All their springs were in Him. Must we turn to some one else? Never. Our Lord Christ is amply sufficient, in spite of all our failure and ruin, our sin and unfaithfulness. He has sent down the Holy Ghost, the blessed Paraclete, to dwell with and in His people—to form them into one body, and unite them to their living head in heaven. He is the power of unity, of communion, of ministry, and of worship. He has not left us, and He never will. Only let us trust Him; let us use Him; let us give Him room to act. Let us carefully guard against every thing that might tend to quench, to hinder, or to grieve Him. Let us acknowledge Him, in His own proper place in the assembly, and yield ourselves, in all things, to His guidance and authority.

Here, we are persuaded, lies the true secret of power and blessing. Do we deny the ruin? How could we? Alas! alas! it stands forth as a fact too palpable and glaring to admit of denial. Do we seek to deny our share in the ruin—our folly and sin? Would to God we felt it more deeply! But shall we add to our sin by denying our Lord’s grace and power to meet us in our folly and ruin? Shall we forsake Him, the Fountain of living waters, and hew out for ourselves broken cisterns that can hold no water? Shall we turn from the Rock of Ages and lean upon the broken reeds of our own devising? God forbid! Rather let the language of our hearts be, as we think of the name of Jesus,—

“Salvation in that name is found,
Cure for my grief and care;
A healing balm for every wound,
_All, all I want is there_.”

But let not the reader suppose that we want to lend the smallest countenance to ecclesiastical pretention. We perfectly abhor any such thing. We look upon it as utterly contemptible. We believe we cannot possibly take too low a place. A low place and a lowly spirit are what alone become us in view of our common sin and shame. All we seek to maintain is this, the all-sufficiency of the name of Jesus for all the exigencies of the Church of God, at all times and under all circumstances. There was all power in that name in apostolic times, and why not now? Has any change passed over that glorious name? No, blessed be God. Well, then, it is sufficient for us at this moment, and all we want is to confide in it fully, and to show that we so confide by discarding thoroughly every other ground of confidence, and coming out, with bold decision, to that peerless and precious name. He has, blessed be His name, come down to the smallest congregation—the smallest plurality, inasmuch as He has said, “Where _two_ or three are gathered together in My name, there am I.” Does this still hold good? has it lost its power? does it no longer apply? Where has it been repealed?

Oh, Christian reader, we call upon you, by every argument which ought to weigh with your heart, to give your cordial assent and consent to this one eternal truth, namely, _The all-sufficiency of the name of the Lord Jesus Christ for the assembly of God, in every possible condition in which it can be found, throughout its entire history_.[3] We call upon you not merely to hold this as a true theory, but to confess it practically; and then, assuredly, you will taste the deep blessedness of the presence of Jesus in the outside place—a blessedness which must be tasted in order to be known; but when once really tasted, it can never be forgotten or surrendered for aught beside.

But we had no intention of pursuing the foregoing line of thought so far, or of penning such a lengthened introduction to the section of our book which lies open before us, and to which we shall now invite the reader’s particular attention.

On looking attentively at “the congregation in the wilderness” (Acts vii. 38.), we find it composed of three distinct elements, namely, _warriors_, _workers_, and _worshipers_. There was a _nation_ of warriors, a _tribe_ of workers, a _family_ of worshipers, or priests. We have glanced at the first of these, and seen each one, according to his “pedigree,” taking up his position by his “standard,” according to the direct appointment of Jehovah; and we shall now dwell for a few moments on the second, and see each one at his work and service, according to the same appointment. We have considered the warriors; let us meditate on the workers.

The Levites were distinctly marked off from all the other tribes, and called to a very specific place and service. Thus we read of them, “But the Levites after the tribe of their fathers were not numbered among them. For the Lord had spoken unto Moses, saying, ‘Only thou shalt not number the tribe of Levi, neither take the sum of them among the children of Israel. But thou shalt appoint the Levites over the tabernacle of testimony, and over all the vessels thereof, and over all things that belong to it: they shall bear the tabernacle, and all the vessels thereof; and they shall minister unto it, and shall encamp round about the tabernacle. And when the tabernacle setteth forward, the Levites shall take it down; and when the tabernacle is to be pitched, the Levites shall set it up: and the stranger that cometh nigh shall be put to death. And the children of Israel shall pitch their tents, every man by his own camp, and every man by his own standard, throughout their hosts. But the Levites shall pitch round about the tabernacle of testimony, that there be no wrath upon the congregation of the children of Israel; and the Levites shall keep the charge of the tabernacle of testimony.’” (Chap. i. 47-53.) And again we read, “But the Levites were not numbered among the children of Israel, as the Lord commanded Moses.” (Chap. ii. 33.)

