Consider the ravens, that they sow not nor reap; which have neither storehouse nor granary; and God feeds them. How much better are *ye* than the birds?
The Lord has just told of a rich man who filled his barns and lost his soul. Now He turns from the crowd to His disciples with a different danger — not greed, but worry. He points them to a bird nobody admired, and asks them to draw a conclusion about themselves.
This verse answers the third of three problems in the chapter. One writer names each problem and its remedy:
So the Lord disposes of three terrible foxes that spoil the grapes in God's vineyard: fear, covetousness, and care. He answers the fear of man by the fear of God; covetousness, by being rich toward God; and care, by the care of God.
The command is not to glance at the birds but to think about them. Luke and Matthew use different words for this command. The picture itself comes from the Old Testament:
Luke 12:24 — "God feeds them": compare Psalm 147:9. For Luke's katanoēsate, "consider," Matthew has katamathete, "take a lesson."
Of all the birds He could have named, the Lord chose an unclean one — a scavenger that eats dead flesh.
The Lord gives them an example from the birds around them. God's care stooped down to watch over even an unclean bird like a raven.
One writer weighs how little these birds have to commend them, and how God still answers their cry:
The ravens cry — the young and helpless ones — and God feeds them. These feeders on dead flesh may seem worse than useless to man, but God takes care of them. They are completely helpless, with nothing but their cry to attract attention. God does not turn a deaf ear even to the croak of a raven.
The rich fool built bigger barns. The ravens have none, and God feeds them anyway:
Even the ravens, unclean birds, not built to work and store up for the future, are still fed by God. They have no worry about providing for what is ahead, but find supply as the need arises. It is God who provides for them. It is a pointed object lesson for us. We too should have no anxiety, but simple, genuine faith in Him who cares for us with perfect love.
The argument moves from the lesser to the greater. Notice too which name for God the Lord uses here — one writer marks the change and what it adds:
I notice it is "God," not "Your Father," as the characteristic style here. This is a further argument… As to food, "Consider the ravens" — for God's actual providing care and your own weakness. As to clothing, "Consider the lilies."
Another writer sets the same comparison in terms of relationship, not rank in creation:
He nourishes each passing creature; He gives the fading flower its beauty. How much more did He care for His children? … They are called to believe in His sustaining goodness. He never fails in His love; they ought not to fail in resting and counting on it day by day. … He who embraces the least objects of His care will act worthily of His love to those nearest to Him.
Trusting God for food is not the same as doing nothing:
The Lord encourages full faith rather than anxious worry. He cannot fail, though needs press heavily. The question is simply this: Is the grace of God enough for the child of God? We can depend on Him to supply His saints with every need of life… Of course we should work to support ourselves and our families, but worrying is not working.
- Care — the chapter faces three enemies: fear, covetousness, and care. The care of God answers our care.
- Consider — the word means study the ravens, not just notice them. The picture comes from Psalm 147:9.
- Croak — God feeds a bird counted unclean, a scavenger with nothing but a cry to attract attention.
- Cupboards — the ravens keep no storehouse and no barn. God feeds them as the need arises.
- Children — God cares for the least of His creatures. He will act worthily of His love toward those nearest to Him.
But which of you by being careful can add to his stature one cubit?
Jesus is speaking to His disciples about food and clothing. He then asks a question that answers itself: worry has never added anything to anyone's life.
The crowd had just heard a warning about greed. Then the Lord narrows His audience, and the tone changes from warning to invitation.
Then the Lord turns to His disciples, and His appeal rises higher. The other was a warning for men, but for the disciples there was a new path opening… That is: do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, or what you will put on. This was a great step forward in the teaching given to souls — a guard against anxiety that rests on faith in God.
One writer notes that a person free of greed can still be ruined by worry, and that these words went to believers.
A person may not be greedy enough to pile up great riches for himself, and yet may still be a victim of worry and anxiety. This too is really opposition to the grace of God. Even a believer often gives in to it, for the Lord was speaking to His disciples in verse 22… We should certainly work to support ourselves and our families (2 Thess. 3:10), but worrying is not working.
Commentators differ on what the verse measures. Older translations read "stature" and "one cubit"; the ESV reads "a single hour to his span of life."
The question exposes with force how helpless anxiety is to add the familiar unit of measure to our stature. Yet many modern writers prefer length of life to "stature"… In any case the general sense is clear to the simplest reader.
