Proverbs 14:32

CRITICAL NOTES.—

Proverbs 14:32. Driven forth, or “thrust lower” (Miller). Delitzsch translates, “When misfortune befals him, the wicked is overthrown, but the righteous hath hope even in his death.”

MAIN HOMILETICS OF Proverbs 14:32

THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE WICKED

I. The wicked man dies unwillingly. He is “driven away.” Our first parents,—conscious of the severance of a moral bond between them and God—knowing that they had fallen from their original position, in which they would have gone fearlessly and joyfully to any part of God’s universe—ignorant of the unknown and dark future that lay before them—left their first home unwillingly. They had to be “driven out” of Eden (Genesis 3:24). A man who is conscious of a moral distance between himself and God, seldom quits this world willingly. An undefined dread, perhaps, but still a dread, of the unknown state beyond death possesses him, and he is made subject to the laws of death “unwillingly.” As Adam had to be driven out of Eden, so he quits his present abode, not from choice, but from necessity. His unwillingness to go arises from his condition of heart—from his moral standing. He “is driven away in his wickedness.” Adam’s consciousness of guilt made him unwilling to quit his abode in Eden. The same consciousness makes men fear to die. “The sting of death is sin” (1 Corinthians 15:56). The man whose sins are unpardoned is conscious that he has much to fear in the unknown future. His spirit witnesses to the truth of the Divine Word, “After death, the judgment” (Hebrews 9:27).

II. But to the righteous man the hour of death is a time of hope. He does not die in his sin. A separation has taken place between him and sin. He is conscious of having been delivered both from its guilt and its dominion. The severance that has already been accomplished has wrought a greater change than that which death can work. The change of relationship to God and of character which he has already experienced, has made a mere change of place a matter of small moment in itself, and the change from this world to the heavenly city an occasion of hope and rejoicing. The angel of death is no officer of justice to bring him before his judge, but a messenger to guide him to his Father’s home. The objects of his hope have been considered in Homiletics on chap. Proverbs 10:24; Proverbs 10:28; pages 176 and 181.

OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS

The righteous dies by his own consent. It is a glad surrender, not a forcible separation (Psalms 31:5). The tabernacle is not rent, or torn away, but “put off” (2 Peter 1:14).—Bridges.

“The wicked is thrust lower by his evil” (see Critical Notes). “Death,” that is, the worst form of evil. Observe the crescendo. “Evil,” which is supposed to be a discipline, “thrusts down the wicked;” death, the very grimmest of the list, becomes to the righteous a glorious refuge. “Thrust lower,” this is an intensive expression. If trouble thrusts a man lower, how much more must joy and intoxicating wealth. The idea is—all hurts him. Even discipline hurts the lost.—Miller.

Oh, the different departures of the reprobate and the Christian! The one knows he changeth for the better; the other mistrusts, for the worse; to the one death is a gulf of sorrow, to the other a port of liberty; he, because he is stripped for a scourging; this, because he lays aside his clothes, after his toil, to go to bed.… All our loathness to depart, and fears in departing, arise from our own unsettledness; we have not made sure to ourselves a dwelling in these glorious heavens; many mansions there be (John 14:2), we have not provided ourselves one.—T. Adams.

