Читать книгу Luminescence, Volume 3 - C. K. Barrett - Страница 20

(Preached six times from Lumberhead Green, undated, to Katherine Road 2/24/35)

1 Samuel 16.17, 23 “Saul said unto his servants, ‘provide me now a man that can play well.’ And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took a harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and the evil spirit departed from him.”

These words cannot be understood apart from the man to whom they refer. You will have to look at Saul before you look into the words. When you look upon the first king of Israel you are looking upon one whose story is told in the Old Testament. You are also looking upon one whose failure was as complete and tragic as any recorded in Scripture. When Saul is first introduced to us our hearts go out to him. He was a man every inch of him—tall, strong, comely. Modesty mingled with strength, humility with bulk, and a gracious magnanimity with conquering power. He had a keen eye, swift powers of judgment, and was ready and strong in action. Discovered by the man of God, acclaimed by the people, he looked the heaven-sent leader of his people.

But alas! The promise of those early days was blighted. The blossom never heightened into the fruit of great and worthy achievement. He struck a few brave blows for freedom. There were a few bright flashes, but after that the dark. The first king of Israel died by his own hand, a miserable failure, a striking revelation of how, notwithstanding great gifts and early promise, a man may miss his chance, fail in his task, and miss his high destiny. The Bible is a faithful book and there are no stories more powerfully told than those in its pages. You cannot forget the story of Saul and you cannot miss its lessons. For our immediate purpose, we hone it down to one or two lessons appropriate to the occasion. We begin with—

THE KING’S DEMAND FOR A MINSTREL

“Provide me now a man that can play well.” The demand came out of a condition that needs examination. The king had fallen into a distemper, a fit of melancholy and depression and the old way of describing his condition was to say that an evil spirit from the Lord was tormenting him. That was the popular notion of the time. We do not now think of such spirits as coming from the Giver of all good things. Putting the whole story together we can see what happened. In Saul’s earlier days, the Spirit of God was welcomed, followed, obeyed. Later on, that Spirit was refused, rejected, disobeyed. Humility giving place to pride, Saul preferred his own way to God’s. The Spirit of the LORD departed from him because, to borrow a word from the New Testament, Saul “grieved the Holy Spirit.” “My Spirit shall not always strive with men.” The gracious, willing, guest found no acceptance or welcome, and departed. The effect of that departure was that from that hour the gracious king became a prey to gloom and melancholy, a victim of the torturing jealousy which goaded him to undo and mar the fair promise of the early years.

In less dramatic fashion, what happened to Saul occurs in our own day. When men shut God out of their lives they leave room for all manner of evil spirits. We try to live without the God for whom we were made, and for whom our souls cry out, and we leave the door open for torturing evil. Jesus saw and taught that in the parable of the house without a tenant.

I am not unmindful of the physical causes that so often make for shattered nerves and disordered minds. But a large part of the trouble of our times is the forgetfulness or rejection of God. The root cause of much of our pessimism, our fears, our cynicism, and some of our nervous wrecks, is to be found in the forsaking of God. Nothing can save us but the return to God and the recovery of His Spirit.

For mark the expedients to which a man resorts when he rejects God. The man who used to send for a prophet and seek counsel with God cries for a minstrel and sends for a musician. Later on, he turned to the witch at Endor and sought counsel of the dead. What a come-down! That is not simply strange. It is what always happens, and what is happening now! Men and women trying to live without God are hungry and unsatisfied. Everywhere there are frantic cries for the minstrel, for the man who can amuse, entertain, make us laugh and forget. You know the modern minstrel—pictures, revues, dances, and entertainments. I am saying nothing against these things in themselves. I am saying that it is an awful indictment that we are afraid to live with ourselves, that we are calling for a fiddler when our souls cry out for the living God. And I am saying that that way folly and failure lie. “You can never satisfy the soul by the tickling of a sense.” You may get an evening’s forgetfulness and fun out of a fiddle and a song, out of a dance and a play, but you cannot get what will satisfy an immortal soul made in the Divine image and destined for eternal glory. Oh, it is pitiable to see men and women craving for the happiness and frivolities of life when what they really need is God. It is not the minstrel, or his modern equivalent, we need, it is God and the God revealed in Jesus. Now turn to the other side, a complimentary lesson.

