And on the morrow, when they were gone out of Bethany, he hungered.
Jesus had entered Jerusalem the day before and looked round the temple. He spent the night at Bethany and set out again in the morning. His hunger on that road raises two questions: what does it mean that the Lord of glory felt hunger, and what was He looking for?
Where He spent the night says something about how Jerusalem had received Him.
Bethany was His retreat at this time. Rejected, and therefore a stranger here, He finds His place in the family of faith that loved Him while the world was hostile. And He does come back, from the village to the city, from Bethany to Jerusalem. But this time it is not to renew and continue His service of love and power, as it had been up to now. It is to expose and convict Israel, and leave them under condemnation.
Only Mark records this sequence of days.
He alone has told us what the Lord did after entering Jerusalem in this way. He went into the temple, withdrew to Bethany for the night, and did not cleanse the temple until the following day (Mark 11:12, 15). Mark's character as a historian who pays attention to details comes out here very clearly.
One writer stops at this phrase and asks who it was who went hungry.
The Lord had been rejected at Jerusalem the day before, and had looked for lodging in Bethany. The following morning He set out to pay another visit to the doomed city. The journey was short, yet He grew hungry on the way — a touching hint that He had taken no food, no morning meal. A fig would have refreshed Him, but there was none. Think of this, and think of who and what He was!
This was not the only time He felt such need.
He Himself, the Son of David, knew hunger outside the gates of royal Zion (Mark 11:12), and in the wilderness too (Matt. 4:2). At Sychar He knew weariness and thirst as well (John 4:6-7).
His need was real, and the timing was no accident. He looked for what an owner may expect from his own planting.
The Lord returned to Bethany. The next day, going out from Bethany, He was hungry. The Lord was truly subject to all our infirmities — He took them — but even so, all of this was arranged. So the Lord looks for food in what He has created and planted. He did not create it to give Himself no delight, nor plant it to find no food or fruit in it.
The hunger had a second side. His soul was seeking something too.
A fig tree stands before Him by the roadside, and He comes to it to satisfy His hunger, but finds no fruit. Mark tells us it was not yet the season for figs. But the leaves on this tree promised fruit, just as Israel stood alone among the nations in professing loyalty to the one true God. Fruit could therefore be expected from her, if from nowhere else; and He, with the hunger of His soul unsatisfied, had been seeking it.
The time of year is what makes the empty branches so telling.
If it had been fig season, someone might already have gathered the fruit. But it was not, so fruit ought to have been there, unless the tree was barren. So the tree was a picture of the Jew — fruitless toward God, however much life he seemed to show before men. The tree had leaves, but no fruit.
The sentence on the tree carries further than the tree.
The sentence the Lord pronounced on the fig tree is God's lasting sentence on Israel, and on man in the flesh, who can produce nothing acceptable to God. Unless someone is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. Nothing can improve him out of his own sinful state. Happy is the person who bows to this truth. He gives up trying to establish a human righteousness, and submits himself to the righteousness of God.
The sentence was not God's last word about the nation.
As they stood under the old covenant, they were hopelessly condemned, and that covenant was not the time of fruit. When grace receives them under the new, Israel shall blossom, and bud, and fill the face of the world with fruit.
- Housed at Bethany — Rejected in the city, He lodged with the family of faith that loved Him. He came back not to serve but to convict.
- Hungry — The Son of David felt real hunger outside Zion's gates, with no morning meal. His need was true, and the moment was arranged.
- Hungry for fruit — He looks for food in what He Himself planted, and He did not plant it to find nothing.
- Hollow leaves — Harvest had not come, so fruit should have been there. Leaves without figs picture life before men and none toward God.
- Hope elsewhere — Man in the flesh cannot grow into fruitfulness. He must be born again and take God's righteousness instead of his own.
And seeing from afar off a fig-tree which had leaves, he came, if perhaps he might find something on it. And having come up to it he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the time of figs.
On the road from Bethany into Jerusalem, the Lord sees a fig tree in full leaf and goes over to it. He finds only leaves. The note that it was not the season for figs raises a hard question: did the tree, and the nation it pictured, get a fair test?
A fig tree covered in leaves was making a claim about itself, and the Lord tested that claim:
The fig tree is the emblem of the Jewish nation. He came looking for fruit and found none. "The fig tree was punished not for having no fruit, but for announcing through its leaves that it had fruit. It was punished not for being barren, but for being false. This was the guilt of Israel, so much deeper than the guilt of the nations."
The clause sounds at first like an excuse for the tree. Read another way, it condemns the tree: nobody had gathered the crop yet, so an empty tree was a barren tree:
In fig season the fruit might have already been picked. But this was not fig season, so fruit ought to have been on the tree — unless it was barren.
Commentators differ on the force of that clause. One reads it as a sign that the real crop was always meant to come later:
Many have shown that some of the old crop might still have remained, since the fig tree bears twice. But Israel was not to bear fruit under the old covenant. All the prophets bear witness to the same thing. Israel will blossom and bud, and fill the face of the world with fruit, when grace brings the nation back under the new covenant and the Messiah. The Lord had a right to seek fruit as they were; but it was not the time.
The Lord left Bethany that morning with nothing to eat. His hunger had a second layer:
On the next day, returning to the city with His disciples, we read of the King that "He was hungry." He sought fruit on a fig tree, but found "nothing but leaves." May we not say that with the Lord it was not only a physical hunger? It was also a spiritual hunger, seeking some return from Israel for all the centuries of goodness God had given the nation. Something that would be fruit to satisfy the heart of God. In the tree the Lord found plenty of leaves but no fruit. In the nation He found a great show of piety before men, but nothing in the secret life that would be fruit for God.
Fig leaves appear at the start of the Bible too. The first covering people made for themselves was made of them:
Man's love of patchwork showed itself very early. As soon as sin entered the world, Adam and his wife tried in vain to hide their nakedness from the eyes of their Creator. "They sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths" (Gen. 3:7). … This is the first mention of the fig leaf in the Bible; afterwards it becomes a symbol of man's so-called good works, the outward profession of religion (compare Mark 11:13, Luke 13:6-9).
The sentence on that tree reaches past one nation. It settles what human nature can produce without new life:
The sentence the Lord pronounced on the fig tree is the lasting sentence of God on Israel, on man in the flesh, who can produce nothing acceptable to God. Unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. He cannot be improved out of his own sinnership. He cannot be developed into what he is not. He must be born completely anew. Happy is the person who bows to this truth. He stops trying to build a human righteousness and submits himself to the righteousness of God.
