The Green Bay Tree and the Void Text: Psalm 37:35-36
Introduction: The Snapshot and the Video
One of the central temptations for the righteous in every generation is the temptation to envy the wicked. We look out at the world and we see scoundrels prospering. We see arrogant men, ruthless men, spreading themselves out, taking up all the room, and looking for all the world like they are permanent fixtures. They are the great green bay tree, luxuriant and rooted, and we, by comparison, can feel like shrubs in a drought. This is a profound spiritual challenge. It is the challenge Asaph wrestled with in Psalm 73, where his feet almost slipped because he was envious of the arrogant when he saw the prosperity of the wicked.
The entire book of Psalms, and indeed all of Scripture, is given to us to correct our spiritual astigmatism. We are prone to short-sightedness. We judge by the snapshot, not by the video. We see the wicked in his pomp and power, and we fret. We see his portfolio expanding, his influence growing, his laughter echoing through the halls of power, and we are tempted to think that perhaps wickedness pays after all. God is not grading on a curve, but it can certainly feel like the wicked are acing a test we are failing.
But Psalm 37 is given to us as a great corrective. It is a psalm of David, written in his old age, and it is filled with settled, grandfatherly wisdom. He is telling us to take the long view. He is telling us that the prosperity of the wicked is an illusion, a mirage. It has girth, but no root. It has leaves, but no future. It is a spectacle, but it is a vanishing act. In the verses before us today, David gives us a personal testimony, an eyewitness account of the fundamental law of spiritual reality: God’s world is structured to bless righteousness and to癌orate wickedness. Rebellion against the Creator is not a sustainable business model.
The problem is that we want to see the cosmic books balanced and audited by the end of the fiscal quarter. God, however, works on a much longer timeline, but His justice is no less certain for it. These two verses are a compact lesson in divine providence. They teach us to see the world as it truly is, not as it appears to our fretful, impatient hearts. They teach us to look at the wicked man not as a mighty oak, but as a puff of smoke.
The Text
"I have seen a wicked, ruthless man
Spreading himself like a luxuriant tree in its native soil.
Then he passed away, and behold, he was no more;
I sought for him, but he could not be found."
(Psalm 37:35-36 LSB)
The Apparent Power of the Bully (v. 35)
David begins with a personal observation, something he has seen with his own eyes.
"I have seen a wicked, ruthless man spreading himself like a luxuriant tree in its native soil." (Psalm 37:35)
Notice the description. This is not just any wicked man; he is "ruthless." The Hebrew carries the idea of being terrifying, an insolent tyrant. This is the kind of man who inspires fear. He is a bully on the world stage or on the playground. He is the man who gets what he wants through intimidation and brute force. He does not ask; he takes. He does not build; he conquers. He is the man our modern world often secretly admires, despite all its protestations about compassion and equality.
And what is this man doing? He is "spreading himself." This is a picture of arrogant expansion. He is like an invasive species, taking up all the light and all the soil. He leaves no room for others to grow. His ambition is total. He wants to be the only tree in the forest. The image is that of a "luxuriant tree in its native soil." This means he looks utterly secure. He is not a flimsy transplant; he looks like he belongs there. He has deep roots, a thick trunk, and a sprawling canopy. He is, in a word, established. He is the picture of success, stability, and permanence.
This is precisely the image that tempts us to despair. We see the Soros-types, the globalist elites, the media moguls, the godless academics spreading their influence, their ideologies, their corruptions, and they look for all the world like this great green tree. They seem unshakeable. Their roots are in the soil of the academy, the media, Washington D.C., and Hollywood. They appear to be the very definition of "native." To challenge them seems as futile as trying to push over a giant sequoia with your bare hands.
David does not downplay this. He is not pretending the wicked do not prosper. He says, "I have seen it." He is acknowledging the reality of the snapshot. He sees the same thing we see. The Bible is not a book of pious platitudes that ignores the hard realities of a fallen world. It looks the terrifying green bay tree right in the face and describes it accurately. This is what makes the next verse so powerful.
The Sudden Vanishing Act (v. 36)
After painting this picture of immense, rooted power, the psalmist delivers the punchline with breathtaking speed.
"Then he passed away, and behold, he was no more; I sought for him, but he could not be found." (Psalm 37:36 LSB)
The transition is abrupt. There is no long, drawn-out decline. There is no slow withering. One moment the tree is there, filling the sky, and the next moment, nothing. The Hebrew is simple: "And he passed by." It is as if someone just walked past the spot where the great tree stood. The verb can mean "to pass on" or "to perish." The effect is the same. The fixture was not a fixture. The permanent thing was utterly transient.
"And behold, he was no more." The word "behold" invites us to look, to be astonished. Look! The space is empty. The great, sprawling, terrifying man is gone. This is not just death; it is obliteration. His presence, his influence, his legacy, all of it has been erased. Think of Ozymandias, king of kings, whose colossal statue lies in ruins in the desert. "Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!" And all that is left is boundless and bare sand.
But David adds a final, poignant detail: "I sought for him, but he could not be found." This is more than just saying he was dead. It means that his place in the world was so completely undone that you could not even find the spot where he had been. The ground did not even bear a scar. The native tree was so thoroughly uprooted that it left no trace. It was as though it had never been.
This is the video, not the snapshot. The wicked man's prosperity is a bubble, and God holds the pin. The entire structure of his success is built on a lie, the lie of autonomy, the lie that a creature can defy the Creator and get away with it. But reality, God's reality, always reasserts itself. The universe is designed to throw off rebels. The wages of sin is death, and this is not just a spiritual platitude. It is a description of cosmic physics. A life built on wickedness is inherently unstable. It contains the seeds of its own destruction. It is a cancer that will inevitably consume its host.
Conclusion: The Rooted and the Rootless
So what is the lesson for us? It is the central lesson of this entire Psalm. "Fret not thyself because of evildoers." Do not waste your emotional and spiritual energy envying a ghost. Do not be intimidated by a mirage. The great green bay tree is a special effect. It looks impressive, but it has no substance.
Our task is to be the opposite of this man. He spreads himself, but we are called to humble ourselves. He is rooted in his "native soil" of this fallen world, but we are to be rooted in Christ. "As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him and established in the faith" (Colossians 2:6-7). The wicked man looks like he is in his native soil, but he is the ultimate alien. He is at war with the God who owns the soil. The righteous, on the other hand, are the true natives. This world was made for us, and we will inherit it. "But the meek shall inherit the earth, and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace" (Psalm 37:11).
The story of the green bay tree is the story of Saul, and Goliath, and Sennacherib, and Caesar, and Robespierre, and Stalin. They all spread themselves. They all seemed permanent. And they all vanished. They are gone, and the kingdom of the Lord and of His Christ continues to grow like a mustard seed into a great tree that fills the whole earth.
This is not just an Old Testament principle. It is the shape of the gospel itself. The greatest wicked and ruthless men spread themselves out on a Friday afternoon. They took the Lord of Glory and nailed Him to a tree. They put Him in a borrowed tomb and set a guard. They looked, for all the world, like the triumphant green bay tree, and the hopes of the disciples were a withered shrub. That was the snapshot.
But then came Sunday morning. And the stone was rolled away. And death itself passed away, and behold, it was no more. The powers of darkness were sought for, but they could not be found. And the one who humbled Himself, the one who did not spread Himself, was exalted to the highest place. He is the one who is truly rooted, and all who are in Him share in that same permanence. The wicked are like chaff that the wind drives away. But the righteous are like a tree planted by rivers of water, that brings forth its fruit in its season. Its leaf also shall not wither, and whatever he does shall prosper. Not for a moment, but forever.