The Falling Rain and the Budding Earth

Next Part The Falling Rain and the Budding Earth 2

"For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, and returns not there, but waters the earth, and makes it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater--so shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth--it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it." Isaiah 55:10-11.

I wish three things this evening. First, that this chapel was larger so as to accommodate the people who have come to hear. Secondly, that the Lord would fill my soul with life, light, liberty, and love, and enable me to preach the gospel with the Holy Spirit sent down from heaven. And thirdly, that he would accompany the word with a divine power to your heart, and seal it with his own living witness on your conscience. My first wish is clearly impossible to be granted, and, therefore, you must put up with a little crowding; but if we have the two last fulfilled, we shall not have met altogether in vain; and if the Lord does not grant them, I shall speak, and you will hear, to little real purpose. May we then be enabled to lift up our hearts to the Lord, that he would be with us, to bless us indeed, so that good may be done in the name of the Lord Jesus.

God has spoken great things in the scripture concerning his word. We read, that he has "magnified it above all his name;" that is, he has exalted his truth and faithfulness in revealing and keeping his word above all his other manifested perfections. Upon this word all things depend in nature and in grace. By it came creation itself. "Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God; so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear" (Heb. 11:3). By the same word comes preservation, as Peter tells us, "But the heavens and the earth, which are now, by the same word are kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men" (2 Peter 3:7). By the same word is the supernatural creation also effected in the regeneration of the soul, and the creating of it anew in Christ Jesus. "Of his own will he begat us with the word of truth" (James 1: 18). By the same "word," wounding comes; for "the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart" (Heb. 4:12). By the "word," too, comes healing. "He sent his word and healed them, and delivered them from their destructions."

In our text, we find the Lord still speaking very highly of his word, and illustrating it by a very sweet and blessed figure. This figure, I need hardly remind you, is that of the rain and snow from heaven, with their fertilizing effects on the earth. In endeavoring, then, as the Lord may give me strength and ability to open up the mind and meaning of the Spirit in the words before us, I shall not adopt any formal division of my subject, but shall make as it were a running commentary upon the text, explaining the natural figure, and showing its accomplishment in the word of his grace.

The figure that the Lord here makes use of is very simple, obvious to the lowest capacity, exceedingly suitable, and, when spiritually realized, above measure sweet and blessed. He compares his word, whether as revealed in the scriptures, or as spoken by the mouth of his servants, to the rain and snow that fall from heaven; and the effects which the rain and the snow produce on the earth, he compares to the effects and fruits that are produced by his word applied to the soul.

I. The first leading idea of the natural figure is the descent of the RAIN – "it comes down from heaven."

In this we may well admire the wisdom of that wonderful provision whereby rain is stored up in what the Lord himself in Job calls "the bottles of heaven." What tons of water are suspended in the clouds that float over our heads! What would the earth be, but a dry, parched rock, unless fertility were stored up for it in these floating reservoirs? "Your paths" (that is, the clouds, the tracks, as it were, of his chariot wheels in the sky) "drop fatness; they drop upon the pastures of the wilderness, and the little hills rejoice on every side."

The sovereignty of its descent is another marked feature of the natural rain. God challenges Job to stop "the bottles of heaven" when opened, and he might have challenged him to open them when stopped. Whatever juggling tricks "the rain-makers" at the Cape may practice, no magician can lift up his wand to the sky, and command the clouds to break down in showers upon the earth. It falls as God would have it to fall. The sovereignty of God is displayed as much in the weather as in any other way. "And also I have withheld the rain from you, when there were yet three months to the harvest--and I caused it to rain upon one city, and caused it not to rain upon another city--one piece was rained upon, and the piece whereupon it rained not withered" (Amos 4:7). So with the word of God. Just as in the exercise of divine sovereignty he causes rain to fall, or not to fall; so, in the exercise of the same sovereignty, he blesses the word to one and not to another.

