Jeremiah 49:27
"I will set fire to the walls of Damascus; it will consume the fortresses of Ben-hadad."
Sermons
The Fall of Damascus; Or, the Lovely and the Lovable LostS. Conway














Here and in Isaiah and Amos we have predictions of the overthrow of Damascus. "The burden of Damascus" says Isaiah. "Behold! Damascus is taken away from being a city, and it shall be a ruinous heap." Jeremiah likens the agitated minds of the multitude of her inhabitants to the unquiet sea - still not for one moment. And the cause of that unquietness is their sorrow at the desolations coming on them. And yet she was no mean city. No; she was distinguished indeed. The hearts of men, in all ages of the world, have been drawn to her, and are so still. For she was and is surpassingly lovely. Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole land around, compared to the Paradise in which our first father was placed by God, and celebrated by every writer, sacred and secular, that has had occasion to speak of her or her history. "It is the oldest city in the world. Its fame begins with the earliest patriarchs and continues to modern times. While other cities of the East have risen and decayed, Damascus is still where and what it was. While Babylon is a heap in the desert, Nineveh buried beneath her mounds, and Tyre a ruin on the seashore, it remains what it is called in the prophecies of Isaiah, ' the head of Syria.' And ever since, down to our own days, its praise is celebrated. It was 'a predestinated capital.' Nor is it difficult to explain why its freshness has never Faded through all its series of vicissitudes and wars." Men have ever loved it and love it still. As the traveller from the west climbs up and up the steep passes of the great Lebanon range, and at length nears their eastern side, there, on the summit of a cliff, high up above the plain beneath, he looks down on the city of Damascus. "At the foot of the cliff on which the beholder stands, a river bursts forth from the mountain in which it has had birth. That river, as if in a moment, scatters over the plain, through a circle of thirty miles, the verdure which had hitherto been confined to its single channel. It is like the bursting of a shell, the eruption of a volcano - but an eruption, not of death, but of life. Far and wide extends in front the level plain, its horizon bare, its lines of surrounding hills bare, all bare, far away on the road to Palmyra and Bagdad. In the midst of this plain lies at your feet the vast island of deep verdure, walnuts and apricots hanging above, corn and grass below." The river is its life. It is drawn out in watercourses and spread in all directions. For miles around it is a wilderness of gardens - gardens with roses among the tangled shrubberies, and with fruit on the branches overhead. Everywhere among the trees the murmur of unseen rivulets is heard. Even in the city, which is in the midst of the garden, the clear rushing of the current is a perpetual refreshment. Every dwelling has its fountain; and at night, when the sun has set behind Mount Lebanon, the lights of the city are seen flashing on the water. All travellers in all ages have paused to feast their eyes on the loveliness of the city as they first behold it from the cliffs of Lebanon. Abana and Pharpar still flash and gleam as they flow along amid her fragrant gardens and by her dark olive groves. Snow-capped Hermon and the rugged range of Lebanon still keep over her their wonted watch and ward. Hence she may well be taken as the symbol of all that is lovely and fair in outward life, all that is bright and beautiful in the moral nature of man. But yet she fell, and she has lost her place amongst the nations forever. Thus she suggests to the thoughtful reader the heart searching truth that the lovely and the lovable may yet be lost - those on whom Jesus, looking, loves them, because they are so lovable, may yet miss of the life that is eternal; and he may say, as he did to one of them, "One thing thou lackest." Observe, then -

I. THERE HAVE BEEN SOULS CHARACTERIZED BY MUCH THAT IS LOVELY AND LOVABLE, AND YET HAVE NOT ENTERED INTO THE KINGDOM OF GOD. Read the history of Orpah. Then there was that young ruler to whom reference has already been made. And the many who flocked around our Saviour when he was here on earth, and whom he likened to the stony ground hearers. They all had much that was excellent and good about them, but they failed to bring forth fruit unto life eternal.

