Biblical Essays
THE CALL OF GOD - ABRAHAM AND LOT

Genesis 12
In a day of such widely extended profession of Christianity as the present, it is especially important that Christians should be deeply impressed with the necessity of personally realizing the call of God, without which there can be no permanence or steadiness in the Christian course.

It is a comparatively easy thing to profess Christianity at a time when such profession prevails; but it is never easy to walk by faith – it is never easy to give up present things, in the hope of “good things to come.” Nothing but that mighty principle which the Apostle denominates “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Heb. 11:1), can ever enable a man to persevere in a world where all is wrong – where all is out of order; such is thorny and difficult. We must feel “persuaded” of something yet to come – something worth waiting for – something that will reward all the toil of a pilgrim’s protracted course, before we rise up out of the circumstances of nature and the world, to “run with patience the race that is set before us” (Heb. 12:1).

All this is exemplified in Abraham, and the exemplification receives additional force from the contrast exhibited in the character of Lot and others introduced in the course of the narrative.

In Acts 7, we have the following words that bear directly on the subject before us. “The God of glory appeared unto our father Abraham, when he lived in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran, and said unto him, Get thee out of thy country and from thy kindred, and come into the land that I shall show thee” (v. 12).

Here we are presented with the first dawning of that light which attracted Abraham out of the darkness of “Ur, of the Chaldees,” and which shining in on his wearisome path from time to time, gave fresh vigor to his soul as he journeyed in quest of “that city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.” In the light of His character – “The God of glory” – Abraham saw the true condition of things in Ur, and believing the report concerning future glory and inheritance, he did not hesitate, but instantly girded himself for the journey.

However, comparing the opening of Acts 7 with Genesis 12:1 one fines an important principle. From the time God appeared unto Abraham, until he finally gets to the land of Canaan, there is an event involving instruction to us. We allude to the death of Abraham’s father, as we read in Acts 7, “From thence, when his father was dead, He removed him into this land wherein ye now dwell” (v. 4). This will enable us to understand the force of the expression in Genesis 12, “The Lord had said unto Abram” etc. (v. 1). From both these passages, it would plainly appear the movement made by Terah and his family (Gen. 10:31), was the result of a revelation made by “the God of glory” to Abram, but it would not appear that Terah had received any such revelation from God. He is presented as a hindrance to Abram rather than anything else, for until he died, Abram did not come into the land of Canaan – his divinely appointed destination.

This circumstance, trivial as it may seem to a cursory reader, confirms the statement already advanced in the strongest manner, i.e., that unless the call of God – the revelation from “the God of glory” be personally realized, there can be no permanence or steadiness in the Christian course. Had Terah realized that call, he would neither have been a clog to Abram in his path of faith, nor yet would he have dropped off, like a mere child of nature, before reaching the future land of promise. We get the same principle illustrated in Laban afterward in Genesis 24. Laban was fully alive to the value of the gold and silver jewels the servant of Abraham had brought with him, but he did not have the heart to value the report concerning future things that dropped from his lips. In other words, he did not receive a revelation from “the God of glory,” and as a consequence, he remained a thorough man of the world.

In the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, we are taught the same truth. There were other people with him when he was struck to the ground by the luster of the glory of the Lord Jesus; these people “saw indeed the light” – they witnessed many of the external circumstances that had arrested the furious zealot; but as he himself states, “they heard not the voice of Him that spake to me” (Acts 22:9). Here is the grand point. The voice must speak “to me” – “the God of glory” must appear “to me,” before I can take the place of a pilgrim and stranger in the world, and perseveringly, “run the race that is set before me.” It is not national faith, nor family faith, but personal faith that will constitute us real witnesses for God in the world.

But when Abram was released from the clog he had experienced in the person of his father, he was able to enter on the path of faith with vigor and decision – a path “flesh and blood” can never tread – a thorny path beset with difficulties from first to last, in which God alone can sustain the soul. “And Abram passed through the land unto the place of Sichem, unto the plain of Moreh. And the Canaanite was then in the land. And the Lord appeared unto Abram and said, ‘Unto thy seed will I give this land: and there builded he an altar unto the Lord who appeared unto him’” (Gen. 12:6-7).

Here, in the face of “the Canaanite,” Abram takes his stand as a worshiper. The altar marks him as one who, having been delivered from the idols of Ur of the Chaldees, had been taught to bow before the altar of the one true God, “who made heaven and earth.” In the following verse, we get the second grand feature in the character of the man of faith, i.e., “the tent,” denoting strangership in the world. “By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise” (Heb. 11:9).

Proceeding further we shall have occasion to notice more fully these two important points in the life of Abraham. Therefore, for the present, we rest satisfied with establishing the fact that the tent and altar clearly present him to us as a stranger and worshiper, and as such he was a man entirely separated from the course of this evil world.

Scarcely had Abram entered on his course, than he encountered one of those difficulties that have a special tendency to test the genuineness of faith regarding both its quality and object. “And there was a famine in the land.” The difficulty meets him in the very place into which the Lord had called him. When we perceive trial and sorrow, privation and difficulty awaiting us, while walking in “the strait and narrow way,” it is no easy matter to still persevere – to still pursue the onward path, especially if, as Abram, we observe within our reach an entire exemption from the particular trial under which we may be smarting. The men of this world “are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued as other men.” This feeling is still further increased as far as sight is concerned by the entire absence of everything that could act as a confirmation of our hope. Almost before Abram took a step, famine raged around him on every side, save in Egypt. If he could only find himself there, he would be able to live in ease and abundance.

However, the man of faith must pursue the path of simple obedience. God had said, “Get thee out of thy country unto a land that I will show thee.” It is true; Abram may afterward discover that obedience to this command will involve his abiding in a land where apparently nothing but starvation awaits him. But even though it should be so, God had not in any way qualified the command – No, the word was simple and definite: “Into a land that I will show thee.” This should have been as true and as binding on Abram when famine reigned around him, as when peace and abundance prevailed. Therefore, famine should not have induced him to leave the land; neither should abundance have induced him to remain. The influential words were, “I will show thee.”

But Abram leaves this land –for the moment, he succumbs to the heavy trial and bends his footsteps down to Egypt, leaving behind his tent and altar. There he obtained ease and luxury; no doubt escaping the formidable trial under which he had suffered in the land of promise; but, for the time being, he lost his worship and strangership – things which should always be dear to the heart of a pilgrim.

There is nothing in Egypt for Abram to feed on as a spiritual man; it probably afforded abundance for him as a natural man, but that was all. Egypt would give nothing to Abram unless he sacrificed his character as both a stranger and worshiper of God. It is needless to observe that it is exactly the same at this very hour. There is plenty in the world on which our old nature could luxuriously feed. There are the rich delights “of the flesh and of the mind,” and abundant means of gratifying desires of the heart, but what of all these, if the enjoyment thereof leads, as it must necessarily do, right out of the path of faith – the path of simple obedience.

Here is the question for the Christian: which shall we have, the gold and silver, the flocks and herds – the present ease and affluence of Egypt, or the tent and altar of “the land of promise”? Which shall we have: the carnal ease and delight of the world, or a peaceful holy walk with God here, and eternal blessedness and glory hereafter? We cannot have both, for, “If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.”

But, one may ask, “Why was it that Abram had to experience famine and trial in the land of promise? Why did he not find a home and plenty there?” Simply because “the Canaanite and Perizzite dwelt then in the land” (Gen. 13:7). The land had not as yet been fitted up to be the residence of God’s redeemed ones. Abram's faith might have enabled him to penetrate through the long and dreary period that would intervene before the promise could be consummated; but that very principle of faith made him “a pilgrim and a stranger.” He could wait for God’s time, and until then remain without “so much as to set his foot on” (Acts 7:5). So should it be now. The true man of faith cannot find a home in the earth because “the Canaanite” is there.

Genesis 13
This beautiful chapter shows us the man of faith recovering himself, through the faithfulness and loving-kindness of God, who never allows such to wander far or tarry long away. While deprived of his tent and his altar, the gold and silver, the flocks and herds of Egypt could not long prove a satisfying portion for Abram. Therefore, in the renewed energy of faith rising from the dust of Egypt, he once more retraces his steps to the land of promise. What a happy recovery – certain evidence of a fixed and honest purpose to serve the Lord. “The ship may be tossed by the waves and the winds, but the magnet still points to the north.”