A Christian should be a volunteer in death. Many of the martyrs were as willing to die as to dine; went to the fire as cheerful as to a feast, and courted its pale and ghastly countenance as if it had been a beautiful bride.… Cyprian said Amen to his own sentence of death. Bradford, being told by his keeper’s wife that his chain was a-buying, and he was to die the next day, pulled off his hat and thanked God for it.… Ann Askew subscribed her confession in Newgate thus, “Written by me, Ann Askew, that neither wisheth for death nor feareth his might, and as merry as one that is bound towards heaven.” Indeed it is said of a wicked man that his soul is required of him, and that God takes away his soul (Luke 12:20; Job 27:10); but of a godly man that he giveth up the Ghost, and he cometh to his grave (Genesis 25:8; Job 4:21).… Socrates, and some of the wiser heathen, comforted themselves against the fear of death with this weak cordial, that it is common to men, the way of all the earth. Hence it was, when the Athenians condemned Socrates to die, he received the sentence with an undaunted spirit, and told them that they did nothing but what nature had before ordained for him. But the Christian hath a greater ground for a holy resolution, and a stronger cordial against the fears of death, even the hope of eternal life; and surely, if he that exceeds others in his cordials be excelled by them in courage, he disgraceth his physician.… It is no marvel that they who lived wickedly should die unwillingly, being “driven away in their wickedness” as a beast that is driven out of his den to the slaughter, or as a debtor driven by the officers out of his house, where he lay warm and was surrounded by all sorts of comfort, to a nasty, loathsome prison.—Swinnock.

It is storied of Godfrey, Duke of Bouillon, that when, in his expedition to the Holy Land, he came within view of Jerusalem, his army, seeing the high turrets, goodly buildings, and fair fronts, being even transported with the joyfulness of such a sight, gave a mighty shout that the earth was verily thought to ring with the noise thereof. Such is the rejoicing of a godly man in death, when he doth not see the turrets and towers of an earthly, but the spiritual building of a heavenly Jerusalem, and his soul ready to take possession of them. How doth he delight in his dissolution, when he sees grace changing into glory, hope into fruition, faith into vision, and love into perfect comprehension.—Spencer’s “Things New and Old.”

If this be true, it is a demonstration on the side of religion, and that upon three accounts.

(1) Because the principles of religion, and the practice of them in a virtuous life, when they come to the last and utmost trial, do hold out. The belief of a God, the persuasion of our own immortality, and of the eternal recompense of another world—that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners—is commonly more strong and vigorous in the minds of good men when they come to die; they have then a more clear apprehension and firm persuasion of the truth and reality of these things, than ever they had at any time of their lives, and find more peace and joy in the belief of them.… And the principles of infidelity and vice are most apt to shrink and give back at such a time.

(2) The principles of religion minister comfort to us in the most needful and desirable time. If it be true of every day of our lives, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, much more of the day of death. It is surely enough to have that one enemy to encounter, at which nature startles even when the sting is taken away.… If there were nothing beyond this life, it were worth while to provide for a quiet death. There is no man that calculates things wisely that would, for all the pleasures of sin, forfeit the peace and comfort of a righteous soul, going out of the world full of the hopes of a blessed immortality.

(3) When men are commonly most serious and impartial, and their declarations are thought to be of the greatest weight, they give this testimony to religion and virtue, and against impiety and vice. Even Lucretius says, “Men’s words then come from the bottom of their heart, the mask is taken off, and things then appear to them as indeed they are.” In these circumstances men generally declaim most vehemently against their sins and vices, and declare on the side of piety and virtue. Surely this is a great testimony on the side of religion, because it is the testimony not only of its friends, but of those who have been its greatest enemies.—Tillotson.

A clear testimony to a future state of rewards and punishments.—

Wordsworth.

Though there was no revelation of immortality and resurrection then, still the pious in death put their confidence in Jahve, the God of life and of salvation—for in Jahve there was for ancient Israel the beginning, middle, and end of the work of salvation—and believing that they were going home to Him, committing their spirit into His hands (Psalms 31:6), they fell asleep, though without any explicit knowledge, yet not without the hope of eternal life. Job also knew that (Proverbs 27:8) between the death of those estranged from God and of those who feared God there was not only an external, but a deep essential distinction; and now the wise man opens up a glimpse into the eternity heavenwards (chap. Proverbs 15:24), and has formed (chap. Proverbs 12:28) (see Critical Notes) the expressive and distinctive word for immortality, which breaks like a ray from the morning sun through the night of the Sheol.—Delitzsch.

