New Thoughts (3/22/07-3/28/07)
Once again Jesus speaks on a favorite theme: the nature of God’s kingdom. As God’s ways are above our own, and His thoughts beyond our capacity for thought, so His kingdom is beyond our present ability to understand. However, as God stooped down to make Himself understandable to us, finding ways to express Himself that are within our capabilities, so He seeks to make His kingdom understandable as He teaches in these parables. In a way, it’s rather like a tourist who has been to some grand location, perhaps the peak of some particularly high mountain. He comes back having seen what very few have seen, but he has no pictures to show. Indeed, the view is of such a nature that no picture could capture the full impact of it. Now returned amongst his friends, he seeks words to describe what he saw and what he experienced in that place, but words don’t really suffice.
In these parables of the kingdom, it strikes me that Jesus is in a place rather like that, except that He is the tourist at this point, and is describing His homeland to those He has come to visit. Try to imagine providing a reasonable description of your own homeland to a nation whose ways are completely different. It doesn’t matter whether you’re trying to describe a ‘first world’ western nation in a ‘third world’ setting, or the opposite. Words cannot really capture the reality of life in either place. Yet, we will try. My friends from Kenya try their best to explain what life is like in their homeland, but how does one put in a brief conversation what has taken a lifetime to absorb? How does one put things so as to cut through the preconceived notions of those who are listening? This is the sort of challenge that Jesus faces. He is trying to explain a culture that is completely alien to His audience, but about which they have all sorts of ideas that they think they know. Not only must He try to explain this foreign conception of the order of things to them, but He also has to cut away their notions about that place.
That is a great part of what this particular parable is about: dispensing with misconceptions. Israel had been trained to expect this explosive breakthrough of the kingdom. They expected a mighty, warrior Messiah who was going to come and destroy the opposition. But, Messiah comes into their midst a humble servant. He is but a farmer sowing the seed of the kingdom. It really doesn’t look like much, does it? Just an unknown man from the country, followed around by a band of equally unknown folk. There’s nobody there with power and influence. They don’t have connections. He’s just out there in the country, impressing folk of no consequence. Surely, His impact will pass with His life.
Indeed, looking at what remained even a month or two after His death, it looks even less impressive. Those few who have stuck with Him have been reduced to less than two hundred, and even they are being chased down by the powers that be. Amongst all the sects of Judaism in that day, they were the least: the mustard seed in the garden. I have to believe that the Apostles looked back on lessons such of these and took great comfort in them during those early years. Yes, it is a small beginning. The kingdom doesn’t look like much at the moment. But, their Master reminds them, you mustn’t measure the result by what you see in this moment. You must measure as God measures: with an eye to the end which this beginning will produce.
When you plant that mustard seed, your eyes can see how small and weak it is. You can imagine any number of reasons why it will go nowhere. After all, you know how much the birds like to eat the seed, and there it is, defenseless on the ground. If you were thinking in terms of the seed alone, you would never bother to sow it in your garden, because you would have no expectation of anything coming from it. But, when you sow that seed, your thoughts are on what will come of it in a few month’s time. Here, you have the benefit of experience. You’ve seen how this plant grows before, and this gives you expectation that the same will transpire this time. Come back in a few months and this tiny little seed will be towering over everything else.
Jesus now calls us to take the benefit of that experience and apply it to the kingdom of which we are the planting, the seedling. Here, we don’t have the benefit of experience, really. None of us can truly claim to have seen how the kingdom matures. We must function in faith that God’s declarations about it are true. This is one of those declarations. In time, you will find the Church of true faith has grown to such a great stature as will dwarf every other system of belief. Never mind religion, in this modern age. Many men today are convinced that they have no religion, so set that aside. Religion or not, it is a system of belief that they operate in. There is, in the end, one that shall tower over them all. It’s present size and appearance is no indication of what it shall become.
This also has its more personal application as to how the work of God progresses in each one of us to whom the Son grants this gift of heavenly citizenship. If we look at ourselves with only our own sense of our own present state, we may find cause to wonder if God’s really doing anything or not. Given only my present condition, I should surely despair of finding my way home to Him. In a way, I hear Jesus addressing that despair in this parable. While I’m sure He has a bigger picture in view as He encourages these first disciples, yet it is an encouragement I can use on days like this. I may feel like I’m getting nowhere. I may feel dry and a little detached. But, I hear my Jesus saying not to despair. The work of the kingdom in me may not look like much right now. It may not seem as if it’s growing, but it is. As with the Church so with the self: Jesus is trying to get us to look at things from His perspective, from God’s perspective. The Ancient of Days stands at the end of days, looking at the completion of His plans. He who stands outside of time sent His Son (His self) amongst us not only so that we could see what we should look like, but to show us what we will look like in the end. He who began the work is faithful to complete it. He has never failed and He never will.
