A Tight Grip
2Sa_23:10 : ’93And his hand clave unto the sword.’94
A great general of King David was Eleazar, the hero of the text. The Philistines opened battle against him, and his troops retreated. The cowards fled. Eleazar and three of his comrades went into the battle and swept the field, for four men with God on their side are stronger than a whole regiment with God against them. ’93Fall back!’94 shouted the commander of the Philistine army. The cry ran along the host: ’93Fall back!’94 Eleazar having swept the field throws himself on the ground to rest, but the muscles and sinews of his hand had been so long bent around the hilt of the sword that the hilt was imbedded in the flesh, and the gold wire of the hilt had broken through the skin of the palm of the hand, and he could not drop this sword which he had so gallantly wielded. ’93His hand clave unto the sword.’94 That is what I call magnificent fighting for the Lord God of Israel. And we want more of it. I propose to show you how Eleazar took hold of the sword and how the sword took hold of Eleazar. I look at Eleazar’92s hand, and I come to the conclusion that he took the sword with a very tight grip. The cowards who fled had no trouble in dropping their swords. As they fly over the rocks, I hear their swords clanging in every direction. It is easy enough for them to drop their swords. But Eleazar’92s hand clave unto the sword.
In the Christian conflict, we want a tighter grip of the Gospel weapons, a tighter grasp of the two-edged sword of the truth. It makes me sick to see those Christian people who hold only a part of the truth, and let the rest of the truth go, so that the Philistines, seeing the loosened grasp, wrench the whole sword away from them. The only safe thing for us to do is to put our thumb on the Book of Genesis and sweep our hand around the Book until the New Testament comes into the palm, and keep on sweeping our hand around the Book until the tips of the fingers clutch at the words: ’93In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.’94 I like an infidel a great deal better than I do one of these namby-pamby Christians who hold a part of the truth and let the rest go. By miracle God preserved this Bible just as it is, and it is a Damascus blade. The severest test to which a sword can be put in a sword factory is to wind the blade around a gun barrel like a ribbon, and then when the sword is let loose it flies back to its own shape. So the sword of God’92s truth has been fully tested, and it is bent this way and that way, and wound this way and that way, but it always comes back to its own shape. Think of it! A Book written eighteen centuries ago, and some of it thousands of years ago, and yet in our time the average sale of this Book is more than twenty thousand copies every week, and more than a million copies a year. I say now that a book which is divinely inspired and divinely kept, and divinely scattered is a weapon worth holding a tight grip of.
Bishop Colenso will come along and try to wrench out of your hand the five books of Moses, and Strauss will come along and try to wrench out of your hand the miracles, and Renan will come along and try to wrench out of your hand the entire life of the Lord Jesus Christ, and your associates in the shop, or the factory, or the banking-house, will try to wrench out of your hand the entire Bible; but in the strength of the Lord God of Israel, and with Eleazar’92s grip, hold on to it. You give up the Bible, you give up any part of it, and you give up pardon and peace and life and heaven.
Do not be ashamed to have the world know that you are a friend of the Bible. This Book is the friend of all that is good, and it is the sworn enemy of all that is bad. An eloquent writer recently gives an incident of a very bad man who stood in a cell of a Western prison. This criminal had gone through all styles of crime, and he was there waiting for the gallows. ’93The convict standing there at the window of the cell,’94 this writer says, ’93looked out and declared, ’91I am an infidel.’92 He said that to all the men and women and children who happened to be gathered there, ’91I am an infidel,’92’93 and the eloquent writer says, ’93Every man and woman there believed him.’94 The writer goes on to say, ’93If he had stood there saying, ’91I am a Christian,’92 every man and woman would have said, ’91He is a liar!’92’93 This Bible is the sworn enemy of all that is wrong, and it is the friend of all that is good. Oh, hold on to it. Do not take part of it and throw the rest away. Hold on to all of it. There are so many people now who do not know. You ask them if the soul is immortal, and they say, ’93I guess it is, I don’92t know; perhaps it is, perhaps it isn’92t.’94 Is the Bible true? ’93Well, perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn’92t; perhaps it may be figuratively, and perhaps it may be partly, and perhaps it may not be at all.’94 They despise what they call the apostolic creed; but if their own creed were written out it would read like this: ’93I believe in nothing, the maker of heaven and earth, and in nothing which it hath sent, which nothing was born of nothing, and which nothing was dead and buried and descended into nothing, and arose from nothing, and ascended to nothing, and now sitteth at the right hand of nothing, from which it will come to judge nothing. I believe in the holy agnostic church and in the communion of nothingarians, and in the forgiveness of nothing, and the resurrection of nothing, and in the life that never shall be. Amen!’94 That is the creed of tens of thousands of people in this day. If you have a mind to adopt such a theory I will not. ’93I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, and in the holy Catholic Church, and in the communion of saints, and in the life everlasting. Amen.’94 When I see Eleazar taking such a stout grip of the sword in the battle against sin and for righteousness, I come to the conclusion that we ought to take a stouter grip of God’92s eternal truth, the sword of righteousness.
