Gooding, David: 2 - The Validity of Typology

As I said last night, I want to spend a few minutes of this session, ten or so, continuing on the first topic, that is the validity of typology. Not to go through all the notes that I have provided in that, in that, for that workshop, but just to deal a little bit more fully with one of the points that I tried to raise yesterday. And then when we've done that, we shall pass to the other topic for the second workshop. I was saying yesterday, therefore, that it ha- I have found it myself helpful to notice the very many different levels of significance that can attach to one and the same thing in the Old Testament. And I listed some of the various significances of the rite of circumcision that the New Testament points out to us did in fact exist in Old Testament time. Look, if you will, at page two of the notes on typology and section four. Very obvious example of a double level of meaning. In Romans four verse three we are told that Abraham was justified by faith, and his case is appealed to as the determining precedent for us. When the Bible tells us that Abraham was justified by faith, that is not, of course, a type. That is an actual instance of a literal man walking on two legs like we do, who actually believed God and was justified, just like we are justified. And it forms not a type, but a piece of case law, as the lawyers would say. But then when Paul comes down to verses tw- seventeen to twenty five in that same chapter, he draws a parallel at a different level between Abraham and us. Abraham was justified by faith. We are justified by faith, so the precedent says. But when Abraham was justified by faith, what exactly did faith mean? Well, it meant believing God. Ah, but believing God over what? Well, actually, in the context, God had said to Abraham that God would give him seed. And Romans four goes on to point out how that involved Abraham's faith. For he considered his body, not as the King James says, he didn't consider his body, he had a bit more sense. He did consider his body. And it was as good as dead, and he considered that Sarah was beh- b- beyond the age of childbearing. And in spite of it, and with a body going into degeneration and apparent decay, he persisted in believing in God. It involved believing in a God who could call the things that are not as though they were, a God that could bring life out of death. Now that's faith, says Paul. Do I have to believe, then, in a God that can give me a child? Well, that would be a little irrelevant in my case anyway. So, what does faith mean to me? I mean, if the case law precedent is going to say that you have to believe God to be justified, isn't the faith going to be the same? And now at this level, you see, yes, basically the faith is the same. But what am I asked to believe? Well, I am asked to believe in a God who raised up our Lord Jesus from the dead, who was delivered for our offenses and raised again for our justification. The same principle involved, but over a different set of facts. Believing in the same God, the same power that could call life out of death, in Abram's case, giving life through his body and Sarah's body, both of them dead in the, in the technical sense. In our case, believing in a God who raised Jesus, our Lord, from the dead. And it seems to me that possibly a suitable term to put over that second part would be that Abram's case is a paradigm for us. The New Testament does appeal to such paradigms, doesn't it? Says Paul talking to the Corinthians, thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn. A piece of legislation that, when you first find it in Old Testament, looks to be very humanitarian, but concerned with literal oxen that go on four legs. And the principle is established that the ox who labors hard at threshing the corn must be left free, unmuzzled, to bow his head every now and again and take a mouthful of the corn that it is threshing. But Paul applies it at an altogether higher level. Does God care for oxen? Well, in his Hebrew manner, Paul says, well, no, he means not simply that. He's not denying that it had a validity at its time. It did refer to literal buffalo, uh, oxen with real horns. But now the same principle is applied at a different level. Now we think of oxens that go on two legs, namely missionaries and things, and and uh, they go to work, not trading out literal corn, but you see, they go to work, and the paradigmatic principle applies that they must not be muzzled. They must be free to live upon the work that they are doing for the Lord. Again, it's not a type, it's a paradigm established by Israel's legal code. I made the distinction yesterday, as you saw, between type and prototype. You may not agree with my distinction, and there's no harm done. I'm probably wrong anyway, but as a kind of a practical distinction, I find it helpful, and certainly as a little bit of armor plating against the barbs that come my way from the very learned, you'll see, who say, ah, the kite broke down there, my boy, didn't it? And