“THE name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it and is safe.” How thoroughly would the significance of this passage be understood and appreciated by men and women of Old Testament times. In the warlike conditions then prevailing each village required its strong tower, to the safety of which all the inhabitants fled on the first approach of danger. The godly man has his refuge also. In times of spiritual danger he turns to the name of the Lord. This is his strong tower. Its gates stand open to receive him, and as he enters they close behind him. Its walls encircle him and he abides in safety. When faith is in lively exercise such running is easy, for by faith alone is it possible. Faith is that which knows the name of the Lord, and, knowing it, trusts in it; for “they that know Thy name, they will put their trust in Thee.” To run is the function of faith in times of spiritual danger; not to run anywhere, but to the safety of the Tower. This running to safety is not cowardice; it is such running as alone fits for facing the danger and triumphing over it. Many shun godliness because they think it will make cowards of them. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Where in the annals of any country is there such a list of heroes at all comparable with the 11th chapter of Hebrews? These were men of faith and women of faith. Their courage was the courage of faith, and “by it they subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions.” They believed in God: His name was their strong tower, having run into it they were safe—safe even when they were being stoned, sawn asunder, tempted, slain with the sword. That which provides security in such circumstances is surely a strong tower, and the name of the Lord is just such a tower. As a name distinguishes between different persons, so His name distinguishes Him from all false gods and He appears revealed as the One Living and True God. By His name He makes himself known among men, for the name of God is a revelation by Himself of Himself, and in it He shows forth His being,
character, perfections, acts, relationships, and glory. Who other than Himself could know what He is, or by searching find Him out? In the name of God lies the safety of His people, and when he gives peace who shall then make trouble? For the name of God is a tower, strong with the infinite strength of Jehovah. That name he has written across the vast expanse of Creation, and in the marvellous works of Providence. There His Eternal Power and Godhead are written in characters sufficiently clear to leave atheism and idolatry utterly without excuse. But as the high and strong tower of His people’s salvation it is in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments that it has pleased the Lord to write His name. The whole Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, is a progressive filling in of the name of the Lord—a name which in its fullness is made up of many precious names, each one contributing its own measure to the making known of the Infinite and Eternal One who is far beyond and above all measure. For us this name is none other than “Our Lord Jesus Christ,” “the Word made flesh and dwelling among us,” “God manifest in the flesh.” And this is the righteous man’s strong tower.
But who is this righteous man? Who is this highly privileged one? How comes he by such a title and character? Why, in the first instance, it comes to him in the very act of running into the name of the Lord as his high tower. He runs because he has no righteousness, and he runs unto the name of the Lord in order to get righteousness. As a guilty, lost sinner, utterly devoid of righteousness, he runs unto the name of the Lord—the “Lord our Righteousness,” for “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone that believeth”; and running unto Him is believing on Him, and being found in Him, not having our own righteousness but being clothed upon with His righteousness which is the “Righteousness of God.” He runs because he must, constraint and dire necessity are laid upon him; he flees from the wrath to come, from those sins that search him out, from the accusations of a guilty conscience, from the awful curse of a holy law, from the wrath of an offended God. In the gospel of the free grace of God he finds an open door, and above it an invitation beckoning him on and assuring him of welcome, “Come unto me, I will give you rest,” “And him that cometh I will in no wise cast out,” and entering in he finds forgiveness, peace, security; for in Christ Jesus the name of the Lord is a strong tower, “and there is therefore now no condemnation.”
But the righteous man has a further cause for fear and concern. There is that of grace in him that hates sin, that hates his own sin and sinfulness, that hates the body of sin and death which is his natural fallen self. He becomes increasingly aware of its presence and workings as his knowledge of himself increases—pride, unbelief, hypocrisy, deceit, worldliness—an evil heart of unbelief, desperately wicked, the whole bent of which is to depart from the Living God. And whither shall he flee from this further terror? How shall he escape from himself? Shall he go to Church? Shall he go to his Bible? Shall he go to prayer? By all means, but still he cannot escape from himself; and this evil heart of his turns worship into hypocrisy, prayer into formality and unbelief seals his Bible and he cannot get in it what he would. Oh, wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death—this body of death which is myself? Is there no escape from the wretchedness, the fears, the anxiety? Oh, yes, there is. “I thank God through our Lord Jesus Christ,” for the name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous runneth out of self, away from self, into it, and is safe, for Christ is not only the justification of all who believe in Him, but he is also their sanctification, for this is His name, “Who of God is made unto us sanctification,” and I suppose this is in part what Paul means when he says, “I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
By some mysterious yet most effective way the high tower has come to be within himself, separating by all the power of the cross between his soul—his real self, Christ in him, his life—and this body of corruption within him, which is his natural self, and from which he seeks to flee. There is no absolute and complete sanctification in this life, and as long as a particle of sinful self remains there must be the constant exercise of running out of self into Christ by way of the cross which will keep the true believer active to the end of his days, then “the souls of believers are at their death made perfect in holiness and do immediately pass into glory; and their bodies, being still united to Christ, do rest in their graves until the resurrection.”