As I look at Eleazar’92s hand I also notice his spirit of self-forgetfulness. He did not notice that the hilt of the sword was eating through the palm of his hand. He did not know it hurt him. As he went out into the conflict he was so anxious for the victory he forgot himself, and that hilt might go ever so deeply into the palm of his hand, it could not disturb him. ’93His hand clave unto the sword.’94 My brothers and sisters, let us go into the Christian conflict with the spirit of self-abnegation. Who cares whether the world praises us or denounces us? What do we care for misrepresentation, or abuse, or persecution in a conflict like this? Let us forget ourselves. That man who is afraid of getting his hand hurt will never kill a Philistine. Who cares whether you get hurt or not, if you get the victory? How many Christians there are who are all the time worrying about the way the world treats them. They are so tired, and they are so abused, and they are so tempted, when Eleazar did not think whether he had a hand, or an arm, or a foot. All he wanted was victory.
We see how men forget themselves in worldly achievement. We have often seen men who in order to achieve worldly success will forget all physical fatigue and all annoyance and all obstacle. Just after the battle of Yorktown, in the American Revolution, a musician wounded was told he must have his limbs amputated, and they were about to fasten him to the surgeon’92s table’97for it was long before the merciful discovery of anaesthetics. He said, ’93No, don’92t fasten me to that table; get me a violin.’94 A violin was brought to him, and he said, ’93Now go to work as I begin to play,’94 and for forty minutes, during the awful pangs of amputation, he moved not a muscle nor dropped a note, while he played some sweet tune. Is it not strange that with the music of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and with this grand march of the Church militant on the way to become the Church triumphant, we cannot forget ourselves and forget all pang and all sorrow and all persecution and all perturbation?
How much men will endure for worldly knowledge and for worldly success, and yet how little we endure for Jesus Christ. How many Christians there are that go around saying, ’93O my hand, my hand, my hurt hand; don’92t you see there is blood on the hand and there is blood on the sword?’94 while Eleazar with the hilt imbedded in the flesh of his right hand, does not know it.
Must I be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize
Or sailed through bloody seas?
What have we suffered in comparison with those who expired of suffocation, or were burned, or were chopped to pieces for the truth’92s sake? We talk of the persecution of olden times. There is just as much persecution going on now in various ways. In 1849, in Madagascar, eighteen men were put to death for Christ’92s sake. They were to be hurled over the rocks, and before their execution, in order to make their death the more dreadful in anticipation, they were put in baskets and swung to and fro over the precipice that they might see how many hundred feet they would have to be dashed down, and while they were swinging in these baskets over the rocks they sang:
Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Then they were dashed down to death. Oh, how much others have endured for Christ, and how little we endure for Christ. We want to ride to heaven in a Pullman sleeping-car, our feet on soft plush, the bed made up early so we can sleep all the way, the black porter of Death to wake us up only in time to enter the golden city. We want all the surgeons to fix our hand up. Let them bring on all the lint and all the bandages and all the salve, for our hand aches, while Eleazar does not know his hand is hurt. ’93His hand clave unto the sword.’94
As I look at Eleazar’92s hand, I come to the conclusion that he has done a great deal of hard hitting. I am not surprised when I see that these four men’97Eleazar and his three companions’97drove back the army of Philistines, that Eleazar’92s sword clave to his hand, for every time he struck an enemy with one end of the sword, the other end of the sword wounded him. When he took hold of the sword, the sword took hold of him. We have found that an enemy cannot be conquered by rose water and soft speeches. It must be sharp stroke and straight thrust. There is intemperance, and there is fraud, and there is gambling, and there is lust, and there are ten thousand of the hosts of iniquity, armed Philistine iniquity. How are they to be captured and overthrown? Soft sermons in morocco cases, laid down in front of an exquisite audience, will not do it. You have got to call things by their right name. We have got to expel from our churches Christians who eat the sacrament on Sunday and devour widows’92 houses all the week. We have got to stop our indignation against the Hittites and the Jebusites and the Gergishites, and let those poor wretches go, and apply our indignation to the