Supposing Him to be the Gardener A Sermon

Supposing Him to be the Gardener

A Sermon

(No. 1699)

Delivered on Lord's Day Morning, December 31st, 1882, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.

"Supposing him to be the gardener."–John 20:15.

I WAS sitting about a fortnight ago in a very lovely garden, in the
midst of all kinds of flowers which were blooming in delightful
abundance all around. Screening myself from the heat of the sun under
the overhanging boughs of an olive, I cast my eyes upon palms and
bananas, roses and camellias, oranges and aloes, lavender and
heliotrope. The garden was full of color and beauty, perfume and
fruitfulness. Surely the gardener, whoever he might be, who had framed,
and fashioned, and kept in order that lovely spot, deserved great
commendation. So I thought, and then it came to me to meditate upon the
church of God as a garden, and to suppose the Lord Jesus to be the
gardener, and then to think of what would most assuredly happen if it
were so. "Supposing him to be the gardener," my mind conceived of a
paradise where all sweet things flourish and all evil things are rooted
up. If an ordinary worker had produced such beauty as I then saw and
enjoyed on earth, what beauty and glory must surely be brought forth
"supposing him to be the gardener"! You know the "him" to whom we
refer, the ever-blessed Son of God, whom Mary Magdalene in our text
mistook for the gardener. We will for once follow a saint in her
mistaken track; and yet we shall find ourselves going in a right way.
She was mistaken when she fell into "supposing him to be the gardener";
but if we are under his Spirit's teaching we shall not make a mistake
if now we indulge ourselves in a quiet meditation upon our ever-blessed
Lord, "supposing him to be the gardener."

It is not an unnatural supposition, surely; for if we may truly sing

"We are a garden walled around,

Chosen and made peculiar ground,"

that enclosure needs a gardener. Are we not all the plants of his right
hand planting? Do we not all need watering and tending by his constant
and gracious care? He says, "I am the true vine: my Father is the
husbandman," and that is one view of it; but we may also sing, "My
well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill: and he fenced it,
and gathered out the stones thereof, and planted it with the choicest
vine"–that is to say, he acted as gardener to it. Thus has Isaiah
taught us to sing a song of the Well-beloved touching his vineyard. We
read of our Lord just now under these terms–"Thou that dwellest in the
gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice." To what purpose does he
dwell in the vineyards but that he may see how the vines flourish and
care for all the plants? The image, I say, is so far from being
unnatural that it is most pregnant with suggestions and full of useful
teaching. We are not going against the harmonies of nature when we are
"supposing him to be the gardener."

Neither is the figure unscriptural; for in one of his own parables our
Lord makes himself to be the dresser of the vineyard. We read just now
that parable so full of warning. When the "certain man" came in and saw
the fig tree that it brought forth no fruit, he said unto the dresser
of his vineyard, "Cut it down: why cumbereth it the ground?" Who was it
that intervened between that profitless tree and the axe but our great
Intercessor and Interposer? He it is who continually comes forward with
"Let it alone this year also till I shall dig about it and dung it." In
this case he himself takes upon himself the character of the
vine-dresser, and we are not wrong in "supposing him to be the
gardener."

If we would be supported by a type, our Lord takes the name of "the
Second Adam," and the first Adam was a gardener. Moses tells us that
the Lord God placed the man in the garden of Eden to dress it and to
keep it. Man in his best estate was not to live in this world in a
paradise of indolent luxury, but in a garden of recompensed toil.
Behold, the church is Christ's Eden, watered by the river of life, and
so fertilized that all manner of fruits are brought forth unto God; and
he, our second Adam, walks in this spiritual Eden to dress it and to
keep it; and so by a type we see that we are right in "supposing him to
be the gardener." Thus also Solomon thought of him when he described
the royal Bridegroom as going down with his spouse to the garden when
the flowers appeared on the earth and the fig tree had put forth her
green figs; he went out with his beloved for the preservation of the
gardens, saying, "Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the
vines: for our vines have tender grapes." Neither nature, nor
Scripture, nor type, nor song forbids us to think of our adorable Lord
Jesus as one that careth for the flowers and fruits of his church. We
err not when we speak of him, "supposing him to be the gardener." And
so I sat me still, and indulged the suggested line of thought, which I
now repeat in your hearing, hoping that I may open many roads of
meditation for your hearts also. I shall not attempt to think out such
a subject thoroughly, but only to indicate in which direction you may
look for a vein of precious ore.

