by Henry Law
Numbers 10:2. Make thee two trumpets of silver.
Sinai’s ordinances end here. The hallowed mount must now be left. But before the onward signal sounds, God speaks again. A final token testifies that Israel’s every matter occupies His heart. A mandate is given to form trumpets. There are two. Their metal is pure silver. As in the golden candle-stick, each is constructed from one piece. There is no joint, no link, no mixture. The priests alone may use them. Their purpose is fourfold. (1.) Their trumpet note convenes assemblies to the tabernacle door. (2.) They sound when the moving pillar calls the tribes to march (Num 10:2). (3.) They warn when hostile armies threaten battle (Num 10:9). (4.) On festive days they peal melodiously around the blood-stained altar. Such are these trumpets. Such is their use. Each order is divine.
Reader, this is our day of grace. We live, that we may glean soul-profit. The Bible is our harvest field. Here this ordinance now meets us and offers no small riches to our store. An obvious thought stands on the threshold. We see God’s all-pervading care. He directs all things for His people’s good. Their smallest arrangements are made in heaven. How happy then is the child of faith! The grand concerns of his eternal home are firmly settled. The door is opened; the passport is provided; fit robes are wrought by the God-man’s redeeming work. A new heart, suited for pure joys, is created by the Spirit. But this is not all. Heavenly plans are not restricted to these heavenly things. Each little matter on the earthly stage is the offspring of decree. The countless links in each day’s chain of providences are framed above. The way then must be right, because divinely marked. Chance guides no vessel through life’s waves.
Hence learn to scorn no matter as too small for thought. There are no trifles in a soul’s career. What is very small sometimes seems to turn the scale for heaven or hell. Make conscience of each trivial event. It has an influence on eternity. When God appears, to order two silver trumpets for the camp, surely He stamps all little things with magnitude.
The material must be silver. This is a metal carefully prepared. Repeated fires cleanse it from all dross. Hence it is an emblem of rare purity. “The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times” (Ps 12:6). Each vessel in the camp of God must thus be clean. “Holiness becometh Thine house, O Lord, for ever” (Ps 93:5). Ministers should precede with silver-brightness. The flock should follow, as silver without alloy.
Let us now draw nearer to the camp. Two priests are seen. Each blows a silver trumpet. Light falls hence on the office of God’s ministers. Their voice should sound with trumpet-clearness through the flock. They are entrusted with God’s message to a fallen world. Theirs is the privilege to tell the story of redeeming grace. They bear grand tidings, which are life to the dead, health to the sick, liberty to the captive, joy to the mourner, comfort to the broken-hearted, wealth to the poor, sight to the blind, recovery to the lost, strength to the weak. As heralds, they have to announce that God is reconciled, a ransom found, a remedy provided, a Saviour given, a Deliverer sent. It is their work to cry, Behold the cross; look to the dying Lamb; flee to His sheltering arms; hide in His wounded side; nestle beneath His wings; put on the glories of His righteousness; trust in His finished work; plead His atoning sacrifice; present by faith His wrath-appeasing death; receive Him as all wisdom, joy and peace; cling to Him through life, in death, for ever – in answer to all Satan’s wiles and conscience-fears, shout that Christ is all.
They have to warn of the world’s murderous arts; of sin’s tremendous doom; of fire, which is never quenched; of anguish, which exceeds all thought; of an eternity in darkness and despair. Should they not then, with clarion-shrillness, rouse the flock? The silver trumpets sent a piercing note. So should the gospel herald utter aloud the gospel news. Away with timid whisper and stammering tongue. The servant’s lips should glory in the master’s name.
Let statements be clear as the sun without one cloud, transparent as the crystal stream, distinct as the unmuffled trumpet’s voice. Note that the trumpets were of one piece. So is the gospel message. There is no mixture in it. It is no piecemeal fabric. It is not partly grace and partly works. It does not call men to finish what the Lord commenced. From first to last, in origin, in progress, in conclusion, gospel salvation is a free gift. All merit is in Christ. He opens heaven. He closes hell. He washes, adorns, prepares. He presents His children pure and faultless. Their pardon and their fitness is His work. They follow Him, because He calls. They love, because He wins their hearts. They conquer, because He is their sword and shield. They persevere, because His hand upholds. Their grace is the offspring of His love. Their glory is the payment of His worth. Thus Christ is all. No diverse metal soiled these trumpets. No intermingling error should soil pulpits.
The type, moreover, fixes attention on the Christian as a worshipper, a pilgrim, a warrior, a son of joy. Let the occasions on which these trumpets sounded be now marked more closely.
