Fading As The Leaf

Isaiah 64:6

INTRO:

Good evening. As we have been studying in I Thessalonians we noticed that Paul goes to great lengths to articulate about sexual purity in a Christian congregation; We found that the Thessalonians had only newly come into the Christian faith and they had come from a society in which chastity was an unknown virtue; they were still in the midst of that society and the infection of it was playing upon them all the time. It would be difficult for them to unlearn what they had, for all their lives, accepted as natural. It was a place where marriage vows were disregarded and divorce extremely easy.

In contrast to this when Peter preached the first sermon on Pentecost he preached to an entirely different sort of audience. For the Jews of Peter’s audience marriage was theoretically held in the highest esteem. It was said that a Jew must die rather than commit murder, idolatry or adultery. In addition the Jews already believed in one God, not the many gods of Paul’s audience. They understood God as the Creator, they knew what sin was, knew how death came into this world, and understood the principal of sacrifice because of sin. Paul’s audience did not have those concepts so the message that Paul preached must of necessity be far different from Peter’s and no doubt took longer.

Paul tells of this necessity of adjusting ones approach in I Corinthians 9 where he says: “... I have become all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.
Now this I do for the gospel's sake...” Paul preached to his audience.

Thinking on this and having heard David’s lessons in our Gospel meeting, made me wonder just how the language we use to deliver God’s word has changed even for us. Some of you know this and some may not, but “Tom” is my nickname. My first and middle name are “DeWitt Talmadge”. I know from family anecdotes that I was named after a gospel preacher, DeWitt Talmadge, in much the same way as many people are named after others who for some reason have been admired by the parents. In the past this was a common practice. Some who have been named this way have their own prominence for example George Washington Carver. Most of course do not.

I wondered, how do sermons differ today from those taught by the person who inspired the name I now carry, DeWitt Talmage, just over 100 or so years back? Certainly there will be some differences. The DeWitt Talmage I was named for was a preacher in the Reformed Church in America and the Presbyterian Church. He was a prominent religious leader, the Billy Graham of his day, during the mid- to late -19th century and was often involved in crusades against vice and crime. Wikipedia tells me that “Attending Talmage's sermons became one of the most popular religious experiences of the era. In 1870, the congregation built a tabernacle solely to accommodate the large crowds who attended his church services. The building was built over an old church structure then being used as a Sunday School. The demand for his sermons helped with the raising of funds, and construction was completed in only three months. Although the tabernacle had been built to seat large crowds, seating was free of charge and hundreds were turned away every Sunday. Now even in his day there were other people with that same name so of the name’s origin I can not say.

For our lesson tonight I thought it might be interesting for me to take one of the sermons he delivered and with as few alterations as possible bring it to you this evening. The sermon I selected is one titled “Fading as a Leaf”.

Our text for tonight is from the book of Isaiah 64:6. In this chapter Isaiah is appealing to God for the deliverance of His people from Babylon. Isaiah is praying to God in verses 1-4 for a great salvation such as accompanied the Exodus from Egypt.

I have heard from time to time that it seems like the Old Testament is full of repeats. It is as if people never learn. Perhaps that is true. It is so hard for us to understand religious truth that God constantly reiterates. As the teacher takes a blackboard, and puts upon it figures and diagrams, so that the students may not only get their lesson through the ear, but also through the eye. In like manner God takes all the truths of his Bible, and draws them out in diagram on the natural world.

In the 1800s, Jean-Francois Champollion went into Egypt to study the hieroglyphics on monuments and temples. After much labor he deciphered them, and announced to the learned world the result of his investigations.

I have heard it expressed that the wisdom, goodness, and power of God are written in hieroglyphics all over the earth and all over the heavens. God grant that we may have understanding enough to decipher them! There are scriptural passages, like our text, which need to be studied in the presence of the natural world. An example is found in Habakkuk 3:19 – “19 The LORD God [is] my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' [feet], and he will make me to walk upon mine high places... ”

Habakkuk says," Thou makest my feet like hind’s feet;" a passage which means nothing save to the man that knows that the feet of the red deer, or hind, are peculiarly constructed, so that they can walk among slippery rocks without falling. Knowing that fact, we understand, when Habakkuk says "Thou makest my feet like hind’s feet," he is saying that the child of God can walk amid the most dangerous and slippery places without falling.

In Lamentations 4:3 we read “Even the sea monsters draw out the breast, they give suck to their young ones: the daughter of my people is become cruel, like the ostriches in the wilderness.” That part, "The daughter of my people is become cruel, like the ostriches of the wilderness;" seems a passage that has no meaning save to the person who knows that the ostrich often leaves its egg in the sand to be hatched out by the sun, and that the young ostrich goes forth unattended by any maternal care. Knowing this, the passage is significant— "The daughter of my people is cruel, like the ostriches of the wilderness."