The curse fell on that one tree for ever, but the Lord's search for fruit does not end in disappointment:
He hungered. There were no figs on the barren fig tree, no response from Israel for the heart of Christ. He hungered. His hunger will be satisfied. The actual fig tree the Lord cursed may bear no fruit for ever, yet the fig tree of Israel will bear fruit, even if God has to prune it for two thousand years.
- Hunger. The Lord left Bethany hungry, and that hunger pictures a deeper one — a longing for some return from a nation God had been good to for centuries.
- Leaves. A tree in full leaf was advertising a crop it did not have. The sin punished was falseness, not barrenness.
- Season. Nobody had gathered the crop yet, so an empty tree proved itself barren. Other writers read the clause as pointing to a crop Israel would bear later, under grace.
- Sentence. What fell on the tree fell on religious profession itself: no one can be improved out of his sinful state — he must be born anew.
- Harvest. The one tree withered for ever, yet the Lord's hunger will be satisfied; Israel will bear fruit, however long the pruning takes.
And answering he said to it, Let no one eat fruit of thee any more for ever. And his disciples heard [it].
On the road between His entry into Jerusalem and His cleansing of the temple, Jesus stops at a leafy fig tree and finds nothing on it. He speaks a sentence over the tree while His disciples are listening. The words sound harsh for a tree. That is the clue: the tree is not the real subject.
Commentators see two hungers meeting at that tree.
On the next day, returning to the city with His disciples, we read of the King that "He was hungry." He sought fruit on a fig tree, but found "nothing but leaves." May we not say that with the Lord this was not only a physical hunger? It was also a spiritual hunger. It sought some return from Israel for all the centuries of goodness God had given the nation. Something that would be fruit to satisfy the heart of God.
Commentators read the tree as a picture of Israel, and of what a long history of God's care had produced.
He curses the tree, saying, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again"; and the fig tree withers at once. This is Israel according to the old covenant, man according to the flesh. This is man in the place where God has spent all His care and used every means. This is man for whom God could give up even His only Son, to get some good from his heart. All was in vain. He had spared the tree this year also, when the keeper of the vineyard asked Him to (Luke 13). He had dug around it and fertilised it, but it had produced no fruit. Plenty of leaves, but no fruit; a pretence of piety, religious forms, but man does not have the true fruit that God's heart seeks in His own.
The tree did not look bare. It looked promising. Commentators apply that same test far beyond Israel.
How solemn the result! Those who, whatever their religious profession before men, stop living rightly before God will be set aside as a testimony before men. So the Lord has to say, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again." This is surely a principle of wide application. Later the Lord has to speak in the same way to the church at Ephesus. They made such a fair show of piety with their works, but their affections were not true to Himself: "You have abandoned the love you had at first." In the end the Lord warns them that He would remove their lampstand. Their heart was not right with Christ, so they would lose their testimony before men. This is a solemn reminder to us all. The real test of spirituality is not the outward profession of piety before men, but the secret life lived before Christ.
Mark tells the fig tree story in two halves, with the cleansing of the temple between them. One writer sees a single act there, not two errands.
Next follows the cursing of the fig tree (12-26), woven together with the cleansing of the temple. The two are one — two sides of the same act. He must cleanse His house, and to do this, fruitless profession must be withered up.
The words sound final. Commentators ask how far that finality reaches.
God formed them to bear His name before the world. They failed. He dealt with them as responsible and set them aside, as looked at under the old covenant. The word to the barren fig tree was, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again." The tree might bear leaves, but the Lord came seeking fruit and found none. So the tree withered at once. So God set Israel aside — the vessel meant to carry His name to the world. But this did not touch the question of God's faithfulness. He will restore Israel in the last days.
Mark ends the verse by noting the audience. The withered tree next morning startles Peter — and the surprise itself is questioned.
But should this have surprised the apostle? Was there not power in the words of Jesus for even greater wonders than this? For the voice that cursed the fruitless fig tree was the same voice that ages before said, "Let there be light," and there was light (Gen. 1:3).
- Hunger. Christ came looking for fruit, and His hunger went deeper than the body's.
- Leaves. The tree promised fruit and had none: profession before men without life before God.
- Sentence. The word spoken over the tree is a word over the nation, after God had already spent every means of care on it.
- Cleansing. Withering the fruitless tree and cleansing His house are two sides of one act.
- Future. The sentence ends fruit-bearing under the old covenant, not God's faithfulness — He will restore Israel in the last days.
And they come to Jerusalem, and entering into the temple, he began to cast out those who sold and who bought in the temple, and he overthrew the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of the dove-sellers,
The ride into Jerusalem is over, and the first place Jesus goes is the temple. What He does there is not a burst of temper. It is an act of authority.
One writer sets the two days side by side:
Yesterday He had made a full survey of their condition, and of the condition of His Father's house, Jehovah's house. Today He carries out judgment with all the authority — the condemning authority — of Jehovah's King. He will bear with none of this evil now. Grace had been patient for a long time. He had withdrawn to a distance to give time for repentance.
This is the second time Jesus cleared the temple. One writer sets out how the two occasions differ:
We have said that the Lord cleansed the temple twice. John here, and he alone, tells us of the first. Matthew 21:12-13; Mark 11:15-17; Luke 19:45-46 agree in telling us, and they only, of the second. On the first occasion He acted as in the Father's house; on the second, as in His own. "My Father's house" He called it in John. "My house" He called it in Matthew and the others. Further, when challenged on the first occasion, He at once gave the Jews a sign. When challenged the last time, He refused. The first time, His presence as God's messenger was new to the city, so He gave them a sign. The second time, they already had proof after proof of His divine mission, so He would not grant their request.
The traders had reasons for being there. One writer grants those reasons, then says where the wrong lay:
The Jews would doubtless have furnished good reasons for permitting these abominations. Did not the strangers need to change their varied monies? Were not the doves a necessity for the very poorest, who could afford no larger sacrifice? But the whole thing had been debased into a money-making concern. A man might come from far away seeking God. When he reached the house, the dishonesty of those connected with it could easily drive him off.
Jesus does more than tidy the place. The same writer shows what its holiness secured:
He maintained the holiness of God's house. He kept it holy as Jehovah's house, not as a mere convenience for Jewish pride. And as Jehovah's house, His Father's house, it had all its wide claim and value in His eyes: a house of prayer for all nations. The holiness of God's house is what widens its reach. Holiness is what makes it truly God's house. His claim is over all, and it is a claim of grace.
