Lenten Journey: The Fig Tree

And he told them this parable:  "There once was a person who had a fig tree planted in his orchard, and when he came in search of fruit on it but found none, he said to the gardener, 'For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree but have found none.  So cut it down.  Why should it exhaust the soil?'  He said to him in reply, 'Sir, leave it for this year also, ans I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future.  If not you can cut it down.'" 

- Luke 13:6-9 

For Reflection...

It's just a simple fact.  Fig trees are meant to bear fruit.  That is God's will.  If I plant one in my orchard, that's what I'm going to expect of it.  Other trees can get by with just providing shade or looking attractive.  Fig trees can do those things too, but they are also supposed to produce a harvest of figs.

Producing fruit is the nature of the fig tree.  It doesn't have to do anything in particular.  It can't, after all.  It can draw water and nutrients from the soil.  Its leaves can capture sunlight and by photosynthesis turn it into life energy.  Beyond that, it just sits there, rooted in the ground, waiting for summer.

What does it mean if the tree isn't bearing fruit?  Maybe, as the landowner in the parable might suspect, this tree is a dud.  Or maybe, as the gardener suggests, the tree hasn't been cultivated sufficiently.  More water?  More fertilizer?  A fresh tilling of the soil?  More loving care and nurture?  Maybe that's what's needed.

God's will for the fig tree is that it grow to maturity and bear fruit.  God's will for me is that I grow to maturity (Ephesians 4:14-15) and bear fruit too (Galatians 5:22-23).  I'm made for it, and so are you.  It is our nature.  We don't have to make it happen.

What we are called to do, like the fig tree, is to be receptive to the ministrations of the gardener.  We can reach our roots deeply into the ground and draw from the living waters (Jeremiah 17:8).   And we can endure the work of our cultivation.

The fig tree stands steady through the digging and the spreading of manure and the pruning.  It's messy and it smells.  It's painful to lose branches, even as the branches that remain hold the promise of bearing more fruit (see John 15:2).

And bearing fruit is what we're made for.

For Entering In...

- Spend a few moments in silence becoming present to yourself and to God.

- Reflect on these questions:

• God has made a world filled with variety.  As there are many kinds of fruit-bearing trees, so there are many gifts among us.  What do you see as your particular gifts?  What sort of fruit are you made to bear?

• The fig tree can't make itself bear fruit.  Have you had an experience of trying to demand of yourself that you accomplish something?  How was that for you?  Was it difficult or easy?  Do you feel you were successful or unsuccessful?

• How are you at waiting?  If the gardener has to do the work, we have to trust the gardener's timing.  What is it like for you when your timing and the gardener's aren't the same?

• How do you see yourself being cultivated?  What is God doing?  Digging?  Spreading manure?  Pruning?  How receptive are you?  Have you ever experienced your own suffering as a source of the gardener's care?

- Today or tomorrow or this weekend -- or all three, as your time allows -- spend some time in silence with the word you have fastened to your heart.  Just gently hold your word, allowing all other thoughts or feelings that come up to float by.  Know that God is with you.

Lenten Journey: Original Sin

Wretched man that I am!  Who will rescue me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! 

- Romans 7:24-25

For Reflection...

Once upon a time God created human beings.  I don't know how God did it.  Evolution seems indisputable, but God can create however God wants.  In any event, self-consciousness arose in the fullness of time according to a plan in the eternal mind of God, and there was adam, which in Hebrew is human.  

So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

- Genesis 1:27

Created in the very image of God.  It is no wonder that God declares them not just good but "very good" (Genesis 1:31).

What does it mean that we are created in God's good image?  Here's what I think:  The Son of God always was, and we are made like him.  He becomes "like us" (cf. Hebrews 4:15) only in that we were made in his image.  What separates us from him is what we call sin.

How have we fallen so far?  Yesterday we took up our courage and began to look at our own sin, but the Christian story teaches us that my personal sin is only a latter chapter in the story of humanity's collective sin.   Even if we move past the idea of self-help to a recognition of our dependence upon God, we often understand God's plan for our salvation to be about God and me alone, my personal relationship, as we say. While it is true that my relationship with God matters -- and we'll get there -- if we're to understand what any of this has to do with Jesus, we need to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.

If we're to see the creation stories in Genesis as in any sense True, we must give credence to humankind's place at the pinnacle of the created order.  We humans, out of all creation, are God's elect.  That doesn't mean we're better than rocks or trees or cows or stars or angels.  It means we were given a particular role to play.  We were given the task to be the stewards of the rest of creation (Genesis 1:26).  We humans are the intermediaries between God and everything God has created.  We humans are meant to bridge the gap.

