Numbers 24:11

MAN PROPOSES: GOD DISPOSES

‘Therefore now flee thou to thy place: I thought to promote thee unto great honour; but, to, the Lord hath kept thee back from honour.’

Numbers 24:11

Balaam, it need hardly be said, was a very eminent, he was even an extraordinary, man. He lived largely among the wild race of the Midianites, but he had gifts and powers which, so far as we know, were entirely unshared by those among whom he dwelt.

I. (1) He was a careful observer of contemporary events; he was a man of trained political sagacity. (2) He was in possession of a truth which, quite apart from its awful and intrinsic value, gave purpose and meaning to a human life: he believed in one God. (3) He was endowed in a high degree with the gift of supernatural prophecy. Of this gift his closing words to Balak afford one remarkable specimen. His prediction of the star and sceptre that were to arise out of Jacob is not fully satisfied by the conquests of David, of Omri, of John Hyrcanus; it points to the spiritual empire of Jesus Christ. Balaam was in one age what Melchisedek had been in another, and Job in a third—an organ of truth beyond the frontiers of the kingdom of truth.

II. With gifts like these, Balaam was naturally a person of great public consideration.—Balak, the king of Moab, seems to have looked upon him as a very powerful wizard. Balak’s view of Balaam illustrates the way in which in all ages statesmen are apt to look upon religion and its representatives. They see in it only one of the great forces which modify or control human life, and they desire, by whatever means, to enlist it on the side of the policy or the government which they for the moment represent.

III. The real character of Balaam was a very mixed one.—On the one hand, he was a man with a clear idea of duty, based on a certain knowledge of God; on the other, we find that his notion of duty was clearly not what he could discover to be God’s will, but only what God would not allow him to ignore. It was a minimising rule of duty.

IV. There are two or three considerations which the history suggests: (1) The ministry of grace and truth to others may be quite independent of the personal character of the minister. (2) It is possible to know a great deal about truth, to make sacrifices for it, to be kept back from honour out of deference to its requirements, and yet to be at heart disloyal to it. (3) The only true safeguard against such a fate as Balaam’s is the love of God.

Canon Liddon.

Illustration

(1) ‘An embassy waited on Balaam from Balak, the king of the Moabites, with presents and proffered honours, but at first he refused to come. He knew enough of Jehovah’s will for that, and is an example of one having a real prophetic gift, which he misused to his own ruin. He allowed himself to be persuaded, being influenced by those bribes which the New Testament calls “the wages of unrighteousness.” His history is a warning against hesitation and delay in obeying the first dictates of conscience.’

(2) ‘ “The Lord hath kept thee back from honour.” This is the language of earth and earthliness, addressed continually to those who would go Heavenward. “This you might have been—and that you might have done—this you will forfeit, that you will lose—your religion mars your success, blights your prospects, conceals your advantages;—but for this, you might be distinguished, admired, beloved—does God thus deprive His friends of honour?”

This is the language—but oh, believe it not! Especially let those, who have yet not made the trial, believe it not. For it makes the young to falter in their choice, and leads to a dangerous equivocation between the world and God, trying to please both for fear of what may follow on a more determined course: and thus in fact deprives them of the honour and the bliss, above all that earth can offer, which awaits a settled habit of piety and devotion. Of what value are the honours and distinctions of the world, to one who knows them scarcely worth the having? Of what value its admiration and applause, when we have learned to consider them the meed of iniquity rather than of merit? The child of God does in fact not want these things or value them. He does not know them to be honour; but very generally looks upon them as a danger, a temptation, and a snare—meretricious ornaments at best, unworthy to mix with the brighter jewels of his crown. He feels no greater for their possession, and no meaner for the want of them.’