I. "Supposing him to be the gardener," we have here THE KEY TO MANY
WONDERS in the garden of his church.

The first wonder is that there should be a church at all in the world;
that there should be a garden blooming in the midst of this sterile
waste. Upon a hard and flinty rock the Lord has made the Eden of his
church to grow. How came it to be–here an oasis of life in a desert of
death? how came faith in the midst of unbelief, and hope where all is
servile fear, and love where hate abounds? "Ye are of God, little
children, and the whole world lieth in the wicked one." Whence this
being "of God" where all beside is fast shut up in the devil? How came
there to be a people for God, separated, and sanctified, and
consecrated, and ordained to bring forth fruit unto his name? Assuredly
it could not have been so at all if the doing of it had been left to
man. We understand its existence, "supposing him to be the gardener,"
but nothing else can account for it. He can cause the fir tree to
flourish instead of the thorn, and the myrtle instead of the briar; but
no one else can accomplish such a change. The garden in which I sat was
made on the bare face of the rock, and almost all the earth of which
its terraces were composed had been brought up there, from the shore
below, by hard labor, and so upon the rock a soil had been created. It
was not by its own nature that the garden was found in such a place;
but by skill and labor it had been formed: even so the church of God
has had to be constructed by the Lord Jesus, who is the author as well
as the perfecter of his garden. Painfully, with wounded hands, has he
built each terrace, and fashioned each bed, and planted each plant. All
the flowers have had to be watered with his bloody sweat, and watched
by his tearful eyes the nail-prints in his hands, and the wound in his
side are the tokens of what it cost him to make a new Paradise. He has
given his life for the life of every plant that is in the garden, and
not one of them had been there on any other theory than "supposing him
to be the gardener."

Besides, there is another wonder. How comes the church of God to
flourish in such a clime? This present evil world is very uncongenial
to the growth of grace, and the church is not able by herself alone to
resist the evil influences which surround her. The church contains
within itself elements which tend to its own disorder and destruction
if left alone; even as the garden has present in its soil all the germs
of a tangled thicket of weeds. The best church that ever Christ had on
earth would within a few years apostatise from the truth if deserted by
the Spirit of God. The world never helps the church; it is all in arms
against it; there is nothing in the world's air or soil that can
fertilise the church even to the least degree. How is it, then, that
notwithstanding all this, the church is a fair garden unto God, and
there are sweet spices grown in its beds, and lovely flowers are
gathered by the Divine hand from its borders? The continuance and
prosperity of the church can only be accounted for by "supposing him to
be the gardener." Almighty strength is put to the otherwise impossible
work of sustaining a holy people among men; almighty wisdom exercises
itself upon this otherwise insuperable difficulty. Hear ye the word of
the Lord, and learn hence the reason for the growth of his church
below. "I, the Lord, do keep it: I will water it every moment; lest any
hurt it, I will keep it night and day." That is the reason for the
existence of a spiritual people still in the midst of a godless and
perverse generation. This is the reason for an election of grace in the
midst of surrounding vice, and worldliness, and unbelief. "Supposing
him to be the gardener," I can see why there should be fruitfulness,
and beauty, and sweetness even in the center of the wilderness of sin.

Another mystery is also cleared up by this supposition. The wonder is
that ever you and I should have been placed among the plants of the
Lord. Why are we allowed to grow in the garden of his grace? Why me,
Lord? Why me? How is it that we have been kept there, and borne with in
our barrenness, when he might long ago have said, "Cut it down: why
cumbereth it the ground?" Who else would have borne with such
waywardness as ours? Who could have manifested such infinite patience?
Who could have tended us with such care, and when the care was so
ill-rewarded who would have renewed it so long from day to day, and
persisted in designs of boundless love? Who could have done more for
his vineyard? who could or would have done so much? An mere man would
have repented of his good intent, provoked by our ingratitude. None but
God could have had patience with some of us! That we have not long ago
been slipped off as fruitless branches of the vine; that we are left
still upon the stem, in the hope that we may ultimately bring forth
fruit, is a great marvel. I know not how it is that we have been
spared, except upon this ground–"supposing him to be the
gardener"–for Jesus is all gentleness and grace, so slow with his
knife, so tardy with his axe, so hopeful if we do but show a bud or
two, or, perchance, yield a little sour berry–so hopeful, I say, that
these may be hopeful prognostics of something better by-and-by.
Infinite patience! Immeasurable longsuffering! where are ye to be found
save in the breast of the Well-beloved? Surely the hoe has spared many
of us simply and only because he who is meek and lowly in heart is the
gardener.

