4<\/strong>. by the way to the Red Sea<\/em> ] Throughout the whole of the detour no encampments are named until Israel reaches the region of Moab.<\/p>\n the soul of the people was<\/em> impatient<\/strong> ] lit. ‘was short.’ The opposite state is ‘long-suffering’; cf. Pro 14:29<\/span> (R.V. ‘hasty’ and ‘slow to anger’).<\/p>\n 4 9<\/strong>. The bronze serpent<\/em>. God did not at once take away the plague. Each individual received healing only when he performed an act of faith, by looking at the serpent. An early Jewish writer says that it was not the serpent that brought the Israelites healing, but the fact that they ‘lifted up their eyes and directed their heart towards their heavenly Father.’ This is one of the most familiar and famous of Biblical narratives, owing to our Lord’s reference to it, in Joh 3:14<\/span>, as typical of the ‘lifting up’ of the Son of Man. The close connexion between the plague and the instrument of healing is, to the Christian, symbolical of the fact that ‘Him who knew no sin he [God] made to be sin on our behalf’ (2Co 5:21<\/span>). It was traditionally believed that the bronze serpent which Moses erected was the same which existed in Hezekiah’s day. He destroyed it because it had long been an object of worship (2Ki 18:4<\/span>).<\/p>\n The direct route to Moab through the valleys of Edom being closed against them Num 20:20-21<\/span>, they were compelled to turn southward. Their course lay down the Arabah; until, a few hours north of Akaba (Ezion-Geber) the Wady Ithm opened to them a gap in the hostile mountains, allowed them to turn to their left, and to march northward toward Moab Deu 2:3<\/span>. They were thus for some days (see Num 22:1<\/span> note) in the Arabah, a mountain plain of loose sand, gravel, and detritus of granite, which though sprinkled with low shrubs, especially near the mouths of the wadys and the courses of the winter-torrents, furnishes extremely little food or water, and is often troubled by sand-storms from the shore of the gulf. Hence, the soul of the people was much discouraged because of the way.<\/P><\/p>\n Num 21:4-9<\/span><\/p>\n Much discouraged because of the way.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n On the discouragements of pious men<\/strong><\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>The way is circuitous, and therefore discouraging. Souls that are brought to Jesus, and delivered from the slavery of sin and the curse of the law, in their first ardour overlook trials, and think of nothing but enjoyments; they do not anticipate the fightings and fears that are the portion of Gods Israel. After a time, through want of watchfulness and care, the love of the espousals begins to decline, the world regains a degree of influence, the Spirit is grieved, and they fear God has become their enemy; they seem to themselves to go backward, and, indeed, are in danger of doing so, if they neglect to watch and pray; and much time is spent in mourning, retracing the ground that has been lost.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>The way is through a wilderness, and is, on that account, discouraging. In a spiritual sense, this world is a wilderness.<\/p>\n (1)<\/strong> It has no natural tendency to nourish the spiritual life; nothing is derived from it of that kind: though spiritual blessings are enjoyed in it.<\/p>\n (2)<\/strong> Again, there is much intricacy in the Christians pilgrimage. There were no paths in the wilderness; the Israelites could not have explored their way but by the direction of the pillar of fire and of the cloud: so the Christian often knows not how to explore his path.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>The way lies through a hostile country, and is, therefore, discouraging. The Christian soon learns that he has to fight against principalities, and powers, and spiritual wickedness. The flesh is also an enemy. The Christian experiences the workings of carnality, a hankering after that which is evil, and to which he may have been addicted; as the Israelites after the onions and garlic of Egypt.<\/p>\n 4. <\/strong>The false steps that are taken in the pilgrimage, and the consequent displeasure of God, are discouraging: there are so many errors and iniquities for which the Lord chastens His people, though He pardons sin as to its eternal consequences.<\/p>\n 5. <\/strong>The total defection of men from the path is a great discouragement to those who still continue in the way.<\/p>\n 6. <\/strong>The length of the way is discouraging. Though human life is short in itself, yet to our <\/strong>limited conception it appears long; especially when passed in suffering and pain. In protracted afflictions is seen the patience of the saints. Those saints, who endure in private, though unnoticed by their neighbours, and perhaps unknown, are the bravest heroes of the Christian camp.<\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>Remember, the way you are in, believer, is a right way, <\/strong>notwithstanding all that has been said. Infinite Wisdom has ordained it: and if you reach the end, you will be well repaid for all your toil, and will admire the whole of the pilgrimage: no sorrow will appear to have been too heavy; no path too gloomy.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>Another encouragement is, that God is with His people in the way. If He leads into the wilderness, He speaks comfortably; He spreads a table there, and His banner over us is love.