Fruitful

A sturdy, two-pronged twig – not sturdy enough obviously - hangs suspended in mid-plunge, a smaller twig supporting it in the intersection of the two prongs.

Despite stormy weather, tender points of incipient buds mark the bare cherry branches. Warming rays tease and tempt the tree towards springtime splendour and summer fruit.

The broken twig, though, hangs smooth and sleek. No sap will rise to feed its points where flower and fruit might have one day swelled, had the storm not broken it away from the trunk.

And still the wind whines and whips, as Storm Dennis stalls above. The disconnected twig swings and sways, supported by the living twig on which it rests. Amputated as it is from the trunk, though, the twig will never bear fruit.

‘No branch will bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me,’ Jesus said.

A word to us all. Jesus advised that by their fruits, we would know who people really are. In an age of easy, lying words, look at the fruit.

Peace and Safety

Still thinking about the broken branch.

Not all shrubs and trees leaf and bloom at the same time, or even in the same season. We can’t look around the church and judge who is still connected to the root of Life and who isn’t. Being fruitful at different times knits us together as a body, so that we can feed our sisters and brothers with the plenty we have when they are in a season of dryness and drought, and so they can feed us.

Dwelling. Abiding. Such words of peace and safety. Jesus is the ultimate home, the true place of peace and safety.

He left the peace and safety of his own glory to enter into the brokenness and stress of this world. To bring us himself as our refuge and home. He opened his arms to us.

Thanks be to God for his incomprehensible sacrifice for me, a sinner.

Just Hang on

The bare branches of the rowan tree toss in the wind, and I notice one which has broken off yet clings still to the larger branches. Without leaves, I almost didn’t notice it had broken off. It will only become apparent that it is no longer connected to the trunk and roots of the tree when spring comes. When the other branches begin to leaf, begin to flourish and bear fruit, this disconnected branch will remain bare, will die.

Sometimes people continue to attend Sunday morning worship, Bible study even, moving in Christian circles, even saying the ‘right’ things. But without remaining connected to the root, Jesus, they will never flourish or bear fruit.

Abide in me, Jesus advises. Dwell in him. Stay connected. Those quiet moments nourishing the relationship between us are so important.

Spiritually Stunted

My friend was searching for a package in her friend’s home. She opened an obscure cupboard and reported there was a white plastic bag inside, tied at the top.

On opening the bag, she discovered a long-forgotten amaryllis. It had been removed from its box and the bulb placed on top of the unopened plastic bag of compost. 

Without nourishment from the compost, without water, and without light, this bulb had sprouted, grown and produced three amazingly beautiful flowers.

But the stem was like the neck of a swan, twisting and curved and rather weak, as the plant sought the light.

It’s now planted in the compost in a pot, supported with two knitting needles and watered with care, set in a place where it is bathed in the light from a window.

Jesus counsels that we should abide in him, be planted in him, be nourished by him. He tells us he is the light of the world, a light which warms and draws life to itself. He declares he is the water of life, that he gives refreshment to all who are thirsty. 

People may look ok from the outside (though perhaps a bit twisted like the stem of the amaryllis). They may seem to be growing fine, but they may be weaker than they look. To develop and bloom with all the strength and vitality Jesus planned for us, we need to be planted, watered, and lit correctly. 

Jesus said he came that we might have life to the full. We’ll never have a full life if we are tied up in a bag in a dark cupboard, so to speak, with no access to light, water and food. We’ll be spiritually stunted.

Grafted in

I’m looking at some beautiful roses from our garden.

They grow up one stem and then divide into three or four small blooms, and are the most delicate shade of peachy white. Just gorgeous.

Well, I brought this one stem in yesterday and as I looked at it, I noticed the stump from where I had dead-headed an earlier bloom. It got me to thinking about the Trinity, and me. The Trinity – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – is such a hard concept to understand. Three in one – how does that work exactly? Recently I read someone comparing the relationship within the Trinity as an intimate dance, into which the Godhead is seeking to draw each of us in. I love that image. 

But back to the stump. We’re also told that we have been grafted in, and that if we don’t bear fruit, we will be cut off. That stump makes me think of being cut off, but given my thoughts during the last few days about abiding in Jesus rather than being required to be rushing around doing stuff all the time, I don’t feel daunted, just reminded, challenged, to abide.

It looks beautiful to abide. Just look at those roses. 