Dear friends, there is one mercy with regard to this church which I
have often had to thank God for, namely, that evils should have been
shut out for so long a time. During the period in which we have been
together as pastor and people, and that is now some twenty-nine years,
we have enjoyed uninterrupted prosperity, going from strength to
strength in the work of the Lord. Alas! we have seen many other
churches that were quite as hopeful as our own rent with strife,
brought low by declension, or overthrown by heresy. I hope we have not
been apt to judge their faults severely; but we must be thankful for
our own deliverance from the evils which have afflicted them. I do not
know how it is that we have been kept together in love, helped to
abound in labor, and enabled to be firm in the faith, unless it be that
special grace has watched over us. We are full of faults; we have
nothing to boast of; and yet no church has been more divinely favored:
I wonder that the blessing should have lasted so long, and I cannot
make it out except when I fall into "supposing him to be the gardener."
I cannot trace our prosperity to the pastor, certainly; nor even to my
beloved friends the elders and deacons, nor even to the best of you
with your fervent love and holy zeal. I think it must be that Jesus has
been the gardener, and he has shut the gate when I am afraid I have
left it open; and he has driven out the wild boar of the wood just when
he had entered to root up the weaker plants. He must have been about at
nights to keep off the prowling thieves, and he must have been here,
too, in the noontide heat to guard those of you who have prospered in
worldly goods, from the glare of too bright a sun. Yes, he has been
with us, blessed be his name! Hence all this peace, and unity, and
enthusiasm. May we never grieve him so that he shall turn away from us;
but rather let us entreat him, saying, "Abide with us. Thou that
dwellest in the gardens, let this be one of the gardens in which thou
dost deign to dwell until the day break and the shadows flea away."
Thus our supposition is a key to many wonders.

II. Let your imaginations run along with mine while I say that
"supposing him to be the gardener" should be A SPUR TO MANY DUTIES.

One of the duties of a Christian is joy. That is a blessed religion
which among its precepts commands men to be happy. When joy becomes a
duty, who would wish to neglect it? Surely it must help every little
plant to drink in the sunlight when it is whispered among the flowers
that Jesus is the gardener. "Oh," you say, "I am such a little plant; I
do not grow well; I do not put forth so much leafage, nor are there so
many flowers on me as on many round about me!" It is quite right that
you should think little of yourself: perhaps to droop your head is a
part of your beauty: many flowers had not been half so lovely if they
had not practiced the art of hanging their heads. But supposing him to
be the gardener," then he is as much a gardener to you as he is to the
most lordly palm in the whole domain. In the Mentone garden right
before me grew the orange and the aloe, and others of the finer and
more noticeable plants; but on a wall to my left grew common
wallflowers and saxifrages, and tiny herbs such as we find on our own
rocky places. Now, the gardener had cared for all of these, little as
well as great; in fact, there were hundreds of specimens of the most
insignificant growths all duly labelled and described. The smallest
saxifrage could say, "He is my gardener just as surely as he is the
gardener of the Gloire de Dijon or Mar'chal Neil." Oh feeble child of
God, the Lord taketh care of you! Your heavenly Father feedeth ravens,
and guides the flight of sparrows: should he not much more care for
you, oh ye of little faith? Oh little plants, you will grow rightly
enough. Perhaps you are growing downward just now rather than upward.
Remember that there are plants of which we value the underground root
much more than we do the hull above ground. Perhaps it is not yours to
grow very fast; you may be a slow-growing shrub by nature, and you
would not be healthy if you were to run to wood. Anyhow, be this your
joy, you are in the garden of the Lord, and, "supposing him to be the
gardener," he will make the best of you. You cannot be in better hands.

