The Trees of the Field, 2
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II. And now we come to the "exalting the LOW tree." Here we have a striking contrast. We have been looking at the "high tree," waving above every other tree in the forest, like the lofty poplar, towering so as to be visible above every other tree of the wood; and now we have "the low tree" – the vine that cannot sustain itself – the ivy that must creep and crawl upon the ground, with no power or ability to stand without a support. Now, "the low tree" represents a child of God, who is low in his own soul; all whose righteousness have been manifested unto him as "filthy rags;" whose heart is broken, whose spirit is contrite, whose conscience is tender, who has been laid low by a work of grace upon his heart, so as to have nothing and be nothing, but is a poor, ruined, wretched, guilty, sinful, helpless, and hopeless creature, that "cannot lift up so much as his eye unto heaven."
"The low tree" is one who has always the lowest, lowest thoughts concerning himself; who can find in his heart nothing spiritually good; who is continually afraid of presumption; who starts back from every appearance of being more than he really is, or speaking more than he really feels; and is kept down day by day, thinking nothing of himself, and "esteeming others better than himself;" full of self-abhorrence and self-loathing on account of a feeling sense of his vileness before the eyes of a heart-searching Jehovah. "The low tree" is one who can speak little, because he has little to speak of but his wretchedness and misery, his helplessness, his weakness, his vileness, and his baseness. "The low tree" is one who crouches and lies at the feet of God, until the Lord is pleased graciously to smile. "The low tree" is one who keeps back, and dares not come forward, lest by coming forward he should rush into presumption.
There is no place low enough for the "low tree;" there is no posture humble enough for him to take; there are no words too strong to express the internal feelings of his broken heart; and there is no language which can adequately express all that he feels himself to be before the eyes of a heart-searching Jehovah. He is nothing – he has nothing – he can find nothing in his heart spiritually good, but he stands before God and he stands before the people of God a mass of disease, a leper, a bankrupt, a beggar, poor and needy – "from the crown of the head to the soul of the foot, full of wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores."
Now this "low tree" the Lord has promised to "exalt." But he will never "exalt the low tree" in SELF. The wise man shall not "glory in his wisdom," the strong man shall not "glory in his strength;" but "he that glories" shall "glory in this, that he knows the Lord." "In the Lord shall all the seed of Israel be justified, and shall glory." "He that glories, let him glory in the Lord." When "the low tree," therefore, is "exalted," it is by some sweet manifestation of the blood and love of Jesus to his soul; it is by lifting him up out of the mire and out of the ash-heap, and "setting him among princes," and making him "inherit the throne of glory;" it is by Jesus sweetly coming into his heart and conscience, sprinkling it with his atoning blood, bedewing it with the drops of his favor, discovering his glorious righteousness, and binding up every bleeding wound.
Then the "low tree" is "exalted," when he is sweetly and blessedly lifted up by manifestations of Divine favor; when the showers of the "early and the latter rain" drop into his parched heart; and he is able to see his name cut upon Jesus' heart, and worn upon Jesus' shoulder, and has a sweet and blessed testimony in his conscience, that he is savingly interested in that love which knows no bounds, which has neither length nor breadth, nor height nor depth, but passes knowledge. Then he is "exalted." But he is never exalted into presumptuous confidence; he is never exalted into fleshly liberty; he is never exalted into self-righteousness. The more he is exalted, the more is he humbled; the higher he rises, the lower he falls; and the clearer views he has of his saving interest in Jesus, the more is his soul melted within him, the more is his heart broken, the more is his conscience made tender; and be cannot find any place too low for him to sink into, the more the Lord sheds abroad and manifests his favor and his love to his soul.
Oh! this is the only exaltation, friends, which is really worth coveting; not to soar high into the air, and to tower aloft into presumptuous notions, but to be exalted to lie at the feet of the Savior, to lean the head upon the bosom of Jesus, to be exalted not in self, but in Christ, so as to have a sweet manifestation of Christ's eternal and dying love to our souls. This is the exaltation which a broken heart covets; and it covets, and can have, and desires to have none other.
III. But we pass on to consider another tree of which the Lord speaks, and another work which the Lord here promises to do. "I the Lord have brought down the high tree, have exalted the low tree, have dried up the GREEN tree." Now, just in the same way as "the high tree" seems to shadow forth two characters that is, the presumptuous professor, and a child of God drawn aside by Satan's subtlety into presumption – so "the green tree" seems to set forth both a professor of religion, and also a child of God in the warmth of youthful zeal.