my reply is, but if you'd have looked closer, that you would have seen it wasn't a kite to start with. It was a prototype. Meaning that as you trace the ways of God in redemption with men, you will see similar patterns emerging for the plain simple reason that sin is sin in any age. It tends to be very monotonous, you know, and unoriginal. Sin is sin is sin. And basically the principles of redemption are the same in all ages. And therefore you will find, as you read these stories of God's early phases of redemption with his people, you will see in their history certain basic principles working that subsequently you will find working at a higher level in redemption as we know it today. And I have suggested under on page two there, three F, a very interesting prototype that we find in the first book of Samuel. And I'm just going to relate to you the historic facts. If you can see patterns, the similarities and pattern with anything else, well, you'll be all the richer. But I'm just going to content myself with relating the historical facts that actually happened. You see, the way God used to put David as king of Israel, to impose David on his fellow men as king, are very interesting. God himself, of course, is king in the ultimate and absolute sense. He doesn't ask anybody's permission. He is king. But when it comes to imposing one man upon his fellows as king, that's a different story. So now Samuel tells us that there was a king called Saul, anointed of the Lord, but he disobeyed and fell into grievous rebellion, and God determined that therefore his dynasty should not be established. God, moreover, determined to appoint David as king, but observe the very curious way he did it. God had, if I may say so reverently, some options. He could have destroyed Saul and then appointed David as king. There would have been no difficulty. Alternatively, he could have let Saul live on to his last days, die a natural death, and then anoint David, and there would have been no difficulty. And God chose neither option. But is there something that at first sight is peculiar? He didn't destroy Saul, but while Saul was still living and was still king, he had Samuel go and anoint David to be king. Well, when Samuel first heard it, he had the horrors. But Lord, he said, how can I do that? If Saul were to hear of this, he'd have my head off. It's high treason, surely. You know, if our gracious Queen Elizabeth, have you heard of her? If she was on a visit to the Australians to keep them happy, as sometimes she does, and when she came home, she found the Archbishop of Canterbury had, uh, anointed Arthur Scargill, president of the miners' workers, to be king in her place. Margaret would be upset. She'd say, I haven't died yet. Oh yes. Is that the name of our... Oh yes. As Stan said, I always thought the colonies were more interested on our royalty than we are, but never mind. What did you say it was? Elizabeth. God had Samuel, nonetheless, anoint David, but didn't immediately impose him on the throne. That That ra- raised all sorts of questions. Some people, when they saw the wonders that David could do by dint way of slaying Goliath, for instance, began to love him. Jonathan, Crown Prince, began to love him and took off his belt and gave it to David in his kingly armor, recognizing David's superiority, and that one day David would be king. But Saul got jealous. And David said to Jonathan, you know your father is determined to kill me. No, no, no, no, said Jonathan. No, my father is a bit touchy sometimes, but he doesn't mean any harm, and you're not going to be rejected, David, that's for sure. Yes, I am, said David. So Jonathan put the whole thing to the test, didn't he? And there came that poignant moment when Jonathan came out in the field with his bow and arrows and shot the arrow to indicate to the Lord's Messiah that Messiah must go. And the Messiah went, didn't he? I'm talking history, I'm not talking New Testament, don't get wrong ideas. Messiah went and fell into the hands of sinful men, the Philistines, didn't he? You say it was madness. Yes, I say, yes, looked like it, didn't it? Why ever did he let himself fall into the hands of the Philistines when he had Goliath's sword in his hand? You say, madness. Well, yes, but he had a choice. He could have used the sword one night to cut Saul's head off, couldn't he? And had he done so, many in Israel would have shouted a ra. But he wouldn't cut Saul's head off. And he fell into the Philistines. And then he went down into the cave. Then he came up out again, out of the, out of the cave, much to Saul's disannoyance, because Saul thought he thought, thought he'd seen the last of him. But he came up out of the cave and came back to Israel and presented himself to various cities, Keila here and other cities, Ziph and whatnot, which embarrassed them. He showed he could deliver them from their enemies, the Philistines. And the question now was, would they transfer their loyalty from Saul to David? They were given this further chance to decide, weren't they? And