Again; the suitability of the rain to the earth is as much a marked feature in the provision of God as the wisdom and the sovereignty of this wonderful contrivance. And we may observe the admirable adaptation of means to end and of end to means. How suitable is rain to the soil, and how suitable the soil to rain! Without rain earth would be a waste. Without a soil to absorb it, rain would bring but a deluge. Without rain earth would be worthless; without earth rain would be useless. So with the word of God and the soul of man. If there were no soul of man to be saved, the word of God would be of no use; if there were no word of God, the soul of man would be of no worth. What the rain is to the soil, what the soil is to the rain, the word of God is to the soul, and the soul to the word of God. This mutual fitness runs through the whole work of grace. Thus there is a suitability between the distressed mind and the promise; between the guilty conscience and the blood of Jesus; between the naked soul and Christ's righteousness; between spiritual hunger and the bread of life.

Again; there is no procuring cause in the earth, no merit in it to obtain rain from heaven. The earth does not first fertilize itself, and thus attract the clouds to discharge upon it their treasures. No, the longer that rain is suspended, the drier the earth gets, and the farther from fertility. So there is nothing in man to procure or deserve the grace of God; no, the longer that we are without it, like the parched earth without rain, the less do we deserve it; for increasing age brings increasing hardness, as increasing drought brings increasing sterility.

The rain, too, comes freely, copiously, ungrudgingly, neither asking the earth when it should fall, nor when it should stop. It comes down as a free gift from God. It falls when needed, and it stops when needed, preserving an exact balance between drought and deluge. In all these particulars there is an analogy between the rain from heaven and the word of God's grace.

II. But the Lord in the text speaks of "SNOW," as well as of rain. Snow is but frozen rain; yet there are certain points of difference which make it a striking emblem of the word of God.

It falls in winter from a dark and gloomy sky. So there is a wintry experience of soul when the heavens are spread with dark and threatening clouds.

Snow chills in its fall every living object. So the cutting reproofs and rebukes of the word of God chill with fear and alarm the conscience on which they drop. Did not the word of the Lord by the infant Samuel chill Eli with dread, and that by Nathan chill David, and that by Isaiah the soul of Hezekiah?

And how penetrating snow is. So the rebukes of God penetrate into the very vitals. When "he casts forth his ice like morsels--who can stand before his cold?" (Ps. 147:17). But besides these wintry and piercing properties, snow possesses two beneficial effects.

It shields the earth as with a mantle from the rigorous frosts and piercing winds, and thus preserves vegetation alive. Thus the chilling rebukes of God's word are a real protection to the soul; they preserve the tender life from those dreadful blasts of eternal displeasure which will one day sweep over the face of the earth. The rebukes of God brought David to repentance, Hezekiah to submission, Peter to weeping bitterly, and the incestuous Corinthian to godly sorrow. The rebuke of the Savior's look covered Peter with the mantle of repentance. For lack of this robe, the blast of God's displeasure froze the naked soul of Judas into despair.

But snow is said to fertilize the soil on which it falls and lies. When melted by the genial rays of the sun, it is said to mark its former presence by increased fruitfulness. So spiritually. Hezekiah was chilled by the snow storm that attended the prophet's words, "Set your house in order, for you shall die and not live;" but when the snow which had lain heavily on his soul was melted by the rays of returning mercy, a crop of fruit sprang up from the mellowed soil. He would thenceforward walk softly all his years in the bitterness of his soul. The snow had softened and fertilized the soil, and a crop of humility and praise sprang up. In his song of praise he acknowledged the benefit of the snow storm. "By these things men live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit" (Isa. 38:16) was his thankful acknowledgment of the benefit and blessing of the wintry sky.

Have you never had reason to bless God for every conviction that cut up your creature righteousness? For every reproof, every painful sensation of guilt, every pang of distress that chilled you at the time with horror? People are crying out for comfort, as if the word of God contained nothing but promises, and as if they were always in a situation to need cordials and restoratives. That were a poor medicine chest which had only pleasant tonics and tinctures. He were a poor gardener that could use no tools but the waterpot. "Fire and hail, snow and vapors, stormy wind" – all, all are alike "fulfilling his word" (Ps. 148:8), and all, all conspire to sing his praise.

