“The name of the second [Joseph] called Ephraim, ‘For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.’” Genesis 41:52. “Not before the land of his affliction. Not after the land of his affliction. In the smack-middle of the land of his affliction.” Who’s to say the topography of my anxiety is not the most fertile of my life? “No question is more relevant that this: What kind of fruit are we producing?” Through anxiety, my heart has grown warmer toward people and I crave people’s company (love). I am constantly in a good mood (joy). I am increasingly rested (peace). Although I am fixated on fear, I am willing to overlook offense (forgiveness). I have become much gentler over the last year (gentleness). I have increased in my intentionality to not resist or at least delay compulsions (self-control).
Isaiah 5:2 says, “He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with vines,” not the other way around. The Divine Vinedresser takes the shovel and turns over the rocky soil first, then He gets rid of the stones. God does His best work when we are at our worst. He doesn’t wait for us to smooth our rough edges or refine ourselves; instead, He digs right in and starts planting right there in the midst of our stony hearts! That is not to say that He won’t eventually remove the stones of sin from the rich soil of our souls. But He doesn’t wait for us to clean up our act--or till our soul’s soil--first.
The rock was undoubtedly limestone, the stone for which my terroir--the town where I live--is famous! Our limestone was quarried for the reconstruction of buildings after the great Chicago fire of 1871. We are also known for the vineyard’s most unwelcome tourist-- “Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for our vineyards are in blossom” (Song of Solomon 2:15). The river that wends its way through our tri-cities is named the Fox River. Perhaps God has planted me here--in this limestony soil for such a time as this. This stone prone soil is not so much about failure as it is about fruitfulness. Sometimes God supplants that which He supplies.
I love Exodus 4:12, “Go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.” Not I will tell you, I will teach you. What’s the difference between teaching and telling? Teaching takes two. It requires relationship. Teaching is interactive. “Our lives become witness to His with-ness.” Abounding with love is possible only through abiding in Love. Jesus’ life flows through our veins. Sin is the tourniquet that staunches our fruitfulness. We are never more poised for fruitfulness than in the wake of winter.
Isaiah 37:30-32 convinces me that the vineyard is a trajectory for life. “This shall be a sign to you: You shall eat this year such as grows of itself, and the second year what springs from the same; also in the third year sow and reap, plant vineyards and eat the fruit of them. And the remnant who have escaped of the house of Judah shall again take root downward, and bear fruit upward...The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” The first “year” is our teens--all the single digits with the one before them. This is the decade we spend eating and growing. The second “year “is our twenties--the fruit of our education, college degrees, friendships we’ve made and habits we’re still cultivating. When I was in my twenties, I called this my reinvention; little did I know that I had barely started my inauguration. The third year--thirties is our most fruitful decade. Time and again celebrities speak for most of us when they talk about finally coming into their own and feeling more settled in their own skin. Our thirties are when we sow and reap--in our careers and families--plant vineyards and eat the fruit of our labor. But the best is yet to come!
Luke 13:6-9 is not just a passage I read; I experience it viscerally. I AM the Parable of the Barren Fig Tree. Barrenness bears a certain resonance in my life experience. “A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. Then he said to the keeper of his vineyard, ‘Look, for three years I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree and find none. Cut it down; why does it use up the ground?’ But he answered and said to him, ‘Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and fertilize it. And if it bears fruit, well. But if not, after that you can cut it down.’ ” If my year-decade parallel holds true, then my thirty years of barren hopelessness are just around the corner from a 40th birthday party redemption! My 40s is when I will take root downward and bear fruit upward. And who is responsible for this fertility? All of my digging and fertilizing? No, let it alone! “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” Amen! Let it be and let it begin!
Psalm 30:5 tumbles through the spin cycle of my mind: what if joy not only comes in the morning but in the mourning? Are joy and mourning mutually exclusive or codependent? Is there room enough for both to coexist as brothers--or sisters? Beth Moore’s Chasing Vines is a tribute “To my fellow bookworms, who love nothing better than the sound of a book spine breaking--cheers! Here’s to taking the time. Here’s to feeding our minds. And above all, here’s to chasing the Vine, who turns water into wine.”