The chosen vessel wishes Satan taken | frequent for a multitude to conspire in evil. off, and hears only, "My grace is sufficient Generality of assent is no warrant for any for thee." We may not evermore measure act. Common error carries away many, favours by condescent. These devils doubt- who inquire not into the reason of aught, less receive more punishment for that harm- but the practice. The way to hell is a ful act wherein they are heard. If we ask beaten road, through the many feet that what is either unfit to receive, or unlawful tread it. When vice grows into fashion, to beg, it is a great favour of our God to be singularity is a virtue. denied. Those spirits, which would go into the swine by permission, go out of the man by command; they had staid long, and are ejected suddenly. The immediate works of God are perfect in an instant, and do not require the aid of time for their maturation. No sooner are they cast out of the man, than they are in the swine. They will lose no time, but pass without intermission from one mischief to another. If they hold it a pain not to be doing evil, why is it not our delight to be ever doing good? The impetuousness was no less than the speed: "The herd was carried with violence from a steep place down into the lake, and was choked." It is no small force that could do this: but if the swine had been so many mountains, these spirits, upon God's permission, had thus transported them. How easily can they carry those souls, which are under their power, to destruction? Unclean beasts, that wallow in the mire of sensuality; brutish drunkards, transforming them selves by excess; even they are the swine whom the Legion carries headlong to the pit of perdition. The wicked spirits have their wish: the swine are choked in the waves. What ease is this to them? Good God! that there should be any creature that seeks contentment in destroying, in tormenting, the good creatures of his Maker! This is the diet of hell. Those fiends feed upon spite towards man, so much more as he doth more resemble his Creator; towards all other living substances, so much more as they may be more useful to man. The swine ran down violently what marvel is it if their keepers fled? That miraculous work, which should have drawn them to Christ, drives them from him. They run with the news; the country comes in with the clamour: "The whole multitude of the country about besought him to depart." The multitude is a beast of many heads; every head hath a several mouth, and every mouth a several tongue, and every tongue a several accent; every head hath a several brain, and every brain thoughts of their own; so as it is hard to find a multitude without some division; at least, seldom ever hath a good motion found a perfect accordance: it is not so in There was not a Gadarene found that either dehorted his fellows, or opposed the motion. It is a sign of a people given up to judgment, when no man makes head against projects of evil. Alas! what can one strong man do against a whole throng of wickedness? Yet this good comes of an unprevailing resistance, that God forbears to plague, where he finds but a sprinkling of faith. Happy are they, who, like unto the celestial bodies (which being carried about with the sway of the highest sphere, yet creep on their own ways), keep on the courses of their own holiness, against the swing of common corruptions; they shall both deliver their own souls, and help to withhold judgment from others. The Gadarenes sue to Christ for his departure. It is too much favour to attribute this to their modesty, as if they held themselves unworthy of so divine a guest. Why then did they fall upon this suit in a time of their loss? why did they not tax themselves, and intimate a secret desire of that which they durst not beg? It is too much rigour to attribute it to the love of their hogs, and anger at their loss; then they had not entreated, but expelled him. It was their fear that moved this rash suit; a servile fear of danger to their persons, to their goods; lest he that could so absolutely command the devils, should have set these tormentors upon them; lest their other demoniacs should be dispossessed with like loss. I cannot blame these Gadarenes, that they feared. This power was worthy of trembling at; their fear was unjust: they should have argued, This man hath power over men, beasts, devils: it is good having him to our friend; his presence is our safety and protection. Now they contrarily misinfer, Thus powerful is he: it is good he were further off. What miserable and pernicious misconstructions do men make of God, of divine attributes and actions! God is omnipotent, able to take infinite vengeance of sin; O that he were not! he is provident, I may be careless; he is merciful, I may sin; he is holy, let him depart from me, for I am a sinful man. How witty sophisters are natural men, to deceive their own souls, to rob themselves of a God! O Saviour, how worthy are they to want thee, that wish to be rid of thee! Thou hast just cause to be weary of us, even while we sue to hold thee: but when once our wretched unthankfulness grows weary of thee, who can pity us to be punished with thy departure? who can say it is other than righteous, that thou shouldest retort one day upon us, "Depart from me, ye wicked?" BOOK IV. CONTEMPLATION I. -THE FAITHFUL CANAANITE. Ir was our Saviour's trade to do good; therefore he came down from heaven to earth, therefore he changed one station of earth for another. Nothing more commends goodness than generality and diffusion; whereas, reservedness and close-handed re. straint blemishes the glory of it. The sun stands not still in one point of heaven, but walks his daily round, that all the inferior world may share of his influences both in heat