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Commentary Index | Return to PrayerRequest.com | DownloadGreater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 340. The Prophet in Solitude
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The Prophet in Solitude
He had denounced the evil course of the nation; he had foretold disaster, and now the distressed people, reaping what they had sown, were in a mood to wreak their bitter resentment on him who had faithfully pointed out the evil of their ways and painted its certain consequences. But, secure in the lurking places along the brook, he could bide his time, and wait the occasion for the further service be might render to his misguided nation.
Cherith was part of the training for Carmel. The flight thither was as much an act of obedient faith as was the appearance before the king. However the necessity of flight was impressed on the prophet, it was impressed on him as manifestly not his own plan, but God's command; and though the journey was a weary one, and the appointed place of refuge inhospitable, the command was unhesitatingly obeyed.
Inaccessibility, security of hiding, romance of situation-these are the characteristics of the place on which the best Eastern travellers have pitched as most likely the Brook Cherith. A delightful retreat surely for one who loved meditation and prayer, and who, amid the soothing and ennobling influences of nature, could hold high converse with his God and with his own soul. Not better adapted was such a place to baffle the persecutor's murderous search than to foster meditation and the spirit of devotion. It was such a place as the thoughtful anchorite, leaving the world behind him, might have chosen; such a place as would have nursed the deep poetic soul of some whose solitary musings have enriched our literature. And there comes to us from that secure hiding this message-Do thy duty fearlessly, manfully. Deliver thy message, the message of truth which God has given thee, regardless of all that men say or think. And, if storms of rage and tempests of wrath should break out upon thee because thou hast dared to speak as God directed thee, He will shelter thee in the midst of the storm, and safely keep thee in the midst of the tempest. Thou shalt be securely hidden. The arrows of the trooper shall not reach thee in thy hiding-place. The scent of the bloodhound shall not track thee out. The hairs of your head are all numbered.
God has the whole campaign for a world carefully planned out. And each man's part in it is planned too. He knows best what needs to be done. He sees keenly the strategic points, and the emergencies. If only He could but depend on our ears being trained to know His voice, and our wills trained to simple, full obedience, how much difference it would make to Him. Simple, full, strong obedience seems to take the keenest intelligence, the strongest will, and the most thorough discipline.
Just to ask Him what to do,
All the day.
And to make you quick and true
To obey.
This surrender is for glad, obedient service. And note too that it is for training in service.1 [Note: S. D. Gordon, Quiet Talks on Service, 82.]
In times of quietness the heart unfolds itself before God. If thou wouldst grow in grace, enter into thy closet, and shut thy door upon the world,-upon that world which gets the closest to thee, and haunts thee so familiarly. Shut it, most of all, upon thy busy, unresting self; and then God shall speak to thee. It may be He will commune with thee as He has never done before, and reveal unto thee the secret of His presence.… And this truly is to know Him; not as an abstraction, but as One who careth for us, who is nigh to us, to whom we may draw nigh; and as such, to pour out our hearts before Him; to be silent in His presence; to be drawn out of self; out of earthliness, and the noise, and the dimness of self-worship, and to “hold ourselves still in Him.”1 [Note: Bishop S. Wilberforce.]
2. It meant a great deal to Elijah to be severed for a while from the work he was burning to perform; to quit the battle-field at the very beginning of the fight; to be doomed to a state which, to a fiery temperament like his, was the most insupportable of all-a state of inactivity. But Elijah had some lessons to learn. The fact that the judgment sent upon the people came on the suggestion of Elijah, and in answer to his prayer, seems to be a very significant one. It appears, indeed, to supply the key to the prophet's early ministry. We picture to ourselves a man full of indignation as he thought of the apostasy of the land, and full of a fiery zeal for the honour of the God who was being forsaken. In this state of mind he cannot wait for the development of the Divine plan of reformation, but burns for an opportunity to try methods of his own. He prays that it may not rain. Looking at the matter from the side of Elijah himself, we may say that he takes it upon him to indicate what ought to be done in the circumstances. So eager is he that he is not content to obey. He leads, he guides, he points out what requires to be done; and the remarkable thing is, that God allows him to follow out his own course, doing what is asked of Him, and suffering him to discover his errors only through his own failures.
Elijah has been born with too much independence in his heart. His native instinct is towards self-reliance. What he deems easy he thinks everybody should deem easy. The lesson he needs from life is an experience of individual feebleness. He is not humanitarian enough, because he is not near enough to the ground. He does not make allowance for human frailty, because he is too confident of himself. He must be taught self-distrust, that he may learn the needs of Man_1:2 [Note: G. Matheson, The Representative Men of the Bible, i. 316.]
Distrust of self and confidence in God are the two mystic wings of the dove; that is to say, of the soul which, having learnt to be simple, takes its flight and rests in God, the great and sovereign object of its love, of its flight, and of its repose. The Spiritual Combat, which is an excellent epitome of the science of salvation and of heavenly teaching, makes these two things, distrust of self and confidence in God, to be, as it were, the introduction to true wisdom: they are, the author tells us, the two feet on which we walk towards it, the two arms with which we embrace it, and the two eyes with which we perceive it. In proportion to the growth of one of these two in us is the increase of the other; the greater or the less the degree of our self-distrust, the greater or the less the degree of our confidence in God.1 [Note: J. P. Camus, The Spirit of St. Francis de Sales, 37.]
3. The silence of the ravine, the long days and nights of solitude, the punctual arrival of his food, would all tend to weld his faith into yet more close-knit strength; and we cannot doubt that, spending the time of his solitude in intimate communion with God, he learnt more of God's will and of God's nature there than he could have done had he remained in the tents of ungodliness.
God calls and guides the soul to inward Solitude and mystical Silence, when He says that He will speak to her alone, in the most secret and hidden part of the heart. Thou must enter into this mystical Silence, if thou wouldst hear the sweet and Divine Voice. It is not enough, in order to gain this Treasure, to forsake the World, nor to renounce thine own Desires, and all things created, if thou wean not thyself also from all Desires and Thoughts. Rest in this mystical Silence and open the Door, that so God may communicate Himself unto thee, unite Himself with thee, and transform thee into Himself.2 [Note: Michael de Molinos, The Spiritual Guide.]
Just after I settled in my New Zealand manse, it was my great privilege to entertain one of the most gifted, most experienced, and most gracious of our ministers. I felt it to be a priceless opportunity, and I sought his counsel concerning all my early ministerial difficulties. One lovely morning we were sitting together on the verandah, looking away across the golden plains to the purple and sunlit mountains, when I broached to him this very question. “Can a man be quite sure,” I asked, “that, in the hour of perplexity, he will be rightly led? Can he feel secure against a false step?” I shall never forget his reply. He sprang from his deck chair and came earnestly towards me. “I am certain of it,” he exclaimed, “if he will but give God time! Remember that as long as you live,” he added entreatingly-“Give God time!” Give God time, and when the bed of the brook is dry, Elijah shall hear the guiding voice!3 [Note: F. W. Boreham, Mountains in the Mist, 51.]
Farewell, my Loneliness!
I that had thought to curse thee, come to bless.
Deep skies and glowing stars in thee I found.
A stream ran through the sandy wilderness
And roses blossomed on the desert ground.
Beloved Solitude!
No voices over-eager, harsh or rude,
Mar the sweet music of thy gracious hours.
Among the crowd of those too near and dear
Too often have I known disgust and fear,
The isolation of those glorious powers
That in self-knowledge are, not, not ourselves, but ours.1 [Note: M. E. Coleridge.]