Standing the Strain
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"What can I do then?" David asked. "Just tell me and I will do it for you." Then they replied, "It was Saul who planned to destroy us, to keep us from having any place at all in Israel. So let seven of Saul's sons or grandsons be handed over to us, and we will execute them before the Lord at Gibeon, on the mountain of the Lord." "All right," the king said, "I will do it." David gave them Saul's two sons Armoni and Mephibosheth, whose mother was Rizpah He also gave them the five sons of Saul's daughter Merab. The men of Gibeon hanged them on the mountain before the Lord.
Then Rizpah, the mother of two of the men, spread sackcloth on a rock and stayed there the entire harvest season. She prevented vultures from tearing at their bodies during the day and stopped wild animals from eating them at night. 2 Samuel 21:3-10
How often do we ever hear a sermon or ever think about poor Rizpah? There she sits—in the sacred story—for five long, weary months upon the sackcloth spread on the rock of Gibeah. The noonday sun pours down its heats upon her head, and the midnight its chilling dews—but they cannot drive her from her steady vigil beside the forms of her two crucified sons. From the early harvests of April—to the early rains of October, she allows neither the birds of the air to assail them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night. The wayfarers by the northern road from Jerusalem grow accustomed to the strange, sad spectacle of that heart-broken mother guarding from vulture and jackal—the remains of her beautiful Mephibosheth and Armoni.
Those two youths were crucified; there seems but little doubt of that. They were sacrificed to appease the wrath of the Gibeonites for the cruelties once practiced upon them by the hands of their father Saul. If we could ask that long-enduring woman, Rizpah, what enabled her to stand those five months of severe strain—her answer would be in one single word, "Love." It was the quenchless affection of a true mother's heart. It transcends every other earth-born affection. It can neither be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. This was the chord which bound Rizpah to that long vigil on the desolate rock and stood the tremendous strain.
There is a lesson for every Christian in this touching episode of the "the mother of sorrow" on the rock of Gibeah. There is only one principle in the human heart which can withstand the severe strain, which the daily wear and tear of temptation and trial bring upon us. It is love for Jesus. Our heart must be in our religion—and our religion in our heart—or else it is a most toilsome drudgery or an irksome hypocrisy. This is the secret reason why so many church members shirk their duties. There is no genuine, long-enduring love of their crucified Master at the core of the heart. So their religion is toil and task-work. The Bible is taken as a bitter medicine, and not devoured as sweet honey. There must be a constant baiting and bribing by attractions of fine preaching and fine music, or else the Sunday service would be a sort of compulsory penance. As it is, about every rainy Sunday brings doubt and disgrace upon full one-half of the professed piety of the land. A man in whose soul, love for Jesus rings no bell of devotion—is always glad for an excuse to shirk the sanctuary on a disagreeable day.
Money-giving for Christ's cause is to such a professor—an orthodox larceny; he flings his contribution at the box grudgingly, as if he would say, "There it is—since you must have it; when will these everlasting donations be done with?" The whole routine of external service in the name of religion, is gone through slavishly, perfunctorily, and heartlessly, as if the lash of a task-master was brandished over the head. Such Christianity is Christless. There is no joy and no power in it, and when a severe strain of temptation comes on its possessor, it snaps like a thread, and leaves him to a terrible fall. The secret of every case of bad backsliding during the past year—has been the lack of staying power; and that staying power is based solely on the indwelling of Christ—and a supreme love for him.
Love of Jesus is essential to Christianity. It endures all things; it never fails. No privations can starve it, and no burdens can break it down. It keeps the heart of the frontier missionary warm, amid the snows of the Rocky Mountains, and gives sweetness to the crust which the overworked seamstress eats in her lonely lodging—disdaining the wages of sin. It is the core of all the piety which Christ loves to look at. It is the only cure of the reigning worldliness and covetousness and fashion-worship, which have made such havoc in too many churches. "The love of Christ constrains us." 2 Corinthians 5:14
The test-question for every Christian life is—Have I in my inmost heart, a love of Jesus strong enough to stand the strain? My religious profession has lost its novelty; will it hold out? Temptations will come; shall I conquer them or break? Christ demands constant loyalty; can I be true to him? Am I as ready to stand watch day and night to protect his honor—as poor Rizpah was to protect the lifeless forms of her beloved sons, from the birds and the beasts? These are the questions which touch the very marrow of our religion. They underlie all our heart-life, our church-life, and the very existence of every work of self-denying charity.
My brother, there is only one way to be a steadfast Christian, a thorough soul-saving Christian. It is to get the heart full of Jesus—so full that the world, and the lusts of the flesh, and the devil can get no foothold. Whether you are a pastor longing for a fresh blessing on your flock, or a Sunday-school teacher set in charge of young immortals, or a parent guarding the fireside fold, or a philanthropist toiling for the ignorant, the suffering, and the lost—you need this ever-living mainstay and inspiration.
If you only love Jesus—you will love to live for him and to labor for him. Jacob toiled seven years faithfully for Rachel, and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love which he had to the beautiful maiden in the fields of Laban. Love's labors were light. Would you then be a lightsome, joyous laborer in Christ's vineyard? Get your heart full of him. Would you be a power in your church? Get the heart full of Jesus.
Would you be kept safe from backsliding? Then keep yourself in the love of your Savior. Put that master-affection so deep down, that it shall underlie all selfishness; so deep that the frosts of the current skepticism cannot reach it; so deep that the frictions of daily life cannot wear upon it; so deep that the power of temptation cannot touch it; so deep that even when old age dries up the other affections of our nature, this undying love shall flow like an artesian well.
Let us stop then occasionally and take one look at that steadfast Rizpah watching beside the crosses of her crucified sons. She stood the strain, until her noble constancy won the king's eye and secured their honorable burial. There is an infinitely holier cross, an infinitely diviner Sacrifice, which demands our steadfast loyalty. If a mother's love could endure so much, what will not the love of a redeemed soul bear for its Redeemer? Oh, for a fresh baptism of this mighty love—a fresh and a full inpouring, so that no accursed spirit of the world, no temptation, no self-indulgence, no, nor any other creature—shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord!
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