Life Given for a Prey

Life Given for a Prey

Preached at Gower Street Chapel, London,
on June 28, 1868, by J. C. Philpot

"And do you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not– for, behold, I will bring evil upon all flesh, says the Lord. But your life will I give unto you for a prey in all places where you go." Jeremiah 45:5

These words were addressed to Baruch, and addressed to him under very peculiar circumstances. Those of you who are diligent readers and students of the word of God, will perhaps recollect the peculiar circumstances to which I have alluded. But, as I cannot expect that you all are either such diligent students, or should be able to call them immediately to mind– for some very good people have very bad memories– I will briefly mention what those circumstances were. And as the chapter is short I think I cannot do better than read a good part of it to you. It begins thus– The prophet Jeremiah gave a message to Baruch son of Neriah in the fourth year of the reign of Jehoiakim son of Josiah, after Baruch had written down everything Jeremiah had dictated to him. He said, "This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says to you, Baruch: You have said, 'I am overwhelmed with trouble! Haven't I had enough pain already? And now the Lord has added more! I am weary of my own sighing and can find no rest.' " Jeremiah 45:1-3

The verses which I have just read will give you a clue to the special circumstances under which I have intimated that these words were addressed to Baruch. The very date is significant. Baruch is said to have written these words in a book (or scroll, as the word means) at the dictation of Jeremiah in the fourth year of Jehoiakim. Now, if you will turn to chapter 36 of this prophet, you will find that– During the fourth year that Jehoiakim son of Josiah was king in Judah, the Lord gave this message to Jeremiah: "Get a scroll, and write down all my messages against Israel, Judah, and the other nations. Begin with the first message back in the days of Josiah, and write down every message you have given, right up to the present time." Jeremiah 36:1-2

Jeremiah, however, was at that time in prison, and was, therefore, not able himself to go forth and read the scroll to the people unto whom it was sent. Consequently, he sends for Baruch the son of Neriah, to write it for him. Whether there was some physical reason why he could not write it himself, as, for instance, his hands being chained, or whether it was more convenient to write by dictation, a thing which I often do myself, I cannot say; but he employs the pen of Baruch, who, therefore, wrote from his mouth all the words of the Lord which he had spoken unto him, on the scroll of a book.

Now these words were a denunciation of God's wrath upon Jerusalem and Judah, and his determination, if they repented not, to give them into the hands of the king of Babylon, who would bring upon that city swift and certain destruction. Baruch was to read this scroll in the house of the Lord, which he faithfully did; for he went up into the chamber or Gemariah, and there he read the words out of the scroll of the book. But he also read them in the ear of the princes, and they, struck with amazement and consternation at the contents of the scroll, mentioned it to the king. The king sent for the scroll that he might hear it read; but when he had heard read part of the scroll, about three leaves or rather columns, he took his penknife– he was sitting by the fire in his winter-house or winter-palace– cut it to pieces, and cast it into the fire until all the scroll was consumed.

Now, these were the circumstances under which the Lord sent this message by Jeremiah unto Baruch. The power of the king in those days was absolute. There was no check upon it either by law or custom; and this made the wrath of the king so dreadful. It was, as Solomon declares, "The wrath of a king is as messengers of death," (Prov. 16:14); for the messengers of death, that is the executioners, as we see was the case in John the Baptist, followed quickly upon the king's command. Joab found no protection from the wrath of the king even at the altar; for at the command of the king, Benaiah went up and fell upon him and slew him, as he afterwards did Shimei. Well, then, might Baruch dread the wrath of the king.

And as the word of God often gives us, by its graphic touches, incidental discoveries of men's natural disposition, I think we may gather from Baruch's language that he was naturally timid, and one might almost say, disposed to give way to fretfulness and complaining. But this very weakness, if such it were, of Baruch, did not escape the noticing eye, or was it unfelt by the compassionate heart of the God of Israel, who in all his people's affliction is afflicted. He had heard Baruch's passionate lament, and reminds him of it. "You did say, Woe is me now! for the Lord has added grief to my sorrow; I fainted in my sighing, and I find no rest." He had already been deeply plunged in sorrow. Doubtless he was one of the men whom Ezekiel saw in vision (Ezek. 9:4), as one of those upon whose forehead a mark was set, in that "they sighed and cried for all the abominations that were done in the midst of Jerusalem." And as believing the sure language of prophecy, that God would give Jerusalem into the hands of the Chaldeans, he might well have cause for sorrow, in seeing what a destruction was coming upon the city and the whole land. Day and night these trials, and no doubt he had others also of a more personal and peculiar nature, made him grieve and groan but now the Lord had added grief to his sorrow. He seemed to have as much before as, or even more than he could well bear. But now an additional load was laid upon his back; the weight of his cross was doubled, and the poignancy of grief was added to the load of sorrow.