Another duty is that of valuing the Lord's presence, and praying for
it. We ought whenever the Sabbath morning dawns to pray our
Well-beloved to come into his garden and eat his pleasant fruits. What
can we do without him? All day long our cry should go up to him, "O
Lord, behold and visit this vine, and the vineyard which thy right hand
has planted." We ought to agonize with him that he would come and
manifest himself to us as he does not unto the world. For what is a
garden if the gardener never comes near it? What is the difference
between it and the wilderness if he to whom it belongs never lifts up
spade or pruning-hook upon it? So that it is our necessity that we have
Christ with us, "supposing him to be the gardener;" and it is our bliss
that we have Christ walking between our beds and borders, watching
every plant, training, tending, maturing all. "Supposing him to be the
gardener," it is well, for from him is our fruit found. Divided from
him we are nothing; only as he watches over us can we bring, forth
fruit. Let us have done with confidence in man, let us forego all
attempts to supply facts of his spiritual presence by routine or rant,
ritualism or rowdyism; but let us pray our Lord to be ever present with
us, and by that presence to make our garden grow.

"Supposing him to be the gardener," there is another duty, and that is,
let each one of us yield himself up entirely to him. A plant does not
know how it ought to be treated; it knows not when it should be watered
or when it should be kept dry: a fruit-tree is no judge of when it
needs to be pruned, or digged, or dunged. The wit and wisdom of the
garden lieth not in the flowers and shrubs, but in the gardener. Now,
then, if you and I are here to-day with any self-will and carnal
judgment about us, let us seek to lay it all aside that we may be
absolutely at our Lord's disposal. You might not be willing to put
yourself implicitly into the hand of any mere man (pity that you
should); but, surely, thou plant of the Lord's right-hand planting,
thou mayest put thyself without a question into his dear hand. "
Supposing him to be the gardener," thou mayest well say, "I would
neither have will, nor wish, nor wit, nor whim, nor way, but I would be
as nothing in the gardener's hands, that he may be to me my wisdom and
my all. Here, kind gardener, thy poor plant bows itself to thy hand;
train me as thou wilt. Depend upon it, happiness lives next door to the
spirit of complete acquiescence in the will of God, and it will be easy
to exercise that perfect acquiescence when we suppose the Lord Jesus to
be the gardener. If the Lord hath done it; what has a saint to say? Oh
thou afflicted one, the Lord hath done it: wouldest thou have it
otherwise? Nay, art thou not thankful that it is even so, because so is
the will of him in whose hand thy life is, and whose are all thy ways?
The duty of submission is very plain, "supposing him to be the
gardener."

One more duty I would mention, though others suggest themselves.
"Supposing him to be the gardener," then let us bring forth fruit to
him. I do not address a people this morning who feel no care as to
whether they serve God or not. I believe that most of you do desire to
glorify God; for being saved by grace, you feel a holy ambition to show
forth his praises who has called you out of darkness into his
marvellous light. You wish to bring others to Christ, because you
yourselves have been brought to life and liberty in him. Now, let this
be a stimulus to your fruitbearing, that Jesus is the gardener. Where
you have brought forth a single cluster, bring, forth a hundred!
"supposing him to be the gardener." If he is to have the honor of it,
then labor to do that which will give him great renown. If our
spiritual state were to be attributed to ourselves, or to our minister,
or to some of our fellow Christians, we might not feel that we were
tinder a great necessity to be fruitful; but if Jesus be the gardener,
and is to bear the blame or the honor of what we produce, then let us
use up every drop of sap and strain every fibre, that, to the utmost of
which our manhood is capable, we may produce a fair reward for our
Lord's travail. Under such tutorship and care we ought to become
eminent scholars. Doth Christ train us? Oh let us never cause the world
to think meanly of our Master. Students feel that their alma mater
deserves great things of them, so they labor to make their university
renowned. And so, since Jesus is tutor and university to us, let us
feel that we are bound to reflect credit upon so great a teacher, upon
so divine a name. I do not know how to put it, but surely we ought to
do something worthy of such a Lord. Each little flower in the garden of
the Lord should wear its, brightest hues, and poor forth its rarest
perfume, because Jesus cares for it. The best of all possible good
should be yielded by every plant in our Father's garden, supposing
Jesus to the gardener.

