Abraham's Steward

Edward Griffin (1770—1837)
 

Genesis 24:49
"Now if you will show kindness and faithfulness to my master, tell me; and if not, tell me, so I may know which way to turn."

Notwithstanding the awful destruction of the antedeluvian world, a second general apostasy, about the time of the birth of Abraham, had covered the earth with darkness and threatened to bury the last remains of true religion. On this account God separated Abraham from his father's house, in Haran of Mesopotamia, and moved him to the land of Canaan, in order to preserve a distinct and holy race. Nahor, the brother of Abraham, still remained in Haran, and retained in his family, with some impure mixtures, the worship of the true God. Among his sons was Bethuel, the father of Laban and of Rebekah.

When Abraham had grown old and approached the time of his death, both his pious and parental anxieties were engaged to provide a wife for Isaac, who, instead of seducing him to idolatry, would strengthen him in religion. Such a one he could not find among the inhabitants of Canaan; and besides, it was not proper to mingle the holy seed with the proscribed descendants of Ham. His eyes were therefore turned to the family of his brother Nahor. He called the steward of his house and bound him by an oath not to take a wife for Isaac of the daughters of Canaan, but to go into Mesopotamia, and bring thence one of the posterity of Nahor. Having received this commission, the steward took ten of his master's camels, and servants to attend him, and commenced his journey. When he approached the city of Haran, he earnestly prayed to God to prosper the enterprise and to point out the person designed for his master's wife. In answer to his prayer, Rebekah, the grandaughter of Nahor, a virgin of great beauty, came forth to meet him, and was made known to him as the one intended by Heaven.

The godly man was deeply affected and "bowed down his head and worshiped," and said, "Blessed be the Lord God of my master Abraham, who has not left destitute my master of his mercy and his truth." The news flew to the house of Bethuel that Abraham's servant was at the well without the city, and Laban hastened to bring him and his attendants into the house. And when meat was set before him, he said, "I will not eat until I have told my errand." He then gave an account of Abraham's family, of the great wealth which God had given him, of the object of his journey, and how Rebekah had been designated by a sign from Heaven as the mother of the chosen seed and then concluded his address in the words of our text: "Now if you will show kindness and faithfulness to my master, tell me; and if not, tell me, so I may know which way to turn."

They had received all the information they could expect, information abundantly confirmed by the extensive fame of Abraham. They knew him to be the favorite of Heaven, chosen for the father of the faithful. What need then of delay? To have put the question aside without taking it into immediate consideration, or to have sent the servant back without an answer, would have been an affront to the heir of an excellent and noble family. An explicit and immediate answer was demanded, and an explicit and immediate answer was given.

Let us apply this piece of history to illustrate Gospel truth.

The union between Christ and the Church is frequently represented by that between husband and wife. They are united in the tenderest affection—in sympathies ineffable; each feeling exquisitely the joys and sorrows of the other. When she sees him in the garden or on the cross, how does she sit and weep her life away. And how does she awake to rapture at those events which give him to see of the travail of his soul.

On the other hand, whatever favors are done to her, he accepts as done to himself; and whoever touches her touches the apple of his eye. They are united in a marriage covenant, in which he has engaged to provide for her as long as he lives, and she has promised to forsake all others and cleave to him. Like husband and wife their desires are one, their happiness is one, their trials are one, their interest is one. Like a wife she bears her husband's name and honors, and is in affectionate subjection. And like a bridegroom he has gone to prepare a place for her, and when he has made it ready he will come again and receive her to himself.

If then the marriage union and that in particular between Isaac and Rebekah, may be considered an emblem of the union between Christ and believers; then the embassy of Abraham's steward may illustrate the work of Gospel ministers. These ought to imitate the frank and honest zeal of this pious servant. They should tell their errand with all possible dispatch, and should insist on an immediate and unwavering answer. This is my duty. "And now if you will deal kindly and truly with my master, tell me."

But you ask, what is the treatment expected? I answer, the same that was expected in the case before us. Had Rebekah feigned a consent without actually forming the connection, she would not have dealt kindly and truly with the family of Abraham. Just so, Christ does not ask for a false profession, or a mere outward service, or a service extorted by anguish of conscience or fear of punishment, but one proceeding from cordial love. Rebekah and her family would not have treated Isaac kindly and truly, had she been given to another, the decided enemy of Abraham's house. This would have been adding injury to neglect. Just so, how is the Savior grieved when sinners reject the tenderest overtures of his friendship, and join themselves to Satan and the world.

