Remain in me, and I will remain in you. A branch can’t produce fruit by itself, but must remain in the vine. Likewise, you can’t produce fruit unless you remain in me. 5 I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, then you will produce much fruit. Without me, you can’t do anything. -John 15:4-5
I was recently on a Confirmation Retreat with my students where the theme centered around John 15, abiding in the vine and bearing fruit. After one night of worship, we were invited to plant a seed into soil to take home and care for as a sort of object lesson in the faith. Now, I adore this section of the Gospel of John and find it to be an inspiring object lesson. The vineyard was an age-old metaphor symbolizing God’s chosen people. “ Israel is my vineyard; I, the Lord, will tend the fruitful vines,” (Isa. 27:3). “The vineyard of the Lord of heavenly forces is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are the plantings in which God delighted, (Isa. 5:7). “You brought a vine out of Egypt. You drove out the nations and planted it. You cleared the ground for it; then it planted its roots deep, filling the land,” (Ps 80:8-9). Each Old Testament allegory of the vine/vineyard reveals God’s bountiful gift of grace, and the human capacity to ignore and even squander the good gifts we’ve received. These stories are both promise and warning. Promise that God has provided and will provide again. And warning that we are quite capable of making a mess of that gift. The point of the warning is not to pronounce doom, but to produce awareness that like a vineyard, God’s gifts in our lives require tending and care if we are to flourish within God’s grace.
So when Jesus calls himself the vine, and his disciples the branches, this is rooted in a historic Jewish object lesson. Tend to your gracious life in the love of God. Or as Jesus insists, “abide in me.” Abide, also translated as “remain,” suggests an intentional placement. Situate your life in the love of God. Tend to it, pay attention to it, explore it, rest in it. In so doing, you will see fruit blooming all around your beautiful little life.
Now, as I watched these kids plant a little seed into the soil on this retreat, I chuckled to myself remembering my own ordination. I remember receiving a small plant from the Bishop, along with all the other ordinands. I remember thinking, “Lord I don’t have a green thumb, and ministry is already busy enough without having to remember to water this plant to prove that I’m abiding in Jesus.” And I was right. The plant was dead within a year.
But whether the object lesson itself worked or not, the point remained. While my hard work and dedication are important, I will find myself shriveling up and dying when my work is not rooted in my connection to Christ. I can maybe slide by a few weeks, but over time, if I have not tended to my soul’s connection to God, I find myself growing resentful of my work, angry at just about everything, and short with others. Perhaps I am still getting “results” with my work, but the fruit feels rotten and often comes at the cost of my own well-being. Yet when I consistently abide/remain/situate myself within the loving gaze of God in Christ, I can face the same challenges and frustrations and the fruit feels right. I’d rather leave this here, in the poetic metaphor, because it’s not science. There’s not a one-for-one proof that praying x-minutes a day will guarantee a positive outlook on life. So instead, I’ll close with a blessing:
Abide, my friend. May your Lenten season surprise you. Remain, my friend. May your grounding in Christ restore you for the task at hand. Situate yourself in God’s loving gaze, my friend. May you go bananas. Not the crazy kind, but the kind that gives you lots of potassium. Amen.