Biblical Essays
DAVID'S COMPANIONS AND PAUL'S FRIENDS
(2 Samuel 23; Romans 16)

Precious are those specific links which are formed by the hand of God. There is the great “general link” which connects us with all the children of God – all members of the body of Christ; but there are “specific” links which we should recognize and seek to strengthen and perpetuate in every right way.

Let us briefly consider David’s mighty men (2 Sam. 23), and Paul’s friends at Rome (Rom. 16). Out of the many thousands of Israel – circumcised members of the congregation, children of Abraham – there were comparatively few who distinguished themselves by personal devotedness and wholehearted consecration. Even among those few there were marked differences. There were “the thirty”, “the three”, and “the first three”. Each gets his own specific place on the page of the book of responsible, practical life, according to what he was or what he had done. Also, we are told particularly what each one did and how he did it. Nothing is forgotten, but all is faithfully recorded; and no one ever gets another’s place. Each does his own work, fills his own niche, and gets his own reward.¹

The same is true in Romans 16. Nothing can be more marked or striking than the beautiful discrimination characterizing this exquisite Scripture. First, consider the way in which Phebe is commended to the assembly at Rome. “I commend unto you Phebe our sister.” On what ground does he commend her? Is it that she is “breaking bread” or “in fellowship” at Cenchrea? No; but “she is a servant of the assembly”; and “she has been a succourer of many, and of myself also.”

In touching and forcible language, he presents the moral basis of her claim upon the hospitality and succour of the assembly. To say that a person is “breaking bread” is no guarantee of personal devotedness. It ought to be; but it is not. Thus, to expect the sympathy, succour, and confidence of the Lord’s people on that ground is unwarrantable. When he asks for the prayers of the brethren, even the blessed apostle himself presents the moral basis of his claim. “Brethren, pray for us.” On what ground does he ask for prayer? Is it because we are “breaking bread” or “in fellowship”? Nothing of the kind; but because “we trust we have a good conscience, in all things willing to live honestly.”

Then mark the notice of Priscilla and Aquila. What had they done? They had been the apostle’s helpers. They had laid down their own necks for his life. And he adds: “Unto whom not only I give thanks, but also all the assemblies of the Gentiles.” This is uncommonly fine. They had purchased to themselves a good degree. They had worked their way into the confidence and esteem of the apostle and of all the assemblies. Thus it must be. We cannot quickly jump into people’s confidence and affection. We must commend ourselves by a life of practical righteousness and personal devotedness. “Commending ourselves to every man’s conscience,in the sight of God” (2 Cor. 4:2).

Again, look at the exquisite touch in verse 12: “Salute Tryphena and Tryphosa, who labour in the Lord. Salute the beloved Persis, which laboured much in the Lord.” Notice the lovely discrimination here revealed. Why does he not class all three together? The reason is plain: because only two had labored, while the third had labored much. Each one gets his and her place, according to what they were and according to what they had done.

Nor would Tryphena and Tryphosa have had any cause of envy and jealousy against Persis, because she was characterized as “beloved” while they were not; or because the word “much” was added to her labor and withheld from theirs. No; envy and jealousy are the pernicious fruit of a miserable self-occupation; they can find no place in a heart wholly devoted to Christ and His precious interests.

Look on 2 Samuel 23 and Romans 16 as specimen pages of the book of responsible, practical life, in which each one is written down according to what he is and has done. Of course, it is all by grace. Each one will delight to say that “by the grace of God I am what I am.” Also, all the children of God and members of Christ are equally “acceptedin the beloved” – all stand in one common relationship. The very feeblest member of the body of Christ is loved by God as Christ is loved. The Head and members cannot be separated. As He is so are they. The feeblest child in the family has his own place in the Father’s heart, with which no one can ever interfere (Eph. 1:6; John 17:26; 1 John 4:17).