The kindness which was demanded by Abraham's steward was that Rebekah should go with him and become the wife of Isaac: and the kindness which I entreat you to show to my Master is, that you would join yourselves to him in love and in an everlasting covenant, and entrust yourselves to his honor and protection. By all the love and truth which he has displayed, he has given you abundant reason to confide in him, and it is reasonable that you should trust him for time and eternity! He has been at vast expense to redeem you, and you ought to consent to be redeemed. You ought eagerly to grasp the provisions which the tears and blood of Calvary were expended to purchase for you.

But you who are not wedded to Christ will have many objections against all this. And that these objections may appear in all their strangeness, let us put them into the mouth of Rebekah on the occasion before us.

Suppose her to say: You describe indeed the beauties of the country and the virtues of your master; but I have never seen either. Just so, unbelief calls in question all the realities of another world. But let me reply to her. Though you have never seen either Canaan or Isaac, yet eye-witnesses of unquestionable veracity have told you of their existence and their excellence. But if you doubt, go and see for yourself; and if you are disappointed, then you may return.

So I say to you. Thousands who have tasted that the Lord is good, and by faith have been assured of the realities of another world, have testified of these things. But if you believe them not, come and see for yourselves; and if you are not satisfied, you may then return.

Suppose her further to object: How shall I forsake the favorite walks of my youth; the trees, the garden, the fields, which are endeared by so many tender recollections? And how shall I leave my friends in whose bosom I have so long reposed? Yes, these you must leave; but far more lovely scenes and dearer friends await you. Go, and you will never wish to return. And may I not say to those whose heart-strings entwine around the present world: Go, and you will never wish to return. Angels will be more pleasant companions than any you renounce. The happiness of religion will far exceed the pleasures you abandon. And the splendors of the New-Jerusalem will surpass all that you leave on earth!

Yes, she replies, you say I shall never wish to return, and this is the very reason why I am unwilling to go; for how shall I abandon all my favorite objects forever? And so men have been heard to say, I have but one objection to setting out in religion; I fear I shall never be disposed to return. But will you not be free agents still, and empowered to return if you please? And if you are not disposed, will it not be because you are happier in the condition you have found?

Suppose her still to object: The way is long, and obstructed by rivers and sandy deserts, and exposed to robbers and savage beasts. True, the way is long, but a much longer way have men often trodden in quest of the objects of avarice and ambition. The way is long, but the happiness which lies at the end will abundantly recompense your pains. Though obstructions are in the way, they are not insurmountable; and though there are dangers, yet behold the servants of Isaac sent to guard you safe to his mother's tent. Go, and the Lord God of Abraham shall attend you.

Look not at the length and difficulties of the way to Heaven. Greater hardships are you daily enduring in the service of the world. Harder is the way of transgressors than the way of wisdom. Sinners take more pains to get to Hell than Christians do to obtain the heavenly crown! And if you talk of danger, far greater are the dangers of staying behind. And behold a faithful band of angels are sent to protect you home. And the arm of Abraham's God will be your defense.

Do I hear her say: I fear I shall grow weary of the way, and have longings after home, and return, and be a derision to my acquaintance, and bring dishonor upon Isaac? Away with such pretenses. If you had any regard for Isaac's honor, then you would not disgrace him by such frivolous excuses. And if you loved him as much as this objection would seem to imply, you would break through every hazard to meet him. How often do we hear people refuse to set out in religion for fear they shall not persevere, and so bring dishonor upon Christ; as though to remain his enemies was the best way to show him respect, and as though they really avoided his service out of concern for his honor. It is all evasion and pretense.

But I hear her say: I am unworthy of so great and good a man, and it is impossible that he is sincere.

Be it so that you are unworthy, yet if he is not sincere, what means this company of servants and camels sent five or six hundred miles?

What mean these ear-rings and bracelets and jewels, the pledges of his love?

And if, unhappy sinners, Christ is not sincere, what means the host of servants sent to invite you?

What means the accompanying train of bibles and churches?

What mean all your temporal mercies?

What mean his sweat, his tears, his blood?

But none of these objections did Rebekah make. Nor these nor any others did it become her to make. It was her duty and her interest to accompany the servant to Canaan. It was the express will of God, as revealed to Abraham, and more particularly to the steward at the well of Haran.

And why should she not obey?

She was not solicited to form a union with a bad man. Isaac was every way worthy of her affection.

She was not invited to mix with strange blood. Isaac was her near kindred, and as such had a prior claim. She was not sought for one of the cursed descendants of Ham, but for the heir of all the promises. She was invited to become one of the children of Abraham, and to share in all the blessings promised to his house.

She was not invited to unite her destinies with an obscure and ignoble family, but with one which God by his favor had distinguished from all the families of the earth—one on which angels attended—which was visited by the Lord of glory—one under the care and management and laws of the God of Heaven.

