We have now reached, in our meditations on this precious book, the moment in the which the camp is called to move forward. All is duly ordered, according to that grand regulator, “the commandment of the Lord.” Each man according to his pedigree, and each tribe according to the standard thereof, is in the divinely appointed place. The Levites are at their post, each with his own clearly defined work to do. Full provision is made for the cleansing of the camp from every species of defilement; and not only so, but the lofty standard of personal holiness is unfurled, and the fruits of active benevolence are presented. Then we have the golden candlestick and its seven lamps, giving forth their pure and precious light. We have the pillar of fire and of cloud; and finally, the double testimony of the silver trumpet. In short, nothing is lacking to the pilgrim host. A vigilant eye, a powerful hand, and a loving heart have provided for every possible contingency, so that the whole congregation in the wilderness, and each member in particular, might be “thoroughly furnished.”
This is only what we might expect. If God undertakes to provide for any one, or for any people, the provision must, of necessity, be perfect. It is wholly impossible that God could omit any one thing needful. He knows all things and can do all things. Nothing can escape His vigilant eye; nothing is beyond His omnipotent hand. Hence, therefore, all those who can truly say, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” may add, without hesitancy or reserve, “I shall not want.” The soul that is, in truth and reality, leaning on the arm of the living God can never—shall never—want any _good_ thing. The poor foolish heart may imagine a thousand wants; but God knows what we really want, and He will provide for ALL.
Thus, then, the camp is ready to move; but, strange to say, there is a departure from the order laid down in the opening of the book. The ark of the covenant, instead of reposing in the bosom of the camp, goes in the very front. In other words, Jehovah, instead of remaining in the centre of the congregation to be waited upon there, actually condescends, in His marvelous, illimitable grace, to do the work of an _avant-courier_ for His people.
But let us see what it is that leads to this touching display of grace. “And Moses said unto Hobab, the son of Raguel the Midianite, Moses’ father-in-law, ‘We are journeying unto the place of which the Lord said, I will give it you; come thou with us and we will do thee good; for the Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel.’ And he said unto him, ‘I will not go; but I will depart to mine own land, and to my kindred.’ And he said, ‘Leave us not, I pray thee, forasmuch as thou knowest how we are to encamp in the wilderness, and thou mayest be to us instead of eyes.’”
Now, if we did not know something of our own hearts, and the tendency thereof to lean on the creature rather than upon the living God, we might well marvel at the above. We might feel disposed to inquire, What could Moses possibly want with Hobab’s eyes? Was not Jehovah sufficient? Did not He know the wilderness? Would He suffer them to go astray? What of the cloud and the silver trumpet? were they not better than Hobab’s eyes? Why, then, did Moses seek for human aid? Alas! alas! we can but too well understand the reason. We all know, to our sorrow and loss, the tendency of the heart to lean upon something that our eyes can see. We do not like to occupy the ground of absolute dependence upon God for every step of the journey. We find it hard to lean upon an unseen arm. A Hobab that we can see inspires us with more confidence than the living God whom we cannot see. We move on with comfort and satisfaction when we possess the countenance and help of some poor fellow-mortal; but we hesitate, falter, and quail when called to move on in naked faith in God.
These statements may seem strong; but the question is, are they true? Is there a Christian who reads these lines that will not freely own that it is even so? We are all prone to lean upon an arm of flesh, and that, too, in the face of a thousand and one examples of the folly of so doing. We have proved, times without number, the vanity of all creature-confidences, and yet we _will_ confide in the creature. On the other hand, we have, again and again, proved the reality of leaning upon the Word and upon the arm of the living God. We have found that He has never failed us, never disappointed us—nay, that He has always done exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think; and yet we are ever ready to distrust Him, ever ready to lean upon any broken reed, and betake ourselves to any broken cistern.