Mark tells the fig tree story around the temple scene. One writer says the two belong together:
Next follows the cursing of the fig tree (12-26), woven together with the purging of the temple. The two are indeed one, but two sides of the same act. He must cleanse His house, and to do this, fruitless profession must be withered up.
Writers do not leave this in the past. One warns that leaders in the church can fall into the same thing:
That house is the place where God approaches men and man can approach God. In the hands of men who professed religion, it had become corrupted into a means of indulging their greed. What the leaders in Israel did, it is possible for the leaders in the Christian assembly to do, but for the grace of God.
Another writer names the remedy in the plainest terms:
Again religion has been turned into a money-making concern. It has gone so far that the person who would seek after God is often driven away completely… The house of God on earth today is formed of saints — not dead stones but "living" ones. We have to learn how we are to behave in it. Paul's first letter to Timothy gives us the needed instructions.
- Whose house — He acts as owner. In John it is "My Father's house"; here He comes to what is His own, and judgment follows a full survey made the day before.
- What they made it — a money-making concern. Every stall had a reasonable excuse, and together they turned approach to God into profit.
- What He did — He cleansed rather than tolerated, because holiness is what makes the house God's at all.
- Who it was for — "all nations." Its holiness is exactly what widens it; God's claim over everyone is a claim of grace.
- What it costs — the fruitless fig tree and the cleared temple are two sides of one act. Empty profession must wither before the house is fit. The same greed can enter the church today.
and suffered not that any one should carry any package through the temple.
Jesus has just cursed the barren fig tree, and now He clears the temple of its traders and stops people carrying goods through the courts. Why would a shortcut through a building matter to Him?
He did not ask the temple authorities for permission. He acted as the owner, and one writer links that authority to the ban on carrying goods through the courts.
He entered the temple and acted with authority inside its courts, claiming it as His house... He would not let anyone treat the temple court as common ground. "He would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple." The house is sacred and its courts are holy. Everyone should respect that. The chief priests were false guardians of the holy place, and here they had failed completely. He, then, must maintain the holiness of God's house. For the house was His. Jehovah Himself, in the person of the Lord, was present.
The traders were selling. Other people were doing something far more ordinary: using the temple as a route to somewhere else. One writer shows why that mattered, and ties the holiness of the house to its reach.
He let no one pass through, or carry anything through the temple, making it just a passage for his own convenience. He kept God's house holy. He kept it holy as Jehovah's house — not as a convenience for Jewish pride. And as Jehovah's house, His Father's house, it had all its wide claim and value in His eyes: a house of prayer for all nations. The holiness of God's house is what gives it its reach. Holiness is what makes it God's own house, so His claim covers everyone, and it is a claim of grace.
The temple was meant to welcome people from every nation. Trade drove those seekers away, and there were good-sounding reasons for allowing it.
The Jews would doubtless have supplied good reasons for permitting these abominations. Did not the strangers need to change their various currencies? Were not the doves a necessity for the very poorest, who could afford no larger sacrifice? But the whole thing had been debased into a money-making concern. A man might travel far in search of God. When he reached the house, the dishonesty of the people connected with it could easily drive him away. The keepers of the house were a pack of thieves, and the Lord told them so. This stirred the scribes and priests to fury, and they decided on His death.
Commentators apply the scene forward. What greed did to the temple at Jerusalem, greed can do wherever God has a house.
God's house is where He comes near to people, and where people can come near to Him. People who professed religion had corrupted it into a way of feeding their greed. What the leaders in Israel did, the leaders in the Christian assembly could do too, but for the grace of God... So we learn that the flesh never changes. The same greed that corrupted the house of God at Jerusalem has pushed its way into the spiritual house of God, and corrupts it there.
The leaders did not welcome the cleansing. One writer contrasts what they cared about with what moved the Lord.
The leaders of the people ask by what authority He had purified the temple. There was no zeal in them for the holiness of God — plenty of zeal for their own authority... The Lord Jesus thought only about the authority of God, and what He did was the effect of it. If the rulers' conscience had not been hardened, they would have kept silent, even though they were not pleased with what the Lord had done. They would have been ashamed of the state of the temple under their care.
The cleansing sits next to the withered fig tree on purpose. Both are acts of assessment on a people whose outward show no longer matched anything inside.
The Lord likens them to a fig tree with a great show of "leaves" but no "fruit." Again they are called to repent, but all in vain. Their heart had gone away from God, so He sets them aside as a witness for Himself before men... Having set them aside, the Lord at once enters the house God had brought them back to build and keep. He casts out those who were corrupting it. Judgment begins at the house of God.
- Owner. He cleared the courts without asking anyone. The house was His, and its rightful Lord was standing in it.
- Holiness. The ban on carrying goods through hits convenience, not just profit. God's house is not a shortcut.
- Reach. That holiness gave the house its width. Because it was God's own house, His claim reached every nation — a claim of grace.
- Corruption. Greed turned the place of approach into a money-making concern. It drove the far-off seeker away instead of welcoming him. Commentators warn that the same greed can enter God's house today.
- Judgment. The withered fig tree and the emptied courts belong together. God sets aside fruitless profession, and judgment begins at the house of God.
And he taught saying to them, Is it not written, My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations? but *ye* have made it a den of robbers.
The day after riding into Jerusalem, Jesus drove the traders out of the temple and explained Himself with two lines from the prophets. Why does He call the place "My house," and why does prayer define it?
The chief priests were about to learn who He was.
But the chief priests were to learn about Him; and He entered the temple, exercised authority within its precincts, claiming it to be His house. The traffickers in things used in its service He cast out... He, then, must maintain the holiness of God's house. For the house was His. Jehovah Himself in the person of the Lord was present.
Sacrifices were offered there daily, yet that is not the name God chose for the place. One writer draws out what that naming reveals about God Himself.
God's house was a house of prayer. That was its moral character, not sacrifice. God did not name His house after sacrifice, though sacrifice was offered there. He named it in grace, for people who had needs. Where His presence and His ear were, there was a house of prayer. There people told God all their wants, and He received every grief and every need. And they had made it a den of thieves. Note this: the Lord marks the sin against the temple of God as a sin against the gracious character of God.
Mark alone records this clause in full, and it widens the house past Israel's borders.