Looking at myself, then, I must learn not to measure by what is, but by what God has envisioned for the end. Looking at the seeds I plant (assuming, of course, that I plant seed), I may not see that I am planting much. Well, while I dare not take this parable as an excuse not to plant, I can take comfort in recognizing the miniscule nature of the seed being planted. Let me lay it down this way: I may think I have not planted much of anything, but what God can make from that may truly turn out to be impressive in its expanse. The simple fact is: We just don’t know. It can cut both ways. We may think we’re sowing like nobody’s business. We’ve practically coated the ground with our seed. But, we can’t guarantee any growth from that seed. It’s back to the parable of the soils. If the ground is hard, that coating of seed isn’t going to do much more than to feed some birds. Now, we are getting the flip side. We may have just tossed out one tiny, insignificant little seed – so small even the birds don’t seem to notice it. But, what God can do with that one small seed may outweigh all that comes of the other, greater effort.
Before I look at the symbolism of this parable, I do want to make an aside regarding the risks of paraphrase. This morning, I was reading through this parable from the Message, which is a heavily paraphrased translation. It is, if you will, one man’s take on what the Bible says, and this is, of course, one of the risks in depending on a paraphrase. As a side item, a second source or a commentary, they can serve a good purpose. They can occasionally really open up the sense of a passage. However, there is also the risk that they can really obscure the depth of a passage. This is the pitfall that I find the Message having fallen into. Apparently, the author felt that our familiarity with a mustard seed such as we find at the grocers would keep us from appreciating the sense of the parable. Or, perhaps he just figured that none of his readers were likely to be gardeners anymore. Whatever the case, he opts to completely remove the man sowing his seed from the picture, and leaves us instead with a pine seed. He has moved us from the garden to the forest, from the cultivated to the wild. Even with the imagery of the birds, this shift is made. Where the birds of the air are more indicative of the sorts of songbirds we might find in our own yards, he has shifted the picture to eagles – birds of the wild places. Where Jesus lays out a picture of homely familiarity, the Message has painted a picture of unspoiled wilderness. I can only speculate as to why this shift of scene was made, but I do find it regrettable.
The kingdom is not about unspoiled wilderness. The kingdom is about that which we know and are familiar with being transformed and renewed. The unspoiled wilderness, were there such a thing in the kingdom, has no need for such transformation and renewal. It is, after all, unspoiled. What’s to fix? It is the spoiled wreckage of the everyday that needs reseeding with kingdom seed. It is the life in ruins that needs a savior. All creation, Paul reminds us, is groaning under the weight of its present fallen condition. It longs for that day of transformation as much if not more than we do. While we don’t credit these things with a higher consciousness such as our own, there is this sense of the present futility. There is some form of awareness that things are not as they should be. There is a natural, call it instinctive, desire for shalom.
The cultivated garden that Jesus presents is far closer to the shalom. Man’s first job in the kingdom was to tend the Garden. While he failed at that task, it has remained his job in a lesser and more toilsome form. The plants Jesus speaks of are garden plants, the results of careful effort on tilled lands. A pine tree just doesn’t capture that. Pine trees are not garden plants. It doesn’t surprise us that a pine nut grows into a pine tree, because it grows where trees normally grow and in the way that trees normally do.
The mustard seed that Jesus presents is different. It is seed for the garden. We do not, as a rule, plant trees in our garden. We might plant them on a tree farm or in an orchard, but not in the garden. They don’t belong there. That something large enough to qualify as a tree grows there is exceptional. It may not be exceptional as something unexpected, but it is exceptional as something out of the norm.
Also lost by the pine tree image is the idea of comparative size. The mustard seed is being compared to other seeds of like usage, and is found to be ‘smaller than all other seeds’. This adds to the wonder of the size of the plant that results. This whole sense is gone from the paraphrase. Frankly, we don’t generally think of the pine nut at all in terms of how the pine tree grows. What we are far more likely to envision is the whole cone which, if compared to an acorn or a maple seed, or the seed of just about any other tree, is downright huge.