But why the Levites? Why was this tribe specially marked off from all the others, and set apart for so holy and elevated a service? Was there any special sanctity or goodness about them to account for their being so distinguished? Not by nature, certainly, nor yet by practice, as we may see by the following words: “Simeon and Levi are brethren; instruments of cruelty are in their habitations. O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou united; for in _their anger they slew a man_, and in their self-will they digged down a wall. Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce; and their wrath, for it was cruel: I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them in Israel.” (Gen. xlix.)

Such was Levi by nature and by practice—self-willed, fierce, and cruel. How remarkable that such an one should be singled out and brought into a place of such high and holy privilege! Surely, we may say, it was grace from first to last. It is the way of grace to take up the very worst cases. It stoops to the lowest depths and gathers up its brightest trophies from thence. “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.” (1 Tim. i. 16.) “Unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ.” (Eph. iii.)

But how striking the language, “O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou united.” God is of purer eyes than to behold evil, and cannot look on iniquity. God could not come into Levi’s secret, or be united unto his assembly. That was impossible. God could have naught to do with self-will, fierceness, and cruelty. But yet He could bring Levi into His secret, and unite him to His assembly. He could take him out of his habitation, wherein were instruments of cruelty, and bring him into the tabernacle, to be occupied with the holy instruments and vessels that were there. This was grace—free, sovereign grace; and herein must be sought the basis of all Levi’s blessed and elevated service. So far as he was personally concerned, there was an immeasurable distance between him and a holy God—a chasm which no human art or power could bridge. A holy God could have nothing to do with self-will, fierceness, and cruelty; but a God of grace could have to do with Levi. He could visit such an one in sovereign mercy, and raise him up from the depths of his moral degradation, and bring him into a place of nearness to Himself.

And, oh, what a marvelous contrast between Levi’s position by nature and his position by grace! between the instruments of cruelty and the vessels of the sanctuary! between Levi in Genesis xxxiv. and Levi in Numbers iii. and iv.

But let us look at the mode of God’s dealing with Levi—the ground on which he was brought into such a place of blessing. In doing this, it will be needful for us to refer to chapter viii. of our book, and there we are let into the secret of the whole matter. We shall see that there was and could be no allowance of aught that belonged to Levi—no sanction of any of his ways; and yet there was the most perfect display of grace—grace reigning through righteousness. We speak of the type and its significance. We do so in view of that statement already referred to—“Now, all these things happened unto them for types.” It is not a question of how far the Levites saw through these things. This is not at all the point. We are not to ask, What did the Levites see in God’s dealing with them? but, What do we learn?

“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, ‘Take the Levites from among the children of Israel, and cleanse them. And thus shalt thou do unto them, to cleanse them: Sprinkle water of purifying upon them, and let them shave all their flesh, and let them wash their clothes, and so make themselves clean.’” (Chap. viii. 5-7.)

Here we have, in type, the only divine principle of cleansing. It is the application of death to nature and all its habits: it is the Word of God brought to bear upon the heart and conscience, in a living way. Nothing can be more expressive than the double action presented in the above passage. Moses was to sprinkle water of purifying upon them; and then they were to shave off all their hair, and wash their garments. There is great beauty and precision here. Moses, as representing the claims of God, cleanses the Levites according to those claims; and they, being cleansed, are able to bring the sharp razor to bear upon all that was the mere growth of nature, and to wash their garments, which expresses, in typic form, the cleansing their habits according to the Word of God. This was God’s way of meeting all that appertained to Levi’s natural state—the self-will, the fierceness, and the cruelty. The pure water and the sharp razor were called into action—the washing and shaving had to go on ere Levi was fit to approach the vessels of the sanctuary.

Thus it is in every case. There is, there can be, no allowance of nature among God’s workers. There never was a more fatal mistake than to attempt to enlist nature in the service of God. It matters not how you may endeavor to improve or regulate it; it is not improvement, but death that will avail. It is of the very last possible importance for the reader to lay hold, with clearness and force, of this great practical truth. Man has been weighed in the balance and found wanting: the plummet has been applied to him, and he has been found crooked. It is of no possible use seeking to reform. Nothing will do save the _water_ and the _razor_. God has closed up man’s history; He has brought it to an end in the death of Christ. The first grand fact that the Holy Ghost presses upon the human conscience is, that God has delivered His solemn verdict upon human nature, and that each one must accept that verdict against himself personally. It is not a matter of opinion, or a matter of feeling. A person may say, I do not see, or I do not feel, that I am so bad as you seem to make out. We reply, That does not affect the question in the least. God has declared His judgment about us, and it is man’s first duty to fall in with and bow to that. Of what use would it have been for Levi to say that he did not agree with what God’s Word had said about him? Would that, could that, have altered the question as to him? In no wise. The divine record remained the same whether Levi felt it or not; but clearly it was the first step in wisdom’s pathway to bow down under the weight of that record.