1. That the profession of religion, without the power of it, is set forth by "the green tree," is evident from what we read in the eighth chapter of the book of Job, where Bildad, speaking of a hypocrite, says – "He is green before the sun, and his branch shoots forth in his garden; his roots are wrapped about the heap, and sees the place of stones; if he destroys him from his place then it shall deny him, saying, I have not seen you. Behold, this is the joy of his way, and out of the earth shall others grow." There he compares the hypocrite to "the bulrush and the papyrus," that grow in the mud and mire, which are "greener than any other herb." So that we have a scriptural warrant for explaining this "green tree" of a hypocrite in religion, a mere professor of vital godliness, destitute of the feeling power of it.
He is "green;" that is, there is about him a kind of verdure. In prayer, he is always fluent – a gifted man. In conversation, his memory is wonderfully stored with texts of Scripture. In doctrines, he is so thoroughly versed that he is a master of all controversy. In zeal, he is so fervent, that he is continually, in every company, and on every occasion, setting forth religion; and he is often the plague of God's poor, tried, and exercised family, because he can always pray and always talk, and always seem to have religion uppermost in him, while they perhaps feel themselves as dry, and as stupid, and as hard, and as dead, and as barren, and as cold as the very seats which they sit upon. Here, then, is the "green tree," bloated with merely natural verdure, springing up out of the mud and mire of corrupt nature; not filled with a greenness of God's own giving, but a greenness that springs out of nature's operations.
Now, the Lord says, "I will dry up the green tree." Have we not often seen professors, who seemed to stand forth with great gifts in prayer, or perhaps minister with great gifts in preaching, who drew large congregations to hear them, and seemed to stand forth as champions for "the truth as it is in Jesus?" And did not a blight come over them? Did not "their sun go down at noon?" Have they not been drawn aside into manifest errors? And are there not, in this metropolis, men who formerly stood forth as champions for the truth in the letter, who have been drawn aside into the worst of errors, and the worst of delusions? Then the Lord had fulfilled his promise. He has "dried up the green tree."
And is it not a matter of experience with respect to those in churches who once seemed full of zeal, and full of life, earnestness, and power in religion, that a sudden blast has come over them, and they have lost all their gifts, they have become dried up, they have now nothing to say, and their barrenness and their nakedness stand exposed before the eyes of all? Such are God's righteous dealings, who will never sanction any religion that did not come from himself, and will never cause that to prosper which his own right hand has not planted. "Every tree which my Father has not planted shall be rooted up."
2. But "the green tree" also sets forth what many of God's people are in their early days. What zeal, what warmth, what fervor, we seem to have in our souls in the springtide of life, after the Lord has been pleased to indulge us with some testimony, and to give us some pledge of his eternal favor! Now, the greater part of this zeal was in the flesh; most of this ardor sprang from the mere workings of nature. This sort of holy fervor arose much from the workings of an excited, heated imagination; it did not come from God. Though there was; "the root of the matter in us," yet this zeal, this fervor, this earnestness, this running here and running there, this carrying everything by storm – all these things were not really of God, but they were nature dressed in and wearing the appearance of grace. Now, the Lord says of this "green tree," that he will "dry it up;" that is, he will bring this "green tree" into a state of felt destitution and barrenness. Have we not found it so? Where is our zeal gone? Has it not evaporated? Where is our youthful fervor? Has it not taken flight? Where are our ardent prayers and burning desires? Have they not sunk low, and burnt down well near to ashes within? Then "the green tree" has been "dried up;" and we are brought, by a work of God's hand upon our hearts we trust, to stand in the position which God has described the fourth tree to be in – a "dry tree."
IV. Oh! what a state it is in which to stand before God – a "dry tree!" To feel as though there was not a single particle of spiritual sap or heavenly moisture in us; to feel as though we had no religion worth the name; to feel as though we had no real work of the Spirit upon our soul, and no real grace in our heart given by God himself! Oh! what a state it is to be in! – a state of dryness before God, and dryness before the people of God; to find, in our approaches unto God, our hearts dry; to find, in reading the Scriptures of truth, our hearts dry; to find, in conversation with the family of God, our hearts dry – dry to the promises, dry to the consolations, dry to the reproofs, dry to the instructions, dry to every blessing that God has promised to his elect, and as unable to revive our own souls, as unable to communicate greenness and fertility to our own hearts, as the blasted tree in the forest is unable to clothe itself again with verdure, and to put forth flowers and fruit!