But something went wrong on our end.  There are many, many interpretations of Genesis 3, where the first man and first woman, enticed by the serpent, succumb to temptation and eat the forbidden fruit.  What does this allegory signify?  In earlier times, it was seen as some sort of sexual sin.  Looking at the text, we might wonder if their original sin is disobedience? Or is it ingratitude, as suggested in something I recently read?  Or, as I am inclined to believe, is it the most basic form of idolatry, wherein I eschew the idea of any god other than my own self will and confuse my true dependence for a false freedom?

What is certain is that there is a rupture in the relationship between humans and our Creator God.  We, who were supposed to hold the space between the Creator and creation walked away to do our own thing.  Faced with temptation, we acquiesced, leaving creation to be overrun by the "powers and principalities" (Ephesians 6:12).

We know it's true.  All we have to do is read the morning news.  It is not just our own souls that are broken; it is the whole world, from the most intimate human relationships to nature itself.  Things are not as they should be.  But God never intended to leave it that way.

For Entering In...

- Spend a few moments in the quiet becoming present to yourself.  Notice how it feels to be in your body to be here, now.

- Invite God to be present with you.  Notice what it feels like to be in God's presence.

- Reflect on these questions:

• What does it mean to you that humans are created "in the image of God"?

• How do you understand human beings in relationship to the rest of creation?  What do you think it means that God made humans to be the stewards of creation?

• What have you learned or thought about "original sin"?  What, if anything, do you believe it has to do with you and your personal relationship to God?

• What do you think is meant by "powers and principalities"?  What powers do you see acting for ill in the world today?

• If it is true that all of creation is broken by sin, what do you see as the most egregious manifestations of that brokenness?  In what circumstances does your heart most cry out for God to act in healing and saving ways?  Write these down.  They will be important later, when we reflect more on how each of us is called into mission in God's kingdom.

- As you complete today's reflection, take a moment to consider your own personal failings.  Can you confess them to God and receive the forgiveness that God is holding out to you even now?

The Only Constant

Change is inevitable.  They say it doesn't come easy, but I've always been a fan.  I remember in college, when I'd get to feeling restless I'd suddenly rearrange the furniture in my residence hall room -- much to the surprise of my unsuspecting but preternaturally easy-going and patient roommate.  I used to get my hair cut in the same way.  I'd wake up one morning and decide, "I'm ready for a change!"  Sometimes, my impetuousness led to regret, but the furniture can be moved back.  Hair grows.

As I've grown older, I don't feel any more afraid of change than I ever was, but I'm considerably slower to initiate it.  I've become, perhaps, more wary of the potential for regret. Unlike my younger years, I have people who depend on me -- kids and a husband who expect the furniture to stay put, whose security such changes on my personal whim would disrupt.

Still, change comes.  Sometimes I invite it.  Sometimes it comes to find me.  Either way, once it's here, I have to adapt.

It's then that I notice attachments of which I may have been unaware, because when change arrives, the something new is often pushing out something old.  Sometimes it's all to the good.  Occasionally it's all bad.  But most often it's mixed, good and bad:  My husband's new job has meant new opportunities pushing out some of the old pressures -- but also less money.  My kids going to school has meant new friends and wider horizons pushing out some of the time we used to spend together -- but also some of the bickering we used to do.

Changes that happen on the inside can feel like the same mixed bag.  Maybe it's growth I've been hoping and praying for, healing an old wound or breaking a bad habit.  Even so, I may not like the new me either, at least not at first.  I don't recognize her right off.  I'm not used to her.  The old labels suddenly fit like I've been rummaging in someone else's closet.  There's a pull here, a bagginess there.  I wonder where the old, comfortable, familiar me has gone.

I may be tempted to put the furniture back the way it was.

Eventually, I adapt.  I may have to slow down to remember there's a new order to things.  Then, before long, I don't need so carefully to watch my step so as not to bump into things.  In time I find that I can make my way around this new arrangement, even with my eyes closed.

But I keep my eyes open.  I know from experience that I need to be on the look-out.  Change tends to beget change.  Once I've said yes to the possibility of something new and different coming into my life, it will keep coming.  Because when we are open, God uses our openness to keep stripping away the old and bringing in the new, until we become like him, "until all of us come...to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ" (Ephesians 4:13).

Such change, finally, is not like my youthful reaction to restlessness, nor even my more measured wariness of regret.  It starts with me, with my willing heart, but after that, I'm the roommate, coming home to myself, and God is doing the rearranging.  It is I who am invited to welcome the surprise with patience and trust.