All this is expressed, in type, in the “water” and the “razor”—the “washing” and the “shaving.” Nothing could be more significant or impressive. These acts set forth the solemn truth of the sentence of death upon nature, and the execution of judgment upon all that nature produces.

And what, let us ask, is the meaning of the initiatory act of Christianity—the act of baptism? Does it not set forth the blessed fact that “our old man”—our fallen nature—is completely set aside, and that we are introduced into an entirely new position? Truly so. And how do we use the razor? By rigid self-judgment, day by day; by the stern disallowance of all that is of nature’s growth. This is the true path for all God’s workers in the wilderness. When we look at Levi’s conduct at Shechem, in Genesis xxxiv, and the record concerning him in Genesis xlix, we may ask, How can such an one ever be allowed to carry the vessels of the sanctuary? The answer is, Grace shines in Levi’s call, and holiness shines in Levi’s cleansing. He was called to the work according to the riches of divine grace; but he was fitted for the work according to the claims of divine holiness.

Thus it must be with all God’s workers. We are most thoroughly convinced that we are fit for God’s work just so far as nature is brought under the power of the cross and the sharp razor of self-judgment. Self-will can never be made available in the service of God; nay, it must be set aside, if we would know what true service is. There is, alas! a large amount of that which passes for service which, if judged in the light of the divine presence, would be seen to be but the fruit of a restless will. This is most solemn, and demands our most earnest attention. We cannot exercise too severe a censorship over ourselves in this very thing. The heart is so deceitful that we may be led to imagine that we are doing the Lord’s work, when in reality we are only pleasing ourselves; but if we would tread the path of true service, we must seek to be more and more apart from nature. The self-willed Levi must pass through the typic process of washing and shaving ere he can be employed in that elevated service assigned him by the direct appointment of the God of Israel.

But ere proceeding to examine particularly the work and service of the Levites, we must look for a moment at a scene in Exodus xxxii, in which they act a very prominent and a very remarkable part. We allude, as the reader will at once perceive, to the golden calf. During the absence of Moses, the people so completely lost sight of God and His claims as to set up a molten calf and bow down thereto. This terrible act called for summary judgment. “And when Moses saw that the people were naked, (for Aaron had made them naked to their shame among their enemies,) then Moses stood in the gate of the camp, and said, ‘Who is on the Lord’s side? let him come unto me.’ And all the sons of Levi gathered themselves together unto him. And he said unto them, ‘Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Put every man his sword by his side, and go in and out from gate to gate throughout the camp, and slay every man his brother, and every man his companion, and every man his neighbor.’ And the children of Levi did according to the word of Moses: and there fell of the people that day about three thousand men. For Moses had said, ‘Consecrate yourselves to-day to the Lord, even every man upon his son, and upon his brother; that He may bestow upon you a blessing this day.’” (Ex. xxxii. 25-29.)

This was a testing moment. It could not be otherwise, when this great question was pressed home upon the heart and conscience, “_Who is on the Lord’s side?_” Nothing could be more searching. The question was not, Who is willing to work? No; it was a far deeper and more searching question. It was not Who will go here or there—do this or that? There might be a vast amount of doing and going, and all the while it might be but the impulse of an unbroken will, which, acting upon religious nature, gave an appearance of devotedness and piety eminently calculated to deceive one’s self and others.

But to be “on the Lord’s side” implies the surrender of one’s own will—yea, the surrender of one’s self, and this is essential to the true servant—the real workman. Saul of Tarsus was on this ground when he exclaimed, “Lord, what wilt _Thou_ have _me_ to do?” What words, from the self-willed, fierce, and cruel persecutor of the Church of God!

“Who is on the Lord’s side?” Reader, art thou? Search and see. Examine thyself closely. Remember, the question is not at all What art thou doing? No; it is far deeper. If thou art on the Lord’s side, thou art ready for any thing and every thing. Thou art ready to stand still, or ready to go forward; ready to go to the right or to the left; ready to be active, and ready to be quiet; ready to stand on thy feet, and ready to lie on thy back. The grand point is this, namely, the surrender of thyself to the claims of another, and that other the Lord Christ.

This is an immense point. Indeed we know of nothing more important at the present moment than this searching question, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” We live in days of immense self-will. Man exults in his liberty. And this comes out very prominently in religious matters. Just as it was in the camp of Israel in the days of the thirty-second of Exodus—the days of the golden calf. Moses was out of sight, and the human will was at work; the graving-tool was called into operation; and what was the result? The molten calf; and when Moses returned, he found the people in idolatry and nakedness. Then came forth the solemn and testing question, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” This brought things to an issue, or rather it put people to the test. Nor is it otherwise now. Man’s will is rampant, and that, too, in matters of religion. Man boasts of his rights, of the freedom of his will, the freedom of his judgment. There is the denial of the lordship of Christ; and therefore it behooves us to look well to it, and see that we really are taking sides with the Lord against ourselves; that we are in the attitude of simple subjection to His authority. Then we shall not be occupied with the amount or character of our service; it will be our one object to do the will of our Lord.