All this is blessedly true, and nothing can ever touch it. But when we turn to the grand question of practical life and personal devotedness, there is endless variety. We see “the three,” “the first three,” and “the thirty.” It is one thing to be “accepted,”and another thing to be “acceptable”or agreeable. It is one thing to be a beloved child and another thing to be a devoted servant. There is the love of relationship and the love of complacency.

These things must not be confounded. And certainly it should be the earnest desire of every “accepted” child of God to be an “acceptable” servant of Christ. We pray it may be so more and more in this day of cold indifference and self-seeking, in which so many seem to rest satisfied with the mere fact of being in fellowship, as it is called – the form of breaking bread; and so few, comparatively, are pressing after that high standard of personal devotedness which, we may rest assured, is “agreeable” to the heart of Christ.

Please do not misunderstand what we are saying. True fellowship in the Spirit – the communion of saints – is precious beyond all expression; and, in truth and sincerity, the breaking of bread in remembrance of our adorable Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who loved us and gave Himself for us, is one of the very highest and richest privileges for those whose hearts are true to Him. All this is clearly understood and fully admitted.

But on the other hand, we must never forget the strong tendency of our poor hearts to rest in mere forms and formularies when the power is gone. It is one thing to be in nominal fellowship and go through the outward form of breaking bread, and another thing altogether to be an earnest, devoted, pronounced disciple of Christ. This latter is what we should all ardently long for; but to rest in the former is a miserable delusion, deadening the conscience, hardening the heart, and deceiving the soul.

“Bought with a price,” and not my own,
No longer to myself to live,
To be for Him, for Him alone,
Who gave me all that grace could give,
Who gave Himself – for me made sin,
My guilty worthless heart to win.
“Bought with a price,” I now would seek
A living sacrifice to be,
Conform’d to Him, pure, holy, meek,
Whom on the throne I now can see;
To walk like Him this desert place,
In truth and love and power and grace.
“Bought with a price,” to wait for Him,
Resting beneath His gracious smile,
Which brightens hope when faith grows dim,
And cheers me through the “little while,”
Whilst waiting here His face to see,
Who comes Himself to welcome me.
(From Day Dawn Praises by G.W.F.)

“The Well of Bethlehem” (2 Sam. 23)
“And David longed and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem which is by the gate!” Such was the breathing of David’s heart, a desire which met with a speedy and hearty response from three members of that devoted and heroic band which flocked around him in the cave of Adullam. “And the three mighty men broke through the host of the Philistines, and drew water out of the well of Bethlehem that was by the gate, and took it and brought it to David.” There was no command issued. No one in particular was singled out and commissioned to go. There was the simple utterance of the desire, and it was this that afforded the opportunity for genuine affection and true devotedness. Had there been a specific command given to anyone, it would merely have afforded an occasion for ready obedience, but the utterance of a desire developed that ardent attachment to David which is so lovely to behold.

Notice David’s response in this most touching scene: “Nevertheless he would not drink thereof, but poured it out unto the Lord. And he said, Be it far from me, O Lord, that I should do this: is not this the blood of the men that went in jeopardy of their lives? Therefore he would not drink of it.”

It was a sacrifice too costly for any except Jehovah Himself. Hence David would not permit the sweet odor of it to be interrupted in its ascent to the throne of God.

How little did those three mighty men imagine that their act of loving devotedness would be recorded on the eternal page of inspiration, there to be read by millions. They never thought of this. Their hearts were set on David and they counted not their lives dear so that they might gratify him or refresh his spirit. Had they acted to get a name or place for themselves, it would have robbed their act of all its charm and consigned it to its merited contempt and oblivion. But no; they loved David. This was the spring of their activity. They proved that he was more precious to their hearts than life itself. In the one absorbing object of serving David they forgot all, and the odor of their sacrifice ascended to the throne of God while the record of their deed shines on the page of inspiration and shall continue to shine as long as that page endures.

