06. The Ark at Jordan; or, God's Presence amid Life's Afflictions

Chapter 6 - The Ark at Jordan; or, God’s Presence amid Life’s Afflictions ON reaching Abel-shittim, which was situated in the plains of Moab, the Israelites found only the Jordan roll­ing between them and the desired land of promise. Beside the river’s bank their camp was for a season pitched; and many, doubtless, were the surmises raised among the people concerning the mode in which their transit was to be effected. The waters were now swollen to their utmost height, for it was barley-harvest, the season when Jordan was wont to overflow its banks. Many an anxious eye must have turned upon the wide and turbid stream as its waters rolled hurriedly onward in the direction of the As­phaltitic lake; and many an eager gaze must have rested on the fertile fields that lay beyond, seemingly as inaccessible as they were inviting. Well might be called to mind the history which had been told concerning the marvelous drying up of the Red Sea; but with it would also be united the recollection, that the famous legis­lator who had been empowered to work so many miracles was now numbered with the dead. At this crisis a message was brought, which served to heighten their wondering ex­pectancy. "The officers went through the host," and announced, that on this occasion there was to be a deviation from the usual order of march. The ark was to take the lead; and though the people were to follow, it was to be at a fixed and reverential distance. They might not start until it was 2000 cubits (or somewhat more than half a mile) in advance of them. A reason was assigned for these re­markable injunctions: "ye have not passed this way heretofore." But what could this mean? had not their whole path been to them a strange and untried road? Joshua’s accents were soon heard in explanation of the mys­terious phrase: "Sanctify yourselves," he said; "for tomorrow the Lord will do wonders among you." The set day having come, the pro­cession was formed; the ark being carried first, and borne this time, not by the inferior Kohathites, but by the priests themselves, the more honored branch of the same Levitical family. Onward they conveyed the sacred symbol, in a straight course, to the water’s edge. No bridge had been thrown across; no ice had consolidated the surface; no passage­way was visible. Naught lay before them save the deep and rushing torrent, in its most im­petuous mood. No wonder-working rod was stretched out; no "strong east wind" was speeding on a miraculous errand.

Yet, with unfaltering obedience, they boldly stepped for­ward into the flowing tide; and at the moment when their feet were dipped in its brim, the stream was suddenly divided. The descending waves stayed their course, and rose up in a heap on the one side; while on the other, the seaward current, rapidly subsiding, left an open channel for the passage of the multitude. In the midst of the river the priests halted, while the people, at the word of command, passed on. When the latter were safe on the further bank, and appropriate memorials of the event. had been prepared---one heap of stones having been taken from the center of the river’s bed, and reared upon the shore, while another had been piled to note the spot where the ark had lingered in the mid-stream---then were the priests allowed to come from out of Jordan; and no sooner had their exit been effected, than the waters again rushed down at the withdrawal of the temporary and invisible barrier which had arrested them beside Zaretan, and not a track was left to mark the passage where the mighty armament had crossed.

We may especially contemplate the faith ex­ercised by the priests. As they were the first to enter, so they were the last to quit the stream. If there had been danger at all, they would have been the longest exposed to it. By no means short was their interval of suspense and of patient waiting. The armed men and the Levites, the aged and the sick, the women and the children, the tents and furni­ture, had to wend, their way across a breadth of nearly four- hundred yards. The multi­tude "hasted," it is true; yet must each mo­ment have seemed tedious to the watchers; and the more so, inasmuch as the mass of waves, restrained by a hand unseen, was threatening at any moment to dash forward, and engulf them in a watery grave. It needed more than a stout heart to keep them firm to their post in such an hour.

They had not the excitement of action to divert their thoughts; they stood passive spectators, able fully to realize the perils which environed them, being left at leisure to calculate the chances of escape, and to weigh them against the apparent probability of death. Their tra­ditionary remembrance of the Red Sea passage, though it testified to God’s protecting care, witnessed also to His retributive justice; for the waters which had there stood as an adamantine wall to let the ransomed tribes pass through, had received a commission to drown Pharaoh and his host. Who knew Eleazar and his kinsmen that they would be delivered from a similar fate? Who knew they that their lives would not be sacrificed, after those of the people had been spared? The warrant for their faith was connected with the ark of the covenant, which they bore upon their shoulders. It was the remembrancer of His presence in whose service they were en­gaged, and at whose command they had thus exposed their lives to seeming danger. Would He at anytime forsake His own? would He forsake them at a time, especially, when they were employed at His bidding, and in obedience to His behest? If not for their own sakes, yet would he not watch over them for the ark’s sake? They were consecrated "to bear the vessels of the Lord;" and though they could not plead their perfect purity as a ground of acceptance, they had with them that mercy-­seat toward which the sacrificial blood of atonement had some eight-and-thirty times been sprinkled, and above which had dwelt that mysterious effulgence wherein a covenant God had pledged himself to be the protector of His forgiven ones.