II. AND THERE ARE MANY SUCH NOW. Were our Lord amongst us now, he would love them as he did him of whom the Gospel tells. They may be young in years; in the morning of life, fair and comely to look upon, vigorous and strong, well educated, intelligent, bright and clever, cultured themselves and loving refinement and culture in others; they may be possessed of very attractive moral qualities, amiable and kindly, ready to do a kind action and scorning to do a mean one, possessed of and deserving an honourable reputation, of unquestioned veracity, of high honour, modest and pure in word and deed, gentle and courteous in manner, unassuming, thoughtful of the feelings and wishes of others; parents and friends, family and neighbours, all speak well of them, and those who know them best honour and love them most. Now, there are thousands of such as these. They are loved and lovable; they must be so. And as we picture them to ourselves we almost shrink from saying that such may nevertheless miss of the kingdom of God; like Damascus in all that is externally beautiful, and yet, like her, come under the condemnation of God. It seems scarce believable, and yet in the face of God's Word what can we say? Nicodemus was one such, and yet our Lord told him, "Except a man be born again," etc. We would be as charitable as the Word of God - and if we were that would make us far more charitable than the most of us are - but we would not be more so, for that would be to be uncharitable and unfaithful both to God and to the souls of men. And therefore we say that a man may be all that is externally fair and lovable, and yet, like bright beautiful Damascus, come under the condemnation of God; lovely and lovable like him whom Jesus loved, and yet, because lacking the one thing, shut out - self shut out - from the kingdom of God. And observe -

III. THIS RULE OF GOD IS NOT ARBITRARY, BUT JUST AND INDISPENSABLE. For all that we have said may coexist along with the will alien from the will of God, the heart not yet truly surrendered to him. It was so in that typical instance of this character to whom we have so often referred. For when brought to the test he refused the will of God. For the proof of our loyalty to God is seen, not in the many things that we are and do which are in keeping with our own inclinations, but in those that we are ready to do when they involve a real taking up of the cross and contradict those inclinations. A cultured, refined disposition may lead us, out of regard to our own self-interest, to do and be that which wins for us the applause and favour of our fellow men. It would be a pain and grief to us to be otherwise. All the commands of the moral law we may have kept from our youth up, and hence conclude, and others - even Christ's disciples - may think also, that we lack nothing. And in fact we may lack nothing but that one thing without which all else is vain and useless for our admission into the kingdom of God. But in that kingdom the will of God must be paramount, or it ceases to be the kingdom of God. Suppose one of the heavenly bodies could choose, and did so, to swerve at times from its appointed orbit, and to take a course of its own; the whole universe would be thrown out of order, and confusion and destruction must ensue. Suppose one string of harp, one pipe of organ, instead of giving its proper note, were to resolve to utter a sound different from that which was appointed for it; what jarring discord must result! no true music could such harp or organ give. And so in God's kingdom, if there be one discordant will, how can the harmony and peace and blessedness of heaven any longer exist? If in our homes the law of the house be violated by any one of its members, how little would such a household deserve the sweet name of home! For the good of all, therefore, and not for any arbitrary reason, one law, one will, must be paramount. It is so in our earthly homes; it must yet more be so in the home of God, the kingdom of heaven. The heart, the will, must be surrendered to God if we are to be at last numbered amongst the inhabitants of God's eternal home.

IV. WHAT, THEN, SHALL WE SAY TO SUCH? Shall we bid you set light store by those varied qualities which draw forth the affection and esteem of your fellow men? Shall we say - Care nothing for that which, when Jesus looked upon, even he could not but love? Still less shall we say that all these things are of the nature of sin. On the contrary, we would say - Give God thanks for these things. For, indeed, it is of his great mercy that you have been led to approve of them, and to turn away with disgust and abhorrence from that which is contrary thereto. Why were you made to hear God's voice? - for it was his voice which called you, and his hand which led you to this good choice. Without doubt the parents of that young ruler gave God thanks again and again when they saw the character of their son unfolding and developing in all such high minded, pure, and amiable ways. And when we see the like in our children, do we not, ought we not to, give thanks likewise? What, then, do we say to you but this? -

