Ralph Wardlaw Lectures on Proverbs - Proverbs 25:8 - 25:13

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Ralph Wardlaw Lectures on Proverbs - Proverbs 25:8 - 25:13


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This Chapter Verse Commentaries:



LECTURE LXXVII.



Pro_25:8-13.



"Go not forth hastily to strive, lest thou know not what to do in the end thereof, when thy neighbour hath put thee to shame. Debate thy cause with thy neighbour himself, and discover not a secret to another; lest he that heareth it put thee to shame, and thine infamy turn not away. A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver. As an ear-ring of gold, and an ornament of fine gold, so is a wise reprover upon an obedient ear. As the cold of snow in the time of harvest, so is a faithful messenger to them that send him; for he refresheth the soul of his masters."



There is a natural enough connection between the first of these verses and the two that precede; in which we have the spirit of vain self-importance and self-sufficiency. "Hastiness to strive" is very often the effect of the same spirit. It is touched instantly and to the quick by the slightest surmise,-the most distant rumour-of insult or opposition. It is on fire in a moment. It takes no leisure to inquire or to deliberate. It assumes its ground with rash precipitancy, and without discrimination, either of persons or of circumstances. To the man of this spirit, it is quite enough that some one has insulted him. He instantly takes the field, before he has distinctly ascertained even the facts, far less considered the tactics it is best, or most consistent with duty, to pursue. The consequence of such haste is often what is here described:-"Lest thou know not what to do in the end thereof, when thy neighbour hath put thee to shame."



Allow me, for the sake of illustration, to suppose two or three varieties of this result:-



1. The hasty man meets his supposed adversary,-some word or act of whom has just reached him. He is all full of the fuming pride of offended self-consequence; very big; very wrathful. In this spirit he makes his charge; and finds it is a mere idle unfounded rumour that has come to his ears; that there is actually nothing in it; that nothing of the kind has ever been either said or done; that there is no ground whatever for all his excitement and transport!-How foolish he looks, when his imagined enemy, against whom he has been breathing out the vehemence of passion, all collected and cool, stands wondering at his agitation,-unable to divine what has come over him!-And how is he laughed at for having stirred himself up to all this heat and hurry,-all this violence of emotion-for nothing!



2. It turns out that in the cause between him and his neighbour, which he has so hastily taken up, he is in the wrong;-that, after all his froth and bluster, truth and justice are clearly on the other side, with all the solid and satisfactory argument; while on his there is little or nothing beyond the noisy and vehement protestations of self-sufficiency, and he is quite unable to withstand the proofs against him,-the verdict of all impartial persons being in favour of his opponent. In this case, he must either, after having his pride keenly mortified, cool down, and own himself in the wrong,-which is the best thing he can do, but far from easy to a man of his temper; or the more he is overpowered by evidence of facts and by sound argument, the more must the sense of conscious defeat, and consequent feeling of inferiority, inflame him to rage; by which he will only render himself the more ridiculous, and give cause of more lasting mortification and shame.



3. The same things are true of a controversial dispute on any subject. Generally speaking, the hastiest and most self-confident is the most likely to fail. Such confidence very often accompanies partial information and superficial and one-sided views. The petulant, consequential disputant "goes forth hastily to strive," in the full assurance that his arguments are such as cannot be resisted, and in the full flush of anticipated triumph,-of victory before the battle. But objections meet him, of which he had never thought. Arguments are arrayed and urged on the opposite side, such as had never occurred to his own mind, and such, therefore, as he did not at all expect, and cannot refute. I can imagine few situations more full of galling mortification. He is abashed, confounded, stupified. Where he looked for certain victory, he finds humiliating defeat. Where his tongue was to be all eloquence, he is downcast and silent; where he anticipated laurels, he reaps briars and thorns. He lies at the mercy of his antagonist. That antagonist may be spiteful, and take his advantage to the uttermost of his confusion, exposing him at every point. If this is not his fate, it is one still worse. He rises in angry loudness as he sinks in sense and argument; he makes up for the weakness of his reasoning by the strength of his lungs, by vociferous and declamatory dogmatism. And this only brings him the lower; sinks him the deeper in shame;-far deeper, than if he had at once, and candidly, owned his ignorance and precipitation, and given in with a good grace.



