The Dove That Found Rest
“Then he put forth his hand, and took her, and pulled her in unto him into the ark.” — Genesis viii. 9.
We can picture to ourselves this scene. For forty days the keel of the ark has rested on the summit of Mount Ararat; but on every side stretches a melancholy waste of waters. Not an inch of dry ground is visible, nor has been for over twenty weeks. Noah wearies of his imprisonment, and, like a long voyager, is hungry for a sight of land. He can see none from his single porthole; but perhaps the birds in his floating menagerie can find some. So he sends forth a raven which flies back and forth — feeding perhaps on the floating offal, and lighting occasionally on the ark. The raven takes care of itself, but brings him no information.
Then he lets fly a dove to see if the waters are abated from off the face of the ground. But the dove finds no rest for the sole of her foot; nor is there within her reach such graniferous food as she could eat. Weary with her flight and finding no tree to alight on, the poor bird comes back to her old home. Noah watches the tired little creature as she flutters back to the window of the ark. He puts forth his hand and catches the weary bird and draws her in unto him, and gives her welcome.
As we watch the pretty creature eating her seed, and then curling her head under her glossy plumage and dropping to sleep, we are set upon a meditation about that bird. It represents a wandering soul. Whose soul? Vo/fs, my brother sinner? it is probably a picture of your past experience. Like that wandering bird, you have flown far and looked in many directions, but you have not found rest. You have tried one place after another, one pursuit after another, one pleasure after another, but none of them gave you solid peace. None of them satisfied the hunger of your immortal soul. None of them made you feel sale for this world or for the next. Perhaps you tried money and all it could buy, but it could not purchase peace for your disquieted spirit. Perhaps you flew up on some perch of ambition; and then found yourself as sadly off as that rich and distinguished English statesman to whom a friend wished a” Happy
New Year!” and whose melancholy reply was, “It had need to be a happier one than the last year, for I did not see a single happy day in it!” Whatever you may have tried, it furnished your soul no substantial rest. The very idea of rest implies something solid and substantial underneath you. No mind can be at rest while tortured by an uneasy conscience or by the dread of losing its most cherished treasures. What could you know of peaceful repose when one of your own household was lying at the point of death in the next room? or when the cry of “fire!” was ringing in the street beneath your window? The human soul, like the body, must have a sense of security before it can realize a perfect rest. Does this world afford you that? Can your soul be insured by it against disquietude, disappointment, disaster, and the havoc of death? Does that weary bird, your heart, ever find any rest for the sole of the foot?
Answer this question honestly, all ye who have tried hard to draw a gill of happiness out of a whole cask of sensual pleasures. Answer this, ye who have built up lofty expectations of wealth, or professional success, or social eminence, or any other of this world’s attractive and inviting perches. When did a man ever get himself snugly fixed and determine to nestle down amid his creature-comforts, that God has not routed him up again? This world is not a Christian’s rest; no, nor an impenitent sinner’s either. God has vetoed that. You may rear, for example, your tasteful residence, and decorate it with the most elegant products of art; you may gather round your fireside a cheerful household, who shall sing a melodious “Sweet home” to your affections; but just as surely as you let the dove of your heart bear its whole weight on this frail bush, the bush will break, sooner or later, and break when you least expect it! Perhaps the flames will destroy your dwelling, or bankruptcy bring it “to the hammer,” or the angel of death, on its mysterious mission, may alight on the couch or the crib that contains your treasures. Mayhap domestic strifes or disappointments may embitter your cup, and you may discover that no wall can be built so high or so strong as to wall out trouble and sorrow.
Well — if the mind cannot find abiding happiness in any of the perishable things of earth, neither can your immortal spirit find rest in any mere human reliance — whether human opinion, human prayer, or human promises. Have you ever obtained an assurance of salvation on the ground either of your best purposes or best performances? Are you willing to risk the everlasting future of your soul on either what any man has done for you or you have ever done for yourself? Pushing the probe in deeper, let me ask you in all kindness — will your present style of thinking and living satisfy conscience and satisfy God, and will it secure to you spiritual health and a peaceful death and an immortality of glory? Ah, I see you shake your head, and a shadow passes over your countenance. Then you are not at rest! You do not feel safe. You cannot bear your whole weight on any brittle spider’s web. No! And God does not mean that your uneasy and sin-troubled soul shall find rest anywhere outside of that ark which redeeming love has provided. Millions upon millions have flown from one direction to another, like Noah’s dove, and found that this wide world from pole to pole “had not for them a home.” They have been forced to the same confession as Lord Tennyson’s gifted young friend, Arthur Hallam, when he exclaimed: “Lord, I have viewed this world all over. I have tried how this thing or that will fit my spirit. I cgn find nothing to rest on; for nothing here hath any rest itself Oh, blessed Jesus — center of light and strength! — the fullness of all things — I come back and join myself to Thee, and to Thee alone!”
” I heard the voice of Jesus say,
‘Come unto me and rest;
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon my breast!’”
When Noah’s dove could find no rest for the sole of her foot, whither did she fly? We read that she “returned unto him into the ark.” She saw nothing to alight upon anywhere else, and so she spread her weary wings toward the huge vessel on the peak of Ararat. To-day I sound in your ear the invitation of the Divine love and the Divine authority — “Return unto Me!” To do this you must abandon all trust in self-righteousness and all hope of self-salvation. To do this you must confess that you are a guilty wanderer — that God is right and you are wrong. You must renounce your past sins, however dear to you, and break with your old habits and your old self The voice to you is Return! There must be no delay. The weary bird could bring nothing but herself; and you can bring nothing to Jesus Christ but a weak and wandering sinner. Don’t bring your sins; don’t bring your excuses or apologies; don’t bring your merits, for they arc not worth the transportation. Bring to the compassionate Saviour yourself, just as you arc, and just what sin has made you. The prodigal’s rags and wretchedness were his only letter of recommendation.
