Night and Morning.
xxi. 11, 12. Watchman, what of the night?
That there is night in this world few will question. He must be a bold optimist who thinks everything as it is, is for the best possible in the best possible of worlds. Darkness still covers the earth. God’s children, who have a glorious light within them, have a dark night all round about them. Night is the symbol of gloom and suffering; and it is the season of sin. It is moral night, because “men loved darkness rather than light.” Every true-hearted, earnest Christian is a watchman: he watches for his own soul, and for the souls of others; and he longs for the advent of the world’s new morning, when the shadows shall flee away. Regarding the earnest Christian as the person accosted in the text, what are his thoughts and fears about the night? What are his hopes about the morning?
1. When the Christian looks out upon the world, he sees himself surrounded by the night of unbelief and irreligion, and yet he beholds streaks of sunny dawn. There are many things at which if he looked exclusively he would despair—materialism taught by popular teachers, atheism the creed of not a few, abounding luxury, sensuality defiling and degrading all classes of the community. But, looking beyond these, he sees evidences of Christian truth and hope such as the world never before witnessed—Sunday-schools, tract societies, home and foreign missions, various organisations for Christian labour, generously supported and efficiently maintained; and, as he looks, he feels that the morning draweth nigh.
II. When the Christian man looks into his own heart, he sees much that speaks of the night, but much also that tells of the coming morning.
III. The Christless man, as well as the Christian, may well ask, “What of the night?” He may relieve the gloom of his existence by a few sparks of transient merriment, but soon they will be all extinguished; and for him there will be no morning!—W. M. Statham: Christian World Pulpit, iii. 193.
Passing from the historical application of this oracle, we observe that it may be taken as setting forth the spirit of inquiry first raised in the soul by the hand of God, the form that inquiry will take, the answer it will receive, and the direction in which it will find ultimate satisfaction.
I. Thoughts on the spirit of religious inquiry. The picture before us is that of a walled city; the middle watch of the night, when the citizens are asleep. But one anxious spirit cannot sleep; he turns out into the dark, silent, deserted street, oppressed by a strange feeling that something is going to happen. He hears the heavy footfall of the watchman pacing to and fro on the city walls. With eagerness not to be repressed, he cries, “Watchman,” &c. This is symbolical; it has its counterparts in our own time. 1. This restless inquirer is the exception. The many sleep, only one wakes and inquires. The danger is common, but only one feels any apprehension of it. There are multitudes of sinners, few inquirers concerning the way of salvation. 2. The spirit of inquiry appears in an unexpected quarter. A man of Seir, an Edomite, lifts up eager questions; the men of Israel sleep. The old, old story. Many lepers in Israel: Naaman cleansed; ten healed, the Samaritan only returns to give thanks. The boldest ventures of faith were made by the Gentile centurion and the Syro-Phœnician woman. Those who pressed into the kingdom were not Scribes and Pharisees, but publicans and sinners. So it is still. 3. The inquiry was well directed. The appeal was not to the citizens who were asleep, but to the watchman who was awake. If you have questions to ask, ask of the man of quick perception, keen sensibility, high standing, broad and firm basis of hope in Christ. Not necessarily of the minister, but of the man who is spiritually wide-awake; he is the true watchman. 4. The inquiry was weighty. What of the night? Is it far spent? When will the day dawn? What of the foe? Are they quiet in their camp? Or are they endeavouring to surprise and capture the city? We have all cause to put questions of corresponding importance. 5. This inquiry was earnest. In some cases the inquiry is listless, is only a matter of compliment; or it is entered upon reluctantly, as an unpleasant duty. But this man is in earnest. He calls again and again. He will be heard; it is a matter of moment to him. He does not know what is about to happen; the watchman should know—placed high, outlook wide, senses trained. The inquirer will not submit to be disregarded. Oh, for more of this earnestness.
II. Thoughts on the answer. 1. The answer comes through the watchman. Human lips start inquiries and through human lips the answer comes. One heart is filled with fear; another heart filled with faith must be its helper. Let those to whom the answer has been entrusted give it promptly, clearly, joyfully. 2. The answer declares God’s methods with men. God has two great methods: one has its image in the morning, the other in the night. Let morning set forth compassion, tender mercy, loving gifts; night, judgment, awful anger, heavy inflictions. If the morning be neglected or resisted, then the night will certainly fall upon you. Note the order in which these methods are employed. 1. Morning, fresh, clear, dewy, bracing, beautiful, comes first. So in the history of the world, of the Church, of the individual. First the morning of youth! prize it highly, use it wisely. Upon the sinner comes first the morning of mercy, of invitation, of entreaty and promise. Alas that he should despise and neglect it! 2. But the night comes afterwards! True, the night of death comes to all, but there is an infinite distance between death in Christ and death out of Christ. He who dies in Christ, passes into the eternal day; he who dies out of Christ, is cast into “the outer darkness!”
“Inquire”—seek to know the way of salvation. “Return”—as the prodigal from the far country. “Come”—blessed word! “Come” penitently, believingly, now!—J. R. Wood.
“Night” is suggestive of anxious, perplexed, critical states; e.g., travellers in the desert, voyagers on the ocean, sufferers in the sick-chamber. Very naturally do we transfer such thoughts as these to our spiritual experiences (Ps. cxxx. 1, 8). Our text may be taken as suggestive of the World’s Cry and the World’s Hope in all ages.
I. The world’s cry. “What of the night?” This is—1. The cry of a soul awakened to its guilt. The very purpose of conviction is to show the sinner his wandering, downward, benighted state. Hence the terror which first views of guilt usually cause. The flash which in the midnight hour shows the traveller the path of safety, also shows him the dreadful precipice which yawns at his feet. When the sinner is aroused from his sinful career, he is bewildered by the many voices of hope and fear, of warning and promise, which greet his ear; he is oppressed with anxiety to know how such a night of danger and heart-searching will end. 2. The cry of a soul struggling with its doubts. The night of mystery often burdens the hearts of true believers, as Job and David found when they struggled with the great problems of life. Life is a new thing to each of us, and many of the same problems perplex us still: e.g., the existence of moral evil, the infinite goodness of God, the truth of Divine revelation. These sometimes press upon us with unusual weight, and shroud us in thick darkness. 3. The cry of the Church in its hours of anxiety and peril. These have been frequent, and have been due to many causes: e.g., persecution from without, indifference within, general ungodliness and unholy living, tides of scepticism. The watchmen of the Church have to keep an earnest and anxious vigil when such nights as these settle upon her. 4. The cry of humanity itself. There are times when not merely a few men are oppressed by the burdens of their time, but when men in the mass become awake to them. The world betrays its keen sense of disease by the strong remedies it employs. Against wide-spread ignorance, it opposes vast educational schemes; for deep-rooted vices, it contrives various measures of reformation; under a sense of the terrible ravages of the war-spirit, it yearns for international peace. Nations, as well as individuals, have trying experiences of the terrors of social and moral night.
II. The world’s hope. “The morning cometh.” In the midst of all the world’s darkness we may cherish this blessed hope (H. E. I., 3421–3423). But whence is it derived? Solely from the fact that God in Christ is reconciling the world unto Himself. It is along the track of Divine revelation that we look for the bright rays of the morning. There is hope for our race because of what Christ is—the Revealer of God, the Saviour of sinners, the Head of the Church, the Restorer of humanity. The way, then, to help on the dawning of that day we all long to see, is to live in Him, to live for Him. Life derived from Him, and spent for Him, will be truly blessed in itself, and will be a means of blessing others.—William Manning.