“How will you manage in the swelling of the Jordan?” [Jeremiah 12:5, KJV]
The Land of Canaan may be used as a picture of two states or conditions in the Christian’s life. It was the land of rest to the children of Israel after a exhausting pilgrimage in the wilderness. Now it is written that “we who have believed enter that rest.” A true Christian possessed of strong faith will not have a wilderness state on earth, rather it will be a land flowing with milk and honey, because his faith will give him the things he hoped for and make him certain of what he does not see. Many disciples live a life of depression, anguish, and discomfort, which would be completely changed if they had faith in God, and lived a higher life of devotion and love. Canaan may be considered as a picture of that better state of Christianity which some enjoy. It is not altogether free from pain; the Canaanites still live in the land, and there still are wars and conflicts; but still there is rest, and there is the spirit of service in the cultivation of the promised land. But Canaan, the Promised Land, is generally used as a picture of “the rest which is waiting for the people of God” beyond the skies. Heaven is frequently described as corresponding to the earthly inheritance of the Jews—It is our hope, the end of our pilgrimage. It contains our Jerusalem, and the temple, “not built by humans hands.”
When this is the view taken, then the Jordan river naturally equates to death. Its dark waters form a picture in our minds of the cold stream through which we must wade through in our dying hour. It is a beautiful emblem, and most likely we have all sung Dr. Watt’s hymn with great feeling—
“There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day eliminates the night,
And pleasures banish pain.”
There everlasting spring abides,
And never-withering flowers;
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
This heavenly land from ours.”
Taking “the swelling of the Jordan” [meaning the Jordan at flood stage] to represent the precise time of our death, the question really is, what shall we do when it is our time to die? or “How will you manage in the swelling of the Jordan?”
I. We notice, in the first place, that this is an EXCEEDINGLY PRACTICAL QUESTION.
How will you manage? Is the question. There are some subjects which are more or less matters of pure faith and personal feeling; and though all Christian doctrines bear more or less directly upon the Christian life, yet they are not commonly considered practical subjects. Our text, however, brings us face to face with a matter which is essentially a matter of doing and of acting; it asks how will we conduct ourselves in the hour of our death.
We sometimes hear the remark made by those who object to doctrinal preaching, that we are too speculative, and that we utter our own opinions, which feed men’s fancies, but do not regulate life. Now we believe that every promise leads to a doctrine, and every doctrine has its purpose and duty; but here we have a subject that is clearly practical, I am only afraid it will be a little too practical for some; and will only affect their emotions and feelings, and therefore they will fail to act on the truth and put it into practice, and demonstrate its power in the last days of their lives.
Christians may differ from others on some points, but I am sure that here we are united in belief—we must all die, and none of us should die unprepared. There is a difference of opinion as to what we ought to do at the beginning of our Christian life; I maintain that we ought to follow Christ, and be baptized by being immersed in water, for “it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness;” others oppose that as being unnecessary, unwise, or what not; we differ at the beginning of life, but we agree in the end; we must all die; and we all want to die the death of the righteous.
II. We notice, in the second place, that it is UNDOUBTEDLY A PERSONAL QUESTION.
How will you manage? It individualizes us, and makes each one of us come face to face with a dying hour. Now we all need this, and it will be good for each one of us to take a brief look into the grave. We are too apt to regard all men as mortal except ourselves. Somehow we can see the frailty of life much more clearly in other people than we can in ourselves. We are far too blind to our own weakness, and would do well to ask ourselves, each one of us, “My soul, how will you manage in the swelling of the Jordan?” “How will you fare when it is your time to die?”
The ancient warrior who wept because he realized that a hundred years later, his immense army would be gone, and not a man would remain to tell of their accomplishments. That warrior would have been wiser, if he would had also wept for himself, and left his bloody wars, and lived as a man who must one day die, and find after death a day of judgment.
Each one of us must die. If I were addressing all the philosophers of the world, I would say, “All your combined wisdom cannot lengthen the days of one of you even a single minute. You may calculate the distance of the stars, and the weight of the planets, but you cannot tell me when one of you will die, nor how many minutes are left until the exit of each spirit from the world.” Now, I say to you, that the wisest of you must die; and you do not know not how soon that may be. It is also true with the mightiest, and the richest of men. Samson was mastered by someone stronger than man, and the wealthiest of man cannot bribe death to stay away for a single hour. We all come into the world one by one, and will go out of it in the same way—all alone. Loved ones come to the edge of the dark stream, but there they shake hands and say “good-bye,” and we go on alone.
“This article originally appeared here at Bible Bulletin Board.”
