1. As. Jehovah,, had just been announcing His” purposes of world-wide mercy--salvation “to the ends of the earth”--we may take these words, in the first instance, as the plaint of literal Israel: “The Lord has chosen the
Gentile, and in doing so, He has forgotten me. The wild olive has been grafted in; will not the natural olive be rejected?”
2. Or it may be taken as the wail of the Church universal, prompted in times of rebuke and blasphemy, defection and apostasy, cruelty and persecution, when blood is flowing and martyr-fires are lighted; or worse, when faith is weak, and love is waxing cold, and knees are bowing to Baal.
3. Or again, the utterance may be regarded as the exclamation of the individual soul, amid frowning providences and baffling dispensations. In all the three cases Jehovah’s reply is the same--the assurance of His inviolable, unchanging, everlasting love. This He enforces by two arguments.
I. THE MOTHER’S INSTINCTIVE FONDNESS FOR HER BABE.
II. THE GRAVER’S ART (Isa_49:16). (J. R. Macduff, D. D.)
Maternal love and tenderness
Maternal love and tenderness is the strongest and most enduring of instincts. It holds potent sway even in the brute creation, and among the lower tribes of animated being. We see it exemplified in the timid bird hovering with wailing cry over the threatened or despoiled nest, and, despite its feebleness and weakness, ready to give battle to the invader. We see it in the familiar scriptural emblem of the hen gathering her brood of chickens under her wings in threatening storm, or in the hour of danger. We see it in the bolder watch the mother of the eaglets keeps over her young in the eyry on cliff or mountain-side, as she disputes, with ruffled plumage, the assault of the plunderer. We see it in the proverbial fierceness of the “bear robbed of her whelps,” or in the maddened roar of the lioness bereaved of her cubs, as she lashes her sides with her tail, and makes mountain and forest “ring with the proclamation of her wrongs.” But it is the mother and her infant babe (the human parent) in whom this deep-seated instinct has its highest, truest illustration. (J. R. Macduff, D. D.)
Maternal affection the moat appropriate image of Divine benevolence
I. MARK SOME STRIKING POINTS OF RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN THE COMPASSION OF A MOTHER AND THE COMPASSION OF GOD.
1. The first distinctive feature in the affection of a mother is, that it is coeval with the maternal character. It springs at once into existence, vigorous and perfect, and becomes henceforth a permanent and essential part of her constitution. Other affections are produced, and nourished by degrees. Love to parents, gratitude to benefactors, sympathy with the afflicted, and benevolence to our kind, are all, in a very considerable degree, the offspring of instruction and of association. But of maternal tenderness, it may be truly said that it is an instantaneous creation; the stamp of heaven, impressed upon a mother’s heart, and acting in all its vigour the moment she hears the cry of helplessness. Just, but fair, representations of that love of God, which is far above all similitude, as it passes all understanding! In implanting this affection in a mother’s bosom, He has furnished the best and most winning image of His own benignity; and by interweaving it in her constitution, He intends to show that His own love is not a feeling, adventitious or fluctuating; but an unchangeable attribute of His being--that predominating principle, of which His other attributes are nothing more than varied ramifications. A mother, however, is frail and fallible. She may forget even her sucking child. But God cannot forget to love.
2. The next quality distinctive in the love of a mother is that of all affections with which we are acquainted it is the purest in its source, and the most disinterested in its exercise. No created being can, in any way, be profitable unto God, for He is independent and unchangeable, both in nature and in happiness. All the life which He communicates; all the means of enjoyment which He spreads through creation; every faculty and every affection that ennobles and blesses the rational soul in its highest advances to perfection, springs from the exhaustless source of unmixed and unbounded benevolence.
3. The last quality I shall remark as peculiarly striking in the love of a mother is, that its exertions and sacrifices are not only disinterested, but, beyond every other example, patient and persevering. And as the love of a mother is not overcome by provocation, neither is it chilled by absence. Such is the almost unconquerable patience of a mother’s love. Still it may be conquered; and she may cease to have compassion. But God cannot forget His children- How beautifully do the temper and conduct of Jesus display the riches and the perseverance of Divine love! It is said of Him by an evangelist, “that having loved His own, He loved them to the end”: and the remark is verified by His whole life.
II. DRAW FROM THE SUBJECT SOME PRACTICAL CONCLUSIONS. It is impossible not to advert to the design and uses of this wonderful affection, as indicating, in the most striking manner, the unbounded wisdom and benignity of Providence. If we had but this one evidence, it would be sufficient to convince a reflecting mind that a paternal care is exercised in the government of the world, and that the tender mercies of God are over all His works. Take away the strong instinctive feelings of a mother, and what becomes of the living creation? But whilst man, in common with other animals, owes to this instinctive feeling, the preservation, growth, and vigour of his body, he owes to it, what is still more important, the commencement of those moral affections which constitute, in their progressive development, the strength and the glory of his moral and social life. It is in the bosom of a mother that these affections are generated. Accustomed to look to that bosom for nourishment, protection, and pleasure, it raises thence its infant smiles; it catches answering smiles of complacency and joy; its heart begins to dilate with instinctive gladness; its sensations of delight are gradually modified into those of fondness and gratitude; and as it continues to mark the love of a mother, it learns from her the art of loving. Reflections--
1. As we owe everything to a mother, we should be as unwearied in paying the debt, as she was in the acts of tenderness by which it is contracted.
2. Let us learn to form just conceptions of the Divine nature, and of the great ends of the Divine government. (J. Lindsay, D. D.)
Better than a mother
Our subject is the superiority of an “utter” over an almost” impossibility.
