Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 352
“And his sons went and feasted in their houses, every one his day; and sent and called for their three sisters to eat and to drink with them. And it was so, when the days of their feasting were gone about, that Job sent and sanctified them, and rose up early in the morning, and offered burnt offerings according to the number of them all: for Job said, It may be that my sons have sinned and cursed God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually. Job 1:4,5.
JOB was an exceedingly happy man before his great trial. He was as much blessed in the fruit of his body as in his basket, and in his store. Our text gives us a very pleasing picture of Job’s family. He was a happy man to have had so many children all comfortably settled in life; for you will perceive that they all had houses; they had left his roof; they had all established themselves, and had so prospered in the world that there was not one of them who had not enough of the world’s goods to entertain all the rest. So it seemed as if Job’s prosperity in his business had attended his children in the different places where they had settled. To add to his comfort they were an undivided family—not like Abraham’s household, where there was an Ishmael who mocked Isaac; nor like Isaac’s household, where there was an Esau and a Jacob who sought to supplant him; nor like Jacob’s household, where there was a Joseph, and all the rest of his brothers were envious and jealous of him; nor like David’s household, where there was perpetual strife and bickering between the one and the other. Job’s descendants were a large tribe; but they were all united and knit together in bonds of perfect happiness; and moreover they seem to have had a great desire to preserve their unity as a family. Perhaps Job and his family were the only ones who feared God in the neighborhood; they wished therefore to keep themselves together as a little flock of sheep in the midst of wolves, as a cluster of stars in the midst of the thick darkness; and what a brilliant constellation they were—all of them shining forth and proclaiming the Truth of God! I say it was their desire not only to enjoy pleasantness and peace, but to maintain it; for I think that these annual meetings at the different houses were intended to knit them together so that if any little strife had arisen, as soon as they met at the next brother’s house, all might be settled, and the whole host might go on again, shoulder to shoulder, and foot to foot—as one phalanx of soldiers for God. I think Job must have been a right happy man. I do not know that he always went to their feasts; perhaps the soberness of age might have a little disqualified him for joining in their youthful enjoyments; but I am sure he commended their feasting; I am quite certain he did not condemn it. If he had condemned it, he would never have offered sacrifice to God, lest they should have sinned, but he would have told them at once it was a sinful thing, and that he could give no countenance to it. I think I see the happy group, so happy and holy that surely if David had been there, he would have said, “Behold how good and pleasant a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”
Job was a godly man and so godly that unlike Eli, he brought up his household in the fear of God, and he was not only quick to observe any known sin, but was exceedingly jealous over his children lest secretly and inadvertently in their hearts—while they were at their loaded tables—they might have said or thought anything which might be termed blaspheming God! He therefore, as soon as the feasting was over, called them all together and then as a preacher, told them of the danger to which they were exposed, and as a priest, (for every Patriarch before the Law, was a priest), he offered burnt sacrifices lest any sin should by any possibility remain upon his sons and daughters. So says the text. I pray that now we may have Divine Grace to listen to it; and may what we shall now hear abide with us during the coming week, when some of you shall meet together in your own houses! May God grant that our parents, or we, if we are parents, may be as Jobs, and when the feasting is over, may there come the sacrifice and the prayer, lest we should have sinned and blasphemed God in our hearts!
I shall divide my sermon thus. First, the text, and that is festive, so we will ring in a merry bell Secondly, that which is in the text, and that is instructive, so we will ring the sermon bell And, thirdly, that which follows the text, and that is afflictive, so we will ring the funeral bell.
I. First, then, the text itself, and that is festive—let us therefore, RING THE MERRY BELL. I think I hear distinctly three notes in its merry peal. First, the text gives a license; secondly, it suggests a caution; and thirdly, it provides a remedy.
1. First, the text gives a license. Now, you souls who would deny to your fellow men all sorts of mirth, come and listen to the merry bell of this text while it gives a license especially to the righteous—a license that they meet together in their houses, and eat and drink and praise their God. In Cromwell’s days, the Puritans thought it an ungodly thing for men to keep Christmas. They, therefore, tried to put it down, and the common crier went through the street announcing that Christmas was henceforth no more to be kept, it being a Popish, if not a heathen ceremony! Now, you do not suppose that after the crier had made the proclamation, any living Englishman took any notice of it! At least I can scarcely imagine that any did, except to laugh at it; for it is idle thus to strain at gnats and stagger under a feather! Albeit that we do not keep the feast as Papists—nor even as a commemorative festival—yet there is a something in old associations that makes us like the day in which a man may shake off the cares of business, and disport himself with his little ones. God forbid I should be such a Puritan as to proclaim the annihilation of any day of rest which falls to the lot of the laboring man! I wish there were a half-a-dozen holidays in the year. I wish there were more opportunities for the poor to rest. Though I would not have as many saint’s days as there are in Roman Catholic countries—yet if we had but one or two more days in which the poor man’s household, and the rich man’s family might meet together—it might perhaps be better for us. However, I am quite certain that all the preaching in the world will not put Christmas down—you willmeet next Tuesday, and you will feast, and you will rejoice, and each of you, as God has given you substance, will endeavor to make your household glad!