xxxiii. 23. Thy tacklings are loosed, &c.
Seas, rivers, and ships have for ages afforded the world the mainstay of commerce. Not only so; the imagery of many of our best books would have been very much the poorer had not visions and dreams of the sea been present to the writers. Isaiah makes good use of these. In ver. 21 he says, “The glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad rivers and streams,” &c. Jerusalem was badly off, compared with Babylon and other cities, in that it had neither sea nor river, but only a small rivulet. Large and deep rivers near great towns have their advantages and disadvantages in time of war. The prophet here says that God would be to Jerusalem a place of broad rivers and streams, wherein no ship of war should be allowed to approach to injure His people. It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in seas or war-ships. (ver. 22).
Jerusalem, at the time, was in danger from a great power, and in the text that power, Assyria, is compared to a ship whose “tacklings are loosed,” &c. A sad plight surely for a ship to be in! But not only great powers like Assyria are, in reality, in a bad way, as abettors of wickedness, but individuals also, like the disabled vessel spoken of by the prophet; for, 1. A wicked man is like a ship whose tacklings are loosed. The tackle of a ship is of immense service in many ways; but a ship whose tackle has got loosed from her masts is not fit for a voyage. No seaman would dream of sailing in such a ship. Every rope must be in its right place and securely fixed. But how many men are out on the voyage of life, with the gear of mind and heart all loose! In fine weather, even, they make no real headway; in storms they are in peril of being cast away. They are at the mercy of every wind that blows; for, 2. A wicked man is like a ship whose masts will not stand upright. The tackle of a ship is of service in strengthening its masts. But men are out voyaging on the sea of life: they would fain stand upright, but they cannot; for their thoughts and feelings are not made use of to sustain them in an upright life; they sway under the blast; the crash of ruin is always impending. 3. A wicked man is like a ship without sails. On a mast, unstrengthened by good tackle, it is worse than useless to attempt to spread a sail. But without sails to catch the heaven-sent breezes, how shall the distant haven be reached? Even men of some moral ballast are at best like poor toilers at the oars. The port is a long way off, and they need sails—wings filled with spiritual energies—to carry them onward over miles of sea day by day. 4. A wicked man is like a dismantled ship which plunderers attack. “Then is the prey of a great spoil divided; the lame take the prey.” How poor sailors are plundered by the weakest of mankind and womankind!
Conclusion.—Sin, iniquity, that is in-equity, is at the root of the godless man’s loose thoughts and passions, tottering steps and wingless spirit. The ship wants a thorough overhauling; nay, it wants remaking (John iii. 3).
We should be homeward-bound for the kingdom of God; but it is vain to dream of reaching port as an unseaworthy vessel.—J. Macrae Simcock.
No Sickness There.
xxxiii. 24. And the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.
In a besieged city, from watching, anxiety, and scarcity of food, there is usually considerable sickness. When an epidemic disease is prevalent, sickness becomes the general experience. There is in any large population always a considerable amount of sickness, more or less serious. Nor is it confined to the city. In the country it is much the same. At the best it is only somewhat less. Medical men are everywhere required. Sanitary arrangements, temperate habits, and medical skill may diminish the extent and alleviate the severity of sickness, but they cannot uproot it. When, therefore, we read of a city in which there shall be no sickness, our thoughts turn from earth to heaven. The text is a beautifully poetic representation of the termination of the conscious weakness that rested on Jerusalem while the Assyrian army lay before it. But there is a sense in which the words may be literally understood. We believe in “the holy city, the new Jerusalem.” Let us meditate on that new condition of our life.
I. Sickness is weakness. We give the name to all states of the body other than sound and perfect health. How numerous! Our condition here is one of constant liability to it. At every period of life we are exposed to it. It may be borne to us by the air we breathe; taken with the food we eat and the water we drink; received by contact with our fellows; lurk secretly in some part of our body unsuspected; develop itself from the slight cold, the result of carelessness, or in spite of the utmost thoughtfulness; it may attack the youth as well as the old man, those who boast the fulness of their strength as well as those who know themselves to be less firmly built. But it always supposes weakness. Under the name of weakness it holds its victim with a firm grasp. While he persuades himself that he has conquered, it secretly spreads through every vein, and eventually lays him prostrate. The strongest man becomes powerless when sickness holds him in its grasp. As he is too weak to throw off the weakness, he is too weak to perform the tasks which at other times he performs with perfect ease. The student, the mechanic, the merchant. Visit some sick-bed and your confidence of perpetual strength will depart. Sickness is humiliating because it is weakening. It is often attended with pain. Pain increases weakness. In the grasp of pain the sufferer may be held for days, with no power of resistance, no prospect of relief.
Have you not sometimes thought what a contrast it would be if you could be entirely free from sickness and from liability to it? We may indulge the thought. That will be the condition of the resurrection body in the celestial city. It will be fashioned like to the body of Christ’s glory (1 Cor. xv. 42–44). As Christ on the cross endured the last sickness and pain He was ever to know, so shall all His followers rise, as He did, to a life from which sickness and pain are for ever excluded. Are you one with Him? Then in pain, weariness, languor, sickness, let all impatience be subdued as you remember that it is only a little longer. “Neither shall there be any more pain.”