Summer Fruit

One of my favorite things about summer in California is the fruit. Nothing compares to the juicy sweet nectar of a peach racing down my arm or the aroma of a freshly baked berry pie. Since this is my first year in my own place I have relished the opportunity to bake whenever I want. My roommates have enjoyed this spontaneity, except when our home overflows with sugar. I recently made homemade strawberry shortcake with hints of orange and mint, it was delicious if I do say so myself. But you probably want to hear about more than my culinary adventures.

Throughout this year in Santa Barbara I have been thinking a lot about trees and fruit, especially in relation to people. It’s common to hear people speak about receiving the fruit of their labor. This fruit is typically defined as an accomplishment, a finished project, a closed case, or a raise. This is fruit that one can envision from the beginning- from the conception of the idea to the preparation, to the practical work until completion. This can be good work as you get your hands in the soil, patiently and persistently tend to the crop and in the end reap a harvest. God created this labor and fruit. However, at the Village this kind of fruit is rotten and deceitful.

Our creative God did not stop at one kind of harvest and fruit. He was the first to practice incarnational planting where fruit is unpredictable, often hidden and slow in coming, and radically transformative. This is the tree of which I eat at the Village. Or the tree I should eat from. It is tempting to judge my work at the Village according to the standards of accomplishments and programs. People want to see results, taste the fruit that I have grown. I feel pressure to feed those who love and support me to prove that I have not been sitting on my hands. Eve, step away from the tree. This thinking turns my neighbors into projects and our meetings become the measure of success. God, erase this dangerous thought.

At the Village the fruit is unpredictable, hidden, slow in coming, and radically transformative. It looks like a woman addicted to Meth receiving an eviction notice which launches a crisis that eventually leads to her researching a program to get healthy. Or a Buddhist woman who comes to know that Jesus loves her because she has felt his love through countless Westmont students over several years. It is also youth rising up to leadership to care for each other and their community. This fruit might seem small to the world, including my own eyes, yet it’s nectar is sweet.

A couple scripture passages have captured my attention and spoken to my roots. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians reads, “And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge.” As I strive for fruit wanting to hear my master say, “Well done, good and faithful servant”, I must never forget that my being is rooted in love. The work that I do is nothing if it is not an expression of God’s love. I cannot fully love my neighbors if I do not remember that I am rooted and established in God’s love. The fruit I produce will be anemic without God’s love.

Another passage that I have dwelt upon is John 15. It is easy to become detached from the vine. I get caught up in the drama of things at the Village or get carried away with work and visiting friends. I struggle with silence, true rest where I am communing with God and getting to know the heart of God. Several times throughout this year I have become dry and a dead branch because of my failure to remain in Christ. As a result I have not produced much fruit and branches have been cut. Yet recently I have begun dwelling and there are new branches that are growing and God has filled me with hope for the future. More on that next time

 

 

 

 

 

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