Here stands the "green tree," then, or rather, that which once was green, among the trees of the field; all its fruits fallen off, all its flowers withered; its leaves perhaps holding on; but, like the oak in winter, the dry and dead leaves, instead of the green and verdant foliage, with which it was once clothed. Oh! to fear that we are standing there, as "dry trees" for God to pluck up by the roots, and cast into everlasting flames. Oh! to have our religion dried up, and to feel in our hearts that there is nothing there like moisture, and sap, and dew, and unction, and verdure.
Now, to this "dry tree" the Lord has given a promise. He says, this dry tree shall be "made to flourish." Oh! what a wonder-working God it is! In what mysterious paths does he move! How he frustrates and disappoints all the expectations of nature. What! to "dry up a green tree," and to "make a dry tree to flourish!" Would not nature say, "Oh! the 'green tree,' make it greener still; oh! the 'dry tree,' cut it down and cast it into the fire!" But the Lord's "ways are not our ways," neither are the Lord's "thoughts our thoughts;" but "as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are his ways higher than our ways and his thoughts than our thoughts." Cut it down! No – "make it to flourish!" Then the Lord's work is made manifest, as much in "drying up the green tree," as in "making the dry tree to flourish."
And how does he "make the dry tree to flourish?" Why, by dropping in his own blessed dew into it; by shedding his own divine favor into the barren and parched heart; by dropping in some testimony from his own blessed and gracious lips, so as to cause the soul to "revive as the vine," and to flourish as the herb; by causing "showers of blessing" to fall upon the wilderness, and so make the rose of Sharon sweetly and blessedly to blossom and flourish therein.
There are times, then, when the Lord condescends to "make the dry tree to flourish;" that is, drops in some testimony, gives some smile, affords some visit, applies some promise, brings in some part of his holy word with power, and by doing this makes the dry tree flourish again in all its former youth, put forth the green leaves of profession, the fragrant flowers of promise, and the ripe fruits of a godly life, conduct, and conversation.
Now the Lord CONCLUDES, "I the Lord have spoken it." It has passed from my lips; it is not the word of man, it is the word of the living God. Aye, and more than that; "I have done it;" not only spoken it, that it shall take place – but effected it, that it does take place.
"And all the trees of the field shall know" it. It shall be made manifest in the eyes of God's visible Church. And how? By these wonderful transformations taking place before their eyes; by their seeing these characters visibly made manifest by the sovereign operations and dealings of God.
Then you that are members of the visible Church of Christ you whose eyes are opened to see character – wait, watch, observe; and you will see how strikingly God will bring these things to pass.
Where are you? If you are a tree of the field, if you are a professor of religion, you are one of these trees. Are you a "high tree" – a lofty, towering, soaring presumptuous professor? Read your lot. God has written your destiny; he has stamped it in his own word, by his own infallible hand; you shall be "brought down!" You cannot frustrate it; God has said it, and what God has said, must be accomplished. Then, if you have no grace in your heart, and are a towering, presumptuous, lofty, soaring professor, hear your doom from the mouth of God himself – you shall be "brought down" to the chambers of hell.
But have you grace in your heart, and yet have been drawn aside by the presumptuous confidence of others, and have swerved from the simplicity of the Gospel and have outgrown your real stature, and have "intruded into things that you have not seen, vainly puffed up by your fleshly mind?" Hear what the Lord will do for you; hear it from God's mouth – "He will bring you down, he will lay you low, by pressing you down with his powerful hand; he will bring down the pride of your heart, and lay you a ruined wretch at his footstool."
Are you a green tree? full of zeal, full of fervor, full of warmth, trying to convert everybody, as full of religion as ever you can hold? Hear what God has said – You shall be "dried up." If your zeal springs from nature, if your fervor comes only from the workings of your own heart, it will be dried up; it will be blasted, blighted, withered, extinguished, and you will give up sooner or later even the very profession of religion, and perhaps go back into the world whence you came.