when Saul had particularly helped one particular city, when David had helped one particular city, then he inquired of the Lord, saying, now Saul is coming, will this city deliver me up into the hands of Saul? And God said, I'm afraid they will. So after this period when David had come back from the Philistines and come back from the cave and was now presenting himself again to his nation, finally the nation officially and for the last time rejected him. And what happened then? The Messiah, the anointed, went to the Gentiles, didn't he? What happened then? Well, the Gentiles came and they overran Saul and slaughtered him. And there we might leave the story completely, mightn't we? Didn't we know a thing or two about the New Testament? And how has God gone around imposing his son, the great son of David, upon man as his Messiah? Well, he had him anointed. He anointed Jesus of Nazareth with power. But he didn't enforce him, did he? But demonstrated his power to save. And many there were in those early days who fell in love with him, people like Simon Peter, who thought that the nation would receive him forthwith. And when our blessed Lord said, I must go to Jerusalem and I shall be rejected by the chief priests and scribes. No, no, no, no, no, said Simon. Get that out of your head. You're going to be. You're going to be received. But no, he wasn't. And the Messiah had to go, even as it was written of him. And he was delivered up into the hands of men. And when Michael the Archangel saw Jesus Christ, God's son, delivered up into the hands of men as though he were a helpless victim and pegged to a tree, I think Michael must have thought that the deity had gone mad. He died and was buried. And the high priests were jubilant. They thought they'd seen the last of him, but he came back, didn't he? And presented himself through his apostles to Israel, and they had to make up their mind what they were going to do. Many did trust him, but the nation finally said no, and Messiah went to the Gentiles and was largely lost to Israel. And the Gentiles came up, and they destroyed Jerusalem. Well, you have your choice. You may think I'm fanciful. I haven't read said that one thing is the picture of the other, have I? But who couldn't see it? And that seems to me that the correspondence is there because the principles of redemption are the same. Though in the Old Testament they operate at one lowly level, and later on they operate at a higher level. Now let me turn to the charge once more, that if we go on like this, seeing types and prototypes and what have you in Old Testament, the danger is that we shall overlook the plain, straightforward, practical meaning of the text. And to be sure, there is a danger there, isn't there? I cite as my lesson Genesis twenty two, and I declare at once that I do believe that the thing is a prototype. You may like to call it a type, if you please, of how the Father gave the Son and spared not his own Son. How often have we listened to it with great profit, as our teaching brethren have expounded it to us? Ah, but says the other school of thought, nowhere does the Bible say Genesis twenty two was meant to be a type. And if you keep on talking about Genesis twenty two as a type of the Father's giving the Son, you are forgetting the plain, straightforward, and exceedingly practical teaching that Genesis 22 was meant to put across. And what is that? Well, in the first instance, it is the great lesson on justification by works, is it not? And our brother James, in his chapter two calls our attention to it urgently. We who believe in justification by faith and preach it often, we sorely need the straightforward practical lesson of Genesis twenty two, that where people profess faith in God, they must be prepared to justify their profession of faith by their works. Was not our father Abraham justified by his works when he offered up Isaac upon the altar? He was. That is its number one practical lesson. And to be sure, when you read it, do, uh, notice what it says, because it doesn't square very well with that popular maxim that we are justified by faith before, uh, God and justified by works before men. That won't fit Genesis twenty two, will it? Because when Abraham offered his son upon the altar and was justified by his works, there weren't any other men around to see it. And more than that, when the angel called out of heaven in the name of God, said he to Abraham, now I know that thou fearest me. Not now Sarah knows, or now the Philistines know, but now I know. Say, but wait a minute, God knew all the time, surely. He knows the end from the beginning. Well, of course he does. There are different levels of knowledge even in the Most High, are there not? There's the knowledge that is foreknowledge, and there is the knowledge by actual experience. No good my saying when I come under tests, and I'm required to justify the profession of my faith by my works. Look here, God, you don't need to put me through this exam. I, you know, I mean, you know. God will say, don't be