Chapter 4
Ver. 1. 'And Adam knew Eve his wife; and she conceived, and bare Cain, and said, I have gotten a man from the Lord.'
IT is no longer paradise that stands before us. We leave it and its fair scenes behind us, not to see them again till the visions of Patmos bring them before us in more than primal glory. The guarded gate, the sword of fire, the cherubim, the tree of life,—all these are to be lost sight of for a season, and our eye to be directed to the wondrous process by which the lost heritage is to be redeemed, and man put in possession of a home fairer than that which he had lost, yet bearing still the unforgotten name, the paradise of God. It is as if a cloud or veil were flung over Eden, that all concerning it might henceforth be things of faith to man. That cloud still wraps it; but the fulness of time shall come; the cloud shall part asunder, and, rising upwards, disclose to view not merely paradise regained, but something more excellent and divine,—'the inheritance which is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away.' The last glimpse we had of paradise was when the first Adam, with his sorrow-stricken partner, left its gates, which closed behind them; the next is, when the second Adam and His triumphant Bride are entering its unfolded gates, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads.
We quit paradise, then, and follow Adam to his new home outside its gate, yet not far off from its still visible glory. We have seen him as the first husband: we now see him as the first father. We get a glimpse, too, of Eve, the wife and mother, now first experiencing the bitterness of the curse that sin has drawn down on her. We learn also the first result of the command, 'Be fruitful and multiply;' and we see that, thus far, at least, the curse has been repealed or suspended, for the original blessing, 'Be fruitful,' is still in force. Sin has not prevailed to cancel the blessing, though it has embittered and saddened it.
Months, of course, have passed on ere she brings forth Cain; and during these she would be led to meditate much upon the promise. Though she has never yet looked upon the face of infancy, and has
only seen the connection between mother and offspring in the animal creation around her, bringing forth their young after their kind; yet she could not but have some idea of what was about to take place, and could not but be anticipating, not only the threatened pangs, but the gladness that follows, making her forget all these in the joy that a man is born into the world.
In the expected fruit of her womb, what could she see but the promised seed? Unless the contrary had been revealed to her, it seems impossible that she could have counted on anything else, if she believed the promise; and, no doubt, with anxious longings did she look forward to the day when the child of promise should be born. What months of solemn thought, and self-humiliation, and earnest hope, and mingled grief and joy, must these have been! The day came at last, and in the hour that she became a mother, her faith, resting on the promise, yet but dimly seeing how it was to be fulfilled, broke forth in the exulting cry, 'have gotten a man from the Lord,' calling his name Cain, which signifies a possession; as if she said, 'Jehovah has fulfilled His promise; have gotten the deliverer: I will call him the gotten one,—the possession.'
Thus did her faith and hope declare themselves. She recognises Jehovah in this. It is He who has given her joy in the midst of grief; so that, though burdened with the awful consciousness of having ruined a world, she now rejoices in the thought of giving birth to the world's deliverer. She sees how Jehovah has remembered His promise, and she rejoices, as if now the effects of her sin were to be at once effaced. Her light must, indeed, have been dim. She had little to rest upon; just one brief promise. Yet faith, when simple, makes much of little things; and so did Eve's. The promise had been like a seed sown in the earth. She had been watching its upspringing; and now, when the first traces of it appear, she gives utterance to her joy. She views it, too, as favour shown to herself. Not foreseeing the sword that was to pierce through her own heart, she rejoices that God has thus visited her in her low estate, and manifested His love. She had felt His frown when He proclaimed to her the sorrows
awaiting her as a mother; and now she tastes His smile, and receives from His gracious hand the gift of fatherly love;—love that had freely forgiven her, and was now pouring down on her the blessings of its free bountifulness.
We saw Adam's faith showing itself in the naming of his wife; we now see Eve's in the naming of her son. In calling his wife Eve, Adam spake as a believing man; and in naming her first-born Cain, Eve speaks as a believing woman; as one who knows Jehovah, knows Him as her God, and finds in His grace and faithfulness her rest and joy; as one who has understood the promise, and sets her seal to the sure word of the great Promiser. No doubt she spoke in much ignorance; but still it was faith speaking; and though, in after years, when she found her sad mistake, she might mourn over disappointed hopes, yet, looking back on the day when she remembered her grief no more for joy that a man was born, she could still say, 'I believed, therefore I spake.' She had been watching the first springing of the seed, and, to her unpractised eye, it seemed now to have sprung up. In its first upbursting, she could not discern the difference between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent. She deemed it the former; but it proved the latter. Still her faith was called out; she believed and spake; and though soon undeceived, yet not the less was it faith in her, though it failed to discern the difference at first between that which was from beneath and that which was from above.
Thus simple ought our faith to be,—looking straight to God, and resting on His promises. It will make many mistakes and meet with many disappointments, yet in the end it will not lose its reward; for He on whom it rests shall come at length, though He seem to tarry long. It is not a faith free from mistakes that God expects of us, but a faith which, in spite of mistakes and delays, rests on Himself and His sure word, knowing that all He has spoken will sooner or later come most surely to pass.
Ver. 2. 'And she again bare his brother Abel. And Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground.'
There is no proof that the brothers were twins, though some have thought so. The narrative seems to warrant the common idea, that there was an interval; how long, we know not. It was long enough to let Eve feel what a world of vanity and sorrow she dwelt in; to show that she was a stranger on the earth; and, accordingly, she gave vent to the sorrowful feelings of her heart (as did afterwards the mother of Jabez, 1 Chron. 4:4) in calling him Abel, that is, vanity. In the name of her first-born, we see her up-springing joy of heart, as if now the wrong she had wrought were to be repaired; in the name of her second-born, we trace the utterance of hope deferred, making the heart sick, yet raising it upwards to something above the vanities of this vain earth. It was the second time that a mother's pangs had been upon her, and in passing through them she is made to feel that this is not her rest.
The boys grew up, and Cain followed the calling of his father Adam, feeling, doubtless, the weight of the curse in the toil and sweat which the tilling of the ground cost him. So that he especially ought to have known the evil of sin, seeing that he was made, more than his brother, to endure the curse. That he did not, only shows how desperately he had hardened his heart against the dealings of God, and refused the teachings by which the Holy Spirit sought to convince him of sin. How much might a man's earthly lot teach him, if he would but listen to God's voice in it! But he will not, and so his conscience becomes seared by that very discipline which was meant to make it tender. Abel was a keeper of sheep; finding in this occupation something more congenial to his spirit. He had thus a less rugged and toilsome life, as well as one which left him more of leisure and of solitude, in which he might often anticipate the feelings and song of David, 'The Lord is my shepherd.' And if Cain's employment ever reminded him of the curse, and spoke to him of sin, Abel's showed him the Lamb of God, by whom the curse was to
be borne, and brought continually into view the 'no condemnation' in which he had learnt to rejoice.