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>Remember there is no other way that leads to heaven. You cannot reconcile the service of sin and the world with the hope of heaven and the enjoyment of everlasting life in that holy state, and in the presence of the holy God. Will you, then, forego the hope of Canaan; as you must when you yield to sin, when you give yourselves to the world? (R<\/em>. Hall, M. A<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Discouraged because of the way<\/strong><\/p>\n Discouraged<\/strong><\/p>\n Perhaps the way was rough and uneven, or foul and dirty; or it fretted them to go so far about, and that they were not permitted to force their passage through the Edomites country. Those that are of a fretful discontented spirit will always find something or other to make them uneasy. (Matthew Henry, D. D<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Discouragements<\/strong><\/p>\n Discouragement <\/em>is a kind of middle feeling: it is, therefore, all the more difficult to treat. It does not go so far down as cowardice, and has hardly any relation to a sense of triumph or over-sufficiency of strength; but the point of feeling lies between, deepening rather towards the lower than turning itself sunnily towards the higher. When that feeling takes possession of a man, the man may easily become the prey of well-nigh incurable dejection. There are necessary discouragements. How awful it would be if some men were never discouraged!–they could not bear themselves, and they could not act a beneficent part towards other people. It is well, there fore, for the strongest man occasionally to be set back half-a-days travelling and have to begin to-morrow morning at the point where he was yesterday morning. It is of God that the strongest man should sometimes have to sit down and take his breath. Seeing such a man tired, even but for one hour, poor weak pilgrims may say, If he, the man of herculean strength, must pause awhile, it is hardly to be wondered at that we poor weaklings should now and then want to sit down and look round and recover our wasted energy. We must not forget that a good many discouragements are of a merely physical kind. We do not consider the relation between temperament and religion as we ought to consider it. Be rational in your inquiry into the origin of your discouragement, and be a wise man in the treatment of the disease. There are exaggerated discouragements. Some men have a gift of seeing darkness. They do not know that there are two twilights–the twilight of morning, and the twilight of evening; they have only one twilight, and that is the shady precursor of darkness. We have read of a man who always said there was a lion in the way. He had a wonderful eye for seeing lions. Nobody could persuade him that he did not see a ravenous beast within fifty yards of the field he intended to plough. This is an awful condition under which to live the day of human life. But that lion is real to him. Why should we say roughly, There is no lion–and treat the man as if he were insane? To him, in his diseased condition of mind, there is a lion. We mast ply him with reason softly expressed, with sayings without bitterness; we must perform before him the miracle of going through the very lion he thought was in the way; and thus, by stooping to him and accommodating ourselves to him, without roughness or brusqueness, or tyranny of manner and feeling, must bring him round to the persuasion that he must have been mistaken. Discouragement does not end in itself. The discouraged man is in a condition to receive any enemy, any temptation, any suggestion that will even for a moment rid him of his intolerable pressure. Through the gate of discouragement the enemy wanders at will. Therefore be tender with the discouraged. Some men cannot stop up all the night of discouragement by themselves; but if you would sit up with them, if you would trim the light and feed the fire, and say they might rely upon your presence through one whole night at least, they might get an hours rest, and in the morning bless you with revived energy for your solicitude and attendance. Discouragements try the quality of men. You cannot tell what some men are when their places of business are thronged from morning until night, and when they are spending the whole of their time in receiving money. You might regard them as really very interesting characters; you might be tempted to think you would like to live with them: they are so radiant, so agreeable. If you could come when business is slack, when there are no clients, ,customers, patrons, or supporters to be seen, you would not know the lovely angels, you would not recognise the persons whom you thought so delightful. What is the cure of this awful disease of discouragement? The very first condition of being able to treat discouragement with real efficiency is to show that we know its nature, that we ourselves have wandered through its darkness, and that we have for the sufferer a most manly and tender sympathy. Then are there no encouragements to be recollected in the time of our dejection? Do the clouds really obliterate the stars, or only conceal them? The discouragements can be numbered,–can the encouragements be reckoned–encouragements of a commercial, educational, social, relative