home > books by FWB > 1945, A Late Lark Singing > A Floral Tribute

Chapter III

A Floral Tribute

There is one miracle that should captivate the heart of every minister who is seeking an appropriate theme for spring-time. It is the only floral miracle in the Bible. Behold the rod of Aaron brought forth buds and bloomed blossoms and yielded almonds. Neither the primrose in the English lanes nor the wattle in our Australian bush arc as eloquent of the magic of spring as is the almond in the East. It is the first indication of the departure of winter. Its very name means ‘to awaken early’. Moses laid in the Tabernacle a barren wintry rod. In the morning it flamed with the beauty of spring, with the glory of summer and with the rich fruition of autumn. 

The selection of almond blossoms at the consecration of Aaron hinted at a renaissance, a revival, a new and better age. It was a floral tribute, offered by divine hands, to the inner significance and perennial value, not only of the Aaronic priesthood, but of the Christian ministry of all time. For whilst it suggests that the minister is nothing, and less than nothing, except so far as through him, as through Aaron’s dry rod, the divine grace and power are poured, it also suggests that there is that in the minister, as in Aaron’s almond rod, which, divinely awakened and energized, will bring new life and new beauty to an arid and dying world. 

The very fact that a miracle was deemed necessary sets a seal of historic importance upon the notable occasion. Few things in the Scriptures are more striking than the amazing frugality which they exhibit in the use of supernatural power. As far as I can see, the miracles mentioned in the Bible average about one to each century recorded: indeed, I find one period of four hundred years with no miracle at all. When, therefore, we come upon one of these rarities— invariably introduced to set the seal of divine authority on a new leader, a new institution or a new system — the wonder is all the more arresting and all the more impressive. 

Moses placed the twelve rods, each representative of one of the houses of Israel, in the Tabernacle; and, when he returned next day to inspect them, eleven of them were exactly as they were before; but the rod of Aaron had brought forth buds and bloomed blossoms and yielded almonds! 

I fancy that I have myself witnessed something very similar. Like these twelve rods placed side by side in the Tabernacle, twelve people have come up to the house of the Lord. They have stood together for the singing of the hymns; they have bowed together for the prayers; they have listened together to the sermon. And then, together, they leave the sanctuary. Eleven of them are frankly unimpressed. They are glad they came; they felt that it was the correct thing to do; but their hearts have not been stirred. On the way home they mention casually that the sermon was rather long, that the choir was a trifle below its usual level, or that there was a nasty draught. Otherwise, they neither criticize nor rhapsodize. Like the eleven rods, they are exactly as they were; no better, no worse! 

But the twelfth! He leaves the house of the Lord with a shining face. To him this has been the very gate of heaven. The hymns seemed to him the natural articulation of his own glad and grateful heart, and he sang them with all his soul. The prayers seemed to him the exact expression of his own deep need, and he added a silent Amen to every sentence. And the sermon! It was as if the angels had whispered into the ear of the preacher a narrative of his own circumstances and conditions, his own struggles and temptations. Every word appeared specially designed for his comfort and encouragement. What a benediction the service had proved! The grim ghosts of yesterday had been laid! The dread of to-morrow had vanished! The crooked had been made straight and the rough places plain. Heaven had come down his soul to greet; glory had crowned the mercy seat. The ancient transformation had been re-enacted; bis rod had brought forth buds and bloomed blossoms and yielded almonds. 

Or, like these twelve rods placed side by side in the Tabernacle, twelve theological students enter college on the very selfsame day. They come under the influence of the same tutors and professors; they apply themselves to the same curriculum; they are subject to the same discipline. And then, at just about the same time, they bid farewell to their Alma Mater, are ordained, and take charge of the congregations to which, one by one, they are called. Eleven of them exercise very useful and very instructive ministries, but in most respects they are pretty much as they were when they entered college. The rod has been carved and polished, that is all. But the twelfth! His very soul is aflame! A passion for the souls of men burns in his eyes; there is a wooing and a warning note in the accents of his voice; to him to live is Christ. The loveliness of his life commends to his people the evangel that he so earnestly preaches. It is the old story over again; his rod brings forth buds and blooms blossoms and yields almonds. 

And why? Why, on the return of Moses to the Tabernacle, is the rod of Aaron such a colourful picture as compared with all the other rods? Why does that one worshipper leave the sanctuary with the light of heaven in his face? Why is the ministry of that one preacher so magnetic and so convincing and so effective? There is but one explanation. When the twelve rods were placed together in the Tabernacle, God must have seen in Aaron something that He could not see in any of the other princes of Israel. God must have seen in that one worshipper a penitence, a hunger, an expectancy that was absent from the hearts of the other eleven. God must have seen in that one young minister a lowliness, a consecration, a spiritual sensitiveness that was less marked in his companions. And so He transfigured with His heavenly magic the rod of Aaron; He flooded with a sense of His presence and grace the soul of that one eager worshipper; and He crowned with the abundance of His Spirit the ministry of that man who clave so closely to Himself. 

God always finds some way of indicating His will concerning the destinies of men, He may not always give the Sign of the Fleece as He did to Gideon, or the Sign of the Flowers as He did to Aaron, or the Sign of the Food as He did to Peter in his approach to the house of Cornelius; but by some sign, suited to the seeker and his special circumstances, God will find a means of directing those who earnestly desire His guidance. Some pillar of cloud will precede them in the daytime; some pillar of fire will blaze on their horizon in the night. To those who are willing to follow the gleam, there will always come a Kindly Light to lead. 