Vers. 3, 4. 'And in process of time (Heb. at the division of days) it came to pass, that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord. 4. And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock, and of the fat thereof.'
Each brought his offering to Jehovah; and this was done at what is called 'the division of days,' very probably the Sabbath. The act mentioned here is evidently not one, but a series of acts, as if it had been said, 'they were in the habit of bringing.' Here let us mark such things as the following:—
1. Both worship professedly the same Jehovah. They acknowledge Him as Jehovah, their God.
2. Both worship Him at the same place. In all likelihood they worshipped at the gate of paradise, and brought their offerings to the altar at which their father worshipped. They frequent the same temple (if we may say so), and bow at the same altar.
3. Both come at the same appointed times and seasons. They observe all these outward parts of worship alike.
4. Both bring an offering in their hands, thereby acknowledging the allegiance which was due to Jehovah.
Thus far they are alike. But here the likeness ends, and the difference begins. How great is that difference! In man's eye, the likeness is great, and the difference small; in God's eye, it is the opposite.
1. Abel comes as a sinner, having no claim upon God, and feeling that it is only as a sinner that God can deal with him. Cain approaches as a creature only; not owning sin, though willing to acknowledge the obligations of creaturehood.
2. Abel comes acknowledging death to be his due; for he brings a lamb, and slays it before the Lord, as a substitute for himself. Cain recognises no sentence of death; he brings only his fruits, as if his grapes or his figs were all that he deemed God entitled to. His offering might cost him more toil than his brother's, but it spoke not of death. It was meant to repudiate the ideas of sin and death, and salvation by a substitute.
3. Abel comes with the blood in his hand, feeling that he dared not appear before God without it; that it would not be safe for him to venture nigh, nor honourable for God to receive him otherwise. Nothing but the blood upon his conscience can give him confidence before God. Cain brings no blood,—doubtless scorning his brother's religion as 'the religion of the shambles;' a religion which increased instead of removing creation's pangs.
4. Abel comes resting on the promise,—the promise which revealed and pledged the rich grace of God. Cain comes as one that needs no promise and no grace. His is what men call 'the religion of nature;' and in that religion there is no room, no need for these.
In Cain's worship we see the germ of man's religion; a religion which has taken a thousand various and subtle forms; a religion which, in these last days, is assuming yet more varied and subtle forms. In whatever form we find it, we see at least two things invariably absent, —die recognition of the mere grace of God, and of the blood of the substitute as bringing that grace nigh. These are the two elements which Cain's religion sets aside; and these are still the two elements which man's religion abhors.
God's religion turns on these two things; and these have ever been the joy and confidence of those who, like Abel, have learned to worship Him who is a Spirit in spirit and in truth.
Vers. 4, 5. 'And the Lord had respect unto Abel, and to his offering: 5. But unto Cain, and to his offering, He had not
respect.'
Jehovah accepts the one brother and rejects the other. He intimated in some explicit way,—such as, perhaps, the coming down of fire from the Shekinah that rested between the cherubim, or the flaming sword that waved at the gate of paradise,—His well-pleasedness with Abel. Of Cain He took no notice, marking most visibly His thoughts regarding the brothers. This well-pleasedness and displeasedness were, of course, marked things—things which Abel knew and which Cain knew, and which their parents knew. Abel knew that he was accepted; Cain knew that he was rejected;—God, from the beginning, thus showing us that He means us to know even here when we are accepted, and when we are not accepted. There was no uncertainty about either the one or the other. 'By faith, Abel offered to God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain;' and God left him in no doubt as to the acceptance of that offering. He obtained witness that he was justified (Heb. 11:4), 'God testifying of his gifts'—that is, giving some open testimony respecting their acceptableness, by means of which all men knew that the favour of Jehovah was resting on him. He came to the altar each day, with the blood in his hand, as a believing man, and he was accepted. God made no secret of His love to him; he left him in no doubt as to his acceptance.
Ver. 5. 'And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell.'
Anger took possession of his bosom, and rested there (Eccles. 7:9). He was 'very wroth:' this was the first effect. Then his 'countenance fell.' It was not the sudden flash of anger that lighted it up, but the gloom of sullen, silent, deep-seated malignity that overshadowed it. Its lines bent downwards; he went hanging his head; he will not look upward to heaven, for God has thwarted him; he will not look around upon his brother, for he hates him, as one who has supplanted him in the favour of God. He broods over his fancied wrong and insult, meditating revenge, not merely against Abel, but against God. He is not led to repentance, or heart-searching as to the reason of God's making such a difference. He is too proud to admit the thought that
the fault can be with himself. He cannot bear the thought that God should prefer another, and that one his own brother. Instead of saying, Well, I am glad that Abel is to be blest if I am not, he quenches all natural affection, and scowls upon him in bitter wrath. Nor can he endure to think that another should be preferred on such grounds,—the difference between the fruits of the field and the firstlings of the flock! Had the preference turned upon any other point, it would not have seemed so irritating; had it been because Cain was immoral and Abel moral, it would not have been felt as so insulting; but that it should turn upon the difference between a cluster of grapes and a lamb of the flock, this was intolerable. Such are still the feelings of Cain's successors, the men of this world. They are angry at others being accepted; envious of the peace of believing men; unable to bear the idea of assurance of pardon; enraged at God for bestowing favour on a friend, or neighbour, or brother. O heart of man! what art thou? the seat of every evil passion, the fountain of enmity both against man and God.
Ver. 6. 'And the Lord said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth2 at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him.'
Jehovah now speaks to Cain. He had given visible indications of the non-acceptance of Cain's fruit-offering; and this had been followed by anger and sullen defiance on the part of the rejected worshipper. He now audibly addresses him, just as he spoke afterwards to Abraham, and to Moses, and to Israel. The words spoken are in the form of a gentle expostulation. There is no wrath in them, as we might have expected. It is the voice of long-suffering and compassion. It is grace that is dealing with the sinner; grace like that which dealt with Judas when the 'sop' was given, the last token of friendly forbearance. 'Why hast thou become thus angry? and why has thy countenance fallen?' Art thou not acting most unreasonably as well as sinfully, showing anger against thy God,—anger without a cause? Am I to blame? May I not do what I will with mine own?
Besides, hast thou not brought this upon thyself? Must I do as thou desirest? Must I show myself as loving and favourable to the man that regards my ordinances, as to the man that sets them at nought, and chooses ordinances of his own? If thou doest well, is there not acceptance for thee? and if thou doest not well, there is a remedy; the sin-offering lieth at the door;2 so that whatever has been thy past guilt and rejection of the way of approaching me, thou mayest yet enjoy my favour, and the birthright belonging to thee as the elder brother shall not be affected. To thee shall thy brother's desire still be; to thee he shall look up as his superior; and thou shalt still have the rule over him.