In sum, I would have to say that one would do better to expand and explain the image that was provided rather than try and replace it with something one hopes is more familiar. These parables are at once too rich and too concise to be treated in such a manner.
One of the first aspects of this picture that is worth exploring is this matter of birds nesting in the branches of the tree that grows. To start, I will note that one of the articles made a point of saying that this is an incorrect translation. They indicated that while birds would certainly be found in the branches of the mustard tree, they had come to eat, not to nest. However, I don’t see any ambiguity in the word Jesus uses to describe this act of nesting. It is akin to pitching one’s tent, establishing an abode. This idea is central to grasping the image of the tree itself. It is an image taken from the pages of the Old Testament. It is, in the end, an image – an image that is used not to describe a scientific fact, but a higher concept. It may be quite true that the birds do not literally nest in the mustard tree. I cannot say one way or the other on that account. However, this is imagery not biology.
The point that is being made is one of security. This becomes clear by considering that passage from Ezekiel from which the image has been taken. There, Assyria is presented as a mighty tree with many branches (Eze 31:6-10). Birds nested in its branches, animals birthed their young in its shadow, and all other nations lived in its shade. This is followed by God’s reminder that it is He who determines the tree’s greatness and its end. It is as though He is saying, “You can make what you will out of yourself, but I will still make what I will out of you.” Don’t get all puffed up in pride over your accomplishments, because whatever you have accomplished has been by His hand and His permission. It’s not about you. That’s as true for the faithful as for the most adamant unbeliever. You can chalk it up to your own doing, but He can make your own doing but chalk dust in the wind. The current image takes a different tack. Your efforts may seem like nothing in your eyes, but He can do great things with such a humble and apparently insignificant starting point. After all, He created all that is from a starting point of nothing. This, no other can do. Even if you accept the Big Bang theory, there is still that nagging issue of where the bang came from, and how it created something out of nothing. God has already provided the answer. “I did it.”
Now, return to that tree which is used to represent Assyria. The image that is painted is one of security and provision. Think about it. When is a bird most vulnerable? It is surely when it must remain in the nest to keep the eggs warmed. Likewise, there is the great risk for the newly hatched who cannot fly away from danger. A simple look at the habits of birds will show that most of them seek a place of safety when building their nests. They know by instinct that they must take their surroundings into account to the best of their ability if they would have their hatchlings mature. So, they tend to the tree. It’s height provides defense against most of the creatures of the earth, and its leaves give some degree of camouflage to hide from birds of prey overhead. By tending to the outer branches of the tree, they find a place which only those as light as themselves can tread. Further, the tree provides insects and seeds upon which the birds can feed. All in all, it is a pretty optimal setting for them.
Likewise with those animals who are depicted as giving birth in the shade of the tree. Again, we are shown a creature in its most vulnerable moment, the place of greatest danger. It is a matter of instinct to find the most secure place available to go through this moment. Even the modern house cat will find a place to go in secret to get through this time. She may not be in any danger within the confines of the house, but still, that need to hide makes itself felt. She will seek out a secure place.
The tree of Assyria is being shown as just such a place. Their power, while so devastating in conquest was also security for the conquered. They may have been trounced by this world power, but so long as they remained a power, those who were conquered need fear no further battle on their soil. It is to this end that we get the added picture of all the other nations living in the shade of Assyria. This is not the younger brother syndrome that everybody likes to talk about. It’s not that it was hard growing up in the shadow of this bigger and more accomplished nation. It’s a depiction of security and provision.
After all, the nature of this tree was such that even the trees in Eden were jealous. Surely, the trees of Eden are no trees of conquest. They are for beauty, for protection and for provision. “Of all the trees you may eat.” And, this image is carried forward into the new heavens. Next to the river, the trees grow, and the fruit is for nourishment and the leaves for healing. Daniel had seen this same picture of the tree: It was a beautiful tree that provided enough food for every living thing to eat. Again, we find the animals at rest in its shade and the birds at rest in its branches (Dan 4:12).
This is, as it were, the natural purpose of the tree. What makes it fresh and eye-catching in this parable is that this ‘tree’ is found on cultivated lands. Anybody that’s had a maple tree or its like in the yard knows that such trees have no need for cultivated land. Indeed, go up into the mountains in New Hampshire, and you’ll soon see that many trees don’t really need soil at all. They’ll happily root their way down through any least crack in the rock to find what’s underneath, and eventually, they’ll split that rock by the simple effort of steady growth.