kind–encouragements in the matter of health or spirits or <\/strong>family delights? <\/em>(J. Parker, D. D<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Fleshpots or manna<\/strong><\/p>\n To all of us constantly a choice is offered; a choice of many names but of one significance, a choice which may be described variously, but which is fundamentally the same. <\/strong>It is the choice between law and licence; between pleasure and duty; between the <\/strong>flesh and the spirit; between God and Satan; between worldly life and heavenly hope; between intemperate sensualism and sober chastity. In some form or <\/strong>ether–great or small–this choice comes daily and almost hourly to all of us. But sometimes the choice comes to us in life in a concentrated, in almost a final form. The supreme hour, the distinct crisis, comes to us, at which we must definitely and consciously turn either to the right hand or to the left; must decide for ourselves between the God of our fathers and the strange gods of those among whom we dwell. It comes to all; it comes at any period of life; but perhaps in this deliberate form it comes mostly in youth. The boy at school has to make up his mind whether he will attach himself to bad companions and to forbidden pleasures, or fling them off with all the strength of his soul, and all the aid which he can win from prayer. The young woman has to decide between dress, self-assertion, the acceptance of flattery, the assertion of a spurious independence, the listening to the serpent tempter, the long gaze on the forbidden fruit; or, on the <\/strong>other hand, modesty, readiness to be guided, respect for the warnings of experience, the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit which is in the sight of God of <\/strong>great price. The youth of the poorer classes has to make up his mind whether he shall be a lounger at the tavern or a worshipper in the Church. But though the choice is in any case infinitely momentous, it is not necessarily final. There is, indeed, in human lives a law of habit, a law of continuity, which ever tends to make it final. Even the choice itself depends on all that has gone before it. The present decision is swayed by all the past. The shadow must have been creeping on the dial-plate before its black line marks the hour; and the clock must have accomplished its thousands upon thousands of tiny tickings before the great <\/strong>hammer-stroke can clash out that it is noon. And when the choice has been made, when we are definitely on the side of Satan or of God, the powers that make it the Armageddon field of their mighty battle do not at once or for ever leave it utterly alone. Now, the Israelites, of whom we read in this chapter, had long ago made their choice, and, by Gods grace, chosen right. They had been in the land of Egypt–the house of bondage. Coarse plenty, ignoble servitude, the starving of every noble impulse, the death of the soul amidst the comforts of the body–this had been their too common let. Fish and melons and leeks and cucumbers and garlic and the rich water of the Nile–these they had enjoyed in plenty, and to marry and bring up a low race of ignoble slaves. Myriads in this great city are at this moment in the land of Egypt, in the house of bondage; having plenty to eat <\/strong>and drink and live on–able to gratify every sense and sate every passion; but yet slaves–slaves of society, slaves of self, slaves of Satan, slaves of their own worst passions. And from this base, low life of serfdom and gluttony, one man awoke the Israelites. At first they misunderstood, rejected, vilified him. But at last Gods breath breathed upon these slain, and they began to live. The voice of Moses roused them. He thrilled them with the electric shock of liberty. So, making their brave choice, the children of Israel left the land of Egypt, the house <\/strong>of bondage, and went forth into the barren wilderness. It was a harder life, but a life oh, how far more noble! There was no garlic or leeks, but they were free. They were not fattening in fleshly comfort, but the great winds of God could now blow on the uplifted foreheads of men who were no longer slaves. The type of it all <\/strong>was this: there were no fleshpots, <\/strong>but there was manna; so men did eat <\/strong>angels food for He sent them meat enough. And what a difference between the <\/strong>two kinds of food! Not the coarse, steaming messes, reeking and rich, meet for the sensual and full-fed slave; but a honeydew which lay on the ground–small, white, glistering, exquisite, delicate as the food of heaven, but evanescent as morning tears. And in the first flush of freedom, in the purple dawn of enthusiasm, it was delightful, it was ennobling, to gather and to feed upon these pearls of the morning, which renewed the body, but did not encarnalise the soul. And they had made their choice, and they were glad like men. But then, as they plodded along the barren wastes, like the dead levels of middle life, came to them the temptations and the reactions of which I have spoken, and the necessity of renewing their choice, and not being discontented with it-of abiding by it, and not repenting it. The gross spell and baleful sorcery of Egypt returned like a wave of mud over the souls which God had freed. The spirit of the slave remained in them; the reek of Egypts fleshpots seemed to float