Another writer traces the same expression through other passages, where it covers both height and age.
No one can change anything by his own strength or worry, whether his stature, as in Luke 19:3, or his age, as in John 9:21 and Hebrews 11:11 (where the original uses the same expression). And it would do him no good anyway.
This writer keeps the older wording, "stature… one cubit." He weighs the body against everything else we worry about.
But we have more than this: the utter powerlessness of man, in what most nearly concerns him, is brought out with matchless beauty and truth. "Which of you, by being anxious, can add to his stature one cubit? If therefore you cannot do even what is least, why are you anxious about the rest?" What concerns the body is least.
Worry is not just unpleasant. Another writer gives a second reason to be free of it.
But there is another reason we are urged to be free from care: that care is completely worthless… We gain nothing by our care. By giving in to it we only make ourselves unfit for seeking the kingdom of God. Our unbelief puts up a barrier in the way of His acting for us… If we take our affairs into our own hands, it is clear that we do not want God.
Our helplessness carries a lesson, and the lesson points beyond ourselves.
The human helplessness that we feel has its own instruction. All our anxiety cannot add a cubit to our stature. And how much else there is like this, where we depend completely on the will of another! Why not leave everything to Him? We already have to leave so much to Him, and He clothes the dying lilies of the field with a glory greater than Solomon's. The weakness of a man's faith is the only really sorrowful weakness, after all.
The verse also touches how we see ourselves. We did not choose our own height or our own gifts.
The lord of the servants gave each one a number of talents that matched his ability. None of us have made ourselves… Whatever we are, gifted or not, our part is to use what God has entrusted to us, and to be faithful and devoted. We are not to wish we were someone else, or to do someone else's work.
- Helpless. Worrying cannot add one cubit — to your height or to your years. It shows how powerless you are in the thing closest to you.
- Least. The body is the smallest matter, and you cannot manage even that. So worry about anything larger has no ground.
- Worthless. Worry gains nothing and costs much: it unfits you for seeking God's kingdom and blocks His acting for you.
- Dependent. That same helplessness is a teacher. So much is already left to Another's will — why not leave the rest there too?
- Content. None of us made ourselves. Use what God gave you instead of wishing you were someone else.
If therefore ye cannot [do] even what is least, why are ye careful about the rest?
Here the Lord is telling His disciples not to be anxious about food and clothing. This verse drives the point home: if worry cannot manage the smallest thing, why hand it everything else?
The verse looks back to the question just asked, about adding a cubit. One writer notes how small that addition is, and how far it is beyond us.
Nor does the Lord spare them the humbling proof of how little man's anxiety achieves. "Which of you by anxiety can add to his stature one cubit?" It was a very small thing, though some would count it a very great addition. Yet even for this, how powerless man is! Why then be anxious about a garment?
The word can point two ways. It may mean physical height, or length of life.
No one can change anything by his own strength or worry, whether it is his stature, as in Luke 19:3, or his age, as in John 9:21 and Hebrews 11:11. The original uses the same expression in each place. And it would not be of any profit either.
The Lord ranks our concerns, and the ones about the body come last. Older translations put the phrase as "what is least."
But we have more than this. Here the utter powerlessness of man, in what most nearly concerns him, comes out with matchless beauty and truth. "Which of you, by being anxious, can add to his stature one cubit? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest?" What concerns the body is least.
One writer applies the same test to our own worrying, and asks what it has ever changed.
The Lord asked whether we can add a cubit (18 inches) to our physical height by worrying. If our anxious thoughts cannot change even the small matters, what is the sense of anxiety about anything? Worry only distresses us, and often others too. It can change nothing. Why not then be calm and at peace in trusting the Lord? He has certainly always proven faithful.
Worry is not just useless. One writer traces the damage it does and where it ends.
But there is another reason to be free from care: the utter worthlessness of that care. "Which of you, by being anxious, can add to his stature one cubit? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest?" We gain nothing by our care. By giving in to it we only unfit ourselves for seeking the kingdom of God, and by our unbelief we place a barrier in the way of His acting for us... If we take our affairs into our own hands, it is clear that we do not want God. So we are left under the weight of our own troubled thoughts. In the end we take refuge in some human help, and make shipwreck of faith.
Not being able to do the least thing has something to teach us.
