Man and His Glory Like the Grass and Its Flower
Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever. For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: but the word of the Lord endureth for ever.” — 1 Pet. i. 23-25.
These verses institute a comparison, and bring out a contrast, between the natural and the spiritual life. Every son of man is born into one life; and every son of God is born again into another. There is a mystery in every man; but a greater mystery in every Christian. Nature is deep; but grace is deeper.
It is not a contrast between the carnal and the spiritual mind. Of these it cannot be said that the one is short-lived and the other enduring. Spirit does not die, whether saved or unsaved. The two lives brought together in the text are the natural life of men in the body which soon fades away, and the new life of the regenerated which will for ever flourish. These two lives are not in all their aspects opposite, for the same person may at the same time possess both. When a man is born of the Spirit, he is not then and thereby stripped of the life which belongs to the flesh: every child of God, from the day of his conversion till the day of his death, possesses and enjoys both. He holds them, however, by different tenures: the first or natural life will soon depart; but the new or spiritual life will be his for ever.
That which is in the text expressly and repeatedly said to be everlasting, is not the Scriptures as an external revelation of truth, but the “word of God” as the seed of a new life in believers. There is a sense in which it may be truly said that the written word, viewed objectively, will last for ever; but the apostle speaks here of the word as it lies in the broken heart, and lives in the new creature.
In the 23d verse we learn that the new life of Christians springing from incorruptible seed is like the seed from which it springs; in the 24 th verse, quoted from Isaiah (chap. xL), we learn that the natural life of the body which we all possess in common is like the green herbage, and all its glory like the flower which that herbage bears. The two are compared in respect to endurance, and the result is, that while the one lasts only a season, the other will never die.
I. Explain the analogy.
II. Illustrate its truth by examples.
III. Apply the lessons which it contains.
I. Explain the analogy. “All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of the grass;” the figure fits so exactly that we may venture to make a close inspection, and institute a minute analysis. The comparison of human life generally to the green herbage contains two distinct yet corresponding parts, expressed in the usual manner of Hebrew poetry. First, we have the simple, broad, and comprehensive intimation, “All flesh is grass;’” and then a more special analogy?- rising out of it, as the flower springs from the stalk, “The glory of man is like the flower of the grass,” Man is like the grass, and his glory like its flower; life is short, and the period of its perfect development between the first and the second childhood is shorter still.
The analogy, in its first and more general form, requires scarcely any exposition: no comparison could be more true or more obvious. Mankind are like the herbage of summer, which will wither at the turn of the year, although no accident befall it, and is liable to be crushed before its time under the wild beast’s foot, or cut through by the mower’s scythe. A human life passes through the same stages as the herbage of a season; it has a growing spring, a ripening summer, and a fading autumn. The history of a man consists of a gradual growing to maturity, and a gradual declining to the grave. Such is his best estate, when no accident cuts him off” in mid-time of his days. This is the mirror which truly refiects the image of “all flesh.” So pass the threescore and ten years which sum up this mortal pilgrimage. It is like a dream when one awaketh: it seems very small when it is nearly done.
But if this is true of the flesh — the sentient nature which man has in common with the brutes, — what shall be said of all that constitutes his distinguishing peculiarity as a moral and intelligent being? Although the mere flesh is evanescent, what of the glory with which his
Maker has crowned his head? Our text has two things to say of this glory — the first, that it greatly excels in worth and beauty the animal nature on which it giows; the second, that it is still more short-lived. If all flesh be as the grass, all its glory is as the flower of the grass. And what are the distinOTishinoj characteristics of the flower? These two: greater brilliance, and a shorter day. The herbage grows long and far ere the flower appears; and the flower, though more beautiful than its supporting stalk, fades and falls before it. The flower is indeed the glory of the grass, but it comes up later, and withers earlier. What shall we say, then, of all that is peculiar to man? — of that human face divine, and that articulate speech, and that calculating mind, which mark him out as the chief of God’s creatures here, and ruler of his world? Can the glory of man’s soul, as well as his sentient nature, be compared to grass? No; for though it is more brilliant while it lasts, it is sooner over. The distinguishing excellence of human nature is not like the grass, it is only like the flower of the grass.
