Genesis 24:67 And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent, and took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her… I. THIS NEW HOME IS FILLED WITH LOVE. "Isaac loved her," and it is but fair to infer that she loved him. This love is not mere romance or sentiment. It is better than a transient conceit, and is that kind which only deepens and strengthens, as the ideal and the fanciful vanish away. It stands the strain of trial, and falters not before affliction, and what is more wonderful yet, it seems to be only purified by the mutual revelation of every phase of character and every mood of temper, and all the relations and duties of the household. There may be such a thing as "love at first sight," and if it be genuine it only gets more hallowed and more tender as the years roll; but if it is not genuine, if it be only a fancy, a dazzling flash, a temporary spell of lovely witchery, then you soon find either the divorce court in session or the domestic court disagreeing and contending with sensitive intolerance. In the case of the young couple before us, we find that their love, which seems to have been at "first sight," was deep and fond and lasting, and that it was ennobled and blessed with that piety which, like a divine chemistry, made even life's cares and annoyances a means of grace and gracious growth. What a beautiful spectacle this! Two frail natures on their way to the unknown land, maintaining a moral and life-long unity, proving a mutual blessing, constituting an affectionate representation of Christ and the Church, a bulwark for society, and a compound factor in the world's destiny. II. THIS HOME, AS TIME WORE ON, MADE UP FOR MUCH PAIN AND LOSS. "Isaac was comforted after his mother's death." Comforted! The record is not that he forgot her. Ah! he could not possibly do that, and doubtless the bereaved Abraham and he frequently talked about the precious dead! But such was Rebekah's influence, such her delicate and efficient ministry, such her care and company, that the heart of her husband began to heal, and the shadow of the sepulchre to shorten. Every human home ought to be a place of comfort. It is rough enough outside. The especial shade of that which I desire you to see now is this filling the place of the dead, this making up, in a measure, for their loss. These practical hints I have given, are essential elements; but then there is something beyond and more! The home should not only be one of comfort, but COMFORTING! Death is a strange magician even to the believer. He cannot do any real harm to my loved one, and yet he makes me tremble and cry out, as I imagine, say my mother, cruelly smitten and changed. And the wand is still further powerful in making me forget all her blemishes, all her weaknesses, all her failings. I only think of the virtues, the excellences, the splendid qualities of head and heart, and my loss seems irreparable. In many a home there is need for a bright, fresh, loving, tender Rebekah; Heed for a hen]lug and restoring ministry. Your hand is like God's when it wipes the tear off the cheek; your heart is Christ-like when it makes the grave ring with prophecies of resurrection; your effort is angelic when you whisper comfort in the moonlight, under the olives, to some prostrate, bleeding form at your feet. No matter what relationship the bereaved one in your home sustains to you, the thought of the text holds good — be a comfort; be neither indifferent nor intrusive; do not drawl a saintly lecture, nor grieve with a reckless folly; be all you can of that which is missed! III. THIS PARTICULAR HOME HAD ITS TRIALS. It would be passing strange if it had not. It would straightway become one of the world's wonders. If every heart knoweth its own bitterness, certainly every house has its own anxieties and adversities. Try to meet them with the grace of Him who was the friend and trust of Isaac. (J. R. Kerr.) Parallel Verses KJV: And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent, and took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her: and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death. |