I. ALMOST AN IMPOSSIBILITY. If it is not an impossibility for a woman to forget her sucking child, it is certainly next door to one, and the Lord could not have obtained any higher earthly illustration of His tenderness and love. In order to show it you will see the Lord has pressed into His service a variety of words, all serving to increase the beauty of the simile.
1. “Woman.” God who made the heart of woman as well as man, knows that there is a tenderness in her disposition exceeding that of man’s, and therefore He chooses the highest type to illustrate His sympathy.
2. It is not merely the tenderness of the woman, but the tenderness of the woman who is a “mother.” God not only employs the highest type, but the highest specimen of that type. Mother! What associations of loving tenderness are in the very name. The word touches a secret spring in the heart, and conjures back scenes of the past. It brings to view in the dim distance a sweet face that used to bend over our little cot at eventide, and impress a kiss upon our brow. It reminds of one who used to smile when we were happy, and weep when obliged to correct us. It calls to remembrance one who always seemed interested in our little tales of adventure, and never laughed at our little sorrows that seemed to us so large. It was her face we gazed last upon when we went away to school, and it was into her arms we first rushed when the holidays brought us home. It was thought of her that kept us in the house of business, and held us back from sin with unseen silken cords; and when those dark locks of hers became silvered with advancing age, we only thought an extra charm had crowned her brow. You forget not the love that was strong as death, and escaped from her dying lips in words you treasure to this day. Her name has still a magic power. There is one feature in a mother’s love that must be mentioned, as it constitutes the chiefest beauty of the type. Her love is not love drawn forth by prosperity or dispelled by adversity. She loves her son not because of what he has, but because of what he is.
3. There is yet one other delicate touch in the picture which gives to it the perfection of beauty. The tenderness described is not only that of a woman, or even that of a mother, but of a mother towards her “sucking child.” This crowns the description, and should drive away the last remnant of unbelief. I can imagine a mother sometimes forgetting her grownup son, who has long since attained the age of manhood, and is himself the head of a family. I can believe that the daughter, married into some other family and well provided for, is not always in the thoughts of her mother, but it is almost impossible to conceive the sucking child for a moment forgotten Its very life is dependent on the mother’s thoughtfulness, and its utter helplessness becomes its security. Yea, she could not forget it even if she desired; nature itself would become a sharp reminder, and her own pain would plead her infant’s cause. Behold, how God has strengthened His illustration by every possible means. Then comes the question, “Can she forget?” There is s moment’s pause, and the answer is heard, “She may.” Mothers may forget their sucking children, either literally, or by acting as if they did.
II. AN UTTER IMPOSSIBILITY. The true magnitude of an object can only be understood by comparison, and it is by contrast the mind grasps the reality. “God only knows the love of God.” Its height and depth, its length and breadth defy all measurement. “They may forget.” “Yet,” and it is this word that shoots aloft beyond all human sight, “will I not forget thee.”
1. His nature forbids it. “God is love.” Not “loving,” poor mortal can be that, but love itself.
2. His promises forbid it.
3. The travail of the Redeemer’s soul is alone sufficient argument, that they for whom it was endured shall be remembered.
4. His honour renders it an utter impossibility. (A. G. Brown.)
God’s love greater than a mother’s
I. A MOTHER’S LOVE FOR HER CHILD IS BUT A FRACTION DERIVED FROM GOD’S LOVE FOR MAN.
II. THE STRONGEST AFFECTION OF A MOTHER IS SUBJECT TO MUTATIONS.
1. The conduct of the mother may cool or even quench this spark within her. In some cases debauchery, intemperance, and vice have extinguished this sacred fire, and the parent has become unnatural and cruel to her offspring.
2. The conduct of the child may cool or even quench this spark within her. But the affection of the Eternal is subject to no such mutation. “Who, then, shall separate us from the love of God,” &c.
III. THE OBJECT OF THE MOTHER’S LOVE IS NOT SO NEAR TO HER AS THE OBJECT OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION.
1. The mother is not the owner of the child. His limbs, faculties, being, are not hers. But God is the absolute proprietor of man. “All souls are His.”
2. The mother is not the life of the child. Her life is distinct from that of her offspring. But God is the very life of man.
IV. THE FAILURE OF THE MOTHER’S AFFECTION TOWARDS HER OFFSPRING WOULD NOT BE SO TERRIBLE AS THE FAILURE OF GOD’S AFFECTION TOWARDS THE GOOD. If God forsakes a man, he is ruined inevitably, and for ever. (Homilist.)
A mother’s love
The following touching incident was related by the Rev. Norman Macleod, of Glasgow:--His father was preaching on the love of God, and to illustrate his subject, referred to a poor widow in Scotland, who, being distressed for rent, resolved to go, carrying her helpless babe with her, and borrow of a friend that lived ten miles from her home. The journey lay across a bleak mountain, and the day was rough and snowy. Soon after her departure, the neighbours felt it would be impossible for her to reach her destination, and feared that her very life was endangered by the snowstorm that was rapidly gaining in violence. Twelve strong men resolved to go in search; far away on the mountain they found the poor woman lying in the snow, sleeping the sleep of death. Where was the babe? In a sheltered nook in the rock, close by, warm and alive, because wrapped in the garments of which the mother had deprived herself. A mother’s love unchangeable:--As I was walking down our street the other day, I saw a woman, good and pure, refined and cultured, walking with a man whose face was red with drink, whose form and look bore marks of deepest dissipation. I stepped to her side, and said, “Woman, why are you with this man?” She little heeded me at first, as she supported his unsteady steps “Woman, why do you not hand him over to the police?” She drew herself up, and with a righteously indignant anger, mixed with pathos, said, “Sir! I am his mother.” (C. S. Macfarland, Ph. D.)