back to their nostrils; they loathed the light bread; they sighed for the onions and the garlic and the rich water and fat, sluggish fields. Has not this sketch taught its own lessons? The one special lesson which I want to bring home is the training of the spiritual sense–the danger to the table of the Lord from the table of devils; the guilt of dallying with old temptations, the peril of furtive glances towards the doomed forsaken city. When Gods children hunger for righteousness, He impearls for them the ground with the manna-dews of heaven; but when they lust for quails, their food breeds plague and is loathsome unto them; and fiery serpents sting the diseased appetite, and at last the gorged prodigal craves, and craves vainly, for the husks of swine. For instance, God fills the world with water. The great sea rolls its pure, fresh waves of violet, and the tropic sun evaporates them, and they are distilled in the sweet laboratory of the air, and the wings of the winds winnow them free from the impurity amid the soft clouds of heaven, and they steal down in dew and silver rain, and hang like diamonds on the grass, and gladden the green leaves, and slide softly into the bosom of the rose, and bubbling through the mountain turf become the rivulets and the rivers, and are the sweet, wholesome, natural drink of man and beast, and we thank God for these springs of health, and disease drinks and sleeps. Now to the simple, natural, noble taste this is enough; it delights us. But man has distilled, in his laboratories, a fiery flaming spirit; and what sweetness is there in water to the coarsened palate, the inflamed thirst, the parched tongue, the vitiated taste, the depraved craving of the drunkard? How can that which is sweet and simple and natural contend with the brutifying attraction of oily, maddening, scorching drams, which poison and degrade? The taste for spiritual things–for the things of God–is like the pure, cool, delicious wholesome, but unmaddening, unseducing water; the drink of Egypt, the drink of the house of bondage, and the drink of the drunkard, and the madman, and the sensualist, is like that dissolved spirit of evil which is ruin, and sickness, and disease, and death. Again, the honest life–the life which scorns unjust gain, which hates the false balance and the deceitful weight; the life of the tradesman or the professional man who will not make haste to be rich, who will suffer no shoddy, no cheating, no adulteration, no double prices–its gains are steady, perhaps, and slow, and moderate. But when a man sees his unscrupulous neighbour, apparently prospering by fraud, getting rich by rapid dishonesty, gaining by gambling speculations, is it not woe to him if the manna of honesty begins to pall, and to grow insipid to his taste; if he begin to sigh for the fleshpots of Egypt rather than the manna of God; for the dross and refuse of base earthly success, rather than the pure, wholesome righteousness of just and honourable toil? Once more–the law of duty; of simple allegiance to the law of God; of self-restraint for His sake; this is manna. But if the youth tire at this, suffer it to pall upon him, murmur at it; revert in memory to conquered temptations; how can the taste of the manna survive the reek of these Egyptian fulnesses? How can the violets of purity and humility bloom and shed their fragrance under the coarse, foul upas tree of sensual passions? And in all these cases God–God in His mercy–sends fiery serpents to avenge in His children His forgotten, His violated laws. Oh! let Gods manna be dear to you; beware lest it pall upon you; beware how you grow weary of well-doing, and discontented with the gifts and ordinances of God. Oh, may God help us to cultivate all sweet and wholesome and spiritual tastes! If you do get to loathe the holy life–the manna of God–be sure that God has many a fiery serpent left in the wilderness for you; and oh! if you have already been bitten by that fiery serpent wherewith He punishes for sin, remember that As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so the Son of Man was lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (F. W. Farrar, D. D<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The Lord sent fiery serpents. In the valley of Seir<\/strong><\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>The hardships that lie in the path of obedience are the daily stumbling-rocks and rocks of offence.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>The next element in their sin was that they despised the gifts God gave them. There are many joys within our reach, many sources of strength and peace and gladness, all innocent and God-given–faculties to develop, friendships to cultivate, treasuries of wisdom and knowledge to ransack; yet how often are they stale and unprofitable to us–miserable bread!<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>Earthly and sensual desires. They ever carried Egypt with them. They rose to nothing noble or heroic.<\/p>\n 4. <\/strong>And was not this sin of Israel just the sin of which they were always guilty? Their murmurings are always to the same tune, their rebellions on the same lines and from the same motives. Sin is persistent. It becomes habitual. Day by day our souls take on a bias either for good or evil.<\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>Sorrow ever trails in the wake of sin.