In Church affairs, in business affairs, in love affairs, in all affairs, such leadership is sure. Indeed, the medieval writers seemed to think that the principle applied particularly to the romantic entanglements of young people. On the authority of an apocryphal tradition, they tore this story of Aaron’s rod from its original setting and gave it a new and more tender turn. They declared that when the time came for the betrothal of Mary, destined to be the mother of Jesus, many attractive suitors sought her hand, Joseph, the carpenter of Nazareth, among the number. Instinctively feeling that the matter needed more than human wisdom, Zacharias the priest asked each youth for his staff. Having collected them, he placed them side by side in the Temple, just as Moses did the rods of the princes. And, when he returned next day to examine them, the staff of Joseph had burst into buds and blossoms! And those who have visited the Brera Gallery at Milan will remember that Raphael has made the legend the theme of one of his most famous paintings. In his picture, Mary and Joseph are standing together by the Temple gate; Joseph is placing the ring on Mary’s finger: whilst, behind them, 

If anyone should be tempted to suspect that I am making too much of this Old Testament story of the flowering rod, let him reflect upon the impressive circumstance that, by divine ordinance, that rod was perpetually preserved amidst the awful silences of the Holy of Holies, For there, in the immediate dwelling-place of the Most High, stood the Ark of the Covenant over which the cherubims of glory spread their wings. And within that Ark of gold there were kept three sacred symbols of Israel’s pilgrimage – the Tables of Stone on which the Ten Commandments were inscribed, the Golden Pot that held the Manna, and Aaron’s Rod that budded. 

These three solemn souvenirs represented the three outstanding factors in the history of the wandering hosts. The Tables of Stone, bearing the divinely dictated Commandments, represented the Legislation of the People; the Golden Pot of Manna, containing the divinely dispensed sustenance, represented the Food of the People; and Aaron’s Rod, the divinely chosen symbol of approved authority, represented the Leadership of the People. Law, Food, Leadership! What controversies have raged round those three words! That is why these three tokens are preserved in the Holiest of All. They must be saturated in the spirit of the sanctuary. The people who, in framing their legislation, recognize the basic mandates of the Most High; the people who, for the prosperity of their fields and their flocks, realize their utter dependence upon Him; the people who look to Him for leaders and for leadership; that people will always enjoy the benediction of heaven and the abundance of the fruits of the earth. 

Look just once more at these twelve rods as Moses deposits them, one by one, in the Tabernacle of Witness! How can it be proved, by means of these rods, that Aaron is the divinely ordained Priest of Jehovah? And then, having marked the rods as they appeared overnight, look at them again as Moses finds them in the morning! Eleven of the rods remain bare and lifeless. But Aaron’s has budded and bloomed blossoms and yielded almonds! 

It has budded-it lives!
It has bloomed-it is clothed in beauty!
It yields almonds-it is covered with fruit! 

Life, beauty, fertility! These are the manifestations of the divine presence and pleasure.’ How can the Church vindicate to the world her mission among men) How can she justify her expenditure of time and energy and money on her sanctuaries, her ministries, her music, her ordinances, her organizations and her far-flung activities? She can never hope to convince men by means of the cogency of her creeds, the elegance of her ritual or the eloquence of her pulpits. She can only win for herself the confidence and the affection of men by these three means; she must vindicate herself, like Aaron’s rod, by her vitality, her beauty, her fertility. 

Tell the world that you are a Christian and the world will give a knowing smile. It has heard that story before. It may be true this time, or it may not. The onus of proof rests on you. How can your exalted claim be substantiated? In exactly the same way as in the case of Aaron. Let your life be exposed, like Aaron’s rod, to those miraculous and transfiguring influences associated with the house of God. Dwell in the secret place of the Most High and abide under the shadow of the Almighty! Drench your spirit in the palpitating consciousness of the Presence! Then let an astonished world behold the resultant change! 

Life! The dead rod has budded! That is precisely the wonder of which Paul writes. I am crucified with Christ, he says, nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me; and the life that I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me! 

Beauty! The lifeless rod bloomed blossoms! There is no proof so convincing as a life marked by sweetness and strength, by winsomeness and grace, by the loveliness of selfless devotion and of gracious deeds. 

Fruitfulness! The bare rod yielded almonds! That is exactly what Jesus emphasized in the parable that He unfolded to His disciples under the very shadow of the Cross. ‘I have chosen you and ordained you’, He said, ‘that ye should go and bring forth fruit and that your fruit should remain. The branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine. I am theVine; abide in Me!’

Lift, beauty, fertility; these constitute the faith’s unanswerable argument. He was a padre bending over a dying soldier. ‘Let me read a few words to you!’ he said, taking out his pocket Testament. ‘Oh, I’m thirsty!’ complained the soldier, and the chaplain rose and brought him water. ‘Now may I read?’ asked the padre. ‘No,’ replied the soldier, ‘I’m cold!’ The chaplain took off his own coat and wrapped it round the man. ‘I’ll read a word or two now!’ said the minister. I’m too tired!’ moaned the man. ‘Well,’ answered the padre, ‘pillow your head on my lap and try to get some sleep! The man closed his eyes and lay still for awhile; but he soon opened them again. ‘Look here, padre,’ he exclaimed, ‘if there’s anything in that book of yours that will make one man behave towards another as you’ve behaved towards me, for God’s sake read it!’ 

In the chaplain’s patience and sympathy and devotion, the dying man had caught a glimpse of the buds and the blossoms and the almonds; and, convinced by that argument, his heart was won.

-F.W. Boreham