SERMON X.
THOU ART THE MAN.
2 Sam. xii. 7.
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man.
The parable, of which these words are a part, is admired, even for its elegance and simplicity, by every one who is capable of appreciating its merit. It serves also to illustrate, in the clearest manner, the advantage of this mode of instruction; which is intended, in the first place, by a lively representation of the productions of nature, or the incidents of common life, to convey an adequate notion of a truth or doctrine in easy and familiar terms; and to leave a more striking impression of it upon the memory and the heart. The parable has a further advantage: the instruction it affords is not at once unfolded to the mind; the attention and the feelings are first awakened, by the relation of some interesting occurrence, apparently unconnected with the object in view; by which means, an assent is gained over to the side of truth, before the understanding has had time to be prejudiced, by the workings of self-love, or the disinclination to religious admonition.
Such was precisely the case with the parable before us. Had Nathan addressed to David a direct and formal expostulation, it is probable that the king would have considered his interference as intrusive and impertinent; would have either driven him from his presence, or have been prepared, by some plausible excuse, to cast a veil over the hideousness of his crimes. But the royal offender, though he could readily palliate his own atrocity, could not bear to hear of cruelty in another. When it was reported to him, that there were two men in a city, the one rich and the other poor; that the rich man, when there came a traveller unto him, spared to take of the abundance of his own flock, and of his own herd, and took from the poor man a little ewe lamb, which was all he had in the world; took it from him under the most affecting circumstances; “for he had bought and nourished it up, and it grew up together with him and with his children; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter.” When the king heard all this, his feelings were violently excited, “his anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to Nathan, as the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die.” [174] This was the moment for making the application: and judge of David’s shame and confusion of face, on finding that all his pity, and all his anger, and all his condemnation, had in truth been directed against himself: “Thou art the man.” He could not help perceiving, that great as was the cruelty, which he had been reprobating in the case laid before him, he had been guilty of still greater himself: though he had the whole kingdom for the exercise of his legitimate choice, he would rather deprive an humble servant of the only object of his conjugal affection, deprive him, by becoming, in the first instance, accessary to his murder.
We may here observe, how terrible is the infatuation of sin. It might have been thought that David, if he had not immediately perceived the full intention of the prophet in laying this parable before him, would at least, from an instantaneous recollection of his own notorious guilt, have treated, with some degree of lenity or forbearance, the barbarity of which Nathan appeared to be complaining; that he would not so soon have denounced against a delinquent, so much less heinous than himself, the utmost severity of punishment. But, as if his own conscience were clear, he immediately exclaimed against the imagined offender, as a wretch unfit to live; he does not appear to have been awakened to a sense of his own crimes, till he heard the overwhelming application, “Thou art the man.”
Such is generally the fascination of sin; it darkens the understanding, and deadens the conscience, and renders men insensible to their real condition. It is the great object of the enemy of our souls, an object in which he too often fatally succeeds, to make us blind, not only to the heinousness and danger, but also to the very existence of guilt: so that, however acute we may be in perceiving the transgressions of others, and however severe in reprobating and condemning them, we are, in very frequent instances, utterly regardless of our own. Many, it is to be feared, there are, who persist in a course of sin day after day, and year after year, without once feeling any lively or serious compunction; while they have frequently, in that time, been reproachfully animadverting upon the mote which they have detected in their brother’s eye.
Perhaps of all the temporal consequences of sin, the operation of this evil habit is one of the most calamitous; for it not only prevents us from a repentance of the past, but serves as an encouragement to our reckless perseverance in sin; it destroys the very principle of vital religion; removing entirely from our hearts the love and fear of God; and filling us with “envy, hatred, and malice and all uncharitableness.” Let David’s infatuation be a warning to us, let it induce us to take diligent heed, lest we be irreclaimably “hardened by the deceitfulness of sin;” lest the conscience be at length so entirely seared, as to become callous to the very perception of iniquity; as to make us “call evil good, and good evil; to put darkness for light, and light for darkness; to put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter.” [177]
Before, however, we further proceed to the practical inferences which may be drawn from this subject, it may be proper to notice some irreverent and reproachful remarks, which have been made on the flagrant crimes of a person so distinguished as David. Is it possible, some have urged, that such guilt, and such hardihood in guilt, could have been found in the “man after God’s own heart?” [178] But this honourable appellation, be it observed, was given to David, not on account of his moral or spiritual purity, but on account of the excellence of his character as a king; he was so named in opposition to Saul, who had acted in wilful disobedience to the divine commands, and therefore, in the administration of his government, was not a man after God’s own heart; that is, he did not (as David did, in this particular,) perform God’s will.
Again, it has been said, could an inspired person possibly fall into such a complication of evil? Miraculous inspiration, we answer, was not given to the sacred pen-men, as a certain preservative from the corruption of sin, but to enable them to reveal the will of God; to guard them, in this respect, from error; and to “guide them into all truth:” their carnal appetites and passions were not supernaturally overruled; they still had their choice between good and evil; though revealing to mankind the holy law of God, they might themselves neglect the duties which it injoined: many instances are recorded of the abuse of spiritual gifts, many examples of their consisting with unholiness and transgression. The very chief of the apostles intimates to us the personal care and watchfulness and labour which were necessary, “lest, having preached to others, he himself should be a castaway.” [179]
Not but that David’s guilt was most deplorably inconsistent with his high character and office, and was a dishonour to religion itself; I am only shewing, that it was not incompatible with the appellation which he had received, and the high and holy functions which he was called to discharge. And be it remembered, to David’s honour, that though his sin was aggravated, his confession of it was full and unreserved; that he most humbly and religiously submitted to the penal retribution of his offended God; that his repentance was bitter and sincere: it was “a repentance indeed never afterwards repented of:” continually was his harp attuned to the bewailing of his own depravity; continually was he descending from the lofty strains of thanksgiving and joy, and pouring forth in the abasement of his soul, the doleful notes of mourning and lamentation.