It is an important lesson,-that a man should know and feel well his ground, before he ventures into the arena of debate. Even when his cause is right, this is necessary. In many cases, it is not the real weakness of the cause, but the haste and superficiality of the advocate, that occasions defeat. While many a time, on the one hand, it has happened, that the pert and forward objector to Christianity has been foiled, and silenced, and put to confusion, (and in such circumstances, the Christian advocate should assuredly improve his advantage, not for self-exultation, not for vain-glorious triumph, not for contemptuous derision and trampling upon the fallen, but with meekness and affectionate tenderness, for pressing home the truth, and recommending it to acceptance,) yet, on the other hand, the friends of Christianity had need to be cautious, and not too hastily and inconsiderately to throw down the gauntlet to the infidel. When one thus enters the lists without due forethought and preparation,-not sufficiently aware of infidel plausibilities and sceptical subtleties-much harm, instead of benefit, may be the result. The believer of the truth may "have the witness in himself" of its being from God. He feels its holy power. In this experience he has solid ground of peace and hope,-there being, at the same time, a clear discernment of the adaptation of the gospel to his own exigencies and to the character of God. But still, this is not enough to bring against a practised sceptic,-a skilful infidel antagonist. Various are the subtleties, which, though refuted a thousand times, the particular advocate may not find himself at the moment in a condition to meet; and a defeat or silencing from this cause, is apt to have a very injurious effect both on his own mind and on that of his adversary-throwing a painful doubt over his own faith, and confirming his adversary's unbelief and self-sufficient scorn.



Perhaps, however, the principal reference in the verse is to matters of personal injury and personal difference. This appears from next verse:-" Debate thy cause with thy neighbour himself, and discover not a secret to another."-You may compare with these verses Mat_18:15-18. You will observe, that in the two passages the principle is the same. In the latter, however, it is formally laid down as a binding law, in all its successive steps, in the social intercourse of fellow-Christians in the church. Look, then, at the duty-taking both passages together:-



1. An injury is supposed to have been done and sustained, but not to be publicly known-to be confined, in the knowledge of it, to the parties themselves. It is of consequence to mark this, because the rule is often misapprehended, and applied in cases where it has no propriety and no obligation,-to which neither Solomon nor Christ referred,-cases of open and known trespass. In the spirit of it, it ought, I think, to be applied in cases of sin known to us as having been done by another, but known, we have reason to believe, to us only, even although the sin may not be of the nature of personal offence. The chief reference, however, is to offences of the latter description. The rule is a good one in all such cases: and when they occur between brethren in a church of Christ, it is, in every step of the process prescribed by the Church's Head, of indispensable obligation.



2. When the wrong, then, has been done, the first duty is, to go to our neighbour himself, and when he is by himself;-to lay our grievance calmly and faithfully, and in the spirit of affection, before him; in the same spirit to expostulate with him; to convince him of the wrong he has done; to propose reasonable terms of reconciliation and agreement,-all under the influence of a sincere desire to gain him over by kind and becoming means.



3. It is implied in this, that the "secret," as Solomon terms it, is not to be divulged either before the interview, or if the interview prove successful, after it. Not before; for this, if known to him, will prevent his listening to you in a temper of mind that promises a successful issue; and, should he learn it subsequently, may undo all the benefit:-not after, when you have effected your object; for this too may go far to nullify the favourable result, opening the wound, giving him ground of offence in his turn, and so widening the breach and confirming the distance.



4. Observe the consequence, as stated in the tenth verse, of transgressing the salutary direction:-"Lest he that heareth it put thee to shame, and thine infamy turn not away." That is, if you do "discover the secret," this comes to the ear of the other party, and "shame" and "infamy" will follow. Even if the representation you have given of the case be a perfectly fair one, and he have no cause, in that respect, for complaint, still you have broken implied faith; you have made an uncalled-for and unfriendly disclosure of what it was understood was to go no further; you have unnecessarily and unkindly made his faults known. And if, on the contrary,-which is much more likely, you have given a representation as favourable as possible to yourselves, and proportionally unfavourable to him,-then you bring upon yourself a double ground of resentment and of odium. Not your adversary alone, but all will disapprove and reprobate; and the blot may adhere to your character all your days; the '"infamy" may never "turn away."



