The supreme promise.
"I am with thee." This assurance is the application of that truth of God's infinite superiority to all idols on which the prophet has been, sometimes so seriously, and sometimes so scornfully, dwelling. Here is the argument—God is God alone. He is your God. He is with you. It is a promise specially adapted to the apparently helpless and hopeless condition of Israel in Babylon. There was no relief to the darkness that hung about them, but there was this comfort in the darkness—the almighty, all-wise, all-creating, all-controlling God, was with them, and their trust in him was security for their safety, and for their coming out into the light by-and-by, for he was their God. Matthew Henry paraphrases the text in this way, "Fear thou not, for I am with thee, not only within call, but present with thee; be not dismayed at the power of those who are against thee, for I am thy God, and engaged for thee. Art thou weak? I will strengthen thee. Art thou destitute of friends? I will keep thee in time of need. Art thou ready to sink, ready to fall? I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness, that right hand which is full of righteousness, in dispensing rewards and punishments." The verse, setting before us such varied assurances of Divine help, upholding, and strengthening, seems to bid us think of all that the presence of God with us may be thought to include. If he is, indeed, our God, then—
I. HE KNOWS US. We often distinguish between the outside person, who is interested in us and knows about us, and the friend in intimate personal relations, who knows us. We are permitted to think of God as the Friend in close fellowship, from whom none of our secrets are hid. He is the safe Friend, of whose wise help we are always assured, and in whom we may fully trust, because of the knowledge which his love brings.
II. HE PROVIDES FOR US. This is the work of him who is our God, and on whom we are dependent. But it is precious to be assured that he is in gracious relations with us, and will do for us his good work.
III. HE DEFENDS US. If with us, then "greater is he who is with us than all who can be against us." "What terror can confound me, with God at my right hand?"
IV. HE CORRECTS US. When we know ourselves, and our own frailties and inability to walk alone, we find that God, who can chasten and will chasten, who "corrects in measure," and "scourges every son whom he receives," is the God in whose constant presence we can rejoice.
V. HE GUIDES US. If with us, he must go first, for he is our God. And the darkness does not matter if he is first—on before, only just before. It must be a plain path, and a safe path, when we simply follow his footsteps.
VI. HE REDEEMS US. This is the large word which embraces all the material and spiritual needs we can know. Israel wanted redemption from captivity: God gave that. Israel wanted redemption from idolatry: God gave that. Israel even wanted redemption from "bad self," and, it they would have it so, God would give even that.—R.T.
The supreme prayer.
"Lord, help me;" responded to by God in the gracious assurance, "I will help thee, saith the Lord, and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel." Likening Israel to a worm, reminds us of its despised and depressed condition in captivity. "However weak and despised and trodden underfoot thou mayest be, in thy captivity and exile, yet fear not, I will help thee." It is a painful suggestion of hopelessness and helplessness that no cry can now rise but the brief, intense, "Lord, help me." And yet it is full of hope that any cry at all can rise, and that, even in despair, men are turning yearning eyes toward God. Of this we may be assured, when man cries, out of the depths, his cry, "Lord, help me," God will answer, out of his heavens, "I will help thee." The associations of the ancient goel, or family avenger, may be used in illustration, as the word translated "Redeemer" is in the original Goel. And the certainty of response to prayer by him who liveth, and is our God and Father, may be illustrated by an incident in the life of Luther. Usually he was of a cheerful temperament, but he was subject to occasional fits of severe depression. Once, when nothing seemed to avail, he was induced to leave home for a few days, in the hope that he might recover his cheerfulness; but he returned with a cloudy and dejected countenance. How great was his surprise, on entering the house, to find his wife seated in the middle of the room, attired in black garments, and with a mourning cloak thrown over her, while she pressed to her eyes her handkerchief, as if weeping bitterly! He eagerly inquired the cause of her distress, which she seemed loth at first to communicate; but on his again imploring her to speak, she answered, "Only think, dear doctor, our Father in heaven is dead! Judge if I have not cause for my grief." Upon this, immediately comprehending her riddle, he laughed, and embracing her, said, "You are right, dear Kate; I am acting as if there were no God in heaven;" and from that hour his melancholy left him. Only two points are suggested for elaboration and illustration.
I. PRAYER NEVER REACHES ITS FULL INTENSITY WHILE IT CAN BE SET IN HUMAN WORDS. We say the same of grief. It never hurts, or imperils reason or life, while it can find expression. Silent grief hurts. A man is not utterly broken down while he can make a prayer and express his wants.
II. PRAYER REACHES ITS INTENSITY WHEN IT CAN BE NO MORE THAN A VOICELESS CRY. A simple "Lord, help me." When the soul is quite full there can be no utterance. A man must go into the presence of God, and leave him to read heart, thought, and desire. Such experiences only come at times into any life. Yet they are the times when we are most really, most wholly, cast on God. Here is a sacred paradox—our best times of prayer are the times when we cannot pray.—R.T.