She was invited to habitations illumined by divine revelation, to share in the devotions of sacrifice and the benefits of circumcision.

She was not invited to the dreary deserts of Arabia, but to the rich and well watered vales of Canaan, which God had selected from all other countries, to honor and to bless and to put his name there.

She was not solicited to form an alliance with poverty. Isaac was a wealthy prince.

She was not sought as a servant, but to be the partner of all his joys and cares, of his riches and honors—to receive his respectful attentions, and to move the most delicate sympathies of his heart. The overture was not prompted by a fit of passion, but by deliberate purpose.

She was not invited to a temporary union, until the fickleness of imagination should wander to another object, but to a connection as durable as life. She was selected from all the women of the earth. There were many daughters of Canaan fair and more noble, among whom he might have made his choice. But he passed by them all and set his love on her. He had taken much pains to obtain her, and had shown her great respect by sending a company of servants, with valuable presents, five or six hundred miles. And after all had she refused to return with them, she would not have dealt kindly and truly with their master. Had she rejected this offer, such another she never would have received. She must have connected herself with one of the heathen of the country. And what could she have expected from him? Rich he might have made her, but he could not have made her happy. He might have brought her into miserable thraldom to his false gods, but he could not have given her the blessings of Abraham. She was not unwise enough to make such a choice. She went with the servants of Isaac. She became a mother in Israel; and generations then unborn have long blessed her name.

My dear hearers, when you look at this case you cannot but see how wise it was in Rebekah to make the choice she did. But greater reasons urge you to connect yourselves with the spiritual Isaac. He has sent his servants to woo you with overtures the most tender and the most sincere. In delivering their message they would approach you with all the meekness of love, having no other object in view than the interest of you and their Master; an office of kindness which methinks ought not to give offence. Permit me therefore to deliver my message freely.

I am come to woo you for Christ. It is the will of God that you should go with me and become "the bride, the Lamb's wife." I do not ask you to accompany me to a land of darkness and drought, but to the charming scenes of Zion—to a country well watered with the river of salvation—to the bright fields of heaven—to the glories of the New-Jerusalem! This is the blessed habitation which the Bridegroom has gone to prepare for you; and he has sent ministers to invite and conduct you home. Will you accompany us to Canaan and become the children of Abraham? I have not come to solicit you for a wicked prince, but for the brightness of the Father's glory, the favorite of Heaven, the heir of all the promises. I have come to invite you to unite your destinies with a family which the God of Heaven delights to honor; to live under the laws of the Eternal King; to partake of the privileges of the Church, the vision of holy objects, the fruition of heavenly pleasures; and to inherit all the good which God has spoken concerning Israel. It is not a stranger that solicits your love, but one of your near kindred; not of another race, but one who has human nature—who has eaten and drunk and wept in this miserable world. Be not afraid of him, he is your brother. His heart is the seat of all that is tender. His honor and his love will secure you the gentlest treatment. You are not invited to the embraces of poverty and want, (as those imagine who suppose religion a joyless thing,) your proposed Husband is the Heir of all things, and commands all the treasures of the universe! You are not addressed by one of ignoble blood. He is the Son of the immortal God. He is the King of angels. Cherubim and seraphim are his humble relations. And yet he would raise you from the depths of infamy, to be his glorious bride. By such a union with God's own Son, you would become the children of God. What are the children of earthly kings compared to this? He wishes you not for menial servants, but for the partners of all his joys, the objects of his tenderest sympathies—his bride, and if you would be nearer still, the members of his body—the apple of his eye. This is no fit of passion, suddenly raised and as suddenly to subside. He has loved you with an everlasting love: and should you consent, his love would never change. No divorce, nor death itself, which dissolves all other nuptial bands, could separate you from his love. Come away, for he has set his love on you and chosen you out of all the worlds that he has made. He might have selected other planets, but this planet alone has tasted redeeming grace. He might have set his heart on the recovery of fallen angels, who were of a nobler race, and wooed him a bride in the chambers of Hell. But all others forsaking, he has made you the enviable object of his choice. Come away for he has set his love on you.

Great are the pains which he has taken to obtain you. For this he lighted up the sun, moon, and stars. For this he founded the earth, and in the waters laid the beams of his chambers. For this he has taken all the angels into his service. And O for this was Calvary stained with blood!

He saw his bride dying in a loathsome prison. She had fled from him and was perishing for her crimes. Yet in his forgiveness and pity he redeemed her with his own life. And because she still rejected him, he has been sending his servants to entreat her, and with them has sent many pledges of his love. And here still she sits, resisting his solicitations, and insensible to all his astonishing condescension. And such another offer she will never have again.