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>Sent by God.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>For their good.<\/p>\n Unreasonable complaint<\/strong><\/p>\n (1)<\/strong> Given by God;<\/p>\n (2)<\/strong> Miraculously.<\/p>\n Complaining punished<\/strong><\/p>\n To complain is to be atheistic, to murmur is to throw down the altar, to adopt a reproachful tone regarding the necessary education of life is to challenge Divine wisdom. The complaint was punished as complaining must always be. Fretfulness always brings its own biting serpent along with it. Charge what improbability you may upon the particular account of serpents in the text–get rid of them if you can from the historical record–there remains the fact, that the fretful spirit burns itself, the discontented soul creates its own agony, the mind wanting the sweet spirit of contentment stings itself night and day and writhes continually in great suffering. Discontent never brought joy, peevishness never tranquillised the home-life, fretfulness in the head of the house, or in any member of the house, creates a disagreeable feeling throughout the whole place. Complaint punishes itself. Every complaint has a corresponding serpent, and the serpent bites still. The people complained of the light food–then God sent them fiery serpents. There is always something worse than we have yet experienced. The children of Israel might have thought the bread was the worst fate theft could befall them. To be without water, and to be continually living upon manna–surely there was nothing worse? We cannot exhaust the Divine resources of a penal kind. There is always some lower depth, always some keener bite, always some more painful sting, always some hotter hell. Take care how you treat life. Do not imagine that you can complain without being heard, and that you can be heard without punishment immediately following. This is the mystery of life; this is the fact of life. (J. Parker, D. D<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We have sinned<\/strong>.–<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n The happiness of repentance<\/strong><\/p>\n The proverb is old: He runneth far that never returns. Seven times a day falleth the just man, but he returneth; he riseth again and is sorry. When David had sinned so fearfully he looked back and repented. When another time he had caused the people to be numbered and so sinned, his heart smote him and he was sorry for it. A wild race did the prodigal son run, but he returned. Peter sinned most grievously, but he went out and wept bitterly. Happy were all these for their returning. And blessed be our good God for evermore that pardoneth upon repentance. Observe in their repentance their confession to God, because they had spoken against Him, and to Moses because they had also transgressed against him. God knoweth all, saith Ambrose, but yet He looketh for thy confession. God is never more ready to cover than when we lay open. The fox, say our books, taketh his prey by the throat so to stop all noise. And the devil, that fox, by all means hindereth holy confession, and bringeth men to deal with their souls as men used to deal with old rusty armour, either never, or once in a year or two, formally and superficially to scour it over. But as a thorn in your finger will grieve you still till it be had out, so will sin in your conscience still vex till it be acknowledged and confessed. If we have offended man, reconciliation to him is necessary. But to thy God speak all, saith Chrysostom, even whatsoever thou art ashamed to speak unto man, for He expecteth thy voice although He knew it before, and He will never upbraid thee as man will. Note, they trust in Gods mercy that upon prayer He would pardon, and therefore they despair not. This ever must be joined to our repentance, or else it is a gulf that will swallow us up. What will tears and confession profit if there be no hope of pardon? My sin is greater than can be forgiven. But thou liest, Cain, saith St. Augustine, for the mercy of God is greater than all sinners misery. (Bp. Babington<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Make thee a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole<\/strong>.–<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n The first setting up of the brazen serpent<\/strong><\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>Assuredly there are times when Gods servants become discouraged. To our shame let us confess it. It is by faith that we live, but discouragement is generally the fruit of unbelief; and so by discouragement we cease to live a healthy and vigorous life, we begin to faint. The reason may be found in various things.<\/p>\n (1)<\/strong> Occasionally it springs out of disappointment. How tantalising to see the land, as through a wall of crystal, and yet to be unable to put foot upon it! There may be like trials in store for us. Possibly some of my Masters servants have entertained the notion that they have made amazing progress in the Divine life, and just then an event has occurred which showed them their own weakness, and they have been forced to weep in secret places and upbraid themselves, saying, After all this, am I no better than to be cast down about a trifle? Have I suffered so much, and yet is my progress so small?