RIPE

This is the time of year when zucchini grow to the size of footballs and tomatoes engage in population explosions. We don’t grow zucchini. (I got zucchini-ed out in childhood by my frugal mother’s zucchini creations.) However, my husband has a favorite sunny spot by the garage for his yearly “farm” of tomatoes. By September they shout “pick me, pick me!”  We try to share, but find ourselves gifted by other tomato-growers whose plants went into overdrive and don’t realize we have our own stash.

I’ve been reading John 15 in different translations in preparation for a speaking opportunity in October. It’s about grape vines, of course, but in some ways the truths fit tomatoes, especially if we were real savvy tomato-vine-keepers. These three words seem to summarize the passage:

PRUNED: Our heavenly Father is the vine dresser.  He knows what to snip off so that more nourishment goes into the fruit-producing branches. If there’s a sucker vine, off it goes.  Have to admit grapes and tomatoes differ here. Tomatoes need “cages” or supports. Lesson: life’s unpleasant experiences can leave us better or bitter. “Better” if we see them as God’s pruning wisdom. “Bitter” if we think God doesn’t have our best interests in mind when hard, “life-pruning” things happen.

NOURISHED:  The passage talks about “remaining” in the vine. Staying attached to the main vine is the only way the auxiliary vines can get the nourishment to grow grapes. When we go off and do our thing, goodbye healthy fruit. Without a “cage” to support its wimpy branches, the tomato would similarly have problems, flopping all over with the fruit in contact with the ground where they’d be most likely to decay (or feed the local mice and rats). When I “lift up” my Bible off the table by my rocker to read it, or “lift up” my prayer concerns to Him, I am nourished and encouraged.

FRUITFUL: Finally comes harvest, and off come the grapes.  And what’s their purpose? To nourish! To provide fruit that will last (v. 16).  Jesus said, “This is my command: Love each other” (v. 17). Let’s hear it for tomatoes in salads, as sauces, and as lumps of red goodness in kabobs or cooked dishes. Oh yes, tomato juice, if you want to recruit a blender. God is not limited by what He can accomplish through our personalities and abilities. He never intended for us to sit on a platter and be admired at length!

Maybe I’ve been a bit light-hearted about our bumper crop of tomatoes. I remember that when Jesus taught, He used simple object lessons. Many of His listeners were farmers or had a small garden for their family. You don’t leave a crop (or a garden) to itself. It needs care, or you’ll just have what Proverbs described of Mr. Sluggard’s farm: full of thorns and weeds, and its stone wall in ruins (Proverbs 24:30-34).

I wonder if Mr. Sluggard intended to grow tomatoes.  Or zucchini....  

Pruning the Prickles

I’m always glad when my annual task of pruning the roses is over.  Despite wearing leather gloves and long sleeves, I inevitably end up with punctures and scratches. I have to wash them quickly with soap, as I tend to itch and swell if I don’t. One slow bush at a time, I reach in to snip off a dead cane or trim suckers, all the time thinking of the “bowl shape” that’s best for rose health. This slow, tedious task also gives me a chance to think and pray for people in my life.

 The Bible says healthy spirituality mandates pruning. The most direct teaching about that comes with Jesus discourse about the vine and the branches in John 15. (As an aside: long ago in Bible school we had to memorize the main theme in each chapter of John.  I remembered “15” because the “1” looked like a straight vine and the “5” like a crooked vine needing pruning. That’s your freebie of the day!)  Jesus said the Father (the gardener) cuts off every branch that doesn’t produce fruit and prunes the fruit-bearing branches so they can produce any more.

The unfruitful branches are like those who’ve made a superficial commitment to Christ (most likely they show up at church and speak the “church language”) but don’t reproduce spiritually. The analogy to my roses is canes that are spindly with barely a weak bloom.  Off they go. I preserve the stalwart main canes and others branching off them that show promise of bearing flowers.

I also trim any sign of disease, a discernment that brings to mind to mind Galatians 6:1:

Dear brothers and sisters, if another Christian is overcome by some sin, you who are godly should gently and humbly help that person back onto the right path. (NLT)

Who of us is perfect?  But sometimes God needs us to step in to help someone who may be blind to a sinful  behavior or attitude. Someone recently told of an uncomfortable encounter when he could no longer overlook another believer’s negative, self-righteous behavior as a “grammar police.”  For years, that other person got prickly whenever someone used a certain innocent idiom in her presence. No matter if it happened in church announcements or at the store. You can guess how strangers felt when she got upset and “corrected” them. “Major on the majors,” he reprimanded her.

The passage says “gently and humbly” help that person back onto the right path. The cuts of the Pruner (and His helpers) may hurt, but the pain will be forgotten when those wonderful blooms come.

The prickly and the pruned

Besides born-to-bite dogs (see last week’s blog), I encounter many thought-provoking sights during my morning walks. One day I took along my camera to photograph two very different roses just a block apart. One is part of a neglected bed of about four rose bushes. A confusion of spindly canes spill out of the weed-choked soil, bearing few blooms. Another yard has weed-free, pruned, cared-for roses with brilliant flowers.

Their contrasting conditions reminded me of John 15, which records Jesus calling Himself the true vine and His Father the vinedresser. Verse 2: “Every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” Roses aren’t grapevines, but they have commonalities. Both can go wild and get diseased, limiting their fruitfulness. That’s why, in my rose bed, every year I lop off dead or diseased branches, prune off suckers and encourage a “shape” that maximizes strength and access to the sun. The point of it all is to help the branches “abide” in the main stalk, drawing life and nourishment from the soil and water. The spiritual analogy, of course, is that we allow God to prune away the suckers and disease of wrong "me-centered" attitudes and habits that impair abiding in Him.

One of Max Lucado's insightful books is titled It’s Not About Me. In the book's acknowledgements, he told of having a quick visit with an old friend over lunch. Lucado asked him, “What has God been teaching you this year?” The friend responded, “He’s been teaching me that: It’s not about me.” Lucado’s book explores that concept, lifting up the glory of God as a reminder that it’s all about Him.

“Abide in me,” Jesus said, “and I in you.” He is the “main branch” to whom we must remain attached to know true life. The Greek verb (meno) that we usually translate “abide” suggests a continuing, nourishing attachment. No matter if you’re a rose vine or grape vine, you can’t attach and detach at your convenience, like the pump at a gas station. It’s an all-out commitment. And here’s another beauty from that passage. Meno, the verb form of “abide,” has a cousin in the noun form, mone. Know where that’s found? In the incredibly comforting message Jesus left us about heaven in John 14:2: “In my Father’s house are many mone" (most accurately, “dwelling places,” not the misleading idea of "mansions" as some of us grew up reading)." The nature of our residence in Heaven will be intimate connection with the Savior. How that will happen, I’m not sure—but God does.

For now, I see the Creator in carefully-tended roses that help declare the glory of God. And I’m reminded that God loves me so much that He won’t leave me the unruly way I am. He knows how and where I need to be pruned--to abide in Him, and to bring Him the glory.