Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 945
Delivered on Lord’s-Day Morning, August 14, 1870
“My soul desired the first ripe fruit.” Micah 7:1.
THE nation of Israel had fallen into so sad and backsliding a condition—it was not like a vine covered with fruit, but like a vineyard after the whole vintage has been gathered—there was not to be found a single cluster. Not one righteous man could be found, not one to be trusted or found faithful to God. The whole state had become like a field that has been closely reaped, in which nothing remains but the stubble—like a vineyard that has been completely stripped, in which there remains no vestige of fruit.
The Prophet, speaking in the name of Israel, desired the first ripe fruits, but there were none to be had. The lesson of the text, as it stands, would be that good men are the best fruit of a nation—they make it worth while that the nation should exist. They are the salt which preserves it, they are the fruit which adorns it and blesses it. Pray we then for our country, that God will continually raise up a righteous seed, a faithful band, who, for His name’s sake, shall be a sweet savor unto God, for whose sake He may bless the whole land.
But I mean to take our text out of its connection and use it as the heading of a discourse upon ripeness in Divine Grace. I think we can all use the words of Micah in another sense, when he said, “My soul desired the first ripe fruit.” We would desire not to be merely the green blade, we desire to be the full corn in the ear. We would not merely show forth the blossoms of repentance and the young buds of struggling faith, but we would go on to maturity and bring forth fruit unto perfection, to the honor and praise of Jesus Christ.
This morning, then, I speak about ripeness in Grace, maturity in the Divine life, fruit ready to be gathered—and our first point shall be the marks of this ripeness. The second, the causes that work together to create this ripeness. The third, the desirability of the ripeness. The fourth, the solemnity of the whole subject.
I. First, then, let us speak upon THE MARKS OF RIPENESS IN GRACE. Let us begin with the mark of beauty. There is a great beauty in a fruit tree when it is in bloom. Perhaps there is no more lovely object in all nature than the apple blossom. But this beauty soon fades—one shower of rain, one descent of hail, one puff of the north wind—and very soon the blossoms fall like snow. And if they remain their full time, speedily, indeed, in any case, they must withdraw from view.
Much loveliness adorns youthful piety. The love of his espousals, his first love, his first zeal, all make the newborn Believer comely. Can anything be more delightful than our first graces? Even God Himself delights in the beauty of the blossoming Believer. “I remember you,” says He, “the love of your espousals, when you went after Me in the wilderness.” Autumn has a more sober aspect, but still it rivals the glory of spring. Ripe fruit has its own peculiar beauty. As the fruit ripens, the sun tints it with surpassing loveliness and the colors deepen till the beauty of the fruit is equal to the beauty of the blossom, and in some respects is superior.
What a delicacy of bloom there is upon the grape, the peach, the plum, when they have attained perfection! Nature far excels art, and all the attempts of the modeler in wax cannot reach the marvelous blends of color, the matchless tints of the ripe fruit, worthy of Eden before the Fall. It is another sort of beauty altogether from that of the blossom, yielding to the eye of the farmer, who has the care of the garden, a fairer sight by far. The perfumed bloom yields in value to the golden apple, even as promise is surpassed by fulfillment. The blossom is painted by the pencil of hope, but the fruit is dyed in the hue of enjoyment.
There is in ripe Christians the beauty of realized sanctification which the Word of God knows by the name of “the beauty of holiness.” This consecration to God, this setting apart for His service, this watchful avoidance of evil, this care-
ful walking in integrity, this dwelling near to God, this being made like unto Christ—in a word, this beauty of holiness is one of the surest emblems of maturity in Grace. You have no ripe fruit if you are not holy.
If your passions are still not subdued, if still you are carried about by every wind of temptation—if still, “Lo here, and lo there,” will attract you to the right hand and to the left, you have not reached to anything like maturity— perhaps you are not even fruit unto God at all. But where holiness is perfected in the fear of God, and the Christian is at least striving after perfect holiness—and aiming to be conformed to the image of Christ—one of the marks of the ripe fruit is plainly present.
Another mark is never absent in a mature Believer—namely, the weight which is evidenced in humility. Look at the corn in the field, it holds its head erect while it is green, but when the ear is filled and matured, it hangs its head in graceful humbleness. Look at your fruit trees, how their blossoming branches shoot up towards the sky, but when they begin to be loaded with fruit, since the riper the fruit the greater its weight, the branch begins to bow, until it needs oftentimes to be propped up and to be supported, lest it break away from the stem. Weight comes with maturity, lowliness of mind is the inevitable consequence.