The Fiery-Cloudy Pillar
‘And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light, to go by day and night. He took not away the pillar of the cloud by day, nor the pillar of fire by night, from before the people.” — Ex. xiii. 21, 22.
In the campaigns of Alexander the Great, we are told that over his tent he caused a lofty pole to be set up, and on its summit was a brazier filled with combustible materials kept constantly burning. In this way, if any one wanted to find the commander’s head-quarters he could never be at any loss, for over them floated the cloudy banner by day, the flaming beacon by night. This usage he borrowed from the Persians, but whence they derived it we do not know.
It was a good contrivance; but here we find it anticipated after a fashion so august, that except as an illustration it is of no use mentioning the expedient of the Macedonian conqueror.
On the night of their destined deliverance, when at Succoth the Israelites reached the appointed rendezvous unorganized, and of late unaccustomed to martial movements, the inquiry of the more thoughtful would be as to their future progress and the plan of march. But Moses claimed no kingship. He had been God’s messenger to Pharaoh, and he had spoken God’s messages to themselves; but except that reluctant prominence to which he had been forced by the absolute command of God, Moses had assumed no personal responsibility. He did not so much as profess to know the route, and as possibly there was no one there who had performed the journey across the desert to Canaan, they might soon have found themselves a helpless mass, a weltering crowd huddled together as sheep without a shepherd, had they not espied betimes a banner in the sky, the standard of their unseen leader, and gathered reassumnce from its saving sign.
The word Shekinah is a Hebrew term. It denotes “dwelling as in a tent or tabernacle.” And although the infinite Jehovah is nowhere excluded, although there is no spot in immensity where God is absent, to our limited and place-loving minds locality is a helpful element, and — especially in the ruder and more infantile ages of our race — the Most High has condescended and met this localizing propensity. He has selected a place, and in that place has made His presence manifest or palpable. Such a place was Horeb and its burning bush, when Moses took.
off his shoes; for there, on His servant’s view, in visible glory, had flamed out a token of His presence, who is the heaven- filling, space-pervading I AM. Such a place for a thousand years was the Temple on Moriah; for although in His essential presence Jehovah had still His path on the waters and in regions where the wings of the morning could not penetrate, it was still with perfect truth that the worshipper recognised in that beautiful house a permanent Bethel, and feeling, “How dreadful is this place! this is none other than the house of God, the gate of heaven,” prayed withal, “0 thou that sittest between the cherubim, shine forth!” And during the desert journey such a place was this aerial pillar. So far like the flag alternately smoking and flaming, which a general would have suspended over his tent — a waving pendant by day and a torch by night, — so far like this as at once to suggest the head- quarters of their camp and the presence of their leader, it was so entirely miraculous as at once to lift their minds above Moses, and suggest to the dullest in their midst that they were under the protection of heavenly power, that the Captain of their host was Divine.
As far as the purposes of the Israelites were concerned, that cloudy-fiery pillar was the throne of the Eternal; it was the Shekinah or dwelling-place of Israel’s God; it, was the manifestation of His friendly protecting presence in their midst; and often as the Israelite looked up and saw the majestic symbol, he felt assured, “And God is with us;” as in the well-known words, —
“When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
Out from the laud of boudage came,
Their fathers’ God before them moved.
An awful guide, in cloud and flame!
By day, along the astonished lands,
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia’s crimsoned sands
Returned the fiery column’s glow.”
There was sure guidance in its goings — a pledge of safety in its presence; by day a welcome awning in its shadow, and by night an illumination no less welcome in its forth-flowing effulgence. That pillar was Israel’s pioneer. When the cloud journeyed they journeyed, and when the cloud rested the people rested. It was Israel’s protector. When Pharaoh gave chase, the cloudy pillar passed from the front of the camp to the rear, and became to the one a lamp, and to the other a “horror of thick darkness,” so that the Egyptians could not get near the Israelites all the night; and the only time that they fled before their enemies, was when the cloud refused to advance, and yet they wilfully rushed into battle. The cloud was Israel’s angel and oracle. On one occasion it shot devouring flame, and it was by a flash from its consuming fire that, in the act of
1S4 THE FIERY-CLOUDY PILLAR.
rebellion, Nadab and Abihu fell dead; but usually, its presence was friendly and propitious. “They called upon the Lord and he answered them: He spake unto them in the cloudy pillar” (Ps. xcix.); and all the allusions show what a loved and welcome sign had that Shekinah been, and how sacred was its memory. “In the daytime he led them with a cloud, and all the night with a light of fire” (Ps. lxxviii. 14); and “He spread that cloud for a covering” (Ps. cv. 39); — to all which elements of protection, guidance, comfort, the prophet refers, in describing the millennial Church: “The Lord will create upon every dwelling-place of mount Zion, and upon her assemblies, a cloud and smoke by day, and the shining of a flaming fire by night: for upon all the glory shall be a defence” (Isa. iv. 5).
This is our Etham. Let us look at the pillar of cloud and of fire which offers to guide and to guard us in our journey from *Egypt to Canaan — in our journey from the new starting-point of this morning to the mansions which Jesus has prepared for those who seek a better country.
