However, Moses at length consents to go; but ere he is fully equipped for his work, he must pass through another deep exercise,—yea, he must have the sentence of death inscribed by the hand of God upon his very nature. He had learnt deep lessons at "the backside of the desert;" he is called to learn something deeper still, "by the way in the inn." It is no light matter to be the Lord's servant. No ordinary education will qualify a man for such a position. Nature must be put in the place of death, and kept there. "We had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead." (2 Cor. i. 9.) Every successful servant will need to know something of this. Moses was called to enter into it, in his own experience, ere he was morally qualified. He was about to sound in the ears of Pharaoh the following deeply solemn message: "Thus saith the Lord, 'Israel is My son, even My first-born: and I say unto thee, Let My son go, that he may serve Me: and if thou refuse to let him go, behold I will slay thy son, even thy first-born.'" Such was to be his message to Pharaoh,—a message of death, a message of judgment; and, at the same time, his message to Israel was a message of life and salvation. But, be it remembered, that the man who will speak, on God's behalf, of death and judgment, life and salvation, must, ere he does so, enter into the practical power of these things in his own soul. Thus it was with Moses. We have seen him, at the very outset, in the place of death, typically; but this was a different thing from entering into the experience of death in his own person. Hence we read, "And it came to pass, by the way in the inn, that the Lord met him, and sought to kill him. Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and cast it at his feet, and said, 'Surely, a bloody husband art thou to me.' So He let him go: then she said, 'A bloody husband thou art, because of the circumcision.'" This passage lets us into a deep secret in the personal and domestic history of Moses. It is very evident that Zipporah's heart had, up to this point, shrunk from the application of the knife to that around which the affections of nature were entwined. She had avoided that mark which had to be set in the flesh of every member of the Israel of God. She was not aware that her relationship with Moses was one involving death to nature. She recoiled from the cross. This was natural. But Moses had yielded to her in the matter; and this explains to us the mysterious scene "in the inn." If Zipporah refuses to circumcise her son, Jehovah will lay His hand upon her husband; and if Moses spares the feelings of his wife, Jehovah will "seek to kill him." The sentence of death must be written on nature; and if we seek to avoid it in one way, we shall have to encounter it in another.
It has been already remarked that Zipporah furnishes an instructive and interesting type of the Church. She was united to Moses during the period of his rejection; and from the passage just quoted, we learn that the Church is called to know Christ as the One related to her "by blood." It is her privilege to drink of His cup, and be baptized with His baptism. Being crucified with Him, she is to be conformed to His death—to mortify her members which are on the earth—to take up the cross daily, and follow Him. Her relationship with Christ is founded upon blood, and the manifestation of the power of that relationship will necessarily involve death to nature. "And ye are complete in Him, which is the head of all principality and power; in whom also ye are circumcised with the circumcision made without hands, in putting off the body of the sins of the flesh by the circumcision of Christ: buried with Him in baptism, wherein also ye are risen with Him through the faith of the operation of God, who hath raised Him from the dead." (Col. ii. 10-12.)
Such is the doctrine as to the Church's place with Christ,—a doctrine replete with the richest privileges for the Church, and each member thereof. Everything, in short, is involved:—the perfect remission of sin, divine righteousness, complete acceptance, everlasting security, full fellowship with Christ in all His glory. "Ye are complete in Him." This, surely, comprehends everything. What could be added to one who is "complete"? Could "philosophy," "the tradition of men," "the rudiments of the world," "meats, drinks, holy days, new moons, or Sabbaths"? "Touch not" this, "taste not" that, "handle not" the other, "the commandments and doctrines of men," "days, and months, and times, and years,"—could any of these things, or all of them put together, add a single jot or tittle to one whom God has pronounced "complete"? We might just as well inquire if man could have gone forth upon the fair creation of God, at the close of the six days' work, to give the finishing touch to that which God had pronounced "very good."
Nor is this completeness to be, by any means, viewed as a matter of attainment,—some point which we have not yet reached, but after which we must diligently strive, and of the possession of which we cannot be sure until we lie upon a bed of death, or stand before a throne of judgment. It is the portion of the feeblest, the most inexperienced, the most unlettered child of God. The very weakest saint is included in the apostolic "ye." All the people of God "are complete in Christ." The apostle does not say, Ye will be, Ye may be, Hope that ye may be, Pray that ye may be: no; he, by the Holy Ghost, states, in the most absolute and unqualified manner, that "ye are complete." This is the true Christian starting-post; and for man to make a goal of what God makes a starting-post, is to upset everything.