(1) Render thanks to God that he has thus inclined your heart; and then

(2) go on to ask him who has been so good to you thus far that he will be more gracious still, and give you that one thing which yet you lack - the new heart, the perfectly surrendered will, the faith in God of which such surrender is the chief expression. Remember that the merchantman who became the happy owner of the pearl of great price was not content with the many goodly pearls after which he had been seeking and which he had already attained, No; but when he saw that pure, all-precious, lustrous pearl, he resolved that that should be his, and hence all was surrendered that he might make it his own. Now, you resemble him in two out of the three great facts of his history. Like him, you have sought and found many goodly pearls. The goodly pearls of moral excellence, virtue, amiability, many things lovely and of good report. You prize these things, as you ought to do. You have sought after them and have found them. And now, again, like that merchantman, there is shown and offered to you that pearl which is more precious than all - even the gift of God, which is Jesus Christ, the eternal salvation which comes to us alone through him. Yes, that is offered to you - that gift of the regenerated nature, that new heart and right spirit, which they who come to Christ receive. But now, in the third and chief point of all, would that you resembled that merchantman. He was willing to part with all he had for the sake of the pearl of great price. Are you? To persuade hereto we add two words.

1. The first by way of encouragement. That merchant had to part with his goodly pearls for the sake of the one all-precious one. You not only will not have to do this, but they will become more goodly and more indisputably yours than ever if the all-precious one be yours. You will have to renounce none of them, nothing lovely and of good report, nothing wherein there is any virtue or any praise. On the contrary, they shall gain an added lustre from their association with that chief excellence which we would have you win. Like as there is so great difference between a fair landscape on a bright summer's morn, and that same scene looked upon amid the mists of winter, so shall all that is virtuous and good in us attain to a higher beauty, a more perfect loveliness, by the bright shining of the Sun of righteousness upon them. Apart from him they are cold, dim, vague, uncertain; but in him and through him they become radiant and more beautiful than ever. And not only so, but they are more securely yours; they are far less likely to be lost.

2. By way of warning, let me remind you that on the wedding garment in which we must all be clothed if we would enter in and abate in the festivities of the marriage supper of the Lamb - on that garment there shines resplendent but one jewel; it is this pearl of great price. If we have not that, no bedizening of ourselves with such goodly pearls as we may possess, or think we possess, will serve instead. Many will seek, do seek, so to adorn themselves. But all such righteousness is rejected, all such trust refused. Oh, then, to your virtues and other lovely and lovable qualities add this - trust in the blessed Saviours Name, which will include in it the heart perfectly surrendered, the will yielded up to him! - C.

There is sorrow (as) on the sea; it cannot be quiet.
That which was true of the cities spoken of in our text, is also true, though in a different sense, of every voyager on the sea of life. "There is sorrow (as) on the sea."

I. SORROW AS ON THE SEA IS DIVINELY PREDICTED. Voyagers you all must be. Out on that wide mysterious ocean which is swept by storms untold, and which teems with dangers innumerable, you must sail. Many of you axe as yet but as landsmen lying in the docks. You are admiring your vessel, and putting on nautical airs, and wondering when you will be freed from the trammels of the shore. Some of you are just dropping down the stream, your breasts big with hope, and your imagination painting glowing pictures of the ocean life beyond. 'Mid the songs of the sailors, and the music of the passengers, bright visions are rising of sunny seas and blue skies, of mirth and boundless happiness. With all my heart I wish you God-speed. I would not unnecessarily becloud that fair prospect. May the sunbeams which begild the waves around you follow you abundantly. And yet, though at the risk of being charged with unkindness, I must warn you that "there is sorrow on the sea." I would not, I could not, prevent your sailing; but I must remind you of that which should not be always forgotten, that in life's voyage troubles will come.

II. SORROW AS ON THE SEA IS UNIVERSALLY EXPERIENCED.

1. From the mutability of life. I have no wish to play the misanthrope, to paint you a leaden landscape under a lowering sky, where no break of sunshine ever comes to chase the shadows from an ebon sea. There is sunshine! Though all life has its clouds, life is not all sorrow. But while life's joys may be many and real, it will have its sorrows by reason of its changes. To-day the sea may he calm, and the sky may be without a cloud, but even while we speak the glass is falling, and the calm sea will soon be lashed into foaming fury, and the cloudless sky will soon be overcast with messengers of coming woe.