Christ is our Captain. If you are a Christian, the Lord Jesus is your Leader. He is beside you, before you; for He has said, “Lo, I am with you alway.” You have declared your confidence in Him, and your affection for Him. Whither He conducts you wish to proceed; where He goes before it
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is your desire to follow. But where is your guiding star, your oriflamme, your precursor pillar, your fiery- cloudy column?
On this point there can be little difficulty. The Bible is the Word of Christ. Into that brief but abounding record He has put all His mind concerning us. Like the angel of His presence (Ex. xiv. 1 9), we have it ever with us, the tangible token of His friendliness, the abiding exponent of His will. If we are at any loss we have only to consult its lively oracle, and if we are in any fear we have only to look up to the great and precious promise in its quenchless ray. The ultimate and true Shekinali was Immanuel. In Him dwelt all the fulness of the Godhead bodily; and when Jesus dwelt amongst us, the Godhead did, in a way most manifest and marvellous, in very deed dwell with man upon earth. ‘Nov has He ceased to do so. In the Christ unseen but present still, earth is still God’s dwelling; but if we want something palpable, local, tangible, we have it in the written Word. The mind that was in Christ was the mind that is still in the Bible; and should the Holy Spirit make a transfusion of that mind into our own, we should want no more. We should want no argument to prove that there is a heaven, for we should have the earnest already in ourselves. We should not need to go up to older disciples and more experienced believers, saying, “Sir, we would see Jesns,” for Christ would live in ns, the lidit of all our seeing, the life of all our living, without whom the universe were dark to us and desolate. We should not need to say continually —
“‘Tis a point I long to know,
Do I love the Lord or not?”
for with such an Alpha and Omega to our faith and affections, we should be raised above sinful doubts and selfish solicitudes, and should have only one answer to the question, “Lovest thou me?”
Christ is our Captain, and the Bible is His banner, which He bids us eye and follow. It is the fiery-cloudy pillar, regarding which He says, “Behold, I send an angel before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared. Beware of him and obey his voice, for my name is in him.” Christ himself, the Incarnate Word of God, still speaks to us in the written Word; and if you ask, “Where is the Shekinah now?” We answer, “In the volume of this book. Here it is that the mind of God still maintains its residence; and here it is that He who sits between the cherubim still speaks to us. This is the enduring Bethel where the golden stair from earth to heaven can still be found — the ladder not yet drawn up and taken in, on which the shortest step and feeblest faith may find a footing; the moving shrine, the perennial Shekinah which, whosoever follows, will find himself guided by God’s counsel and at last received to His glory.”
1. The Bible is a sure and certain guide. The Bible comes from God, and so it is the only book by following which we can be sure of getting back to God. Possibly enough the fiery- cloudy pillar was not at first sight particularly specious or imposing. On the banks of the Nile the Israelites may have seen a bigger bonfire, some magical and many- coloured illumination, fitted to make as great an impression for the moment, or even in the desert a sudden meteor may have launched into the sky and swift as thought along its line of light may have darted towards the promised land; but who would take for his guide an ignis fatuiis or a shooting-star? And this sultry afternoon, wafted from the sea, a great cloud has overspread the firmament. It is broader than the cloudy column, and all the camp is grateful for its canopy. And now that the sun is setting, how poor and tame the familiar pillar looks beneath its molten chrysolite and purpled majesty! But before the first watch is over, its bosom throbs with fire, and coming down in noise and tempest, before the morrow it is utterly evanished, and as a shadow from the heat the pillar remains the only awning in all that weary land.
A poet throws out a brilliant flash, a day-dreamer gets hold of a beautiful kind-looking thought, and teases and teds it, and tosses it out into a cloud fine and filmy, and avers that it covers more space, that it is more comprehensive and more fitted to the case of mankind than Bible philanthropy; but even the spark of a neighbour’s fire makes it up like gossamer, and nobody waits to see where the ashes come down; whilst theories more laboured and specious, ideal philosophies and godless philanthropies, systems exhaled from the great gulf of opinion, spread over the sky, and for a moment have it all to themselves; but at last in some Eobespierrian revolution the thunder bursts, the storm comes down, and the sky is bare. But for the persistent pillar — the Word of the Lord which endureth for ever — there would be no comforter nor covert from all the sultry noon.
Says Jesus, “I am the Light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” You want pardon, and the word of Christ conducts you to the cross. You want a sense of God’s friendship, you want to know that the great God does not despise you, nor the holy God dislike you; and this Word leads you to the throne of grace, and teaches you to cry, Abba, Father. You want wisdom, zeal, and prudence, serenity, and self-possession, a firm and noble constancy, with a bright and engaging winsomeness; and this Word tells you of the Holy Spirit, tells you that if you entreat the aid of that great Comforter He will come to you, and replacing nature’s gloom with heavenly gladness, will also give you the germs and earnests of those gracious dispositions of which a better world is full.
