A Solemn Disclaimer.
xxvii. 4, 5. Fury is not in me, &c.
The figurative language in ver. 1 sets forth some powerful and terrible enemies of Israel—cruel, crafty, and bloodthirsty oppressors. But, terrible as they were to Israel, they were no more than “briers and thorns” in the way of Israel’s God. He would “march against them and go through them,” just as soldiers on their march tread down and crush so frail a barrier as these would be against them. His own people the while should be the object of His special and necessary care (vers. 2, 3). And if they should so offend as to draw down His judgments upon them, still He would not deal with them as adversaries. He would be ready to make peace with them again on their humbling themselves before Him. The solemn disclaimer of our text should be borne in mind by us when we study—
I. God’s threatenings against the wicked. Many of these are very terrible, and a certain class of religionists would have us believe that these alarming texts of Holy Scripture are metaphors that mean nothing, and that we dishonour “the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” if we associate His name with anything that savours of wrath, vengeance, and severity. But this is taking a meagre and one-sided view of the Divine Character. In God there is not only love, but also holiness, which “cannot look upon iniquity;” justice, which “will by no means clear the guilty;” and truth, which forewarns and will not fail to punish the transgressors of law and order. Let us not mistake the character of such punishment. A furious man acts on the passionate impulse of the moment. He strikes blindly and without consideration; does many things which, when the excitement is over, he will be sorry for and try to undo. But nothing like this is there with God. His threatenings are not uttered in blind and inconsiderate wrath, but in awful calmness of judgment, and in vindication of His essential and eternal holiness; and thus, too, they will be executed. This it is that will make the judgment-day so awful, and that then will reduce the condemned to despair. The son who sees his father’s anger so stirred against him, that vain attempt were it to reason with him, vain to offer a word of explanation or excuse, does well to keep out of his father’s way, and hope for a better time to stand before him and ask to be forgiven. But no such hope is there, when the offender sees that his aggrieved parent—not furiously, but “out of very faithfulness”—is about to administer a threatened punishment; ay, and that his heart is heavy, and his eye dim with tears, even while he punishes! And this, allowing for the inevitable weakness of any illustration of such a matter, may serve to convey the idea which I would impress upon you. “The Father of mercies and God of all comfort” will certainly execute His threatenings against impenitent transgressors. Not in passionate haste, and on sudden impulse of which He might afterwards repent, will the Lord make “a way for His anger” against sin.
II. The doctrine of the atonement. Not a few earnest men becloud and all but explain away this fundamental doctrine, because (they tell us) they cannot endure the thought of sin being punished in the person of the Sinless One. They do not like to hear of the Father’s “wrath” being averted and (as it is said) “appeased” by the death of His Son; of God looking out (as it were) for a victim, and fastening upon the One found guiltless as a substitute for the guilty mass! But this mistaken representation arises from attributing to God a passion which in men would be indignation and wrath. But what does our text say? “Fury is not in Me.” We may not think of our heavenly Father as an angry Being, furiously raging against those whom the devil has proved too strong for, and not to be appeased till He found a victim on which to wreak His vengeance! But no unwillingness on our part to hear it can alter that which is written (2 Cor. v. 21; 1 Pet. iv. 18; Isa. liii. 5, 6). If we study this great subject aright, we shall find in the Atonement the result of the co-working of the calmest (and therefore most inflexible) justice and the tenderest love.—T. W. Peile, D.D.: Sermons, pp. 101–112.
The text expresses the preference of God for forgiveness rather than for punishment, and the conditions of that forgiveness; but, at the same time, the utter overthrow of all who continue in opposition to His will. It suggests—
I. A blessed absence in the nature of God. “Fury is not in me.” Fury seems to be uncontrolled and uncontrollable anger, such as that with which the storm seems to beat upon the dismasted, helpless vessel; such as that which inspires the hungry lion that has been for some hours disappointed of its prey. When a man is so under the influence of anger that no consideration from within or intercession from without can pacify him, he is in a state of fury. But no such state is possible to our God. His anger is always under control, He is always the Lord God, abundant in goodness and truth; and we have also plentiful evidence that, in the height of His displeasure, He is accessible to intercession on behalf of His creatures. See how the Son of God ends His woes against “Scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites,” with “O Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered,” &c. Recall the effect of Abram’s pleading for Sodom, and that of Moses for unbelieving Israel (Num. xiv.) The declaration of the text has been abundantly verified in all ages. Nevertheless,
II. This blessed absence in the nature of God is compatible with contention with the unrepenting. “Who would set the briers,” &c. Imagine a father and a son at variance, the father being in the right, and son in the wrong. There are two ways of reconciliation; either the son must comply with the conditions of the father, or the father must lower his standard to the level of the son. But what a wrong would the father do himself, his family, and society, if he were to adopt this course! He ought not, will not. If the son resolves to fight it out, reconciliation is impossible. This is the relative position of God and the ungodly man. God says, “I am Jehovah, I change not.” It is a blessed impossibility. But the unrepentant man ought, can, must! If no, the fire of goodness must be set against the briers of wickedness, a contest as hopeless, and of which the issue is as certain, as that of the devouring flame with briers and thorns.
Conclusion.—The absence of fury in God leads Him to prefer pardon to punishment, and to provide means for the former. “Let him take hold of my strength,” &c. Men, churches, and nations are lovers of peace in proportion as they are righteous (Ps. lxxii. 3). The preference of God for peace depends upon the very attribute of which the ungodly would rob Him, His righteousness. What is God’s strength? How take hold of it? When a man falls overboard at sea, the appointed means of rescue is the life-belt which is thrown to him. Seizing that, he lays hold of the strength of the vessel to save him. When the man-slayer, fleeing from the avenger of blood, entered the city of refuge, he took hold of God’s appointed means of shelter. God’s strength is His pardoning prerogative, exercises to us through Christ, the “arm” or “strength” of the Lord. See how Moses takes hold of it (Num. xiv. 19). And the prodigal (Luke xv. 21; Rom. v. 1).—Horace Bushnell, D.D.