Now, to act thus under the Lord may often give an appearance of narrowness to our sphere of action; but with this we have nothing whatever to do. If a master tells his servant to stand in the hall, and not to stir until he rings the bell, what is the servant’s duty? Clearly to stand still; nor should he be moved from this position or attitude, even though his fellow-servants should find fault with his apparent inactivity and good-for-nothingness; he may rest assured his master will approve and vindicate. This is enough for any true-hearted servant, whose one desire will ever be not so much to do a great deal, as to do the will of his Lord.

In a word, then, the question for the camp of Israel in the day of the golden calf, and the question for the Church in this day of human will, is this: “Who is on the Lord’s side?” Momentous question! It is not, Who is on the side of religiousness, philanthropy, or moral reform? There may be a large amount of any or all of these things, and yet the will be thoroughly unbroken. Let us not forget this; nay, rather we should say, let us continually bear it in mind. We may be very zealous in promoting all the various schemes of philanthropy, religiousness, and moral reform, and all the while be ministering to self, and feeding self-will. This is a most solemn and weighty consideration; and it behooves us to give earnest heed to it. We are passing through a moment in the which man’s will is being pampered with unparalleled diligence. We believe, most assuredly, that the true remedy for this evil will be found wrapped up in this one weighty question, “Who is on the Lord’s side?” There is immense practical power in this question. To be really on _the Lord’s_ side is to be ready for aught to which He may see fit to call us, no matter what. If the soul is brought to say, in real truth, “_Lord_, what wilt Thou have me to do?” “Speak, _Lord_, for _Thy servant heareth_,” then we are ready for every thing. Hence, in the case of the Levites, they were called to “slay every man his brother, and every man his companion, and every man his neighbor.” This was terrible work for flesh and blood; but the moment demanded it. God’s claims had been openly and grossly dishonored; human invention had been at work, with the graving-tool, and a calf had been set up; the glory of God had been changed into the similitude of an ox that eateth grass; and therefore all who were on the Lord’s side were called to gird on the sword. Nature might say, No; let us be tender and gentle and gracious. We shall accomplish more by kindness than by severity. It can do no good to wound people. There is far more power in love than in harshness. Let us love one another. Thus might nature throw out its suggestions—thus it might reason and argue; but the command was distinct and decisive, “Put every man his sword by his side.” The sword was the only thing when the golden calf was there. To talk of love at such a moment would be to fling overboard the just claims of the God of Israel. It belongs to the true spirit of obedience to render the very service which suits the occasion. A servant has no business to reason; he is simply to do as he is bid. To raise a question, or put forth a demur, is to abandon our place as a servant. It might seem most dreadful work to have to slay a brother, a companion, or a neighbor; but the word of the Lord was imperative. It left no room for evasion; and the Levites, through grace, yielded a full and ready obedience. “The children of Levi did according to the word of Moses.”

This is the only true path for those who will be God’s workers, and Christ’s servants, in this world where self-will is dominant. It is immensely important to have the truth of the lordship of Christ deeply engraved upon the heart. It is the only regulator of the course and conduct. It settles a thousand questions. If the heart be really subject to the authority of Christ, it is in readiness for any thing and every thing to which He calls us, be it to stand still or to go forward, to do little or much, to be active or passive. To a really obedient heart the question is not at all, What am I doing? or Where am I going? It is simply, Am I doing the will of my Lord?

Such was the ground occupied by Levi. And mark the divine comment on this, as given in Malachi.—“And ye shall know that I have sent this commandment unto you, that My covenant might be with Levi, saith the Lord of hosts. My covenant was with him of life and peace; and I gave them to him for the fear wherewith he feared Me, and was afraid before My name. The law of truth was in his mouth, and iniquity was not found in his lips: he walked with Me in peace and equity, and did turn many away from iniquity.” (Mal. ii. 4-6.) Mark also the blessing pronounced by the lips of Moses, “And of Levi he said, ‘Let thy Thummim and thy Urim be with thy holy one, whom thou didst prove at Massah, and with whom thou didst strive at the waters of Meribah; who said unto his father and to his mother, I have not seen him; neither did he acknowledge his brethren, nor knew his own children; for they have observed thy word and kept thy covenant. They shall teach Jacob thy judgments, and Israel thy law; they shall put incense before thee, and whole burnt-sacrifice upon thine altar. Bless, Lord, his substance, and accept the work of his hands: smite through the loins of them that rise against him, and of them that hate him, that they rise not again.’” (Deut. xxxiii. 8-11.)