None of these defects adhere to the new creature. The life which is hid with Christ in God is not like grass; it will never decay. The features of the Redeemer’s likeness, which, through the ministry of the Spirit, gradually grow upon it and constitute its glory, are not like earthly flowers. Those who have been created again in Christ Jesus shall stand around the throne in white clothing, with palms in their hands. They are and shall be for ever, without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing. Let us now,
II. Illustrate the truth of the analogy by examples, “We shall examine in detail some specimens of those flowers which constitute the glory of humanity, with the view of pointing out that, though they fade soon from the natural life of the mere son of man, they flourish for ever on the resurrection life of those who in the regeneration have become the children of God.
]. Beauty of form ought, without any scruple, to be ranked as one of the glories of humankind; we should neither despise nor adore it. It is quite true that it often becomes a snare, — becomes the handle by which the tempter holds his victim, — but that is no detraction from its excellence. It only shows — what we all knew before — that bad people abuse good things. The erect attitude, the upward look on heaven, the symmetry of structure and nicely-balanced proportions, the expressive features, and the various peculiarities of shade, and form, and motion, and magnitude, which go to constitute human beauty, should not be lightly esteemed. In our species beauty of person is the rule and tendency of nature, although particular features in individuals may by various accidents be more or less obscured. It has pleased God our Father so to arrange the features of our frame, and so to constitute our minds, that we coimt them beautiful. We admire the flower of the grass, and devoutly see in it the wisdom of its Maker; shall we not look with deeper interest on a lighted human countenance, and see in that glory of man a glory to the Lord? Loathe as much as you will the moral depravity which converts all a Father’s gifts into instruments of evil; but reverently acknowledge the mark of his fingers in the model of man.
This glory does not last long. It is a flower, lovely, fragrant, attractive; but it withers soon. Man’s life is short; but the glory which grows upon it is shorter. The flower is later blown and earlier faded than the frail green stem which bears it.
But the beauty of the new creature in Christ does not fade like a flower. It is an interesting speculation — although it can be nothing more — to imagine the beauty of unfallen man. The peculiar sweetness sometimes imparted to the countenance of an ordinary person by the sudden influx of a “great peace” in periods of spiritual revival, suggests the probability that we lost by sin an external loveliness so great that we lack now the power even of conceiving what it was. But great though the loss be. Christians sorrow not over it as those who have no hope; for their gain is greater. Whatever was lost by sin is restored by redemption. Well might the angel say, “Why weepest thou?” to the disciple who was sorrowing beside the empty grave of Jesus. The Head has risen; the members shall rise. The risen Christ is glorious, and risen Christians will be like him. Humanity redeemed will be humanity perfect. As the idea of man in the mind of God from eternity, will be the man who shall stand in his presence accepted at the great day.
I would fain realize the beauty of the resurrection body, as well as the spiritual purity of the saints in light. Oh, how beautiful man will be when there is no longer any seed of corruption in his body, or any enmity to God in his soul! I think a true Christian sometimes halts painfully in his pilgrimage for want of this ingredient in his hope. The redemption of the soul is, indeed, the most precious thing; thereon depend all other blessings; but among the blessed things that lean on it, the perfection of the redeemed body is a consoling hope — a consolation which Christians greatly need in this vale of tears. “How bright these glorious spirits shine!” Yea; but when Christ’s work is completed, they will be embodied spirits. “How bright these glorious bodies shine,” when they are washed from sin in the Saviour’s blood, and raised from the grave by his power! These flowers will never fade.
2. Articulate speech is another glory of man. It places him far above the flesh — the sentient nature which he shares with the inferior creatures. It is like a flower in respect to its surpassing beauty; and like a flower, too, in respect to its short duration. It lasts longer than some flowers, but not so long as the herb on which it grows. It does not open its blossom until the human creature has spent an infantine spring, dumb like the brutes; and it begins to fade before the natural life has altogether decayed. Infancy does not possess it at all; and old age retains only its shattered remnants.