The human helplessness that we feel has its own instruction. All one's anxiety cannot add a cubit to the stature. And how much there is like this, where we depend completely on the will of another! Why not, then, leave all things to Him? We have to leave so much to Him already, and He clothes the perishing lilies of the field with a glory greater than Solomon's. The weakness of a man's faith is the only really sorrowful weakness, after all.
One writer sets the two sides of the Lord's argument together.
On one side there was God's caring provision for the least of His creatures. On the other side, let them remember how utterly weak their anxieties were. Let them seek the kingdom of God, and all the rest would be added.
Behind the call to trust stands a Father who already knows what we need.
"I am in want," you say; well, the Father knows. There is not a single thing that can affect one of His people that does not affect the heart of God. A sentence which I read many years ago, and which has never left me, is this: "Whatever might be a care to you produces a care for you in the heart of God."
- Least — the body and its needs are the smallest of our concerns; that is the "least" the verse names.
- Powerless — we cannot add even a cubit, so anxiety fails at the very point where it should be easiest.
- Worthless — worry changes nothing; it only distresses us and those around us.
- Costly — beyond being useless, it unfits us for seeking the kingdom and blocks God's acting for us.
- Answered — our helplessness sends us to the Father. He cares for the least of His creatures, and He knows what we need.
Consider the lilies how they grow they neither toil nor spin; but I say unto you, Not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed as one of these.
Just before this, Jesus told His disciples not to be anxious about what they would eat or wear, pointing them first to the ravens God cares for. Now He turns from birds to flowers. Why should a plant that does nothing be a still stronger answer to worry?
The two examples are not repetition. Each answers a different fear. A bird can at least look busy. A flower cannot.
Then He gives a still more striking example from the flowers of the field. "Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin." God's care of the plant world, no less than the animal world, gives striking and familiar proofs that cannot be denied. The ravens might seem to do something; but as to the lilies, what can they do?… The one, therefore, the ravens, rebuked their care for their food, and the lilies their care for their clothing.
Toiling and spinning are the two halves of making a garment. Saying the lily does neither is not a rebuke of honest work — one writer is careful to keep the two apart.
Here He points not to birds but to the flowers. So He does not speak of sowing or reaping or storing, but of toiling and spinning. God cares for the birds without the one, and for the lilies without the other. Were not His children far more to their heavenly Father than either?… This does not mean that sowing or reaping, toiling or spinning is never a duty. It may well be a duty, if they had to provide for themselves and their household, and could earn their supplies more easily by such work.
Solomon was Israel's richest king, the best-dressed man they could name. Yet the flower wins the comparison, and the closer you look the more it wins.
What a rebuke from the plants of the field, as our Lord explains it! Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these lilies. The closer you look at them, even with the most powerful instruments, the more completely they outshine the splendour of Israel's richest king. Yet that lavish beauty of form and colour was only a carpet spread for the feet of the poorest Israelite on one day, and on another was fuel for an oven… He uses the double fact to judge nature's anxiety about earthly things… He uses it to banish doubts and distress and unworthy desires, and to settle the heart in confidence of His Father's present, perfect, and loving care.
The lesson runs from the small to the great. If God spends such beauty on a plant that lasts a day, the conclusion about His own people is not in doubt.
As to clothing, the Lord used the example of the lilies, created without the ability to work, yet clothed in beauty such as even Solomon with all his wealth was not able to match. Since God so lavishly gives such beauty to grass, though it exists so briefly, how much more can He be depended on to clothe those whom He has given His Son to redeem!
The command is to look at a flower, but the flower is not the destination.
He never meant the disciples to make the birds of the sky or the lilies of the field the objects of their care, though not a few may misuse His words. Nor, in calling their attention to them, did He mean that they should treat them with scorn. They show His interest in all the works of God's hand and the creatures of His will. His aim is that the disciples should rise up to the Father above them all. He holds up the unmatched goodness of God toward what is so little in His eyes, so that they may be sure of the thoughtful and constant love He bears to His own.
One writer carries the picture further and reads the lily as an image of what God makes of a person. God gives that clothing; no one earns it.
Link this verse with the Song of Songs. Hear what the Bridegroom says of the earthly bride: "As the lily among thorns"… "so is my love among the daughters." There we have the teaching about the thorn — how it came in, and what its end will be. We were all thorns once. We can take these words for ourselves, and say that His grace has transformed us into the lily; arrayed in Christ, the believing soul has that fragrance and beauty before Him. God is the One who does this; it is not the result of their scheming and toil.