Whither did the dove return? To the only refuge amid the whole wide waste of waters. There was but one. Beneath it lay a drowned world; round it spread the devouring deep! God has provided but one ark for your soul. “There is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.” In this wide world there are many systems of religion; but God has provided only one — just as He has created but a single sun to “rule the day.” At that single gateway of salvation the prince must enter alongside of the peasant; the philosopher must walk in by the side of the little child. We seem to see that tired, homesick bird sailing along through the air toward the solitary ark, and when it gets there it finds only one window. There was a first, a second, and a third story in Noah’s huge leviathan of a ship, but all the light was admitted through that single opening. Beautifully does that single window illustrate the illumination of the Holy Spirit. And most strikingly does it set forth that every soul that comes to Jesus Christ must come into a saving union with Him through the Holy Spirit’s regenerating work. This vital truth our Lord announced to Nicodemus in that wonderful conversation which contains the most comprehensive body of theology found on any page of the Bible.
There was only one window to the ark and that was open. We cannot imagine that the weary bird did so foolish a thing as to drive its head against the walls of the ark, or to alight on the roof, or to fly round the vessel. It wanted to come in, and there was only one place of entrance. My troubled friend, seeking to be saved, can you not learn from that bird just what you must do?
A certain awakened soul was once taught by a bird how to find admission into the peace that passeth understanding through Christ Jesus. The late Dr. Nicolas Murray tells us that he was preaching, on a bright spring day, in the ancient church of Elizabeth. During the service a bird flew in through the open door, and sailed up to the vaulted ceiling. There sat in the audience an intelligent lady who had been for weeks under deep conviction of sin and had found no rest for her bewildered soul. She began to watch the bewildered bird as it flew to one closed window after another, and she kept saying to herself, “Why doesn’t it see the open door?” The poor thing flew round and round till it grew weary, and then, lowering itself toward the floor, it caught a view of the open door, and was out in an instant into the sunshine. When it was gone the troubled woman said to herself: “I have been acting just like that bird. I have been trying to find peace where it could not be found. I have tried to find escape from the bondage and burden of sin through windows that were closed against me. Christ is the door. As that bird escaped into the light and the sunshine, just so may I.” And she actually found peace that day by a simple yielding of her weary and sin-plagued heart to her Saviour.
I fear that many in this assembly have found no rest for their souls because they have been seeking it in the wrong place and by wrong methods; they have flown everywhere but to the right spot. One has tried to reform his life, but was not able to regenerate his heart; and the old diseases broke out again. Another has said, “If I read God’s word and pray enough I shall find peace.” Another has betaken himself to some special service of an evangelist, or has gone to converse with his pastor, or in a kind of forlorn desperation has entered an “inquiry meeting” to find relief. None of these is God’s ark! Nothing but life can produce life. Jesus declares: “I am the Way; I am the Life!” He that hath the Son, and he only, hath life; and the Divine Spirit leads only to the almighty and the crucified Christ. In short, oh, anxious and troubled soul — who art in danger of being misled by the devil or of being lost by delay — there is but one window into the ark, and that stands wide open! Coming to that is faith. For faith, you must remember, is not a sentiment, not an opinion; it is an act. It is the act of joining your weakness to Christ’s strength, your unworthiness to His infinite merit, yourself to Himself. The obedience of your soul to the leading of the Holy Spirit brings you to Jesus Christ, and the infinite love puts forth the pierced hand and draws you in — as Noah drew that returning dove into the ark. Then comes peace, wondrous peace, such as this world can neither give nor take away. All the disquietude of this world cannot shake it. There is no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus. The soul fears no evil tidings; for the perfect love has cast out fear. Conscience no longer torments; and death no longer alarms, for Jesus has conquered death. Wondrous peace ineffable! There is only One in all the universe who can bestow it, and when He does bestow it, all the powers of Hell cannot give it a single jar! It is the peace of God, and the peace with God which passeth all understanding.
“Can I do anything for you?” said an officer on the battlefield, who came across a wounded Union soldier who lay weltering in his blood. “Nothing, thank you.” “Shall I bring you a little water?” “No, I thank you; I am dyingy “Is there not something I can do; shall I not send some message to your friends?” “I will not trouble you to do that; but there is one thing for which I would be much obliged. In my knapsack you will find a Testament. Please open it to the fourteenth chapter of John, and you will find a verse that begins with the word * peace.’ Please read it to me.” The officer got out the book and read: “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” “Thank you, sir,” said the dying man. “I have got that peace; I am going to that Saviour; I do not want anything more.” His fluttering spirit, like a home-bound dove, flew heavenward, and the blessed Jesus put forth His hand and sweetly drew him in! Although but an humble private in the army of the Lord as he was in the army of the land, yet he found his place among the crowned conquerors in glory.
“Ten thousand times ten thousand
In sparkling raiment bright,
The armies of the ransomed saints
Throng up the steeps of light:
‘Tis finished, all is finished,
Their fight with death and sin:
Fling open wide the golden gates,
And let the victors in /”
Date Due
■y.’ -48