But, then, some will ask, Have we no sin, no failure, no imperfection? Assuredly we have. "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." (1 John i. 8.) We have sin in us, but no sin on us. Moreover, our standing is not in self, but in Christ. It is "in Him" we "are complete." God sees the believer in Christ, with Christ, and as Christ. This is his changeless condition—his everlasting standing. "The body of the sins of the flesh" is "put off by the circumcision of Christ." The believer is not in the flesh, though the flesh is in him. He is united to Christ in the power of a new and an endless life, and that life is inseparably connected with divine righteousness in which the believer stands before God. The Lord Jesus has put away everything that was against the believer, and He has brought him nigh to God, in the self-same favor as that which He Himself enjoys. In a word, Christ is his righteousness. This settles every question, answers every objection, silences every doubt. "Both He that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified are all of one." (Heb. ii. 11.)
The foregoing line of truth has flowed out of the deeply interesting type presented to us in the relationship between Moses and Zipporah. We must now hasten to close this section, and take our leave, for the present, of "the backside of the desert," though not of its deep lessons and holy impressions, so essential to every servant of Christ, and every messenger of the living God. All who would serve effectually, either in the important work of evangelization, or in the varied ministries of the house of God—which is the Church—will need to imbibe the precious instructions which Moses received at the foot of Mount Horeb, and "by the way in the inn."
Were these things properly attended to, we should not have so many running unsent—so many rushing into spheres of ministry for which they were never designed. Let each one who stands up to preach, or teach, or exhort, or serve in any way, seriously inquire if, indeed, he be fitted and taught and sent of God. If not, his work will neither be owned of God nor blessed to men, and the sooner he ceases, the better for himself and for those upon whom he has been imposing the heavy burden of hearkening to him. Neither a humanly-appointed nor a self-appointed ministry will ever suit within the hallowed precincts of the Church of God. All must be divinely gifted, divinely taught, and divinely sent.
"And the Lord said to Aaron, 'Go into the wilderness to meet Moses.' And he went and met him in the mount of God, and kissed him. And Moses told Aaron all the words of the Lord who had sent him, and all the signs which He had commanded him." This was a fair and beauteous scene—a scene of sweet brotherly love and union—a scene which stands in marked contrast with many of those scenes which were afterwards enacted in the wilderness-career of these two men. Forty years of wilderness life are sure to make great changes in men and things. Yet it is sweet to dwell upon those early days of one's Christian course, before the stern realities of desert life had, in any measure, checked the gush of warm and generous affections,—before deceit and corruption and hypocrisy had well-nigh dried up the springs of the heart's confidence, and placed the whole moral being beneath the chilling influences of a suspicious disposition.
That such results have been produced, in many cases, by years of experience, is, alas! too true. Happy is he who, though his eyes have been opened to see nature in a clearer light than that which this world supplies, can nevertheless serve his generation by the energy of that grace which flows forth from the bosom of God. Who ever knew the depths and windings of the human heart as Jesus knew them? "He knew all, and needed not that any should testify of man; for he knew what was in man." (John ii. 24, 25.) So well did He know man, that He could not commit Himself unto him. He could not accredit man's professions, or endorse his pretensions. And yet, who so gracious as He? Who so loving, so tender, so compassionate, so sympathizing? With a heart that understood all, He could feel for all. He did not suffer His perfect knowledge of human worthlessness to keep Him aloof from human need. "He went about doing good." Why? Was it because He imagined that all those who flocked around Him were real? No; but "because God was with Him." (Acts x. 38.) This is our example. Let us follow it, though, in doing so, we shall have to trample on self and all its interests, at every step of the way.
Who would desire that wisdom, that knowledge of nature, that experience, which only lead men to ensconce themselves within the inclosures of a hard-hearted selfishness, from which they look forth with an eye of dark suspicion upon everybody? Surely, such a result could never follow from aught of a heavenly or excellent nature. God gives wisdom; but it is not a wisdom which locks the heart against all the appeals of human need and misery. He gives a knowledge of nature; but it is not a knowledge which causes us to grasp with selfish eagerness that which we, falsely, call "our own." He gives experience; but it is not an experience which results in suspecting everybody except myself. If I am walking in the footprints of Jesus, if I am imbibing, and therefore manifesting, His excellent spirit, if, in short, I can say, "To me to live is Christ;" then, while I walk through the world, with a knowledge of what the world is; while I come in contact with man, with a knowledge of what I am to expect from him; I am able, through grace, to manifest Christ in the midst of it all. The springs which move me, and the objects which animate me, are all above, where He is, who is "the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever." (Heb. xiii. 8.) It was this which sustained the heart of that beloved and honored servant, whose history, even so far, has furnished us with such deep and solid instruction. It was this which carried him through the trying and varied scenes of his wilderness course. And we may safely assert that, at the close of all, notwithstanding the trial and exercise of forty years, Moses could embrace his brother when he stood on Mount Hor, with the same warmth as he had when first he met him "in the mount of God." True, the two occasions were very different. At "the mount of God" they met and embraced, and started together on their divinely-appointed mission. Upon "Mount Hor" they met by the commandment of Jehovah, in order that Moses might strip his brother of his priestly robes, and see him gathered to his fathers, because of an error in which he himself had participated. (How solemn! How touching!) Circumstances vary: men turn away from one; but with God "is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." (James i. 17.)