Oh! There’s a lesson all by itself! Here, then, the parable of the pine tree on the mountain. That seed from which it grew had, by all appearance, fallen on ground impossibly hard. There was no soil to be seen; only the impenetrable barrier of granite. But, the granite was not without its fissures, and the seed was not to be deterred. One fissure, be it ever so small, was all it needed. It would find what it needed to grow in that fissure, and as it grew, so would the fissure. In time, the impossible would be shown possible. There, from the top of that mighty boulder of granite, would be seen the trunk of a growing tree. And, over time (and this is the thing that captures my thinking just now) that tree will split the rock by the simple effort of steady growth.
So it is with the kingdom in us. When first the whisper of salvation comes to us, it comes to a stony heart. Many would look at us and see no hope of redemption in our case. Yet, the seed which is the Word of God is not deterred. With God, after all, all things are possible, and besides, His Word has never failed of His purpose. That seed pushes down one slender tendril of a root into the hardest heart. Unlike the tree of my story, this tendril actually provides nourishment to the stone of the heart rather than drawing nourishment from it. You see, the stoniness of the heart is but a crust. It is an encasing condition, the worst possible case of hardening of the arteries, that has locked the real heart deep inside. It was begun, perhaps as a wall for defense, but it became an imprisoning dungeon with walls so thick it seemed that nothing could break through. But, that dungeon never took the Seed into account. That one tendril found a way, working into the cracks of the wall and widening them as it grew. Now, notice: the heart behind the wall was incapable of doing anything to help all this. The tendril worked on its own until it could reach in and touch the heart. Because that Seed is the Word, the Bread of Life, the Breath of God, it brings life to the imprisoned heart. Like the river Ezekiel saw coming from the Throne of God, this small root grows and as it grows, it widens those cracks and fissures through which it has probed to find the heart of the man. Even the stoniest defenses of the heart cannot stop that Seed from growing once it has found purchase. The worst efforts of the prison guards will do nothing to make it stop growing. (Again, I think of those maple seedlings that manage to take root. You can cut them down as much as you like, but they’ll just come back. And all the while, those roots are going deeper, getting thicker…) Over time, that seed will break down the walls that have imprisoned this heart. The guards will have nothing left to guard. They will have to go seek employment elsewhere. This prisoner has been set free by the simple, steady growth of this Seed of Faith.
Returning to the mustard seed that was sown, I note that it is sown in the garden. It is sown on cultivated lands. Unlike the seed of a tree, this seed needs earth that has been prepared. It needs earth that has been broken up. Jeremiah warned the men of Judah to do just this: break up their fallow ground (Jer 4:3). Hosea issues the same call (Hos 10:12), noting how the people have reaped injustice because they have plowed wickedness. That fallow ground is like the hardened heart that results from sin. What has been reaped as the harvest of these fields is misery, and for this we have nobody to thank but ourselves. What we have sown is what we have grown. How could it be otherwise? I notice that Jeremiah looks at this uncultivated land of the heart of his people, and equates it with the growth of thorns. The thorns of worldly anxiety are not a terribly satisfying harvest. But, as we allow our heart to grow callous and unconcerned, this is the only harvest that can grow. Those plants that are supportive of life cannot. The land has not been cultivated. The good seed will only lay on the surface until the birds come and eat it up. We are back at that first parable again (Mt 13:1).
The mustard seed is not sown on this rocky soil, though. It is sown on cultivated lands; lands that have been plowed, the hard clots of dirt broken up and turned to reveal the rich loam beneath. Yesterday at church we were singing a song entitled, “Sweetly Broken”. I really didn’t pay much attention to where it was brought in from, but our leader spoke of his own experience of this cultivating breaking work of the Lord in his own life by way of introducing the song. It’s God’s plowing. This is my own interpretation of the matter, I should point out, not his introductory comments. It’s God’s plowing, but that plowing will hurt even when it is His hand that is on the plow. Plowshares are sharp. They cut deep, and they don’t just slice in. They reach in and pull up what is at the bottom of that cut, pulling it to the surface. They expose things that were buried to the light of day. Just look at the difference between fresh-turned soil and that which has been on the surface for a day or so. On the other hand, even those of us who are pretty well unversed in the ways of gardening understand that the soil that is freshly turned will accept seed far better than that which has been baked by the sun and trodden underfoot for years.
