Under the Fig Tree
Updated: Aug 22
As is no doubt the case with many young Christian men, Paul Washer is something of a spiritual father to me. I’ve never met Washer, but one day, I most certainly will. And on that day, I look forward to thanking him, in Christ, for the great spiritual blessing he has been to me throughout the years.
Indeed, I feel towards Paul Washer that particular kind of affection reserved for those godly men who, despite their weakness and frailty, were used mightily by God to preach Christ’s glorious strength, worth, and love in a world increasingly parched of all three.
I even remember the first time I heard Washer’s name. I was a new believer, only sixteen at the time, and I was out for coffee with an older brother in Christ who had come alongside me as a mentor not long after my conversion. This mentor—who also happened to be my older cousin—would consistently either quote or reference Washer in many of our conversations. And, more than that, every time Washer was brought up in response to some question of mine or a topic we were discussing, his words always seemed deeply insightful and thoroughly Biblical. So much so that it took me no time at all to ask my cousin exactly who this Washer guy was.
I didn’t fully realize it at the time, but the Lord, it would seem, determined that both these men, Washer and my cousin, were to play a significant role in my life from that point onwards.
Henceforth, Washer became a permanent fixture in my spiritual diet alongside the other godly men I found myself rubbing shoulders with—C.S. Lewis, A.W. Tozer, R.C. Sproul, and, of course, the three Johns (Piper, MacArthur, and Edwards).
Speaking of the Puritan Jonathan Edwards, perhaps I can linger on him for a moment. Among those who are largely unfamiliar with both Washer and Edwards, there seems to be something of an unfair characterization of and between the two. Both men rose to something resembling prominence in the Christian world over what might be called “Doom and Gloom” or “Fire and Brimstone” sermons—Edwards for his 18th-century classic, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” and Washer for his viral YouTube sermon, suitably titled, “Shocking Youth Message.” Both sermons have been either read or listened to many millions of times.
I said there is an unfair characterization of these men—and subsequently between these men—because many folks unfamiliar with their life’s ministry may walk away with the assumption that Edwards and Washer love nothing better than to heap fire and brimstone upon their listeners at every available opportunity.
Now, are Edwards and Washer concerned with holiness, righteousness, and genuine repentance? Most certainly they are—as, might I add, Christ likewise is. The mistake, however, would be to imagine that just because the holiness of God and impending judgment is their concern, even their chief concern, that this means judgment is somehow their sole concern. I would argue, as many others already have, that the motivating factor behind Jonathan Edwards’ vigour for preaching on the horrors of Hell and God’s judgment flows directly out of his passion for the glory and loveliness of Christ. In my estimation, the very same can be said of Paul Washer.
Indeed, in those first few months as a young Christian, I was struck by the overwhelming beauty of Christ by those aforementioned men, Edwards and Washer chief among them. As a high school student, I would sometimes walk laps around the halls during lunch hour with a Paul Washer sermon playing through my headphones—not because I relished being ground into spiritual pulp, but because I was enamoured by the whole Christ who he preached: a Christ who is gentle as well as holy, and full of love just as He is brimming with righteous wrath. I wanted nothing more than to know this Christ even as I was fully known by Him.
And how does one come to know Christ better? The great lesson I learned from Washer as a young believer was that nothing could substitute daily, intentional time with the Lord—“We are only as strong as the time we spend with God in His word and in prayer.”
As impactful as Washer’s words are, there’s actually nothing new here. The New Testament consistently puts forward that “faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17), and that “we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). We as believers see the living Word of God, Jesus, through the eyes of faith as we read the word of God, the Bible.
We see an image of this in the first Psalm, where the godly man, in direct contrast to the wicked, is depicted as a tree that yields much fruit as he refreshes himself in the Lord:
“Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers” (Psalm 1:1-3).
We see another image of faithful devotion to God’s word in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment found in John 1. In this encounter, we stumble upon a scene of seeking and finding. Jesus has just begun His public ministry and makes His way to Galilee, where He finds Philip. Philip, in turn and according to his custom, then finds his friend Nathanael. “We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph,” says Philip (John 1:45). Nathanael, however, is skeptical: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Oh Philip—everything good has come out of Nazareth. Everything.
All of Nathanael’s doubts fade away when he actually comes face to face with the Lord. Upon their meeting in Galilee—though was it indeed their first meeting?—Jesus says to Nathanael, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!” Philip is gobsmacked. “How do you know me?” he asks. Jesus responds: “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you” (John 1:47-48).
Now, what is the significance of the fig tree? In his chapter on Nathanael in Twelve Ordinary Men, John MacArthur provides a helpful and likely explanation:
“It was most likely the place where Nathanael went to study and meditate on Scripture. Houses in that culture were mostly small, one-room affairs. Most of the cooking was done inside, so a fire was kept burning even in the summer. The house could get full of smoke and stuffy. Trees were planted around houses to keep them cool and shaded. One of the best trees to plant near a house was a fig tree, because it bore wonderful fruit and gave good shade... If you wanted to escape the noise and stifling atmosphere of the house, you could go outside and rest under its shade. It was a kind of private outdoor place, perfect for meditation, reflection, and solitude.”
Nathanael likely had a unique spiritual experience earlier that day as he meditated under the fig tree. This encounter with God’s word was so profound that, upon hearing Jesus’ words, Nathanael rightly concluded that the voice which just spoke to him and the word of God which earlier so pricked him under the fig tree were indeed one and the very same.
Today, and particularly here in the West, very few of us are confined to smoky, stuffy, one-room homes. Yet, we have our own distractions—do we not? And, more than that, life can feel crowded and stuffy in even the very best of times.
In light of these realities, be sure to find your fig tree. Find and forge that place where you can be alone with the Lord; where you can sup with Him, fellowship with Him, delight in Him, and even wrestle with Him—be it in a book-bound study, a cozy corner of the couch as the sun rises (but before the children rise), or during a walk at some point in the day.
I’ve learned much from the many godly men God has placed throughout my life, but none more so than my father. In and out of season, I never failed to find him in the Word during those early morning hours. Whether in the pale light of spring or in the thick dark of winter, my father remained consistent and steadfast in his daily Bible devotions. As I remember him even now, I can picture his shadowy form sitting in our sunroom; the rising mists of freshly brewed coffee ebbing between his own silhouette and the dimly lit forms of our two German shepherds as they sat by his feet, the audio Bible trickling from his phone like a gently rushing stream.
It was my father’s devotion to the word of God, above all else he taught me, that most shaped my spiritual life and character. “Never substitute genuine time spent with Christ and His word for religious busyness,” he once told me.
Indeed, seek Christ, not a checklist. One day we will see Jesus face to face, where we will see and know even as we are both seen and known—just not quite yet. Until that day, let us forge well-worn paths through the Word in joyful fellowship with Him. Indeed, let us spend fruitful time under the fig tree and in His word such that, in and out of season, we too may bear much fruit. When He comes, let us be found under the fig tree and about His business, and not as those wicked servants who, supposing their Master was delayed, grew slothful in their duties.
For the most terrifying words in all of Scripture are those reserved for the Christless busybodies who supposed that their good words and religiosity could earn them favour with a holy God—“On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness’” (Matthew 7:22-23). Contrast these dark, dreadful words with the sweetness found in Jesus’ warm address of Nathanael: “When you were under the fig tree, I saw you.”
“I come to the garden alone
while the dew is still on the roses,
and the voice I hear falling on my ear,
the Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
and He tells me I am his own;
and the joy we share as we tarry there,
none other has ever known.”
Photo by Jametlene Reskp, Unsplash
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