impertinent. I need to know by actual experience. God knew I would be born one day. I'm glad he wasn't content with that kind of knowledge, aren't you? Well, perhaps you're not, but I am. As you'll see. I'm glad he insisted on knowing me by actual practical experience. I was born. What does this business of justification mean by faith? Well, let James tell us. For James also believes in both justification by faith and justification by works. And when Abraham offered his son upon the altar, says James, then that scripture was fulfilled, which says, Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him for righteousness. Genesis fifteen fulfilled in Genesis 22. How? Why, the issue at stake was whether Abraham believed God. Genesis fifteen, Abraham believed God. And faith meant believing God and nothing else. Not his own efforts, not Sarah's efforts. They tried them, and it went astray. It meant believing God and only God, staking everything upon God. The years went by, and the promised seed was eventually born. And all Abram's future lay in that seed, did it? Wait a minute, says God. Abram, you say you believe me. Tell me now, where is your faith, Abram? Your faith for the future. In me? Or in Isaac? Actually, get better get it settled, Abram. Your faith's in me, isn't it? And solely in me. And please, Abram, give me Isaac. Abram demonstrated that his faith was in God and only in God. And the scripture was fulfilled, which says Abraham believed, and it was counted to him for righteousness. Justification by works is the demonstration by our works that our faith is in God. I would be the last, so I would claim, to wish to obscure that exceedingly practical lesson. I would want to enforce it, however, and say that James is not being arbitrary. Let us for a moment look at the actual text of scripture and see in what context in the book of Genesis that delightful story is given us. Look, if you will, at chapter twenty one of Genesis. And to verses twenty two following. They are a prelude to what shall be told us in chap- the next chapter twenty two. At twenty one twenty two, the king of the Philistines comes to Abram and says, now look here, Abraham, God is with thee in all that thou doest. Now therefore swear unto me here by God that thou wilt not deal falsely with me, nor with my son, nor with my son's son, but according to the kindness that I have done unto thee, thou shalt do unto me and to the land wherein thou hast sojourned. So here was the Philistine king coming to Abraham to seek security for his son. You see, you should not forget that Abraham was a great sheikh. He was the man of faith par excellence, and therefore he was exceedingly wealthy. And he had so many servants that he could raise an army from them and challenge the army of a collection of kings. And to have a sheikh of that tremendous power and economic wealth wandering around the borders of your town could give you fright at night if you weren't careful. And now Abimelech has got a son, do you see? And like fathers are when they have sons and are concerned for their son's future, Abimelech comes to Abram, and he said, Abram, now God is with you, but now would you think it would be nice because if we could come to some agreement, you see, Abraham, because I'm thinking of my son, and where can I find security for my son, you see, Abraham, and my son's son and all my future? I want some security, Abraham. Would you please swear an oath that you will not evilly entreat my son? Said Abraham, yes, of course I will. And Abram swore an oath, granting the Philistine king security for his son. And it was called Beesheba in Hebrew, Beersheba, if you like, the well of the oath, concerned with security. Now listen to the story. Where shall Abraham find security for himself and for his son and for his future? Ah, Genesis twenty two has another oath, hasn't it? Surely, blessing, I will bless thee, and multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the sand of the sea and the stars of the heaven. His oath. And the writer to the Hebrews picks up the story, doesn't he? And where shall we find security? Look, my brethren, says the writer to the Hebrews, God willing to show unto the heirs of the promise the unchangeability of his counsel, interposed with an oath that we might have strong consolation who have fled for refuge, and a hope that is like an anchor that will never drift. We have find that security in God, in his word, and in his oath. So chapter two according to the New- chapter twenty two according to the New Testament, is about where Abraham and his seed found security. And how did they find it? Where would you find security in this world? And security for your future. Because when Abraham, in response to God's command and invitation, took Isaac up the mountain and bound him on the altar, and as an elderly man was left with nothing. Save God. And God's promise. Oh, my brother, my sister, you know it better than I, you'll find security nowhere else. But in the mount of the Lord it shall be seen, when I stand stripped