I’m out on a limb here. Heh, made a pun already and didn’t even mean to. I was referring to the risk I’m about to undertake. Referring to the danger of speaking, or writing in this case, beyond my knowledge and experience. Not the first time I’ve done that, I freely admit. I have always subscribed to the idea that if you share your ignorance with confidence and conviction, then most folks will believe you know what you are talking about. Even when you don’t. I always tell folks asked to read a difficult scripture passage, for example, full of unpronounceable names to just pick a pronunciation and go with it. No one really knows how it is supposed to sound, so just go with it.
Works most of the time. My problem here is that I’m not dealing with obscure dead languages or convoluted theological points that even the originators would be hard pressed to put them into an English that normal people understand. No, I’m going to talk about gardening.
I hate gardening, let’s just get that out of the way. That’s a bit harsh, I realize, and not completely true. There are some things of a gardening nature that I will do without protest. Too much protest anyway. Grumbling, maybe, pouting, but not protest. I appreciate gardens and gardeners. I loved touring the big houses in Britain and walking through the gardens, formal and informal both. I just didn’t want to have to do the work.
I know, I know. And that will probably be the subject of another bible study sometime. But for all I’m admitting is that I’m out on this limb about to talk about something I know little to nothing about. Yet, here goes.
Well, after a word from our sponsor, so to speak. The reason why I’m about to launch into a lecture about gardening. Because He did.
John 15:1-12 "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. 2 He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. 3 You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. 9 As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. 11 I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. 12 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.
I like a good metaphor as much as the next guy. He could have just mentioned the whole vine thing and left it at that. “I Am the true vine” was a powerful statement to those first hearers. Because the image of the vine wove all through the Scriptures of the day. The prophets loved to talk about the vine. But for them it was Israel. A vine uprooted from Egypt and planted in the promised land. A vine that bears fruit to feed many. But also a vine that withers when it neglects the source of strength, when it becomes unconnected. Which sounds surprisingly like what Jesus says here in this farewell discourse. Stay connected. Remember the source of strength, bear fruit. What changes is that instead of a nation, the vine is now a person. “I Am the true vine” says Jesus. Startling, no doubt. And maybe offensive, to a degree? How could one man replace a nation?
But look again, Jesus differentiates between vine and branches. I Am the vine, but you are the branches. He is simply bringing the source closer to us. Instead of the people being uprooted and planted by God and sometimes withering when they forget that, now that source of strength is right there with us. We are connected to it. It is right there, right here. We abide in it.
The people of God still produce the fruit, that is how God decided that it would work, God just moved a little closer because we could use the help. Apart from God, apart from the source of strength, the vine we can do nothing. And we have to stay close.
“In a vineyard, the best grapes are produced closest to the central vine.” I read that, didn’t know it, in case you are wondering. Stay close. Because we need to be pruned. I wish it weren’t so. But we do.
Pruning is an art form, it seems to me, as much as a horticultural technique. It looks like you are killing it, the plant or bush or whatever that you are pruning. But if it is done right, then it always comes back stronger. Always. It produces more, it flourishes, it grows beyond where it was cut back. Pruning, I’m told, is necessary for some kinds of plants, or it withers and dies. Because it is trying to sustain something that isn’t necessary, or isn’t healthy, or is a distraction from its true function of bearing fruit or flower.
Step away from the metaphor for a moment, and realize that pruning hurts. Cutting away that which we’ve become attached to, no matter how unhealthy it is for us is hard, is painful. And it makes us ask that question that we don’t like to admit that we ask: Is it worth it? Is it worth the struggle, the pain, the self-denial, to live this life that he offers us, to enjoy this abundance that he wants to pour down on us? Is the fruit that we bear - this commandment to love, God and neighbor with equal amounts of passion and service - worth the effort it takes to bear it?
“These things I have told you that my joy may be in you and your joy may be full.” I wonder sometimes, to be honest. But He says it is more than worth it, and I have chosen to trust Him. And the moments of real joy that I have experienced in my life are always caught up in loving and being loved. So, I know I want more. More of Him, more of love, more joy.
So stay close. Abide in me, is the way he says it. I am learning to abide. To seek those moments when I can be in Christ’s presence, can soak up that word, can sing of praise and healing, loving and reconciling. I want to stay close. But how?
To big a question for the space I have left. But the short answer is we need to be grafted into the vine. I know there is nothing about grafting in these verses. Vines and abiding, pruning and being cut off, yes. But not grafting. So, let me venture out a little further on this limb. Grafting is a process whereby one plant, the scion (or offspring) becomes a part of another, the root stock (or the vine). The process allows the plants to become one. But the only way for the scion to be grafted into the root stock is if the stock or the vine is cut, is pierced to make room, to allow entry.