This is God's last appeal to Cain regarding the birthright. As it was the threatened loss of this and its conveyance to Abel that had so troubled him, so God makes his appeal to turn upon this point. He is slow to anger and plenteous in mercy, and He shows this in His dealings with this sullen unbeliever. He will not cast off at once. He has long patience, and would fain bring the rebel to repentance. The birthright was Cain's as the eldest-born. Such was God's law; for the law of primogeniture is no mere human fiction nor modern invention. Nor will God depart from this law without a reason, whatever His own eternal purpose may be. Before transferring the prerogative to the younger brother, He will make manifest the righteousness of the alteration. Cain is rejected because he rejects God's appointed way of approach. To the last we see how God makes Cain's acceptance to turn upon this,—'Wilt thou take my way or thine own? If thou wilt take my way, then even yet all shall be well. Thy privileges shall not be taken from thee. Thy rights as the elder-born shall stand.' This is God's appeal to unbelief. How that unbelief met the appeal, the next verses show us. As Esau despised the birthright, so did Cain. It was the same unbelief in both; the same rejection of Messiah and of God's way of acceptance by His blood.
Ver. 8. 'And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.'
Love is lost upon him. Kind words are in vain. God's appeal fails. It may be that the appeal recorded was made, not once, but many times; all without effect. He will not listen. His angry sullenness increases. He resolves to revenge himself both upon God and upon Abel. He cannot get at God directly, and therefore he takes his revenge on Him by slaying His beloved child, thus venting his impotent malignity against God. He hopes to frustrate God's purpose of love to Abel, and to prevent him enjoying the divine favour or the birthright. It is the same feeling as drew out the cry of after ages, 'This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance shall be ours;' he hoped by this means to seize on the inheritance when Abel was gone. Blind revenge indeed, whether as regards God, or Abel, or himself! And not only revenge, but hatred of the good. Wherefore slew he him? asks the apostle. Because his own deeds were evil, and his brother's righteous. He was a hater, not a lover of the good. Here is the enmity of the seed of the serpent to the seed of the woman,—an enmity which nothing will satisfy but death. Hatred to Christ, hatred to the Father, hatred to the Church,—these are the world's deep and unchangeable feelings, modified or restrained by circumstances, but still unaltered. The root of all is hatred of Christ Himself; dissatisfaction with God's purpose of making him the one way, and his sacrifice the one ground of acceptance. It was thus that Cain's hatred was stirred up, and so is it in every son of Cain. 'If they have hated me, they will also hate you.' And then mark the cunning as well as the malignity of the serpent. By fair speeches Cain leads Abel away into a solitary field, and there murders him. He has forgotten the allseeing Jehovah above, or is resolved to defy Him. All that he cares for is to be away from the eye of man. How near to the atheist he has come in his heart already, saying 'There is no God,' or at least God will not see!
Ver. 9. 'And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not. Am I my brother's keeper?'
God does not allow blood to be spilt like water on the earth, without inquiring after it. He 'makes inquisition for blood' (Ps. 9:12),
specially for 'innocent blood.' It is precious in His eyes (Ps. 72:11).
The murderer's conscience was not likely to be silent. It would burn like a furnace. It would sting like an adder. It is not, however, to this that our eyes are directed, but to something more awful,—to the Judge Himself; to Him 'whose eyes are as a flame of fire.' God comes down, as He had done in paradise to Adam after his sin. Probably it was soon after the event, at the next time of sacrifice, and to the usual place of offering that Jehovah came. Cain was there as usual, with his grapes and pomegranates. But Abel was awanting! A voice comes forth from 'the glory.' It is the voice of Jehovah. He speaks as one that missed a worshipper; nay, a favourite child; and He speaks to Cain as to the elder brother who ought to have care for the younger. 'Where is Abel thy brother?' A question fitted to go straight to the murderer's conscience, and no less fitted to rouse his wrathful jealousy, as showing how truly Abel was the beloved one. 'Where is Abel,—where is thy brother,—he who is bone of thy bone? I miss him, dost not thou miss him too?'
The question only draws from Cain a bold and reckless lie; sin leading on to sin,—murder, falsehood, effrontery, profanity. 'I know not,' he says to the All-seeing One. He can look up into the face of God and say, 'I know not.' As if he would add, 'You may know, for he is your favourite, and you ought to look after him.' He is like the wicked one spoken of in the 10th Psalm, who says, 'God hath forgotten, He hideth His face; He will not see.' Nay, more, he 'foams out his own shame' before God. He is not afraid to be insolent even to God. 'Am I my brother's keeper?' He rejects the natural claims of kindred and affection; even while afraid to own the dark deed, he is not afraid to speak as one who had cast off all natural affection. Strange inconsistency! He mocks God, he utters lies in His presence, he flings off the bonds of brotherhood, yet he will not own the murder! 'Thou canst not say I did it.' How unsearchable man's heart in its evil! 'It is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.' Cain will go on heaping sin upon sin, but his pride will not allow him to confess the charge. 'Am I my brother's keeper?' as if he would say,
'What have I to do with him? Thou art his keeper; he is Thy favourite; Thou shouldst know more about him than I; why ask such a question of me?' He speaks as one who would not allow himself to be questioned even by God; as one who denied God's right to question him, who was enraged at the suspicion thus cast upon him, —a suspicion to which his conscience at once responded, while his lips rejected it. What will man not do to God? Is there any length of pride, or deceit, or insolence to which he will not go? Many things may restrain him, yet he is ever ready to break loose, and to defy Jehovah. He will crouch to a poor mortal superior, but he will insult the God that made him.
Ver. 10. 'And He said, What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground.'
The divine reply is calm, yet awfully piercing. There is no outburst of vengeance, nor sudden stroke of wrath. 'What is this dreadful deed which thou hast done, and which thou art trying to conceal from me? The voice of thy brother's blood cries to me from the ground.' In the first part of the answer, God brings home the charge to the sinner's conscience, and makes him feel how vain was his attempt to evade it, or to conceal the deed. In the second part, He adduces witnesses. The voice of Abel's blood. That blood crieth to me, says Jehovah. It makes no vague or random sound, but appeals directly to me. Cain had shed that blood, and perhaps had hidden the body in the ground. The voice was silenced; there could be no witnesses; the murderer seemed safe. Who could accuse him? But from that very ground, in which he had buried the bleeding body, there came up a voice in the ears of God, accusing the murderer, and pleading for vengeance. Out of that very place of secrecy where he had hoped for ever to conceal his crime from every eye, the voice came up to God. The blood had made its appeal to Jehovah, and He had now come down to answer that appeal, and to show how precious was that blood in His sight. As yet there was no human judge to take cognizance of the crime. God Himself must do it.