naked of everything I've ever hoped for, and all I'm left with is God and his word. Then, praise God, I have utter and absolute security. And we have Hebrews six authority for saying so. Can we not move further? I suspect if I came to you in the morning hours and knocked and woke you up and knocked you on the head with a brick and then said, tell me, how are you so sure of security in God? I think I'd hear you say, he who's... Did you say that? Spared not his own son, ah, but delivered him up for us all. How shall he not with him freely give us all things? Our Christian friend, it is the fact, forget your typology for a moment, it is the fact you find your security not only in God, his oath, and his word, you find it in the fact that the Father gave the Son to be the savior of the world. Is it not so? Say what they like, your Christian instinct will then as dr- lead you as you read that story again, not denying its literal level of meaning, but your Christian instinct will make you think of another father, and another son, and another mountain, and another sacrifice. It is a prototype, and the one level of meaning does not contradict the other, but the one is built on top of the other. One more thing about the book of Genesis, and then we'll leave. In the epistle to the Galatians, in chapter four of that epistle, Paul comes round to using the story of Hagar and Ishmael as an illustration, as an allegory. And he takes the words spoken by Sarah to Abraham and confirmed by God. Cast out the bondwoman and her son, for the son of the bondwoman shall not inherit with the free. Paul takes it as an authoritative word, indicating and illustrating the principle that when it comes to salvation, you cannot mix works with grace, and when it comes to our great inheritance, what is more, you cannot mix works with grace. Therefore, the law must go, and salvation and inheritance be simply by grace. And he says, you know, Hagar and Ishmael, they represent the Jerusalem that is now, which is in bondage with her children, and Sarah, she represents the Jerusalem which is above, which is the mother of us all. Now, if you read between the lines, it upsets some commentators. Tut, tut, they say. What shall we say now? Well, perhaps Paul was a little bit rabbinic, and he was influenced by rabbinic methods of interpretation, and now and again you can forgive a man if he indulges in it, and, uh, well, well, well, but perhaps it wouldn't convince us, but it would convince the Jews of his day. I mean, we don't argue that way. What's the pity? Uh, and uh, you'll see, uh, and and therefore, really, don't you go copying Paul, whatever you do. But is he so wildly off being? However, we may ask, however, did Paul get it into his head that Hagar and Ishmael had anything to do with it anyway? Let's look at another verse in the previous chapter before we return to Genesis. The chapter is Galatians three and the verse nineteen: What then is the law? It was added because of transgressions till the seed should come to whom the promise hath been made. Grasp that and let your mind now roam back to the book of Genesis. And here we could at least do Paul the favor, couldn't we, of approaching Genesis from a literary point of view, and not taking a story out of its context and arbitrarily making a type of it, but having the grace to look at the book as a whole and ask things about its literary order and construction and the thought flow from one narrative to the next, if there be any. And if we are at pains to do that, we shall notice what I have put to you on this sheet, and number five two. In Genesis fifteen, says the history, Abraham was given the promise of the seed. But then in chapter sixteen, we have the incident of Hagar and Ishmael. It happened like this. Sarah was at breakfast one morning with Abram, and over the marmalade she said, Abram. He said, what, my dear? She said, I've been thinking. You have, Sarah, said he. Well, she said, you know that promise that God gave us? Yes, we're going to have a son. Well, she says, you know, Abe dear, the Lord has overlooked something. Oh, really? Well, she said, I'm barren. And what is more, he's acted a little contradictiously, if I may say so, Abram, because the Lord has closed up my womb, and that doesn't make sense, does it? One minute he promises that we're going to have a child, and the next minute he's closed up my womb, so that doesn't make sense, really. But she says, I have an idea, Abram, I could get the Lord out of this difficulty. You could, Sarah? Yes. Oh, well, that's a bright idea, said he. What is it? Well, here's my handmaiden, you know, the Egyptian Hagar. You take her. That's how ancient women did in that part of the world anyway. So that was what was done. And Abram took the slave girl, and she conceived. But then the trouble started. Oh, when this slave girl saw that she was going to bear Abram the promised seed, she began to get ideas about her station, ah. And when Sarah said, you shall peel the potatoes, she put on her razing graces and said, I'm carrying