- Consider — the word tells us to look closely, and the closer we look, the further the lily outshines Solomon's robes.
- Given, not earned — the flower neither toils nor spins. Its clothing is God's work, though honest work can still be a duty for us.
- Lesser to greater — God dresses a flower that is oven fuel tomorrow; His children mean far more to their Father than that.
- Past the flower — the aim is not to gaze at nature. It is to rise from God's care for small things to the Father's constant love for His own.
- Lily character — we were all thorns once. Grace clothes us in Christ, with a beauty that is God's doing, not our scheming.
But if God thus clothe the grass, which to-day is in the field and to-morrow is cast into [the] oven, how much rather you, O ye of little faith?
Worry about food and clothes is ordinary. Here the Lord answers it, not with a rule, but with a plant: grass that is alive in the morning and fuel by evening. If God spends such care on what lasts a day, what does that say about His care for the people He calls His own?
Before the argument comes the diagnosis. Commentators note that God never laid this worry on us. The Lord draws His lesson from the world His hearers could see.
We are such foolish, unbelieving creatures, carrying a load of anxious care, which God has never laid upon us... The Lord will now turn attention to things of nature — the ravens, and the lilies of the field. He had spoken of food and of clothing, and the ravens and the lilies could teach people about such needs... How often the Lord drew His lessons from natural things, and from the workings of nature! And well He might, for the God of creation is the God of revelation.
The ravens and the lilies are not two versions of the same illustration. Each answers a separate worry.
The grass, which is alive in the field today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, is the lowliest thing, so to speak, that He has made in the plant world — something both common and short-lived. So the ravens rebuked their worry about food, and the lilies their worry about clothing.
The picture was plain fact to the first hearers. Their ovens burned dried grass.
People dug a hole in the ground and coated it with clay, which hardened in the heat of the fire. Any kind of grass soon dried in the sun, and they threw it into the oven to heat it... Scripture uses the heat of the oven as a picture of fast destruction.
That short life is what makes the argument work. God dresses in beauty a thing that has one day to live.
Yet all that beauty of form and colour was only a carpet spread under the feet of the poorest Israelite one day, and fuel for an oven the next. This end of its glory was no offence to the Lord. He was above all jealous for His Father's honour in His work. He uses the double fact to judge our natural anxiety about the things of earth... to banish doubts and distress and unworthy desires, and to settle the heart in confidence in His Father's present, perfect, and loving care.
The wording shifts. The grass has a Creator; the disciple has a Father.
Speaking of the ravens, and of the lilies, the Lord spoke of God. God feeds. God clothes. He stands to them only as Creator. But speaking to the disciples, He spoke of God as their Father. They were not only creatures of God, but children of God. Now, if God cares for His creatures, living and non-living, will He not provide for those who are both His creatures and His children?
Some have read this passage as a discouragement from work. Commentators say otherwise.
Sowing or reaping, toiling or spinning could well be a duty. It would be, if they had to provide for themselves and their household, and could earn their supplies more easily by such work than in any other way. Even in a world before sin, Jehovah put Adam, whom He had formed, into the garden of Eden to work it and guard it.
The closing phrase is measured. It does not call the disciples unbelievers. It weighs how far their trust reaches.
He recognised that they were not completely without faith, for they appealed to the Master for help. It was, however, only a very little faith... Faith must be weak if it can trust only once the cause of worry and alarm is gone.
The rebuke lands hardest on those who have received the most.
What! We have been born of God. We now have redemption as well as everlasting life, and the Holy Spirit to take up our every need and difficulty. The Lord intercedes for us, and the Father blesses us — the Father who sent His only begotten Son to us and for us when we had nothing but sins. And do souls so favoured distress themselves about clothes, maybe even fine clothes, beyond what suits a Christian man, woman, or child?
- The load — Worry over food and clothing is a weight God never placed on us. The Lord lifts it by pointing to what His hearers could see.
- The evidence — Grass was fuel: dried in the sun, thrown in a clay oven. God dressed it in beauty anyway, knowing it had one day to live.
- The argument — God clothes the grass, the lowest and shortest-lived thing He made. If His care reaches that far down, it reaches you.
- The relationship — He clothes grass as Creator; He clothes you as Father. Creature and child — the double claim that makes "how much more" certain.
- The rebuke — "Little faith" is real faith that stops short. It cannot rest until the trouble is gone. The cure is not more effort but a clearer sight of the Father whose care is perfect.