Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 747
Delivered on Lord’s-day Morning, APRIL 28, 1867, by, the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
“And he said, Thus says the Lord, Make this valley full of ditches. For thus says the Lord, You shall not see wind, neither shall you see rain yet that valley shall be filled with water, that you may drink both you, and your cattle, and your beasts. And this is but a light thing in the sight of the Lord: He will deliver the Moabites also into your hand.”- 2 Kings 3:16-18.
MANY useful lessons might be gathered from this narrative if we had but time. Upon the very surface we are led to observe the weakness of man when at his utmost strength. Three kings, with three armies well-skilled in war, were gathered to subdue Moab, and lo, the whole of the hosts were brought to a standstill by the simple circumstance that there was a lack of water. How easily can God nonplus and checkmate all the wisdom and the strength of mankind! In circumstances of need how utterly without strength men become!
A sere leaf in the hurricane is not more helpless than an army when it finds itself in a wilderness and there are no springs of water. Now they may call their soothsayers but these cannot deliver them. The allied sovereigns may sit in solemn conclave but they cannot command the clouds. In vain your shields, O you mighty! In vain your banners, you valiant hosts! The armies must perish, perish painfully, perish without exception, and all for lack of so simple but so necessary a thing as water! Man would gladly play the god and yet a little water will lay him low.
We may also learn here how easily men in times of difficulty, which they have brought upon themselves, will lay their distress upon Providence rather than honestly see it to be the result of their own foolish actions. Hear the king of Israel cast the blame upon Jehovah: “For the Lord has called these three kings together, to deliver them into the hands of Moab.” Providence is a most convenient horse to bear the saddles of our folly. As I said in the reading, if we prosper and succeed, we proudly sacrifice to our own wisdom. But if shame and loss follow our folly, then we complain of an unpropi-tious Providence. Alas for man, that he will even rail against his God rather than acknowledge himself to be in error!
Yet we see, on the other hand, that the truly spiritual are, by their misfortunes and their necessities, driven nearer to God. I do not find Jehoshaphat, himself, enquiring for a Prophet of God until there was no water. And then he said, “Is there not here a Prophet of the Lord, that we may enquire of the Lord by him?” When tribulation drives us to the Lord, it is an unspeakable blessing and makes affliction prove to us one of our greatest mercies. It is a good wave that washes the mariner on the rock—it is a blessed trouble which blows the Christian nearer to his God. If you are led to set loose by the world through your losses and your crosses, be thankful for them, for, if you have lost silver, you have gained that which is better than gold! If, like the dove to the cleft of the rock your soul flies to God, driven homeward by stress of weather, then be thankful for the tempest for it is safer and better for you than the calm.
But we have no time to dwell on these topics. I rather call your attention to the three kings standing at the door of Elisha’s tent. They had paid him no deference before. He had not been made chaplain to the forces, but he had followed the camp as a volunteer and lived in obscurity. The poor wise man is precious in the hour of peril! God knows how to bring His servants to honor, and he who poured water on the hands of the Lord’s servant, Elijah, has three kings waiting at his door! Observe that he addressed the king of Israel very sharply, indeed, for sinners can claim but little respect from the servants of God—no more than rebels can expect to be treated with profound courtesy by loyal soldiers.
The Prophet evidently was much disturbed in his mind by the sight of the son of Ahab and Jezebel. Elijah never spoke better than when his fiery soul was thoroughly excited. But Elisha was a man of a milder mood and a gentler spirit, and therefore feeling that his blood was hot and his soul stirred, he did not venture to prophesy. He felt within himself, “I am not in the right mood. If I were to speak, I might utter my own words rather than the words of my Master. I feel so
angry at the very sight of that wicked Jehorarn, that I might perhaps say what I should be sorry for in after days.” Therefore Elisha makes a pause. “Bring me a minstrel,” says he.
There was doubtless in the camp some holy songster, some Asaph, some Reman, some sweet Psalmist of Israel. And when he laid his fingers among the harp strings and began to sing one of David’s wondrous strains, the Prophet grew more calm and composed. “Sing us one of the songs of Zion,” was doubtless his request to the minstrel. And, when the soft sweet strain had soothed the tumult of his storm-tossed passions, the Prophet rose to declare the will of Jehovah. His words were short, but full of force: “Make this valley full of ditches, for thus says the Lord, that valley shall be filled with water.”