But some expressions in the opening of this chapter confirm a thought already expressed, i.e., that Abram gained nothing, “as before God,” by his visit to Egypt. Thus, for example, “Abram went on his journeys . . . unto the place where his tent had been at the beginning, unto the place of the altar which he had made there at the first” (vv. 3-4). The words “beginning,” and “at the first,” prove that Abram had made no progress while in Egypt, but that, while there, all his time was, as it were, lost. No doubt he learned a wholesome lesson, and it is well when by our failures we learn to distrust our own hearts, and dread the pernicious influence of the world. Abram learned that there could be no tent or altar in Egypt. It is only faith that can enable a man to raise an altar or erect a tent, but in Egypt all is sight and not faith. Hence, the moment Abram set his foot there he ceased to show forth the genuine fruits of faith – yea, the very principle that led him to leave the land of promise; that led him to relinquish his character as a stranger and worshiper.

Here we are forcibly reminded of a proposal made to Abraham’s seed long after this, by a king of Egypt. “And Pharaoh called for Moses and Aaron, and said: Go ye, sacrifice to your God in the land” (Ex. 8:25). Thus, it would seem to always have been the design of the enemy to get the people of God, the holy seed, to defile themselves by worshipping or sacrificing to God, in the world; i.e., to make their character, as worshipers of God, accord with that of men of the world – men holding a place in society where Christ is an outcast; thus, of course, declaring that there is no difference between the religion of the world and the religion of God – a truly fearful delusion, calculated to lead many souls out of the way of truth and holiness.

It is sad to hear, someone attempting to manifest a liberal spirit by speaking of the religion of the world in all its multiplied forms, as if it were all right; or, as if it were a matter of total indifference whether we remained in communion with error or not. Let us not be deceived. Satan is always waging war on the truth – always challenging God’s people to question and doubt what He has said and what His Word means. But God’s Word is clear. The truth revealed to us in Scripture is entrusted to our care and protection. We often go back to words spoken by Charles Spurgeon more than one hundred years ago. He knew the war for the truth is real, and worth our fighting, no matter how difficult the battle may be. He said: “The church of Christ is continually represented under the figure of an army; yet its Captain is the Prince of Peace; its object is the establishment of peace, and its soldiers are men of a peaceful disposition. The spirit of war is at the extremely opposite point to the spirit of the gospel. Yet nevertheless, the church on earth has, and until the Second Advent must be, the church militant, the church armed, the church warring, the church conquering. And how is this? It is in the very order of things that so it must be. Truth could not be truth in this world if it were not a warring thing, and we should at once suspect that it were not true if error were friends with it. The spotless purity of truth must always be at war with the blackness of heresy and lies.”

God’s principle of separation is as strong and binding today as it was in the days of Abram or Moses. “Come out from among them, and be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing,” must hold good as long as the “unclean thing” exists; nor can any outward form alter the character, or make the character of “the unclean thing” “a clean thing.”

In the above acceptation of the Word, Moses was not liberal for he refused to countenance the religion of the world. “It is not meet so to do.” Memorable words. Would that there were more among us who, when invited to countenance the religion of the world, would reply, “It is not meet so to do.” Abram could not worship in Egypt, neither could his seed.

But Abram had more than one difficulty to encounter in his course. The path every man of faith is called to tread lies between two dangerous extremes. One is the temptation to return to the world; the other, to strive with brethren by the way. Abram had just recovered himself from the effects of the former, and we now behold him buffeting the latter.

The moment Abram emerged from Egypt he appeared in a special manner to move under a new responsibility – responsibility to his brother to walk with him in harmony. While in Egypt, this responsibility stood in the shade. In an eminent degree, the institutions, laws, habits, luxury and ease of Egypt would tend to do away with such feelings. All these things would have had the effect of erecting barriers around each individual tending to prevent him from recognizing the fact that he was his “brother’s keeper.” Nor is it otherwise in this age. So long as we continue in the world – the religious world, as it is termed – we shall find ourselves relieved from the difficult task of being our “brother’s keeper.” Those who advocate continuing therein may deny this fact, but it is all in vain, for both Scripture and experience demonstrate it. Abram and Lot did not strive in Egypt, and a religious establishment at least presents this attraction – by no means a feeble one. It effectually prevents brotherly collision and, of course, where there is no collision there can be no strife – no dispute. Where collision takes place, there must be either grace to enable us to walk in unity of mind, or strife and contention. But Egypt saps the springs of grace by leading us out of a place of simple dependence on the Lord, (for dependence always genders grace and forbearance) and because she does so, she, at the same time, teaches us, or attempts at least to teach us, that we do not need grace, by leading us into a sphere in which responsibility to brethren is never realized; thus the need is not felt; weakness is mistaken for strength, folly for wisdom.

When the Christian at first starts on his course, he fondly dreams of nothing but perfection in his fellow Christians; but in this he soon finds himself mistaken, for we all have infirmities and as the apostle states, “In many things we offend all.” But, we may ask, why was there such a speedy development of infirmity on their coming up out of Egypt? Because they were now called to walk in the power of a naked principle, without any of the props or barriers of Egypt. They were called to walk by faith, and “faith worketh by love.”

Now “the Canaanite” “was then in the land.” This should have acted as a hindrance to any strife between “brethren,” for the Canaanite cannot understand anything about the infirmities of believers, and he therefore puts all their failure down to some defect in the principle professed.

But, in every strife between brethren, there must be fault somewhere. In the contention between Paul and Barnabas there was fault somewhere. Nor can we be at a loss regarding where it lay. Barnabas wished to take his relative with him, but this relative had proved to be unfit or at least unwilling to “endure hardness,” therefore it could not have been with a single eye to the Lord’s work that Barnabas desired his company. The Lord Himself, too, at once takes Paul’s side of the question by providing him with a dear son and fellow-laborer, in the person of Timothy, with whom he had “none like-minded.”
 
So it is in the case before us. We have no hesitation in asserting that Lot was the man in error here. Lot does not appear to have fully gotten rid of the spirit of the world, and where this spirit is predominating in anyone the path of faith is too strait for him to walk in, and so it was, “They could not dwell together.”

We pronounce Lot to have been in the wrong for two reasons: because of his subsequent conduct; and, the Lords dealings with Abram, “after that Lot was separated from him.”

What did Lot do? “He lifted up his eyes.” This is always our mode of acting when not under the direct power of faith. Whenever we lift up our eyes without divine direction, we are sure to go wrong. We say this without divine direction, because we find the Lord afterwards directing Abram to lift up his eyes, but that was totally different from Lot’s act, which suggested human wisdom and foresight. However, human wisdom and foresight can never assist our progress as men of faith – no, quite the reverse; human wisdom will always suggest things which, if acted on, leads one away from the path of a man of faith. Therefore, in lifting up his eyes, Lot could not penetrate beyond the “things that are seen and temporal.” Such was his range of vision. The things on which his eyes rested were those with which he had been conversant while in Egypt, as we read, “He beheld all the plain of Jordan that it was well watered everywhere . . . like the land of Egypt” (v 10). Here we observe that in heart and affection Lot had really never been detached from Egypt – he had never learned the vanity and unsatisfactoriness of all her resources in the light of a better order of things – he had never contrasted her with that “city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God” – in a word, he “having put his hand to the plough,” was now beginning “to look back,” and thus proving himself “unfit for the kingdom of heaven.”

There is a striking notice of all this offered in the opening verse of this chapter, “Abram went up out of Egypt and Lot with him.” Here we get the secret of Lot’s instability. He appears to have gone up with Abram rather than with God, and what was the consequence? When he parted with Abram, he had nothing to lean on. He had been moving under Abram’s protection and guidance instead of being directly before the Lord, and, therefore, when he lost Abram he went astray.

Now the moment comes for Abram to “lift up his eyes,” at the Lord’s command, and this was such a different range of vision. While Lot could not penetrate beyond the narrow limits of the present scene, Abram surveyed the length and breadth of God’s inheritance. He soars on the strong and rapid pinion of faith, and is, as it were, lost in the unbounded beneficence of God; while Lot, the man walking by sight, is well-nigh lost in the deep gulf of Sodom’s corruption.
 
Before we enter on the next chapter, let us view the different circumstances of these two men who had started together. “Lot lifted up his eyes,” and as might be expected the prospect on which they rested suited his natural desires, “well-watered plains,” which, no matter how fair in man’s view, were nevertheless, in the sight of the Lord, filled with exceeding wickedness (cp. vv. 10 & 14). On the contrary, Abram’s eye wandered over the length and breadth of the promised inheritance – uninfluenced by all, focusing on the portion God was reserving for him and his seed, taking up his position accordingly.

Thus, we find Lot in the unhallowed region of Sodom; and Abram – the pilgrim and stranger, with his tent and altar – “in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron.”

