One verse of our text says, 'He shall not see when good cometh'; the
other one, according to our Authorised Version, 'He shall not see when
heat cometh.' But a very slight alteration of one word in the original
gives a better reading, which is adopted in the Revised Version, where
we have, 'and shall not fear when heat cometh.' That alteration is
obviously correct, because there follows immediately a parallel clause,
'and shall not be careful'--or anxious--'in the year of drought.' In
both these clauses the metaphor of the tree is a little let go; and the
man who is signified by it comes rather more to the front than in the
remainder of the picture. But that is quite natural.
So look at these two simple thoughts for a moment. He whose trust is
set upon creatures is thereby disabled from recognising what is his
highest good. His judgment is perverted. _There_ is the explanation of
the fact that men are contented with the partial and evanescent
blessedness that may be drawn from human loves and companionship and
material things. It is because they have gone blind, and the false
direction of their confidence, has put out their eyes. And if any of my
hearers are living careless about God, and all that comes from Him, and
perfectly contented with that which they find in this visible, diurnal
sphere, that is not because they have the good which they need, but
because they do not know that good when they see it, and have lost the
power of discerning what is really for their benefit and blessedness.
There is nothing sadder in this world than the conspiracy into which
men seem to have entered to ignore the highest good, and to profess
themselves contented with the lowest. I remember a rough parable of
Luther's--the roughness of which may be pardoned for the force and
vividness of it--which bears on this matter. He tells how a company of
swine were offered all manner of dainty and refined foods, and how,
with a unanimous swinish grunt, they answered that they preferred the
warm, reeking 'grains' from the mash-tub. The illustration is coarse,
but it is not an unfair representation of the choice that some of us
are making.
'He cannot see when good cometh.' God comes, and I would rather have
some more money. God comes, and I prefer some woman's love. God comes,
and I would rather have a prosperous business. God comes, and I prefer
beer. So I might go the whole round. The man that cannot see good when
it is there before his face, because the false direction of his
confidence has blinded his eyes, cannot open his heart to it. It comes,
but it does not come in. It surrounds him, but it does not enter into
him. You are plunged, as it were, in a sea of possible felicity, which
will be yours if your heart's direction is towards God, and the
surrounding ocean of blessedness has as little power to fill your heart
as the sea has to enter some hermetically sealed flask, dropped into
the middle of the Atlantic. 'He cannot see when good cometh.' Blind,
blind, blind! are multitudes of us.
Turn to the other side. 'He shall not fear when heat cometh,' which is
evil in those Eastern lands, 'and shall not be careful in the year of
drought.' The tree, that sends its roots towards a river that never
fails, does not suffer when all the land is parched. The man who has
driven his roots into God, and is drawing from that deep source what is
needful for his life and fertility, has no occasion to dread any evil,
nor to gnaw his heart with anxiety as to what he is to do in parched
days. Troubles may come, but they do not go deeper than the surface. It
may be all cracked and caked and dry, 'a thirsty land where no water
is,' and yet deep down there may be moisture and coolness.
Faith, which is trust, and fear are opposite poles. If a man has the
one, he can scarcely have the other in vigorous operation. He that has
his trust set upon God does not need to dread anything except the
weakening or the paralysing of that trust; for so long as it lasts it
is a talisman which changes evil into good, the true philosopher's
stone which transmutes the baser metals into gold; and, so long as it
lasts, God's shield is round him and no evil can befall him.
Brethren, if our trust is in God, it is unworthy of it and of us to
fear, for all things are His, and there is no evil in evil as men call
it, so long as it does not draw away our hearts from our Father and our
Hope. Therefore, he that fears let him trust; he that trusts let him
not be afraid. He that sets his heart and anchors his hopes of safety
on any except God, let him be afraid, for he is in a very stern world,
and if he is not fearful he is a fool.
So the direction of our trust, if it is right, shuts all real evil out
from us, and if it is wrong, shuts us out from all real good.