Thus from the days of Abel has pleaded the blood of the saints: —'How long, O Lord, wilt Thou not judge and avenge our blood?' Thus the voice has been going up for ages from the ground, from the cell, from the cave, from the rock, from the glen, from the moorland, from the flood, from the flame, from the scaffold. What spot of Europe, not to take in more, is there from which this cry is not ascending? From the plains of Italy, from the valleys of Piedmont, from the dungeons of Spain, from the streets of Paris, from the stones of Smithfield, from the fields of Ireland, from the moors of Scotland; from all these has been ascending for ages the cry, 'How long!' a cry unsilenced and unsatisfied; deepening and swelling as the ages roll on; a cry which will ere long be fully answered by the coming of Him who is the great avenger of blood and rewarder of His saints.
Ver. 11. 'And now art thou cursed from the earth (Heb. ground), which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand.'
This is the first direct curse on man. The serpent and the ground had been cursed before; but neither Adam nor Eve had been so. But now God, addressing a man; the son of a man; a creature of His own; says, 'Cursed art THOU.' Fearful words, coming straight from the lips of God into the very ear of man, standing in the presence of God. No lightning bursting on him from the clouds could be half so terrible. The blessing is revoked, and the curse goes forth. It is a curse because of innocent blood, as if foreshowing the curses which the shedding of innocent blood was yet to bring upon men. This curse is represented as coming up from the ground, as if the ground which had been moistened with the blood were to be the instrument of inflicting the curse. In Ezekiel we read of the 'mountains devouring men' (36:12–14), and elsewhere of the land 'spewing out' (Lev. 18:28, 20:22); so here the very ground is impregnated with evil to Cain, and sends up its curses on him. The soil is to cast him off; the earth is to loathe him; inanimate nature, more tender-hearted than he (inasmuch as it drank in the blood), is to set its face against him. It
had received the innocent blood into its bosom, and it was to send up unceasingly on the murderer an endless curse.
Ver. 12. 'When thou tillest (or shalt till) the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength (Heb. it shall not add to give her strength to thee). A fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth' (Heb. moving and wandering shall thou be on the 'earth'—not 'the ground').
This curse is a twofold one; it was to affect the ground, and it was to affect himself. It was to inflict barrenness on the soil, so that it was not to continue to yield its strength as it had hitherto done to his tillage; the innocent blood had sterilized it. Adam's sin drew down on the soil the curse of fruitfulness in evil (chap. 3:18); Cain's draws down on it the curse of barrenness in good. But the curse affected himself as well as the ground. It was to afford him no settled dwelling, as well as no return for his labour; sustenance and settlement were to be denied. He was to be rooted up from the soil and flung off, to be carried to and fro, like the withered leaf. Driven out from the presence of Jehovah, from the place where the glory dwelt, and where the altar was erected, he was to become a wanderer over earth; his sin, like a malignant demon, pursuing him, and allowing him no rest for the sole of his foot. As Israel, in after days, were made wanderers among the nations for the bloodshedding of the Lord of glory, so was Cain. Tortured within and cursed without, he was to bear the weight of a brother's blood whithersoever he went. Impelled by envy, he had murdered his holy brother, and now something more terrible and more unquenchable takes possession of him,—remorse of soul,—the undying sting of conscience. He had slain his brother to prevent his inheriting the birthright, and to secure the blessing for himself; and now he finds that he has called up against himself a curse which is to track his footsteps throughout earth, and render his very life a burden and a sorrow. Such is SIN! So terrible, so ruinous, so relentless, so armed with the curse of God. Such are the fruits of envy. Burden upon burden, stroke upon stroke, sorrow upon sorrow! From above, from beneath, and from around,
the torment, and the terror, and the bitterness pour in. There is no peace to the wicked, no rest, no settlement. How sin uproots and unsettles, making a man to flee hither and thither, in order to get away from himself! How vain! O SIN, sin! what horrid things are all wrapt up even in its smallest indulgence! An unkind thought, a harsh word, an envious feeling,—then sullenness, anger, murder—a brother's murder! How little do we know sin, or reckon on its results, or calculate the fruits that come forth from its womb!
Vers. 13, 14. 'And Cain said unto the Lord, My punishment is greater than I can bear. 14. Behold, Thou hast driven me this day from the face of the earth; and from Thy face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth: and it shall come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me.'
Up to this point the murderer has lifted up a bold front before Jehovah. But the sentence from God's own lips has overwhelmed him. It has smitten him like a thunderbolt. He can no longer defy God, nor brave His anger, nor trifle with His omniscience. He is not, indeed, humbled; repentance is far from him; but he is silenced, convicted, crushed. Like Ahab, in an after age, he bows before a power with which he can no longer trifle; but that is all. Like Judas, he is stung with remorse, as when the betrayer cried out, 'I have sinned, in that I have betrayed the innocent blood.' He now, for the first time, confesses sin; yet it is only this sin,—no more,—that he avows. In the sharp bitterness of remorse, he passes from callousness to despair. For there is no right sense of sin here, but the mere agony of blind remorse, arising from the reaction and revulsion of his furious passions, and the terrible thought that he is in the hands of an angry God. Transgressor, what does this avail? Remorse is not repentance. Terror is not repentance. Despair is not repentance. The revenge which an outraged conscience takes on man for some dark deed is not repentance. These are but Cain's sullen ravings, or Ahab's alarm, or Judas' despair. There are outcries such as these in hell,
with weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth; but where is godly sorrow, the tears of a broken heart?
Cain enumerates the causes of his despair. These are three,—the three articles of the sentence pronounced; and then he sums up with a conclusion of his own: 'It shall come to pass that every one that findeth me shall slay me.'
(1.) Behold, Thou hast cast me out this day from (or from upon) the face of the ground. Thou hast driven me! He sees it to be Jehovah's own doing. He who drove Adam out of paradise, now drives Cain out of Eden. Adam's sin brought expulsion from the inner circle, Cain's from the outer. He is to be cast out from the land where he had been born, where was his home; from the ground which he had tilled. He was now doubly banished; compelled to go forth into an unknown region, without a guide, or a promise, or a hope.
(2.) From Thy face I shall be hid. God's face means, doubtless, the Shekinah or manifested glory of Jehovah at the gate of Eden, where Adam and Eve, and their children, had worshipped; where God was seen by them, where He met them, and spake to them as from His mercy-seat. From this place of Jehovah's presence Cain was to go out. And this depresses him. Not that he really cared for the favour of God, as one 'in whose favour was life;' but still he could not afford to lose it, especially when others were left behind to enjoy it. And all his religious feelings, such as they were, were associated with that spot.
(3.) I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth. Unchained from his primeval home, he was now to drift to and fro, he knew not whither. He was to be a leaf driven to and fro, a man without a settlement, and without a home. Poor, desolate sinner! And all this is thine own doing! Thy sin has found thee out. Thine own iniquities have taken thee, and thou art holden with the cords of thy sins (Prov. 5:22).