Cultivated soil has been attended to. It has been prepared for its task. That plowing of preparation hurts, to be sure, but it reveals the rich depths of what faith has been doing in us. Going back to the image of the tree which grew through the rock, this is not far removed in concept. The root of the tree, growing into that rock, breaks it up, makes soil of it as it goes. It is like an organic plowshare cleaving its way in, pulling nutrients out. Likewise the plow of faith. It cuts through our sin-encrusted nature, to reach what lies trapped within that crust. What it draws to the light will certainly have its share of sin as well, but as that sin is exposed it withers. It cannot create a new crust, because the plow severs it from its kindred. The rains of righteousness will keep the fresh-turned soil too wet to become tough and resistant once more. The seed of the Word has been sown, and this seed will now take root and grow, for the Word does not go forth without accomplishing the whole purpose of the Father.
Now, we are prepared to see the image that Jesus has painted. God has prepared the lives of those into whom the kingdom is sown. He has broken those lives not unto destruction, but unto production. Notice, though, that He prepares the land. The land does not prepare itself. The garden does not do anything to make itself a garden. The gardener does the work. He prepares the soil, and He sows the seed. The garden receives the benefit and produces the return. Even the garden might look on that particular seed as being small and insignificant. When faith first arrives, we may not even take notice of it. But it does arrive, and it does take root, and before we know it, it is growing in us.
In our day and age, it seems to us that faith grows faster than we’ve seen it grow in ourselves. I’m guessing that’s not really the case, it just seems that way. But, look at this mustard tree: It’s size is a shock both for the seed it derives from and the place where it is planted. Likewise, though, the speed of its growth is amazing: to find even so small a tree having grown in one brief season is stunning.
Faith is the currency of the kingdom, the outgrowth of the seed of righteousness. When that seed is cast upon the soil of a heart cultivated and prepared by the Holy Spirit, not only is it assured of taking root, but the rapid growth that we are shown in the mustard seed can be expected. This is how the kingdom operates, Jesus says. The seed of the Word may be cast far and wide. There may be many who will hear it with hearts either unprepared or too troubled to really listen, and for such as these, the seed that is sown upon them will come to nothing. But, where the Holy Spirit has been at work cultivating the heart, that seed will break through whatever crust of sin remains. It will take root and it will thrive.
Understand, then, that the kingdom of God grows in cultivated land. It is the work of God the Holy Spirit to do that preparatory work in us. Unless He has come to break up our fallow ground, it will not break up. Unless He has come to first plow faith in our innermost being, the seed of the Word will fall on our ears to no avail. Salvation remains a united work of the Holy Trinity. The Father selects the field, the Spirit prepares it, and the Son sows into it to great result.
On a more corporate level, we might look at the overall growth of the kingdom within the lands of the world. That which Jesus planted here during His brief term of ministry was truly a small beginning. After three years of intensive field training, He had less than a dozen men to carry on the work when He left. These, at the first, were so taken aback by His departure that they pretty much abandoned the labor, and went back to the things they were used to doing before they started with Him. Even when He had come back to visit and reestablished the mission amongst His chosen missionaries, their number was absurdly small. Whether you count only the eleven Apostles plus one, or whether you count that initial Pentecost congregation of one hundred twenty, it was nothing compared to the population even of Jerusalem; less than nothing compared to the population of the Roman Empire that it would conquer.
The seed of the kingdom was small – small to the point of insignificance. But, it would grow, and it would grow with such rapidity that in what seems an impossibly short period of time, it would outstrip every system of belief around it. It would tower over the pagan systems and idolatry of the nations in which it grew. Considering the history of the early church, it is easy to see this parable playing out. From being an outcast sect of a backwater religion on the fringes of the Empire, Christianity had become the state religion of that same Empire. And, it had only taken a few brief centuries to get there. A few brief centuries to outstrip, overrun and all but eradicate systems of belief that had been around for long centuries beforehand. Think of it! A nation whose very identity was wrapped up in the myth of two twins born to a wolf would become the center of a faith that utterly rejected and repudiated any such understanding. The same empire that had seen the rise of Christianity as a threat that must be eradicated had come to embrace and defend Christianity as the official faith of the empire. Granted, this did not come without its own dangers, but the growth, in its rapidity and its bounteous fruitfulness is simply amazing. Within so small a time, that cult of the Jews had spread throughout Europe, into the tribal wilds of Germany, into the unknown regions of the Celts, the Angles and the Picts. Against all odds, this mustard tree grew to tower over a continent, and from there, it only grew the more.
