HILE ANXIOULSY CONTEMPLATING the fate of some recently planted lilies, I turned to Matthew 6:26, 27: “Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?” (KJV).*

When I looked for reinforcement among the theologians, I found a startling observation: “To worry about food and drink is to have learned nothing from the natural creation.”¹

I was gently reminded that the created order not only testifies to God’s “eternal power and divine nature” (Rom. 1:20), but also to His providence. The point is not that we should eschew work—the birds do not simply wait for God to drop food into their beaks—but that we should not fret. We are certainly worth far more than birds, and if the tiny insignificant wren merits God’s concern, then surely He will feed us.

Matthew 6:28-30 further addressed my fretfulness by urging me to reflect on the “flowers of the field”:  “And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?” (KJV).

On Its Head
The Old Testament writers compared human beings to flowers or grass to emphasize the brevity and fragility of life. “All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall.

. . . Surely the people are grass” (Isa. 40:6, 7). “He springs up like a flower and withers away; like a fleeting shadow, he does not endure” (Job 14:2). “You sweep men away in the sleep of death; they are like the new grass of the morning—though in the morning it springs up new, by evening it is dry and withered” (Ps. 90:5, 6).

Jesus, however, established a new order. The bravura of the humble flower was not taken by Jesus to express the fleeting, transitory nature of life, but instead to remind us that if God lavishes such attention upon the lilies of the field, brief though their span of life is, then how much more will He care for us.

“This novel twisting of an old motif may well have been deliberate and intended to catch the hearer off guard. . . . Although the rabbinic literature contrasts the carefree life of animals with the burdens of humanity, in the gospels the birds of heaven, who neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, serve to show God’s providential care; hence human beings need not be anxious. So here again [with Jesus] a traditional theme seems to be turned on its head.”²

The long-stemmed, starlike field flower we know today as the lily is probably just one of many species so-named in Scripture. The lotus, tulip, anemone, autumn crocus, Turk’s-cap lily, ranunculus, iris, and even gladiolus all fall within the meanings of the Hebrew (shuˆshan, shuˆshannah) and Greek (krinon) words translated “lily,” with different ones likely having been thought of by different authors. A common flower of the field, the lily possesses a beauty and fragrance alluded to in poetry (S. of Sol. 4:5; 5:13), and an artistic form richly copied in architecture: “The capitals on top of the pillars in the portico were in the shape of lilies, four cubits high. . . . It [the ornate “Sea”] was a handbreadth in thickness, and its rim was like the rim of a cup, like a lily blossom. It held two thousand baths” (1 Kings 7:19-26; cf. 2 Chron. 4:5).

To Labor—Or Not to Labor?
The 1963 religious-like movie Lilies of the Field blazed new trails in the motion picture world, though it boasted no special effects or innovations in cinematography.³ Nor were there any spectacular car chases or dreamy choreography, and certainly no compelling violence. The story line itself was quite simple: An African-American ex-GI named Homer Smith is roaming around the Southwest taking odd jobs when he stops at a small farm to refill his car radiator. But the farm is being run by five German nuns who naively plead with him to help them with their heavier chores. New to America, they do not speak much English, but somehow the one in charge convinces Homer to stay and help work the farm willed to them.

As Homer fixes their leaky roof, they send up prayers for the man “God has sent.” The head sister dreams of someday building a chapel—or, as she says, a “shapel”—and she is convinced that humble Homer has been sent from above to help her achieve her dream. Homer protests loudly, even rudely, but she is not to be dissuaded. Besides, he is tired of wandering around, so not much arm-twisting is necessary—as long as the sisters will supply the needed materials.

After teaming up with a contractor, Homer begins the chapel. He gives a goodly portion of his minuscule pay back to the nuns so they can buy food, and spends his spare time teaching them English. When materials run out, he disappears for a while, but returns a few weeks later to complete the job he has started for the nuns, whom he has obviously come to love. But now he is assisted by the local townspeople. The night before the chapel is to be dedicated, Homer slips away with as little fanfare as when he first arrived. As one reviewer enthuses this small low-budget picture “went straight for the heart and succeeded critically as well as financially.”⁴

Who were the lilies of the field? Were they not the nuns, cast as they were upon a foreign land, with meager communication skills and resources, like wild lilies buffeted willy-nilly by the vicissitudes of life? Yet they maintained their trust in God and stepped out in faith.

And how did God reveal His caring power? Of course, through Homer Smith, who arrived absolutely unheralded and left without apparent destination. Some might see in him God’s hand personified; others would go so far as to call him an angel of God. Yet Homer, too, has something of the helpless “lily” in him, does he not? Though not without resources, he is more or less without purpose (which is perhaps even worse) and seems blessed that he is not only needed to give, but to give sacrificially. A man with a checkered past, Homer emerged somehow cleansed by his ordeal, as if by helping the sisters he repaid his debt to society.

The focus on Matthew 6:26-30 in Thoughts From the Mount of Blessing begins with the subtitle “Be not anxious.” We are reminded that the same God who gave us life well knows our need of  food to sustain it, and that He who created our bodies is mindful of our need for clothing. “The hillsides and the fields were bright with flowers, and pointing to them in the dewy freshness of the morning, Jesus said, ‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.’

“The graceful forms and delicate hues of the plants and flowers may be copied by human skill, but what touch can impart life to even one flower or blade of grass? Every wayside blossom owes its being to the same power that set the starry worlds on high. Through all created things thrills one pulse of life from the great heart of God.”⁵ Indeed, the flowers of the field are clothed in richer robes than have ever graced the forms of earth’s mightiest monarchs.

The Deeper Lesson
But there is a deeper significance to Jesus’ lesson about the lilies. “Through the flowers, God would call our attention to the loveliness of Christlike character. He who has given such beauty to the blossoms desires far more that the soul should be clothed with the beauty of the character of Christ. Consider, says Jesus, how the lilies grow; how springing from the cold, dark earth, or from the mud of the river bed, the plants unfold in loveliness and fragrance. Who would dream of the possibilities of beauty in the rough brown bulb of the lily? But when the life of God, hidden therein, unfolds at His call in the rain and the sunshine, men marvel at the vision of grace and loveliness.

“Even so will the life of God unfold in every human soul that will yield itself to the ministry of His grace, which, free as the rain and the sunshine, comes with its benediction to all. It is the word of God that creates the flowers, and the same word will produce in you the graces of His Spirit.”⁶

*Unless noted otherwise, Scripture quotations are from the New International Version.

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¹ Frank E. Gaebelein, ed., Matthew, Mark, Luke, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1984), vol. 8, p. 180.
² W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, eds., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew (Edinburgh, Scotland: T. & T. Clark, Ltd., 1988), vol. 1, p. 653.
³ Martin Connors and Jim Craddock, eds., Video Hound’s Golden Movie Retriever (N.Y.: Visible Ink Press, 1998), p. 502. (The film, adapted by James Poe from a story by William E. Barrett, was later remade for television.)
⁴ Ralph Nelson, rev.: Lilies of the Field, 1963 (http://www.tvguide.com/movies/database/ShowMovie.asp?MI=4658).
⁵ Ellen G. White, Thoughts From the Mount of Blessing, pp. 95, 96.
⁶ Ibid., p. 97.

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Gerald F. Colvin is superintendent of the Etowah, Tennessee, City School District.