We should in typical things be much more expecting to hear of Hagar's death (the covenant of law) than of Sarah's (the covenant of grace); but the scriptures record the death of Sarah in much detail, and make no reference to that of Hagar. The fact is that, typically, Hagar never does die: the divine injunction is (not to kill but) to cast out the bondwoman. And we shall do well if we exactly obey the command—to avoid either sheltering or attacking the legal system: to shelter it is legality; to attack it is antinomianism. Unfortunately the swarthy Egyptian woman has some mysterious charm by which she wins her way into many hearts and finds a more cordial reception than is given to her who represents the covenant of grace.
But why this emphasized and detailed record of Sarah's death? Well, there is a sense in which this latter covenant dies. The antitype is found in the beginning of Acts: there God advances a covenant of grace to the seed of Abraham; “Repent ye therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, that the times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord,” is the proclamation which Peter makes to the Jews. But they reject this covenant, and it expires in the stoning of Stephen. Sarah, however, will rise from the dead and this covenant shall also, in the future day, be resuscitated. The enlarged and general sense in which the Sarah covenant is applied in Galatians has been already referred to.
The dying prayers of Stephen had hardly ceased when the Holy Ghost began an altogether new work amongst the Gentiles, in the call of the church—the bride: and so, immediately after Sarah's death (and distinctly connected with it by the scriptures) we find Eliezer charged with a mission by Abraham to the Gentile lands to find a bride for his son. There is a very solemn determination expressed that she shall not be taken from the land of Canaan: if a Jew be converted in this dispensation, he is incorporated in the bride, and he ceases to be a Jew; that would not be so in any other dispensation.
Eliezer is a well known type of the Holy Ghost “sent down from heaven” on this gracious embassy. He knows the mind of the father; he is in continual intercourse with God; he proceeds with deliberation, directness and dignity; he calls, wins, and adorns the bride; he conveys, and guards her through the wilderness until she is safely home, when he delivers her to the bridegroom, who goes forth to meet her.
Eliezer, in doing this, uses instruments of a humble and imperfect, but, in his hands, effective nature—the camels: they only partially meet the requirements of God; they chew the cud, but do not fully divide the hoof. The Holy Ghost is conveyed, by humble imperfect servants who have not a completely separated walk, but who nevertheless chew the true spiritual cud, and have inward resources of refreshment, which enable them to traverse the parching desert. But observe how defenseless they are! the camel has no means of protection in itself. How trackless the desert is! unless the Holy Ghost guard and guide the servants or the church, they are helpless. Would it be straining the figure for one to say that the time when their mission is being perfected is just the time when they are made to “kneel at the well?”
The sheep represents the believer as an object of protection, equally defenseless but dispensationally perfect— “clean every whit;” but there is no thought of the sheep working: the camel however is an instrument of service and therefore imperfect. The old negro said that “the Lord could strike a straight blow with a crooked stick;” and it is to the greater glory of the Lord that He can do such wondrous work with such infirm instrumentality. It is of no particular credit to anyone to do good work with good tools; but to do good work with bad tools, what patience and wisdom are required! God is carrying on His work in the call of the bride, not by reason of the consistencies, but in spite of the inconsistencies, of His servants.
The Jew Abraham went and came back a Christian. “Ah!” said his friend, “I knew that when you saw the holy lives.” “Well, not exactly that,” replied Abraham, “but I thought a religion must necessarily be divine that could survive so long, in spite of so much inconsistency in its advocates.” Even the best of the agents used by the Holy Ghost in the call and escort of the bride have been thus infirm: Peter denied his Master; James and John “knew not what spirit they were of “; Paul made serious mistakes; Origen instituted saint-worship, Augustine was tainted with Manicheanism, and Thomas a Kempis with monasticism; John Huss was somewhat revolutionary, Erasmus somewhat cowardly, Luther somewhat overbearing, and Calvin somewhat extreme; Wesley and Whitfield quarreled And to look at our own times!—well, let us commence by judging ourselves.