Thus much, then, on those two points–a key to many wonders, and a spur
to many duties.

III. Thirdly, I have found in this supposition A RELIEF FROM CRUSHING
RESPONSIBILITY. One has a work given him of God to do, and if he does
it rightly he cannot do it carelessly. The first thing when he wakes he
asks, "How is the work prospering?" and the last thought at night is,
"What can I do to fulfill my calling?" Sometimes the anxiety even
troubles his dreams, and he sighs, "O Lord, send now prosperity!" How
is the garden prospering which we are set to tend? Are we
broken-hearted because, nothing appears to flourish? Is it a bad
season? or is the soil lean and hungry? It is a very blessed relief to
an excess of care if we can fall into the habit of "supposing him to be
the gardener." If Jesus be the Master and Lord in all things it is not
mine to keep all the church in order. I am not responsible for the
growth of every Christian, nor for every backslider's errors, nor for
every professor's faults of life. This burden must not lie on me so
that I shall be crushed thereby. "Supposing him to be the gardener,"
then, the church enjoys a better oversight than mine; better care is
taken of the garden than could be taken by the most vigilant watchers,
even though by night the frost devoured them, and by day the heat.
"Supposing him to be the gardener," then all must go well in the long
run. He that keepeth Israel doth neither slumber nor sleep; we need not
fret and despond. I beg you earnest workers, who are becoming
depressed, to think this out a little. You see it is yours to work
under the Lord Jesus; but it is not yours to take the anxiety of his
office into your souls as though you were to bear his burdens. The
under-gardener, the work-man in the garden, needs not fret about the
whole garden as though it were all left to him. No, no; let him not
take too much upon himself. I pray you, bound your anxiety by the facts
of the case. So you have a number of young people around you, and you
are watching for their souls as they that must give account. This is
well; but do not be worried and wearied; for, after all, the saving and
the keeping of those souls is not in your hands, but it rests with One
far more able than yourself. Just think that the Lord is the gardener.
I know it is so in matters of providence. A certain man of God in
troublous times became quite unable to do his duty because he laid to
heart so much the ills of the age; he became depressed and disturbed,
and he went on board a vessel, wanting to leave the country, which was
getting into such a state that he could no longer endure it. Then one
said to him, Mr. Whitelock, are you the manager of the world? No, he
was not quite that. "Did not God get on pretty well with it before you
were born, and don't you think he will do very well with it when you
are dead?" That reflection helped to relieve the good man's mind, and
he went back to do his duty. I want you thus to perceive the limit of
your responsibility: you are not the gardener himself; you are only one
of the gardener's boys, set to run on errands, or to do a bit of
digging, or to sweep the paths. The garden is well enough managed even
though you are not head manager in it.

While this relieves us of anxiety it makes labor for Christ very sweet,
because if the garden does not seem to repay us for our trouble we say
to ourselves, "It is not, my garden after all. Supposing him to be the
gardener,' I am quite willing to work on a barren piece of rock, or tie
up an old withered bough, or dig a worthless sod; for, if it only
pleases Jesus, the work is for that one sole reason profitable to the
last degree. It is not mine to question the wisdom of my task, but to
set about it in the name of my Master and Lord. Supposing him to be the
gardener,' lifts the ponderous responsibility of it from me, and my
work becomes pleasant and delightful."

In dealing with the souls of men, we meet with cases which are
extremely difficult. Some persons are so timid and fearful that you do
not know how to comfort them; others are so fast and presumptuous that
you hardly know how to help them. A few are so double-faced that you
cannot understand them, and others so fickle that you cannot hold them.
Some flowers puzzle the ordinary gardener: we meet with plants which
are covered with prickles, and when you try to train them they wound
the hand that would help them. These strange growths would make a great
muddle for you if you were the gardener; but "supposing him to be the
gardener," you have the happiness of being able to go to him
constantly, saying, "Good Lord, I do not understand this singular
creature; it is as odd a plant as I am myself. Oh, that thou wouldest
manage it, or tell me how. I have come to tell thee of it."