Well then, go and join yourself to a heathen husband. And now what are you the better? What can Satan and the world do for you? They may promise fair, but they never perform.

Can they wipe the tear of grief?

Can they cleanse the soul from guilt?

Can they support in a dying hour?

And now what hinders? "All things are ready, come unto the marriage." The Father's consent is obtained. But for this the Bridegroom must shed his sacred blood. He has himself made all the provisions necessary! If you lack a wedding garment, his righteousness has wrought one. The marriage supper is all prepared, and nothing is wanting but your consent. It will grieve me to carry back word that you will not come.

I have told my errand: "Now if you will show kindness and faithfulness to my master, tell me; and if not, tell me, so I may know which way to turn." I come in the name of a Master whose honor will not brook delay. You have his message, and have heard all that you can hear from him. The case, as plain as it ever will be, now lies before you. You are to expect no greater light, and no different means. The light and means which you have, are sufficient to do all that light and means can do. For if you will not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither would you be persuaded though one rose from the dead.

You now know, as well as you can hope to know in this world, what immeasurable wealth belongs to Christ, and that all this wealth would be yours. You know also that you are deeply in debt, and that without his relief you must perish in the prison of Hell. You have all the information you can expect respecting his character, and can determine now as well as at another time whether you can like it or not. If you cannot, why there is an end to the matter, for his character will not change. If you can, be sincere and declare it. It requires no long time for consideration, nor should the consideration be postponed. The magnitude of the question and the earnestness with which he urges his suit, both forbid delay. If ever he will be worthy, he is worthy now. If then you ever intend to receive him, consent at once. But if you never intend it, frankly inform him, that he may know what he has to do. In every point of view he has a right to an immediate answer.

Ah, my dear hearers, when your interest required his decision, did he hesitate thus? As soon as your necessities were known, he flew on the wings of love to your relief. He did not waver a moment. As soon as the question was put:, Will you shed your blood to save your bride from death? He eagerly replied: Yes, to the very last drop! She has wronged me much, but I will die for her, and pardon her with my dying breath. Amidst all the mighty difficulties and sufferings through which he passed, not a single doubt ever seized his mind. And now will you hesitate when he asks for some returns? Sirs, my Master would know what you intend to do.

God and holy angels are looking down on this assembly to see what answer you will give to their Beloved who makes this overture. And while God and angels are looking on, I will go through the house and ask you one by one what answer I shall carry back to him that sent me.

My aged friends, "If you will deal kindly and truly with my Master, tell me." Shall I wait for your decision?

Will the middle-aged prepare their answer? Will you deal kindly and truly with my Master or will you not? If you would wish for a moment to deliberate, I will go to the youth.

My dear young friends, are there any of you who will consent to go and be eternally united to the Lord Jesus Christ? Methinks I hear some secretly replying, "Yes, I will go!" Well, come along, blessed youth, as many as will, and be assured of a kind reception.

Shall I now return to parents, and let them know that some of those who have not lived half as long as they, are determined not to wait for another invitation? And why should you stay behind? I am indeed unwilling to leave you. Already have you delayed too long. For thirty, forty, and fifty years has this affectionate offer been pressed upon you, and yet you have formed no decision. You must not delay any longer. Answer me then to this explicit question: Will you become united to Christ and share in a blessed immortality—or will you, with Dives, lie down in everlasting burnings? Eternity hangs on the decision. Your soul is at stake. O decide. Will you be happy, or miserable forever?

After all, I fear there are some in different parts of the house who have not yet given their answer. It is distressing to leave them thus. I will go through the house once more and apply again for their decision.

Allow me to turn to those on my right hand. Sirs, I have a commission from the Lord to put this solemn question to you; Will you deal kindly and truly with my Master and live, or will you refuse and die?

And are there not some more on my left who will consent to go and be united to Christ? The Savior is waiting for your reply. O do not weary out his patience and provoke him to leave you and seek his bride among another people. Trifle with him no longer. For know, the Son of God, with all his condescension, is conscious of his dignity still. He knows it is an infinite stoop in him to look on you. He knows what returns he ought to receive. And before long he will assert his rights and vindicate his injured honor. They who will not take shelter in his bosom, shall soon feel the weight of his almighty arm in wrath! His persuasive invitations will turn to angry thunders; and then ten thousand voices will proclaim, "The great day of his wrath is come, and who shall be able to stand!"

When Abraham's servant received his commission, he said, "Perhaps the woman will not be willing to follow me." And Abraham said, "If the woman will not be willing to follow you, then you shall be clear from this my oath." Whether therefore you will hear or whether you will forbear, I humbly hope that I have delivered my own soul.