As it springs in the new life this is a perennial flower. How sweet will speech be when all languages shall have been merged in one, and all tongues be employed in publishing the Redeemer’s praise! This glory of the flesh will drop in the dust soon, like flowers under the first frosts of autumn, — these tongues will soon be silent; but if we are new creatures in Christ, they will yet speak again. Striving to realize the highest conceivable degree of excellence in speech, Paul (1 Cor. xiii.) suggests the idea of one speaking “with the tongues of men and of angels.”* That which the greatest saint in the body here could only with difficulty imagine, the meanest saint in glory will actually enjoy. In addition to the tongue of angels, of which the spirits made perfect will partake, the redeemed of the Lord in their resurrection state will regain the tongue of men, and, with both experiences combined, will sustain the highest part in the concert of a new creation.
“Every man that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself even as he is pure “(1 John iii. 3). Hope in Christ leads to holiness; and, in particular, the hope of employing these tongues in speaking the Redeemer’s praise among perfected saints and angels, would be mighty to purge them from all impurity now. Shall I defile with lies or lewdness that wonderfully-fashioned instrument on which the name of Christ will resound for ever in a holy heaven? Your tongues. Christians, are bought with a price; they are not your ovni; surrender them to the service of their owner. ‘’ Speaking the truth in love” is the phase which the flower should maintain under these wintry skies now; what the beauty of its blossom shall be, eye hath not seen nor ear heard.
3. The various powers of mind which go to make up the peculiar glory of man are so many flowers, both for beauty and for brevity. Out of many take, for example, one: —
Memory. A gorgeous blossom to grow in such a lowly place, and be sustained by such a fragile stalk! So many and so great are its uses in the various operations of human minds and human hands, that, wanting it, man would not be man. It goes into everything, and goes, not as an accessory, but an essential. It is the thread on which all the pearls of knowledge are strung: if it were drawn out, the various processes of the -understanding would fall and lie like glittering beads scattered on the ground. Wanting memory, all mental activity would be like a heap of leaden letters in a printer’s fount, with no skilful hand to set them in an intelligible page.
Like a flower as to beauty while it blooms, it is like a flower, too, in its tendency to fade. It does not appear so early as the herb, and does not remain so long. By slow degrees and much labour the memory is exercised into strength. In its maturity it has a glory that excelleth: it is one of the fearful and wonderful things in our frame. In the processes of business, of music, of science, its glory glances forth like sunbeams: but if man lives out his allotted span, this flower which grows so sweetly on his flesh will fade before him. It is a melancholy sight to see it drooping while its stalk still stands sapful and vigorous. The sagacious merchant who was wont to sit in silence at his desk, holding in his hands the multifarious threads of a business which spread like network across four continents, remains at home now; or enters the ofiice at the accustomed hour, to turn mechanically the leaves of the ledger, which to him has lost its meaning. Younger men grasped the reins as they fell from his feeble fingers, and the *’head of the firm’^ is gently set aside. In like manner the man of science loses himself in labyrinths through which he once could easily thread his way. The senator leaves the stage of public life, or rather is jostled out by stronger, because younger competitors. In all these spheres the process of decay is similar; the old man has not now so good a memory as once he had; or some other essential faculty has given way. The herbage is still green, but the flower has withered; the living man is there, but his glory has departed.
So fades the flower from the natural life; but on the new life of the regenerate it blooms for ever. Those who are branches in the true vine, draw from his root an unfading freshness.
“Those that within the house of God,
Are planted by his grace,
They shall grow up, and flourish all
In our Grod’s holy place,”
Memory in the resurrection life will never grow dim: it will be a mirror always bright, in which the ever-lengthening past may be clearly seen. The redeemed of the Lord, when they have arrived at home, “forget not all his benefits.” The fall by sin, and the pardon through Christ, — the death in which they lay, and the life into which the Holy Spirit led them, — the pardoned will never forget. These will constitute the materials of the new song, and the song will be always new. By its nature and its circumstances the new life must be making constant progress; it cannot stand still. As ages pass there will be more mercies to be remembered, and the memory will contaia more. The memory of the just made perfect will “grow by what it feeds on,” “All the fulness of God” lies open as the treasure out of which it may draw its supply, and it will therefore be ever filling, never full.
No petal shall ever drop from that flower after it has been transplanted into the garden of God; not one of all the multitude of mercies which he has enjoyed will ever slip from the memory of a saint in rest. The glory of the new man is not like the flowers of the earth, which sparkle “upwards on the sky for a season and then die; but, like those flowers of light which lie spread so thickly on the field of heaven, and shed thence their mild lustre on the earth, it will “shine as the stars for ever and ever.’’
