Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Ammi-nadib.
The influence of the unseen
The world passeth away and the lusts thereof. The spiritual alone is permanent. Some men acquire notoriety in their day, their name passes into a proverb, and yet, singular to say, in after times, we find their names recorded, but we are at a loss to know what their deeds were which made them so famous. I have read Out a text in which a man’s name occurs about whom we know nothing. As a proverbial saying, it may be regarded as an illustration of the spontaneity and intuition of the heart. The affections under the guidance of the will becoming a chariot, in which the man is borne away.
I. Spiritual spontaneity. Spontaneity signifies that which is voluntary and unconstrained, free and instantaneous action. Without spontaneity our lives would sink to the dull, dead level of things, we should be mere links in the great chain of cause and effect. Without spontaneity we should be things, not men. This power, this pure activity is necessary to our personality. We are about to speak of the spontaneity of life--that is, spiritual life. By the spontaneity of this life, we mean that its impulses, sensibilities, and affections are not the result of a painful and protracted effort, but spring from life as its natural manifestation and development. There is naturalness in all the forms of life. We are often struck with the unnatural character of some men’s religion. It seems like something that belongs to the man, a mere accident or appendage; he can put it on as a garment, but he can divest himself of it at any moment. What naturalness there is in life, in the modest, quiet beauty of the flower, that opens itself to drink in the dew and the sunlight, and gives its perfume to every breath that passes by, and does this spontaneously, for it is the law of its life. Some few illustrations of the spontaneity of life may make our meaning more apparent. When the physical organization is perfect, when there is health as well as life, the body performs many of its functions without effort and unconsciously. The man runs without weariness, and walks without fainting. Life is like a stream sparkling in the sunshine, making its own music as it flows on, sustained and nourished by the fountain that gave it birth. It is the sick man who frequently places his finger on the pulse. It is the man out of health who has the study of his own nature forced upon him, and who is constantly seeking to reproduce and restore harmony. A man who lives near to God and has constant communion with Him, will have Divine beauty put upon him. He may, like Moses, put a veil over his face, but at any moment he can put off the veil, and go in and speak with God. There is no necessity for the soul to see that the strings of the instrument are tuned concert pitch, at any instant she can awaken music and call on all spiritual faculties like so many choristers to blend their voices in one song. A man need not, like Saul, the first king of Israel, “force himself to offer sacrifice.” There are spiritual instincts: “Myheart and my flesh cry out for God.” There is no fixedness of heart: “Oh God, my heart is fixed.” there is spontaneity: “Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Ammi-nadib.” The highest acts of the spiritual life are for the most part acts of pure spontaneity. Life is in its incipient and undeveloped forms, when we must learn to see, to speak, to walk; and so in the beginning of the spiritual life, there must be effort, and painful consciousness, till we grow up into Him who is the Head, even Christ. How may we attain this high spiritual state? We must seek the constant actings of the Spirit, and yield ourselves to the felt influence of the Holy Ghost. The Spirit is to help our infirmities,--that is, the Spirit is to lift us up, to raise, to elevate us; the Spirit gives wings to the soul, so that we maybe borne up into a spiritual region, and commune with spiritual things. We must get the unity of our whole nature. You must live in constant communion with God. Let me say, there is real happiness and great peace resulting from this spontaneity of life. There is the Sabbath of the soul; the work of the new creation being over, God still comes to man, and walks in the garden in the cool of the day. Love manifests itself to love; a living God to a living soul. In this state you will be prepared to use all things; you will be ready to receive Divine communications; you will be fitted for all seasons of fellowship. Worldly men instinctively go after the world. They come to the sanctuary, but they go where their heart goes: “Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib.” There is spontaneity in sin. It becomes natural--it awakens no astonishment--man seeks his gratification in it.
II. The intuitions of the heart. The circumstances in the chapter are these: The bridegroom is without the bride, but he goes into scenes where she has been, which seem to him filled with her presence; everything reminds him of her--his heart goes after her, he instinctively feels that sheis near, though he does not see her. We are influenced by the unseen. The true centre of our life--of all its thoughts, feelings, and energies--is the unseen. There is an attractive force, of even higher power than the force which draws bodies to the earth. Our life is in God; our holiness is the shadow of His light; our love the birth of His love. The regenerated soul goes to God to find satisfaction in Him; it goes instinctively, by the law of its new life, to have communion with God. The spiritual man finds, “or ever he is aware,” his heart has lifted him up to heaven. The unseen influences us. There are influences which do not act on the senses, but on the spirit, which do not proceed from anything that may be seen or that is handled, but from the spiritual. Men are influenced by fellowship, by example, by mind acting on mind, by the literature of the day, by the daily papers. We areinfluenced by the past, by the writings of men who have entered the unseen world. And are not our minds open to the direct influences of the Spirit of God? Cannot the Father of our spirits draw near to us, and illuminate, sanctify, and commune with our hearts? A man must be spiritual to recognize and appropriate spiritual things. What is meant by a man being spiritual? That he is born of the Spirit, that he lives in the Spirit, that his own spiritual nature has the mastery over the outward and the physical--that there is a state of real spiritual unity. With his well-balanced mind he can respond to spiritual impressions, and make use of spiritual opportunities. This ready response is indispensable; the “vision will not tarry.” A right state of heart is necessary that we may be able to take advantage of all opportunities, that we may be prepared, not only for the Sabbath, but for all times, so as to respond to all spiritual impressions and impulses. A right state of heart is necessary that we may be fitted for manifestations. We must be prepared, like the disciples in the upper room, waiting for the promise of the Father, for suddenly there may come “a sound from heaven.” We must be prepared, like mariners who have long been becalmed, but who see indications of a breeze springing up, and so make all ready to take every possible advantage of the wind which presently will sweep over the waters. We must be prepared to ascend the mount, so that at any moment we hear the Divine voice saying,--Come up, and “I will make all My goodness pass before you,” we may go up and see the glory. We must walk in the light, as He is in the light, that we may have fellowship one with another. (H. J. Bevis.)