How we long for something like this in reference to the true David in this the day of His rejection. We covet a more intense and self-sacrificing devotedness as the fruit of constraining love of Christ. It is not a question of working for rewards, for a crown or a place. No; the very moment we make rewards our object, we are below the mark. In other words, service rendered with the eye on reward would be defective. But then we also believe that every jot or tittle of true service will be rewarded in the day of Christ’s glory and that each servant will get his place in the record andhis place in the kingdom according to the measure of His personal devotedness down here. This we hold to be a great practical truth. We must confess we long to see the standard of devotedness greatly raised among us and this can only be accomplished by having our hearts more consecrated to Christ and His Name. O Lord, revive Thy work!

David’s Last Words (2 Sam. 23)
There is something deeply touching and most consolatory in the last words of “The sweet Psalmist of Israel.” It is good and profitable to listen to the “last words” of any saint of God or servant of Christ. It is well to hearken to the mellow words of the white-haired and experienced, to those who have reached the final stage of life’s rough journey. We all know that a degree of romance fills us when first starting out on our course. We cherish large expectations from men and things. We fondly imagine that all is glittering gold and we foolishly hope that all the promises and pretensions of the scene around will be fully realized. But as we get on, we discover our mistake. We are cured of much youthful romance by stern reality and heat from the desert of life carries away much of the bloom of our young days. The young believer is apt to confide in everyone who makes a profession; and though this simple confidence is lovely, it is not always met with worthy response. Even in an ordinary Christian career, one meets with much that chills, withers, contracts and repulses. Hence, the weight and value of “last words,” especially when we get them not merely as the fruit of matured judgment, but as in David’s case by inspiration of the Holy Spirit. “Now these be the last words of David, David the son of Jesse said, and the man who was raised up on high, the anointed of the God of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of Israel, said, The Spirit of the Lord spake by me, and His word was in my tongue. The God of Israel said, the Rock of Israel spake to me, He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God. And he shall be as the light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth, by clear shining after rain.”

Here, David sets up the divine standard of character for one called to rule over men. “He must be just”; and upon the basis of justice is erected a superstructure of cloudless light, richest blessing and abundant fruitfulness. All this will only be realized when the Son of David, now hidden in the heavens, shall come again.

Not only does David set up the divine standard; he compares himself with it, and in this comparison we have the great moral and practical truth which hopefully will be fasten to the heart of each of us. “Although,” says David, “my house be not so with God; yet He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure: for this is all my salvation and all my desire, although He make it not to grow.”

The only way to get a right view of ourselves is by looking at Christ. This is what David does in these last words. He weighs himself in a perfect balance and declares himself light. He measures himself with a perfect rule and confesses himself entirely defective. He gazes upon the perfect model and exclaims, “I am not like that.” He looks back over the past and sees his failings and faults. He turns over page after page of life’s sad story and his eye, enlightened by beams of light from the sanctuary, sees the blots and blemishes. But, blessed be God, he can fall back upon “an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure,” and in that well-ordered covenant, finds “all his salvation and all his desire.”

There is uncommon beauty and power in the connection between the “although” and the “yet” in the above passage. The former leaves a wide margin in which to insert the words of a convicted and chastened heart, the latter opens the floodgates to let in the full tide of divine mercy and loving kindness. “Although” puts man in the dust as a failing one; “yet” introduces God in all the fullness of His pardoning love. The former is the language of a soul that has learned itself; the latter is the breathing of a heart that had learned something about God.

It is a great mercy that when we reach the close of our history and review the past – when reviewing ourselves, we have only to say, “My house is not so with God” – we shall then fully prove the eternal stability of that grace in which we have found “all our salvation and all our desire.”

David’s Three Attitudes
In the course of David’s most eventful and deeply instructive history, we find him presented by the pen of inspiration in three remarkable attitudes – lying as a penitent; sitting as a worshiper; standing as a servant. We also hear his utterances in these attitudes. The seeing and hearing are full of deep moral instruction for our souls. May the Holy Spirit enable us to profit by it; May He guide our thoughts as we look at and listen to King David as a penitent, a worshiper and a servant.

