043. Prayer Of Jabez.
Prayer Of Jabez.
“If we had to fix upon a portion of Scripture,” says a writer, “which might be removed from our Bible, without being much missed, we should probably select the first nine chapters of the first Book of Chronicles. They seem, at first sight, a mere record of names, a catalogue of genealogies, over which the eye glances rapidly; and we are inclined, like the traveler whose journey lies through the sands of the desert, to hasten on, as if there were nothing worthy of examination. Yet, amidst those sands, there is, now and then, a verdant spot; some oasis where we may pause and refresh ourselves; and, perhaps, some spring at which we may slake our thirst.” In like manner, interspersed with the names which crowd these nine chapters, there occur, here and there, brief, but pungent notices of persons and things, which are both interesting and instructive. The passage before us is a remarkable case in point. Here is a chapter made up of genealogies and names. Let me skip it, might be the feeling of the reader; what good can I get from learning that Penuel was the father of Gedor, and Ezer the father Hushah? But, if he were to skip it, he would miss one of the most beautiful and interesting passages in the Bible; that which is now the subject of our contemplations.
We do not know the particular reasons which influenced the mother of Jabez to call him by that name, a name which means “Sorrowful.” Perhaps she brought forth this son with more than common anguish; perhaps the time of his birth was the time of her widowhood; so that the child came, and found no father to welcome him. But whatever may have been the cause, whether personal anguish, domestic affliction, or public calamity, we may consider her as having bent in bitterness over her new-born child, having only tears to give him, as his welcome to the world.
And, yet, child of sorrow that he was, he proved “more honorable than his brethren.” They, too, may have been excellent, and perhaps as much is implied; but Jabez took the lead, and whether or not the youngest in years, surpassed every other in piety and renown. Oh, if the mother lived to see the manhood, the integrity, the piety of this son, she must have regretted, and, perhaps, reproached herself for giving him, in some hour of despondency, the gloomy and ominous name which he bore. But let us turn to the prayer of Jabez. “And what did he pray for? For great things; great, if you suppose him to have spoken only as an heir of the temporal Canaan; greater, if you ascribe to him acquaintance with the mercies of redemption. ‘Oh that thou wouldest bless me indeed!’ Lay the emphasis on that word, ‘indeed.’ Many things pass for blessings which are not; to as many more we deny, though we ought to give the character. There is a blessing in appearance, which is not also a blessing in reality; and, conversely, the reality may exist where the appearance is wanting. The man in prosperity appears to have, the man in adversity to be without, a blessing; yet how often does
God bless by withholding and withdrawing! more frequently, it may be, than by giving and continuing. Therefore, ‘Oh that thou wouldest bless me indeed.’ Let me not have what looks like blessing, and, perhaps, is not; but what is blessing, however unlike it may appear. Let it come under any form— disappointment, tribulation, persecution—only ‘bless me indeed;’ bless me, though it be with the rod. I will not prescribe the nature of the dealing; deal with me as thou wilt, with the blow or with the balm, only ‘bless me indeed! “And Jabez goes on. ‘That thou wouldest enlarge my coast? Was it territory merely then; a large landed estate, that Jabez desires? We trust he had nobler wishes. Parts of the land were still under the dominion of the Canaanitish natives and their idolatry; and, consequently, a dark, deep, and soul-destroying superstition reigned. Jabez desired possession of a territory thus benighted, that he might introduce into it the worship of the true God.”
Christian! you may use the same prayer. You may ask that your coast may be enlarged. What Christian has yet taken possession of one half the territory assigned him by God? We speak of a present inheritance; “a land flowing with milk and honey,” which is ours in virtue of our adoption into the family of God, but much of which we allow to remain unpossessed, through deficiency in diligence, in faith. Our privileges, as Christians; how are they undervalued, and therefore neglected? “What districts of unpossessed territory are there in the Bible! how much of that blessed book has been, comparatively, unexamined by us! We have our favorite parts, and give only an occasional and cursory notice of the rest. How little practical use do we make of God’s promises! How slow in our progress in that humbleness of mind, that strength of faith, and that holiness of life, which are as much a present reward as an evidence of fitness for the society of heaven! What need then for the prayer, ‘Oh that thou wouldest enlarge my coast!’ I would not be circumscribed in spiritual things. I would not live always within these narrow bounds. There are bright and glorious tracts beyond. I would know more of God, more of Christ, more of myself. I cannot be content to remain as I am whilst there is so much to do, so much to learn, so much to enjoy. Oh, for an enlargement of coast, that I may have a broader domain of Christian privilege, more eminences from which to catch glimpses of the fair, rich land hereafter to be reached, and a wider sphere in which to glorify God, by devoting myself to his service. It is a righteous covetousness this, for an enlargement of coast; for he has done little, we might almost say nothing, in religion, who can be content with what he has done. It is a holy ambition, this, which pants for an ampler territory. But are we only to pray? are we not also to struggle for the enlargement of our coast? Indeed, we are: observe how Jabez proceeds. ‘And that thine hand might be with me.’ He represents himself as arming for the enlargement of his coast, but as knowing, all the while, that the battle is the Lord’s.’ Be it thus with ourselves; we will pray, that during the coming year, our coast may be enlarged. Oh, for more of those deep havens where the soul may anchor in still waters of comfort! Oh, for a longer stretch of those sunny shores, whereon the tree of life grows, and where angel visitants seem often to alight! But, in order to this enlargement, let us give ourselves to closer study of the word, to a more diligent use of the ordinances of the gospel, and to a harder struggle with the flesh. Only let all be done with the practical consciousness that, ‘except the Lord build the house, their labor is lost that build it.’ This will be to arm ourselves like Jabez for the war; but, like Jabez, to expect success only so far as God’s hand shall be with us.”
There is one more petition in the prayer of him, who, named with a dark and unauspicious name, yet grew to be more “honorable than his brethren”—“that thou wouldest keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me.” It is not an entreaty for actual exemption from evil; it were no pious wish to have no evil whatsoever in our portion: “Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?” Jabez prayed not for the being kept from evil, but kept from the being grieved by evil. And there is a vast difference between the being visited by evil, and grieved by evil. He is grieved by evil, who does not receive it meekly and submissively, as the chastisement of his heavenly Father. He is grieved by evil, whom evil injures, in place of benefits; which latter is always God’s purpose in its permission or appointment. He is grieved by evil, whom it drives into sin, and to whom, therefore, it furnishes cause of bitter repentance.
You see, then, that Jabez showed great spiritual discernment in casting his prayer into this particular form. We, too, should pray, not absolutely that God would keep us from evil, but that he would so keep it from us, or us from it, that it may not grieve us (Melville’s Sermons).