Abram's child. And Sarah couldn't stick it, and she made life so rough that, uh, Hagar, uh, fled, didn't she? And the angel of the Lord found Hagar and said, my dear, this won't do. You can't flee in your condition. You must go back to Abram's household. I promise you you'll have a son, and, uh, I shall bless him. And then God had the frankness to tell her what kind of a son that would be. He said he'll be a wild ass of a man. Every man's hand against him and every his hand against every man. And so back she went into Abram's household, and Ishmael was born. Do you know, I sometimes fall to imagining the scene, many scenes there were in Abram's tent in those days, when this wild ass of a toddler and a young chap grew up. La, life was difficult for Abram and Sarah. There were little scenes that embarrassed all the guests, you know, but in spite of much discipline, how will you tame a wild ass? And Abram had to learn that the works of the flesh, the mind of the flesh, is enmity against God. It is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. What a lesson it was, wasn't it? So God sent Hagar and Ishmael into Abram's tent, and that that's how it was, until you come to chapter twenty one. And chapter twenty one begins, verses one to seven, with the birth of the promised seed. It's told us in seven verses. And immediately the promised seed is born and has grown up a few years. Chapter twenty one, in the very next story, seven to twenty one, tells us that, uh, uh, Hagar said to Abram, turn out the bondwoman and her son. Abram didn't want to do it, and God said, yes, Abram, now you will do it. For the promised seed had come. And Hagar and Ishmael, out they went. And the next chapter, twenty two, tells us that the promised seed was sacrificed. Whether you agree with him or not, and you better because you're supposed to be a Christian. Can you see no parallel? In Genesis, Hagar and Ishmael, and Ishmael was in a Abram's house until the promised seed came. And then he was get driven out. And then the promised seed died. Paul is drawing the analogy now at a higher level. The law was given, but it wasn't the final answer to subduing the flesh, was it? Nor bringing man justification by faith, nor the inheritance, but it was added to teach Israel lessons about the incorrigibility of the flesh. And it was there until the promised seed should. When he came, it was finished. And what happened next? The promised seed was sacrificed, wasn't it? Paul isn't talking nonsense, nor even rabbinics. Paul is basing himself on the structure and the thought flow and the narrative flow of inspired holy scripture. One other little literary observation. If you will now turn back to Genesis twenty two. When the promised seed was sacrificed, Abraham came down the mountain, verse nineteen, and he came back to dwell at the well of the oath where was his security. And then come verses twenty to twenty four, an a small genealogy telling us of the family of Abram back down in Paddan Aram and Ur of Chaldees. Came to pass after these things that it was told Abram, saying, behold, Milcah, she also has borne children unto thy brother Nahor, and there's the list of them. Now let me ask you a literary question. Why do you suppose the author of Genesis has suddenly put a rather pedestrian genealogy at that point? Would you have done it if you were a writer with any sense of climax and literary style? What? A world-shaking story like Abraham's offering of Isaac, and when you come to the funny little genealogy, you say, well, it was knocking around and he thought people would be interested in it, perhaps. I should have thought you held a higher view of inspirations than that. So what is that there for? Well, at least this it will remind you of, that you had a genealogy like this before, didn't you? I- I- in chapter ten. You will say, uh, rather chapter eleven, when Abram came out of Ur of Chaldees and eventually moved on to Ha- from Haran out, and the list of the family is given of the Gentiles, out of which Abram was called. And there came at that moment in history the beginnings of a movement in history that was to be of incalculable significance in the affairs of men, the coming out of the first Hebrew out of the Gentile nation. You know, typology, this is, this is history, and an exceedingly important part as evidence for our faith, the ways of God to start the, the Hebrew nation by bringing Abraham out of the Gentiles, that very big movement. Ah, yes. And the promised seed, the old, old Ishmael was put there, wasn't he, until the promised seed came, and when the promised seed came, Ishmael was cast out, and then the promised seed was sacrificed. And at that point, God says, remember those Gentiles, don't you? What about them? Well, carry on with the story. Sarah died, and Abram said to himself, you know, my son Isaac is getting rather old by the time he was married. Where would I get a bride for my son from? Not round here, of course. And then the thought struck him. Wonder if there'd be a girl back amongst the Gentile