How suitable are these words to many of the family of God. Like Baruch, they have their enduring sorrow, the weight of a daily cross which severely presses them down. But upon this often comes a keener, sharper, and more cutting trial. Say, for instance, that their daily cross in an afflicted body, or trying circumstances in providence, or a series of heavy family afflictions. These are their daily burdens; but upon the back of this may come some peculiarly distressing bereavement of wife, husband, or child– or powerful soul temptations, or keen spiritual distress, or a whole sea of disquieting doubts and fears, so as almost to remove the very foundation of their hope. When, then, to their daily cross is added some especially cutting grief, then they are ready to say with Baruch, "You have added grief to my sorrow. Was it not enough for me to have the weight and burden of a daily trial? Was not the cup already quite full? Why should this last drop of peculiar bitterness be added not only to make it overflow, but to make the whole draught full of gall and wormwood? Why should I have this peculiar grief sent me in addition to all the other crosses, losses, trials, and burdens with which I have been so long and so painfully exercised? It is more than I can bear; I faint in my sighing, and I find no rest."

Now, if this be your case– and doubtless I have before me some who have, perhaps even lately, had grief added to their sorrow, and thus can enter feelingly into the mournful language of Baruch– I have a message for you; I have something to say to you this morning from the Lord. And if you ask me what this message is, and what I have to speak to you in the name of the Lord, my answer shall be the words of our text, "Do you seek great things for yourself? seek them not– for, behold, I will bring evil upon all flesh, says the Lord– but your life will I give unto you for a prey in all places where you go."

We may observe, I think, in these words, four prominent features:

We have, first, a searching inquiry– "Do you seek great things for yourself?"

We have secondly, a faithful admonition– "Seek them not."

Thirdly, a solemn denunciation– "I will bring evil upon all flesh."

And fourthly, a gracious promise– "Your life will I give unto them for a prey in all places where you go."
 

I. A searching INQUIRY– "Do you seek great things for yourself?" The Lord reads the heart; we can merely see the countenance, or form our judgment of men from their actions; and though this latter is by no means a bad test of men's dispositions, yet there is in them often much that lurks in the inward recesses of their heart, which is manifested neither in their face nor by their conduct. Samuel, when he saw the stately height and manly form of Eliab, said at once, as if he were sure that he was the object of God's choice, "Surely the Lord's anointed is before him." But Samuel, like us, could neither read God's thoughts nor man's hidden devices. "But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him– for the Lord sees not as man sees; for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7.)

And as we cannot read the hearts of one another, so we but dimly and imperfectly read our own. Self-love hides from our view much of the secret depths of our heart; and temptation or opportunity will sometimes bring to light such hidden evils that we are ready to start back in horror from our own selves. All at once the lid is taken off, and we see unbelief, infidelity, blasphemy, obscenity, lasciviousness, adultery, envy, wrath, and murder, all seething as in a boiling pot, and ready to boil over. Now the Lord sees all this; nor is it ever hidden from him, though often hidden from us.

So it seems to me that the Lord, who read Baruch's heart to the very center, saw in him what was perhaps hidden not only from those who knew him, but hidden also from himself. There was then, it would seem, in Baruch's heart, what indeed is in the hearts of all, but in some working more strongly or more subtly than in others, an ambitious spirit seeking after great things. I judge this from the Lord putting the question so closely to him– "Do you seek great things for yourself?" Had he not been given to this propensity, the question would not have had that peculiar application to his case, nor carried with it such special rebuke. He might not have been conscious of this propensity, and his ambitious spirit might have worked in a very subtle and secret manner. As a gracious man, as one who feared and loved God above many, as Jeremiah's bosom friend and companion, as sympathizing and suffering with him in his afflictions and persecutions, and as honored of the Lord to write the words from Jeremiah's mouth, and to proclaim them to the people, he would hardly seem to have been, one would almost think, under the power of "secret ambition".

