The Same Words from a Sot's Mouth or a Saint's

Isaiah 56:12 presents revelers summoning one another to carouse without fear: 'Come, let us drink; tomorrow will be like today.' These words fall from the lips of men who have abandoned duty for luxury, who swagger through their banqueting chamber believing the cellar will never empty. They forget tomorrow's headaches; they forget that fingers may write their doom upon those very walls.

Yet Maclaren discerns a profound paradox: these identical words may fit either a sot or a saint, depending entirely upon what things occupy our minds when we speak them. The form is identical; the spirit is inverted.

To direct such confidence toward outward things—pleasure, comfort, the perpetuation of circumstances—is madness and illusion. We weaken ourselves by using hope principally to paint the future as a scene of delights. We spoil today by scheming how to turn it toward joy, and we damage tomorrow before it arrives by fancying how it will minister to our satisfaction rather than to our duty.

But direct the same expectation toward Elohim, toward His faithfulness and covenant promises, and it becomes the soberest truth. The true temper is forecasting our work, not our pleasures. When we say, 'I am confident for tomorrow,' let it mean: I trust God's character; I expect His sustaining grace; I anticipate the opportunity to serve Him again.