The chariots of Ammi-nadib
It appears to me that without in the slightest degree wresting the passage, or deviating from an honest interpretation, we may understand that this is the language of the Church concerning Christ. If so, Christ’s words conclude at the end of the tenth verse, and it is the Church that speaks at the eleventh. There is not an instance in the whole Song, so far as I can remember, of the Prince Himself speaking in the first person singular; either, therefore, this would be a solitary exception, or else, following the current plan, where the same pronoun is used, the Church is speaking to Christ, and telling him of herself.
I. What is the most wanted in all religious exercises is the motion, the exercise of the soul. “Or ever I was aware, my soul made me”--or my soul became--“like the chariots of Ammi-nadib.” Soul-worship is the soul of worship, and if you take away the soul from the worship, you have killed the worship; it becomes dead and barren henceforth. There are professors in this world who are perfectly content if they have gone through themechanical part of public devotion. If they have occupied their seats, joined in the hymns and the prayers, and listened to the preaching, they go away quite content and easy. Only that prayer which comes from our heart can get to God’s heart. Oh, that we may be more and more scrupulous and watchful in these things! In the diary of Oliver Heywood, one of the ejected ministers, he often says, “Godhelped me in prayer in my chamber and in the family.” And once he writes thus--“In my chamber this morning I met with more than ordinary incomings of grace and outgoings of heart to God.” Be it always recollected that we do not pray at all, unless the soul is drawn out in pleading and beseeching the Lord.
II. Sometimes it happens that the heart is not in the best state for devotion. If religion be a matter of soul, it cannot always be attended to with equal pleasure and advantage. You can always grind a barrel-organ; it will invariably give you the same discordant noise, which people call music, but the human voice will not admit of being wound up in the same fashion, nor will it for the most part discharge the same monotonous functions. The great singer finds that his voice changes, and that he cannot always use it with the same freedom. If the voice is a delicate organ, how much more delicate is the soul! The soul is continually the subject of changes. Ah, how often it changes because of its contact with the body! If we could be disembodied, oh, how we would praise God and pray to Him! “The spirit truly is willing, but the flesh is weak.” And then, alas, our sins are a much more serious hindrance to our devotion. Perhaps we have been angry. How can we come before the Lord calmly when our spirit has been just now tossed with tempest? Probably we have been seeking the world, and going after it with all our might. How can we suddenly pull up, and put all our strength into a vigorous seeking of the kingdom of God and His righteousness in a moment? Now God’s grace can help us to overcome all these things, and can even make our souls like the chariots of Ammi-nadib. We do not want grace for such emergencies. The soul, in its different phases and states, has need of help from the sanctuary to which it repairs.
III. There are seasons when our heart is sweetly moved towards God. “Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Ammi-nadib.” Have ye not proved welcome opportunities when all your thoughts have been quickened, enlivened, and stimulated to activity in the highest degree about your highest interests? All within us was awake; there was not a slumbering faculty. Our memory told us of the goodness of the Lord in days gone by; and our hopes were regaled by the mercy which we had not tasted yet, but which was made sure to us by promise, and brought near to us by faith. Our faith was active and bright of eye. Our love especially shed a clear light over our prospects. Oh, we have had our blessed times, when our soul has been light and rapid as the chariots of Ammi-nadib! And at such times we were conscious of great elevation. The chariots of Ammi-nadib were those of a prince. And oh, we were no more mean, and low, and beggarly, and grovelling, but we saw Christ, and were made kings and princes and priests with Him. Then we could have performed martyr’s deeds. Then we were no cowards, we were afraid of no foes. We had princely thoughts then, large, liberal, generous, capacious thoughts concerning Christ and His people, His cause, and His conquests: our souls were like the chariots of Ammi-nadib. At the same time they were full of power; for, when the chariots of Ammi-nadib went forth, who could stop them? Such was our spirit. We laughed at thoughts of death, and poured contempt upon the trials of life. We were strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Oh, what splendid times we have had when God has been with us. Oh, yes! in God’s house you have known the days of heaven upon earth. Not unfrequently too have I known that the Lord has appeared to His people and warmed their hearts when they have been working for Him.
IV. Sometimes the sweet seasons come to us when we do not expect them. “Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Ammi-nadib.” Some poor hearts do not reckon ever to have these joys again. They say, “No, no, they are all gone; the last leaf has blown from the tree; the, last flower has faded in the garden. My summer is past. It is all over with me!” That is the bitter complaint and the hollow murmuring of unbelief. But the Lord for whom ye wait can suddenly appear, and while you are saying hard things of yourself He can refute them with the beams of His countenance. Even at this very moment you may stand like Hannah, a woman of sorrowful spirit, feeling as if you would be sent away empty; yea, and God’s servant himself may address you with rough words as Eli did her, and may even tell you that you are drunken, when it is deep grief that enfeebles your steps and chokes your voice; and all the while the Lord may have in store for you such a blessing as you have never dreamed of; and He may say to thee, “Go thy way, My daughter; I have heard thy petition, thy soul shall have its desire. Or ever I was aware, while my unbelief led me to think such a thing impossible, Thou hast made me like the chariots of Ammi-nadib. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