We are not able to form a right conception of what it is to be and to abide in wickedness. Because it is so near us, we do not know it. If it were a body standing before us, we could examine its proportions and describe its appearance; but because it is a spirit transfused through us, we remain ignorant of its character and power.… A ship is lying in a placid river when winter comes, and is gradually frozen in. The process was gentle, and almost imperceptible. There was no commotion and no crash. The ice crept round, and closed in upon the ship without any noisy note of warning.… Her own element closed and held her.… The ship is not shaken. No creaking is heard—no strain is felt. She feels firm and easy. Even when the pines of the neighbouring forest are bending to the blast, she sits unmoved in her solid bed. That bed she has made for herself, and it therefore fits her. This is very like the wicked in his iniquity, and before he is driven away.… He stands steady in his element, and no ripple disturbs its surface. When the ice of the river goes away, the embedded ship goes with it. It is a dreadful departure. The water swells beneath; the ice holds by the crooked banks awhile; but, after a period of suspense, the flood prevails, and the trembling, rending mass gives way. Reeling icebergs and foaming yellow waves tumble downwards in tumultuous heaps, and the ship is swept away like a feather on a flood. If we had a sense for perceiving spiritual things, the most heart-rending sight in the world would be a sinner set fast in his element, and the flood of wrath secretly swelling from beneath.… But he who has been begotten again to a living hope has it at the time when humanity needs it most. A friend in need is a friend indeed. Stars are a grateful mitigation of the darkness; but we do not want them by day. Hope, always lovely, is then sweetest when it beams from heaven through the gloom that gathers round the grave.… The ship has set sail, and kept on her course many days and nights, with no other incidents than those that are common to all. Suddenly land appears; but what the character of the coast may be the voyagers cannot discern through the tumult. The first effect of a near approach of land is a very great commotion on the water. It is one of the coral islands of the South Pacific, encircled by a ring of fearful breakers at some little distance from the shore. Forward the ship must go. The waves are higher and angrier than any they have seen in the open sea. Partly through them, partly over them, they are borne at a bound; strained, and giddy, and almost senseless, they find themselves within that sentinel ridge of crested waves that guard the shore, and the portion of sea that still lies before them is calm and clear like glass. It seems a lake of Paradise, and not an earthly thing at all.… Across the belt of sea the ship glides gently,—and gently soon touches that lovely shore. It is thus that I have seen a true pilgrim thrown into a great tumult when the shore of eternity suddenly appeared before him. A great fear tossed him for some days; but when that barrier was passed, he experienced a peace, deeper, stiller, sweeter than ever he knew before. A little space of life’s voyage remained after the fear of death had sunk into a calm, and before the immortal felt the solid of eternal rest. On life’s sea as yet was the spirit lying, but the shaking had passed; and when at last the spirit passed from a peaceful sea to a peaceful land, the change seemed slight.—Arnot.

This text looks like the cloud between the Israelites and Egyptians; having a dark side toward the latter, and a bright side toward the former. It represents death, like Pharaoh’s jailor, bringing the chief butler and the chief baker out of prison; the one to be restored to his office, the other to be led to execution. The wicked are driven from this world to the other—from the society of saints on earth into that of the lost in hell; out of time into eternity; out of their specious pretences to piety; away from all means of grace.… The following circumstances make the godly in their death happy and hopeful.

1. They have a trusty good Friend before them in the other world. Jesus Christ, their best friend, is Lord of the land to which death carries them. When Joseph sent for his father to come down to Egypt, and Jacob “saw the wagons Joseph had sent to carry him, the spirit of Jacob revived” (Genesis 45:27). He resolved to undertake the journey. I think when the Lord calls a godly man out of the world, He sends him such good tidings, and such a kind invitation to the other world, that his spirit must revive when he sees the wagon of death sent to carry him thither.

2. They shall have a safe passage to another world. They have the Lord of the land’s safe conduct, His pass sealed with His own blood … It is safe riding in Christ’s chariot.

3. They shall have a joyful entrance into the other world … Is the bird in worse case, when at liberty, than when confined in a cage? Death comes to the godly man, as Haman came to Mordecai, with the royal apparel and the horse.—Boston.