Cain now sums up all by drawing his own sad inference. He is sure to be slain by the first that meets him. There was nothing of this in the sentence; but a guilty conscience suggested it. He sees himself a marked man. Death surrounds him. What else can a murderer expect? What else can a murderer's conscience forbode?
Ver. 15. 'And the Lord said unto him, Therefore, whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him.'
Jehovah meets the murderer's despair with words and acts of grace. His sullen ravings draw forth no wrath. God has declared the punishment, and will not be provoked to exceed it. Nay, He takes measures to prevent its being exceeded. Not a drop more shall go into even Cain's cup than He Himself decrees. And Cain must know this, and must be assured that nothing beyond the awarded penalty shall be permitted to come upon him. Grace meets the murderer, and gives him this assurance on the part of God. God will not allow any save Himself to deal with Cain. 'Vengeance is mine, I will recompense, saith Jehovah.' If any shall attempt to take his life, vengeance shall fall on him sevenfold. Of this God gives Cain a sign, —a sign for himself, that he would be preserved safe from all attempts against his life, thus relieving his apprehensions, and in this respect delivering him from the terrors which surrounded him; terrors not confined to the time then present, but terrors of what might be in the ages which lay before him ere he returned to dust.3
But why is God so anxious to preserve Cain from death, and to give him the assurance of this security? Some reasons are obvious, besides those which run us up directly to the sovereignty of God. (1.) God's desire is to manifest the riches of His grace, and the extent of His forbearance, and that He has no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but wishes by His long-suffering to lead him to repentance. (2.) Death would not have answered God's end at all. It was needful that Cain should be preserved alive as an awful monument of sin, a
warning against the shedding of man's blood. We find that this proved ineffectual; for in after ages we read that the earth was 'filled with violence,' which compelled God to interfere, with the Deluge; and we find also, that after the Deluge, God enacted the statute referred to above for the repression of murder, putting into man's hands the very power which before that He had kept wholly in His own. (3.) Cain was spared too, because of this partial repentance. God accepted Ahab's repentance (1 Kings 21:29); poor and hollow as it was, so does He Cain's; for He is gracious and merciful, looking for the first and faintest sign of a sinner's turning to Himself, willing to meet him at once without upbraiding, and putting the best possible construction on all he says and does. To what length is not the grace of our God able to go! Sin abounds, but grace superabounds. How desirous is Jehovah not to curse, but to bless; not to smite, but to heal; not to destroy, but to save.
Ver. 16. 'And Cain went out from the presence of the Lord (Heb. from the face of Jehovah), and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden.'
He must tarry no longer within the bounds of Eden. Willing or unwilling, he must go. Like Judas from the presence of Jesus, so does Cain go out from the face of God, from the place where the visible glory of God, the Shekinah, had its abode. Partly troubled at his banishment, and partly relieved at getting away from the near presence of the Holy One, he goes forth, a banished criminal, whose foot must no longer be permitted to profane the sacred circle of Eden; an excommunicated man, who must no longer worship with the Church of God, round the primeval altar. He goes out, not like Abraham to the land of promise, the land flowing with milk and honey, but to the land of the threatening, the land where no divine presence was seen, and on which no glory shone, and where no bright cherubim foreshadowed redemption, and proclaimed restoration to paradise, and the tree of life. He goes out to an unknown and untrodden land; a land which, from his own character as 'the wanderer,' received in after days the name of Nod. He goes
out, the flaming sword behind him, driving him out of his native seat, and forbidding his return.
A banished man, an excommunicated worshipper (the sentence of excommunication pronounced by God Himself)—one 'delivered over to Satan' (1 Tim. 1:20), he takes up his abode in the land of Nod. There he 'sits down,' not as if at rest, for what had he to do with rest? Can the cloud rest? Can the sea rest? Can the guilty conscience rest? He sits down in Nod, but not to rest, only to drown his restlessness in schemes of labour. He went towards the rising sun. He and his posterity spread eastward, just as Seth and his posterity spread westward. The two great families separated, only to meet again in after ages, when overflowing wickedness had erased the line of separation, and a common ungodliness had made them one.2
'The way of Cain'—what is it? (Jude 11.) The apostle speaks of it as something terrible, and something which will be specially exhibited in the last days. 'Woe unto them, for they have gone in the way of Cain!' That way began in unbelief, in the rejection of God's way of 'salvation through the shedding of blood.' It ended in utter worldliness and infidelity; in the unrestrained indulgence of the lust of the flesh, the eye, and the pride of life. It was a way very much marked by the Apostle Paul's characteristics of the perilous times of the last days (2 Tim. 3:1). In it we find selfishness, envy, hatred, murder, hypocrisy, lying, pride, independence, rebelliousness, ambition, all coupled or covered over with the 'form of godliness.' Rejection of the woman's seed, and of God's way of acceptance through that seed—this is the main feature, that which influences all the rest. No Christ for him! No bruised heel for him! No shedding of blood for the remission of sins! No righteousness of a substitute in which he may stand before God! 'The way of Cain!' It still exists. It has not been ploughed up so as to become imperceptible. It is still visible, and it is coming more and more into admiration as man's conscience gets blunted, and as his proud self-sufficiency exhibits itself. No sacrifice, no substitute, no imputed righteousness, no blood-shedding, no 'religion of the shambles' for us!
And is such a way the way of holiness? Will such a religion lead men to love and gentleness, and brotherly kindness? Will such a faith make a happy kingdom and a blessed earth, introducing the reign of peace and gladness? So say its exulting votaries, emancipated, as they suppose, from the trammels of old creeds, and from the brutalizing influence of altars besmeared with blood. So says the philosophic theology of the day. So says the poetry of the age.
But look at Cain. That was his way. He rejected the expiatory blood, turning away from the 'religion of the shambles,' to the mild gentleness of a worship in which no life was taken, and no blood was spilt, and no suffering inflicted. Did this mild and genial religion of his lead to a loving, gentle life? No. He who had so many scruples about shedding the blood of an innocent lamb, has none about taking the life of a holy and unoffending brother. He who is too pure and refined in his ideas of religion to profane his altar by turning it into 'shambles,' is all the while busied in preparing 'shambles' of his own, where, for the gratification of malice, hatred, envy, and revenge, and every hellish passion, he may, with his own hand, butcher a brother for being more righteous than he.
Ver. 17. 'And Cain knew his wife; and she conceived, and bare Enoch: and he builded a city, and called the name of the city, after the name of his son, Enoch.'
Cain had probably been married before his crime, yet had no family. His wife goes forth with him from Eden, and in the land of his banishment brings forth a son, who gets the name of Enoch; the same in name as the holy son of Seth in an after age, but in character unlike. Cain was himself born within the primeval region where Adam dwelt; but his children are not to be born there. Their native region is to be that of the banished wanderer, as if God, even in this thing, would draw the separating line between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent.