Without understanding the fullness of its import, they were aware that the ark, with its propitiatory, was in some way a token of that powerful presence which ordi­narily resided between the cherubim. Hence, their conviction of safety arose from confidence in Him to whom the ark belonged---a confidence which was not put to shame, though the im­mediate closing of the water, as they reached the shore, proved that nothing less than super­natural power had availed for their preserva­tion. The same lesson of God’s presence was deeply impressed by this transaction on other minds beside those of the priests. "Hereby," said Joshua, "ye shall know that the living God is among you;" and the Canaanites themselves heard that "the Lord had dried up the waters of Jordan from before the children of Israel." The Psalmist’s interrogation, "What ailed thee, thou Jordan, that thou wast driven back?" re­ceives a sufficient answer when he subjoins, "Tremble, thou earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob!" Truly" the waters saw thee, Oh God, the waters saw thee; they were afraid; the depths also were troubled." "Thou didst walk through the sea, through the heap of great waters, thou wentest forth for the salvation of thy people."

There is, in the history of every Christian soul, many an incident like this. The believer is often led into the midst of dangers; but there is no need for him to fear. He is not alone; the hand which has guided will also guard him. The covenant holds good in the darkest as well as in the brightest hour. The presence of God is not necessarily withdrawn when the providence of God frowns. Nay, rather, if there are any over whom He watches more intently than others, it is over His chastened ones: and if there is any season when He is willing to draw especially near to the soul, it is in the day of adversity. It is hard to believe this, and therefore hard to realize it. If we trusted more in the abiding­ness of God’s presence, we should experience more of its consoling efficacy. When we let unbelief perturb our hearts, we look away from Him who is at our side; we turn a bewildered gaze upon the tempestuous elements around us, and our fear is heightened to despair; but when we open the ear of faith, we hear the blessed assurance, "Fear not, for I have re­deemed thee; I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine; when thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." The menacing waves may rage around us, but they shall not injure, they shall not touch us. We have to pass through them, but we shall pass through in safety: they shall not come in unto our soul. We have with us One whom winds and storms obey. Faith sees Him going first, and it does not hesitate to follow. Faith sees Him take His stand in the open pathway, and is encouraged to advance. Faith beholds Him linger there, and forbears to rush unbidden to the further bank. Not one moment does our heavenly Father leave us to brave the peril, untended by His care. If we fail to enjoy the sense of His support, it is because we have let go of Him, not because He has distanced Himself from us. Not once only, but again and again shall we have to pass through the deep places of earthly trouble and sorrow. Yet again and again shall we find His promise true. He will never leave, no, never forsake them that are His. Every fresh proof of His nearness to sustain and to soothe should strengthen our hearts for the encountering of future difficulties. We can believe, that had the same priests borne the ark a second time through Jordan, within sight of the same multitude, both priests and people would have felt less hesitancy, and a more buoyant confidence, than at a time when they had only received oral testimony of God’s power to control the waves. Thus, from year to year may we put on record renewed proofs of Divine aid afforded us in the hour of our perplexity or desolation, till at length the last of earth’s trials shall alone await us, and we shall have but to tread the dark valley, with its cold repellent stream. Then, indeed, may it be truly said to us, "Ye have not passed this way heretofore."

We have seen other Christians traversing the flood; and, as far as we could mark their progress, we perceived that the waters were "divided hither and thither," that they might pass over on dry ground. But we could not behold their landing on the further side, nor their glorious admission into the heavenly inheritance. Nay, if we could have seen it, we might not have based our hopes on that as the guarantee of our own safety in follow­ing them. Many who tread the intervening gulf that bars us from immortality, are unable to gain a footing, and are swept away into the dark abyss of everlasting perdition. Wherein must our safety, wherein our confidence be found? Only in the presence of our Lord and Master. Assured of that, we may go forward without a single distressful apprehension: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

"When I tread the verge of Jordan, Bid my anxious fears subside;

Death of death, and hell’s destruction, Land me safe on Canaan’s side;

Songs of praises I will ever give to thee."

Happy privilege of the Christian, to have the Lord at his right hand in the gloomy hours of life, and the gloomier hour of death! Happy privilege of the Christian alone! The promise, "I will be with thee," is limited to those of whom the Almighty can say, "Thou art mine." To others, He will declare, "I never knew you;" He will leave them to themselves; they will be alone in the troubled day of affliction, alone in the fearful approach of death. No heavenly eye of love will guard them; no heavenly hand of mercy support them; no heavenly voice of authority check the inroad of the dashing billows; no sunbeam of Divine favor gladden their hearts, and irradiate their footpath. Like the Egyptian army, they will essay to ford the strait; and in so doing they will find their chariot wheels drive heavily, until at length sudden ruin shall come upon them, and that without remedy. It is the chosen people only who pass on with security: it is the presence of God that alone enables them to pass on with composure. Life’s sorrows must cross our pathway; and we may not quit our appointed track to avoid them. Be it ours to covet, then, the sole blessing which can carry us triumphantly through; ours to offer the earnest entreaty, "Be not far from me, for trouble is near;" and ours to exclaim, with joyous trustfulness, "I have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved."