John Kitto Evening Bible Devotions: June 4

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John Kitto Evening Bible Devotions: June 4

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The Stroke

Eze_24:15-18

A strange and deep interest belongs to one of the incidents in the personal history of Ezekiel which the course of this prophecy discloses. He was married. His wife was very dear to him; for she is called “the desire of his eyes.” He knew that they must one day be parted. He must die; she too must die—which first, was known to God only. But there was nothing in his age or state of health, nor anything in hers, to suggest that this hour of calamity was near; and probably Ezekiel, although a prophet, did as most men do in regard to this matter—refused to let his mind rest upon it, or to contemplate it with any steadiness. It may be said there are really very few who look death—their own death—steadily in the face; and there are certainly fewer still who look their wife’s death in the face. And the prophet was as other men in this respect. Differences of time, of manners, of woman’s social position, do not make much difference in such matters. The poor old heart is the same all through; and is everywhere, and in all time, smitten by the same barbs, and bleeds from the same wounds.

Doubt not, therefore, that Ezekiel felt as any one of us would feel on receiving the intimation: “Son of man, behold I take away the desire of thine eyes with a stroke.” Strange intimation! The very terms in which it is conveyed aggravates the agony it is suited to inflict, by reminding of the value of that which he was thus suddenly to lose. She was described to him as “the desire of his eyes;” and she is to be taken from him, —not through the painful but soothing warnings of the sick-bed, by which the mind is gradually prepared to meet the worst, but suddenly “by a stroke,” quick and sharp. Consider what that loss was to him. That she was a good and loving woman is implied throughout. Besides, he was now in captivity among the Babylonians; and his wife was no doubt a sweet companion and comfort to him in the midst of all the reproaches, troubles, and difficulties he met with. And she was to be taken by one of those strokes which wound the survivors so deeply, that but for the slight preparation this very intimation offered, it may well be thought that even Ezekiel, being, though a prophet, a man such is we are, might himself also have sunk, heart-smitten by the stroke. Hence there was graciousness to him in this intimation, hard though it were.

Do we not hear the exceeding sharp and bitter cry which this intimation drew from him? Do we not see the hot tears which it wrung from eyes unused to weep, Note: Ezekiel never describes himself as moved to weeping or tears; Isaiah does sometimes, and Jeremiah often. and for that reason more hot and bitter? We hear nothing of this: we see nothing. The desire of his eyes is not only to die, but must die unlamented, save in his heart. He must “make no mourning” for her; he must “bind the tire upon his head” as usual, and not suffer his locks to float wild for her; he must “put on his shoes upon his feet,” and not walk “softly and barefoot for her,”—nor for her “cover his lips,” nor “eat the bread of men.” These were acts of mourning from which he was interdicted; and it was hard to omit them. The world might look upon it as a heartless indifference to the memory of one so loved; and the neglect of customary observances of mourning on the part of the living, was deemed an insult to the dead. This was hard. But there was something harder yet. “Thou shalt not mourn nor weep, neither shall thy tears run down.” The other inhibitions had been easy to this. Those touched but the outer mourning; these the inner—the mourning of the heart.

And what did the prophet say to all this?

He said nothing. It was of the Lord.

And what did he do?

He knew that this was for a sign; and with this doom over the wife of his youth, so soon to be accomplished, he girded up the loins of his mind to his public duty, and told the people of this strange and solemn matter, which it is needful they should understand.

And what then?

“In the evening my wife died.”

And what more?

“And I did in the morning as I was commanded.”

These simple intimations reach the utmost sublimity of moral grandeur—nay, more than that, of devout, and therefore absolute, submission to Him who doeth all things well. It was in this conviction, in the firm persuasion, that the Lord laid this burden upon him, not needlessly, but most wisely; not in anger, but with love and pity for the soul He wounded, that, like another of old, he could say, “I was dumb, I opened not my mouth—because Thou didst it;” and followed the great example of him of whom it is said, “And Aaron held his peace,” when his sons died before his eyes.

Nay, more. It is not enough to say that he submitted to this dispensation. He acquiesced in it; because he knew that it was intended for the benefit of his people, as completing by the most signal and impressive of all, that series of literal and symbolical warnings, by which he had labored to gain the attention of his people, and to stay their downward course to ruin.

Observe well, that all commentators perceive an interval of time between this chapter and those that follow—this being the last of the prophecies delivered before the destruction of Jerusalem. He is allowed to rest awhile in his sorrows, public and private; and when he comes forth again, it is to speak; in an altered strain—denouncing the doom of the nations which had afflicted Israel, or had exulted in her fall; and to declare the glory and blessedness which the great future had in store.

Now he was to stand as “a sign to them” from the Lord: “According to all that he hath done, shall ye do; and when this cometh, ye shall know that I am the Lord.” They also should lose “the desire of their eyes,”—the city and temple of their fathers should be brought low unto the dust; and their beloved ones should perish by the sword. Yet they should not dare, nor find occasion to satisfy their griefs with customary mourning, though they “might mourn inwardly, and pine away for their iniquities.”

That this deep and sad lesson might be the more effectually taught, the devoted prophet was willing even to yield up “the desire of his eyes.” He knew it would not be lost or fail of its effect. For although it should avail not for anterior warning, it would for subsequent conviction. When these things had befallen them, they would remember these forewarnings, and be constrained to acknowledge that their doom had indeed come from God, and had been most righteously inflicted; and would be among the agencies tending to that reformation that actually took place, which the prophet himself lived to witness, and in which be found the rich reward of his labors and sufferings. For these results, which it is clear he was permitted to contemplate; this great prophet was willing to take up this cross—the heaviest, one may say, that man was ever called to bear.

“Let the Lord’s servants in every age copy after this instructive example. Let them come here from time to time and contemplate one of Heaven’s noblest witnesses, struggling to the last, if haply he might do something to stem the swelling tide of evil; and even at the last, when all has proved ineffectual, still readily offering himself upon the sacrifice and service—not, indeed, of the people’s faith, but still of their highest well-being, which he sought with a fervor and devotion unknown to themselves. With such a lofty spirit of consecration to the work of God, what enterprises of philanthropy might not be undertaken, and what triumphs ultimately won!” Note: Fairbairn’s Ezekiel and the Book of his Prophecy. Edinburgh.