nation, the people that were my relatives one, that would be prepared to come out and be a bride for my son. And so he suggested it to his servants, and his servant went all the way back to Abram's Gentile relatives, and there came out the second big movement out of the Gentiles to be a bride for Abram's son. Well, of course it did. And God who knows the end from the beginning, oh, what a wonderful thing this is, the emergence of Israel out of the Gentiles, the giving of the law unto... came, and with the sacrifice of the promised seed, there was opened the door for a second coming out of the Gentiles, the like of which is utterly unprecedented. Millions of Gentiles called out to be what? A bride for the promised seed. I'm not imagining things. If you don't like typology, call it literary criticism, men. But the book of Genesis is very carefully written by a literary author who knows what he's doing and runs his themes very carefully, with their minor and major climaxes and their harkings back to earlier themes. And therefore it comes about that there are other patterns in this book, aren't there? When the Jews looked at the story of Abraham and Isaac, even Jews could see it had special meaning. And to this very present day, there are Jews that would tell you that Israel is to be saved by the blood of Isaac. You say, what do you mean? Isaac wasn't ever, uh, killed. Ah, but he offered himself willingly to be killed, and by his obedience he earned merit by which Israel shall be saved. And the rabbis call that chapter the Akedar, the binding of Isaac through the merit of Isaac's obedience, they hope Israel shall be saved. They're not altogether on the wrong track, are they? Ninety percent on the wrong track. We could tell them about another Isaac, whose obedience to the Father. So, oh, but here we're in Genesis again. For the first man, Adam, by the disobedience of the one, the many made sinners. And God can't wait to tell you the rest of the story. It would be a long time to wait for Calvary to actually happen, wouldn't it? God couldn't contain himself. And there in history is God's answer in prototype. If by the obedience of the one, the disobedience of one, the many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall the many be made righteous. Delightful literary style the man has got, hasn't he? Whoever he was, was it Moses that wrote Genesis? And as for you gospel preachers, huh, what a lovely story that is. If you weren't looking around for patterning. What do I mean by patterning? Well, stories that are different stories, but when you look at them, uh, sort of repeat the pattern. In chapter three, there's the story of the proposal made by a serpent to a woman. It went like this. You know, you could rise in the world if you wanted to. God is all for keeping you down, you see. If only you took that tree, you would be as God, or you'd rise in the universe, my dear woman, says he. And she took the fruit. And far from rising in the universe, she found she was naked, to her shame. And God can't wait, can he? It will be a long while to wait for the New Testament and for talk of bride of the Lamb, but he's got a story. And this is the proposal of the servant to a woman. Comes in Genesis twenty four, doesn't it? And the servant is saying to the woman, my dear, my master is exceedingly rich, and he's got one son, and he's given him all that he has. The proposal is, would you care to be bride to my master's son? Oh, what a story. And if you can't see that's a type, well, forget it. But let me just remind you of the New Testament. God's answer to Satan's lie is a story that runs like this. God has one son, and into his hand he's given all that he has. Oh, dear sinner, would you not be saved? And would you not care to be part of the wife and bride of the lamb? And when she said yes, the servant bought out clothes, of course he did, and he clothed the woman and undid all the nakedness of that early day. Yes. I believe, my brethren, in the inspiration of scripture, and if I may give a public testimony, and it's a simple one, the thing that has kept me through my university days against the blasts of modernism has not been theories of inspiration, good as they may be. The thing that has kept me in my faith that God's word is inspired is that when you treat it seriously as literature here, the thing is delightful as literature, marvelously and superbly organized, and with it carrying a message that in its exactitude and wonder is self-evidently of God. And now I have left myself full a half a minute to deal with the whole of Chronicles. But then you'll say, I've given you the notes, haven't I? And what I intended to do in giving you these notes is to offer a little brotherly help to put into the pool of your thinking the next time you come to study First and Second Chronicles. For if you are like many other people, you find some of these old, long historical books very difficult to cope with. There's an odd verse that shouts at you here, an odd story somewhere else. Uh, I guarantee almost