by C. H.
Mackintosh
We shall now consider the history
of Moses during that deeply interesting period which he spent in retirement.
This was a period that included 40 of his very best years—the prime of life. In
this period, the Lord graciously, wisely, and faithfully led His dear servant
apart from the eyes and thoughts of men, in order that He might train him under
His own hand. Moses needed this. True, he had spent 40 years in the house of
Pharaoh; and, while his sojourn there was not without its influence and value,
yet it was as nothing when compared with his sojourn in the desert. The former
might be valuable, but the latter was indispensable.
Nothing can possibly make up for
the lack of secret communion with God, of the training and discipline of His
school. "All the wisdom of the Egyptians" (Acts 7:22) would not have
qualified Moses for his future path. He might have pursued a most brilliant
course through the schools and colleges of Egypt. He might have come forth
laden with literary honors—his intellect stored with learning and his heart
full of pride and self-sufficiency. He might have earned his degree in the
school of man, and yet have to learn his alphabet in the school of God. Mere human wisdom and learning, however valuable in themselves, can never constitute any
one a servant of God, nor equip him for any department of divine service. The
man whom God will use must be endowed with such qualifications as can alone be
found in the deep and hallowed retirement of the Lord’s presence.
All God’s servants have been made
to know and experience the truth of these statements. Moses at Horeb, Elijah at
Cherith, Ezekiel at Chebar, Paul in Arabia, and John at Patmos are all striking
examples of the immense practical importance of being alone with God. And when
we look at the Divine Servant, we find that the time He spent in private was
nearly ten times as long as that which He spent in public. He, though perfect
in understanding and in will, spent nearly 30 years in the obscurity of a
carpenter’s house at Nazareth before He made his appearance in public. And even
when He had entered upon His public career, how often did He retreat from the
gaze of men to enjoy the sweet and sacred retirement of the divine presence!
Now we may feel disposed to ask,
How could the urgent demand for workmen ever be met if all need such protracted
training, in secret, before they come forth to their work? This is the Master’s
care, not ours. He can provide the workmen, and He can train them also. This is
not man’s work. God alone can provide and prepare a true minister. Nor is it a
question with Him as to the length of time needful for the education of such an
one. We know He could educate him in a moment, if it were His will to do so.
One thing is evident, namely, that God has had all His servants very much alone
with Himself, both before and after their entrance upon their public work; nor
will any one ever get on without this. The absence of secret training and
discipline will necessarily leave us barren, superficial, and theoretic. A man
who ventures forth upon a public career before he has duly weighed himself in
the balances of the sanctuary, or measured himself in the presence of God, is
like a ship putting out to sea without proper ballast; he will doubtless
capsize with the first stiff breeze. On the contrary, there is a depth, a
solidity, and a steadiness flowing from our having passed from grade to grade
in the school of God, which are essential elements in the formation of the
character of a true and effective servant of God.
Hence, therefore, when we find
Moses, at the age of 40 years, taken apart from all the dignity and splendor of
a court for the purpose of spending 40 years in the obscurity of a desert, we
are led to expect a remarkable course of service; nor are we disappointed. The
man whom God educates is educated, and none other. The hand of man could never
mold "a vessel … meet for the Master’s use" (2 Tim. 2:21). The One
who is to use the vessel can alone prepare it, and we have before us a very
beautiful example of His mode of preparation.
"Now Moses kept the flock of
Jethro, his father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he led the flock to the
back side of the desert, and came to the mountain of God, even to Horeb"
(Exod. 3:1). Here we have a marvelous change of circumstances. In Gen. 46:34 we
read, "Every shepherd is an abomination unto the Egyptians," and yet
Moses, who was "learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians," was
transferred from the Egyptian court to the back of a mountain to tend a flock
of sheep and to be educated for the service of God. Assuredly, this is not
"the manner of man." We should have expected to find in one so highly
favored not only a solid and varied education but also such an exquisite polish
as would fit him for any sphere of action to which he might be called. But then
to find such a man with such attainments called away from such a position to
tend sheep at the back of a mountain is something entirely beyond the utmost
stretch of human thought and feeling.
There is a very wide difference
between human and divine education. The former has for its end the refinement
and exaltation of nature; the latter begins with withering it up and setting
it aside. "The natural man receives not the things of the Spirit of God,
for they are foolishness unto him, neither can he know them, because they are
spiritually discerned" (1 Cor. 2:14). Educate the "natural man"
as much as you please and you cannot make him a "spiritual man."
"That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the
Spirit is spirit" (John 3:6). The Apostle Paul learned more in Arabia than he ever could have at the feet of Gamaliel. None can teach like God, and all
who will learn of Him must be alone with Him. There it was that
Moses learned his sweetest, deepest, most influential and enduring lessons.
There too, must all repair who mean to be educated for the ministry.
(Let my reader not suppose for a
moment that the design of the above remarks is to detract from the value of
really useful information, or the proper culture of the mental powers. By no
means. If, for example, he is a parent, let him store his child’s mind with
useful knowledge; let him teach him everything which may, hereafter, turn to
account in the Master’s service; let him not burden him with anything which he
would have to "lay aside" in running his Christian course, nor
conduct him, for educational purposes, through a region from which it is
well-nigh impossible to come forth with an unsoiled mind. You might just as
well shut him up for ten years in a coal mine in order to qualify him for
discussing the properties of light and shade, as cause him to wade through the
mire of a heathen mythology in order to fit him for the interpretation of the
oracles of God, or prepare him for feeding the flock of Christ.)
Beloved reader, may you prove in
your own deep experience the real meaning of "the back side of the
desert"—that sacred spot where nature is laid in the dust and God alone
exalted. There it is that men and things, the world and self, present
circumstances and their influences, are all valued at what they are really
worth. There it is, and there alone, that you will find a divinely-adjusted
balance in which to weigh all within and all around.
All is reality there. The din and
noise, the bustle and confusion of Egypt are not heard in that distant place.
The crash in the monetary and commercial world is not heard there; the sigh of
ambition is not heaved there; this world’s fading laurels do not tempt there;
the thirst for gold is not felt there; the eye is never dimmed with lust, nor
the heart swollen with pride there; human applause does not elate, nor human
censure depress there. In a word, everything is set aside save the stillness
and light of the divine presence. God’s voice alone is heard, His light
enjoyed, His thoughts received. This is the place to which all must go to be
educated for the ministry; and there all must remain if they would succeed in
the ministry.
(From Notes on the Book of
Exodus.)