and light. Thy bounty, O Saviour, did not affect the praise of fixedness, but motion: one while I find thee at Jerusalem, then at Capernaum, soon after in the utmost verge of Galilee; never but doing good. But as the sun, though he daily compass the world, yet never walks from under his line, never goes beyond the turning points of the longest and shortest day; so neither didst thou, O Saviour, pass the bounds of thine own peculiar people. Thou wouldst move, but not wildly; not out of thine own sphere, wherein thy glorified estate exceeds thine humbled, as far as heaven is above earth. Now thou art lift up, thou drawest all men unto thee: there are now no lists, no limits of thy gracious visitations; but as the whole earth is equidistant from heaven, so all the motions of the world lie equally open to thy bounty. Neither yet did thou want outward occasions of thy removal. Perhaps the very importunity of the Scribes and Pharisees, in obtruding their traditions, drove thee thence; perhaps their unjust offence at thy doctrine. There is no readier way to lose Christ, than to clog him with human ordinances, than to spurn at his heavenly instructions. He doth not always subduce his spirit with his visible presence; but his very outward withdrawing is worthy of our sighs, worthy of our tears. Many a one may say, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my soul had not died." Thou art now with us, O Saviour, thou art with us in a free and plentiful fashion: how long, thou knowest; we know our deservings, and fear. O teach us how happy we are in such a guest, and give us grace to keep thee! Hadst thou walked within the Phnician borders, we could have told how to have made glad constructions of thy mercy in turning to the Gentiles: thou, that couldst touch the lepers without uncleanness, couldst not be defiled with aliens; but we know the partition-wall was not yet broken down, and that thou who didst charge thy disciples not to walk into the way of the Gentiles, wouldst not trangress thine own rule. Once we are sure thou camest to the utmost point of the bounds of Galilee; as not ever confined to the heart of Jewry, thou wouldst sometimes bless the outer skirts with thy presence. No angle is too obscure for the gospel: "The land of Zabulun, and the land of Naphthali, by the way of the sea beyond Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles, the people which sat in darkness, saw great light." The sun is not scornful, but looks with the same face upon every plot of earth: not only the stately palaces and pleasant gardens are visited by his beams, but mean cottages, but neglected bogs and moors. God's word is, like himself, no excepter of persons; the wild Kern, the rude Scythian, the savage Indian, are alike to it. The mercy of God will be sure to find out those that belong to his election in the most secret corners of the world, likeas his judgments will fetch his enemies from under the hills and rocks. The good Shepherd walks the wilderness to seek one sheep strayed from many. If there be but one SyroPhoenician soul to be gained to the church, Christ goes to the coasts of Tyre and Sidon to fetch her. Why are we weary to do good, when our Saviour underwent this perpetual toil in healing bodies and winning souls? There is no life happy, but that which is spent in a continual drudging for edification. It is long since we heard of the name or nation of Canaanites: all the country was once so styled; that people are now forgotten; yet, because this woman was of the blood of those Phoenicians, which were anciently ejected out of Canaan, that title is revived to her. God keeps account of pedigrees, after our oblivion, that he may magnify his mercies by continuing them to thousands of the generations of the just, and by renewing favours upon the unjust. No nation carried such brands and scars of a curse, as Canaan. To the shame of those careless Jews, even a faithful Canaanite is a suppliant to Christ, while they neglect so great salvation. She doth not speak, but cry: need and desire have raised her voice to an importunate clamour. The God of mercy is light of hearing, yet he loves a loud and vehement solicitation; not to make himself inclinable to grant, but to make us capable to receive blessings. They are words and not prayers, which fall from careless lips. If we felt our want, or wanted not desire, we could speak to God in no tune but cries. If we would prevail with God, we must wrestle; and, if we would wrestle happily with God, we must wrestle first with our own dulness: nothing but cries can pierce heaven. Neither doth her vehemence so much argue her faith, as doth her compellation, "O Lord, thou Son of David." What proselyte, what disciple, could have said more? O blessed SyroPhoenician, who taught thee this abstract of divinity? What can we Christians confess more than the deity and the humanity, the -Messiahship of our glorious Saviour? his deity as Lord, his humanity as a Son, his Messiahship as the Son of David? Of all the famous progenitors of Christ, two are singled out by an eminence, David and Abraham, a king, a patriarch; and though the patriarch was first in time, yet the king is first in place; not so much for the dignity of the person, as the excellence of the promise, which, as it was both later and fresher in memory, so more honourable. To Abraham was promised multitude and blessing of seed, to David perpetuity of dominion. So as, when God promiseth not to destroy his people, it is for Abraham's sake; when not to extinguish the kingdom, it is for David's sake. Had she said, "The Son of Abraham," she had not come home to this acknowledgment. Abraham is the father of the faithful, David of the kings of Judah and Israel; there are many faithful, there is but one