p. 136Ladies and Gentlemen,—
Am I wearying you with my prolixity? I hope not. The subject is of unutterable importance. This must be my excuse.
I have rehearsed a variety of considerations that will not be lightly dismissed by earnest and logical minds. The single force of any one of them is very great; their united force is irresistible. They prove that the mere existence of certain narratives in the Bible as narratives (quite apart from all questions of erudition) is an evidence of the truth of the things narrated, and that the truth of the things involves the truth of all the other things with which they are associated, which may not singly be susceptible of the same demonstration. The category of such cases is not yet exhausted. I invite your attention to the story of Gideon. It extends over the 6th, 7th and 8th chapters of Judges. p. 137 There is, first of all, the preface to the story. It tells us that after the judgeship of Deborah, “the children of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord, and the Lord delivered them into the hands of Midian. And the hand of Midian prevailed against Israel.” Why should such a fact as this be stated except it were true? Is it like a historical romancer to incriminate his own people? A romancer never puts pen to paper in this style. Why should he? What object could be served? If it be answered that it was to give a background to some complimentary picture about to be exhibited, the answer is inapplicable, for the sequel is the reverse of complimentary or satisfactory from every human point of view. Having described Israel’s sufferings at the hands of the Midianites (Jud. vi. 3-6), the narrative proceeds to say that “the children of Israel cried unto the Lord, and it came to pass when the children of Israel cried unto the Lord because of the Midianites, that the Lord sent a prophet unto the children of Israel.” Was the prophet sent to deliver them? Nay: to chide them. “Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, I brought you up from Egypt, and brought you forth out of the house of bondage, and I delivered you out of the hands of the Egyptians and out of the hands of all that oppressed you, and drove them out from before you and gave you their land. And I said unto you, I am the Lord your God; fear not the gods of the Amorites in whose land ye dwell. But ye have not obeyed my voice.” Ladies and Gentlemen, consider this. If this was not true; if this did not happen, why was it written? Could you imagine an object? When a man sits down to record a professed matter of fact, it is either to write what is true, because it is true; or to write a story, p. 138 because it is pleasing; or to produce a writing that will get him credit or advantage in some way. Try and imagine under which of these heads this writing was written, and you must find yourselves incapable, in the exercise of honest and impartial judgment, of coming to any other conclusion than that such a narrative could only be written because the thing was true.
This feeling increases at every stage of the narrative. Gideon was threshing wheat in a mountain recess “to hide it from the Midianites” (verse 11). An angel appeared to him, whom at first he took to be a human visitor. The angel salutes him in comforting style. “The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valour.” We all know how congratulatory words grate upon the ear in circumstances of misery. Gideon felt in this way at this time. “If the Lord be with us, why then is all this befallen us? and where be all the miracles which our fathers told us of, saying, Did not the Lord bring us out of Egypt? But now the Lord hath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hands of the Midianites.” Here is a recognition of THE ABSENCE OF MIRACLE and the presence of great adversity at this stage of Israel’s history: if the history were a romancing history, would such a feature arise? Would a romancer of miraculous deliverance from Egypt have romantically exhibited Israel as left helpless afterwards under the heel of oppression because of their sins? And miracles no more? This is contrary to the habit of romancing. It is inconsistent with its character. Romance keeps up the glory and the shine all the way through as in the “Arabian Nights.” Such a thing as romancing about God and about disobedience and about punishment is unknown to literature. p. 139 Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress” is a confessed allegory and not a professed history. Had romance been at work with the opening of the Red Sea, we should not have had romance shewing us Gideon cowering in concealment from the Midianites, and asking where the Egyptian miracles were. We should have had a triumphant and miracle-supported Israel all the way through.
The angel informs Gideon that he (Gideon) will deliver Israel from the Midianites. He gives him evidence of his angelic character and disappears (verse 21), which fills Gideon with fear (verse 22). If truth, this was natural. If not true, why was it invented? Fictitious narratives shew us the hero brave and undoubting. Gideon is directed what measures to take, and takes them; but he is afraid his senses may have deceived him, and that God is not in the enterprize. He consequently asks confirmation, modestly, even humbly. He will leave a fleece of wool on the ground all night; if God is with him, let the fleece be wet with the dew and the ground dry in the morning. “And it was so: for he rose up early on the morrow, and thrust the fleece together, and wringed the dew out the fleece, a bowl full of water.” But he evidently considers on reflection that this is not conclusive. Perhaps someone knew of his request and dipped the fleece in water: or, perhaps the dew had dried off the ground and left the fleece wet, because of its holding a greater quantity. He will ask this time that the ground be wet, and the fleece dry. But he is afraid to ask: “Let not Thine anger be hot against me, and I will speak but this once. Let me prove, I pray Thee, but this once with the fleece. Let it now be dry only on the fleece, and upon all the ground let p. 140 there be dew.” And God complied, upon which, Gideon went forward with courage.
Consider, Ladies and Gentlemen: this is no artificial picture. Romance, national or individual, does not conceive of a national hero as timid and distrustful. Here Gideon is both, which was natural after a long experience of adversity. Only truth can account for such a narrative.
How strong is this reflection at the next phase. Gideon assembles a multitude to carry out the proposed deliverance. “He sent messengers throughout all Manasseh, who also was gathered after him, and he sent messengers unto Asher, and unto Zebulon, and unto Naphtali: and they came up.” About 32,000 men responded to his call. He marshals them at Harod, in sight of the hill Moreh where the Midianites are encamped. While he contemplated measures, the narrative tells us that “The Lord said unto Gideon, The people that are with thee are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hand, lest Israel vaunt themselves against me, saying, MINE OWN HAND HATH SAVED ME.” Upon the back of this, there is a thinning down of Gideon’s forces, first by the sending home of all who were afraid (22,000), and then by dismissing all who being brought to a water brook and ordered to drink, drank in a particular way (9,700). Only 300 were left; “and the Lord said unto Gideon, By the 300 men that lapped will I save you.”
Ladies and Gentlemen,—Strongly consider. Is it according to any known characteristic of human nature that an Iraelitish historian should untruthfully describe a military action for the express purpose of keeping away the credit of the victory from his countrymen? There is no more race-glorifying people than the Jews p. 141 to this day; yet here is a national writing representing a national victory as in no way due to their prowess, and as, indeed, achieved expressly in such a way as to prevent them glorying in it. Can you account for such a narrative on any principle except its truth? Try if you can, and you will find imagination baffled. The narrative is there. God is in it. It is not in romancing man to give God this position. What other conclusion is reasonable, even confining our view to this single narrative, than that the reason of this representation of the matter having been made is simply that the thing happened so? If so, how much it proves beside: for if God was with Israel at that stage, He was with them at the Egyptian stage before, and at the prophetic and Christian stage afterwards, and in the writing of the Bible by His own inspiration, as is declared. In fact, Ladies and Gentlemen, you cannot escape the conclusion that the Bible is true, for this is the only hypothesis that rationally accounts for the peculiarity of its narratives as they actually exist in our hands.