Genesis 14
Here we have a minute account of a battle fought by “four kings with five” – what connection did this strife have between “the potsherds of the earth,” and the history of the people of God? With Abram none, in one sense, for he was outside it all. His tent marked him as a stranger to all these things – it marked him as one to whom the battle of “four kings with five” would be a trivial matter. And then his altar marked him as one whose pursuits were of another character – a heavenly character. His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth – his altar showed him to be at home in Heaven. Happy man, happy pilgrim; who, from his high elevation (the lofty watch-tower of faith) could, as a passer-by, look down on the battle fields of an evil world. It mattered not to Abram whether the laurel of victory were about to wreath the brow of the king of Sodom, or of Chedorlaomer, king of Elam; his portion was not in danger through their strife, because he was in that place “where thieves do not break through and steal.”

But, though it was the happy lot of Abram to have his being and portion in a place where wars could have no influence, yet such was not the case with his more worldly-minded brother. His position placed him in the midst of the strife, and consequently the issue of this battle could not fail to be of importance to him. If the child of God will stoop so low as to mix himself with the world, he must calculate on being made a participator in its convulsions, and woe be to that man who shall have his portion in the world in that day (now fast approaching) when all things shall be shaken by the mighty hand of God in judgment.

We here observe that what makes the history of nations and movements of mighty kings and conquerors a matter of interest to the Holy Spirit, is the connection of such things with the history of the people of God. Beyond this they possessed nothing of importance to Him. He could find no pleasure in dwelling on the abstract history of man. The busy strife and tumult of nations – the fierce contests of ungodly tyrants grasping after power – the movements of armies, could not attract the notice of the Spirit of peace; nevertheless, when, in the least degree, such things became connected with the history of a “righteous soul,” the Holy Spirit can be most minute in detailing the circumstances of a battle, as is observable in the case under consideration.
 
What then were the results of this contest to Lot? Ruin to him and his family. He was made prisoner and all his goods were taken (v. 12). He had laid up treasure for himself on earth, and the thieves had broken through; and thus, while Abram was above it all in the separating power of communion with God, Lot found himself a prisoner and beggar. He had sown to the flesh, and of the flesh he must now “reap corruption.”

But this was the moment for Abram to show himself in the powerful activities of love. As above observed, he had with calm indifference hitherto surveyed these movements of “kings and their armies,” but the same faith that had made him indifferent about the strife’s of men, made him quick to take cognizance of a brother in distress. Faith not only purifies the heart from worldly and carnal desires, but it also “works by love,” as is powerfully shown in Abram’s case, for “when Abram saw that his brother was taken captive he armed his trained servants” (v. 14).

It should be observed that it is in the hour of distress and difficulty that the relationship of brother gets the prominent place. In days of unruffled peace, Lot might be known to Abram as “his brother’s son,” but now he was in sorrow, and therefore the claims of brotherhood act powerfully and effectually. True, he had contended about a piece of land – he had turned aside from his venerable companion, taking up his abode at Sodom, but that was now of no matter to Abram. He was now in trouble, and therefore all is forgotten – that is, all except the fact that they were brethren.

We are now called to witness a deeply interesting scene. Abram himself is about to meet a temptation – a temptation repulsed by the power of God in him, but nevertheless, a temptation. The king of Sodom was about to come forth to display his treasures before the eye of Abram, and by nature his heart valued those treasures.

There is a species of misanthropy that looks like elevation above the world, but which, after all, is not it. When he told Alexander to get out of his sunshine, the cynic philosopher Diogenes was as proud and as worldly a man as Alexander himself. The only true and real way in which to be separated from and elevated above the world is by the knowledge of heavenly things, and, through the mercy of God, Abram was led into that knowledge.

But the victory obtained by Abram was not because of any power in him. As we have observed, he had a heart to value things that the enemy had to give him; and, therefore, if he triumphed, it was through the operation of a power outside him. In all this transaction, the One who had watched over His dear servant during the dark season of his sojourn in Egypt, and who, by that very sojourn, had taught him a lesson regarding the true character of the world, was now closely observing his ways and making preparations for his relief; from first to last, He was cognizant of the movements and designs of the enemy, and He therefore prepares to supply a heavenly antidote to nullify the enemy’s poison.

It is worthy of observation that between the time the king of Sodom went forth to meet Abram, and he made the proposal to him with reference to “the persons and the goods,” there is a remarkable character introduced – Melchizedek. This stranger, commissioned by God, was on his way to fortify Abram’s heart at the very moment when the enemy was on his way to attack (cp. vv. 17, 18, & 21). Why had not “the priest of the Most High God” come to meet Abram before? Because this was the moment Abram most needed the strength he had to bring. The enemy was about to display his gilded bait before the eye of the man of God, and therefore Melchizedek is at hand to display in Abram’s view the divine realities of the kingdom. He was about to feed and strengthen his soul with the “bread,” and cheer him with the “wine,” of the kingdom, in order that, “in the strength of that meat” he might mount above the influence of the world’s allurements. From all this we may learn that it is communion with the joys and glories of the kingdom that alone can cause the heart to reject the pollutions of the world.

On what are we now feeding? What constitutes our habitual food? Is it “the bread and wine” provided by the Lord, or “the goods” of Sodom? Are our ears open to the pernicious suggestions of the King of Sodom, or to the heavenly communications of the King of Salem? The Lord grant that our hearts may always choose that in which He delights.

But let us proceed. Melchizedek leads Abram’s soul into present communion with “The Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth,” and thus completes the wondrous contrast between “the King of Sodom” and “the Most High God, possessor of heaven and earth” – “the goods of Sodom” and the extensive possessions of Heaven and earth. What a blessed contrast faith always draws. It is needless to say that Abram rejects the offer of the King of Sodom. The bread and wine, and the benediction of “the priest of the Most High God,” had raised Abram to such a height that in one comprehensive glance he could take in the vast possessions of Heaven and earth, and from there look down on the despicable proposal of the King of Sodom and reject it. Melchizedek had just said “the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth,” and Abram laid hold on these words and made use of them in his reply to the adversary. He said, “I have lifted up my hand to the Lord, the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth, that I will not take from a thread even to a shoe-latchet and that I will not take anything that is thine, lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abram rich” (vv. 22-23).

Abram appears to breathe the atmosphere of the presence of Him “who hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and meted out heaven with a span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance, in whose sight the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance. Behold! he taketh up the isles as a very little thing, and Lebanon is not sufficient to burn, nor the beasts thereof sufficient for a burnt-offering. All nations before Him are as nothing, and they are counted to Him as less than nothing and vanity” (Is. 40:12, 15-18).

And surely it was only thus that Abram could triumph; and let no one who does not, in some measure, move in the same sphere, affect to despise the world – nothing can be more vain. Before we can obtain victory over present things and our own worldly desires, there must be acquaintance with the better thing – the fondly cherished hope of “good things to come.” “Ye took joyfully the spoiling of your goods, knowing in yourselves that ye have in heaven a better and an enduring substance” (Heb. 10:34). If we are really waiting for the manifestation of the glory, we shall be found standing apart from everything that will be judged in that day: and it is written, “Yet once more, I shake not the earth only but also heaven; and this word, yet once more, signifieth the removing of those things that are shaken, as of things that are made, that those things which cannot be shaken may remain” (Heb. 12:26-27).

In the last verse of our interesting chapter, we have a happy feature in the character of the true man of faith. Abram would not force others to walk according to his elevated standard. Although, in the most unreserved manner, he might be able to reject the offers of the king of Sodom, yet others might not be able to do so, and therefore he says, with regard to “Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre, let them take their portion.” Our walk should always be “according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith” (Rom. 12:3). In our own day, we have seen many people led to give up a variety of worldly things and afterwards plunge still deeper into those things; and why? Because they acted through mere excitement or human influence, and were not able to say with Abram, “I have lift up my hand unto the Lord.”