God's thought in establishing His house at Jerusalem was that it might be a place of prayer for all nations. If any man, no matter what race he belonged to, was feeling after God, he might come to that house and get into touch with Him.
Holiness and the wide welcome are not separate concerns.
He kept God's house holy. He kept it holy as Jehovah's house, not as a convenience for Jewish pride. And because it was Jehovah's house, His Father's house, it held its full, wide claim and value in His eyes — a house of prayer for all nations. The holiness of God's house is what gives it this reach. Holiness makes it truly God's house, and His claim is over all; and it is a claim of grace.
The word behind "robbers" is a strong one.
(lestes) 'robber, bandit.' The Lord used this word of those who bought and sold in the temple... When the Lord was arrested, He asked if they had come out as against a robber.
The trade had grown out of a provision in the law.
The trading and money-changing in the temple had no doubt grown out of a kind provision in the law, which Deuteronomy 14:24-26 records. Wicked men took advantage of that provision and turned the temple courts into a den of thieves. God meant His temple to be the house where men came near to Him with their requests. Its guardians turned it into a place where men were cheated, and so they slandered the name of God.
Commentators differ here. Some read the clause as pointing forward to a future temple open to the nations; William Kelly argues from the way the other Gospels handle the quotation.
Neither Matthew nor Luke shows the Lord quoting the words about all the nations. Mark's full citation shows that He did quote the prophet's words in full. Yet the two Gospels that press hardest on the change from Israel to the Gentiles leave out "all nations". That omission is meant to show that no such application was in His mind then. What stood before His eyes was simply the gross twisting of Jehovah's house of prayer into a den of robbers.
Others carry the principle straight into the present, where God dwells among His people.
God always intended His house to be called "a house of prayer for all peoples" (Isa. 56:7). The temple in Jerusalem should have been that, as our Lord's words in Mark 11:17 show. How much more the house where God dwells today! But God's house has now taken a form in which the nations do not come to it to pray. Instead the believers who make up the house... take the place of prayer and intercession, with all people in view.
Exposing the evil brought one result, and it still does.
The Lord condemned this wickedness, and the only effect was to raise the most extreme opposition against Himself... In our own day, with corruption all through the Christian world, those who seek to follow the Lord and take any stand for the truth will meet some opposition too.
- His house. Jesus cleared the temple by claiming it as His own. Jehovah was present in person, keeping His own house holy.
- A house of prayer. God named it for prayer, not sacrifice: the place where people bring Him every need. Corrupting it is sin against His gracious character.
- For all nations. Holiness is what gives the house its reach; because it is truly God's, His claim extends over all, and it is a claim of grace.
- A den of robbers. Wicked men twisted a provision of the law for profit, cheated the seekers, and slandered God's name in His own courts.
- The cost of saying so. Naming the corruption brought the fiercest opposition on Him — and those who stand for the truth today will meet some of it too.
And the chief priests and the scribes heard [it], and they sought how they might destroy him; for they feared him, because all the crowd were astonished at his doctrine.
This verse closes a crowded day. Jesus had cursed a barren fig tree, then walked into the temple and driven out the traders. The reaction it records is not repentance but a plot — and the reason given for that plot is fear.
Mark marks out the events in order, and the men who ran the temple are reacting to something specific that had just happened in it.
With this, the fourth day was ended, and in the evening He went out of the city (11:19). The fig tree cursed and the temple cleansed, were the events of that day. The King had entered His capital. Jehovah had visited His house.
The traders had reasons ready. Travellers needed to change money, and the poorest worshippers needed doves to offer.
No doubt the Jews could have given good reasons for allowing these evils. Did not the visitors from abroad need to change their different currencies? Were not the doves a necessity for the very poorest, who could afford no larger sacrifice? But the whole thing had sunk into a money-making business. The crookedness of the men running the house could easily drive away a man who had come from far off to seek God. A terrible state of affairs! The keepers of the house were a pack of thieves, and the Lord told them so. This roused the scribes and priests to fury, and they decided on His death.
The crowd stands on one side of this verse and the officials on the other. The chief priests and scribes were the leaders and scholars of the religion of that day. Shallow as the people were, His words held them, while these men wanted the light put out.
God was not in their thoughts, but man; and self, not conscience, governed them. But what a picture! The righteous, chosen Servant, the Son of God, hated to death — and not by the crowd. They were thoughtless and fickle, yet they at least hung on His unusual words: words that vindicated God, that spoke goodness toward man, and that sternly rebuked the proud men who twisted sacred things. It was these men, the leaders of religion, the theologians of that day, who shrank back from the light of God and tried only to put it out.
The verse says they feared Him, and that fear shaped their method. His teaching had gripped the crowd, so they could not move against Him openly. The plot became a question of how.
The scribes and Pharisees hear it, and they do only what Satan does when he can do nothing else — look for a way to destroy. They were indeed playing his part now. They were afraid to act openly, but they still sought a way to do it, because they feared Him. The power of His word and ministry had swayed the crowd. The people were astonished, even if not converted. Afraid of what open action against Him would do to their standing before the people, the leaders looked for how.
Another writer ties their fear of people to the pride that will not bow to God.
They could do nothing until God allowed it. The Lord Jesus continued to act for God in the face of their resentment and hostility. The people paid attention to His words, and because of this the leaders were afraid to arrest Him in case it stirred up a riot. The fear of God meant little to them, but the fear of man and the pride of self-righteousness always go hand in hand.
His words had this effect all through Mark's Gospel. One writer follows the thread and links it to Jesus as the perfect servant.
Whenever He did speak, surely He spoke "with authority" (Mark 1:27; Mark 2:10; Mark 4:41; Mark 6:2; Mark 11:18). So even as a dependent man, a perfect servant, everything He said was "with authority." Again, "He whom God has sent utters the words of God" (John 3:34).
Naming the corruption in God's house brought hostility, not reform. One writer applies that to anyone who takes a stand for truth now.
The Lord condemned this wickedness, and the only effect was to stir up the most extreme opposition against Himself... And today, where the Christian world is corrupt, those who seek to follow the Lord and take any stand for the truth will meet opposition in some measure. "Truth is lacking, and he who departs from evil makes himself a prey" (Isa. 59:15).
- Visit. The King entered His capital; the Lord visited His house. This verse records the reception He got there.
- Exposure. He named the temple traffic for what it was; the men who ran it answered the charge with a plot, not repentance.
- Fear. They feared Him but not God. Fear of the crowd forced them to scheme in secret instead of acting openly.