In his new country he had set himself to build a city, and as his son was born while he was engaged in building it, he calls it by the name of his son. He does not call it by his own name. He deems it better that that should be hid, not published,—forgotten, not perpetuated. But he seeks to connect the city with a family name, though not with his own. How like the ungodly spoken of by David, 'They call their lands by their own names'! (Ps. 49:11.) He is now settling down in worldliness, and trying to forget God amid stir, and movement, and pleasure. He is ambitious of being remembered in the earth. Posthumous fame is his desire. He is desirous to be not merely the founder of a family, but the builder of a city. He seeks thus to soothe his guilty conscience, to drown remorse, to bury out of sight and out of memory the dreadful past. He is the true picture of a sinner trying to flee from himself and to escape from God. But it cannot be! The void within still remains unfilled! Conscience still stings. The past, like a black spectre, frowns or moans behind him, and the future flings its cold shadow over him, pointing onwards to the endless sorrow. What can the sinner do? Return to God is his only 'chance,' as men speak; or, as the gospel tells him, his certain and joyful hope.
Ver. 18. 'And unto Enoch was born Irad: and Irad begai Mehujael: and Mehujael begat Methusael: and Methusael begat Lamech.'
Thus son after son is born. The world runs on. Its families multiply: and name is added to name. Abel is forgotten, and the voice of his blood is silenced,—at least it ceases to disturb these generations of the prosperous sons of Cain. Enoch loses sight of his holy uncle's murder in the triumph of having a city called by his name. Cain's sin passes out of mind. God's curse upon the murderer is made light of. To lay aside the stranger's tent, and build the city for ages, as if they would dwell here for ever, is now the aim of these Cainites. The 'world' is now rapidly developing itself as 'the world.' There is 'eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage;' and the chorus of after ages begins to be adopted, 'To-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant.'
Ver. 19. 'And Lamech took unto him two wives: the name of the one was Adah, and the name of the other Zillah.'
Here begins the brief story of Lamech the polygamist,—a story of lust, bloodshed, and defiant hardihood. He is the first to violate God's primeval law of marriage; and the violation of this soon leads to other sins. In Cain we have seen the man of violence. In Lamech we see the man of lust. From these two fountainheads of evil, what wickedness has flowed out upon earth! And, as in the last days we find men returning to 'the way of Cain,' so do we find them returning to the way of Lamech,—'walking after the flesh, in the lust of uncleanness, and despising government, presumptuous, self-willed' (2 Pet. 2:10). All the old world's sins repeated and intensified in the last generation, just before the arrival of Him of whom Enoch prophesied (Jude 14).
Vers. 20–22. 'And Adah bare Jabal: he was the father of such as dwell in tents, and of such as have cattle. 21. And his brother's name was Jubal: he was the father of all such as handle the harp and organ. 22. And Zillah, she also bare Tubalcain, an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron: and the sister of Tubal-cain was Naamah.'
Still the world goes on. God allows men to take their course. Forgetting Him in whom they live, they proceed onwards, each one in his own way and in the gratification of his own tastes. All kinds of professions, and occupations, and arts are introduced. The natural man is fertile in all things pertaining to this present evil world; and Satan, the god of this world, sharpens and quickens his ingenuity and skill.
1. Pastoral pursuits make progress. Jabal was the father of such as dwell in tents, and have cattle (ver. 20). Jabal takes the lead as the great shepherd of his day,—gentler, perhaps, and more peaceful in his nature,—more like Abel in his dispositions. The Spirit of God does not here cast censure on such employments, as if there were sin
in them. He simply points out these children of Cain as sitting down contented with earth, and engrossed with its pursuits. It is the spirit of earnest and absorbing worldliness which is meant to be exhibited; the spirit that pursues lawful employments to such an extreme of engrossment, that by excess they become unlawful. These children of Cain seem to have shrunk from tillage. They would have had to till a cursed soil,—a soil cursed for their father's sin (ver. 12). They would have had to labour on with their father's guilt overhanging them,— their sweating brow, and weary limbs, and baffled schemes, reminding them that they were labouring on under a double curse— the curse of Cain added to the curse of Adam; that they were tilling ground which Cain had sterilized with a brother's blood,—blood which was still crying from every clod and furrow. Hence they seem to have given up their father's original occupation, and become keepers of cattle, not tillers of the ground. The soil was too full of terror, as well as of toil, for them to attempt its tillage. How a man's sin finds him out! How it traces him out wherever he sets his foot! How it haunts his days and nights, standing in his way like the angel before Balaam, to turn him out of his road, and to compel him to seek other paths, and other occupations, where he may not be so perseveringly pursued by that dark shadow, or rather that living spectre!
2. The Fine Arts.—Jabal had a brother by name Jubal, who betakes himself to the harp and the organ. Yes,—music,—the world must soothe its sorrows or drown its cares with music! The world must cheat its hours away with music! The world must set its lusts, to music! The harp and the organ,—these must be employed to lull the conscience asleep, to minister to pleasure, to drown the sorrows of earth, to cheat the soul out of its eternal birthright! Thus Job describes these families of Cain:—'Their children dance: they take the timbrel and harp, and rejoice at the sound of the organ' (Job 21:12). Yet, sweet sounds are not unholy. There is no sin in the richest strains of music. And God, by bringing into His own temple all the varied instruments of melody, and employing them in His praises, showed this. But these Cainites make music of the siren
kind. God is not in all their melodies. It is to shut Him out that they devise the harp and the organ. Yet these inventions He makes use of for Himself afterwards; employing these men as the hewers of wood and the drawers of water for His temple. They devise and fashion the instruments for their own pleasure and mirth; and God takes them out of their hands, and putting them into the hands of His servants, brings out of them divine music, for the service of His temple, and for the praise of His glory. When we are told, 'Thus all Israel brought up the ark of the covenant of the Lord with shouting, and with sound of the cornet, and with trumpets, and with cymbals, making a noise with psalteries and harps' (1 Chron. 15:28), we are carried back to Jubal, and made to see how God can turn to His own ends the wisdom of this world, the natural skill and science which the men of earth pursue for the gratification of their own carnal desires.