Genesis 15
In the opening verse of this chapter, we have a principle fraught with comfort and encouragement – a principle eminently calculated to call out a spirit of true devotedness to the Lord. Here we observe the Lord’s grace in acknowledging and accepting the sacrifice laid on His altar – the willing offering of the devoted heart of His servant. Our God is never slow in accepting such things, nor in rewarding them a hundredfold. Abram had just been manifesting a spirit of self-denial in refusing the attractive offers of the King of Sodom. He had refused to be enriched from such a source, and had taken “the Most High God” for his portion and reward, therefore the Lord comes forth to confirm the soul of his servant with these words, “Fear not, Abram, I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward.” “God is not unrighteous to forget the work and labour of love” (Heb. 6:10). A similar principle is presented in Genesis 13, where Abram is seen giving way to Lot in the matter of choosing the land. Abram’s anxiety in that matter was about the Lord’s honor, as maintained in the harmonious walk of “brethren” before the “Canaanite and the Perizzite.” “Let there be no strife,” he says, “between me and thee...for we be brethren.” Nor did Abram desire to suppress the strife by exacting concessions from Lot. No; provided the strife were suppressed, he was willing to concede everything – to surrender every claim – to sacrifice every advantage. “Is not the whole land before thee?” Take what you please – possess the fairest spot in the entire region round about. Here is the liberality – the unselfishness of faith. What was land to Abram, in comparison to the Lord’s glory? Nothing whatsoever – for that, he could give up anything or everything. How then does the Lord meet this self-sacrifice on the part of His servant? Just as He does in this chapter 15: by coming, in the plenitude of His goodness, to make it up to him a hundredfold. “Lift up now thine eyes...for all the land which thou seest to thee will I give it, and to thy seed after thee” (Gen. 13:14-15). How gracious of the Lord to enable His servant to make a sacrifice for Him, and then reward that sacrifice by a vast increase of blessing. Such are His ways – His always adorable ways.

We now trace in Abram the development of a feature that demonstrates in a special manner the high order of his communion with God. After all God’s revelations and promises to him, his soul still breathes after an object without which all besides was defective. True, with the eye of faith, he had surveyed the promised inheritance – the magnificent gift of divine benevolence: yet, notwithstanding all this, there was a great desideratum mighty blank. He sighed for a Son. In Abram’s estimation, only a son could render all his previous privileges complete. “And Abram said, Lord God, what wilt Thou give me, seeing I go childless, and the steward of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus. And Abram said, Behold to me thou hast given no seed: and lo, one born in my house is mine heir” (vv. 2-3).

In tracing the path of this remarkable man, we have beheld him at times displaying some noble features of character. His generosity; high elevation of mind; pilgrim-like habits – all these things denote a man of the highest order; yet we do not hesitate to say that in the passage just quoted we find him exhibiting a temper of soul more in harmony with the mind of Heaven than anything we have met hitherto. Abram desired to have his house enlivened by the cry of a child. He had long been conversant with the spirit of bondage breathed by “the steward of his house,” but the titles of lord and master, though good in their place, could not satisfy the heart of Abram, for he had been taught of God, and God always instructs His children in those things He loves and exhibits in His dealings with them. And, in the case of the prodigal in Luke 15, we observe the development of a principle connected with what we have been saying. In the midst of all his misery he says “I will arise and go unto my Father, and will say unto him, Father.” Here we have a fine feature in the character of this poor wanderer. He had such a sense of the grace of him against whom he had sinned, that he could yet say “Father,” notwithstanding his long course of rebellion and folly.
 
But let us observe with what accuracy Abram lays hold of the great principle brought out by the Spirit in Romans 8. “If children, then heirs.” Abram felt that sonship and heirship were inseparably connected, so much so, that without the former the latter could not be. This is the meaning of his question, “Lord God, what wilt thou give me, seeing I go childless, and the steward of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus?” Abram rightly judges that to have “no seed” was to have no inheritance, for the word is, not if stewards or servants, then heirs, but “if children, then heirs” (Rom. 8:17).

It is important to always bear in mind that our present privileges and future prospects stand connected with our character as “sons.” In its right place, it may be valuable to realize our responsibility to act as “faithful and wise stewards,” in the absence of our Master; still the most ample privileges – the highest enjoyments – the brightest glories belonging to us through the grace and mercy of our God, stand intimately connected with our character and place as “sons.”¹

In the vision presented in the close of our chapter, and which was granted to Abram as an answer to his question, “Lord God, whereby shall I know that I shall inherit it?” we have a further illustration of the teaching of Romans 8. Abram is taught by the vision that the inheritance was to be reached only through suffering – that previous to entering on the enjoyment of that which God was reserving for them, the heirs must pass through the furnace; and we do not doubt that were we more deeply and experimentally taught in the divine life, we would more fully apprehend the moral fitness of such training. “If children, then heirs, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ, if so be that we suffer with Him, that we may be also glorified together.” Again, we must, “through much tribulation, enter into the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22). Likewise, the Lord Jesus Himself stands as the great illustration of the principle on which we are dwelling. He occupied the place and enjoyed the favor of a Son from before all worlds (Prov. 8), yet before He could lay His hand on the inheritance He must pass through suffering. He had a baptism to be baptized with, and was straitened until it was accomplished. When He remembered that “a corn of wheat must fall into the ground and die,” or else abide alone, His soul was “troubled.” We are to “know Him in the fellowship of His sufferings,” before we can know Him in the fellowship of His glory. Hence, the palmed multitude mentioned in Revelation 7 had to pass through “great tribulation” before they reached their peaceful, heavenly home.²

But, in this remarkable vision there are two points that as they appear prominently in the whole of Israel’s after history, deserve to be particularly noticed. We allude to “the smoking furnace, and the burning lamp” (v. 17). Who would argue that Israel’s history might be summed up in these two words, “the furnace and the lamp.” Egypt was a trying furnace to the seed of Abraham. There the fire fiercely burned, but it was soon followed by “the burning lamp” of God’s own deliverance. The cry of the suffering seed had come up to the ears of Jehovah. He heard their groaning and saw their afflictions, and came down to display above their heads “the lamp” of salvation. “I am come down to deliver them,” He said to Moses. Satan might take delight in kindling the furnace and adding to its intensity, but the blessed God always delights in letting the rays of His lamp fall on the dark path of His suffering heirs. So, in the faithfulness of His love, when Jehovah had brought them into the land of Canaan, they again and again kindled a furnace, by their sins and iniquities. But, as frequently, He raised up deliverers in the persons of the judges which to them were as so many lamps of deliverance. Further, when by aggravated rebellion, they were plunged into the furnace kindled at Babylon, even there we observe the glimmerings of “the burning lamp,” and finally, in the decree of Cyrus, it shone out for their full deliverance.

The Lord was constantly reminding the children of Israel of the above truth. He says to them, “But the Lord hath taken you, and brought you forth out of the iron furnace” (Deut. 4:20; 1 Kings 8:51). Again, “Cursed be the man that obeyeth not the words of this covenant, which I commanded your fathers, in the day that I brought them forth out of the land of Egypt, from the iron furnace” (Jer. 11:3-4).

Thus we see how that Israel’s eventful history stood connected with the smoking furnace and burning lamp, seen here in vision by Abram. They are either presented to us in the furnace of affliction through their own sin, or enjoying the fruit of God’s salvation; and even at this moment when, as has already been observed, they are in the furnace, we can witness the fulfillment of God’s so often repeated promise, “And unto his son will I give on tribe, that David My servant may have a lamp [margin] always before Me in Jerusalem the city which I have chosen Me to put My name there” (emphasis added).³

Genesis 16-17
These two chapters give us an account of Abram’s effort to obtain the promised seed by harkening to the voice of his wife, also of God's mode of teaching him the unprofitableness of such an appeal to the mere energy of nature as that which his effort involved.

At the opening of Abram’s course we find his faith put to the test in the matter of the famine, but here we find him tried in quite another way, a way moreover, which involved a far higher exercise of faith and spiritual power. “His own body now dead and the deadness of Sarah’s womb,” although “he considered them not,” must have acted on his mind to a considerable extent.

Regarding the famine already alluded to, Egypt was at hand, holding out a refuge from anxiety as to present supply, so here, “an Egyptian maid” – doubtless one of those maid-servants that Abram had gotten during his sojourn in that evil place – was presented to him as a relief in the time of anxiety touching the promised seed. “Abram hearkened to the voice of Sarai.”

But why introduce the element of bondage into his house? Why did not Abram’s mind shrink from the thought of “the bondwoman and her son” as much as it had shrunk from the thought of “the steward of his house”? Perhaps the question, “Lord, what wilt Thou give me,” might be asked in connection with one as well as the other? Surely it was as much opposed to the divine economy to grant the inheritance to the seed of “a bond-woman,” as to a “servant.” In either case it would be an allowance of the claims of nature, which cannot be.

The principals involved in this act of Abram’s are fully laid open to us in the inspired commentary given in the Epistle to the Galatians. There we read, “Abram had two sons, the one by a bondmaid, the other by a free woman. But he who was of the bondwoman was born after the flesh – but he of the free woman was by promise. Which things are an allegory: for these are the two covenants; the one from the Mount Sinai, which gendereth to bondage, which is Agar. For this Agar is Mount Sinai in Arabia, and answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children. But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all” (Gal. 4:22-26).