Thus did God provide for His kingdom. Thus, by the tree of His kingdom, did He provide for all the peoples of the earth. Nations may have taken shelter in the branches of Assyria, and in the shadows of all those empires that crossed the stage after her. But, in the shelter of the Almighty, in the shade of His branches, all the nations find peace, for His kingdom is peace. Yes, in our day, we still see turmoil. Rebels still roam the land, and the first rebel still urges them on in their foolishness. But, the kingdom is growing. Though it may seem slow to our sense of time, it is growing at a rate that is unparalleled. If the rebels seem to be growing in boldness in our day, it is a boldness born of desperation, for the final outcome is already clear.
Forsake not the small beginnings, God says (Zech 4:10). That mustard seed doesn’t look like much but watch it grow. Don’t look at the beginning. Join God in seeing the end from the beginning. When He looks at that seed, He doesn’t see the small and defenseless condition of the present. He sees already the towering tree that is contained in that defenseless present. When He looks at you and I, He doesn’t see the struggling, ineffectual way we battle our sin at the start. He sees already the finished work of His Son in our lives, the perfection of our rebirth in that day when we arrive safely home in His courts. He has not left us to grow untended and undefended. He understands time, for He created time. He understands weakness, for He took upon Himself the weakness of man; and overcame that weakness. He who went to the effort to cultivate the land of our hearts to accept the seed which He sowed is not likely to leave the field untended thereafter. He has already proven His interest and concern for that field. He will continue to see to its watering, see to its weeding. He will do everything necessary to ensure that the field He prepared so carefully remains well prepared and brings Him great return.
He had that end in mind before ever the seed was grown. It was not just a thought in His mind, a possible result of combined chance should He choose to cast seed in your vicinity. It was a certain result. It was the result of careful and thorough planning; every contingency accounted for, every provision set in place in advance, awaiting but the moment against which it was provided. He is not just hoping for a harvest from the planting in your life. He is certain of it. “I have said it, and I will do it. MY zeal will accomplish this thing.” That is the God of our Salvation: the God (the only God) whose Word does not return to Him void, but accomplishes all His purpose.
So, in your times of weakness, look not to your weakness. Cry out to the Almighty God. If all your plans are failing to move you the first step forward, it’s time not to lean on your own understanding. Look to the One who orders your steps. He is gracious. He will surely show you the next step, the next move. He will surely guide you if you will but keep your ears open to hear. He has cultivated and He has planted. You may be frustrated by the slow growth you see in yourself, but God knows what the frailty of your flesh will bear. Explosive growth might result in destruction instead of harvest. As much as we might long for that instant sanctification, it is not what He has designed. He has designed a progression, not an explosion. Explosions are destructive, not progressive. Growth takes time. Maturity needs that time to understand.
In the meantime, we have a Father: a father who cares for His children most wonderfully. This is one of the things that birds may symbolize. Isaiah 31:5 presents God as the protector of Jerusalem, protecting and delivering them like a flying bird protects her nestlings. Certainly, there is that aspect to what we have experienced in our own relationship with God. I know I can attest to many times when His protection was there around me even before I knew enough to recognize His help. How I attributed such things to my own cleverness and talent! Yet, a truthful look must lead me to confess that these things by which I was saved were beyond my ability. In this, I can also see God’s parental attitude toward us. Like any good Father, even if He must do the real work to see us safe, He uses it as an opportunity to increase our own confidence. While He never expects or allows us to lose sight of our great need for Him, He really isn’t trying to raise up a family that cannot cope on its own. No father wants a child that never grows up to the point of independence. Likewise, no child really outgrows his need to hear a father’s counsel. The wisdom of a father’s years will always contain that which can benefit the younger man, and he knows it. It is a rare and ungrateful man who fails to mourn the loss of his father.
There is one other symbolic sense to the bird that I find particularly striking in conjunction with this image of the mustard tree. Whether or not it was truly a part of the picture Jesus sought to paint, I cannot say, yet it seems to fit well. Fausset’s makes that point that the bird was, among other things, the emblem of superhuman intelligence. In that light, isn’t it interesting that we find the Holy Spirit descending upon the Son in the form of a dove. He is, after all, the One sent to speak all truth to us, to teach us all things.
