Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 772
Delivered by, the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
“And her brother and her mother said, Let the damsel abide with us a few days, at least ten; after that she shall go.” Genesis 24:55.
You know the story of which these words form a part. Abraham was anxious to secure a wife for his son, Isaac. He sends, therefore, his well-tried servant to the land of their forefathers and takes an oath of him that he will bring a maiden from there who should be, by her birth and character, suitable to her future destiny. The venerable servant departs on his delicate and difficult errand. He took all precautions and then commended his case to the wise disposal of his own and his master’s God. Success, which was in perfect harmony with his faith and with the Divine promises, at once crowned his efforts. The maiden best adapted above all others to be the spouse of Isaac is sent to meet him. She immediately responded to his wishes and conducted him to the house of her brother.
The aged man was wise in his generation, and knew that a key of gold has the power to open the heart most tightly locked either by prejudice or pride—everything gives way before its subtle influence. He had calculated wisely and his plans are matured at once into all he had fervently desired and prayed for. No sooner had Abraham’s servant exhibited his offerings—jewels of silver and gold, with earrings and bracelets of precious metal—then he at once won the consent of Laban, Rebekah’s brother, and of her mother. For what would not Laban have agreed to do for the sake of such valuable things?
The good servant, therefore, when he went to his bed that night, might well have slept soundly, congratulating himself that he had found in his anxious mission an easy task—that he should be able to go back the next morning to his master, taking Rebekah with him—and that the whole matter would be carried through with surprising speed. Judge of his surprise when, the first thing Laban said in answer to the good man’s request, “Send me away,” was, “Oh no, we cannot afford to let you go just yet. We must have the damsel here a little while longer, ten days at least.”
I do not know what may have been Laban’s particular reason, but I suspect his motives were in keeping with his character. If you observe his subsequent conduct with regard to Jacob, you may rest assured that there was something in the background. He thought, perhaps, that there were more golden bracelets to be had—that he was parting with his sister rather too cheaply, that he must not let the priceless gems go out of his hands too soon—therefore he would keep the account open and bargain some more.
Or, if he could not get more out of the servant, he might at least get ten days more service from the maiden, for she appears to have been the keeper of the sheep of the household, and to have performed the usual menial duties attended to by the young women of the family in the East. So Laban may have thought he might as well have her for ten days longer. It was just like he—he would have as much as he ought to have, and as much more as he could get—that was his honesty. He would get all that it was possible to squeeze out of everybody—that was his generosity. We shall not, however, have anything more to do with Laban tonight than to use his desire to retain his good sister, Rebekah, as an illustration of the way in which this wicked world endeavors to meet the invitations of the Gospel—by trying to retain the awakened sinner a little longer in its grasp.
I believe there are many here who have a hope that one day or other they will be saved. They have consented, in their judgment, that it is a right thing to be converted, but not yet. The world says, “Yes, these are weighty considerations. You shall go with that Man. You shall have Christ—you shall put your trust in Him—but not yet! Stop just a little while.” Satan’s last counsel to his servants seems to have been, “Do not openly oppose the Gospel. Give way to it, but suggest delay—do not set men’s consciences in opposition to Gospel Truth, for that is a hammer, and perhaps it will break their rocky hearts to pieces—but tell them to yield to the hammer. Tell them to say, ‘Yes, yes, it is all true, quite
correct. But we must wait a little longer, at least ten days. There is plenty of time. There is no need to hurry. Let the damsel wait a little while, ten days at least.’ ”
I want to draw your attention, first of all, to the world’s pretext for this delay. I stand knocking tonight at the world’s door, and I say, “There is a young heart here I want for Christ.” The world replies, “All right, you shall have it one of these days, but there is time enough, yet.” I say of another, “Here is a man whose strength and vigor I want for the Savior.” “All right,” says the world, “do not be in such a fever about it. We are all agreed with you—we all think as you do, that religion is important—but wait awhile, put it off, take your time, tarry a little! There is no cause for all this hurry and this fuss.”