- Authority. The crowd was astonished because His words carried authority. That mark is on everything He says in this Gospel.
- Cost. Truth that exposes corruption still draws opposition. Anyone who takes a stand should expect some of the same.
And when it was evening he went forth without the city.
Jesus has just cleansed the temple, and the chief priests are now hunting for a way to destroy Him. So why does the King spend His days teaching in Jerusalem, and none of His nights there?
The verse closes a crowded day. One writer lists what filled it, and what it stirred up in the leaders. He follows an older translation, which reads "He went out of the city" where the ESV has "they":
With this, the fourth day was ended, and in the evening He went out of the city (11:19). The fig tree cursed and the temple cleansed were the events of that day. The King had entered His capital. Jehovah had visited His house. John has told us the effect of the triumphal entry on the Pharisees (12:19). Both Mark and Luke have noticed the effect of the cleansing of the temple on the scribes and on the chief priests. "They sought to kill Him, for they feared Him, for all the people were astonished at His teaching" (11:18).
One writer asks what could hold Jesus in that city at all, and answers his own question:
What could keep Jesus in such a scene? It was all the more revolting because in name and responsibility it was "the holy city." Nothing but the errand of holy love on which He came. So, as night drew near and He had finished His work for that day, He withdraws once more outside the city. Who but the enemy could suggest the blasphemous thought that He stayed out because that city was too sacred for Him to rest on yet?
Mark records one evening, but this was His habit all through that last week:
The Saviour did not sleep in Jerusalem during the last sorrowful week, even though He carried on His daily ministry in that city. He was glad to escape its religious hypocrisy. Each evening He went out to Bethany, to refresh His spirit and to rest His body.
One writer treats the exit as a verdict, and Bethany as the answer to it:
As far as man's responsibility went, all was over, and the people stood judged. He will not stay in rebellious and unbelieving Jerusalem. He goes to Bethany, where the power of the resurrection had shown itself. There He can find an object and a refuge for His heart among men, after His people have rejected Him.
One writer sets the entry and the exit side by side:
He enters the city as Son of David. Everything that could display Him in that dignity surrounds and accompanies Him. He is in His earthly honour now, as He had been in His heavenly glory on the holy hill. It was His by right, and when the moment demanded it, He can wear it. But the unbelief of Jerusalem now changes the scene, as the unbelief of Samaria did before. He who had entered the city as her king has to leave it. He must seek a night's lodging, so to speak, wherever He could best find it. But there He is, outside Jerusalem, as before He had been outside the Samaritan village, knowing "how to be abased."
He leaves at evening, but He does come back. The same writer weighs what those return journeys now mean:
Bethany was His retreat at this time. Rejected, and therefore a stranger here, He finds His place in the family of faith that loved Him in the middle of the world's hostility. And He does come back again, from the village to the city, from Bethany to Jerusalem. Until now He came to renew and continue His service of love and power. Now He comes to expose and convict Israel, and leave them under condemnation.
- Rejected. The day of the cleansed temple ended with the leaders seeking to kill Him. He walked out of the city that had turned against Him.
- Refused. Only "the errand of holy love" kept Him in Jerusalem at all; He never stayed there overnight during that last week.
- Received. Bethany gave Him what the capital would not: a refuge, and a family of faith whose love answered His.
- Abased. The King who entered His capital in honour had to look elsewhere for a bed by nightfall — He knew "how to be abased."
- Returning. From now on His returns to the city change: no longer service of love, but exposing Israel and leaving them under condemnation.
And passing by early in the morning they saw the fig-tree dried up from the roots.
The next morning the disciples take the same road to Jerusalem. They see what the Lord's word of the day before had done: a tree not just wilting, but dead to its roots. Two questions follow. Why did the One who healed and fed people curse a tree? And what were the disciples meant to learn?
The tree was not judged for failing out of season. Its own growth pattern explains why.
A fig tree grows its fruit before its leaves. So where there were leaves, there should have been fruit on the fig tree the Lord cursed, even though the usual fig season had not come. This pictured Israel. Scripture had compared Israel to a fig tree bearing its first-ripe figs, Hosea 9:10. But in the days of the Lord, Israel had plenty of leaves. The nation claimed to be God's favoured people, yet it produced no real fruit for Him. Luke 13:6-7. As a nation in the flesh, no fruit will ever be found on it.
The detail Mark records is the direction the death travelled.
Coming into the city the next morning, they saw the fig tree the Lord had spoken to, dried up from the roots. The blight that had fallen on it worked against nature, which would have withered the tree from the top downwards. This showed it to be an act of God. Peter was struck by it and pointed it out, and so invited the Lord to comment on what had happened.
Every other work of Jesus gave something away. This one took something away, and commentators treat that oddity as the key to its meaning.
It is important to notice that here the Lord's miracles are not only a sign and proof of power. They also show the goodness that was acting in divine power. This is what gives the true divine character to the miracles of Jesus. All His works are the fruit of love, and they bear witness to the God of love on the earth. There is only one apparent exception, and even that proves the point. The exception is the cursing of the fig tree. But this was a picture of the people Israel, and you may say of human nature too, under God's cultivation, which produced no fruit — only leaves, that is, hypocrisy.
If the sentence was "never again," does Israel have any future?
Does this mean that Israel can never be restored? No, it does not. A tree may die, and in that first state it never bears fruit again. Yet "there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and that its shoots will not cease; though its root grows old in the earth, and its stump dies in the ground" (Job 14:7-8). Israel will rise again, in a different state from the one that brought her to ruin. This will truly be "life from the dead" (Romans 11:15).
Peter's remark draws out the Lord's lesson. The mountain thrown into the sea points to the nation the fig tree pictured.
The fig tree stood for the people in their religious show, now plainly empty, and judged by Him whose right it was and still is. So "this mountain" seems to mean their "place and nation," which in their unbelief they fought hard to keep under Roman protection. ("We have no king but Caesar.") It looked strong in Jewish eyes. But before the faith of the disciples it was doomed.
The lesson was practical. A few fishermen faced the whole religious establishment.
On the surface, those who opposed the Lord and His teaching held all the power and authority of the established order. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God." All the power of the people pictured by the barren fig tree would vanish before the power of God used by faith… though the mountain would be removed, God would remain, the unfailing resource for faith.
The Lord ties this confidence to one thing in the one who prays.