III. Apply the lessons which the text contains. The analogy is exquisite, and the parallel lines of Hebrew poetry in which it is expressed are admirably fitted to bring out its beauty. We can all in some measure appreciate the truth of the sentiment, and the appropriateness of the language in which it is clothed; but if we go no further, the word will be to us “the letter which killeth,” and not “the Spirit which giveth life.” Beautiful imagery cannot take away sin, either in its condemning guilt or its ruling power. To gratify the taste does not make the heart new. The lesson so sweetly spoken here concerns ourselves; it is fitted to search and solemnize us. Laying the axe to the root of nature’s best supports, it should make us flee “for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us,”
The practical lesson of the text is directly applicable both to those who have attained the spiritual, and those who possess as yet only the natural life. To those it says, Of the two lives which stir within you, one will wither soon, and the other Will bloom for ever, — do not neglect the greater for the less; to these it says. The only life which you have will fade like the grass, — seek, ere it be too late, the life eternal.
1. Christian, two distinct lives throb within you; the one, by its hurried, bustling motion, is “beating the dead march to the grave;” the other, though feeble as a new-born babe, being ‘’ hid with Christ in God,” is now and shall for ever be beyond the reach of death. Here the question naturally arises, Do you distribute your regard between these two according to their worth? What shall we eat, what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed? is a great cry in the world, — a great cry in the church. It is not wrong to raise it; it is the duty of a Christian to care for the natural life which God has given him; to neglect it would be to throw his gifts away. The Bible does not bid us neglect the natural life, but it suggests some pungent questions regarding its comparative worth: “What shall it prx)fit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.”
The spiritual life is an exotic in this world, and needs more care than the other which is indigenous in the soil.
“Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling ‘* (Phil. ii. 12). Fear and trembling are the words; fear lest the new life wither for want of depth, or be scorched by temptation, or choked by the world’s cares. Christians should not lay out their strength in the cultivation of this green herb and its transient flower; in decking this frail body, and polishing this human speech, and exercising their mental faculties on things that perish in the using. Give all these their own subordinate place, and let the deepest, strongest, straining of your soul go to cherish unto strength that other life which is “Christ in you the hope of glory” (Col. i. 27).
2. It is a great mistake to leave a precious soul to the chances of this short, uncertain life. Such blunders are not common in the business of the world. The valuable cargo must indeed be, in one sense, intrusted to the frail ship in a stormy season near a rocky shore; but ere the ship has left the river, the goods are insured to the full extent of their value. In complicated transactions you may sometimes meet with loss in spite of all your care; but you do not in mere recklessness rush into foreseen disaster. In a certain transaction you require security, and two are laid before you for your choice; one is the name of a shifty, slippery, venturesome, penniless man, and the other a first bond on a broad estate; you never hesitate, and never err. Where the distinction between the uncertain and the sure is so obvious and so important, the instinct of self-interest fastens at once upon the good and rejects the evil. Oh, for a similar sense and vigour in the management of our highest interests! This life is likej the grass; it will wither at the end of the season; all the glory of this life is like the flower of the grass; although its bloom is brighter it will sooner die. Your life may survive a few years as a flowerless stalk; but it is neither much courted by others nor much enjoyed by yourself, after its ornaments have one by one dropped off.
When this active limb grows feeble, have I no other support? When the beauty of the flesh grows ghastly, have I nothing fair to look upon? When this tabernacle is decajdng, have I no mansion prepared in the Father’s house? It is a fearful thing to be driven out of this life before you have obtained another. The saddest case is perhaps the commonest; to be so oppressed by disease, or so callous by habit, that you permit death to close upon you and jostle you out of the only life you have, without either a beam of hope or a cry of anguish.
It is not after the storm has arisen, or the telegraph has reported that his ship has struck, that the merchant runs to insure his goods. He effects the insurance while the sun is shining and the air calm; he effects the insurance before the ship has cleared from the dock, or at all events before she has left the river. Go and do likewise, living, but dying men! Now is the accepted time; to-day, according to the true testimony of his adversaries, “This man receiveth sinners.” God with us is waiting; still his terms are, “Whosoever will.” To-day you may enter into life; to-morrow the door may be shut.