The Parable of the Trees

One of the most spiritually privileged counties in the whole of Scotland in a bye-gone day was the county of Ross-shire, where the Lord appeared to be pleased to raise up faithful preachers and hearers of His Word for many successive years on end. Among the most faithful of the preachers was Mr. John Porteous of Kilmuir, and among the most faithful of Mr. Porteous's hearers was a woman by the name of Elizabeth Munro.

One Saturday evening, while visiting the manse at Kilmuir, the good woman was afforded, by way of a parable and illustration, a conducted tour of the congregation of which Mr. Porteous was minister. He had informed her that his whole congregation was in his garden, and then, proceeded to “prove” this by showing her that the various types of Christians that were under his care were represented in the various trees that surrounded the old manse.

First stop was a tree that stood almost in the middle of the garden and which was well-laden with sweet and delicious apples which it seemed to bear almost every year without fail. This reminded the old man of a Christian such as Grissel MacKenzie whose one son had become an eminent minister of the gospel at Tongue and whose other son had been the faithful catechist of Creich. She herself had been descended from the Pope's Legate who had been sent to Scotland to suppress the Reformation, but who had been converted through the gospel that he had once laboured to destroy. She herself went on bearing precious fruit under the name of the family that the Lord had been so pleased to bless and own.

The branches of the next tree were fastened to wooden props. “This tree,” said Mr. Porteous, “before it will yield fruit must be drawn out in this manner. So there are some Christians in this parish that are so retiring and diffident that nothing can be got from them without means being employed to draw them out.”

Another tree had ropes fastened to the tops of the uppermost branches with which to bend them down, and thereby prevent them from being overturned by high winds. “Now,” said Mr. Porteous, “I have in my congregation some Christians who have superior gifts, and are inclined to soar very high, and would be in danger of being overturned. Therefore, to keep them, and render them fruitful, the Lord keeps them lowly by personal, or mental, or family, or by relative afflictions, or other crosses in their lot.”

Another tree had its branches helped up by supporting props. “These,” said the minister of Kilmuir, “are to keep the branches from being trodden upon; they are so laden with fruit that they are bent to the ground. Some Christians in my congregation,” he went on, “are near their everlasting rest. They are so laden with the fruits of holiness, that they are bent to the dust with a sense of their utter vileness in themselves; and were it not that the great Husbandman supports them with the props of the promises, they would be utterly cast down.”

Lastly, they came to an old willow tree in a corner of the garden. “That tree,” said Mr. Porteous, “when I first came to this place appeared to be dead. It continued so for many years, but last spring, to my amazement, I saw a tender twig springing out of it. That is old Samuel Ross in Milton, who for sixty or seventy years was not only dead in trespasses and sins, but was one of Satan's generals in wickedness. But now, in God's sovereign and adorable grace, he has been plucked as a brand from the burning, and in his old age, some fruits of grace are seen manifesting themselves in him.”

The setting sun reminded the Kilmuir minister that that night was drawing near. “Now,” said he to his old friend, “I have spent some hours with you here; now, go home, and spend this night and tomorrow morning at the throne of grace on my behalf, and if I am dry in the pulpit tomorrow, the blame will lie at your door.” It is said that he had uncommon liberty on the following day.