The sun is out and I’m working in the garden today, but while I am working there, I am abiding. I see evidence of the creativity of the Lord everywhere, and as I pluck and eat a warm raspberry, or dig up clumps of irises, I praise him.

Thank God that I’ve been grafted in.

Swimming for Sticks

These may just be words to you, but to Dusty, they convey a specific meaning. One of the special walks we do together is at Crathes Castle, where we basically walk from one water source to the next and I dutifully fling sticks into the water which she enthusiastically retrieves.

Enthusiastic doesn’t do justice to the joy and excitement this dog has over a swimming for sticks walk. It is probably what her ears itch to hear daily. When the second stick goes into the water (she only ever leaps in on the second stick going in, and then tries hard to herd both sticks into her mouth and back to the shore), she races and leaps with absolute trust and abandon into the water source.

She reminds me of a young child who loves to stand a few steps off the ground and fling herself into her daddy’s waiting arms. She knows her dad and trusts him not to let her fall. Dusty is full of faith that she is leaping into a safe place, too, where there awaits a welcoming landing, and that the exercise will refresh and invigorate her.

As we age, many of us grow cynical and hard, disappointed by life and other people, sometimes doubting that God is always good, or that he does love us. In the Bible, Hosea wrote to the people of Israel, ‘Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of love. Plow up the hard ground of your hearts, for now is the time to seek the Lord, that he may come and shower righteousness upon you.’ 

I’m in the middle of the summer months and beginning to flag a bit on keeping up with my garden. It’s a lot of work. Planting isn’t easy in itself. The ground has to be dug over, weeded, manure dug in, and then the good seeds planted. It needs to be watered on the rare dry days. Even gathering in the harvest is tough: I’m about to head back out to pick raspberries – a joyous task as they are so delicious, but still, taking an hour or so every day, not to mention time spent making jam or freezing or baking with them. 

So how do we plow up the hard ground of our hearts? 

I’m looking back to Jesus, who advises his friends, ‘...if you remain in me and I in you, you may ask for anything you want, and it will be granted. When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples.’

How do we produce good fruit? 

I think it’s misleading to compare it all to the actual garden outside, because in the Kingdom of God the plowing and the breaking up of the hard ground all happens as we marinate in the Word of God, as we remain and abide in Jesus. He tells us his yoke is easy; he is the one pulling that plow through the hard ground of our hearts. 

As we learn to be still with him, to remain and abide in him, the hard ground of our hearts is softened. Seeds of righteousness from him drop into those fertile hearts, and watered by his presence, his Word, and prayer, they begin to grow and produce fruit, a harvest of righteousness which brings glory to God. He does it. We sit with him and allow him to do it. 

And the more we do that, the greater peace we know, the greater is our faith that when we race towards God and launch ourselves with great abandon in his direction, he will, indeed catch us.

These are the prayers that he answers. The ones he plants in our hearts. The ones we trust him to take care of. 

Lord, help me to fling myself at you today, knowing in my heart that you are just waiting for such enthusiasm and faith, and you will catch me.

Remain

Remain. Abide.

Dusty and I strolled along the road, her sniffing the grass and plants, and me picking some of the small wild raspberries which line parts of the road and make wonderful jam. 

Some of the plants looked challenged and the berries were tiny and not worth picking. Others flourished and the fruit was still small, but plump and juicy. All in the freezer now, waiting til I’ve combined them with some of the big berries off our own canes in order to make a few jars of jam.

Jesus told his friends to remain in him and they would bear a lot of fruit. He said, rather cryptically, that they could do nothing on their own, but needed to remain in him and then they would be very fruitful.

It’s a foreign concept to most of us. We feel we have to do things – it’s that protestant work ethic perhaps, that elevates busyness beyond where it should be. Jesus commended his friend Mary who sat at his feet and listened to all he had to teach her rather than helping her busy sister Martha. He’d have been happy for Martha to sit at his feet, too. I get the impression he’d have been happy to make do with a simpler meal and enjoy spending time with his friends, imparting some of the knowledge he had to give them. 

We can’t sit at the feet of Jesus anymore, literally, but when we read his words in the Bible it’s as though we are sitting at his feet, and when we do it prayerfully, with a listening and open heart, it’s amazing how we ‘hear’ him speak to us through what we are reading.

I heard him today. Remain in me, he said. Abide in me. I’m trying to slow down, and do that.