I. Its stability. “Take rest.” This is necessary to growth. And life is necessary to it. You may plant a stone, or a piece of dried wood, but it can never take root. Why? It wants the mysterious principle called life. Reasons for this. And the roots are the firmest part of the plant. Hence the metaphor—a man is rooted in his position. Fine forest-tree with roots, like arms, many feet on every side. Impossible to dislodge that tree. This is one of the emblems of the stability of the Christian’s spiritual position (Col. ii. 7). Thus the stability of the Church, the aggregate of spiritual men, is set forth in the text. It has struck its roots so deep, and spread them so far, that, as hitherto, so in the future, it shall continue. Storms of opposition, persecution, infidelity unable to uproot it. “The gates of hell shall not prevail.”

II. Its growth. Rooting of a tree only valuable in relation to its continued life and growth. Look at it in the individual member of the spiritual Israel. In the living tree in spring the bud breaks forth, then the beautiful blossom—promise of the fruit. So in the Christian life. Gradually it develops by a certain though irregular progression. Nor will this promise of fruitfulness be falsified (Gal. v. 22, 23; Rom. vi. 22; Ps. xcii. 13, 14; H. E. I., 2508–2516, 2538–2544). Multiply this by the number of living members in any Church, and how much of spiritual goodness, and beauty will be in that circle! Not only within it, but in the homes, among the neighbours, over the whole sphere of their influence. Then multiply this by all the Churches. What an amount of moral beauty thus in the world!

III. Its diffusion. “And fill the face of the world with fruit.” This vision was always present to the prophet’s eye. Suppose it realised, and the whole world converted. Then the world will be filled with goodness. But it is all in the spiritual succession from Jacob. How much comes of little! So it has ever been; small beginnings, gradual growth, great endings.

Do you say you cannot believe in the world’s conversion? Do you believe the harvest comes from the seed? That Jesus multiplied the loaves? Is anything too hard for the Lord?—J. Rawlinson.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Note the translation of this verse by Alexander and Delitzsch, in which Kay, Birks, and Cheyne concur.

The Day of the East Wind.

xxvii. 8. In measure, when Thou sendest it forth, &c. (Margin).

We have often complained of the bitterness and depressing effects of the “east wind.” In Bible lands it was scorching and destructive (Job xxi. 18; xxvii. 12; Gen. xli. 6). Israel is represented in this chapter as a vineyard, of which God was the proprietor and guardian (ver. 3). The removal of the people to Babylon seemed to contradict this declaration. They presented the appearance of a vineyard uncared for, forsaken, neglected, and spoiled. The east wind, sweeping over it, marred its beauty and checked its growth, and its desolation seemed complete. The question arises, Does God really mean what He says when He engages to keep His vineyard with continued care? In reply to this question the prophet speaks here. He justifies the ways of God to man, explaining the Divine procedure, and showing the purpose of that afflictive dispensation which He visited upon His beloved vineyard. What a consoling subject, is here presented,—the trials of the godly (1), in their severity, and (2), in their mitigation.

I. The severity of Christian Trial. Our seasons of sharp distress and loss are fitly set forth as “the day of the east wind,” biting and piercing, when the heart is joyless and depressed. God, who sends it, means us to feel its keenness. The severity of our trials appears—1. In the time when they overtake us. The east wind prevails with us in the early spring. So in our experience of life, when all is full of fair promise, our hopes are blasted. A young and tender faith is often sorely tested. We would push adversity into old age, with youth as a course of uninterrupted joy; but at the most unlikely periods the day of the east wind sweeps over us. 2. In their violence. The wind of adversity seems to us cruel and devastating. We speak of a reverse or bereavement as “a sad blow.” 3. In their continuance. We could tolerate an occasional day of east wind, but when it blows persistently for weeks, we begin to grumble. Afflictions sometimes follow each other in rapid succession. The night of weeping is long and dark, and it seems as if the morning of joy would never break (H. E. I., 52, 53). 4. Because of the aspect in which God appears to us when we are under them. He seems to be contending, “debating” with us, to be opposed to us. This gives the keenest poignancy to our griefs. How unworthy, often, is the view we form of God’s character in the day of the east wind, charging Him with partiality and injustice. Of all ingredients that embitter the cup of suffering, this is the most bitter, but it is an ingredient which the sufferer puts in with his own hand. As in the time of east winds weak and cheerless people fall into dull, moody fits, the sighing breezes chiming in with the dull music of their own spirits, so in the day of adversity the soul sometimes loses its sense of the Divine Love.