CHAPTER I.
There is something peculiarly striking in the manner in which the Holy Ghost opens this sublime book. He introduces us, at once, to God, in the essential fulness of his being, and the solitariness of his acting. All prefatory matter is omitted. It is to God we are brought. We hear him, as it were, breaking earth's silence, and shining in upon earth's darkness, for the purpose of developing a sphere in which he might display his eternal power and Godhead.
There is nothing here on which idle curiosity may feed,—nothing on which the poor human mind may speculate. There is the sublimity and reality of DIVINE TRUTH, in its moral power to act on the heart, and on the understanding. It could never come within the range of the Spirit of God to gratify idle curiosity by the presentation of curious theories. Geologists may explore the bowels of the earth, and draw forth from thence materials from which to add to, and, in some instances, to contradict, the Divine record. They may speculate upon fossil remains; but the disciple hangs, with sacred delight, over the page of inspiration. He reads, believes, and worships. In this spirit may we pursue our study of the profound book which now lies open before us. May we know what it is to "inquire in the temple." May our investigations of the precious contents of holy scripture be ever prosecuted in the true spirit of worship.
"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." The first sentence in the divine canon sets us in the presence of him who is the infinite source of all true blessedness. There is no elaborate argument in proof of the existence of God. The Holy Ghost could not enter upon any thing of the kind. God reveals himself. He makes himself known by his works. "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handy-work." "All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord." "Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty." None but an infidel or an atheist would seek an argument in proof of the Being of One who, by the word of his mouth, called worlds into existence, and declared himself the All-wise, the Almighty, and the everlasting God. Who but "God" could "create" any thing. "Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number; he calleth them all by names, by the greatness of his might, for that he is strong in power; not one faileth." (Is. xl. 26.) "The gods of the heathen are idols, but the Lord made the heavens." In the Book of Job (chap. xxxviii.-xli.) we have an appeal of the very grandest description, on the part of Jehovah himself, to the work of creation, as an unanswerable argument in proof of his infinite superiority; and this appeal, while it sets before the understanding the most vivid and convincing demonstration of God's omnipotence, touches the heart, also, by its amazing condescension. The majesty and the love, the power and the tenderness, are all divine.
"And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep." Here was, in good truth, a scene in which God alone could act. Man, in the pride of his heart, has since proved himself but too ready to interfere with God in other and far higher spheres of action; but, in the scene before us, man had no place until, indeed, he became, like all the rest, the subject of creative power. God was alone in creation. He looked forth from his eternal dwelling-place of light upon the wild waste, and there beheld the sphere in which his wondrous plans and counsels were yet to be unfolded and brought out—where the Second Person of the Eternal Trinity was yet to live, and labor, and testify, and bleed, and die, in order to display, in the view of wondering worlds, the glorious perfections of the Godhead. All was darkness and chaos; but God is the God of light and order. "God is light, and in him is no darkness at all." Darkness and confusion cannot live in his presence, whether we look at it in a physical, moral, intellectual, or spiritual point of view.
"The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." He sat brooding over the scene of his future operations. A dark scene, truly; and one in which there was ample room for the God of light and life to act. He alone could enlighten the darkness, cause life to spring up, substitute order for chaos, open an expanse between the waters, where life might display itself without fear of death. These were operations worthy of God.
"God said, Let there be light: and there was light." How simple! And yet how Godlike! "He spake, and it was done. He commanded, and it stood fast." Infidelity may ask, "How? where? when?" The answer is, "By faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear." (Heb. xi. 3.) This satisfies the teachable spirit. Philosophy may smile contemptuously at this, and pronounce it rude ignorance, or blind credulity, suitable enough for an age of semi-barbarism, but quite unworthy of men living in an enlightened age of the world's history, when the museum and the telescope have put us in possession of facts of which the inspired penman knew nothing. What wisdom! What learning! Yea, rather, what folly! What nonsense! What total inability to grasp the scope and design of sacred scripture! It, assuredly, is not God's object to make us astronomers or geologists; or to occupy us with details which the microscope or the telescope lays before every school-boy. His object is to lead us into his presence, as worshippers, with hearts and understandings taught and duly governed by his Holy Word. But this would never do for the so-called philosopher, who, despising what he terms the vulgar and narrow-minded prejudices of the devout disciple of the Word, boldly seizes his telescope, and therewith scans the distant heavens, or travels into the deep recesses of earth in search of strata, formations and fossils,—all of which, according to his account, greatly improve, if they do not flatly contradict, the inspired narrative.
With such "oppositions of science falsely so called," we have nothing to do. We believe that all true discoveries, whether "in the heavens above, in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth," will harmonize with that which is written in the word of God; and if they do not thus harmonize, they are perfectly contemptible in the judgment of every true lover of scripture. This gives great rest to the heart in a day like the present, so productive of learned speculations and high-sounding theories, which, alas! in too many instances, savor of rationalism and positive infidelity. It is most needful to have the heart thoroughly established as to the fulness, the authority, the completeness, the majesty, the plenary inspiration of the sacred volume. This will be found to be the only effectual safeguard against the rationalism of Germany and the superstition of Rome. Accurate acquaintance with, and profound subjection to, the Word, are the great desiderata of the present moment. May the Lord, in his great grace, abundantly increase in our midst both the one and the other.
"And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night." Here we have the two great symbols so largely employed throughout the Word. The presence of light makes the day; the absence thereof makes the night. Thus it is in the history of souls. There are "the sons of light" and "the sons of darkness." This is a most marked and solemn distinction. All upon whom the light of Life has shone,—all who have been effectually visited by the Dayspring from on high,—all who have received the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ,—all such, whoever and wherever they may be, belong to the first class, are "the sons of light, and the sons of the day."