First Attitude: Lying as a Penitent – “And David fasted, and went in and lay all night upon the earth” (2 Sam. 12:16). Here we have David lying upon the earth in the attitude of a true penitent. The arrow of conviction had entered his conscience. Nathan’s pointed word, “Thou art the man,” had fallen with divine power upon his heart. He takes his place in the dust, conscience-smitten and heart-broken before God.

Such is the attitude. Let us now listen to the utterance. We find it in Psalm 51. And what an utterance; How fully in keeping with the attitude. “Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy loving-kindness; according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.” This is real work. The penitent places his sins side by side with the loving-kindness and tender mercy of God. This was the best thing for him to do. The best place for a convicted conscience is the presence of divine mercy. When a convicted sinner and divine love meet, there is a speedy settlement of the question of sin. It is the joy of God to pardon sin. He delights in mercy. Judgment is His strange work. He will cause us to feel the sinfulness of sin, to judge it, to hate it. He will never work with untempered mortar or cry peace where there is no peace. He will send the arrow home. But, blessed be His name, the arrow from His quiver is sure to be followed by the love of His heart. The wound inflicted by His arrow will be healed by the precious balm of His eternal love. Here is the order: “Thou art the man,” ”I have sinned against the Lord,” “The Lord hath put away thy sin.”

Yes, sin must be judged in the conscience. And the more thoroughly it is judged the better. We dread a superficial work of conscience – a false peace. We like to see the conscience probed to its deepest depths by the action of the Word and Spirit of God. We want to see the grand question of sin and righteousness fully discussed and finally settled in the heart.

We have to bear in mind that Satan transforms himself into an angel of light, and in this dangerous character, it is quite possible he may endeavor to lead souls into a kind of false peace and happiness not founded upon the cross as the divine provision for the sinner’s deepest need. We should deeply ponder those weighty words in the parable of the sower. “But he that received the seed into stony places, the same is he that heareth the Word and immediately with joy receiveth it: yet hath he no root in himself, but endureth for a while; for when tribulation or persecution ariseth because of the Word, by and by he is offended” (Matt. 13:20-21).

Mark the words, “Immediately, with joy receiveth it.” There is no deep work of conscience, no moral judgment of self or sin, and as a consequence, no depth of root, no power of endurance. This is solemn and most worthy of profound consideration at the present moment. We cannot ponder the connection between the expressions too carefully, “Immediately, with joy,” “No root,” “Withered away.” There is great danger of a merely intellectual reception of the plan of salvation, apart from any spiritual work in the conscience. This is frequently attended with the most joyous emotions. The natural feelings are worked upon, but the truth has not penetrated the heart. There has been no furrow made by the action of the Word. Hence, when the time of trial comes, there is no power of continuance. It is merely a surface work which cannot stand the sun’s scorching rays.

Now, one might suppose that we are attaching undue importance to conscience-work in the matter of conversion. While one must obey the Gospel as commanded by Christ Himself, still, the peace of salvation does not come to us deep in our heart and soul through a certain process, ritual, or exercise performed, but rather it is the divinely-effective sacrifice of the Son of God that purges the conscience and imparts peace to the convicted soul. It is assurance on God’s authority received by the grace of the Holy Spirit that the momentous question of sin was settled once and forever on the cross, liberating the soul and giving a peace which nothing can ever disturb.

It is a mistake for one to build a foundation on the mode of their conversion. It is, in point of fact, affording the enemy an advantage over them which he is sure to use in shaking their confidence. The foundation of a true believer’s peace is not that he was converted in such and such a manner (though most assuredly it is important to obey the Gospel as commanded by Jesus Christ) – that he felt so deeply and wept so much, or struggled so hard or prayed so fervently. All these things have their place and value. No doubt Paul never forgot the moment between Jerusalem and Damascus, but there is also no doubt that he did not built his peace on the remarkable circumstances of his conversion.

