Fruit in Its Season

We are transitioning today from a slow reading of the Gospel of Mark to an equally slow reading of the first 16 Psalms. Four chapters a week. Plan to read all four chapters on the first day of the week, and then re-read one chapter a day for the next four days.

This morning as I read Psalm 1, my mind went immediately to the young fig tree in my yard. I planted it as a six-inch cutting three years ago. It lived on my deck for a year-and-a-half where it grew quickly in response to regular watering. When it was about three-and-a-half feet tall, I planted it in my yard. And there, for the last year-and-a-half, it has slowly matured. It has grown a foot or two, and has significantly widened at the trunk. I keep it fenced because the deer who wander through my yard assume everything I plant is for their benefit. It is as if they feel obligated to taste everything I put in the ground. They discovered they liked fig leaves, so I protected my tree with its own personal fence.

This year, the tree produced its first figs. Two of them. I was undeservedly proud.

Then the weather turned hot and dry in May. Really hot. Those of you who live close by know what I am talking about. After a mild spring, we suddenly jumped into the upper nineties and low hundreds (Fahrenheit) for the afternoon highs. And we hadn't even reached June yet!

Well, I faithfully watered my little fig tree - dragging a hundred foot hose out to it every night; rolling the hose up when I was done. But then my schedule interfered with my daily watering. I had a lot of meetings that went late, and several that started early, and the tree went unwatered. I watched as my precious little figs stopped growing. Stunted. My irregular watering was not enough. The tree worked valiantly - kicking off some of its leaves to preserve resources. But lacking what they needed to thrive, the fruit could not mature.

Then one disappeared. I suspect the raccoons.

Then the last one simply fell off the tree - shriveled. Dead.

Psalm 1 tells us that a person who delights in the law of the Lord and meditates on it day and night will be like a tree planted by streams of water. The life-giving water is plentiful. It is abundant. It is regular. And with such resources, the tree produces fruit in its season. The leaves do not wither, and, we must assume, the fruit grows to maturity - sweet and ready to eat.

I fear that I am far too often like my own fig tree than I am the tree of Psalm 1. I take in the life-giving waters of God's word infrequently - and this is true despite my experiential knowledge that close and regular association with God's word brings a great fruit of God's blessing in me and through me.

My prayer today is that I may be firmly planted by the life-giving streams of God's Spirit.

I hope you will join me in that prayer.