Believing prayer! What results may come from it! What mighty deeds may be accomplished! A mountain removed, and the heart realises the power of faith. But such prayer can only come from someone at peace with those who have offended him. There must be a forgiving spirit before the prayer of faith can be presented to God.
- Root cause. Leaves without figs made a false promise. The tree, and the nation it pictured, offered fruit it did not have.
- Root judgment. The death spread up from the roots, against nature. That marked the withering as God's own act, not decay.
- Root exception. Every other miracle of Jesus did good. This one act of judgment fell on a religion of leaves without fruit.
- Root revived. The tree in its old state bears nothing again, yet writers point to a future for Israel that is "life from the dead."
- Root of power. Faith in God topples what looks immovable. But the heart that prays must first forgive.
And Peter, remembering [what Jesus had said], says to him, Rabbi, see, the fig-tree which thou cursedst is dried up.
A day later Peter walks the same road and sees the tree the Lord had spoken to, dead from the roots up. Why did a withered plant shock him, and why did the Lord answer his remark with a lesson about faith?
The tree withered overnight because Jesus had spoken. One writer asks whether that should have surprised Peter at all:
Next morning, as the Lord and His disciples passed the spot again, they saw the fig tree dried up from the roots. But should this have surprised the apostle? Was there not power in the words of Jesus for even greater wonders still? For the voice that cursed the fruitless fig tree was the same voice that ages before said, "Let there be light," and there was light (Gen. 1:3).
Mark notes which way the withering ran. That detail shows whose hand was in it:
The blight that fell on the tree worked in a way that was contrary to nature. Nature would have withered it from the top downwards. This fact showed it to be an act of God. Peter was struck by it and pointed it out, and so he invited the Lord to comment on what had happened.
The judgment looks harsh until you know how a fig grows. Fruit comes first, leaves afterward:
The fruit comes before the leaves. So where there were leaves, there should have been fruit on the fig tree the Lord cursed, even though the usual fig season had not arrived. This was a picture of Israel... but in the days of the Lord, Israel had plenty of leaves. The people claimed to be the nation God favoured, yet they produced no real fruit for Him.
Every other work of Jesus was a work of love. This one looks like the exception, and one writer explains why it is not:
All His works are the fruit of love, and bear witness to the God of love upon the earth. There is only one apparent exception... the cursing of the fig tree. But the tree stood for the people of Israel, and you could say for human nature too. God cultivated it, and it bore no fruit. There were only leaves, that is, hypocrisy. So He judged and condemned it, and it will never bear fruit again... Man must be born again — must be created again in Christ Jesus.
Peter addresses Him as "Rabbi." Here is what that word meant to the people who used it:
A title of respect among the Jews, signifying "master, teacher"... People applied it to the Lord too, though the King James Version often translates it as "master."
Peter asked no question. But the Lord's answer to Simon (Peter's other name) shows how He heard him:
Peter's remark was not put in the form of a question, but it seems to have had much of a question about it. We gather this from the Lord's reply. Simon only said, "The fig tree that You cursed has withered!" Yet the Lord took His servant's remark to mean, "Lord, what is the lesson we are to learn from this remarkable act of judgment?"
The answer aims at what the disciples had been leaning on:
They tended to put their faith in things they could see: in the system of law given through Moses, in the temple, in themselves as a people, or in their priests and leaders. We have exactly the same tendency... all such things fail, but God remains. He is faithful, and He remains as the Object of faith when a curse falls upon our cherished little fig tree. The word is literally, "Have the faith of God." It is as though the Lord says to us, "Hold on to the faithfulness of God, no matter what may wither up and disappear."
The Lord goes on to speak of moving "this mountain." One writer asks what that mountain stood for, and what must go with faith:
The fig tree stood for the people and their religious show, now clearly empty... so "this mountain" seems to mean instead their "place and nation"... It looked strong in Jewish eyes, but before the faith of the disciples it was doomed... This is the declared power of faith. But there is another requirement: the spirit of gracious forgiveness toward anyone who has wronged or otherwise offended us.
- Word. The tree withered because Jesus spoke; the same voice once said, "Let there be light."
- Root. It died from the roots up, against nature — the mark of God's own hand.
- Leaves. Figs come before leaves, so a leafy tree owed fruit. God judged a show of leaves with nothing behind it.
- Question. Peter only exclaimed, but the Lord answered him as though he had asked what it all meant.
- Faith. Stop trusting what looks solid; trust God, who never fails. And forgive, because faith and forgiveness go together.
And Jesus answering says to them, Have faith in God.
Peter points to the fig tree the Lord had cursed, now dead from the roots. The reply is not an explanation of the miracle but a command about God. What kind of faith is meant, what is the "mountain" that faith moves, and how far do the promises attached to it reach?
The men who opposed the Lord held all the power. The disciples held none. One writer sets the scene:
The Lord teaches His disciples the great principle. It enables the weakest believer to overcome the greatest difficulty and the most cunning opponent. Outwardly all the power and authority of the established order was in the hands of those who were opposing the Lord and His teaching. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God."
The phrase is unusual in Greek, and the wording matters. It is not confidence in general, warmed up by religion; it is faith defined by the One it looks at:
"Have faith in God" in Mark 11:22 is in Greek "the faith of God"; that is, it has God for its object.
William Kelly compares Mark's wording with Matthew's, and points to who needs it most:
The Master's answer was, "Have faith in God" — a more pointed form of speech than the one in the Gospel of Matthew, and of the gravest importance for the servants of God when they face the guilt and ruin of what seems finest, or at least is most valued among men.
Commentators read "this mountain" as something specific, not as any hardship at random:
The fig tree stood for the people and their religious show, now clearly empty, and judged by Him whose right it was and is. So "this mountain" seems to mean rather their "place and nation." In their unbelief they worked hard to keep that nation under Roman protection. ("We have no king but Caesar.") It stood strong in Jewish eyes. But before the faith of the disciples it was doomed, soon to be violently torn up and lost in the sea of the Gentiles.
Hamilton Smith adds that the mountain would go, but the resource would not: "though the mountain would be removed, God would remain, the unfailing resource for faith" (Hamilton Smith).
If faith has God as its object, then it moves with God. It does not give orders of its own:
It is certainly not that faith decides what it wants to do. Faith rather depends on the will of God. God had decided that the fig tree (Israel) would wither: faith therefore could act on God's will in the matter... For faith makes no independent decisions: it simply trusts the word and will of God.