So, looking back over the parable, we have the seed of the kingdom which is the Word sown into the cultivated field of our lives. That small beginning grows into a tree which provides shelter and food to us: the kingdom growing within our own lives. And, such is the kingdom tree that the Holy Spirit comes and makes His home in the branches that have grown. What was the parable given to teach? It was given to teach about how the kingdom of heaven comes to man. Do you see the picture He has painted now? The Father sowed the seed of the Son into soil cultivated by the Holy Spirit (Who, we might recall, was hovering over the earth at the start, like a brooding hen hovers over her eggs). He was born the least of men, having nothing about His form or His background to recommend Him. He was born in the most meager circumstances to a pair of nobodies from the backwaters of the least of nations. Yet, the seed of the Son takes root amongst those hearts the Spirit had prepared to receive Him, and it grows. It grows in such fashion as takes us by surprise. The kingdom grows quickly, soon surpassing everything around it for stature. And, as that tree grows, the Holy Spirit comes to abide in its branches.
This points forward to that promise Jesus left with His disciples. He had promised to send another helper who would be with them forever, the Spirit of truth that abides with and in you (Jn 14:16-17). There He is: the bird nested in the branches. I have often wondered how it is that the Holy Spirit, Who is Himself wholly God, can abide the idea of abiding in us. After all, we know God cannot abide to so much as look at sin. So, how is it that the Holy Spirit can abide with us who, while saved by grace, are yet sinners in spite of our best efforts? Of course, we who walk as being in the world but not of it have a responsibility to make this life of ours a temple fit for that abiding Holy Spirit of God within us. Yet, we cannot honestly claim to have fully complied with that responsibility. So, how does He abide? How can He stand it? Is He subject to a nearly perpetual grief on our account? Here in this parable I think I find an answer. While it is true He abides in us, He abides in that tree which is growing from the Seed of Righteousness which was planted in us. That which is growing in the soil of our lives is becoming a part of us as it grows, so it is reasonable to speak of the tree as part of us. True, the soil could not produce a tree without the seed, but neither can a seed grow to maturity without soil. Further, anybody who has ever had to move a shrub or a tree from one point to another can attest to the way the roots of that tree and the soil around it bond and become almost as one. So, yes, the Spirit abides with us and in us. But, His home is in that tree, not in our dirt. The tree is the very righteousness of Christ growing in the soil of our lives.
Jesus, I thank You for these pictures You have painted for us. When I consider what You have done, what You have put up with in this stubborn servant of Yours; and yet You abide as You have promised. You don’t walk away in disgust, even when I feel you must surely do so. You abide and You provide. Oh, my Lord! I have allowed weeds to grow with such terrible proliferation of late, and I have felt their terrible effect. I have felt dry and weak and unable to change. But, my God, You are with me yet. Oh, Seed of Righteousness! Let Your roots sink deep in this life! Let all the crusty soil of my life be turned afresh that You may grow in me as You ought.
Holy Spirit, I thank You for Your patient abiding. I thank You also, for this bit of understanding You have brought to me this morning, that I might better understand how You can abide. Oh! The joy of knowing that You are with me yet, ensuring that I do not forget. Oh! Teach me today how to overcome once again! Come, Holy Spirit and weed this garden that righteousness may grow more readily. Oh! How I need Your attention and aid today. Let this be the day when giants fall and the kingdom is seen triumphant, towering over every other thing that has tried to take root in my life.
Father, to You also my thanks are due. What words could possibly be enough to express my gratitude to You for having chosen to plant Your kingdom in my life? Without You, Lord, I know where I would be. I need only look back across those situations in which You were working even when I was Your enemy. I need only look at those things I was trying to say ‘yes’ to, but You insisted on a ‘no’. Truly, by Your grace I have been saved. Truly, You have wrapped Your wings around me all these years, keeping me from my worst foolishness until I should begin to mature in the ways of Your kingdom. Oh, Lord, I know I have done sufficiently foolish and destructive things all the same, and I ask Your forgiveness for that foolishness. I repent with all I have in me of those things that have made this temple of flesh less suitable for Your glory, and I ask humbly of my Almighty Triune Lord and King that You may send Your aid today that this repentance may be a true turning of my ways. Oh, God! Show Yourself strong in this weak vessel! Let this be the day of victory, the day of walls torn down and freedom declared.