modern transgressions which need to be dragged out and slain. Ahabs here. Herods here. Jezebels here. The massacre of the infants here. Strike for God so hard that while you slay the sin, the sword will adhere to your own hand. I tell you, we need a few John Knoxes and John Wesleys in the Christian Church today. The whole tendency is to refine on Christian work. We keep on refining on it, until we send apologetic word to inquity we are about to capture it. And we must go with sword silver-chased and presented by the ladies, and we must ride on white palfrey under embroidered housings, putting the spurs in only just enough to make the charger dance gracefully, and then we must send a missive, delicate as a wedding card, to ask the old black giant of sin if he will not surrender. Women, saved by the grace of God and on glorious mission sent, detained from Sabbath classes because their new hat is not done. Methodist churches that once shook our cities with great revivals, sending around to ask some demonstrative worshiper, if he will not please to say ’93amen’94 and ’93hallelujah’94 a little softer. It seems as if in our churches we wanted a baptism of cologne and balm of a thousand flowers, when we actually need a baptism of fire from the Lord God of Pentecost. But we are so afraid somebody will criticise our sermons, or criticise our prayers, or criticise our religious work, that our anxiety for the world’92s redemption is lost in the fear we will get our hand hurt, whereas Eleazar went into the conflict, ’93and his hand clave unto the sword.’94
But I see, in the next place, what a hard thing it was for Eleazar to get his hand and his sword parted. The muscles and the sinews had been so long grasped around the sword, he could not drop it when he attempted to drop it, and his three comrades, I suppose, came up and tried to help him, and they bathed the back part of the hand, hoping the sinews and muscles would relax. But no, ’93His hand clave to the sword.’94 Then they tried to pull open the fingers and to pull back the thumb; but no sooner were they pulled back than they closed again, ’93and his hand clave unto the sword.’94 But after a while they were successful, and then they noticed that the curve in the palm of the hand corresponded exactly with the curve of the hilt.
You and I have seen it many a time. There are in the United States today many aged ministers of the Gospel. They are too feeble now to preach. In the church records the word opposite their name is ’93emeritus,’94 or the words are, ’93a minister without charge.’94 They were a heroic race. They had small salaries, and but few books, and they swam spring freshets to meet their appointments. But they did in their day a mighty work for God. They took off more of the heads of Philistine iniquity than you could count from noon to sundown. You put that old minister of the Gospel now into a prayer-meeting, or occasional pulpit, or a sick room where there is some one to be comforted, and it is the same old ring to his voice and the same old story of pardon and peace and Christ and heaven. His hand has so long clutched the sword in Christian conflict he cannot drop it. ’93His hand clave unto his sword.’94
I had in my parish in Philadelphia a very aged man who in his early life had been the companion and adviser of the early Presidents, Madison and Monroe. He had wielded vast influence, but I only knew him as a very aged man. The most remarkable thing about him was his ardor for Christ. When he could not stand up in the meetings without propping, he would throw his arm around a pillar of the church, and though his mind was partially gone, his love for Christ was so great that all were in deep respect and profound admiration, and were moved when he spoke. I was called to see him die. I entered the room, and he said: ’93Mr. Talmage, I cannot speak to you now.’94 He was in a very pleasant delirium, as he imagined he had an audience before him. He said: ’93I must tell these people to come to Christ and prepare for heaven.’94 And then in this delirium, both arms lifted, this octogenarian preached Christ and told of the glories of the world to come. There, lying on his dying pillow, his dying hand clave to the sword.
If there ever was any one who had a right to retire from the conflict it was old Joshua. Soldiers come back from the war having the names of the battles on their flags, showing where they distinguished themselves, and it is a very appropriate inscription. Look at that flag of old General Joshua. On it, Jericho, Gibeon, Hazar, City of Ai, and instead of the stars sprinkled on the flag, the sun and the moon which stood still. There he is, a hundred and ten years old. He is lying flat on his back, but he is preaching. His dying words are a battle charge against idolatry, and a rallying cry for the Lord of Hosts as he says: ’93Behold, this day I go the way of all the earth, and God hath not failed to fulfil His promise concerning Israel.’94 His dying hand clave unto the sword.
