2.02.06. Drawn and dragged

VI. DRAWN AND DRAGGED.

“ But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.”— James 1:14.

WE are tempted, it seems — “ drawn “ into sin. Who tempts us — who draws us? Not God. He is perfectly holy, and by a necessity of nature does good and not evil. God is our friend — in all the ordinations of his providence and in all the revelations of his grace. God is for us; who is against us?

There is indeed a tempter — an evil spirit unseen, the enemy of man; but let us beware what use we make of the scriptures which reveal the fact. If any one should be disposed to excuse himself on this ground, James, the Lord*s brother, gives him here a clear warning. The evil spirit has no power at all over any of us, except what we concede to him. He “ goeth about seeking whom he may devour:” he cannot devour whom he will. Only they who “ give place “ to the devil — and that place within their own bosoms — can be hurt by his fiery darts. The tempter is elsewhere described as “ the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience “ (Ephesians 2:2). These two branches of the definition explain and qualify each other. As the prince of the power of the air, he could do a soul no harm: it is when he is admitted and welcomed within a man’s own heart that he defiles and ensnares. So then, in the last resort, as we have it in James, *’ every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.” From the striking figures here employed we learn some specific features of the sad process. The two terms are literally, “ drawn out, and hooked.” The first expression does not yet mean drawn by the hook; it means rather drawn to the hook. There are two successive drawings, very diverse in character. In classic Greek, the first term is indifferently applied to both; but in this case the circumstances confine it to one. The first is a drawing towards the hook, and the second is a dragging by the hook. The first drawmg is an invisible spiritual power, the second is a rude and cruel physical constraint. The first is a secret enticement of the will, and the second is an open and outrageous oppression by a superior force, binding the slave and destroying him. The first process, as applied to hunting and fishing, is well known and easily understood. This part of the process is carried on with care and skill and secrecy. No noise is made, and no danger permitted to meet the eye of the victim. Everything is artfully and falsely made to assume the appearance of innocence and safety. With quiet stealthy steps the hunter or the fisher moves about. When necessary, he will lie down on the ground, that he may the better conceal himself. His whole art consists in these two things — exposing an enticing bait, and concealing himself and his snare. By smell or by sight, the fish or the wild animal is “ drawn “ from the safe, deep hidings place in the bush or in the river. The victim, not perceiving the danger, is by its own “ lust “ — its own appetite — drawn to its doom.

It is thus that a man is drawn — but mark it well, by his own lust, his own appetite for pleasure — out of safe paths and into danger. Forewarned, forearmed. Oh, “ watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.” The next part of the process is the act of fixing the barbed hook in the victim’s jaws. The word is “ baited; “that is, enticed by the bait to swallow the hook — the hook that is in the first instance unseen and unsuspected. When the hook is fastened, there is another drawing; but oh, how diverse from the first! The angler does not now hide himself, and tread softly, and speak in a whisper.

There is no more any gentleness. He rudely drags his helpless prey to shore, and takes its life, I have often seen the same process, with the same difference between its commencement and its conclusion, in the tempting and ensnaring of human souls. At first all care is taken not to alarm the conscience. It is a temperate cup, and it contributes to health and friendship.

It will refresh and cheer you, and it will bind you in warmer love to your brother. But when the barb goes into the flesh — when the drug has bitten — when the appetite, insatiable as the grave, has been generated, the poor slave is dragged, without disguise and without ceremony, through the mire. His morbid, fiery appetite is now his governor, and he is dragged about, exposed as a spectacle, “ whithersoever the governor listeth.” The best, the only real preventive against these baited books, is to be satisfied with a sweetness in which there are no sin and no danger. The creature that is hungry greedily takes the bait and is caught. The human soul that is empty — that is not satisfied with the peace of God — is easily drawn into the pleasures of sin. In a certain Highland lake, I have been told, sportsmen at one season of the year expect no sport. There are plenty of fishes, but they will not take the bait. Some vegetable growth on the bottom at that period is abimdant and suitable as food. Being satisfied at home, they will not go away to follow the offer of a stranger. As long as they have enough in their own element, the fisher dangles his bait in vain over the surface of the water. They cannot be drawn to the hook, and so they are not dragged by it.

I have observed, in the process of fishing, that on the part of the victim there are two successive struggles, both violent, both short, and both, for the most part, unavailing. When first it feels the hook, it makes a vigorous effort to shake itself free. But that effort soon ceases, and the fish sails gently after the retreating hook, as if it were going towards the shore with its own consent. What is the reason of its apparent docility after the first struggle?

Ah, poor victim! it soon discovers that to draw against the hook, when the hook is fastened, is very painful; therefore, for the sake of immediate ease, it yields and follows. Then, when it feels the shore, and knows instinctively that its doom has come, there is another desperate struggle, and all is over.

I think I have observed these two struggles, one at the beginning and one at the end, with the period of silent resignation between them, in the experience of an immortal man, my brother. There is an effort to resist the appetite, after the victim discovers that he is in its grasp. But the effort is painful, and is soon abandoned. “ I will seek it yet again,” is the silent resolution of despair. The struggle, with all the agonies of remorse, may be once more renewed when the waters of life grow shallow, and the soul is grazing the eternal shore. The result? Alas! the darkness covers it; we know it not.

After the first drawing, which is soft and unsuspected, the way of transgressors is hard. The fish with the hook in its jaws is the chosen glass in which the Scripture invites us to see it. The snare of intemperance is the one in which the victim is tormented, and made a show of openly, in sight of the world. There are other snares that are secret in the second stage, as in the first: because they are secret, they cannot be freely named among us; but, oh! many strong men are caught and destroyed by these baits.

It is blessed to be free. “ If the Son make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” Hear ye him: “ Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest into your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”