3. The Mechanical Arts.—Zillah bare Tubal-cain to Lamech; and this Tubal-cain was an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron. The arts flourish under Cain's posterity. They can prosper without God, and among those in whose hearts. His fear is not. God suffers them to go on forgetting Himself, and occupying themselves with these engrossing employments. He permits them to put forth their skill and genius to the uttermost, fashioning for themselves all manner of curious or useful instruments for ornament, for tillage, for war, for all those various ends for which brass and iron are moulded by the artificers of ancient or of modern times. He does not interfere; and this not only because He is long-suffering, but because one of His great purposes is, that man shall have full scope to develope himself mentally, morally, and physically. Man has torn himself off from God; and God will let it be seen how the branch can unfold its leaves and fruit, or rather what kind of leaves and fruit it can put forth when thus severed from Himself. God will let the world roll on its own way, that it may be seen what a world it is. He will let sin come out in all its various manifestations, that its true character may be exhibited, as well as the true character of that fountainhead where it had now concentrated itself,—a human heart. There is no sin in working in brass and iron, or in attaining to the highest skill in so
doing; but there is sin I in the worldliness, the selfishness, the forgetfulness of God, springing out of the exercise of that skill in these Cainites.
Men are trying so to fit up and adorn the world, that they shall be able to do without God in it at all. The experiment is making, whether they may not be quite as comfortable and as safe in a world where God is not, as in a world where He is all in all. They till the soil; they clothe it with fair verdure in hill and dale; they cover it with the living creatures which God has made for it; and the cattle upon a thousand hills exhibit the life and the plenty with which they have made it to abound; they dig into its very bowels for the iron and the brass, out of which to construct instruments to fill its air with melody, or implements with which to cultivate its varied growth, or weapons with which to defend themselves against evil, or ornaments with which to beautify their dwelling; they call in the aid, too, of woman's attractions; for Naamah, Zillah's daughter, and Tubal-cain's sister, seems mentioned for the very purpose of suggesting this; all that skill, and art, and ornament, and brilliancy, and harmony, and female grace can do to make earth a paradise is attempted. Poor man! What efforts he has made to undo the curse with which his own sin had smitten creation! What pains he has taken to render this world habitable and pleasant; to make himself and his children independent of God for happiness, or health, or safety, or blessing! But in vain; it will not do. The fashion of this world passeth away; its beauty fades, and its loveliest forms are but sunset-rainbows, brightening those vapours, that in an hour will vanish or grow dark.
What is earth without the God that made it, or the Christ by whom it is yet to be made new? What are the arts and sciences; music, painting, statuary? What are the wisdom, skill, energy, power, genius of the race, developed to the full? What are the mind's resources, the heart's fulness, the body's pliant power, man's strength or woman's beauty, youth's fervour or age's grey-haired wisdom? What are all these in a world from which its Creator has been banished; a world
whose wisdom is not the knowledge of Christ, and whose sunshine is not the love of God?
Vers. 23, 24. 'And Lamech said unto his wives, Adah and Zillah, hear my voice; ye wives of Lamech, hearken unto my speech: for I have slain a man to my wounding, and a young man to my hurt: 24. If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech seventy and sevenfold.'
The substance of this abrupt and singular narrative may be set down as follows: Lamech had been engaged in some deed of blood,—to which, perhaps, his polygamy had led. From this murder his family apprehend the worst consequences to himself. To soothe their fears, he addresses his wives,—
'Adah and Zillah, hear my voice;
Ye wives of Lamech, hearken to my speech!
Surely I have slain a man to my wounding,
And a young man to my hurt.
Surely if Cain shall be avenged sevenfold,
Truly Lamech seventy and sevenfold.'
As if he had said, 'It is true that I have slain a man, but it was in selfdefence, and in so doing I have been wounded; I have slain a young man, and in so doing have been bruised; but surely I have less cause to fear than Cain: if he was to be avenged sevenfold, then I may count upon being avenged seventy-sevenfold.'
Such was the argument by which Lamech sought to allay the alarms of his wives. And in this we see the man. We get a knowledge of his character, and no less so of the state of the times. It seems to have been an age of lust and bloodshed. Lamech is its type. It was the
introduction to that darker time, when wickedness having swelled to its utmost, God was constrained to interpose and sweep the transgressors from the earth. The scene in Lamech's house was a specimen of the times,—times like those depicted in Psalms 11 and 52, or in Isaiah 5 (especially ver. 18), like those predicted by Paul (2 Tim. 3:1; 2 Pet. 2:2, 3:1, 2), and by Jude throughout his epistle. It is the dark picture of a dark time; men rushing headlong in the way of Cain, breaking asunder all ties of brotherhood, defying God, and making account of no interests save their own. It is a scene which shall yet be expanded to far larger dimensions in the last days, when evil shall cover the earth, and when 'the wicked one,' more cruel than Cain, viler than Lamech, and more ambitious than Nimrod, shall shed man's blood in torrents, and impiously reckon on impunity at the hands of God.
But let us look more narrowly at Lamech. He stands before us in such aspects as the following:—
1. As the first violator of God's primeval law of marriage.—That law most strictly enjoined one wife; and doubtless had been observed till Lamech's time. He sets it at defiance. That law was the very foundation of society. It was the foundation of family peace, of true religion, of social order, of right government in the state. Take away this foundation, or place two instead of one, and the whole fabric shakes, the nation crumbles to pieces. It is not merely the family hearth that is destroyed, but the throne of the King is undermined. Bonds the most sacred and needful Lamech breaks. The most ancient and venerable law of earth he tramples on. Lust has gotten the mastery in him. He is the true type of those 'filthy dreamers' who 'defile the flesh' (Jude 8); of those who in the last days are to 'walk after the flesh, in the lust of uncleanness, having eyes full of adultery' (2 Pet. 2). And as Lamech's sin threw open the floodgates of lasciviousness, so may the sins of those who in our day are walking in his steps be throwing open these same floodgates, and ripening the world for the judgment of the great day.
2. As a murderer.—Lust had led to adultery, and adultery had led to violence and murder. We are not told the name of him whom he slew. It matters not. He is a murderer,—true follower of Cain,—true offspring of the serpent, of him who was 'a murderer from the beginning' (John 8:44). Abhor Lamech's spirit as we would that of Satan. Flee anger, passion, revenge,—of all that would lead, however remotely, to bloodshedding. In Cain, it was envy; in Lamech, lust. Flee both.
3. As a boaster of his evil deeds.—He does the deed of blood, and he is not ashamed of it; nay, he glories in it,—nay, glories in it to his own wives. There is no confession of sin here, no repentance, not even Cain's partial humbling. Thus iniquity lifts up its head and waxes bold in countenance, defying God and vaunting before men, as if the deed had been one of honour and not of shame. 'Boasters' are to rise up in the last days (2 Tim. 3:2), specially boasters of evil, like Lamech. Men are to 'boast themselves in mischief' (Ps. 52:7). The wicked is to 'boast of his heart's desire' (Ps. 10:3).
4. As one taking refuge in the crimes of others.—He makes Cain not a warning, but an example. He perverts God's purpose in sparing Cain, and takes courage in evil from Cain's example. He 'goes in the way of Cain' (Jude 11), and makes no account of God's awful monuments of indignation against sin. He sins because Cain sinned! He thinks he has a right to sin, because Cain sinned! Oh, desperate perversity of man's heart! What will it not make an excuse for sinning? And yet it always tries to find an excuse or an example, as if afraid and ashamed to sin unless for some reason, or with some example before it!