king; so as in this title she doth proclaim him the perpetual king of his church, the rod or flower which should come from the root of Jesse, the true and only Saviour of the world. Whoso would come unto Christ to purpose, must come in the right style; apprehending a true God, a true man, a true God and man: any of these severed from other, makes Christ an idol, and our prayers sin. Being thus acknowledged, what suit is so fit for him as mercy?"Have mercy on me." It was her daughter that was tormented, yet she says, "Have mercy on me." Perhaps her possessed child was senseless of her misery; the parent feels both her sorrow and her own. As she was a good woman, so a good mother. Grace and good nature have taught her to appropriate the afflictions of this divided part of her own flesh. It is not in the power of another skin to sever the interest of our own loins or womb. We find some fowls that burn themselves, while they endeavour to blow out the fire from their young; and even serpents can receive their brood into their mouth, to shield them from danger. No creature is so unnatural, as the reasonable that hath put off affection. On me, therefore, in mine; “For my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil." It was this that sent her to Christ; it was this that must incline Christ to her. I doubt whether she had inquired after Christ, if she had not been vexed with her daughter's spirit. Our afflictions are as Benhadad's best counsellors, that sent him with a cord about his neck to the merciful king of Israel. These are the files and whetstones that set an edge on our devotions, without which they grow dull and ineffectual; neither are they stronger motives to our suit than to Christ's mercy. We cannot have a better spokesman unto God than our own misery; that alone sues, and pleads, and importunes for us. This, which sets off men, whose compassion is finite, attracts God to us. Who can plead discouragements in his access to the throne of grace, when our wants are our forcible advocates? All our worthiness is in a capable misery. All Israel could not example the faith of this Canaanite; yet she was thus tormented in her daughter. It is not the truth or strength of our faith that can secure us from the outward and bodily vexations of Satan, against the inward and spiritual, that can and will prevail: it is no more antidote against the other, than against fevers and dropsies. How should it, when as it may fall out, that these sufferings may be profitable? and why should we expect that the love of our God shall yield to forelay any benefit to the soul? He is an ill patient that cannot distinguish betwixt an affliction, and the evil of affliction. When the messenger of Satan buffets us, it is enough that God hath said, "My grace is sufficient for thee." find here a faithful suitor met with a gracious Saviour, and yet he answered her not a word. If we be poor in spirit, God is rich in mercy: he cannot send us away empty, yet he will not always let us feel his condescent, crossing us in our will, that he may advance our benefit. petition? and, behold, he answered her not a word. O holy Saviour! we have oft found cause to wonder at thy words, never till now at thy silence. A miserable suppliant cries and sues, while the God of mercies is speechless. He that comforts the afflicted, adds affliction to the comfortless by a willing disrespect. What shall we say then? Is the fountain of mercy dried up? O Saviour, couldst thou but hear! she did not murmur, nor whisper, but cry out: couldst thou but pity, but regard her, that was as good as she was miserable! If thy ears were open, could thy bowels be shut? Certainly it was thou that didst put it into the heart, into the mouth of this woman to ask, and to ask thus of thyself. She could never have said, "O Lord, thou Son of David," but from thee, but by thee. "None calleth Jesus the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost." Much more, therefore, didst thou hear the words of thine own making; and well wert thou pleased to hear what thou thoughtst good to forbear to answer. It was thine rest for the relief of the distressed. We are own grace that sealed up thy lips. Whether for the trial of her patience and perseverance, for silence carried a semblance of neglect, and a willing neglect lays strong siege to the best fort of the soul; even calm tempers, when they have been stirred, have bewrayed impetuousness of passion if there be any dregs in the bottom of the glass, when the water is shaken, they will be soon seen. Or whether for the more sharpening of her desires, and raising of her zealous importunity: our holy longings are increased with delays; it whets our appetite to be held fasting. Or whether for the more sweetening of the blessing, by the difficulty or stay of obtaining: the benefit that comes with ease is easily contemned; long and eager pursuits endear any favour. Or whether for the engaging of his disciples in so charitable a suit. Or whether for the wise avoidance of exception from the captious Jews. Or, lastly, for the drawing on of an holy and imitable pattern of faithful perseverance; and to teach us not to measure God's hearing of our suit by his present answer, or his present answer by our own sense. While our weakness expects thy words, thy wisdom resolves upon thy silence. Never wert thou better pleased to hear the acclamation of angels, than to hear this woman say, " O Lord, thou son of David;" yet silence is thy answer. When we have made our prayers, it is a happy thing to hear the report of them back from heaven: but if we always do not so, it is not for us to be dejected, and to accuse either our infidelity or thy neglect, since we It was no small fruit of Christ's silence, that the disciples were hereupon moved