Constantly our trouble is that we have so many plants to look after
that we have not time to cultivate any one in the best manner, because
we have fifty more all wanting attention at the time; and then before
we have done with the watering-pot we have to fetch the hoe and the
rake and the spade, and we are puzzled with these multitudinous cares,
even as Paul was when he said, "That which cometh upon me daily, the
care of all the churches." Ah, then, it is a blessed thing to do the
little we can do and leave the rest to Jesus, "supposing him to be the
gardener."

In the church of God there is a discipline which we cannot exercise. I
do not think it is half so hard to exercise discipline as it is not to
be able to exercise it when yet you feel that it ought to be done. The
servants of the householder were perplexed when they might not root up
the tares. "Didst thou not sow good seed in thy field? From whence then
hath it tares?" "An enemy hath done this." "Wilt thou then that we go
and gather them up?" "Not so," said he, "lest ye root, up the wheat
with them." This afflicts the Christian minister when he must not
remove a pestilent, hindering weed. Yes, but "supposing him to be the
gardener," and it is his will to let that weed remain, what have you
and I to do but to hold our peace? He has a discipline more sure and
safe than ours, and in due time the tares shall know it. In patience
let us possess our souls.

And then, again, there is that succession in the garden which we can
not keep up. Plants will die down, and others must be put into their
places or the garden will grow bare, but we know not where to find
these fresh flowers. We say, "When yonder good man dies who will
succeed him?" That is a question I have heard many a time, till I am
rather weary of it. Who is to follow such a man? Let us wait till he is
gone and needs following. Why sell the man's coat when he can wear it
himself? We are apt to think when this race of good brethren shalt die
of it that none will arise worthy to unloose the latchets of their
shoes. Well, friend, I could suppose a great many things, but this
morning my text is, "Supposing him to be the gardener," and on that
supposition I expect that the Lord has other plants in reserve which
you have not yet, seen, and these wilt exactly fit into our places when
they become empty, and the Lord will keep up the true apostolical
succession till the day or his second advent. In every time of darkness
and dismay, when the heart sinks and the spirits decline, and we think
it is all over with the church of God, let us fall back on this,
"Supposing him to be the gardener," and expect to see greater and
better things than these. We are at the end of our wits, but he is not
at the beginning of his yet: we are nonplussed, but he never will be;
therefore let us wait and be tranquil, "supposing him to be the
gardener."

IV. Fourthly, I want you to notice that this supposition will give you
A DELIVERANCE FROM MANY GLOOMY FEARS. I walked down the garden, and I
saw a place where all the path was strewn with leaves and broken
branches, and stones, and I saw the earth upon the flower-beds, tossed
about, and roots lying quite out of the ground: all was in disorder.
Had a dog been amusing himself? or had a mischievous child been at
work? If so, it was a great pity. But no: in a minute or two I saw the
gardener come back, and I perceived that he had been making all this
disarrangement. He had been cutting, and digging, and hacking, and
mess-making; and all for the good of the garden. It may be it has
happened to some of you that you have been a good deal clipped lately,
and in your domestic affairs things have not been in so fair a state as
you could have wished: it may be in the Church we have seen ill weeds
plucked up, and barren branches lopped, so that everything is en
deshabille. Well, if the Lord has done it out, gloomy fears are idle.
"Supposing him to he the gardener," all is well.

As I was talking this over with my friend, I said to him–"Supposing
him to be the gardener," then the serpent will have a bad time of it.
Supposing Adam to be the gardener, then the serpent gets in and has a
chat with his wife, and mischief comes of it; but supposing Jesus to be
the gardener, woe to thee, serpent: there is a blow for thy head within
half a minute if thou dost but show thyself within the boundary. So, if
we are afraid that the devil should get in among us let us always in
prayer entreat that there may be no space for the devil, because the
Lord Jesus Christ fills all, and keeps out the adversary. Other
creatures besides serpents intrude into gardens; caterpillars and
palmerworms, and all sorts of destroying creatures are apt to devour
our churches. How can we keep them out? The highest wall cannot exclude
them: there is no protection except one, and that is, "supposing him to
be the gardener." Thus it is written, "I will rebuke the devourer for
your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground; neither
shall your vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, saith the
Lord of hosts."