that there's no man here that has preached on every chapter of First and Second Chronicles without fail all the way through. And if there has, I will pay penance by going without my ice cream at supper. What are the books about? I suggest to you that one way, it's not the only way, is it? One way of coming to what they are about is, in fact, to follow the literary method. To ask where the book begins, and then to ask where it ends. Most books have a beginning, and most have an end as well. And as Aristotle long since observed, a book, if it's going to be a well written, is going to have an end and a be- a beginning and an end and a middle. Fine secret of literary construction, meaning that you start in some logical place that is naturally a beginning, and you work to the middle logically. And from the middle that, uh, faces both ways, of course, because it's sort of middle is, you proceed logically to the end, and an end is a place that is a logical end. And it is so constructed that you couldn't take a bit out and it would be okay. If you could do that, it's a very badly written story. Does God know how to write? As well as Aristotle? Chronicles has a beginning, and First Chronicles, let's just content ourselves not to be too greedy. Uh, First Chronicles has a beginning, and First Chronicles has an end. And it sums up the most of, uh, Old Testament history, not quite all, but most. It begins with the first man, Adam, and you know, in his last chapter it says that Solomon sat on the throne of the Lord. Really? Isn't that a little bit of an exaggeration? Solomon sat on the throne of the Lord? Yes, so says Chronicles. And when Solomon, when man in the person of Solomon sat on the throne of the Lord, it was the beginning of an age of bliss and glory and plenty such as the earth hadn't witnessed since the fall. Ever after, Israel looked back to the reign of Solomon as the tip top of their experience. Gold, well, so much that silver was well scarce anything, and nature yielded up her secrets to Solomon's wisdom, from the hyssop to the cedar, and music was introduced and developed, and elmug trees and goodness knows what else. And Solomon's wisdom in things natural and political brought the nations of the world to the court, and they brought the riches and glory and honor of the kings of the nations into it, I mean Jerusalem. For Israel, it was an age of peace and bliss and plenty. A golden age. What a story. It began with Adam, man, and it ends with man on the throne of the Lord. And you believe that old story because you believe a bigger one, don't you? You believe the history of the human race that began with Adam, and you'll tell me now, in the fuller sense than ever was true of Solomon, there is a man, his name Jesus. He used to work in, in, in a carpenter shop, and already he sits on the throne of the Lord. Isn't that so? One day there shall dawn the great millennial age of bliss and a wonderful eternity under him who is wiser than Solomon. That started the message already, hasn't it? And you say, how did, ah, ah, wait a minute, tell me, how do you get from Adam to man sitting on the throne of the Lord? Well, Chronicles says, follow my literary structure, you'll see how man got from Adam, and by what stages, and by what spiritual progress, and then by what mistakes he made, and by what moral and stages of moral and spiritual progress did man develop until man born of Adam and man's fallen race came at last to sit upon the throne of the Lord. Well, I've mapped out some stages for you. They follow the literary stages of the book. They're not my stages, they are the author's stages. Examine the references and you'll find they are literary markers put down by the author. And within each stage, you will find certain prominent things. Try and observe the patterning, how the pattern, uh, uh, per- perseveres through the book. But more than that, I cannot say, though I have indicated here and there what some of the meaning in the stages is. And when we read that, we shall think of big things in history. How will man eventually reach the throne of the Lord? And there will be lessons for us as believers individually, and lessons for Israel, and lessons for the church, and great hope for mankind. But I leave it with you as simply a little brotherly contribution to your next study of the book of Chronicles. Shall we pray? God, we thank thee for thy holy word, for thy divine and masterly skill in presenting thy message, and for opening our eyes to see, here and there at least, the watermark of divine inspiration. Beyond all the brilliance and the attractiveness of thy holy word, we thank thee that these things are real. These are the true sayings of God. For thus buttressing our faith, we do praise thee and ask that thou wilt make us ever more diligent students, who professing to believe that thy word is inspired, show by their works of actual studying thy word that they believe what they say they believe. Thus part us now with thy blessing, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.