III. But, we read, "it returns not there," that is, not in the same form. It does return by evaporation; but not in the shape of rain and snow. After a copious shower of rain, or heavy fall of snow, the earth in a little time is dry. Where is it all gone? A part has sunk into the soil, but not all; a part is again drawn up, to discharge once more its bounteous blessings upon the earth. But it does not return in the same precise form in which it came down, in the gross material shape of snow and rain. It is exhaled in a subtler, finer form. So when the Lord is pleased to chill, yet fertilize the soul, with the snow of his rebukes, or water and refresh it with the rain of his promises, his word of conviction or his word of consolation returns not to him in the same form. But does it not in another? Is there not the return of praise, gratitude, love, thanksgiving; a yielding of fruit in heart, lip, and life?

And as the sun draws up these unseen vapors, and calls into being this harvest of fruit, so does the Sun of righteousness draw up the affections of the heart, and bring forth those fruits which are to the praise and glory of God.

But have you not wished sometimes that you could make God some return? I mean, some return in kind. In fact, this is what I may call the natural wish of the mind, which we see issuing in a variety of 'superstitious forms'. Why have men built in popish times our splendid cathedrals? Why have thousands gone on pilgrimage? Why do many men in our day contribute large sums to religious objects? Is not this the secret spring of much of what is called religious service? Its language is, 'We ought to do something for God, as God has done so much for us; if he has given us money, we will give him money back.' This is making the rain and the snow return to heaven as it were in the same kind--which God does not want, and will not accept, when thus yielded from superstition and self-righteousness. Many will bestow money on tombs, crosses, windows, monuments, churches, and restorations of what is called mediaeval architecture, who abhor the truth and persecute the saints. Thus the pharisees of old, who crucified Christ and stoned Stephen, built the tombs of the prophets.

But to come to ourselves--has it not sometimes tried your mind that you could not do more for God, as it is termed, in the way of active service? But what is the real revenue which God would have you to give him, and which he looks for, if he has blessed your soul? Gratitude, praise, thanksgiving, faith, hope, love, and patience – the fruits and graces of his Spirit. Love and affection, too, to his saints, kindness and liberality to the poor members of his body, to visit them in sickness, sympathize with them in trouble, pray for them and with them in sorrow, and walk with them in the interchange of every friendly office.

IV. The next leading feature of the rain and snow mentioned in the text, is, that they "water the earth." This is its main object; for this purpose was it specially provided, and to this end it is continually sent. Water is the grand solvent; and as the pores of all vegetable productions are too minute to take in solid matter, it must be dissolved before it can become food for plants. By the rain and melted snow, is the soil softened so as to become a seed-bed in which the grain may swell, germinate, and grow.

We all know what a hard, barren, useless thing earth would be without rain. Such is the soul of man without the word of God's grace – hard, dry, barren--an unprofitable desert waste. The Lord has promised that the souls of his people shall be "like a watered garden," and that "his word shall drop like the rain and distill like the dew." It is the word of God's grace that softens the heart and dissolves the soul. How in nature the clods get harder and harder the longer that the drought continues! The farmer may break them with clubs, or roll them with heavy rollers but he cannot soften them. Let the showers gently fall; how they penetrate into the pores of these rough and rugged clods, until they crumble to the faintest touch!

So with the soul and the word of God's grace. Until that falls, there is no melting of soul, softness of heart, or brokenness of spirit.

V. But the rain and the snow not only water the earth, they also "make it bring forth and bud." In fact, without rain, especially in hot climates, there is no fruit brought forth at all. A man may have a consistent profession of religion, may have a sound, well ordered creed, may be a member of a Christian church, may attend to all ordinances and duties, may seek to frame his life and walk according to the precepts of God's word, may have his family prayer, and private prayer, may be a good husband, father, and friend, may be liberal and kind to God's cause and people, and yet with all this bear no fruit Godwards. This is produced only by the word of God's grace falling into the heart, watering and softening it. Without this there is not one gracious feeling, not one spiritual desire, not one tender thought, not one heavenly affection.

But the snow is useful here, as well as the rain. By it the grubs and caterpillars are killed, and the soil made porous and open. By the chilling blasts of God's displeasure, the reproofs of his mouth, the threatenings of his law, and the terrors of a guilty conscience, the grubs and caterpillars of pride and self-righteousness are starved, and a preparation made for the receiving of mercy and peace.