I am sometimes troubled by the question, What if roots of bitterness
should spring up among us to trouble us? We are all such fallible
creatures, supposing some brother should permit the seed of discord to
grow in his bosom, then there may be a sister in whose heart the seeds
will also spring up, and from her they will fly to another sister, and
be blown about till brethren and sisters are all bearing rue and
wormwood in their hearts. Who is to prevent this? Only the Lord, Jesus
by his Spirit. He can keep out this evil, "supposing him to be the
gardener." The root which beareth wormwood will grow but little where
Jesus is. Dwell with us, Lord, as a church and people: by thy Holy
Spirit reside with us and in us, and never depart from us, and then no
root of bitterness shall spring up to trouble us.

Then comes another fear. Suppose the living waters of God's Spirit
should not come to water the garden, what then? We cannot, make them
flow, for the Spirit is a sovereign, and he flows where he pleases. Ah,
but the Spirit of God will he in our garden, "supposing our Lord to be
the gardener." There is no fear of our not being watered when Jesus
undertakes to do it. "He will pour water on him that is thirsty, and
floods upon the dry ground." But what if the sunlight of his love
should not shine on the garden? If the fruits should never ripen, if
there should be no peace, no joy in the Lord? That cannot happen
"supposing him to be the gardener;" for his face is the sun, and his
countenance scatters those health-giving beams, and nurturing warmths,
and perfecting influences which are needful for maturing the saints in
all the sweetness of grace to the glory of God. So, "supposing him to
be the gardener" at this the close of the year, I fling away my doubts
and fears, and invite you who bear the church upon your heart to do the
same. It is all well with Christ's cause because it is in his own
hands. He shall not fail nor be discouraged. The pleasure of the, Lord
shall prosper in his hands.

V. Fifthly, here is A WARNING FOR THE CARELESS, "supposing him to be
the gardener." In this great congregation many are to the church what
weeds are to a garden. They are not planted by God; they are not
growing under his nurture, they are bringing forth no fruit to his
glory. My dear friend, I have tried often to get at you, to impress
you, but I cannot. Take heed; for one of these days, "supposing him to
be the gardener," he will reach you, and you shall know what that word
meaneth, "Every plant which my heavenly Father hath, not planted shall
be rooted up." Take heed to yourselves, I pray.

Others among us are like the branches of the vine which bear no fruit.
We have often spoken very sharply to these, speaking honest truth in
unmistakable language, and yet we have not touched their consciences.
Ah, but "supposing him to be the gardener," he will fulfill that
sentence: "Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away."
He will get at you, if we cannot. Would God, ere this old year were
quite dead, you would turn unto the Lord with full purpose of heart; so
that instead of being a weed you might become a choice flower; that
instead of a dry stick, you might be a sappy, fruit-bearing, branch of
the vine. The Lord make it to be so; but if any here need the caution,
I pray them to take it to heart at once. "Supposing him to be the
gardener," there will be no escaping from his eye; there will be no
deliverance from his hand. As "he will thoroughly purge his floor, and
burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire," so he will thoroughly
cleanse his garden and cast out every worthless thing.

VI. Another set of thoughts may well arise as A QUIETUS TO THOSE WHO
COMPLAIN, "Supposing him to be the gardener." Certain of us have been
made to suffer much physical pain, which often bites into the spirits,
and makes the heart to stoop: others have suffered heavy temporal
losses, having had no success in business, but, on the contrary, having
had to endure privation, perhaps even to penury. Are you ready to
complain against the Lord for all this? I pray you, do not so. Take the
supposition of the text into your mind this morning. The Lord has been
pruning you sharply, cutting off your best boughs, and you seem to be
like a thing despised that is constantly tormented with the knife. Yes,
but "supposing him to be the gardener," suppose that your loving Lord
has wrought it all, that from his own hand all your grief has come,
every cut, and every gash, and every slip: does not this alter the
case? Hath not the Lord done it? Well, then, if it be so, put your
finger to your lip and be quiet, until you are able from your heart to
say, "The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the
name of the Lord." I am persuaded that the Lord hath done nothing amiss
to any one of his people; that no child of his can rightly complain
that he has been whipped with too much severity; and that no one branch
of the vine can truthfully declare that it has been pruned with too
sharp an edge. No; what the Lord has done is the best that could have
been done, the very thing that you and I, if we could have possessed
infinite wisdom and love, would have wished to have done; therefore let
us stop each thought of murmuring, and say, "The Lord hath done it,"
and be glad.