<\/p>\n (2)<\/strong> It was not, however, merely disappointment; it was much else. It was the unfriendliness of those who ought to have been most brotherly. Surely Edom ought to have granted his brother Israel the small privilege of passing through the country, seeing it was the near way to Canaan. I have known people of God much discouraged by the unfriendliness of those whom they thought to be their brethren and sisters in Christ. They went to them for sympathy, and they received rebuffs. Alas, that it should be often true that the souls of the people of God may be much discouraged because of the absence of Christian love! Resolve that it shall not be your fault.<\/p>\n (3)<\/strong> Undoubtedly, however, the soul of the people was much discouraged because of the length of the way. The nation had been forty years on the march. To certain of Gods people old age has brought much of heaviness by reason of its infirmities and afflictions. They often sigh, Why are His chariots so long in coming? They are willing in the spirit to abide the Masters will, but the flesh is weak, and they wonder whether the Lord has quite forgotten them.<\/p>\n (4)<\/strong> Then there was the fatigue of the way, for journeying through that wilderness was by no means an easy business, especially along the shore of the gulf. Very rugged to this day is the pathway there. The road is full of hills and valleys, and rugged ravines and sharp stones, and weary sands. Travelling there is as bad as travelling well can be. To some of Gods own children life is no parade upon a level lawn, but rough marching and deep wading. They have to take the bleak side of the hill; the wind blows upon them, and the sleet is driven in their eyes, and their home is but a cold harbour to them.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>Now, you are discouraged, you say, because of the way; but whose way is it? Have you chosen your own way and wilfully run against your duty and against the providence of God? Well, then, I say nothing about the consequences of such conduct, for they must be terrible. But if you have endeavoured to follow the Lord fully, and if you have tried to keep the path of His statutes, then it must be well with you. Why are you discouraged? Judge not by the sight of the eyes, nor by the hearing of the ears: let faith sit on the judgment-seat, and I am sure she will give forth this verdict–If the Lord wills it, it is well. If Jehovah leads the way the road must be right. Besides that, not only did God lead them but God carried them. He says Himself that He bare them on eagles wings: for though the ways were often rough, yet it is wonderful to remember that their feet did not swell, neither did their garments wax old upon them all those forty years. How could they be better off than to have heaven for their granary, the rocks for their wine-cellars, and God Himself for their Provider.<\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>Well, but first of all, they ought not to complain of being brought up out of Egypt, for that was a land of bondage where their male children had to perish in the river, and where they themselves longed to die, for life had become intolerable; and yet you see they are complaining that they were brought up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness as they said. Is it not possible that our rebellious hearts may even complain of Gods mercy? For want of something to murmur at, discouraged ones will pick holes in the goodness of God. What a pity that it should be so!<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>Next, look at their complaint of having no food: There is no bread, neither is there any water. It was a great falsehood. There was bread, they had to admit that fact in the next breath: but then they did not call the manna bread. They called it by an ugly name in the Hebrew. The water, too, was not muddy and thick like the water of the Nile; it was bright, clear, pure water from the rock; and therefore they would not call it water. They wanted water with substance in it which would leave grit between their teeth, and as the stream which leaped from the flinty rock was pure crystal they would not call it water. Have you not known people to whom God has given great mercy, and yet they have talked as if they were quite deserted? Unbelief is blind, just as surely as faith is far-seeing. Unbelief enjoys nothing, just as faith rejoices in everything.<\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>Sometimes they may be new trials.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>In some Christians they may be the uprisings of their own corruptions.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>Or, it may be, that God wilt let Satan loose upon us if we disbelieve.<\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>Confession. We have sinned.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>The second help was that Moses prayed for the people.<\/p>\n So our great cure against fiery serpents, horrible thoughts, and temptations, is intercession. If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. If we have grown downhearted and discouraged, and have sinned by unbelieving utterances, let us go with our poor, little, trembling faith, and ask the Divine Interposer to stand before God on our behalf, and pray for us that our transgressions may be blotted out.