1. They call the people to God’s sanctuary.
Mark this: it is a gospel ordinance that worshippers should throng the holy courts – that public prayer and praise should reverence God’s glorious name. Who will not hasten to obey? Who will not join the people who keep holy day? A saintly congregation is a foretaste of heaven. It is earth’s holiest scene. What sanctity pervades the spot! What blessedness inspires the company! The triune God is mighty in the midst. The Spirit intercedes within the soul. He prompts longing desires. He makes sin’s burden to be felt. He deepens the grief of repentance. He fans the flame of wrestling supplication. He brightens the torch of love. The great High Priest draws near. He takes each prayer and washes it in cleansing blood. He perfumes every note of praise. He then presents the fragrant sacrifice before the throne. The Father is well pleased. The service is accepted. Pardons are sealed. Blessings fly down. The faithful meet to honour God. They honour and are honoured. They come in faith, and they depart in peace.
Do not think, or say, that such assembling is superfluous. Doubtless God is not linked to means. He can bless in solitude, and hear those who are alone in their closet. But it has pleased Him to order public worship. His commands are always gain. The pious congregation thrives. Faith hears, obeys and finds obedience to be wealth.
2. They give commands to march.
Christians are a portion of a marching host. The Bible warns that earth is not their rest. They live a stranger-life. They occupy a moving tent. They hold a pilgrim staff. What is stationary here? Our days are a fast-flowing stream. The rapid current rushes onward. Let no heart then cast anchor on these sands. Let affection not twine its fibres around earthly stems. Christians’ mansions are on high. Their home is far away. Let loins be girt. Let all be ready for departure. Death should not find a Christian unequipped for a march. It is a friend, for whom expecting eyes should watch. The ears should listen for the chariot wheels. When it appears, let there be no tremor, no surprise, no work unfinished. The gospel’s silver trumpets ever cry, Arise, depart, come up hither.
3. They sound for war.
The life of faith is one incessant fight. Beneath the cross, a sword is drawn, whose scabbard is cast far away. The attitude of bold defiance is assumed. Until the victor’s crown is won, unflinching combat must go on. The foes are many, mighty, wily, restless. They meet us at each step. They lurk in every corner. They infest our public walk. They enter our closed doors. They are within, around, without. Count, if you can, the hateful legions who make up hell’s hosts; they all rush at the soul. Survey the world, its snares, its foul seductions, its enticing arts, its siren smiles, its venom, sneers, its terrifying threats. Each in its turn assails, and each renews the assault when foiled. Behold the heart and all its brood of lusts and raging passions. How often it betrays! How often it beguiles! The gospel trumpet ever cries, Battle is near; stand firm; resist.
But when the gospel calls, it promises sure triumph. It gives an armour, wrought of God. This, rightly used, cannot be broken. It points to a Captain, by whose side no battle can be lost – beneath whose banner, no warrior was ever slain.
Believer, hear and go forth in hope. Face all your foes. Grasp manfully your sword. Use skilfully your shield. Lift up your head, safe in salvation’s helmet. Shout boldly your great Leader’s name. The fight will soon be over. The victor’s song will soon be on your lips.
4. They have a further use.
In the grand feasts they cheer the worshippers around the sacrifices. While the altar streams with blood and happy crowds look on, the heavens resound with these exulting clangs. The precept is obeyed, “Sing aloud unto God our strength: make a joyful noise unto the God of Jacob” (Ps 81:1).
Believer, thus too the gospel teaches you to joy – to joy with a heart abounding with melodious praise, when you in faith contemplate, and in worship plead, the meritorious death of Christ.
My soul, obey. Remember Calvary and sing, shout, pour forth music of delight. Let all that is within you swell the adoring sound. Gaze on the cross and let exulting hallelujahs testify how fervently you love – how rapturously you extol, how undoubtedly you trust – that death which is your life, that blood which is your ransom, those wounds which are your shelter, that Jesus who is your full salvation, that Christ who is your all.
Reader, the gospel trumpet is now within your hearing. But it is a prelude to another clang. Yet a little while and “the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God” (1 Th 4:16). That note will open every grave and wake the sleeping dust and gather mankind to the great white throne. Quickly you will hear it, for every ear shall hear. It introduces the coronation day of saints. It is the knell of execution to the lost. Are you prepared? Do you stand ready, one with Christ? If you heed now the gospel trumpet calling you to Him, you will then hear the trumpet of the last day calling you to glory.
It is faith’s happiest hour when it goes forth in spirit to intermingle in the coming scene. “We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. . . . Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (1 Cor 15:51-55).
^1 Taken, with editing, from Christ Is All: Numbers and Deuteronomy.