There is the headless body of Paul on the road to Ostia. His great brain and his great heart have been severed. The elmwood rods had stung him fearfully. During that eventful voyage, years before, when the corn ship broke up he swam ashore, coming up drenched with the brine. Every day since that day when the horse reared under him in the suburbs of Damascus, as the supernatural light fell, down to this day, when he is about sixty years of age, and prematurely old and decrepit from the prison cell of the Mamartine, he has been outrageously treated, and he is waiting to die. How does he spend his last hours? Telling the world how badly he feels, and describing the rheumatism that he got in prison, the rheumatism afflicting his limbs, or the neuralgia piercing his temples, or the thirst that fevers his tongue? Oh, no. His last words are the battle shout for Christendom: ’93I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand; I have fought the good fight.’94 And so his dying hand clave unto the sword.
It was in the front room on the second floor that my father lay a-dying. It was Saturday morning, four o’92clock. Just three years before that day, my mother had left him for the skies, and he had been homesick to join her company. He was eighty-three years of age. Ministers of the Gospel came in to comfort him, but he comforted them. How wonderfully the words sounded out from his dying pillow: ’93I have been young and now am I old, yet have I never seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging bread.’94 They bathed his brow, and they bathed his hands, and they bathed his feet, and they succeeded in straightening out the feet; but they did not succeed in bathing open the hand so it would stay open. They bathed the hand open, but it came shut. They bathed it open again, but it came shut. What was the matter with the thumb and the fingers of that old hand? Ah! it had so long clutched the sword of Christian conflict that ’93his hand clave unto the sword.’94
I preach this sermon as a tonic. I want you to hold the truth with ineradicable grip, and I want you to strike so hard for God that it will react, and while you take the sword the sword will take you. Several years ago, the officers of the Northern army assembled at Denver, and the officers of the Southern army at Lexington. Soldiers coming together are very apt to recount their experiences and to show their scars. Here is a soldier who pulls up his sleeve, and says: ’93There, I was wounded in that arm,’94 and shows the scar. And another soldier pulls down his collar, and says, ’93There, I was wounded in the neck.’94 And another soldier says, ’93I have had no use of that limb since the gunshot fracture.’94 When the battle of life is over, and the resurrection has come, and our bodies rise from the dead, will we have on us any scars showing our bravery for God? Christ will be there all covered with scars. Scars on the brow, scars on the hand, scars on the feet, scars all over the heart won in the battle of redemption. And all heaven will sob aloud with emotion as they look at these scars. Ignatius will be there, and he will point out the place where the tooth and paw of the lion seized him in the Coliseum, and John Huss will be there, and he will show where the coal first scorched the foot on that day when his spirit took wing of flame from Constance. M’92Millan, and Campbell, and Freeman, American missionaries in India, will be there’97the men who with their wives and children went down in the awful massacre at Cawnpore, and they will show where the daggers of the Sepoys struck them. The Waldenses will be there, and they will show where their bones were broken on that day when the Piedmontese soldiery pitched them over the rocks. And there will be those there who took care of the sick and who looked after the poor, and they will have evidences of earthly exhaustion. And Christ, with His scarred hand waving over the scarred multitude, will say, ’93You suffered with Me on earth; now be glorified with Me in heaven.’94 And then the great organs of eternity will take up the chant, and St. John will play: ’93These are they who came out of great tribulation and had their robes washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb.’94
But what will your chagrin and mine be if it shall be told that day on the streets of heaven that on earth we shrank back from all toil and sacrifice and hardship. No scars to show the heavenly soldiery. Not so much as one ridge on the palm of the hand to show that just once in all this battle for God and the truth, we grasped the sword so firmly, and struck so hard that the sword and the hand stuck together, and the hand clave to the sword. O my Lord Jesus, rouse us to Thy service.
Thy saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer though they die;
They see the triumph from afar,
And seize it with the eye.
When that illustrious day shall rise,
And all thy armies shine
In robes of victory through the skies,
The glory shall be thine.
Autor: T. De Witt Talmage