The churches of Galatia had been led away from the simplicity and liberty of Christ and had returned to “the flesh.” They were beginning to substitute religious ceremonies for the energies of the Spirit of Christ. Hence, in the course of reasoning with them on their unhappy movement, the apostle refers to the matter recorded in our chapters, and the way in which he expounds it to them renders it unnecessary to dwell on it longer. This step of Abram’s only “gendered to bondage;” it introduced an unhealthy and unhappy element into his house which, as we shall see, he had to expel before he could reach the highest point of elevation in his course.
 
In Genesis 17, God’s remedy is presented, and it is most consolatory to observe how the Blessed One comes in order to lead His servant back to the simple yet difficult position of faith in Him – simple, because therein we have but one object with which to be occupied – difficult, because therein we have to contend against the workings of “an evil heart of unbelief,” leading us to “depart from the living God.”

“And when Abram was ninety years old and nine, the Lord appeared to Abram and said unto him, I am the almighty God, walk before Me, and be thou perfect.” Here was at once the effectual cure for all impatient anxiety. “I am Almighty” – I can quicken the dead – I can call those things that be not as though they were – I can, if needs be, raise up of stones, children unto you – no flesh shall glory in My presence. “I am Almighty, walk before Me and be thou perfect.”

One of the finest principles with which the mind can be occupied is this: our God desires that by the need of His people He may always be learned in the variety of His perfections. We have already met a striking illustration of this important principle in Genesis 14 – the matter of Abram’s conflict with the king of Sodom. There, when Abram was tempted by the offers of the enemy, he found relief in the apprehension of God’s character as “the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth.” The character of the communion into which Melchizedek led the soul of Abram was suited to the circumstances in which he stood. So it is in this 17th chapter. Communion with God as “the Almighty” was the sole remedy for impatient anxiety regarding the fulfillment of any promise.

Once the Lord has exhibited Himself in His character of “Almighty,” there can be no obstacle whatsoever to the outflow of His grace; for when on behalf of the sinner, almighty power and almighty grace combine, faith may count on a rich and abundant harvest.

The promises, therefore, with which this chapter abounds are just such as we might have expected. “I will make thee exceeding fruitful, and I will make nations of thee, and kings shall come out of thee. And I will establish my covenant between Me and thee and thy seed after thee in their generations for an everlasting covenant, to be a God unto thee and to thy seed after thee. And I will give unto thee, and to thy seed after thee the land wherein thou art a stranger, all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession; and I will be their God” (Gen. 17:6-8).

Surely these are promises that only almighty grace could utter, almighty power alone fulfill.

The above promises stand connected with “the covenant of circumcision” – which is especially important when looked at in connection with Abram’s effort to obtain the seed other than by the operations of God’s own hand. It would be profitable to dwell for a little on the doctrine of this covenant of circumcision but our design in taking up this history, is not for the purpose of handling it in a doctrinal way, but rather to draw from it some valuable principles of a decidedly practical tendency it so richly abounds; and therefore we rapidly pass over chapters 16-17, which contain a mine of precious doctrinal truth sufficient to occupy a separate treatise.⁵

Before closing our observations on this section of our essay, we would add that it is faith that enables one to listen to the promises of Almighty God, as Abraham here does, and when faith listens God will surely continue to speak. Abram here gets his name changed to Abraham, and the Lord unfolds to him the future greatness and number of his seed, while Abraham hearkens in the unquestioning silence of faith. But when the “Almighty God” goes on to say with reference to Sarai, “As for Sarai thy wife, thou shalt not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall her name be. And I will bless her, and give thee a son also of her; yea, I will bless her, and she shall be a mother of nations; kings of people shall be of her” (vv. 15-16).

He is at once overwhelmed by the pledges of such marvelous power and grace to be exercised towards him. They exceeded anything he had as yet known, and “Abraham fell on his face.” This is very instructive. With his face in the dust, Abraham was overcome by the plenitude of almighty power and grace. While dwelling on such a Scripture as this, surely we may say that faith entertains the “Almighty God” – that it gives Him His due and proper place and honor Him as He should be honored. When the Almighty displays Himself, self must be excluded, hence we find that Abram is set aside in all this – Sarai is lost sight of – “the bondwoman and her son” are, for the moment put out of view, and nothing is seen but “the Almighty God” in the sovereignty and fullness of His grace and power, and the faith that could lie prostrate in the dust, in silent adoration of such a display of the divine glories.

How different is this from the preceding chapter. There we find Abram hearkening to the suggestion of Sarai his wife, with regard to the bondwoman – here we find him hearkening to the voice of Jehovah, as Almighty, who is about to quicken the dead womb of Sarah, calling those things that be not as though they were, that no flesh might glory in His presence. There it is Abram and Sarai without God – here it is God without Abram and Sarai. In other words, there it is flesh – here it is spirit; there it is sight – here it is faith. What a wondrous contrast. Exactly similar to that displayed by the apostle to the churches of Galatia, when he sought to restore them from the sad influence of “the beggarly elements” of the flesh and the world, to the full liberty wherewith Christ had made them free.

Genesis 18-19
W class these two chapters together because, like those we have just been considering, they furnish a contrast – a marked and striking contrast between the position occupied by Abraham in Genesis 18, and that occupied by Lot in Genesis 19.

The Lord Jesus, when asked by Judas (not Iscariot), “How is it that Thou wilt manifest Thyself unto us and not unto the world?” replied, “If a man love Me, he will keep My words: and My Father will love him, and We will come unto him and make Our abode with him” (John 14:23). Again, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me” (Rev. 3:20). Abraham furnishes a happy exemplification of the Galatians, and stands intimately connected with Genesis 16-17. “The Lord appeared unto him in the plains of Mamre: and He sat in the tent door in the heat of the day” (Gen. 18:1). Here we find Abraham again in the full exhibition of his stranger character. In our minds, Mamre and the tent are associated with the day of his triumph over the king of Sodom. Abraham is still a stranger and a pilgrim “dwelling in tabernacles.” The revelation made unto him by the Almighty God had not altered the tone of his character in this respect, but had rather imparted fresh vigor and energy thereto. A simple dependence on the promise of the Almighty God was the most effectual means of maintaining him in his stranger condition.

It is highly instructive to see the honor here put on the character and condition of the stranger. Throughout the wide range of the world there was just one spot in which the Lord could accept the rites of hospitality and make Himself at home, and that was “in the tent of a pilgrim and stranger.” The Lord would not honor the sumptuous halls and princely palaces of Egypt with His presence. No. All His sympathies and affections hung around the stranger of Mamre, who was the only one who, in the midst of an evil world could be induced to take God for his portion.

What a season of enjoyment it must have been to Abraham while those heavenly strangers sat with him and partook of the offerings of his generous heart. Mark how he calls forth into action all the energies of his house to do honor to his guests. He hastens from the tent to the field and from the field to the tent again, and in his effort to make others happy seems to lose sight of himself.
 
Nor is it merely by partaking of Abraham’s hospitality that the Lord gives expression to the high estimation in which He holds him. He renews His promise to him with regard to the son – He opens up His counsels to him with reference to Sodom. He says, “Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which He hath spoken of him” (vv. 17-19).

Here Abraham is seen as “the friend of God.” “The servant knoweth not what his lord doeth,” but Abraham was made acquainted with what the Lord was about to do to Sodom, while Lot – the one who was so deeply interested in the solemn event – was left in profound ignorance about it.

How then does Abraham make use of his favored position? Does he use it to strengthen more fully and place on a firmer basis the future interests of his house? Surely the natural heart would at once have prompted him to make such a use of his present advantage in the matter of nearness to Jehovah. Does he use it in this way? No. Abraham had learned too much about the ways of God to act in a way savoring the selfishness of a heartless world. But, even had he thought of such a thing, he had no need to utter a syllable on the subject, for “the Almighty God” had amply satisfied his heart with regard to the everlasting interests of his house. Therefore, Abraham did not entertained a thought about himself or his house, but like a genuine man of faith, he takes advantage of his place in the presence of God to intercede for a brother, whose worldliness had plunged him into the midst of that place which was about to be given over to everlasting destruction. “And Abraham drew near, and said, Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the wicked?” (v. 23) “The righteous” – to whom can he allude? Can it be to the man who had so deliberately turned aside out of the path of faith to take up his abode at Sodom? Yes; he speaks of Lot⁶

We doubt not it will be admitted by everyone taught of God that the conduct of Abraham in this chapter furnishes one of the most important results of a holy and separated walk. We observe in it a man pleading with God in a most urgent strain for one who had turned his back on him, and selected Sodom as the place of his abode. How completely must Abraham’s soul have been lifted above “the things that are seen,” when he could thus forget “the strife” and the departure, worldliness and evil of Lot, and still plead for him as “a righteous soul.” If Abraham appears as “the friend of God” under other circumstances and other scenes, surely he is here seen as the child of God exhibiting most sweetly those principles that he had learned in communion with his heavenly Father.