5. The same duty of faithful reticence is strictly applicable to all secrets committed to us by others. They should be held sacred,-the trust inviolable. On this important matter,-a matter too lightly thought of even when right principles are admitted,-allow me to offer a few directions. 1. When you have got a secret committed to you, the temptation is, in some cases, very strong to make it known. You have a feeling of superiority in knowing something of which others are ignorant; and, it may be, of self-importance in having been made its confidential depositaries. There is a vanity in being able to say-I know something which you don't. And there is a vanity too of having confidence reposed in you. You would fain have this known. But alas! for the dilemma. If it remains unknown, your vanity remains ungratified; and then, if you tell it, you prove that of the very confidence reposed in you, and of which you were so vain, you have not been worthy: so you put yourself effectually to shame. 2. There is a temptation to reveal a secret in the friendship and intimacy of the person to whom you tell it. You think this friendship requires it of you, and that there is no true friendship where there is secrecy,-that all should be unreserved between bosom friends. But, whatever friendship requires, it can never require this. The obligation of intimacy with one can never be a sufficient reason for violating an obligation under which you have come to another. No friendship, how strong soever its ties and its claims, can be an apology for betraying a third party-for breaking your word. 3. You may sometimes feel tempted to divulge a secret by the idea that making it known, in some particular quarter, may be the means of good to him whose secret it is. By telling it to such a one, you may benefit him. Even this will not do. For, first, "the heart is deceitful;" and you may, unconsciously, be influenced by mingled motives, and be covering the one under the other:-and then, secondly, your clear duty, in every such case, is, to tell him first, and let him judge for himself as to what you propose, and, if he is satisfied, so far release and set you free. 4. The fewer secrets the better. The making of a confidential communication-may of course be occasionally necessary. But where there is no necessity for it, it had better be avoided. Multiplied secrets are only multiplied temptations; and there is a vast deal too much of trifling with what ought to be sacred. Make as few of them as you can; and take as few of them as you can. 5. It is exceedingly criminal in any one to tempt another, and try to persuade him to divulge what has been confidentially committed to him;-to worm it out of him. This is infamous. It is usually done, as might be expected, by assurances of perfect secrecy. No one shall ever get it from them. They will be still as the grave. Now, for my own part, I should always be disposed to be the closer, the greater anxiety was by any one discovered to induce me to make the disclosure. My confidence in his assurances should proportionally be lessened. He who tempts another to do what is wrong, does not give very satisfactory ground for trusting that he will never do the same wrong himself. To tempt another to any sin is the next thing to our own doing it. 6. When you are about to receive a secret from another, and you have in your mind any exceptions from the restriction,-individuals to whom you imagine it will be no violation of your engagement to impart it,-these exceptions ought to be mentioned. You have no right to make them to yourself, while you are supposed by the person who imparts to you the secret to be making none, but to receive his communication as a confidential one with no reservation. This is treachery. It is evidently, in such cases, duty to intimate the particular exceptions you are desirous to make, and to get from your friend special permission respecting them. This should be done, even if the exception were the wife of your bosom. If you cannot get the permission you desire, decline receiving the communication. 7. There is one case however, I think, which must absolve from the obligation of secrecy. It is when the keeping of the secret is to work essential injury to a third party. In this case the secret resembles the taking of a rash oath, such as cannot be fulfilled without doing harm to our fellow-creatures, or violating some express command of God. No one will say that Herod did right in keeping his foolish oath, when the fulfilment of it required the murder of John the Baptist. With regard to ourselves,-when we come to see that the keeping of a secret, like the keeping of an oath, is all but sure to be injurious to us, we may with propriety seek to be released; but if we cannot prevail, I presume the case will come under the description of one of the features in the character of the good man described by the Psalmist,-who "sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not."



Verse Pro_25:11. "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver."-What is the comparison here? It has been variously understood. The word rendered "pictures" is generally conceived rather to mean net-work or lattice-work:-and the apples to be cither artificial apples represented by the skilful workman in an ornamental basket of silver filigree, or real apples, of golden hue, brought to table in such a basket. The allusion is evidently to some ornamental work of exquisite device and execution, known in those days.* What, then, is the import of the comparison? "A word" may signify a word of counsel, of instruction, of encouraging commendation, and especially (as the following verse suggests) of reproof. But it is not every such word that is meant. It must be "fitly spoken;" as the golden apples are by the artificer duly fitted, so as to appear to the best advantage through the interstices of the silver. In order to a word's being "fitly spoken," it must be well-suited to the occasion and the character; must be welltimed; well-spirited; well-expressed. When a word-especially a word of reproof, the administering of which is so difficult and delicate a task-is, in all the senses mentioned, "fitly spoken," there is blended with our sentiment of approbation the agreeable emotion of surprise and admiration.



* "The idea is that of a garment of precious stuff, on which is embroidered golden apples among picture-work of silver. Costly and precious was such a garment held to be; for besides the ornaments upon it, the material itself was of high value." So Stuart, perhaps rightly. The general sentiment remains the same.



Verse Pro_25:12. "As an earring of gold, and an ornament of fine gold, so is a wise reprover upon an obedient ear."-In tills comparison, as in the preceding, ornament and value are united. And, as the ornament selected is that of the ear, the comparison may be meant to convey the idea that an ear that listens obediently to instruction and reproof, is more valuably adorned than that which is ornamented with the most costly jewels.



