Wilt Thou break a leaf driven to and fro?
A pitiful plea
Poor Job! Who could have been brought lower? In his deep distress he turns to God, and finding no other plea so near at hand he makes a plea of his own distress. He compares himself to the weakest thing he could think of. He draws an argument out of his weakness. It is a common figure he uses, that of a leaf driven to and fro. To this Job likens himself--a helpless, hopeless, worthless, weak, despised, perishing thing. And he appeals to God. “Out of pity upon my utter weakness and nothingness, turn away Thy hand, and break not a leaf that is driven to and fro.” The apprehension is so startling, the appeal is so forcible, that the argument may be employed in a great many ways. How often have the sick used it, when they have been brought to so low an ebb with physical pain that life itself seemed worthless. Not less applicable the plea to those who are plunged into the depths of poverty. So too with those who are in trouble through bereavement. Perhaps it is even more harassing in eases of mental distress, for, after all, the sharpest pangs we feel are not those of the body, nor those of the estate, but those of the mind. When the iron enters into the soul, the rust thereof is poison. Many a child of God may have used this plea, or may yet use it.
I. The plea is such as arises from inward consciousness. What plea is more powerful to ourselves than that which we draw from ourselves? In this case Job was quite certain about his own weakness. How could he doubt that? I trust many of us have been brought into such a humble frame of mind as to feel that, in a certain sense, this is true of us. What a great blessing it is to be made to know our weakness! But while it is a confession of weakness, the plea is also an acknowledgment of God’s power to push that weakness to a direful conclusion.
II. This is also a very pitiful plea. Though there is weakness, yet there is also power, for weakness is, for the most part, a prevalent plea with those who are strong and good. The plea gathers force when the weakness is confessed. How a confession of weakness touches your heart when it comes from your child!
III. This plea is rightly addressed. It is addressed to God. It can be used to each person of the Blessed Trinity in Unity. “Oh, the depths of Thy loving kindness! Is it possible that Thou canst east away a poor, broken-hearted trembler, a poor, fearing, doubting one, who would fain be saved, but who trembles lest he should be cast away?”
IV. The plea is backed up by many cases of success. Give one illustration. The case of Hannah, the mother of Samuel; or the case of King Manasseh. Or our Lord’s dealing with sinful women.
V. The text is a faint plea which invites full succour. It meant this. “Instead of breaking it, Thou wilt spare it; Thou wilt gather it up; Thou wilt give it life again.” Oh, you who are brought to the very lowest of weakness! use that weakness in pleading with God, and He will return unto you with such a fulness of blessing that you shall receive pardon and favour.
VI. We may use this plea--many of us who have long known the saviour. Perhaps our faith has got to be very low. O Lord, wilt Thou destroy my little faith? It is weal: and trembling, but it is faith of Thine own giving. Oh, break not the poor leaf that is driven to and fro! It may be your hope is not very bright. You cannot see the golden gates, though they are very near. Well, but your hope shall not be destroyed because it is clouded. Perhaps you are conscious that you have not been so useful lately as you were. Bring your little graces to Christ, as the mothers brought their little children, and ask Him to put His hands upon them and to bless them. Bring your mustard seed to Christ, and ask Him to make it grow into a tree, and He will do it; but never think that He will destroy you, or that He will destroy the work of His hands in you. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
God and human frailty
The thin, frail leaf--would God break that? God, the all-powerful, dealing with the feeble life of Job! God, perhaps, would bruise the leaf, but He would not break it.
I. A leaf is the frailest among frail things. A leaf is, in many ways, a type of man. Physically, mentally, humanly, morally. We have come into this world with constitutions tainted by sin, surrounded by temptations to evil.
II. A leaf is the fittest emblem of man’s mortality. Will the eternal God act harshly with the ephemeral man? What is it to “break a leaf”? To treat it as a thing of insignificance, to leave it to the sport of circumstances, to let it be hurried out of sight as a mean and mortal thing. How delicate is man, physically considered; how surrounded is he by the majestic forces of nature! Yet God has plainly said, “I care for this leaf more than for all the works of My hands.” Mortal though man is, he enshrines within him an everlasting being.
III. A leaf is subject to a variety of dangers. Blight may settle on it; the tornado might tear it from the parent stem; the rain and the dew may be withheld; the scorching sun may wither; the birds of the heaven may devour it. We look at man, and we say, How subject is he to manifold forms of danger!
1. The hand of trial might break us. The difference between what we can bear and what we cannot may be a very slight degree. God will not lay upon us more than we are able to bear.
2. The hand of temptation may break us. Our reserves are soon used up. There is a kind of omnipresence of temptation. Yet no temptation hath overtaken us, but such as we are able to bear. The resisting power has been given us.
3. The hand of transition might break us. The leaf has to endure the most sudden and severe changes of temperature; but these minister to its strength and life. Think of the changes of human life--from affluence to poverty, from companionship to solitude, from one estate to another. Then comes the great change. But all the changes of our life are ordered by God, and leave us sometimes saddened, but not broken or destroyed.
IV. A leaf is the wonderful work of God. And a most wonderful work it is. And God made man. From the first His care has been for His lost child, His voice has been to the sons of men, and the great atonement has been a sacrifice for the world. We believe in God’s care for every leaf in the great forest of humanity.
V. A leaf is often broken by man. God’s tender mercies are over all His works. He will not break a leaf. Man will. There are those who come near the secrets of human lives, and could write interesting volumes, if they dared, on broken human leaves. Close with reflections--
1. Think of the strength of God.
2. Think of the possibilities of life.
3. Think of the position we occupy.
4. Think of the end that is coming. (W. M. Statham.)
A picture and a problem of life
I. A picture of life. It is a “leaf driven to and fro.” The words suggest four ideas.
1. Insignificance. “A leaf,” not a tree.
2. Frailty. “A leaf.” How fragile. The tree strikes its roots into the earth and often grows on for many years. But the leaf is only for a season. From spring to autumn is the period that measures its longest duration.
3. Restlessness. “Driven to and fro.” How unsettled is human life! Man is never at rest.
4. Worthlessness. A leaf that has fallen from the stem and tossed by the winds is a worthless thing. On its stem it was a thing of beauty and a thing of service to the tree, but now its value is gone. Job felt that his life was worthless, as worthless as a withered leaf and “dry stubble.”
II. A problem of life. “Wilt Thou break a leaf driven to and fro?” This question may be looked upon in two aspects.
1. As expressing error in sentiment. The idea in the mind of Job seems to have been that God was infinitely too great to notice such a creature as he, that it was unworthy of the Infinite to pay any attention whatever to a creature so insignificant and worthless. Two thoughts expose this error.
(1) To God there is nothing great or small.
(2) Man, however worthless, is infinitely influential.
2. As capable of receiving a glorious answer. “Wilt Thou break a leaf driven to and fro?” Wilt Thou torment me forever? Writ Thou quench my existence? Take this as the question of suffering humanity, and here is the answer, “The Son of Man has come to seek and to save the lost.” “I have come that ye might have life, and that ye might have it more abundantly.” (Homilist.)