This chapter states that such a rest is possible.
"Let us labor therefore to enter into that rest." Rest? What rest?
His rest, says the first verse; my rest, says the third verse;
God's rest, says the fourth verse. And this last verse is
a quotation from the earliest page of the Bible, which tells how God rested
from all the work that he had made. And as we turn to that marvelous apocalypse
of the past, which in so many respects answers to the apocalypse of the
future given us by the Apostle John, we find that, whereas we are expressly
told of the evening and morning of each of the other days of creation,
there is no reference to the dawn or close of God's rest-day; and we are
left to infer that it is impervious to time, independent of duration, unlimited,
and eternal; that the ages of human story are but hours in the rest-day
of Jehovah; and that, in point of fact, we spend our years in the
Sabbath-keeping of God. But, better than all, it would appear that
we are invited to enter into it and share it; as a child living by the
placid waters of a vast fresh water lake may dip into them its cup, and
drink and drink again, without making any appreciable diminution of its
volume or ripple on its expanse.
What is meant by God resting? Surely not the
rest of weariness! "He fainteth not, neither is weary." Though
he had spread forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the earth,
and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance, and had
invented ten thousand differing forms of being, yet his inventiveness was
as fresh, his energy as vigorous as ever. Surely not the rest of
inactivity. "My Father worketh hitherto," said our Lord. "In him
we live, and move, and have our being." True, he is not now sending forth,
so far as we know, suns, or systems, or fresh types of being. But his power
is ever at work, repairing, renewing, and sustaining the fabric of the
vast machinery of the universe. No sparrow falls to the ground without
him. The cry of the young lion and the lowing of the oxen in the pastures
attract his instant regard. "In him all things consist." It was the
rest of a finished work. He girded himself to the specific work
of creation, and summoned into being all that is; and when it was finished
he said it was very good: and at once he rested from all his work which
he had created and made. It was the rest of divine complacency, of infinite
satisfaction, of perfect content. It was equivalent to saying, "This creation
of mine is all that I meant it to be, finished and perfect. I am perfectly
satisfied; there is nothing more to be done; it is all very good."
This, then, is the rest which we are invited
to share. We are not summoned to the heavy slumber which follows
over-taxing toil, nor to inaction or indolence; but to the rest which is
possible amid swift activity and strenuous work; to perfect equilibrium
between the outgoings and incomings of the life; to a contented heart;
to peace that passeth all understanding; to the repose of the will in the
will of God; and to the calm of the depths of the nature which are undisturbed
by the hurricanes which sweep the surface, and urge forward the mighty
waves. This rest is holding out both its hands to the weary souls of men
throughout the ages, offering its shelter as a harbor from the storms of
life.
But is it certain that this rest has not already
been entered and exhausted by the children of men? That question
is fully examined and answered in this wonderful paragraph. The Sabbath
did not realize that rest (ver. 3). We cannot prize its ministry
too highly. Its law is written, not only in Scripture, but in the nature
of man. The godless band of French Revolutionists found that they could
not supersede the week by the decade, the one-day-in-seven by the one-day
in-ten. Like a ministering angel it relieves the monotony of labor, and
hushes the ponderous machinery of life, and weaves its spell of rest; but
it is too fitful and transient to realize the rest of God. It may typify
it, but it cannot exhaust it. Indeed, it was broken by man's rebellion
as soon as God had sanctified and hallowed it. Canaan did not realize
that rest (ver. 8). The Land of Promise was a great relief to the
marchings and privations of the desert. But it was constantly interrupted,
and at last, in the Captivity, broken up; as the forms of the mountains
in the lake by a shower of hail. Besides, in the Book of Psalms, written
four hundred years after Joshua had led Israel across the Jordan, The Holy
Spirit, speaking by David, points onward to a rest still future (Psalm
xcv. 7). Surely, then, if neither of these events has realized the rest
of God, it remains still, waiting for us and all the people of God. "There
remaineth, therefore," unexhausted and unrealized, "a Sabbath-keeping to
the people of God."
