Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 637
Delivered on Sunday Morning, July 2, 1865, by C. H. Spurgeon, at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
“But the dove found no rest for the soles of her feet and she returned unto him into the ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole earth. Then he put forth his hand and took her and pulled her in unto him into the ark.” Genesis 8:9.
THE sending forth of the raven and of the dove have furnished ready materials for numerous allegories with which Divines in different ages have sometimes edified and more frequently amused their hearers. We cannot afford time to mention many of them, but one of the host may serve as a specimen. Certain expositors have fancied that the mission of the raven prefigured the sending forth of the Law, which was black and terrible and which came not back to man bearing any token of comfort, or sign of hope. And that afterwards the Lord sent forth the Gospel, foreshadowed by the dove, which by-and-by came back to sinful man, bearing the olive branch of peace.
Thus they illustrated the great Truth of God that there is no peace in the terms of the Law, for that raven can only croak hoarsely and fiercely. But there is peace in the ground of the Gospel, for the dove bears the olive branch in her mouth. Such far-fetched allegories as these, at the time when they were contrived and carried out, may have had their value and have been instructive to an undiscerning age. It is not, however, to be regretted that the Church of today has far less taste for such childish things.
We are quite as willing as any men to see allegories where they are really clear, for we remember the words of Paul concerning Hagar and Sarah, “which things are an allegory,” but we are not ready to follow the quaint and strange inventions of spiritualists whether ancient or modern. The clue must be evident or we had rather not enter the labyrinth. There is one adaptation of the incident before us which seems so naturally to suggest itself that I can not help using it this morning. The dove may well picture the Believer’s soul. That soul sometimes flies abroad to and fro and takes a survey of all things—but it finds no rest for the soles of its feet anywhere except in Christ Jesus. And, therefore, however long in flight, it is sure, eventually, to return to its own proper resting place.
The child of God can never be content out of his God—he who has once had Christ in him, the hope of Glory, can never be satisfied to rest or glory except in the Lord Jesus. Let us, this morning, carry out that one thought and look at it in the various lights which this picture of the dove may throw upon it.
I. First, LET US LOOK AT THE DOVE SETTING OUT UPON HER VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY. She has been perfectly safe in the ark. Other fowls have perished—cattle and creeping things have all been destroyed by the flood— but this dove, with other favored ones, has been happily secured. She has wanted for nothing—for the God who put her into the ark has taken care of her there and that righteous man who was made the means of her rescue has constantly provided her with her daily food.
She has nestled in the ark and been happy and comfortable there and yet she is about to stretch her wings and fly away from the boat of safety. Why does she act thus? Well may we ask this question of ourselves—we have been saved in Christ Jesus, many of us—saved when the floods of sin covered the rest of our kinsfolk—saved when our doubts and fears threatened eternal ruin to us! We have been provided for in Christ Jesus and housed in His salvation. He has been no wilderness to us—we have found enduring rest and seasonable provision in Him. How is it, then, that we can stretch our wings to fly, or even open our eyes to look abroad?
My Soul, is there not enough in Christ? Why will you seek elsewhere? Why leave the Fountain for the broken cisterns? Will a man leave the fertile fields for a barren rock, or forsake the running waters for pestilential pools? Remember the mischief that Dinah gained unto herself when she left her father’s house to go to the tents of Shechem. Think how the prodigal fared when he left his father’s house. Why do you not tarry at home with your Husband and liege Lord?
Why do you go abroad where all is empty and void and waste? Yet we must all confess that these hearts of ours are apt to bear us away from Christ and these minds of ours are prone to forget Him and to look abroad after some other love.
But why did the dove fly away? I answer first—a very simple answer to give, you will say—because she had wings. A creature with wings feels within itself a natural instinct to fly and, having been in the ark so long where she had little space for flight, I daresay her liberty at first was very sweet to her. What are these pinions for—why are they covered with silver and the feathers there with yellow gold, if I may not clip through yonder cloud and cleave these earth-mists and see what there is to be seen?