Notes on the Book of Genesis. Charles Henry Mackintosh
of semi-barbarism, but quite unworthy of men living in an enlightened age of the world's history, when the museum and the telescope have put us in possession of facts of which the inspired penman knew nothing. What wisdom! What learning! Yea, rather, what folly! What nonsense! What total inability to grasp the scope and design of sacred scripture! It, assuredly, is not God's object to make us astronomers or geologists; or to occupy us with details which the microscope or the telescope lays before every school-boy. His object is to lead us into his presence, as worshippers, with hearts and understandings taught and duly governed by his Holy Word. But this would never do for the so-called philosopher, who, despising what he terms the vulgar and narrow-minded prejudices of the devout disciple of the Word, boldly seizes his telescope, and therewith scans the distant heavens, or travels into the deep recesses of earth in search of strata, formations and fossils—all of which, according to his account, greatly improve, if they do not flatly contradict, the inspired narrative.
With such "oppositions of science falsely so called," we have nothing to do. We believe that all true discoveries, whether "in the heavens above, in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth," will harmonize with that which is written in the word of God; and if they do not thus harmonize, they are perfectly contemptible in the judgment of every true lover of scripture. This gives great rest to the heart in a day like the present, so productive of learned speculations and high-sounding theories, which, alas! in too many instances, savor of rationalism and positive infidelity. It is most needful to have the heart thoroughly established as to the fulness, the authority, the completeness, the majesty, the plenary inspiration of the sacred volume. This will be found to be the only effectual safeguard against the rationalism of Germany and the superstition of Rome. Accurate acquaintance with, and profound subjection to, the Word, are the great desiderata of the present moment. May the Lord, in his great grace, abundantly increase in our midst both the one and the other.
"And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night." Here we have the two great symbols so largely employed throughout the Word. The presence of light makes the day; the absence thereof makes the night. Thus it is in the history of souls. There are "the sons of light" and "the sons of darkness." This is a most marked and solemn distinction. All upon whom the light of Life has shone—all who have been effectually visited by the Dayspring from on high—all who have received the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ—all such, whoever and wherever they may be, belong to the first class, are "the sons of light, and the sons of the day."
On the other hand, all who are still in nature's darkness, nature's blindness, nature's unbelief—all who have not yet received into their hearts, by faith, the cheering beams of the Sun of righteousness, all such are still wrapped in the shades of spiritual night, are "the sons of darkness," "the sons of the night."
Reader, pause and ask yourself, in the presence of the Searcher of hearts, to which of these two classes do you, at this moment, belong. That you belong to either the one or the other is beyond all question. You may be poor, despised, unlettered; but if, through grace, there is a link connecting you with the Son of God, "the Light of the world," then you are, in very deed, a son of the day, and destined, ere long, to shine in that celestial sphere, that region of glory, of which "the slain Lamb" will be the central sun, forever. This is not your own doing. It is the result of the counsel and operation of God himself, who has given you light and life, joy and peace, in Jesus, and his accomplished sacrifice. But if you are a total stranger to the hallowed action and influence of divine light, if your eyes have not been opened to behold any beauty in the Son of God, then, though you had all the learning of a Newton, though you were enriched with all the treasures of human philosophy, though you had drunk in with avidity all the streams of human science, though your name were adorned with all the learned titles which the schools and universities of this world could bestow, yet are you "a son of the night," "a son of darkness;" and, if you die in your present condition you will be involved in the blackness and horror of an eternal night. Do not, therefore, my friend, read another page, until you have fully satisfied yourself as to whether you belong to the "day" or the "night."
The next point on which I would dwell is the creation of lights. "And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven, to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days and years. And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven, to give light upon the earth: and it was so. And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also."
The sun is the great centre of light, and the centre of our system. Round him the lesser orbs revolve. From him, too, they derive their light. Hence, he may, very legitimately, be viewed as an apt symbol of Him, who is soon to arise with healing in His wings, to gladden the hearts of those that fear the Lord. The aptness and beauty of the symbol would fully appear to one who, having spent the night in watching, beholds the rising sun gilding, with his bright beams, the eastern sky. The mists and shades of night are all dispersed, and the whole creation seems to hail the returning orb of light. Thus will it be, by and by, when the Sun of righteousness arises. The shadows of night shall flee away, and the whole creation shall be gladdened by the dawning of "a morning without clouds,"—the opening of a bright and never-ending day of glory.
The moon, being in herself opaque, derives all her light from the sun. She always reflects the sun's light, save when earth and its influences intervene.[1] No sooner has the sun sunk beneath our horizon than the moon presents herself to receive his beams and reflect them back upon a dark world; or should she be visible during the day, she always exhibits a pale light, the necessary result of appearing in the presence of superior brightness. True it is, as has been remarked, the world sometimes intervenes; dark clouds, thick mists, and chilling vapors, too, arise from earth's surface, and hide from our view her silvery light.
Now, as the sun is a beautiful and an appropriate symbol of Christ, so the moon strikingly reminds us of the Church. The fountain of her light is hidden from view. The world seeth him not, but she sees him; and she is responsible to reflect his beams upon a benighted world. The world has no other way in which to learn any thing of Christ but by the Church. "Ye," says the inspired apostle, "are our epistle, … known and read of all men." And again, "Forasmuch as ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle of Christ." (2 Cor. iii. 2, 3.)
What a responsible place! How earnestly should she watch against every thing that would hinder the reflection of the heavenly light of Christ, in all her ways! But how is she to reflect this light? By allowing it to shine upon her, in its undimmed brightness. If the Church only walked in the light of Christ, she would, assuredly, reflect his light; and this would ever keep her in her proper position. The light of the moon is not her own. So it is with the Church. She is not called to set herself before the world. She is a simple debtor to reflect the light which she herself receives. She is bound to study, with holy diligence, the path which he trod, while down here; and by the energy of the Holy Ghost, who dwells in her, to follow in that path. But, alas! earth with its mists, its clouds, and its vapors, intervenes, and hides the light and blots the epistle. The world can see but little of the traits of Christ's character in those who call themselves by his name; yea, in many instances they exhibit an humbling contrast, rather than a resemblance. May we study Christ more prayerfully, that so we may copy him more faithfully.
The stars are distant lights. They shine in other spheres, and have little connection with this system, save that their twinkling can be seen. "One star differeth from another star in glory." Thus will it be in the coming kingdom of the Son. He will shine forth in living and everlasting lustre. His body, the Church, will faithfully reflect his beams on all around; while the saints individually shall shine in those spheres which a righteous Judge shall allot to them, as a reward of faithful service during the dark night of his absence. This thought should animate us to a more ardent and vigorous pursuit after conformity to our absent Lord. (See Luke xix. 12–19.)
The lower orders of creation are next introduced. The sea and the earth are made to teem with life. Some may feel warranted in regarding the operations of each successive day, as foreshadowing the various dispensations, and their great characteristic principles of action. I would only remark, as to this, that there is great need, when handling the word