Yet the promise itself stays wide. Commentators warn against cutting it down:
The promise here, of course, applies in many different ways. It would be entirely wrong to limit it in any way, except as the Lord Himself does. He clearly makes His last assurance as full as possible. To faith nothing shall be denied. But it is no limitation to insist that faith must be faith.
The passage does not end with mountains. It ends with grudges, and commentators treat that as part of the same instruction:
He assures His disciples that whatever they asked in faith would be done. But to secure this they must walk and act in grace, if they want to enjoy this privilege... I have no doubt why we so often get no answers to our prayers. Our hearts are not right before God in this respect. Someone keeps an old grudge alive instead of dropping it for good.
Another writer pictures the failure: "Two brothers kneel in the same prayer meeting... but they have hard and unforgiving thoughts towards each other; their prayers are vain and empty words" (J T Mawson).
- Object — The Greek says "the faith of God." It is faith with God Himself as its object, not confidence in yourself.
- Occasion — A dead fig tree prompted the words. The lesson was for men with no power, facing rulers who held it all.
- Mountain — Commentators read "this mountain" as Israel's place and nation. It would soon be torn up and lost in the sea of the Gentiles.
- Limits — Faith makes no decisions of its own. It trusts the word and will of God. And no one may narrow the promise the Lord gave.
- Condition — Faith towards God comes with forgiveness towards others. An old grudge explains many unanswered prayers.
Verily I say to you, that whosoever shall say to this mountain, Be thou taken away and cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, but believe that what he says takes place, whatever he shall say shall come to pass for him.
Peter points out the fig tree Jesus had cursed, now dead from the roots up. The Lord's reply turns it into a lesson about what faith can move, and it raises two questions: what is "this mountain," and how far does the promise reach?
The Lord gives this promise to men with no power of their own.
The Lord teaches His disciples the great principle that enables the weakest believer to overcome the greatest difficulty and the cleverest opponent. On the surface, those who opposed the Lord and His teaching held all the power and authority of the established order. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God."
The phrase that opens the Lord's answer carries another possible rendering.
"Have faith in God" can also read "faith of God" — that is, Divine faith. Compare Paul's phrase "righteousness of God."
The mountain image was not new. God had used it before, when His people faced a ruler who stopped their building work.
The king of Persia had commanded the work to stop. He might look like a great mountain, an obstacle God's people could never move. But God says to them for their encouragement, "Who are you, O great mountain? Before Zerubbabel you shall become a plain." Later, when on earth, the Lord Jesus said to His disciples, "Have faith in God; for truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea' … it will be done for him" (Mark 11:22-23). When faith rests its eye on God, the great mountain becomes a plain.
One reading takes the mountain as a specific obstacle in front of the disciples that day. History then shows what happened to it.
Of course the Lord is not speaking of a literal mountain. "This mountain" is the obstacle of Israel's condition at the time, just as the fig tree pictured her condition. The obstacle was Israel's opposition to the Lord Jesus. Its removal into the sea took place not long after the death of Christ. The nation was driven from her land and swallowed up in the sea of the Gentile nations.
Others read the mountain more broadly, as a picture of any obstacle.
The mountain is the type of an obstacle. Every obstacle can be and will be removed out of the way in answer to prayer. That there is a reference to Israel in these words is no doubt true. The nation was a mountain. By its disobedience and rejection of the Lord, it was an obstacle in the path of the Gospel.
Some would cut this promise down to size. One writer refuses, while keeping the one condition the Lord Himself attaches.
But the promise here has many applications. It would be quite wrong to limit it in any way, except as the Lord Himself does. He makes His last assurance as full as possible. To faith nothing shall be denied; but it is not limitation to insist that faith must be faith.
The promise is not an invitation to test whether it works.
Genuine, God-given faith, not mystical or imagined faith, is what is meant here. Many have probably tried this promise out as an experiment, only to be disappointed. Muhammad, it is said, had the nerve to order a mountain to come to him. When everyone could see his folly, he tried to escape the shame by saying, "If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, Muhammad will go to the mountain." But God does not give His promises, or the power of His Spirit, for curious experiments or for serving private ends.
So faith and God's will belong together.
Faith does not decide what it wants to do. Instead, faith depends on the will of God… Faith that leans on God in dependence could discern what God had decided, and so speak of it beforehand. For faith makes no decisions of its own: it trusts the word and will of God.
- Source — the Lord's answer opens with "have faith in God." The phrase can also read as divine faith: faith that comes from God and rests on Him.
- Sight — the nation and its religious order looked immovable. Faith saw it already on its way into the sea of the nations. A mountain becomes a plain when faith rests its eye on God.
- Scope — commentators differ on whether "this mountain" means Israel or any obstacle. They agree it is wrong to shrink the promise. To faith nothing shall be denied.
- Standard — the one limit is the Lord's own: faith must be faith. It is genuine and God-given, never mystical, imagined, or an experiment.
- Submission — faith makes no decisions of its own. It does not choose the mountain. It discerns God's will from His word and then speaks with no doubt in the heart.
For this reason I say to you, All things whatsoever ye pray for and ask, believe that ye receive it, and it shall come to pass for you.
The Lord speaks these words the morning after He cursed the barren fig tree. Peter had just pointed out that it withered from the roots. The promise that follows is very wide. It makes us ask what believing really means here.
The disciples were a small group. They faced the whole religious establishment. The promise answers that helplessness.
The Lord teaches His disciples the great principle. It lets the weakest believer overcome the hardest difficulty and the cleverest opponent. On the surface, the men who opposed the Lord and His teaching held all the power. How then were a few poor fishermen to stand against the wisdom and power of men in high places? The Lord's answer is, "Have faith in God."
One writer looks past the promise itself to what would happen to Israel as a nation.
We may well see here a hidden promise about Israel. Israel was now only an obstacle in the path of faith, and as a nation it would disappear among the nations. But this promise applies in many ways. It would be quite wrong to limit it, except as the Lord Himself does. He makes His closing promise as full as He can. Nothing will be denied to faith. Yet it is no limit to insist that faith must be real faith.
One writer weighs the two words that make the promise so broad.
"Whoever says … and does not doubt in his heart, but believes … it will be done for him." The whoever and the whatever make this a very sweeping statement. It almost takes our breath away. But it is connected with the prayer described in the next verse. In both these verses everything clearly hinges on the believing.
One writer refuses to set a limit where Scripture sets none. He applies the promise to everyday needs as well as spiritual ones.