It was not a time, it was not a place, his was not a post wherein great things should be sought after. What was power in the court of a king like Jehoiakim? What was property in a land soon to be laid desolate? What was money, house, furniture, worldly luxuries in a city which was to be speedily burned with fire? Or if we suppose that Baruch coveted promotion as a prophet, to occupy Jeremiah's place when Jeremiah was shut up in prison, he must have seen and known that such a promotion would bring with it Jeremiah's afflictions. If he now said, "You have added grief to my sorrow; I faint in my sighing, and I find no rest," what would he say when cast into Jeremiah's dungeon? And yet with all this, the Lord, who reads all hearts, saw that there was in him an ambitious spirit, which he here reproves.

But let me now, turning from Baruch's case, apply it to our own; and to make my inquiry more searching, let me address it specially to you. Let me ask you, all of you, each of you individually, "Do you seek great things for yourself?" You may answer "No; I am not aware of any great things that I am seeking. I think, at least I hope, I am pretty moderate in my desires; and as to great things, I hardly know what you understand by them." But great and small are relative terms. What is great to one is small to another; and what is small to one is great to another. When, therefore, I put this searching inquiry, "Do you seek great things for yourself?" I must adapt my inquiry to the state of the case, to the circumstances of the people before me.

You may think that you are not seeking great things because you are not in a line of life which is usually considered great, even were you advanced in it much higher than you now stand; and thus you measure great things by a wrong standard, for you are looking at great and small as the world views them, and not as the word of God, or an enlightened conscience would consider them. You may also not be conscious of an ambitious spirit, and yet there may be working in your heart, unknown to yourself, an inordinate desire to rise out of present low and depressing circumstances, or a great dissatisfaction with your appointed lot of life, and a spirit of great restlessness to emerge out of it, and to advance yourself into a spot more gratifying to your pride, more pleasing to your flesh, more lifted up beyond that neglect or even contempt which is often cast upon you in that inferior condition, as you think it, that is, inferior in your opinion to your ability, skill, industry, age of life, and so on, which you now occupy. With such views and feelings you may be thinking that it is quite right and justifiable for yourself, or if not altogether for yourself, at any rate for your family, to do all that you can to get out of your present inferior position; and if this be your desire mainly, that you may live honestly and honorably, and owe no man any debt but the debt of love, you cannot be justly blamed.

But under this good appearance, under this lawful aim and object, there often lurks and works a proud, self-seeking, ambitious spirit which is seeking great things, that is, great to you, considering your station in life, which might not be great to another whose lot in providence is of a higher grade. Here we are apt to deceive ourselves. Let me then ask you, Are you content with that station in life in which God has seen fit to place you? Is there no grasping after something better, something greater, something higher and grander, something to make you more respectable before man and less dependent upon the providence of God? And how we see this ambitious spirit, this trying to rise, this grasping after something great, at least great relatively, if not absolutely, in every station in life.

How the professional man is ever seeking to be at the head of his profession, and frets and murmurs if outrun in the eager race, even though many are behind him probably as well skilled as he. How the tradesman is seeking if possible to enlarge his connection, add to his business, drive a flourishing trade, and is ever fixing his eye on those who seem to outstrip him in success, even though he has no real reason to complain of lack of income, and is doing far better than very many in the same line. How the laborer, to take another instance, is dissatisfied with his position, thinks himself hardly treated because others are preferred, grumbles at his wages though fully equal to his industry and skill, and is reaching after a post which, could he obtain it, he would not be able properly or successfully to fill.

Is there one here who does not think himself qualified for a higher post, or a better position than he now occupies, and does not secretly fret and murmur at the success of others, his self-love blinding him to the fact that they have better abilities, greater skill, more unwearied industry, or higher qualifications than he? Don't you want to live in a better house, have more money to spend, wear finer clothes, buy handsomer furniture, dress your children better, work less hard, and get more pay? Could we look into men's hearts, we would see how in every station of life, from the highest to the lowest, there was a restless discontent with their condition in life, an overlooking of the hand of God in providence which has done so much for them, and a continual reaching forth of anxious desire for something greater and better than they at present possess.

Thus far have I viewed this ambitious spirit, as manifesting itself in matters of providence, but now take the words in another sense; for the searching inquiry as to seeking great things for oneself reaches far beyond mere providential matters. Take, then,religion; that which concerns us most deeply; take that which we all of us more or less profess to have, or at least, hope to be found having in the great day. How often there is a seeking great things in religion.