And there is yet a further reason for this
conviction of God's unexhausted rest. Jesus, our Forerunner and
Representative, has entered into it for us. See what verse 10 affirms:
"He that is entered into his rest; " and who can he be but our great Joshua,
Jehovah-Jesus? He also has ceased from his own work of redemption, as God
did from his of creation. After the creative act, there came the Sabbath,
when God ceased from his work, and pronounced it very good; so, after the
redemptive act, there came the Sabbath to the Redeemer. He lay, during
the seventh day, in the grave of Joseph, not because he was exhausted or
inactive, but because redemption was finished, and there was no more for
him to do. He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on High; and that
majestic session is a symptom neither of fatigue nor of indolence. He ever
liveth to make intercession; he works with his servants, confirming their
words with signs; he walks amid the seven golden candlesticks. And yet
he rests as a man may rest who has arisen from his ordinary life to effect
some great deed of emancipation and deliverance; but, having accomplished
it, returns again to the ordinary routine of his former life, glad and
satisfied in his heart. Nor is this rest for Christ alone; but for us also,
who are forever identified with him in his glorious life. We have been
raised up together with him in the mind and purpose of God, and have been
made to sit with him in the heavenlies; so that in Jesus we have already
entered into the rest of God, and have simply to appropriate it by a living
faith.
How, then, may we practically realize and
enjoy the rest of God ?-( 1) We must will the will of God. So long
as the will of God, whether in the Bible or in providence, is going in
one direction and our will in another, rest is impossible. Can there be
rest in an earthly household when the children are ever chafing against
the regulations and control of their parents? How much less can we be at
rest if we harbor an incessant spirit of insubordination and questioning,
contradicting and resisting the will of God! That will must be done on
earth as it is in heaven. None can stay his hand, or say, What dost thou?
It will be done with us, or in spite of us. If we resist it, the yoke against
which we rebel will only rub a sore place on our skin; but we must still
carry it. How much wiser, then, meekly to yield to it, and submit ourselves
under the mighty hand of God, saying, "Not my will, but thine be done!"
The man who has learned the secret of Christ, in saying a perpetual "Yes"to
the will of God; whose life is a strain of rich music to the theme, "Even
so, Father"; whose will follows the current of the will of God, as the
smoke from our chimneys permits itself to be wafted by the winds of autumn,
that man will find rest unto his soul.
We must accept the finished work of Christ.
He has ceased from the work of our redemption, because there was no more
to do. Our sins and the sins of the world were put away. The power of the
adversary was annulled. The gate of heaven was opened to all that believe.
All was finished, and was very good. Let us, then, cease from our works.
Let us no longer feel as if we have to do aught, by our tears or prayers
or works, to make ourselves acceptable to God. Why should we try to add
one stitch to a finished garment, or append one stroke to the signed and
sealed warrant of pardon placed within our hands? We need have no anxiety
as to the completeness or sufficiency of a divinely finished thing. Let
us quiet our fears by considering that what satisfies Christ, our Saviour
and Head, may well satisfy us. Let us dare to stand without a qualm in
God's presence, by virtue of the glorious and completed sacrifice of Calvary.
Let us silence every tremor of unrest by recalling the dying cry on the
cross, and the witness of the empty grave.
We must trust our Father's care. "Casting
all your care upon him, for he careth for you." Sometimes like a wild deluge,
sweeping all before it, and sometimes like the continual dropping of water,
so does care mar our peace. That we shall some day fall by the hand of
Saul; that we shall be left to starve or pine away our days in a respectable
workhouse; that we shall never be able to get through the difficulties
of the coming days or weeks; household cares, family cares, business cares;
cares about servants, children, money; crushing cares, and cares that buzz
around the soul like a swarm of gnats on a summer's day, what rest can
there be for a soul thus beset? But, when we once learn to live by faith,
believing that our Father loves us, and will not forget or forsake us,
but is pledged to supply all our needs; when we acquire the holy habit
of talking to him about all, and handing over all to him, at the moment
that the tiniest shadow is cast upon the soul; when we accept insult and
annoyance and interruption, coming to us from whatever quarter, as being
his permission, and, therefore, as part of his dear will for us, then we
have learned the secret of the Gospel of Rest.
We must follow our Shepherd's lead. "
We which have believed do enter into rest" (ver. 3). The way is dark;
the mountain track is often hidden from our sight by the heavy mists that
hang over hill and fell; we can hardly discern a step in front. But our
divine Guide knows. He who trod earth's pathways is going unseen at our
side. The shield of his environing protection is all around; and his voice,
in its clear, sweet accents, is whispering peace. Why should we fear? He
who touches us, touches his bride, his purchased possession, the apple
of his eye. We may, therefore, trust and not be afraid. Though the mountains
should depart, or the hills be removed, yet will his loving kindness not
depart from us, neither will the covenant of his peace be removed. And
amid the storm, and darkness, and the onsets of our foes, we shall hear
him soothing us with the sweet refrain of his own lullaby of rest: "My
peace I give unto you; in the world ye shall have tribulation, but in me
ye shall have peace."