I believe this is true of every spiritual blessing we need. And it is not limited to the spiritual. "Whatever you ask" sets no limit, and I refuse to add one where Scripture does not… The Lord often uses our daily needs to teach us. When faith prays to Him about them, we learn to pray and trust Him about the deeper spiritual needs.
Everything turns on the word "believe." So we need to know what belief is.
Belief is faith. Faith is not something we produce ourselves. It is not make-believe or imagination. Verse 24 does not mean that if I can work myself up to imagine I receive what I ask for, then I do receive it… Faith is the God-given power in me that receives God's Word. Faith is the eye of the soul, which receives and appreciates divine light.
One writer points to a confidence God Himself gives about one particular thing. He also warns against testing the promise.
Scripture recognises specific faith about a specific thing… This may be the special kind of faith the Lord means when He says, "whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours" (Mark 11:24). Genuine, divinely given faith, not mystical or imagined faith, is what is meant here. Many have tried this promise as an experiment, only to be disappointed… But God does not give His promises and the power of His Spirit for us to experiment with, or to use for our own private ends.
One writer takes the verse as a rule for all prayer, not a blank cheque for our own wishes.
Mark 11:24 gives the principle on which we are to pray in every case… all prayer should be with faith. Praying in the Holy Spirit is now tied to Christ's words staying in us… As a rule, the Holy Spirit will keep those words in our mind, if our hearts are right.
The same writer allows both realities: that God may give a specific assurance, and that our own will can distort a request.
It is always right to bring what we ask to Him, subject to His will… And the answer will be more glorious and blessed than what we asked, even when it is not the answer we wanted. Let us trust His love, and it will not fall short. If He has given us faith to expect a specific answer, let us bless God for it. Only our own will must not come in… But where there is earnest faith, God will hear, though He may guard us against our own will in it.
One writer ties believing prayer to how we hold our feelings towards other people.
If I hold a grudge against anyone, I do not have a good conscience towards God… I must be "without anger" as much as "without doubting" if I want to receive good things from God's hand.
- Faith in God — what counts is who you trust, not how hard you try. "Have faith in God" is the Lord's answer to a handful of fishermen facing an immovable system.
- Faith receives — believing is not working yourself up to imagine an answer. It is the soul taking in what God has said.
- Faith is given — God grants a specific faith about a specific thing. The promise is not there for us to experiment with.
- Faith submits — "whatever" has no limit, but our own will must not come in. Where He assures us of a specific answer, bless Him for it.
- Faith forgives — believing prayer goes with a heart that holds no grudge: without anger, as much as without doubting.
And when ye stand praying, forgive if ye have anything against any one, that your Father also who is in the heavens may forgive you your offences.
Jesus had cursed a fruitless fig tree the day before. The next morning Peter pointed out that it had withered, and the Lord turned the moment into a lesson on faith and prayer. Before He tells the disciples what prayer can move, He names what must move in them first: anything they hold against someone else.
The withered tree pictured a religious system that had failed, and the "mountain" the disciples were told they could move stood for the nation that looked immovable to them. One writer traces how the Lord's promise about faith runs straight into a second requirement:
The fig tree symbolized the people in their religious pretensions, now clearly empty, and so judged by Him whose right it was and is. So "this mountain" seems to mean rather their "place and nation," which in their unbelief they worked hard to keep under Roman protection... Strong as it stood in Jewish eyes, before the faith of the disciples it was doomed, and soon to be violently uprooted and lost in the sea of Gentiles. Such is the declared power of faith. But one more thing is needed, and faith itself would produce it: the spirit of gracious forgiveness toward anyone who might have wronged or otherwise offended us.
The Lord ties two things together in one sentence, and one writer takes the pair into the prayer meeting:
Two things are necessary if our prayers are to be heard and answered: faith towards God and forgiveness towards all others. The Lord Himself has joined them together in these memorable words, and we must not separate what He has joined together... Two brothers kneel in the same prayer meeting. Their being there shows that they have some faith in God. But they have hard and unforgiving thoughts towards each other, and their prayers are empty words.
The promise about faith comes with a moral condition, and one writer names what it costs to ignore it:
He assures His disciples that whatever they asked in faith would be done. But to make sure of this they must walk and act in grace, if they would enjoy this privilege. If you pray for something to be done, there must be forgiveness "if you have anything against anyone." I have no doubt why we so often get no answers to our prayers. Our hearts are not right before God in this respect. We keep up some old grudge instead of dismissing it for ever.
The verse says "your Father who is in heaven." The Lord is speaking to people already in that relationship. So the forgiveness here is a father's dealing with his children, not the settling of eternal guilt:
In the heavenly Father's holy government of His children, the unforgiving spirit comes under His discipline. If someone commits an offence against us and we refuse to forgive, we will miss God's governmental forgiveness. This is not a question of forgiveness for eternity. Those He was speaking to were disciples, and for them that great matter was already settled.
So what is lost is nearness to God, and a second writer shows how deep that loss goes:
If we do not forgive, we are not forgiven as children. Communion with God our Father is put on hold. His Spirit within us is grieved. To go on as though all were right is presumption; it is insincerity and displeasing to God. True prayer is communion with God. It is speaking to Him with the confidence of a heart that does not condemn us.
"Anyone" leaves no one out, and a forgiving heart is not the same as pretending wrong never happened:
Whoever it may be that we have anything against, we must have a thoroughly forgiving spirit toward them. This does not mean that God's assembly should restore them to fellowship while they continue in sinful disobedience. But our personal attitude must be one of willingness to forgive. If it is not so, how can we expect God to forgive our own trespasses and answer our prayers favourably?
The posture in the verse is simply the ordinary one of the people the Lord was speaking to:
Standing was, and remains, the usual posture of Jews in prayer... The scriptural postures are either standing (Abraham, in Gen. 18:22; compare Jer. 15:1, of Moses and Samuel), or kneeling (Solomon, Daniel, our Lord in Luke 22:41, Stephen, Peter, Paul).
- Faith first. Mountain-moving prayer rests on faith in God, and that same faith produces a spirit that forgives.
- Forgiveness with it. The Lord joined believing prayer and a forgiving heart; we are not free to separate them.
- Father, not Judge. The forgiveness at stake is a father's dealing with his children. The eternal question is already settled for those who believe.
- Communion is the cost. An unforgiving heart puts fellowship with the Father on hold. Praying on as if all were well is insincerity.
- No exceptions. "Anyone" means anyone. The willingness to forgive must be personal, whoever the offender is.