A Tree, A Temple, and A Mountain Text: Matthew 21:18-22
Introduction: Props on the Divine Stage
We live in a sentimental age. Our generation wants a Jesus who is endlessly affirming, perpetually gentle, and who would never, ever get cross with anybody. They want a Jesus who is a divine life coach, not a sovereign Lord. They want a Savior who makes suggestions, not a King who issues decrees. And when they come to a passage like this one, they tend to get very uncomfortable. Jesus, hungry and perhaps a bit grumpy, curses a fig tree for not having any figs, even though, as Mark tells us, it was not the season for figs. This seems arbitrary, doesn't it? It seems like an overreaction. It seems, to our modern sensibilities, unfair to the tree.
But this is because we have forgotten how to read our Bibles. We treat the Scriptures like a flat collection of moralistic fables instead of what it is: the unfolding drama of redemption, orchestrated by a sovereign God who is not shy about using object lessons. This isn't a story about Jesus having a moment of horticultural frustration. This is a prophetic sign-act. The fig tree is a prop on the divine stage, and Jesus, the director of all history, is using it to make a point that is as sharp as a sword. He has just entered Jerusalem to the shouts of "Hosanna," He has just cleansed the Temple, and now He is walking from Bethany back into the city. Everything He does in this week leading up to the cross is charged with covenantal significance.
The cursing of the fig tree is not an isolated incident; it is an acted-out parable sandwiched around the cleansing of the Temple. In Mark's account, He curses the tree, goes into Jerusalem to clean house, and then the next day, on the way back, the disciples see that the tree has withered from the roots. The two events are inextricably linked. The tree is a symbol, and the Temple is the reality. The sin of the tree is the sin of the Temple. The judgment on the tree is the judgment coming upon the Temple.
This passage, therefore, is about much more than a piece of botany. It is about religious hypocrisy, the nature of true faith, the authority of Christ, and the coming judgment upon a covenant-breaking nation. It is a warning that a mere profession of faith, a show of religious leaves, is not only inadequate but is an invitation to the curse of God. And it is a promise that true, mountain-moving faith is the instrument by which God will establish His kingdom in the ruins of the old.
The Text
Now in the morning, when He was returning to the city, He became hungry. And seeing a lone fig tree by the road, He came to it and found nothing on it except leaves only; and He said to it, “No longer shall there ever be any fruit from you.” And at once the fig tree withered. And seeing this, the disciples marveled, saying, “How did the fig tree wither all at once?” And Jesus answered and said to them, “Truly I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ it will happen. And all things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive.”
(Matthew 21:18-22 LSB)
A Promising Tree and a Prophetic Curse (vv. 18-19)
We begin with the setup for this dramatic sign-act.
"Now in the morning, when He was returning to the city, He became hungry. And seeing a lone fig tree by the road, He came to it and found nothing on it except leaves only; and He said to it, 'No longer shall there ever be any fruit from you.' And at once the fig tree withered." (Matthew 21:18-19)
First, notice the humanity of Jesus. He became hungry. The eternal Word, through whom all things were made, condescended to experience genuine human appetite. This is not incidental. His hunger drives Him to the tree, setting the stage for the lesson. Second, He sees a "lone fig tree." This tree stands out. It's making a statement. In that part of the world, a fig tree that has leaves is advertising that it also has fruit. The fruit appears before or at the same time as the leaves. So this tree was a hypocrite. It had the outward appearance of fruitfulness, all the leafy profession, but it was barren. It was a fraud.
This is a perfect picture of first-century Israel, and particularly its leadership in Jerusalem. The Temple was bustling. The sacrifices were being made. The priests were adorned in their fine linen. The scribes were debating the finer points of the law. There were leaves everywhere, a great rustling of religious activity. But where was the fruit? Where was justice, mercy, and faithfulness? Where was the fruit of repentance that John the Baptist had demanded? Israel was a nation that professed to know God, but in works, they denied Him. They had the form of godliness but had denied its power. They were all leaves and no figs.
So Jesus, the Lord of the covenant, comes to His people, symbolized by this tree, looking for fruit. And finding none, He pronounces a curse. "No longer shall there ever be any fruit from you." This is a sentence of permanent barrenness. And the effect is immediate: "at once the fig tree withered." This is a judicial act. This is not a fit of pique. It is a deliberate, prophetic judgment. What Jesus did to this tree in a moment, God was about to do to the entire Temple system over the next forty years, culminating in the utter destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70. The Jewish religious establishment, having rejected its Messiah, was about to be cursed and wither away. The kingdom of God was being taken from them and given to a nation bearing the fruits of it, the international church of Jesus Christ.
This is a terrifying warning against religious pretense. God is not impressed with our programs, our buildings, our budgets, or our busy-ness if there is no genuine fruit of righteousness. Fruit comes from the root. As Jesus teaches elsewhere, a good tree produces good fruit and a bad tree produces bad fruit. The problem with this tree was not its leaves; the problem was its nature. The problem with apostate Israel was not a lack of religious observance, but a heart that was far from God. And so it is with any church or any individual who is content with the mere appearance of life. Such profession without possession invites the curse of God.