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>But now comes the great remedy. After their confession and the prayer of their mediator, the Lord bade Moses make a brazen serpent and lift it up, that they might look upon it and live. When I first came to Christ as a poor sinner and looked to Him, I thought Him the most precious object my eyes had ever lit upon; but this night I have been looking to Him while I have been preaching to you, in remembrance of my own discouragements, and my own complainings, and I find my Lord Jesus dearer than ever. I have been seriously ill, and sadly depressed, and I fear I have rebelled, and therefore I look anew to Him, and I tell you that lie is fairer in my eyes to-night than He was at first. The brazen serpent healed me when first I saw the Lord; and the brazen serpent heals me to-night and shall do so till I die. Look and live is for saints as well as for sinners. (C. H. Spurgeon<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Mans ruin and Gods remedy<\/strong><\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>The first thing is thy sin. I hear thee say, Yes, I know I am a sinner as well as the rest of mankind; but I am not content with that confession, nor is God content with it either. Ah! ye are without Christ, remember, not only is the world lost, but you are lost; not only has sin defiled the <\/strong>race, but you yourself are stained by sin. Come, now, take the universal charge home to yourself. How many have your sins been? Count them, if you can. There is nothing to be gotten by hiding your sins. Theyll spring up, if you dig deep as hell to hide them. Why not now be honest, and look at them to-day, for theyll look at you by and by, when Christ shall come in the clouds of judgment?<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>Sinner, thou hast not only thy sin to trouble thee, but there is the sentence of condemnation gone out against thee. Ye are condemned already. What though no officer has arrested you, though death has not laid his cold hand upon you, yet Scripture saith, He that believeth not is condemned already, because he believeth not on the Son of God. I ask you this, whether you do not deserve it? If I never committed another sin, my past sins would fully justify the Lord in permitting me to go down alive into <\/em>the pit. Now, these two things are enough to make any man tremble, if he did but feel them–his sin and his condemnation. But I have a third to mention.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>Sinner, there is this to aggravate thy case and increase thine alarm–thy helplessness, thy utter inability to do anything to save thyself, even if God should offer thee the chance. Thou art dead in trespasses and sins. Talk of performing good works–thou canst not. But thou sayest, I will repent. Repentance is not possible to thee as <\/strong>thou art, unless God gives it to thee. There is no door of mercy left for you by the law, and even by the gospel there is no door of mercy which you have power to enter, apart from the help which Christ affords you. If you think you can do anything, you have yet to unlearn that foolish conceit. Now have I not indeed described a horrible position for a sinner to be in–but there is <\/strong>something more remaining, a fourth thing.<\/p>\n 4. <\/strong>Sinner, thou art not only guilty of past sin, and condemned for it, <\/strong>thou art not only unable, but if thou wert able, thou art so bad that thou wouldst never be willing to do anything that could save <\/strong>thyself. For this know–thy nature is totally depraved. Thou lovest that which is evil, and not that which is good.<\/p>\n 1. <\/strong>I charge you with sin. Now in Christ Jesus behold the sinners substitute–the sin-offering. When I look at myself I think it would need much to redeem me, but when I see Christ dying I think He could redeem me if I were a million times as bad as I am. Now remember Christ not only paid barely enough for us, He paid more than enough. The Apostle Paul says, His grace abounded–superabounded, says the Greek. Christs redemption was so plenteous, that had God willed it, if all the stars of heaven had been peopled with sinners, Christ need not have suffered another pang to redeem them all–there was a boundless value in His precious blood. And, sinner, if there were so much as this, surely there is enough for thee.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>And then again, if thou art not satisfied with Christs sin-offering, just think a moment; God is satisfied, God the Father is content, and must not thou be? The Judge says, I am satisfied; let the sinner go free, for I have punished the Surety in his stead and if the Judge is satisfied, surely the criminal may be.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>In regard to the third particular. Our utter helplessness is such, that as I told you, we are unable to do anything. Yes, and I want you to look at Christ; was not He unable, too? You, in your father Adam, were once strong, but you lost your strength. Christ, too, was strong, but He laid aside all His omnipotence. See Him. The hand that poises the world hangs on a nail. See Him. The shoulders that supported the skies are drooping over the Cross. Look at Him. The eyes whose glances light up the sun are sealed in darkness. Look away from your own weakness to His weakness, and remember that in His weakness He is strong, and in His weakness you are strong too. Go see His hands; they are weak, but in their weakness they are stretched out to save you. Look at His eyes; they are closing in death, but from them comes the ray of light that shall kindle your dark spirit. Unable though thou art, go to Him who Himself was crucified through weakness, and remember that now He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him. I told you you could not repent, but if you go to Christ He can melt your heart into contrition, though it be as hard as iron. I said you could not believe; but if you sit down and look at Christ, a sight of Christ will make you believe, for He is exalted on high to give repentance and remission of sins.