O inhabitant of Lebanon, that makest thy nest in the cedars.
The nest in the cedars
The inhabitant of Lebanon, that maketh his nest in the cedars, is an illustration of all those who, in the pride and security of the present, are blind to the uncertainties of the future.
I. Why is it that God’s message takes such little hold of the heart? He pours out all His love in pleading with men. “Seek ye My face.” Has the answer gone up from your heart, “Thy face, Lord, will I seek”? If not, why not? Are you making a nest for yourself among the cedars? dreaming yourself to be secure, and, like the false Church in the Apocalypse, saying to yourself, “I shall see no sorrow”? What is the ground of your security? Has the hand of diligence surrounded you with comforts? The cheerful home, the well-spread table, the smiling faces of children,--are these your portion? Oh, how often are these things as the nest in the cedars! Or the nest may be of another kind--framed out of self-righteousness and moral excellence. In short, whatever it be which holds back the heart from Christ, and prompts the vain hope that all will be well at last, though there be no conscious faith, nor any evidence of a converted heart, that is your nest among the cedars. Though now heedless to the call of God, the storm must ere long burst on the cedar, and rive it to its roots, laying in the dust the nest that seemed so safe in its towering branches. Disappointment, loss, disaster, trial, death, the judgment,--what are these in their turn but just the lightning flash which strips the cedar of its foliage, and leaves the nest exposed to the scorching of the summer’s heat, and the withering of the winter’s frost? What are they all but God’s instruments for shivering into ruins the miserable refuges in which men seek shelter and comfort amid the experiences of time, and in the prospect of eternity?
II. When the cedars are fallen, how bitter the disappointment! The world, its business, its pleasures, its cares, its struggles, its joys, its sorrows,--all are fast vanishing. Snap the cedars go! and meanwhile there is dismay at the review of the past, and the still darker prospect of the future! Behind, a life spent with the form of godliness, but entirely without God. Before, is death, the sifting of the judgment, eternity. Behind, a life given up to earth and earthly things. Before, an immortality, over the far-reaching expanse of which no star of hope sheds a gleam of life and peace. Can we wonder if the soul shrinks back in alarm, if dark forebodings haunt the spirit, and prayers, and regrets, and vows, and promises blend together as the outward expression of anxiety and fear?
III. Where can you build your hopes and not find them shattered and broken by disappointment. Not among the cedars, but in the hollow of that Rock of Ages, which defies the howling of the tempest, and the sweep of the hurricane--which stands forth calm and stately in its strength, amid the shocks of time, and shall lift its head unshaken, even when the earth and all that is in it shall be dissolved and broken up. The memory of guilt and shortcoming, and the record of transgression are terrible, hut to the humble and believing Christian they can bring neither harm nor hurt. “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide beneath the shadow of the Almighty.” (R. Allen, M. A.)
A sure refuge
I. The insufficiency of every human aid, as illustrated by the prophet in the example of the “inhabitant of Lebanon.” Lebanon was a noble and a stately mountain, the pride and the ornament of the Eastern world. Its summit was crested with eternal snows, while its sides were adorned with forests of the graceful and goodly cedar. Beneath were slopes of rich pasturage, on which were fed unnumbered flocks and herds. Rivulets gushed from the fissures, and separated among the hills, which afforded refreshment to the fainting traveller, and maintained in native purity of freshness the verdure of the mountain side. No image could more expressively convey to the mind of an Israelite all that man most highly esteems of grandeur, magnificence, and beauty. But the idea of security is also implied. In many human ills, money, as the wise man says, “is a defence”; and the rich man, in a land of commerce like our own, is as the “inhabitant of Lebanon,” compared with the dweller in the plain below. The winds may rage, and the storm beat; but his airy dwelling place is unmoved. The enemy may spread themselves over the plain; but his house of defence “is the munitions of rocks.” How enviable a condition! you will say, But Ah! “the things that are impossible with men, are possible with God.” Lightning from heaven above may blast the towering cedar; the earthquake muttering from beneath may rend the solid rock: or even when the wave reposes without a ripple or an undulation on the surface of the mountain lake, the stroke of death may come suddenly, the strong man’s fortress may be powerless in an instant, as a woman in her travail, or as the infant just struggling into birth.
II. For all who will seek it there is a sure refuge, whatever may be the danger, and an invincible arm of defence, whoever may be we adversary. St. Paul indeed said, in reference to the times of fiery persecution in which his own lot was cast, that “if in this life only they had hope in Christ, believers were of all men most miserable”; but what was then “the present distress,” has happily passed away, and godliness is now truly “profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.” All creation is redolent of joy and peace to the true believer in Christ Jesus. He knows, that God hath “made with him an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure”; that “all His ways are mercy and truth, unto such as keep His covenant and His testimonies”; and that no truly good thing “will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.” So long, then, as prosperity continues, enjoyment is enhanced by thankfulness; and when adversity comes upon him, suffering is lightened by faith. The “light affliction,” which is upon him, will, he knows, “work for him a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,” etc. (T. Dale, M. A.)