No doubt, the exercises through which these three remarkable men passed exerted a very important influence on their future course and character, both as Christians and as ministers, but the ground of their peace was not anything they had felt or passed through, but simply what Christ had done for them on the cross. Thus it must ever be; Christ is all and in all. It is not Christ and a process, but Christ alone. Let us remember this and let it be well understood that, while we press upon others the immense importance of a deep and thorough work of conscience – obeying the Gospel – we do not want anyone to build upon the work in their conscience but upon Christ’s work on the cross. It is the work accomplished for us and not the work done in us that saves. True, they are intimately connected and must not be separated, but they are thoroughly distinct and must not be confounded. We can know nothing of the work accomplished for us except by the work worked in us, but just in proportion to the depth and intensity of the work done in us, will be the clearness and fixedness of our rest in the work done for us.

But there is another point to which we are anxious to avoid misunderstanding. Some might suppose that the object of our remarks on David as a penitent is to prove that unless we have passed through precisely the same exercises, we have no just ground for believing we are regenerated. This would be a grave mistake. First, David had been a child of God long before that solemn moment on which we have been meditating.² Further, David found his relief, not in any exercises within, but in communications from without; not on the fact that the arrow had entered his heart in the words, “Thou art the man,” drawing forth the penitential cry, “I have sinned against the Lord.” No; but upon the precious truth conveyed to him in the words, “The Lord hath put away thy sin.”

Finally, let not a damper be cast upon souls because the earliest moments of their spiritual history were characterized, not by profound penitential exercises, but rather by peaceful and happy emotions. It is impossible that the “glad tidings” of salvation can do anything else but gladden the believing soul. There was great joy in Samaria when Philip preached Christ to them, and the eunuch went on his way rejoicing when he learned that Jesus had died for his sins and was baptized. How could it be otherwise? How could anyone believe in the forgiveness of sins and not be made happy by the belief? “Glad tidings of great joy” must make the poor heart glad.

“Forgiveness ‘twas a joyful sound, To us when lost and doomed to die.” Surely it was. But does this fact interfere with the value of a deep and thorough work of the Spirit of God in the conscience? No; a hungry man values bread, and although he will not think of feeding on the pangs of hunger, yet the pangs of hunger make him value the bread. So it is with the soul. It is not saved by penitential exercises, but the deeper its exercises, the more solid its grasp of Christ and the more steady and vigorous its practical Christianity.

The simple fact is this: We see in the present day a fearful amount of flippant, easy-going, airy, sol-called Christianity. Many today seem to have attained a kind of false peace and frothy happiness without any real exercise of conscience or application of the power of the cross to our nature and its ways. These are stony-ground hearers. There is no root, no depth, no power, and no permanency. Not only are such people self-deceived, but the tone and aspect of their profession are, among other influences, forming the channel along which the tide of infidelity shall soon roll its poisonous and desolating waters. Cold, powerless orthodoxy and flippant, formal, airy profession of Christianity are, just as thoroughly as dark and degrading superstition, paving the way for infidelity which today is casting its mantle over the whole civilized world.

Like many of you, we long to see a more effective testimony for Christ, a more earnest discipleship, a more thorough self-surrender and whole-hearted consecration to the name and cause of Christ. For this many of us sigh, for this many of us pray, but surely no one expects to find it amid the ranks of those who have never known much exercise of conscience or tasted the power of the cross of Christ.