2. From the uncertainties of life. Which way to steer — what to do — whether to enter into this speculation or to avoid that transaction — how to meet this engagement, or how to be relieved of that responsibility — often drives men to their wits' end. Business goes wrong, markets are unsteady, panics are abroad, and fogs and thick darkness so enshroud the mercantile world, that with dangers and uncertainty everywhere around, the perplexed tradesmen often just throws up the helm in despair, and allows the vessel to drift whithersoever the current will take her. And in his spiritual voyage the Christian is not always free from similar sorrow. With the Psalmist, we have sometimes to lament that "we see not our signs."

3. The disappointments of life.(1) Think of life's friendships! Where we anticipated most consolation, there, in the day of our need, we were most bitterly deceived.(2) Look at life's prospects! You remember how hard you toiled to secure that position which you thought would consummate your joys, and be the very climax of your every earthly ambition. You remember how bright your prospects seemed to be. You know that towards the end everything was so apparently propitious that you never for a moment entertained a doubt of success. But you were disappointed l

III. SORROW AS ON THE SEA MAY BE GREATLY MITIGATED.

1. A good ship. Let a sailor be persuaded of the soundness of the ship in which he sails, and "it may blow big guns" — he is comparatively at ease. We want similar faith in the grand old Gospel ship. We want the unswerving confidence which will inspire us ever to say, "I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation." Classed A1 for ever in the heavenly register, this "everlasting Gospel" can never fail. In this good ship millions have reached the "desired haven" in peace; on her deck millions are sailing thither now; and there is room for millions yet unborn.

2. A reliable chart. Without this a man may well be anxious. By what chart are you steering? Is it the Bible, or is it the "Age of Reason"? Blessed be God, we know whom and we know what we believe.

3. Sufficient provision. Lacking provision, what can the sailor do? There is often such "sorrow on the sea." Want often stares men in the face when they are far from port, and when they can by no possible means obtain supplies. This can never happen on board the ship of the Gospel. This vessel is stored abundantly with the choicest provisions of free eternal grace.

(W. H. Burton.)

The ocean is, and always will be, so long as man keeps the faculty of imagination, a mournfully suggestive parable of human life. The restlessness of the sea, its constant alternations of storm and calm, its treachery, for ever deceiving us by false appearances, the atmosphere of mystery that broods over it, all these contribute to make it the natural symbol of man's condition here in this world. Take only one of those characteristics — mysteriousness. David had been visited by this thought also. "Thy judgments," he says, while pondering the strange confusion of good and evil in the world, "are like the great deep." The sea does suggest, with wonderful power, the mysteriousness of God's providence in the affairs of men. "Thy way is in the sea, and Thy path in the great waters, and Thy footsteps are not known." The human mind is by nature prone to the misgiving that fate rather than providence orders the procession of our life. Events, so the temptation whispers, fall out according to an iron law of necessity. There is no loving Father who notes the sparrow's fall, and gives His children their daily bread; neither is there any blessed consummation, any final victory of the good over the evil towards which history may be supposed to move. These hopes are delusive; they rest on no foundation. The only thing of which we are certain is that effect follows upon cause in uniform succession, any given human life being as powerless to quicken, or retard, or alter the movement of this endless chain, as if it were only a tiny bubble molten in the fibre of the iron of one single link. This is what we understand by such words as "destiny," "fate." "necessity," and this is the idea which the sea, looked at as a parable, most easily suggests. You sit upon some rocky promontory and watch the incoming tide. You note how wave after wave dashes itself against the hard face of the cliff, and perishes in the act. You observe that every now and then a larger wave comes in, and seems to make a braver effort; but that also, like its predecessor, falls back and is gone. Meanwhile the general level of the water rises and rises, until a predetermined point is reached, and then, as gradually, the tide recedes, sure to return again as soon as a few hours have past, and to make its mark a little higher, or a little lower, according to rules which the astronomers wrote out long ago, which you might have found all calculated for you in their books before you started on the walk. Surely, if there be anywhere in nature a vivid emblem of the idea of destiny, it is here. And, if anything were needed to heighten the impression which the eye has already carried to the mind, the ear might find it in the monotonous, melancholy music of the breaking waves, a sound which possibly suggested to the mourner among the prophets his pathetic cry, "There is sorrow on the sea." What is the relief for a mind oppressed, weighted down with thoughts like this? "The sea is His, and He made it." "Have faith in God," said our Lord Jesus Christ to His disciples, when they found themselves in perplexity. Have faith in God. He who made the sea is greater than the sea. He who ordained the strangely tangled scheme of providence, is greater than His scheme. He who is responsible for the mystery of human life, holds the key of that mystery in. His hands. Do you ask for proof of this? There is no proof. If there were proof, Christ need not have said, "Have faith in God." Where knowledge leaves off, there faith begins. At the outer boundary of demonstration, belief lifts up her voice and sings. Do you say, Convince me that the idea of destiny is false, and that the idea of providence is true? No, I cannot convince, I can only, by God's help, persuade you; and yet, when once persuaded, you will be as certain as if you had been convinced; for what a man believes with all his heart, he holds as firmly as he does that which he knows with all his mind. "We know," says St. Paul, grandly asserting his faith in a doctrine the opposite of destiny, "that all things work together for good to them that love God." How did he know this? Had it been proved to him by strict processes of reasoning in which his keen intellect had been able to detect no flaw? Was that the ground of the confidence with which he spoke? Far from it. The foundation of his certainty was what he elsewhere calls the "assurance of faith." And who is the teacher of this glad faith? To whom shall we go that we may learn to believe that God is love? I know not, if not to Him who, standing once upon the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, rebuked the wind, and said unto this same sea, "Peace, be still." Did not He, the Redeemer, come into this world, and take our nature upon Him, and suffer death upon the Cross, for the very purpose of freeing men from the bondage of their fears, for the very purpose of breaking up this evil dream of destiny and enfranchising us with the liberty of the sons of God? Has He not made for us, as for Israel of old, a pathway through the dreaded sea, and having overcome the sharpness of death, has He not opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers? Well may He ask, Where is your faith? One who has done so much for us has at least the right to expect that we shall trust Him; having at so great a cost purchased us this freedom, He has at least the right to expect that we shall be thankful for it, and use it as His gift.