We now leave Abraham enjoying his happy place before the Lord, while we contemplate the last sad scene in the life of one who seems to have valued the things of this life more highly than was consistent with the character of “a stranger and pilgrim” or “a righteous soul.” From the time that the separation took place between Abraham and Lot, the former seems to have proceeded “from strength to strength;” while the latter seems to have proceeded only downwards, from one stage of weakness to another, until at the close, we find him making shipwreck of everything, and merely “escaping with his life.” The loss of all his goods in the battle between the “four kings and five” does not seem to have had any effect on the mind of Lot in the way of teaching him the evil or being mixed up with the world; yea, he seems to have become more deeply involved in worldliness after that event, than he had been before. Why do we say this? Because, at the first, he merely “pitches this tent towards Sodom” (Gen. 13:12); but now we find him sitting “in the gate” (Gen. 19:1) – the place of honor. When once a man has put his hand to the plough if he begins to look back, we have been told by Him who cannot err, that “he is not fit for the kingdom of God.” Nor is it possible to count on the fearful lengths to which a man may go when once the world, in any one of its varied aspects, has taken possession of his heart, or when once he has begun to turn his back on the people of God. The terrible declension spoken of in Hebrews 10, which stops not short of “trampling under foot the Son of God,” has its beginning in the apparently simple act of “forsaking the assembling of ourselves together.” Therefore, how needful it is that we take heed to our ways and watch the avenues of our hearts and minds, lest any evil thing should get dominion over us, which, however trivial in and of itself, might lead to appalling results.

It strikes us that in the circumstance presented in the opening of Genesis 19, we have the full evidence of Lot’s fallen condition. The Lord Himself does not appear. He remains at a distance from the unholy place, and merely sends His angels to execute His commission on the devoted city of Sodom. The angels, too, exhibit all the symptoms of distance and strangership – they refuse to go into Lot’s house when invited, saying, “Nay, but we will abide in the street all night.” True, they subsequently enter into his house; but, if they do so, it is not so much to enjoy refreshment as to counteract the sad effects of Lot’s wrong circumstances. How different was the scene at Lot’s house from that which they had so lately witnessed at the tent of the stranger of Mamre. The tumult of the men of Sodom; to whom, notwithstanding all their ungodly deeds and ungodly speeches, Lot applies the title of “brethren”; the evident embarrassment of Lot at being discovered in such painful circumstances; the shocking proposal he is constrained to make in order to screen his guests from the violence of the ungodly men of Sodom; the struggle at the door, and Lot’s danger – all these things must have shocked the heavenly strangers, and stood in marked contrast with the holy peace and retirement of Abraham’s tent, together with his own calm and dignified demeanor throughout the scene. Well might those angels have been astonished to find “a righteous soul” in such a place, when he could have enjoyed, in company with his separated brother, the peaceful and holy joys of his steady and consistent course.

But the time had now arrived for the pouring out of the cup of divine wrath on Sodom. “The men said unto Lot, Hast thou here any besides? ...bring them out of this place: for we will destroy this place, because the cry of them is waxen great before the face of the Lord; and the Lord hath sent us to destroy it” (vv. 12-13).

The critical moment which the Lord Jesus, in the Gospel, notes by the exceedingly solemn word “until,” was now at hand for the careless inhabitants of Sodom, who dreamed not of any interruption to their “eating, and drinking, buying and selling, marrying and giving in marriage.” A moment’s respite is allowed, during which Lot bears a message to his son-in-law, a testimony regarding the rapidly approaching judgment; but, what power could the testimony of one who had voluntarily come in and settled among them have on those who had lived and moved from their earliest infancy in the midst of the ungodly scene? How could Lot expect that his words would have any weight when his ways had so sadly contradicted them? He might now, with terrified aspect and earnest entreaties, urge them to leave a place that he knew was doomed to everlasting destruction, but they could not forget the calm and deliberate way in which he had at first “pitched his tent toward Sodom,” and finally taken his seat “in the gate;” hence, as might be expected, “he seemed as one that mocked unto his sons-in-law” (Gen. 19:14). And, so far as he was concerned, how could it be otherwise? His sons-in-law might be, and doubtless were, responsible before God for the rejection of the testimony; but Lot could not expect them to heed him; indeed, we find that even he himself was tardy in departing from the place; for “while he lingered” – while his heart still went after some object or another that was dear to him – “the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand’s of his two daughters; the Lord being merciful to him, and they brought him forth and set him without the city” (Gen. 19:16). From this statement, it is manifest that, had not the men “laid hold of, and brought forth” Lot, he would, no doubt, have “lingered” on “until the fire of God’s judgment” had fallen upon him, and prevented even his “escaping with his life.” But they “pulled him out of the fire,” because “the Lord had mercy upon him.”

But this escape of Lot’s only served to put fresh honor on Abraham, for we read that “when God destroyed the cities of the plain, he remembered Abraham and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow” (v. 29). Thus, as Abraham’s sword had delivered Lot in the time of the conquest of Sodom, his prayer delivered him in the time of its final overthrow, “for the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” Note that the contrast between those two men does not stop here. There is yet another scene in which they stand at a great distance from each other as to the moral condition of their souls. “Abraham gat him up early in the morning, to the place where he stood before the Lord” (v. 27). Here the man of faith, the holy pilgrim, once more raises his head amid the mighty scene of desolation. All was over with Sodom and its guilty inhabitants, “the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.” This was such a sad spectacle. The din and bustle of that once stirring city was hushed; silence reigned around; the buying and selling; the eating and drinking; the marrying and giving in marriage – all social life had been awfully broken in on. The solemn “until” had come at last; the only one in all that wicked place who, notwithstanding his failure, could be regarded as “the salt,” had been removed; the measure of Sodom’s iniquity had been filled up – the day of divine long-suffering closed, and nothing now met the eye of Abraham but misery and desolation throughout all the plain. How melancholy. And yet it was but a type of the far more terrible desolation that shall sweep across this guilty world when the Son of man makes His appearance, “when every eye shall see Him, and all the tribes of the earth shall mourn and wail because of Him.”

Thus, “Abraham stood before the Lord” completely exempt, as far as he was personally concerned, from the sad effects of the recent visitation. His stranger condition which, in the days of Chedorlaomer, had enabled him to live outside of Sodom and its circumstances, still kept him free, and was the means of his escape from Sodom’s unutterable woe and misery. When solicited by the King of Sodom, had Abraham mixed himself up with the things of Sodom, he would have been involved, as was his brother Lot, in its overthrow. He himself would have been saved, but his work would have been burnt up. But Abraham was looking for “a city that hath foundations,” and he knew at once that Sodom was not that city, and hence he would have nothing whatsoever to do with it. He would “hate even the garment spotted by the flesh” – he would “touch not the unclean thing,” and now he was permitted to realize the blessed results of his conduct, for, while Lot had to retreat in confusion and sorrow to a cave in the mountains, his wife and all his possessions being lost, Abraham takes his stand, in all that blessed calmness and dignity which always characterized him, in the presence of Jehovah, and from thence surveys the heart-rending scene.

But what of Lot? How did he end his course? “Oh, tell it not in Gath! publish it not in the streets of Askelon!” Well may we desire to throw a veil over the closing scene of the life of one who does not seem to have ever realized, as he should, the power of the call of God. He had always displayed a secret desire for the things of Egypt or those of Sodom. His heart does not seem to have been thoroughly detached from the world, and therefore his course was always unsteady. From the time he separated himself from Abraham, he went from bad to worse – from one stage of evil to another, until at last the scene closes with the shocking transaction in the cave; the sad results of which were seen in the persons of Moab and Ammon, the enemies of the people of God.

So ended the course of Lot, whose history should be a solemn warning to any Christian who feels a tendency to be carried away by the world. The history has not been put on holy record without purpose. “Whatever things were written aforetime, were written for our learning,” may we therefore learn from the above narrative, “not to lust after evil things,” for, although “the Lord knows how to deliver the godly out of temptation,” yet it is our place to keep as much out of the way of temptation as we can, and our prayer should ever be “lead us not into temptation.” “The world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever” (1 John 2:17).