5. As one perverting God's forbearance.—He trifles with sin, because God showed mercy to another. He tramples on righteousness, because it is tempered with grace. He sets vengeance at nought, because God is long-suffering. Instead of saying, 'God is so loving that I dare not sin;' he says, 'God is so loving that I will go on in sin without limit.' Divine compassion has no effect in softening his
obstinacy; but 'after his hardness and impenitent heart, he treasures up to himself wrath against the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God' (Rom. 2:5). Thus men still turn God's grace into lasciviousness, and make Christ the minister of sin!
6. As a scoffer.—He believes in no judgment, and makes light of sin's recompense. His words are evidently the words of a scoffer, and of one who believed in no wrath of God against the workers of iniquity. He speaks like the scoffers of the last days, 'Where is the promise of his coming? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation' (2 Pet. 3:1–3). Is not this the mocking that we hear on every side? No day of judgment, no righteous vengeance against sin, no condemnation of the transgressor! God has borne long with the world, He will bear longer with it still! He may do something to dry up the running sore of its miseries; but as for its guilt, He will make no account of that, for 'God is love'! But what then becomes of law, or of righteousness, or of the difference between good and evil? And what becomes of God's past proclamations of law, His manifestations of righteousness, His declarations of abhorrence of all sin? Was Adam's ejection from paradise the mere attempt to cure a disease, and not the condemnation of his guilt? Was the deluge the mere drying up of the world's running sore of wretchedness, that it might start healthy and vigorous on a new course, instead of being the expression of God's estimate of human guilt, and His determination to prevent men from imagining that He was indifferent to the evil of sin, and, as the God of love, that He could only treat it as a sad misfortune, but not as an infinite and unalterable crime against love, and majesty, and truth, and government, and holiness?
Ver. 25. 'And Adam knew his wife again; and she bare a son, and called his name Seth (that is, set or appointed): for God, said she, hath appointed me another seed instead of Abel, whom Cain slew.'
With Lamech's history ends the inspired record of the line of Cain. They pass away, and are seen no more. Their memory rots, and their names are forgotten. No man writes their story, or builds their monument. With Lamech's murderous vauntings, the sounds of their proud ungodliness die away in our ears. His voice is the last that we hear of the children of Cain. Cain the first, Lamech the last, are the representatives of the race,—its alpha and its omega. Brief but awful summary of the world's enmity to God, and rebellion against the promised seed! Enough to show us what the seed of the serpent is; what man's heart is; what the world is, with all its art, and science, and melody, and beauty. It has made evil its good; it has called darkness light; it has fashioned for its own worship its gods of the intellect, its gods of the flesh, to whom alone it bows down, disowning the true God, rejecting all allegiance to Him, banishing Him from earth, and seeking to make for itself a home on its surface without Him,—a circle for its joys to move in without His love.
But now the scene changes. A vision, bright though brief, passes before us, like a sudden burst of sunshine on a dark troubled sea. We get a glimpse of the holy family, the household of the redeemed and separated ones, who, in the midst of a world where evil is overflowing, are still faithful to God, and believers in the promised seed.
We are carried back to Abel and his bloody grave. He,—the Isaac of Adam's house, the hope of his father and the joy of his mother, in whom the promise of redemption seemed about to be fulfilled,—he was cut down, like a flower at dawn. It might seem as if, with him, his parents' hopes lay buried, and the prospects of the race blighted. It was not merely their feelings that were torn, but it was their faith, that, like Abraham's, was tried to the uttermost. Now, however, God is to visit them in tender love. He not only fills up the void in the family circle, and pours consolation into their wounded spirits, but He lifts up their drooping faith and gives it a new foundation to rest on. To Eve is born a third son; and he comes to them as the gift of love and the pledge of hope. Eve names him Seth, which means 'set'
or 'placed' or 'appointed,' as being expressly given to her in room of Abel whom Cain slew. In this her faith shows itself again; for in the case of her three sons, it is she herself who gives the names, and in them displays her faith. In Cain, it was simple and triumphant faith, that had not yet entered into conflict, nor known what trials and crosses are. In Abel's, it was the utterance of hope deferred, making the heart sick, and realizing strangership on earth and 'vanity' in creation. And now, in Seth, it is faith reassured and comforted, brought to rest in God, as able to fulfil to the uttermost all that He had promised.
(1.) She recognises God in this. It is not the mere 'law of nature;' it is the Lord. It is in the fulfilment of his Sovereign purpose that He is doing this.
(2.) She gives a name expressive of her faith. She calls her infant the appointed one, the substituted one. She saw God making up her loss, filling up the void, providing a seed, through which the promised deliverer was to come.
(3.) She fondly calls to mind her martyred son. The way in which she does this, shows the yearning of her heart over him who was taken away, as if his place was one which needed to be supplied, as if there were a blank in her bosom which God only knew how to supply. She had learned, doubtless, that 'blessed are the dead that die in the Lord;' but still her heart went out fondly after the beloved child, and she could not be comforted till she had one like him to fill up his room. It is not sentimentalism; it is faith. It is not mere maternal love; it is faith, faith that clung to the memory of her holy son, as one not merely beloved of herself, but beloved of her God.
Ver. 26. 'And to Seth, to him also there was born a son; and he called his name Enos: then began men to call upon the name of the Lord.'
We are yet to have another glimpse of the holy seed, the heavenly family, not merely passing onwards as strangers, but shining as lights in the world. God has reserved for Himself not one family, but many, in this age—and these are letting their light shine. God's witnesses seem not few, but many. To Seth a son is born, and though his name imports nothing great in so far as the flesh is concerned; yet it seems that he was not only of the seed of the godly, but himself a man of faith; nay, a man mighty in word and deed for God. For in his days, and probably through his influence, a mighty and blessed work seems to have been accomplished, and men now publicly united together to worship Jehovah, gathering round the primeval altar at the gate of paradise, and there, over the bleeding sacrifice, calling upon the name of the Lord.
In Enos—the 'feeble mortal,' as his name imports, the bruised reed, the man who has no confidence in the flesh—we see a faithful witness for God,—one who gathers into one the scattered families of believers, and unites them in the worship of the living God.
Thus ebbs and flows the tide of heavenly life on earth. Thus has the cause of God been carried on,—not steadily progressing, but often cast back, and the saints reduced to a handful; then once more reviving, and believers added to the Church in numbers. Onwards from Seth's day the work has proceeded in this way, and is to do so till the Lord come. Let us not be discouraged; yet let us not seek great things for ourselves; but simply to do the Lord's work in our day, and to reach the reward.