When a reproof is both administered in wisdom and received in humility and in good part,-then there is a union of two equal rarities. A reproof well-administered is rare; and not less so is a reproof well taken. We may remark, however, that the rareness of the latter arises, to no small extent, out of the rareness of the former. It is because reproof is so seldom well-given, that it is so seldom well-taken.



How becoming-how truly ornamental, and worthy of admiration, the union here supposed! And then, how valuable! how really precious, in the effects resulting! There is first, the prevention, or the correction of evil. There is, secondly, the friendship, begun or confirmed, of the parties themselves; as says the Psalmist-"Let the righteous smite me, it shall be a kindness; and let him reprove me, it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break my head: for yet my prayer also shall be in their calamities," Psa_141:5. And there is, thirdly, the admiring and approving and affectionate attachment of all to both, and the beneficial influence of the good example. The jewel is both a credit to the artificer by whom it was fashioned, and an ornament to the person from whose ear it is suspended.



And if our ear, my brethren, should be open and obedient to the reproofs of fellow-creatures, O how much more to those of our divine Master and Lord! He is, indeed, a wise reprover. Grace was poured into his lips. All his instructions are true; all his promises faithful; all his precepts holy and just and good; all his admonitions gracious and kind. Obedience to him will ever be for our good; while to refuse his reproof, and to throw off and spurn away his yoke, is infatuation. For all the various situations of trial and difficulty, of temptation and perplexity, in which his people can be placed, he has "a word in season." O how fitly spoken!-how good is it! how appropriate! how precious! Where is the child of God who has not experienced this? Let His words be valued by us as jewels of fine gold!



Verse Pro_25:13. "As the cold of snow in the time of harvest, so is a faithful messenger to them that send him; for he refresheth the soul of his masters."-Snow in the time of harvest, and the cold accompanying it, would have been a very unnatural, unwonted, and unwelcome occurrence in Judea. It is to nothing of this kind that the allusion is made in the verse. It was the season of heat, often oppressively great. The comparison is taken from the use then made of snow, which had been preserved from the previous winter, in cooling their wines and other drinks, and thus rendering them deliriously refreshing. Snow was used, in a similar manner as ice is among ourselves. It was thus the means of providing refreshment from what without it could have yielded comparatively little. The meaning of the comparison is plain. The pleasure experienced by him who commissions a messenger to execute a trust, will ever be proportioned, when the message is faithfully, wisely, and successfully fulfilled, to the amount of importance attached to the commission, and the consequent degree of solicitude about the result;-and especially when any measure of despondency existed respecting it. When any business is managed, with such fidelity, sound judgment, and perseverance, as to recover and rectify what had almost been given up as hopeless,-then the heart that was dispirited and faint is revived; even as the overheated and exhausted labourer is refreshed, exhilarated, and animated for renewed toil by the snow-cooled beverage. One thing ought here to be remarked-that we are a great deal too prone to form our judgment of a messenger's merits simply by his success. But this is often far from fair, whether the commission be one of public or of private business. There may be a large amount of fidelity, and of all the qualities of a disinterested and devoted messenger, where there is little success,-nay, where there is entire failure. All may be done, and done well, that could be done; and yet, through the character of the parties with whom he has to conduct the negotiation, and through circumstances utterly beyond his control, a messenger may not succeed. In some cases, indeed, there may be a much greater degree of praiseworthiness, where there has been failure, than where all has succeeded to a wish. In not a few instances, we should deal most unjustly, and measure out our commendations and rewards in most undue proportions, were success to be our sole criterion. It ought to be,-and with a truly generous and right-hearted master it always will be,-a source of satisfaction and gratification, to contemplate the completeness of the management, and the spirit with which all has been done for his interest, even though the issue be disappointment; and justice will make this the measure of desert.



Thus will God deal with His servants. Jesus was the Father's messenger to the world. And he was "faithful to Him that appointed him." And in contemplating him, in his person and in his work, He said of him-" Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth; I have put my spirit upon him: he shall bring forth judgment to the Gentiles," Isa_42:1. The Apostles were Christ's messengers to the world. They were like their divine Master in faithful devotedness. They "refreshed the soul of that Master." He delighted in them and in their work. Through their instrumentality, he saw of the "travail of his soul, and was satisfied." And he sees of it still.



O let us all, in our several spheres, be faithful to Him-"faithful even unto death," and our faithfulness shall have a full and rich reward. How anxious should we all be, to commend ourselves to the Master, to whom we must stand or fall; to act under the influence of principles and motives which have his sanction; to do our duty well, from "faith working by love;" so that we may hear him say to us-"Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!"