<\/p>\n 4. <\/strong>And then the fourth thing. Oh, cries one, you said we were too estranged to be even willing to come to Christ. I know you were; and therefore it is He came down to you. You would not come to Him, but He comes to you, and though you are very evil, He comes with sacred magic in His arm, to change your heart. (C. H. Spurgeon.<\/em>)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The brazen serpent; an emblem of heavens antidote in the gospel of Christ<\/strong><\/p>\n 1.<\/strong> The affliction under which the Jews were now suffering, resembles sin in that it was–<\/p>\n (1)<\/strong> Imparted;<\/p>\n (2)<\/strong> Painful;<\/p>\n (3)<\/strong> Mortal.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>Dissimilar, in that<\/p>\n (1)<\/strong> One was material, the other is spiritual.<\/p>\n (2)<\/strong> One was a calamity, the other is a crime.<\/p>\n (3)<\/strong> The one would necessarily end in death, the other might continue for ever.<\/p>\n 1.<\/strong> One was apparently arbitrary, the other is manifestly adapted.<\/p>\n 2. <\/strong>The one was insensible to the sufferer, the other is filled with sympathy.<\/p>\n 3. <\/strong>The one was local in its aspect, the other is worldwide in its bearing.<\/p>\n 4. <\/strong>The one was temporary in its efficacy, the other is perpetual.<\/p>\nFuente: The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges<\/b><\/i><\/h4>\n
Fuente: The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges<\/b><\/i><\/h4>\n
Fuente: Albert Barnes’ Notes on the Bible<\/b><\/i><\/h4>\n
I. <\/strong>I shall point out the discouragements in the way; and, in doing this, I shall keep my eye on the pilgrimage of the people who were originally referred to is the text, and thence draw my chief illustrations.<\/p>\n
II. <\/strong>I shall now direct you to some considerations to remove your discouragements.<\/p>\n
I<\/strong>. <\/em><\/strong>These words are applicable to Gods people now.<\/p>\n
II. <\/strong>These words are applicable to those who have been Gods people. Do not many go back spiritually? Some tire of Gods service and abandon it.<\/p>\n
III. <\/strong>These words are applicable to those who neither have been nor are Gods people. Not far from the kingdom of God–yet not happy. (T. R. Stevenson<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/strong><\/p>\n
I<\/strong>. <\/em><\/strong>Sin. Its first characteristic was complaining against God and Gods guidance.<\/p>\n
II. <\/strong>Suffering.<\/p>\n
III. <\/strong>Salvation. (R. D. Shaw, B. D<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I<\/strong>. <\/em><\/strong>What it was that they despised. Bread–<\/p>\n
II. <\/strong>The unreasonableness of the complaint. Had nothing else on which to depend during journey.<\/p>\n
III. <\/strong>The causes of disgust. Forgetfulness, weariness, ingratitude. (Daniel Katterns<\/em>.)<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I<\/strong>. <\/em><\/strong>Discouragement. Because of the way.<\/p>\n
II. <\/strong>Complaint. Spake against God and against Moses. Some of us have need to be cautioned against letting the spirit of discouragement hurry us on to quarrelling with God and questioning His love. It is ill for a saint to strive with his Saviour. When these people made their first complaint it was a singular one. It was a complaint about having been brought out of Egypt. Wherefore have ye brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?<\/p>\n
III. <\/strong>Punishment. Fiery serpents.<\/p>\n
IV. <\/strong>Remedy.<\/p>\n
I<\/strong>. <\/em><\/strong>Man, thou art ruined! The children of Israel in the wilderness were bitten with fiery serpents, whose venom soon tainted their blood, and after intolerable pain brought on death. Thou art much in the same condition. Oh, sinner, there are four things that stare thee in the face, and should alarm thee!<\/p>\n
II. <\/strong>Having thus set before you the hard part of the subject–the sinners ruin–I now come to preach of his remedy. A certain school of physicians tells us that like cures like. Whether it be true or not in medicine, I know it is true enough in theology. When the Israelites were bitten with the fiery serpents, it was a serpent that made them whole. And so you lost and ruined creatures are bidden now to look to Christ suffering and dying, and you will see in Him the counterpart of what you see in yourselves.<\/p>\n
I. <\/strong>The antidote provided in the gospel is for a most lamentable evil.<\/p>\n
II. <\/strong>The antidote provided in the gospel originated in the sovereignty of God. Points of difference between the remedies.<\/p>\n
III. <\/strong>The antidote provided in the gospel requires the personal application of the sufferers.<\/p>\n