Astonishment and Instruction (vv. 20-21)
The disciples, as they often are, are slow on the uptake. They see the miracle but miss the meaning.
"And seeing this, the disciples marveled, saying, 'How did the fig tree wither all at once?' And Jesus answered and said to them, 'Truly I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ it will happen.'" (Matthew 21:20-21 LSB)
They are amazed at the speed and power of the curse. "How did it wither all at once?" They are focused on the "how" of the power, and Jesus redirects them to the "what" of their own calling. He uses their astonishment as a teachable moment about the nature of faith. He says that the kind of faith He is calling them to is capable of far more than withering a single tree.
Now, we must be careful here. The health-and-wealth charlatans have seized upon verses like this and turned them into a blank check for whatever trinkets their covetous hearts can dream up. They treat faith as a magical force we use to bend reality to our will. But that is the very opposite of what Jesus is teaching. Biblical faith is not about getting God to do what we want. It is about aligning our will with what God is doing. It is trust in His person, His promises, and His purposes.
So what is this "mountain" Jesus is talking about? Is He giving them a literal instruction to start practicing geological exorcisms? Of course not. He is standing on the Mount of Olives, looking across the Kidron Valley at Jerusalem, which is built on Mount Zion. The "mountain" in view is the mountain of the Temple. It was the center of the old covenant world, the symbol of Israel's entire religious and political establishment. It seemed immovable, permanent, divinely established forever. But Jesus says that the faith He gives will see that entire system "taken up and cast into the sea." The sea, in apocalyptic language, is a symbol of the Gentile nations, of chaos and judgment. Jesus is telling His disciples that through their faith and their apostolic ministry, the old covenant order of the Temple and its mountain would be dismantled and thrown into the sea of God's judgment, and a new kingdom would be established.
And this is precisely what happened. Through the preaching of the gospel, a kingdom was established that was not of this world. And in A.D. 70, the mountain of the old covenant was quite literally leveled. The faith of the apostles was the instrument God used to bring about this tectonic shift in redemptive history. This is not a promise that you can get a new chariot by believing hard enough. This is a promise that God's kingdom purposes, which seem impossible to men, will be accomplished through the faith of His people.
The Engine of Kingdom Work (v. 22)
Jesus concludes this lesson by connecting this mountain-moving faith directly to the practice of prayer.
"And all things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive." (Matthew 21:22 LSB)
Again, this is one of the most abused verses in the Bible. It is not a universal guarantee that we will get whatever we ask for, as though God were a cosmic vending machine. The promise is conditioned by the entire context of Scripture. John tells us that "if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us" (1 John 5:14). James tells us that some ask and do not receive because they ask with wrong motives, to spend it on their passions (James 4:3). Prayer is not a tool for gratifying our selfish desires. Prayer is the engine of kingdom work.
The key is the word "believing." Believing what? Believing that God is good, that He is sovereign, and that His promises in Christ are Yes and Amen. It means praying in faith, which is to say, praying in alignment with the revealed will and character of God. The apostles were about to be commissioned to take the gospel to the ends of the earth. They were going to face persecution, opposition, and impossible circumstances. Jesus is arming them for this task. He is telling them that as they go about His business, praying for the advancement of His kingdom, they can do so with absolute confidence. They are to pray for the mountain to be moved, for the gospel to triumph, for the church to be built. And in that work, whatever they ask in accordance with that mission, believing, they will receive.
This promise extends to us. We are not apostles, but we are engaged in the same kingdom work. We are called to be fruitful, to make disciples, to see the lordship of Christ extended over every area of life. And we are to do this through dependent prayer. We are to pray big, audacious, mountain-moving prayers, not for our own comfort, but for His glory. We should pray for the conversion of our city, for the collapse of idolatrous strongholds in our culture, for the reformation of the church. When we pray in faith for the things that are on God's heart, we can have confidence that He hears and will answer.
Conclusion: Leaves or Figs?
So this strange and unsettling incident with a fig tree brings us to a point of decision. It forces us to ask a fundamental question of our own lives and of our churches: are we producing leaves or figs? Is our Christianity a matter of outward show, of religious activity, of looking the part? Or is there the genuine fruit of repentance, faith, and love that God is looking for?
A leafy profession without the fruit of righteousness does not impress God. In fact, it invites His judgment. The Lord is hungry for righteousness, and He will not be mocked by empty religion. The curse on the fig tree is a permanent warning against the kind of hypocrisy that crucified the Lord of glory.
But the promise to the disciples is a permanent encouragement. The same Lord who had the authority to wither a tree with a word is the one who has commissioned us. And He has given us the gift of faith and the privilege of prayer. The mountains of opposition that stand before the church, the seemingly immovable strongholds of unbelief in our culture, are nothing to Him. He specializes in impossible tasks.
Therefore, let us come to Him, confessing any hypocrisy, any tendency to be content with mere leaves. Let us ask Him to make us truly fruitful, from the root up. And let us take up the task He has given us with a bold and believing faith, praying with confidence that the God who moves mountains is our Father, and that in the name of His Son, all things are possible.