By His wounds we are healed.
Shalom,
Derek
Works most of the time. My problem here is that I’m not dealing with obscure dead languages or convoluted theological points that even the originators would be hard pressed to put them into an English that normal people understand. No, I’m going to talk about gardening.
I hate gardening, let’s just get that out of the way. That’s a bit harsh, I realize, and not completely true. There are some things of a gardening nature that I will do without protest. Too much protest anyway. Grumbling, maybe, pouting, but not protest. I appreciate gardens and gardeners. I loved touring the big houses in Britain and walking through the gardens, formal and informal both. I just didn’t want to have to do the work.
I know, I know. And that will probably be the subject of another bible study sometime. But for all I’m admitting is that I’m out on this limb about to talk about something I know little to nothing about. Yet, here goes.
Well, after a word from our sponsor, so to speak. The reason why I’m about to launch into a lecture about gardening. Because He did.
John 15:1-12 "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. 2 He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. 3 You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. 9 As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. 11 I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. 12 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.
I like a good metaphor as much as the next guy. He could have just mentioned the whole vine thing and left it at that. “I Am the true vine” was a powerful statement to those first hearers. Because the image of the vine wove all through the Scriptures of the day. The prophets loved to talk about the vine. But for them it was Israel. A vine uprooted from Egypt and planted in the promised land. A vine that bears fruit to feed many. But also a vine that withers when it neglects the source of strength, when it becomes unconnected. Which sounds surprisingly like what Jesus says here in this farewell discourse. Stay connected. Remember the source of strength, bear fruit. What changes is that instead of a nation, the vine is now a person. “I Am the true vine” says Jesus. Startling, no doubt. And maybe offensive, to a degree? How could one man replace a nation?
But look again, Jesus differentiates between vine and branches. I Am the vine, but you are the branches. He is simply bringing the source closer to us. Instead of the people being uprooted and planted by God and sometimes withering when they forget that, now that source of strength is right there with us. We are connected to it. It is right there, right here. We abide in it.
The people of God still produce the fruit, that is how God decided that it would work, God just moved a little closer because we could use the help. Apart from God, apart from the source of strength, the vine we can do nothing. And we have to stay close.
“In a vineyard, the best grapes are produced closest to the central vine.” I read that, didn’t know it, in case you are wondering. Stay close. Because we need to be pruned. I wish it weren’t so. But we do.
Pruning is an art form, it seems to me, as much as a horticultural technique. It looks like you are killing it, the plant or bush or whatever that you are pruning. But if it is done right, then it always comes back stronger. Always. It produces more, it flourishes, it grows beyond where it was cut back. Pruning, I’m told, is necessary for some kinds of plants, or it withers and dies. Because it is trying to sustain something that isn’t necessary, or isn’t healthy, or is a distraction from its true function of bearing fruit or flower.
Step away from the metaphor for a moment, and realize that pruning hurts. Cutting away that which we’ve become attached to, no matter how unhealthy it is for us is hard, is painful. And it makes us ask that question that we don’t like to admit that we ask: Is it worth it? Is it worth the struggle, the pain, the self-denial, to live this life that he offers us, to enjoy this abundance that he wants to pour down on us? Is the fruit that we bear - this commandment to love, God and neighbor with equal amounts of passion and service - worth the effort it takes to bear it?
“These things I have told you that my joy may be in you and your joy may be full.” I wonder sometimes, to be honest. But He says it is more than worth it, and I have chosen to trust Him. And the moments of real joy that I have experienced in my life are always caught up in loving and being loved. So, I know I want more. More of Him, more of love, more joy.
So stay close. Abide in me, is the way he says it. I am learning to abide. To seek those moments when I can be in Christ’s presence, can soak up that word, can sing of praise and healing, loving and reconciling. I want to stay close. But how?
To big a question for the space I have left. But the short answer is we need to be grafted into the vine. I know there is nothing about grafting in these verses. Vines and abiding, pruning and being cut off, yes. But not grafting. So, let me venture out a little further on this limb. Grafting is a process whereby one plant, the scion (or offspring) becomes a part of another, the root stock (or the vine). The process allows the plants to become one. But the only way for the scion to be grafted into the root stock is if the stock or the vine is cut, is pierced to make room, to allow entry.
By His wounds we are healed.
Shalom,
Derek
No comments:
Post a Comment