We see in David a noble illustration of personal devotedness. Let us contemplate him in the second of his remarkable attitudes:

Second Attitude: Sitting As A Worshiper – In the opening of 2 Samuel 7 we find David sitting in his house of cedar and surveying the many and varied mercies with which the hand of Jehovah had surrounded him. “And it came to pass, when the king sat in his house and the Lord had given him rest round about from all his enemies, that the king said unto Nathan the prophet, See now, I dwell in an house of cedar, but the ark of God dwelleth within curtains. And Nathan said to the king, Go, do all that is in thine heart: for the Lord is with thee.”

David would build a house for God. But he was not the man, nor was it the time for that. Nathan is dispatched to correct the mistake. The service was well-meant, but that was not sufficient. It must be well-timed as well as well-meant. David had shed much blood. Also, there were enemies and evil at hand. There were also deeper lessons of grace in which David had to be instructed. God had done much for him, but all that had been done in the past was as nothing compared with what was yet to be done in the future. If a house of cedar was a great thing, how much greater was an everlasting house and kingdom. The Lord telleth thee, that “He will make thee an house.” This was reversing the matter altogether. The doings of the past were full of grace; the doings of the future would be full of glory. The hand of love had lifted David from the sheepfold to the throne of Israel. “And this was yet a small thing in Thy sight, O Lord God; but Thou hast also spoken of Thy servant’s house for a great while to come.” The past and future are both brought in brilliant array before the vision of King David and he has only to bow his head and worship.

“Then went King David in and sat before the Lord, and he said, who am I, O Lord God?” Here we have David’s second attitude. Instead of going out to build for the Lord, he went in and sat before the Lord. There is great moral beauty and power in this. To an unintelligent eye he might have seemed to be in a useless attitude, but no one can ever stand as a servant who has not sat as a worshiper. We must have to do with the Lord before we can act for the Lord. Observe a man who has truly occupied the place of a worshiper and you will see one who, when rising to his feet, will prove an effective servant.

Note that it is one thing to sit before the Lord and another to sit before our work or service or preaching or circumstances or experiences – our anything. How often are we tempted to sit down and gaze at or think about our various exploits, even though these may be ostensibly in the Lord’s work? This is sure to bring weakness. Nothing can be more miserable than self-occupation. It is right enough to feel thankful if the Lord has used us in any department of work, but let us beware of keeping self before our eyes in any shape or form – directly or indirectly. Let us not be found surveying the various things in which we are engaged, the different interests we have or the varied spheres of action in which we take part. All this tends to puff up nature, while it leaves the soul barren and impoverished.

We do not attempt to enter upon an exposition of Psalm 51 (David’s utterance as a penitent), nor of 2 Samuel 7 (his utterance as a worshiper). We merely introduce these precious Scriptures and pass on to David’s...

Third Attitude: Standing As A Servant – “Then David the king stood up upon his feet” (1 Chron. 28:2). This completes the picture. We have seen him lying on the earth with the arrow of conviction piercing his conscience; the chastening rod of God held over him. We have seen him seated in the sanctuary, surveying the actions of grace in the past; anticipating the bright beams of glory in the future. Now we see him rising into the attitude of a truehearted servant to lay himself and his resources at Jehovah’s feet. All is intensely real. The penitential cry, the aspirations of the worshiper, the words of devotedness and consecration – all is deep, fervent and genuine. “I have prepared with all my might for the house of my God.” “Moreover, because I have set my affection to the house of God.” What self-forgetting devotedness is here revealed. David was not to have the honor of building the house, but what was that to one who had found his place in the sanctuary and learned to say, “Who am I?” It was all the same to David who was to build the home. It was the house of his God and that was enough. The strength of his hand, the love of his heart and the resources of his treasury were all willingly devoted to such an object.

May the Holy Spirit apply these things to our hearts by His mighty power. Surely all devoted Christians long for more whole-hearted devotedness; a more lofty consecration of self and all we have to Christ and His cause on the earth. If so, just get nearer to Him. Seek to be more in His presence. Rise up from the attitude of a penitent, go now and sit and gaze and worship. Then when the proper occasion arises, we will be ready to occupy the position of an effective servant.

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