There are those who know but little of the meaning of the natural world, who have looked at it through the eyes of others, and from book or canvas they have received their impression. The face of Nature has such a flush, and sparkle, and life, that no human description can gather them and present them to be known. No one knows the pathos of a bird’s voice unless he has sat in the summer evening at the edge of a wood, and listened to the cry of the whippoorwill. Perhaps you have experienced this yourself. When seeing some wonder of nature, a roaring waterfall perhaps, or mountain covered with flowers and seeing this taken a snapshot to share with family and friends. Then when showing them, in your mind you can relive the experience yet those viewing the snapshot really only have a two-dimensional experience.

When walking in the fall of the year I find there is more glory in one branch of sumac than a painter could put on a whole forest of maples. God has struck into the autumnal leaf a glance that none see but those who come face to face—the mountain looking upon the man, and the man looking upon the mountain.

I recall many years back visiting the parks of the eastern US, and one autumn, I saw scenes which I shall never forget. I have seen the autumnal sketches and photographs by many skillful people, but on that trip I saw a pageant that seemed a thousand miles long. Let artists stand back when God stretches his canvas! A grander spectacle was never kindled before mortal eyes. Along by the rivers, and up and down the sides of the great hills, and by the banks of the lakes, there was an indescribable mingling of gold, and orange, and crimson, and saffron, now sobering into drab and maroon, now flaming up into scarlet. Here and there the trees looked as if just their tips had blossomed into fire. In the morning light the forests seemed as if they had been transfigured, and in the evening they looked as if the sunset had burst and dropped upon the leaves. In more sequestered spots, where the frosts had been hindered in their work, we saw the first kindling of the flames of color in a lowly sprig; then they rushed up from branch to branch, until the glory of the Lord submerged the forest.

Here and there you would find a tree just making up its mind to change, and others were a mass of color. Along the banks of Lake Huron, there were hills over which there seemed pouring cataracts of fire, tossed up, and down. Through some of the ravines we saw occasionally a foaming stream, as though it were rushing to put out the flames. If at one end of the woods a commanding tree would set up its crimson banner, the whole forest prepared to follow. If God’s pallet of colors were not infinite, one swamp that I saw along the Maumee would have exhausted it forever. It seemed as if the sea of divine beauty had dashed its surf to the tiptop of the Alleghenies, and then it had flowed down to lowest leaf and deepest cavern.

The wonder of the natural world that God has provided us is something each one of us should take the opportunity at some point our life to experience, and explore. There are lessons and illuminations for lessons there for us.

Let us read the text then. Isaiah 64:6 - “6 But we are all as an unclean [thing], and all our righteousnesses [are] as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.” I would imagine that most people reading this text find only in it—a vein of sadness. I find that I have two things that sing out to me—one of sadness, and one of infinite joy. "We all do fade as a leaf."