Genesis 20-21
Lot has now passed off the scene – his sun has gone down amid thick clouds and a gloomy atmosphere; it now remains for us to briefly pursue the narrative of Abraham’s ways, and God’s dealings with him.

There was one point involved in Genesis 12 that we left untouched, knowing that it would come before us in this place.

When Abraham went down into Egypt, he entered into a compact with Sarah his wife to conceal part of the truth, “Say, I pray thee,” he said, “thou art my sister” (Gen. 12:13). One evil always leads to another. Abraham was moving in the wrong direction when he went down into Egypt for help, and therefore did not exhibit refinement of conscience that would have told him of the moral unsoundness of this mental reservation. “Speak every man truth with his neighbour,” being a divine principle, would always exercise an influence on one walking in communion with God; but Abraham’s desire to get out of present trial was an evidence of failure in communion, and hence “his moral sense” was not as keen or elevated as it should have been. However, although the Lord plagued Pharaoh’s house because he took Sarah into it, and although Pharaoh rebukes Abraham for his acting in the matter, yet the latter says nothing about the deliberate compact into which he had entered with his wife, to keep back part of the truth. He silently takes the rebuke and goes on his way, but the root of the evil still remained in his heart, ready to show itself at any time if circumstances should arise to draw it out.

It is marvelous to behold Abraham coming up out of Egypt; building an altar and pitching a tent; exhibiting the noble generosity of faith; vanquishing Chedorlaomer and repulsing the temptation of the King of Sodom; urging his request for a son and heir, receiving the most gracious answer; on his face before God in the sense of His almighty grace and power; entertaining the heavenly strangers and interceding for his brother Lot. In other words, it is marvelous to behold Abraham passing through such brilliant scenes over a series of years, and all the while this moral point, in which he had erred at the threshold of his course, remains unsettled in his heart. True, it did not develop itself during the period to which we have just referred, but why did it not? Because Abraham was not in circumstances to call it out, but there it was notwithstanding. The evil was not fully brought out – not confessed, not got rid of – and the proof is this: the moment he again finds himself in circumstances that could act on his weak point, the weak point is at once made manifest. The temptation through which he passed in the matter of the King of Sodom, was not by any means calculated to touch this peculiar point; nor was anything calculated to touch it that occurred to him from the time he came up out of Egypt until he went down into Gerar, for had it been touched, it would have no doubt exhibited itself.

We can never know what is in our hearts until circumstances arise to draw it out. Peter did not imagine that he could deny his Lord, but when he got into circumstances that were calculated to act on his peculiar weakness, he showed that the weakness was there.

It required the protracted period of forty years in the wilderness to teach the children of Israel “what was in their hearts” (Deut. 8:2) and it is one of the grand results of the course of discipline through which each child of God passes, to lead him into a more profound knowledge of his own weakness and nothingness. “We had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead” (2 Cor. 1:9). The more we are growing in the sense of our infirmities, the more we shall see our need of clinging more closely to Christ – drawing more largely on His grace, and entering more fully into the cleansing virtue and value of His atoning blood. At the opening of his course, the Christian never knows his own heart; indeed, he could not bear the full knowledge of it – to do so would be overwhelming. “The Lord leads us not by the way of the Philistines lest we should see war,” and so be plunged in despair. But, in order that our apprehension of His grace may keep pace with our growing self-knowledge, He graciously leads us by a circuitous route.

In Genesis 20, after the lapse of many years, we find Abraham again falling into the old error, a suppression of truth for which he has to suffer a rebuke from a mere man of the world. In this scene, the man of the world seemed to possess a more refined moral sense than the man of God. He says, “Said he not unto me, ‘She is my sister’! and she, even she herself said, ‘He is my brother’: in the integrity of my heart and innocency of my hands have I done this.” But note how God enters the scene for the purpose of vindicating His servant. He says to Abimelech, “Behold, thou art but a dead man.” Yes, with all “the integrity of his heart and innocency of his hands” – with all his fine moral sense of right and wrong, he was “but a dead man,” when it came to be a question between him and even an erring child of God. In His grace, God was looking at His dear servant from a different point of view than adopted by Abimelech. All that the latter could see in Abraham was a man guilty of a manifest piece of deception, but God saw more than that, and therefore He says to Abimelech, “Now therefore restore the man his wife; for he is a prophet, and he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live.” What dignity is here put on Abraham. God himself vindicates him before the world. Not a syllable of reproof; not a breath of disapprobation. No, “he is a prophet and he shall pray for thee and thou shalt live.” How truly consolatory it is for the weak and harassed believer to remember that His Father is always viewing him through the medium of the Lord Jesus Christ. He sees nothing on His child but the excellency and perfectness of Jesus. Thus, while a man of the world may have to rebuke a child of God, as in the case before us, God declares that He values that character which the believer has received from Him more than all the amiability, integrity, and innocency of which nature can boast.⁷

This reminds us of the way in which the Lord vindicates the Baptist before the multitude, although He had sent a message that probably deeply exercised him: “I say unto you, among those that are born of women there is not a greater prophet then John the Baptist” (Luke 7:28). Thus, whatever unfavorable aspect the child of God may wear in the world’s view, God will always show Himself the vindicator of such. “He suffered no man to do them wrong; yea, he reproved kings for their sakes, saying, Touch not mine anointed and do my prophets no harm” (1 Chron. 16:21-22).

However, as was observed regarding John the Baptist, the message sent from the Lord to His servant probably deeply exercised his spirit in secret, so is it in Abraham’s case. Abraham probably felt deeply humbled in his soul at the thought of what had occurred, and the consciousness of the fact that God would not enter into judgment with him about it would have augmented that feeling. When Abraham fell into the same error in Egypt, we do not find that Pharaoh’s reproof produced any manifest effect. He was not humbled by it to such a degree as to make a full confession of the whole thing. He takes his departure out of Egypt, but the root of evil remains in his heart, ready to shoot forth its pernicious branches again. Not so in Genesis 20; here we get at the root of the matter – Abraham opens up his whole heart – he confesses that from the very first moment of his course he had retained this thing in his heart that had twice betrayed him into an act, which, to say the least, would not bear the light. And as there is the full confession of the evil on his part, so is there the complete renunciation of it – he gets rid of it fully, root and branch. The leaven is put forth out of every corner of his heart, he hearkens to Abimelech’s reproof and profits by it; it was God’s instrument by which He brought out the matter, and delivered the soul of his servant from the power of evil.

But, in addition to the point on which we have been dwelling, there was yet another question to be settled before Abraham could reach the elevated point of his course as a man of faith. The bondwoman and her son were yet in the house. He must put these from his house as he had put the evil from his heart. The house and the heart must be cleared out. In Genesis 21, we find matters brought to a crisis with regard to the bondwoman and her son, concerning whom we have heard comparatively nothing until now. The element of bondage, not roused into action by anything of an opposite nature and tendency, had heretofore lain dormant in Abraham’s house. But in the birth of Isaac; the son of the free woman; the child of promise; we see a new element introduced. The spirit of liberty and the bondage are thus brought into contact, and the struggle must issue in the expulsion of either one or the other. They cannot move on in harmony, for “how can two walk together except they be agreed.”

In his Epistle to the Galatians, we are invited by the apostle to behold in these two children, “the two covenants,” the one gendering to bondage, the other to liberty; and further, to behold in them samples of the fleshly and spiritual seed of Abraham, the former, “born after the flesh,” the latter, “born after the Spirit.” Nor can anything be more marked than the line of demarcation between, not only the two covenants, but the two seeds. They are distinct one from the other, and can never, by any operation, be brought to coalesce. Abraham was made to painfully feel this fact. “Cast out this and her son; for the son of this bondwoman shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaac” (Gen. 21:10). Here the natural result shows itself. The two elements could not mingle. As well might the north and the south winds be expected to blow in all their strength without exciting a convulsion in the elements.

But it was painful work for Abraham to thrust forth his son. “The thing was very grievous in Abraham’s sight because of his son;” but it mattered not, he must be put out, for the son of a bondwoman could never inherit the promises made only to the spiritual seed. If Ishmael were to have been retained, it would have been an open allowance of the claims of the flesh. Abraham would have found something “as pertaining to the flesh” and would thus have had “whereof to glory.” But no – all God’s promises are made good to those who, like Isaac, are the children of promise, born after the Spirit, “not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:13). Ishmael was born “of the will of the flesh, and of the will of man,” and “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.” The flesh must therefore be set aside and kept under, no matter how “grievous” it may be to our hearts. The Christian will often find it grievous to keep down the old principle that always lusts against the new, but the Lord gives spiritual power for the struggle so that “we are more than conquerors through Him that loves us.”