2. The Bible is a guide adapted to every circumstance and every season. Its shade made the pillar welcome by day, its brightness made it still more welcome by night. To any susceptible spirit it must have been a striking scene which at the noon of night opened from the outskirts of the camp; for you know that night is a great revealer. As soon as the veil of sunshine is withdrawn new worlds come forth: the azure canopy retires, heaven opens, and, as the starry vistas boundlessly withdraw, space growls infinite; and yet, what is very strange, whilst man grows little God draws near. Nor are they the great lights only, Sirius, Arcturus, and such mighty suns which burst upon our eye now that the glamour of the day is gone, but such lesser lights as the glow-worm on this bank, as the lantern flies that rain beneath the tamarisk covert. And yonder is the forefront of the camp. Brother pilgrims are locked in slumber, but He that keepeth Israel, He slumbers not. Behold the sign — that tall and silvery column which sheds down on all the tents a softer day-spring, meet emblem of that Eye divine which never wearies, and which is beaming over His beloved even in their sleep.
So the Bible is the worker’s book. “Work while it is day.” To the toiling pilgrim there is direction in its pillared way-mark; there is comfort in its cool and shadowy covert. In Christ, within the camp, under His guidance, it is delightful to press on, working in faith, labouring in love, always abounding in that service so fruitful and blessed. “But the night Cometh when no man can work;” the night of suffering or sadness, when all that you can do is to weep and be silent, is to sit still and wait. But if you “suffer as a Christian,” your nocturnal experiences will be not a little instructive and remarkable. For one thing, now that the garish day is gone, now that the near-hand glitter has passed away, the things unseen and eternal will shine forth, —
“Just as we see by night
Worlds never seen by day.”
But not stars alone, not the everlasting glories overhead, but little joys and blessings all around, the glow-worms of our path, whose tiny tapers had no chance till “now; those lesser joys and blessings which are in almost every lot, but which no one says,” How good they are! how beautiful! ’ till the sun has set, and God’s lesser lamps get leave to shine, till the homely neighbour, till the wife or daughter comes in to cheer the poor man or the invalid. And then it is that the cloudy pillar of the working day becomes the brightening Pharos and soothing guardian of the wakeful night. To the sturdy thinker or practical worker, a proverb of Solomon was a motto for a whole day’s direction, an argument of Paul was a problem for a long winter’s discussion. But now that it is dark all over the desert, now that the watcher lies musing in his tent, and pushes aside a handbreadth of curtain, he is glad to see through the encompassing cloud coming forth a body of brightness; and as he wistfully gazes the form grows more definite, the features more divine, till on the great white throne of that radiant cloud he sees none other than the Son of Man. So move on, thou dim and mysterious column, or stand still, thou bright and transparent pillar, I follow thee. Jesus is in thee, and over green pastures, over rough deserts, through the Eed Sea, through Jordan, along streets populous with friendship and resounding with life, and adown the lone valley of death, 0 Word of God, I follow thee.
When the Israelites were at Etham they did not Ivuow all that lay before them. On the one hand, they had no notion what a waste howling wilderness it was, nor what a terrible time was to be spent passing through it. On the other hand, they could as little foresee the wonders which they were destined to witness, the miraculous meals, the fountain opened in the flinty rock, and above all that great episode when the voice of the Eternal broke the silence of ages, and from the pulpit of Sinai spake the Ten Commandments. All their future was hidden in the cloud of God’s unsearchable wisdom, and yet in the movements of that visible pillar their own course was perfectly clear.
And so, my friends, a day like this is our Etham. We are so far on “the edge of the wilderness.” A tract of untraversed time spreads before us, and although we shall not call it “a wretched land, which yields us no supplies,” it is so far like the desert, inasmuch as it is a land unknown. Of one thing we may be very sure, it won’t be all like Elim; it won’t be all rest and relaxation, a protracted holiday, a perpetual paradise with ripe dates overhead and soft grass under foot; but there will be a good deal of toilsome marching, perhaps some fighting, a good deal of hard and hungry work, a good deal of self-denial. But let us also hope that, as in the past so still, there will be goodness and mercy. Let us hope that if an Amalek come forth against us, a face to the foe with hands uplifted to heaven may prevail If arrested in our path, if a sudden voice exclaims “Stand still!” let us hope that it may be in order to see some great salvation. And above all let us hope and be sure that the bread of life will not fail, nor the brook which runneth by the way, that Rock which followeth all the pilgrimage; and if any special manifestation of mercy or power be vouchsafed, let us pray that it may be a means of grace, — that like the sermon from Horeb it may write God’s law deeper on our hearts, and impress His own perfections more profoundly on our awe -struck minds.
Up into this year may the angel of God’s presence attend us, and make it a year of proficiency and progress, — a year of cheerful industry and patient endurance. May it add many to the Church of the saved, and in the case of God’s people may it add grace to grace. Over every dwelling-place of Mount Zion, over all your habitations and all your assemblies, may the Lord create a cloud and smoke by day, and the shining of a flaming fire by night; and upon all the glory may He be Himself the defence.