Especially I speak to those who have suffered bereavement. I can hardly
express to you how strange I feel at this moment when my sermon revives
a memory so sweet dashed with such exceeding bitterness. I sat with my
friend and secretary in that garden some fifteen days ago, and we were
then in perfect health, rejoicing in the goodness of the Lord. We
returned home, and within five days I was smitten with disabling pain;
and worse, far worse than that, he was called upon to lose his wife. We
said to one another as we sat there reading the word of God and
meditating, "How happy we are! Dare we think of being so happy? Must it
not speedily end?" I little thought I should have to say for him,
"Alas, my brother, thou art brought very low, for the delight of thine
eyes is taken from thee." But here is our comfort: the Lord hath done
it. The best rose in the garden is gone. Who has taken it? The gardener
came this way and gathered it. He planted it and watched over it, and
now he has taken it. Is not this most natural? Does anybody weep
because of that? No; everybody knows that it is right, and according to
the order of nature that he should come and gather the best in the
garden. If you are sore troubled by the loss of your beloved, yet dry
your grief by supposing him to be the gardener." Kiss the hand that has
wrought you such grief? Brethren beloved, remember the next time the
Lord comes to your part of the garden, and he may do so within the next
week, he will only gather his own flowers, and would you prevent his
doing so even if you could?

VII. "Supposing him to be the gardener," then there is AN OUTLOOK FOR
THE HOPEFUL. "Supposing him to be the gardener," then I expect to see
in the garden where he works the best possible prosperity: I expect to
see no flower dried up, no tree without fruit: I expect to see the
richest, rarest fruit, with the daintiest bloom upon it, daily
presented to the great Owner of the garden. Let us expect that in this
church, and pray for it. oh, if we have but faith we shall see great
things. It is our unbelief that straitens God. Let us believe great
things from the work of Christ by his Spirit in the midst of his
people's hearts, and we shall not be disappointed.

"Supposing him to be the gardener," then, dear friends, we may expect
divine intercourse of unspeakable preciousness. Go back to Eden for a
minute. When Adam was the gardener, what happened? The Lord God walked
in the garden in the cool of the day. But "supposing him to be the
gardener," then we shall have the Lord God dwelling among us, and
revealing himself in all the glory of his power, and the plenitude or
his Fatherly heart; making us to know him, that we may be filled with
all the fullness of God. What joy is this!

One other thought. "Supposing him to be the gardener," and God to come
and walk among the trees of the garden, then I expect he will remove
the whole of the garden upward with himself to fairer skies; for he
rose, and his people must rise with him. I expect a blessed
transplantation of all these flowers below to a clearer atmosphere
above, away from all this smoke and fog and damp, up where the sun is
never clouded, where flowers never wither, where fruits never decay.
Oh, the glory we shall then enjoy up yonder, on the hills of spices in
the garden of God. "Supposing him to be the gardener" what a garden
will he form above, and how shall you and I grow therein, developing
beyond imagination." It doth not yet appear what we shall be, but we
know that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see
him as he is." Since he is the author and finisher or our faith, to
what perfection will he conduct us, and to what glory will he bring us!
Oh, to be found in him! God grant we may be! To be plants in his
garden, "Supposing him to be the gardener," is all the heaven we can
desire.

By C. H. Spurgeon

The Gospel for the People.

Sixty Short Sermons, with a Skech of Mr. Spurgeon's Life, and

Fourteen Portraits and Engravings, with a Preface by Pastor Thomas

Spurgeon. Cloth Gilt, 5s.

These Short Sermons have been selected from the Series with a view to

their being used in Mission Halls, and other similar places. They

are about half the length of the ordinary Sermons.

PASSMORE & ALABASTER, 4, Paternoster Buildings, London, E.C.