(W. R. Huntington, D. D.)

People
Ammonites, Ben, Benhadad, Ben-hadad, Dedan, Elam, Esau, Gad, Hadad, Jeremiah, Kedar, Milcom, Molech, Nebuchadnezzar, Nebuchadrezzar, Teman, Zedekiah
Places
Ai, Arpad, Babylon, Bozrah, Damascus, Dedan, Edom, Elam, Esau, Gomorrah, Hamath, Hazor, Heshbon, Jordan River, Kedar, Moab, Rabbah, Red Sea, Sodom, Teman
Topics
Ben, Benhadad, Ben-hadad, Ben-ha'dad, Burning, Consume, Consumed, Damascus, Devour, Fire, Fortified, Fortresses, Hadad, Houses, Kindle, Kindled, Lighted, Palaces, Strongholds, Towers, Wall, Walls
Outline
1. The judgment of the Ammonites
6. Their restoration
7. The judgment of Edom
23. of Damascus
28. of Kedar
30. of Hazor
34. and of Elam
39. The restoration of Elam

Dictionary of Bible Themes
Jeremiah 49:27

     5315   fortifications

Library
October 30. "Dwell Deep" (Jer. Xlix. 8).
"Dwell deep" (Jer. xlix. 8). God's presence blends with every other thought and consciousness, flowing sweetly and evenly through our business plans, our social converse our heart's affections, our manual toil, our entire life, blending with all, consecrating all, and conscious through all, like the fragrance of a flower, or the presence of a friend consciously near, and yet not hindering in the least the most intense and constant preoccupation of the hands and brain. How beautiful the established
Rev. A. B. Simpson—Days of Heaven Upon Earth

Jeremiah
The interest of the book of Jeremiah is unique. On the one hand, it is our most reliable and elaborate source for the long period of history which it covers; on the other, it presents us with prophecy in its most intensely human phase, manifesting itself through a strangely attractive personality that was subject to like doubts and passions with ourselves. At his call, in 626 B.C., he was young and inexperienced, i. 6, so that he cannot have been born earlier than 650. The political and religious
John Edgar McFadyen—Introduction to the Old Testament

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