One cannot help remarking the fact that inasmuch as Jacob failed to learn and judge the inherent character of his flesh before God, therefore he was in the providence of God led into the very sphere in which that character was fully exhibited in its broadest lines. He was conducted to Haran, the country of Laban and Rebekah, the very school from whence those principles, in which he was such a remarkable adept, had emanated, and where they were taught, exhibited, and maintained. If one wanted to learn what God was, he should go to Bethel; if to learn what man was, he should go to Haran. But Jacob had failed to take in God's revelation of himself at Bethel, and he therefore went to Haran, and there showed what he was,—and oh, what scrambling and scraping! what shuffling and shifting! There is no holy and elevated confidence in God, no simply looking to and waiting on him. True, God was with Jacob,—for nothing can hinder the outshinings of divine grace. Moreover, Jacob in a measure owns God's presence and faithfulness. Still nothing can be done without a scheme and a plan. Jacob cannot allow God to settle the question as to his wives and his wages, but seeks to settle all by his own cunning and management. In short, it is "the supplanter" throughout. Let the reader turn, for example, to Chap. xxx. 37-42, and say where he can find a more masterly piece of cunning. It is verily a perfect picture of Jacob. In place of allowing God to multiply "the ringstraked, speckled, and spotted cattle," as he most assuredly would have done, had he been trusted, he sets about securing their multiplication by a piece of policy which could only have found its origin in the mind of a Jacob. So in all his actings, during his twenty years' sojourn with Laban; and finally, he most characteristically "steals away," thus maintaining in every thing his consistency with himself.
Now, it is in tracing out Jacob's real character from stage to stage of his extraordinary history, that one gets a wondrous view of divine grace. None but God could have borne with such an one, as none but God would have taken such an one up. Grace begins at the very lowest point. It takes up man as he is, and deals with him in the full intelligence of what he is. It is of the very last importance to understand this feature of grace at one's first starting; it enables us to bear with steadiness of heart the after discoveries of personal vileness which so frequently shake the confidence and disturb the peace of the children of God.
Many there are who at first fail in the full apprehension of the utter ruin of nature as looked at in God's presence, though their hearts have been attracted by the grace of God, and their consciences tranquillized in some degree by the application of the blood of Christ. Hence, as they get on in their course, they begin to make deeper discoveries of the evil within; and, being deficient in their apprehensions of God's grace and the extent and efficacy of the sacrifice of Christ, they immediately raise a question as to their being children of God at all. Thus they are taken off Christ and thrown on themselves, and then they either betake themselves to ordinances in order to keep up their tone of devotion, or else fall back into thorough worldliness and carnality. These are disastrous consequences, and all the result of not having "the heart established in grace."
It is this that renders the study of Jacob's history so profoundly interesting and eminently useful. No one can read the three chapters now before us and not be struck at the amazing grace that could take up such an one as Jacob; and not only take him up, but say, after the full discovery of all that was in him, "He hath not beheld iniquity in Jacob, neither hath he seen perverseness in Israel." (Numb. xxiii. 21.) He does not say that iniquity and perverseness were not in him. This would never give the heart confidence,—the very thing above all others which God desires to give. It could never assure a poor sinner's heart to be told that there was no sin in him; for alas! he knows too well there is; but to be told there is no sin on him, and that, moreover, in God's sight, on the simple ground of Christ's perfect sacrifice, must infallibly set his heart and conscience at rest. Had God taken up Esau, we should not have had by any means such a blessed display of grace; for this reason, that he does not appear before us in the unamiable light in which we see Jacob. The more man sinks, the more God's grace rises. As my debt rises in my estimation from the fifty pence up to the five hundred, so my sense of grace rises also, my experience of that love which, when we "had nothing to pay," could "frankly forgive" us all. (Luke vii. 42.) Well might the apostle say, "it is a good thing that the heart be established with grace: not with meats, which have not profited them that have been occupied therein." (Heb. xiii. 9.)
CHAPTER XXXII.
"And Jacob went on his way, and the angels of God met him." Still God's grace follows him, notwithstanding all. "Nothing changeth God's affection." Whom he loves, and how he loves, he loves to the end. His love is like himself, "the same yesterday, to-day, and forever." But how little effect "God's host" had upon Jacob may be seen by his actings as here set before us. "And Jacob sent messengers before him to Esau his brother, unto the land of Seir, the country of Edom." He evidently feels uneasy in reference to Esau, and not without reason. He had treated him badly, and his conscience was not at ease; but instead of casting himself unreservedly upon God, he betakes himself to his usual planning again, in order to avert Esau's wrath. He tries to manage Esau, instead of leaning on God.
"And he commanded them, saying, Thus shall ye speak unto my lord Esau; thy servant Jacob saith thus, I have sojourned with Laban, and stayed there until now." All this bespeaks a soul very much off its centre in God. "My lord," and "thy servant," is not like the language of a brother, or of one in the conscious dignity of the presence of God; but it was the language of Jacob, and of Jacob, too, with a bad conscience.
"And the messengers returned to Jacob, saying, We came to thy brother Esau, and also he cometh to meet thee, and four hundred men with him. Then Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed." But what does he first do? Does he at once cast himself upon God? No; he begins to manage. "He divided the people that was with him, and the flocks, and herds, and the camels, into two bands; and said, If Esau come to the one company and smite it, then the other company which is left shall escape." Jacob's first thought was always a plan; and in this we have a true picture of the poor human heart. True, he turns to God after he makes his plan, and cries to him for deliverance; but no sooner does he cease praying than he resumes the planning. Now, praying and planning will never do together. If I plan, I am leaning more or less on my plan; but when I pray, I should lean exclusively upon God. Hence, the two things are perfectly incompatible; they virtually destroy each other. When my eye is filled with my own management of things, I am not prepared to see God acting for me; and in that case prayer is not the utterance of my need, but the mere superstitious performance of something which I think ought to be done, or it may be asking God to sanctify my plans. This will never do. It is not asking God to sanctify and bless my means, but it is asking him to do it all himself.[19]