I. First. Like the foliage, we too fade gradually. The leaves which, only recently, felt the frost, have, day by day, been changing in tint, and will for many days yet cling to the branch, waiting for the fist of the winds to strike them. Pluck one of these glorious leaves and hold it in your hand. Do you suppose that leaf you are holding took on its color in an hour, or in a day, or in a week? No. Deeper and deeper the flush, till all the veins of its life now seem opened and bleeding away. After a while, leaf after leaf, they fall. Now those on the outer branches, then those most hidden, until the last spark of the gleaming forge shall have been quenched.
A. So gradually we pass away. From day to day we hardly see the change. But the frosts have touched us. The work of decay is going on. Now a slight cold. Now a season of over-fatigue. Now a fever. Now a stitch in the side. Now a neuralgic thrust. Now a rheumatic twinge. Now a fall and little by little. Pain by pain. Less steady of limb. Sight not so clear. Ear not so alert. After a while we take a cane.
B. Then, after much resistance, we come to accept glasses. Instead of bounding into the vehicle, we are willing to be helped in. At last the octogenarian falls. Forty years of decaying. No sudden change. No fierce explosion; but a fading away—slowly—gradually. As the leaf!
II. Again: like the leaf we fade, to make room for others. Next year’s forests will be as grandly foliaged as this year’s. There are other generations of oak leaves to take the place of those which this autumn perish. Next May the cradle of the wind will rock the young buds. The woods will be all a-hum with the chorus of new rustling leafy voices.
A. If the tree in front of your house, like Elijah, takes a chariot of fire, its mantle will fall upon Elisha. If, in the blast of these autumnal cannons, so many ranks fall, there are reserved forces to take their place to defend the fortress of the hills.
B. The beaters of gold leaf will have more gold leaf to beat. The crown that drops today from the head of the oak will be picked up and handed down for other kings to wear. Let the blasts come. They only make room for other life.
C. So, when we go, others take our place. We do not grudge the future generations their places. We will have had our good time. Let them come on and have theirs. There is no sighing among these leaves at our feet because other leaves are to follow them. After a lifetime of what ever we do, preaching, doctoring, selling, sewing, building or digging, let us cheerfully give way for those who come on to do the preaching, doctoring, selling, sewing, building and digging.
1. God grant that their life may be brighter than ours. As we get older, do not let us be affronted if young men and women crowd us a little. We will have had our day, and we must let them have theirs. When our voices get cracked, let us not snarl at those who can warble. When our knees are stiffened, let us have patience with those who go fleet as the deer.
2. Because our leaf is fading, do not let us despise the unfrosted. Autumn must not envy the Spring. Old men must be patient with boys. Dr. Guthrie, a Scottish philanthropist once said, "You need not think I am old because my hair is white; I never was so young as I am now." I look back to my childhood days, and remember when, on winter nights, in the sitting-room, where I played or read, father and mother chatted. For some reason though they aged, in my sight they never got old.
3. Do not be disturbed as you see good and great men die. People worry when some important personage passes off the stage, and say, "His place will never be taken." But neither the church nor the State will suffer for it. There will be others to take the places. When God takes one man away, he has another right behind him. God is so rich in resources that he could spare thousands of great men and women. There will be other leaves as green, as exquisitely veined, as gracefully etched, as well-pointed. However prominent the place we fill, our death will not jar the world. One falling leaf does not shake the Adirondacks.
4. In the olden days a ship was not well manned unless there was an extra supply of hands—some working on deck; some sound asleep in their hammocks. God has manned this world very well. There will be other seamen on deck when you and I are down in the cabin, sound asleep in the hammocks.
III. Again: As with the leaves, we fade and fall amid myriads of others. One can not count the number of plumes which these frosts are plucking from the hills. They will strew all the streams; they will drift into the caverns; they will soften the wild beast’s lair, and fill the eagle’s aerie.
A. All the aisles of the forest will be covered with their carpet, and the steps of the hills glow with a wealth of color and shape that will defy the looms of the greatest cloth makers. What urn could hold the ashes of all these dead leaves? Who could count the hosts that burn on this funeral pyre of the mountains?
B. So we die in concert. The clock that strikes the hour of our going will sound the going of many thousands. Keeping step with the feet of those who carry us out will be the tramp of hundreds doing the same errand. In the US between 6600 and 7000 people every day lie down in their final resting on earth.
1. Lakeview Cemetery has one hundred and five thousand of the dead. I contemplated this and thought; Then if there are a hundred and five thousand here, it must be the largest cemetery in Ohio. It isn’t of course; Green Lawn in Columbus has a hundred and fifty thousand headstones. Spring Grove in Cincinnati two hundred and thirty thousand.
2. We all are dying. London, New York and Peking are not the great cities of the world. The grave is the great city. It has mightier population, longer streets, and thicker darkness. Caesar is there, and all his subjects. Nero is there, and all his victims.
3. It is a city of kings and paupers! It has swallowed up in its immigrations Thebes, and Tyre, and Babylon, and will swallow all our cities. Yet, it is a City of Silence. No voice. No hoof. No wheel. No clash. No clang and clamor of the factory. No murmur and hum of commerce. No jar. No whisper. A Great City of Silence! Of all its billions of hands, not one of them is lifted. Of all its billions of eyes, not one of them sparkles. Of all its billions of hearts, not one pulsates. The living in this world are a small minority.