But it is not our present purpose to pursue the doctrinal matter involved in this instructive history; were we to do so it would carry us far beyond the limits we have prescribed for ourselves in this little essay, the design of which is, as before observed, simply to direct attention to a few leading principles put forward in the narrative. We will therefore pass on to the next chapter – the last of the section laid out for consideration.

Genesis 22
The circumstances through which Abraham passed in chapters 20 and 21 were most important. An evil that had long been harbored in his heart had been put away; the bondwoman and her son, who had so long retained possession of his house, were cast out, and he now stands as “a vessel sanctified and meet for the master’s use, prepared unto every good work.”
 
“And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt [or try] Abraham” (emphasis added). Here Abraham is introduced into a place of real dignity and honor. When God tries an individual it is a certain evidence of His confidence in him. We never read that “God did tempt Lot” – no, the goods of Sodom furnished a sufficiently strong temptation for Lot. The enemy laid a snare for him in the well-watered plains of Sodom which he seemed but too prone to fall into. Not so with Abraham. He lived more in the presence of God, and, therefore, was less susceptible to the influence of that which had ensnared his erring brother.

Now, the test to which God submits Abraham – the furnace in which He tries him, marks a pure and genuine metal. Had Abraham's faith not been of the purest and most genuine character, he would assuredly have winced under the fiery ordeal through which we behold him passing in this beautiful chapter. When God promised Abraham a son, he believed the promise “and it was counted unto him for righteousness.” “He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief, but was strong in faith, giving glory to God.” But, having received this son; having realized the truth of the promise, was there not a danger that he would rest in the gift instead of in the Giver? Was there not a danger that in thinking on the future seed and future inheritance he would lean on Isaac, rather than on God who had promised him the seed? Surely there was; and God knew that, and therefore tries His servant in a way calculated to put him to the test regarding the object on which his soul was resting. The grand inquiry put to Abraham’s heart in this wondrous transaction, was, “are you still walking before the Almighty God, the quickener of the dead?” God desired to know whether he could apprehend in Him the One who was as able to raise up children from the ashes of his sacrificed son as from the dead womb of Sarah. In other words, God desired to prove that Abraham’s faith reached forth to resurrection, for if it stopped short of this, he never would have responded to the startling command, “Take now, thy son, thine only son Isaac whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of” (Gen. 22:2).

But Abraham “staggered not.” He responds to the call. God had asked for Isaac, and Isaac must be given, and that too without a breath of murmur. He could give up anything or everything so long as his eye rested on “the Almighty God.” And note the point of view in which Abraham puts this journey to Mount Moriah, “I and the lad will go yonder and worship.” Yes, it was an act of worship, for he was about to lay on the altar of the Quickener of the dead the one in whom all God’s promises centered. It was an act of elevated worship, for in the sight of Heaven and hell he was about to prove that no other object filled his soul but the Almighty God. What calmness – what self-possession – what pure devotion – what elevation of mind – what self-renunciation. Throughout the scene He never falters. He saddles the donkey, prepares the wood, and sets off to Mount Moriah, without giving expression to one anxious thought, although, as far as human eye could see, he was about to lose the object of his heart’s most tender affection, yea, the one on whom it appeared the future interests of his house depended.

However, Abraham most fully showed that his heart had found a nearer and dearer object than Isaac, dear as he was. He also showed that his faith was resting on another object altogether, with reference to the future interests of his seed, and that he was as simply resting on the promise of Almighty God after the birth of Isaac as before it.

Behold, then, this man of faith as he ascends the mount⁸, taking with him his “well-beloved” – what a scene of breathless interest.

How the angelic hosts must have watched this illustrious father from stage to stage of his wondrous journey, until at last they beheld his hand stretched forth for the knife to slay his son – that son for which he had so long and ardently wished, and for which he had so steadily trusted God; also, what an opportunity for Satan to ply his fiery darts. What abundant room for such suggestions as the following, viz., “What will become of the promises of God with regard to the seed and the inheritance, if you thus sacrifice your only son? Beware that you are not led astray by some false revelation; or, if it be true that God has said so and so, doth not God know that, in the day you sacrifice your son, all your hopes will be blasted? Further, think of Sarah; what will she do if she lose Isaac, after having induced you to expel from your house Ishmael?”

All these suggestions as well as many others, the enemy might bring to bear on the heart of Abraham. Nor would Abraham himself have been beyond the region of thoughts and reasoning which, at such a time, would not fail to arise within him. What then was his answer to all such dark suggestions? Resurrection! “By faith Abraham, when he was tried, offered up Isaac; and he that had received the promises offered up his only begotten son, of whom it was said, that in Isaac shall thy seed be called: Accounting that God was able to raise him up, even from the dead; from whence also he received him in a figure” (Heb. 11:17-19; emphasis added).

Resurrection is God’s mighty remedy for all the mischief and ruin introduced by Satan. Once we arrive at this point, we are done with the power of Satan, the last exercise of which is seen in death. Satan cannot touch the life that has been received in resurrection, for the last exercise of his a power is seen in the grave of Christ; beyond that he can do nothing. Hence the security of church’s place; her “life is hidden with Christ in God.” Blessed hiding place – may we rejoice in it more and more each day.

We will now draw this essay to a close. We have followed Abraham in his course, from Ur of the Chaldees up to the Mount Moriah – at the call of God, we have seen him resign family and kindred, lands and possessions, worldly ease and prosperity; and lastly, in the power of faith, at the same call of God, we have seen him ascend the solitary mount for the purpose of laying “his only begotten” on God’s altar, and thus to declare that he could give up everything and everyone but God Himself – and, being acquainted with the meaning of “the Almighty” and “Resurrection,” he cared not though he were called to look to the stones for the raising up of seed unto him.

On the other hand, we have also followed Lot from Ur of the Chaldees; but his path was far different from that of his brother. He does not seem to have realized the power of the call of God in his own soul; he moved under Abraham’s influence rather than under that of Jehovah. Hence, at every step of the journey, we find Abraham letting go of the world, while Lot was doing the reverse. He was grasping at the world in every shape and form, and he obtained that at which he was grasping, but what then? What of the end? Ah, that is the point. What of Lot’s end? Instead of being a noble spectacle unto angels, and a pattern to all future generations of the faithful – of what faith can enable a man “to do and to suffer” for God. Lot was just the reverse; he was led away by the enemy of his soul, who ensnared him by means of the things of the world; he spent his days amid the uncleanness of Sodom, and the scene closes with the sad circumstances in the cave. All he did for God or his people was to beget the enemies of both – the Ammonite and the Moabite.

How wondrous is that grace, which, speaking of the history of such an one, could say, “And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked; for that righteous man dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds” (2 Pet. 2:7-8).

Footnotes:
¹ Cp. John 1:12; Romans 8:14, 19; 1 John 3:1-2; Ephesians 1:5; 5:1; Hebrews 12:5.
² Passages of Scripture might be multiplied in proof of this point, but we merely refer to the following, viz. – Philippians 1:29; 1 Thessalonians 3:4; 2 Thessalonians 1:5; 1 Timothy 4:10; 2 Timothy 2:12; 1 Peter 5:10.
³ 1 Kings 11:36; 15:14; 2 Kings 8:19; Psalm 132:17.
⁴ Seriously consider the following Scriptures regarding the subject of “the lamp”: Exodus 27:20; 2 Samuel 22:29; Psalm 119:105; Proverbs 6:23; 13:9; Isaiah 62:1.
⁵ We observe here that the doctrine of the Epistle to Galatians is intimately connected with Genesis 16 & 17. We also get the doctrine of justification by faith fully illustrated in Genesis 15.
⁶ Although we consider Lot the principal object in Abraham’s mind while interceding before the Lord, we do not forget there is mention made of “fifty,” etc.
⁷ It has been observed that if we look through a piece of stained glass, it will cast its peculiar hue on everything at which we look; we may view the greatest variety of colors, yet we see in all the shade of the medium through which we are looking. So it is with God. The Medium through which He views His people is Christ; hence, He sees not their various shades and imperfections, for all present to His eye the perfectness of the Lord Jesus. As He is, so are we.
⁸ It strikes us that in Abraham’s journey to Mount Moriah we get a remarkable type of the mysterious scene exhibited at Calvary, when God was really providing Himself a lamb. We have no difficulty in losing sight of Herod and Pilate, the chief priests and scribes, the Pharisees and the multitude, leaving none remaining but the Father and the Son who, in company, ascend the Mount and carry out the gracious work of redemption in the unbroken solitude of that place.

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