to pray for her; not for a mere dismission (it had been no favour to have required this, but a punishment; for if to be held in suspense be miserable, to be sent away with a repulse is more), but for a merciful grant. They saw much passion in the woman; much cause of passion: they saw great discouragement on Christ's part; great constancy on hers. Upon all these they feel her misery, and become suitors for her, unrequested. It is our duty, in case of necessity, to intercede for each other; and by how much more familiar we are with Christ, so much more to improve our inte bidden to say, Our Father, not mine; yea, being members of one body, we pray for ourselves in others. If the foot be pricked, the back bends, the head bows down, the eyes look, the hands stir, the tongue calls for aid; the whole man is in pain, and labours for redress. He cannot pray or be heard for himself, that is no man's friend but his own. No prayer without faith, no faith without charity, no charity without mutual intercession. That which urged them to speak for her, is urged to Christ by them for her obtaining: "She cries after us." Prayer is as an arrow; if it be drawn up but a little, it goes not far; but if it be pulled up to the head, flies strongly, and pierces deep: if it be but dribbled forth of careless lips, it falls down at our foot; the strength of our ejaculation sends it up into heaven, and fetches down a blessing. The child hath escaped many a stripe by his loud crying; and the very unjust judge cannot endure the widow's clamour. Heartless motions do but teach us to deny; fervent suits offer violence, both to earth and heaven. Christ would not answer the woman, but doth answer the disciples. Those that have a familiarity with God shall receive answers, when strangers shall stand out. Yea, even of domestics, some are more entire. He that lay in Jesus' bosom could receive that intelligence which was concealed from the rest. But who can tell whether that silence or this answer be more grievous? "I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." What is this answer, but a defence CONT. I.] of that silence and seeming neglect? While our own wanderings, that we may find thee Hath not this poor woman yet done? can neither the silence of Christ, nor his denial, silence her? is it possible she should have any glimpse of hope after so resolute repulses? Yet still, as if she saw no argument of discouragement, comes and worships, and cries, "Lord, help me!" She which could not in the house get a word of Christ, she that saw her solicitors, though Christ's own disciples, repelled, yet she comes. Before she followed, now she overtakes him; before she sued aloof, now she comes close to him: no contempt can cast her off. Faith is undaunted grace; it hath a strong heart, and a bold forehead: even very denials cannot dismay it, much less delays. She came not to face, not to expostulate, but to prostrate herself at his feet her tongue worshipped him before, now her knee. The eye of her faith saw that divinity in Christ which bowed her to his earth. There cannot be a fitter gesture of man to God than adoration. Her first suit was for mercy, now for There is no use of mercy but in help. helpfulness. To be pitied without aid, is but an addition to misery. Who can blame us, if we care not for an unprofitable compassion? The very suit was gracious. She saith Lord, if thou canst, help me," as the not, " father of the lunatic; but professes the power, while she begs the act, and gives glory where she would have relief. Israel was Jacob's name; from him derived to his posterity: till the division of the tribes under Jeroboam, all that nation was Israel; then the father's name went to the most, which were ten tribes; the name of the son, Judah, to the best, which were Who now can expect other than a fair two. Christ takes no notice of this unhappy division; he remembers the ancient and yielding answer to so humble, so faithname which he gave to that faithful wrest-ful, so patient a suppliant? what can speed ler. It was this Christ with whom Jacob strove; it was he that wrenched his hip, and changed his name, and dismissed him with a blessing: and now he cannot forget his old mercy to the house of Israel, to that Their only doth he profess himself sent. first brood were shepherds, now they are sheep; and those not guarded, not impastured, but strayed and lost. O Saviour, we see thy charge, the house of Israel, not of Esau; sheep, not. goats, not wolves; lost sheep, not securely impaled in the confidence of their safe condition. Woe were He is to us if thou wert not sent to us. not a Jew which is one without. Every Israelite is not a true one. We are not of thy fold, if we be not sheep; thou wilt not reduce us to thy fold, if we be not lost in our own apprehensions. O Lord, thou hast put a fleece upon our backs; we have lost ourselves enough: make us so sensible of well, if a prayer of faith from the knees of humility succeeds not? and yet, behold, the further she goes, the worse she fares: her discouragement is doubled with her suit. "It is not good to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs." First, his silence implied a contempt, then his answer defended his silence, now his speech expresses and defends his contempt. Lo! he hath turned her from a woman to a dog, and, as it were, spurns her from his feet with a harsh repulse. What shall we say? Is the Lamb of God turned lion? doth that clear fountain of mercy run blood? O Saviour, did ever so hard a word fall from those mild lips? Thou calledst Herod fox most worthily; he was crafty and wicked: the Scribes and Pharisees a generation of vipers; they were venomous and cruel: Judas a devil; he was both covetous and treachBut here was a woman in distress, erous. |