How many ministers, for instance, are seeking after great gifts, thirsting after popularity, applause, acceptance among men. They are not satisfied with being simply and solely what God may make them by his Spirit and grace, with the acceptance that he may give them among some of his own people, and the blessing which he may make them to a scattered few here and there. This inferior position, as they consider it, so beneath their grace and gifts, their talents and abilities, does not satisfy their restless mind and aspiring turn. Their ambition is to stand at the very head of their peers, to be looked up to and sought after as a leader and a guide, to have a larger chapel, a fuller congregation, a better salary, and a wider field for the display of their gifts and abilities. Gladly would they stand apart from all others, brook no rival to their pulpit throne, and be lord paramount at home and abroad. And what is the consequence of this proud, ambitious spirit? What envy, what jealousy, what detraction do we see in men who want to stand at the top of the tree! And though these very things tend, and justly tend, to sink them lower in the estimation of men than they would otherwise be, yet how, again and again, do they seek to rise by standing, as it were, on the slain bodies of others.

How also in those who are not ministers, but who may occupy some lower part, and yet not an inconspicuous one, as say, deacons in a church, or as gifted members frequently called upon to pray in public– how many we see seeking after great gifts in prayer, so as to be more acceptable to the people than they at present feel that they are, and to be admired for their fluency, their variety, their fervency, their superiority to their brethren, who may, occasionally, take a part with them in the same service. O the pride of man's heart! How it will work and show itself even under a guise of religion and holiness.

How often, too, do we see men employing their time and abilities in the study of the Scriptures with scarcely a thought or a desire after any savor, sweetness, or power that may flow from God's word into their heart. How anxious, also, are others to penetrate into deep mysteries and acquire a knowledge of doctrine merely as doctrine without prayerful meditation, or any earnest cry that what they read may be made life and spirit to their souls, or may lead them into a believing, obedient knowledge of God's will, so as to do those things which are pleasing in his sight. Thus, instead of seeking to know and feel the power of God's word, that it may bring into their hearts pardon and peace, union and communion with the Father and his dear Son, deliverance from doubts, fears, and bondage, that they might walk before God in the light of his countenance, and bless and praise him with joyful lips, they are rather seeking after such great things, as men count them, which shall carry with them human praise, exalt them upon a seeming pedestal above others, and make men esteem, honor, and admire them for their great attainments.

Few can see that in religion, what are considered great things, are really very little, and what are considered little, are really very great. How few can see that a broken heart, a contrite spirit, a humble mind, a tender conscience, a meek, quiet, and patient bearing of the cross, a believing submission and resignation to the will of God, a looking to him, and to him alone, for all supplies in providence or in grace, with a continual seeking of his face and desiring nothing so much as the visitations of his favor; a loving, affectionate, forbearing, and forgiving spirit, a bearing of injuries and reproaches without retaliation, a liberal heart and hand, and a godly, holy, and separate life and walk, are the things which in God's sight are great; while a knowledge of doctrine, clear insight into gospel mysteries, and a ready speech are really very little things, and are often to be found side by side and hand in hand with a proud, covetous, worldly, unhumbled spirit, and a living in what is sinful and evil.

Now looking into your heart, unless God has humbled or broken you down, you will very probably find some of these ambitious aims secretly working there with greater or less power; and even if it is not manifested in word or action, there will be the feeling, the desire, the craving more or less clearly discovered to your view.

Now the Lord was determined that Baruch should not seek these great things. He therefore sent upon him continual disappointments. He led him into a path of daily sorrow; and at the particular period recorded in the chapter before us, he added grief to it. Seeing the necessity of breaking down this pride, humbling this ambition, and bringing him to a spot, that only spot of real safety, to be nothing good or great in himself, either in providence or grace, the Lord, in addition to the daily cross, sent him this special grief, and under the weight of it, he fainted in his sighing, and could find no rest. He was not, like most around him, blind to the signs of the times, or deaf to the threatenings of God by the mouth of his prophets. He knew that God would surely bring to pass his severe judgments denounced by Jeremiah against Jerusalem. He could see by the eye of faith, that the king of Babylon would take the city by force, and he knew well what scenes of horror would follow– such scenes as we find described in the Lamentations, when the priest and the prophet were slain in the sanctuary of the Lord, when the young and the old lay on the ground in the streets, when the virgins and young men fell by the sword, and they ravished the women in Zion and the maids in Judah. (Lam. 2:20-21; 5:11.)