Nothing but Leaves
A Eevekie fok the Close of the Tear.
JESUS was on his way from Bethauy to Jerusalem, — “hungry.” He espied a fig-tree afar off, well laden with leaves. As that tree puts forth its fruit in advance of its foliage, when a man should discover leaves on it he would, of course, expect to find figs. The successor having already appeared, he would look for the forerunner.
Jesus hastens to the tree which had telegraphed to him already that it was in bearing condition; and lo! “he found nothing but leaves.” Forthwith he dooms it to perpetual barrenness. “No man eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever.” The deceitful tree thus cursed of its Owner withered down to its very roots.
Here is a parable for the close of the year. It is full of tender and touching solemnity to thousands of our readers. This parable from history teaches us the worthlessness of religious promises that are never fulfilled, and the guilt of appearing to be fruit-bearers when the eye of God sees “nothing but leaves.”
There is no sin in promises. Cherry-trees must issue their white and fragrant “promissory notes” in May, or there would be no payment in delicious fruit at the end of the allotted sixty days. God makes precious promises to us; and a converted heart is only in the line of duty when it makes a solemn promise, or covenant, to the Church and its Head Christ Jesus. There is no sin in a church-covenant honestly made. The sin is in breaking it.
How full of leaves was the plausible fig-tree on the road to Bethany! How profuse of promises is many a young professor, as he stands up laden with the foliage on which the dew-drops of hope are glistening! How much his pastor expects from him. He makes no reserve when he covenants to “consecrate himself, all that he is, and all that he has, to the service of his Redeemer.” As many a reader sees this solemn sentence, it sends a pang to their hearts. That was their promise. They once put forth just such “leaves” before their Master’s eye, and before the eyes of men, and led them to expect an abundance of fruit. For a time the glossy leaves of profession made a fair show. But when the novelty of a new position had worn off, and that time of reaction came which always follows a strong mental excitement, then the yoke began to gall the conscience, and every religious duty became an irksome drudgery. The Cross lost its charm; prayer lost its power; the Word of God lost its attraction; the very name of Jesus lost its hold; and church-membership became a hateful mask which its owner was ashamed to wear, and yet afraid to fling away. Before the world, the fig-tree still bore leaves; but beneath them was utter barrenness.
My backsliding friend! this tells the sad story of your past year’s life. As you look back over the barren year now closing, you find nothing hut leaves. Your name is still on a church-record, but this fruitless wasted year has had no “record on high.” Out of all the three hundred and sixty days that God has given you, not one has been passed with Christ, not one is marked with “a white stone” of fidelity. Instead of a sheaf, you have not gathered a single spear. Instead of leading others to Christ, you have not even followed Him yourself. Instead of growing in grace, you have lost even the self-respect which a false life always forfeits. The past is past. Fold up the pages of this dead, barren, wasted year, and write on it the bitter inscription, “Nothing but leaves.”
Will you bear with a few plain truths even though they have a sharp edge] You need them, and they are spoken in love. The simple fact is that you are “backsliders in heart.” The best evidence of this assertion is that you do not feel as you once felt, you do not do what you once did, you do not enjoy what you once enjoyed, you do not pray as you once prayed, and you do not live as you did in the days of your “first love,” You are off the track, and are on a track that leads away from heaven. You are more intent on making money, or in pleasure-hunting, or in pushing up into social promotions, than you are in serving God, or in trying to save sinners from hell. You would blush if you attempted to ask an impenitent sinner to become what you profess to he I Your worldly self-seekings have only been a climb up to that dizzy “mast-head” from which you may be flung off the farther into the yawning sea. If you confess your sins to God, you still cling to them. And if you dealt as faithlessly with your fellow-men as you deal with your Lord, your note or your word would not be taken by a solitary person for a moment I While you live thus, you can have no peace of conscience. While you live thus, neither the Church nor the world fully trusts you; for you once left the world to join the Church, and then slipped away from the very fellowship which you still profess to hold. While you live so, you are nullifying your pastor’s labors, and voting deliberately against a revival of religion in your church. Not only are you yielding “nothing but leaves,” but they are the brown, withered, worthless leaves, such as (he wintry winds are now whirling through the forests.
“Nothing but leaves: the Spirit grieves Over a wasted life; Sin committed while conscience slept. Promises made, but never kept, Idle words for earnest deeds, — Nothing but leaves!
And shall we meet the Master so.
Bearing our withered leaves? The Saviour looks for perfect fruit: We stand before him ashamed and mute,
Waiting that word he breathes, — Nothing but leaves!”
Such are the sad thoughts and sorrowful self-reproaches that are troubling the spirits of many professed Christians as they review the year now closing. They admit that they have backslidden from their “first love,” and have borne no fruit to their Master’s glory. But the best repentance for sin is to forsake it; and the only amends that can be made for neglected duties is to resume them, and perform them at once. Do not stop, then, my brother, with sighing and sorrowing over the lost year that is just going with its accounts to God. Lay hold of the incoming year by the forelock, and begin, it with a new consecration of yourself to Jesus. Go back to that deserted place of prayer. Put on the armor afresh, — humbled,- yet hopeful. Seek such a reconversion as Peter had when he came out of Pilate’s garden, weeping but forgiven. Make for yourself a “happy new year” by commencing a new life! “This battle is lost” said one of his marshals to Napoleon; “but there is time enough before sundown to fight another and win it.” The opening year calls us to new resolutions, new hopes, and new consecrations. It has glorious revivals in store for us, if we will but resolve — with God’s help — to cover with golden fruit the boughs that have been bearing nothing but leaves!