If you are a living soul, and have much of this "greenness" of youth about you, and this verdure which is not of God's giving, hear what the Lord will do for you. He will "dry you up." Perhaps in our early days some of us have been in this spot; we have looked at God s tried, doubting, exercised, fearing family, and said, "What have these professors been about? They are not like me; they are so dead and they are so carnal, and they are so lifeless, and they are so barren, and they are so constantly talking about their wicked hearts. I know nothing about this, I find nothing of this, I can read, and I can talk, and I can pray, and I can hear, and I can love; I know nothing of this." Now, you must come to this spot, if you are a living soul. The Lord has said he will "dry up the green tree."
You must come to learn your spiritual barrenness, poverty, destitution, bankruptcy, insolvency nothingness; you must come to have every particle of spiritual sap and moisture dried up, and to stand before God without an atom of living power to infuse life and feeling into your own heart.
But now I come to two other characters in God's Church "the low tree," and "the dry tree." Has the Lord taught us, sensibly and feelingly, what we are by are by nature? Has he really humbled and broken our hearts to lie at his blessed footstool? Are we low in a low place; low in our opinions of ourselves, low in our feelings, low in our frames, low in our experience, low in desponding thoughts of what our future state may be? O "low tree," the Lord will exalt you; low tree, he has brought you down, that he may lift you up. O low tree, it is in order to be exalted in Christ, by sweet manifestations of his love to your soul, that you are brought low.
You envy the soaring cedar; you envy the towering oak; you need not envy them. The judgement of the Lord of Hosts is "upon all the cedars of Lebanon, and upon all the oaks of Bashan;" but the hand of the Lord is not upon "the low tree" – the creeping vine, whose feeble tendrils must cling round a support in order to prop it up. Low tree, the Lord will blessedly exalt you in his own time and in his own way.
But are you a "dry tree?" Oh! wretched feeling – oh! miserable state in soul experience – to be a "dry tree;" to feel no spiritual sap nor heavenly moisture, but to stand a withered monument as it were of what we once were – to stand like a lofty tree of the forest in its winter garb, without anything to which we can look with pleasure, and say, "This is the handiwork of the Lord himself." If you are a "dry tree" spiritually so, you will be at times mourning your dryness; your barrenness will be your burden; your poverty will be your grief; your emptiness will be your sorrow – it will be a plague and a trouble to you, that you are so dry. You want to be otherwise, to be green and luxuriant and verdant, to bring forth flowers and fruit to the glory and praise of God.
Remember, dry tree, the Lord will cause you to flourish; yes, he will make your bones rejoice, and make you to flourish as the herb, by sweetly pouring into your soul his own sap and moisture. You are connected with the head of all influence; you are grafted into the living vine; you have a living union with the source of all spiritual sap and moisture, and out of his fullness they shall flow into your barren heart and dried-up soul.
O dry tree, it is better to be as you and I often feel ourselves – without a spiritual thought, without a spiritual desire, and yet sometimes sighing and groaning unto God from the poverty and destitution of our heart – it is better feelingly to stand a dry tree among the trees of the field, than to boast ourselves of false verdure, or adorn ourselves with fictitious fruit, and stand forth dressed in the livery of artificial leaves. It is better to feel ourselves wretched, and miserable, and blind, and poor, and naked, than to be like the Laodicean Church, which was all these things and knew it not, but thought she was "rich, and increased with goods, and had need of nothing."
Then try your state by this. If you are "low" by God's work upon your soul, it will be a mournful place to be in. If your are "dry" by God's having dried up your earthly moisture, it will be a grief and a plague to you. It is not catching up just the 'language of humility'; it is not talking about a broken heart and a contrite spirit; it is having the deep feeling of it within. It is easy enough to catch from the mouth of others – "I am so dead, and I am so carnal, and I am so cold," – and learn that cuckoo-note, and keep repeating it all the year round.
But where it is really felt, it is a burden; where it is really felt, it is a grief; where it is really felt, it is a trouble; as the Spirit of God works the feeling, the soul is ardently longing to be brought out of dryness and barrenness and destitution, into the light, life, joy, peace, and liberty of the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ, and to have a sweet manifestation of his eternal love to our hearts.
That man's religion is much to be suspected, who says he is "dry" and yet never feels his dryness – who is in language "low" and is never humbled before a heart-searching God. Where there is a real poverty, there will be a sighing after real riches; where there is a real emptiness, there will be a sighing after a reception out of Christ's fullness; and where there is a real barrenness and drought, there will be a sighing after the showers of God's favor to make the wilderness blossom as the rose.
"I the Lord have spoken, and have done it." It is not to be frustrated; "I the Lord will do it in my time."
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