And thus, when the Sun of righteousness begins to shine upon the soul, when the winter is over and gone, when the warm days of spring, and the showers of mercy fall upon the heart, then it brings forth fruit and buds. It brings forth faith whereby the truth is received in the love of it; brings forth hope which clasps around the Lord Jesus Christ, his blood, obedience, and salvation, as the ivy clasps around the oak; brings forth love which cleaves to the Lord with full purpose of heart; brings forth patience to endure afflictions, andcontentment under the various dealings of God in providence or in grace. And indeed, real gospel fruit is produced in no other way.

A man may be scolded, threatened, tied up, and flogged; but you can never by these means bring forth gospel fruit. You may produce a monkish obedience; you may elicit a kind of starved religion, which withers as soon as born; you may drag out the forced service of a bond slave. But to have the fruits of the Spirit brought forth in the soul; faith, hope, love; humility, gratitude, resignation, godly sorrow, prayerfulness, and every other God-glorifying grace, you must have the rain and snow to come down from heaven.

How often, perhaps, have we tried by self-culture to bring forth such fruits! We could not do it; with all our best attempts the result was, as the church complained of old, "We have been with child, we have been in pain, we have, as it were, brought forth wind; we have not wrought any deliverance in the earth; neither have the inhabitants of the world fallen" (Isa. xxvi. 18). No living progeny was brought forth.

We have tried, perhaps, as many have, to make ourselves holy; we have watched our eyes, our ears, our tongues; have read so many chapters every day out of God's word; continued so long upon our knees; read one book on Monday, another on Tuesday, a third on Wednesday; and so tried to work a kind of holiness into our own souls. I used, many years ago, to try to pray for the better part of an hour; and I am ashamed to say, I have been glad to hear the clock strike. What was this but a monkish, self-imposed rule, a rule of St. Benedict, or St. Dominic, to please God by the length of my prayers? And yet I ought to have known better; for when the Lord was pleased to touch my conscience with his finger, he gave me a remarkable spirit of grace and supplication; I needed no rule of St. Dominic then. But it was all to bring forth out of the heart something of which I could say, 'Now I have religion; now I have something that God is pleased with; now I have made some advance in holiness; now I have got a step nearer to God.'

But what is all this pitiful self-holiness, as I think Bunyan calls it? Why, before we can look at it, it is gone like a dream of the night. It is "as the hasty fruit before the summer; which, when he that looks upon it sees, while it is yet in his hand he eats it up" (Isa. xxviii. 4). As to any real satisfaction, it is "as when a hungry man dreams, and behold he eats; but he awakens, and his soul is empty--or, as when a thirsty man dreams, and behold he drinks; but he awakens, and behold he is faint, and his soul has appetite."

But our text speaks of the earth "budding" as well as bringing forth fruit. In grace, as in nature, there are stages of progress; seed, blade, stem, and ear mark degrees of growth. In many the graces of the Spirit are but in bud. In some, faith, for instance, like the crocus out of the snow, is scarcely visible; we can but just discern it peeping out of the chilly mantle of convictions. The Lord himself says, "First, the blade," and this may be hidden under the wintry snow. Christians are not made in a day. They are not like Jonah's gourd, which "came up in a night, and perished in a night." In some of the Lord's family grace is but a tender bud just swelling into life. This may be the case with some here this evening. They cannot say positively, "I know in whom I have believed." "My Beloved is mine, and I am his." There is a check in their conscience when they would use the language of assurance. Nor can they firmly say, 'I feel confident that my hope will never fail.'

But if they cannot use these words, yet they may have the buddings of heavenly life. The bud, you know, is generally very tender; it can scarcely bear the cold wind--when about to expand its bosom, there comes perhaps a fall of snow, or a frosty sky, and shuts it up at once. Such are the first buddings of divine life in the soul. There is in them a peculiar tenderness; they shut up at the first chilling blast, and only open as the warm rays of the sun beam in upon them. Those who have but faint and feeble marks of grace well know, that it is only at times and seasons that faith, hope, and love peep forth, show their heads, and lift themselves above the dark soil. Sometimes in secret prayer, sometimes in hearing the preached word, sometimes in conversation with a Christian friend, there is a coming forth of a sweet confidence in the Lord.

Next Part The Falling Rain and the Budding Earth 2

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