CONSIDER THE MINSTREL GOD SENT

You might almost call it God’s last appeal to Saul. In the good providence of God, it was David who went to play before the depressed, distressed, and diseased king—not a mechanical or professional buffoon, but a bright, clean, healthy, cheery youth, fresh from the sheepfolds and fellowship with God. A youth “with God’s dew on his gracious gold hair.”

One of the finest things in modern poetry for me is Browning’s description of David harping before Saul. He pictures Saul seated in the gloom of his tent. David said not a word, but tuned his harp and played. First, he played the tune with which the shepherd calls home his sheep in the gloaming, then the song of the reapers, a funeral dirge, a marriage hymn, and a battle song. Then he sang of the beauty of God’s world and the good gift of life. Then he tuned his harp to the story of Saul’s life, his boyhood, his honesty, his beauty, and his brave deeds. The king was touched and troubled, and “there in the darkness Saul stirred.” But the work was not yet done. Again, the minstrel bent over his harp and sang. The song was the blessed gospel, the assurance that by Divine mercy the past may be blotted out and a new man rise from the grave of the old. Then the look of care passed from Saul’s face, and a great gentleness came over him, he drew the lad towards him, and for long sat stroking David’s yellow hair.21

Thank God there are Davids as well as Sauls. If there are warped, weary, wizened men and women, there are fresh, eager, happy, pure souls too. And this incident suggests a ministry they can exercise. I would like to say to them—keep your soul young and clean, pure and glad, and your very presence will be an inspiration to sad and dispirited souls. Though you don’t know a note of music, God will make your life a song “that comforteth the sad, that helpeth others to be strong, and makes the singer glad.”

I know youth calls to youth and that you will want the company of those of your own age and outlook, but give some of your time and some of your youth and freshness to the old and depressed, to the sick and the suffering. Just by going into a home you may brighten it. One of my own loveliest memories is of going into a home in this district to visit an old lady. While I was there two of our own young people came in. It was their half-holiday and they were giving part of it to cheer a lonely old woman. Their incoming was like the coming in of spring, and I marked with joy how the old lady’s face brightened. One of those young folk had a lovely reward. The old lady had nothing to give but her thanks and her blessing, and one other thing. She had one spray of lilies of the valley in her garden and she had saved it to give to the young lady who made music in her heart and home.

And do not let us forget, in His service, the ministry of music is our debt to those who find sense in it. Music may be something men seek to tickle a sense when the soul is hungry for God. It may be the tones in which the voice of God reaches wandering and weary souls. The service of song may be a performance intended only to attract and please, or it may be part of the attempt to cheer, gladden, and uplift. There is tremendous power in song. Music both has charms to sooth a savage heart, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. Of some songs, it is written: “Such songs have power to sooth the restless pulse of care, and come like the benediction which follows after prayer. And the night is filled with music, and the cares that infest the day, just fold up their tents like Arabs, and as silently steal away.” How many hearts have been moved to finer issues by the singing of “home, sweet home?”22 Strength and courage are inspired by the singing of “John Brown’s Body.” Hearts and minds have been made tender and kind by “Lead, Kindly Light,” and comforted by “The Lord’s My Shepherd.” “Abide with Me” catches the heart of any audience from that in a cathedral to that in a football field.

Let us consecrate the power of song to the service of God and weary and tempted men and women. Do not be content to sing for amusement or applause. Sing so that depressed and lonely souls will be lifted and cheered. Above all, let the ministry of music be enlisted in the service of evangelism. Use it to cast out evil spirits. Sing as David sang to Saul of the grace of God, of the new chances God gives, of the new life that is offered. Let evangelistic singing cooperate with evangelistic preaching. Let us answer the world’s “Provide me now a man that can play well,” with a gospel ministry of sacred song.

21. He is referring to the 1890 poem “Saul,” a lengthy narrative poem by R. B. Browning.

22. This is a quote from H. W. Longfellow’s famous poem “The Day Is Done.”