C. If, in the movement of time, some great question between the living and the dead should be put, and God called up all the dead and the living to decide it, as we lifted our hands, and from all the resting-places of the dead they lifted their hands, the dead would outvote us many times over. The multitude of the dying and the dead are as these autumnal leaves drifting under our feet this season. We march on toward eternity, not by companies of a hundred, or regiments of a thousand, or battalions of ten thousands, but thousands of millions abreast! Marching on! MARCHING ON!
IV. Again: As with variety of appearance—the leaves de-part, and so do we. You have noticed that some trees, at the first touch of the frost, lose all their beauty; they stand withered, and uncomely, and ragged, waiting for the northwest storm to drive them into the mire. The sun shining at noonday gilds them with no beauty. Ragged leaves! Dead leaves! No one stands to study them. They are gathered in no vase. They are hung on no wall.
A. It is so that death smites many. There is no beauty in their departure. One sharp frost of sickness, or one blast off the cold waters, and they are gone. No tinge of hope. No prophecy of heaven. Their spring was all abloom with bright prospects; their summer thick foliaged with opportunities; but October came, and their glory went. Frosted! In early autumn the frosts come, but do not seem to damage vegetation. They are light frosts. Yet some morning you look out of the window and say, "There was a killing frost last night," and you know that from that day every thing will wither.
B. So many seem to get along without religion, amid the annoyances and vexatious of life that nip them slightly here and nip them there. But after a while death comes. It is a killing frost, and all is ended.
C. Oh! What withering and scattering, death makes among those not prepared to meet it! They leave every thing pleasant behind them—their house, their families, their friends, their books, their pictures, and step out of the sunshine into the shadow. They hang their harps on the willow, and trudge away into everlasting captivity. They quit the presence of bird, and bloom, and wave, to go unbeckoned and unwelcomed. The bower—in which they stood, and sang, and wove garlands, and made themselves merry, has gone down under an awful equinox. No funeral bell can toll one half the dolefulness of their condition. Frosted!
D. But thank God that is not the way people always die. Tell me, on what day of all the year the leaves of the Virginia creeper are as bright as they are today? So Christian character is never so attractive as in the dying hour. Such ones go into the grave, not as a dog, with frown and harsh voice, driven into a kennel, but they pass away calmly, brightly, sweetly, grandly! As the leaf! As THE LEAF!
E. Why go to the death-bed of distinguished men, when we all know of a house from where a Christian has departed? The Christian has bought from Christ gold refined in the fire, and white garments. Their eyes have been anointed that they may see. Their treasure is in heaven and their reward is great. When we look at our precious relative, loved elder who has ceased to breath we think of our sorrow, the emptiness we feel. Yet should we, when it is all over, not think how grandly they slept! —a giant resting after a battle. Oh! There are many Christian death-beds. The servants of God are taken home as His children. From every corner they come, from the gate of the poorhouse; to the gate of princes. The shout of captives breaking their chains comes on the morning air. The heavens ring again and again with the coronation. One can imagine in the final day how the twelve gates of heaven are crowded with the ascending righteous. I see the accumulated glories of a thousand Christian death-beds—an autumnal forest illumined by an autumnal sunset. They died not in shame, but in triumph! As the leaf! As THE LEAF!
V. Lastly: As the leaves fade and fall only to rise, so do we. All this golden shower of the woods is making the ground richer, and in the juice, and sap, and life of the tree the leaves will come up again. Next May the south wind will blow the resurrection trumpet, and they will rise. So we fall in the dust only to rise again. "The hour is coming when all who are in their graves shall hear His voice and come forth." (John 5:28) It would be a horrible consideration to think that our bodies were always to lie in the ground. However beautiful the flowers you plant there, we do not want to make our everlasting residence in such a place.
A. I have with these eyes seen so many of the glories of the natural world, and the radiant faces of my friends, that I do not want to think that when I close them in death I shall never open them again. It is sad enough to have a hand or foot amputated. In a hospital, after a soldiers hand was taken off, he said, "Good-by dear old hand, you have done me a great deal of good service, and burst into tears." It is a more awful thing to think of having the whole body amputated from the soul forever. I would wish to have my body again, to see with, to hear with, to walk with. With this hand I to clasp the hand of my loved ones when I have passed clean over Jordan, and with it wave the triumphs of my King. Aha! we shall rise again—we shall rise again. As the leaf! As THE LEAF! (Philippians 3:20-21)
B. In crossing the waters the ship may founder and our bodies be eaten by the sharks; but God tameth Leviathan, and we shall come again. In an awful explosion our bodies may be shattered into a hundred fragments in the air; but God watches the disaster, and we shall come again. He will drag the deep, and ransack the tomb, and upturn the wilderness, and torture the mountain, but He will find us, and fetch us out and up to judgment and to victory. We shall come up with perfect eye, with perfect hand, with perfect foot, and with perfect body. A new body. All our weaknesses left behind.
C. We fall, but we rise! We die, but we live again! We molder away, but we come to higher unfolding! As the leaf! AS THE LEAF!

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We learn from the New Testament how to be saved. We need to hear the word; believe in Jesus; repent of our sins; we must confess our belief that Jesus is the Son of God; and be baptized for the remission of our sins... If we follow these steps, the Lord adds us to His church.
Perhaps there is someone in the assembly today with the need to be buried with Christ in baptism. If you have never done these things, we urge you to do so today. If anyone has this need or desires the prayers of faithful Christians on their behalf, we encourage them to come forward while we stand and sing.

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Reference Sermon
T. DeWitt Talmage