Remaining on the Vine

Remaining on the Vine

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” ~John 15:5

Since my husband’s diet consists mostly of plants, I decided I would grow plenty of acorn squash, butternut squash, and spaghetti squash in my garden this year. I was so full of optimism as I went to the Mennonite greenhouse in town, selected their healthiest-looking plants, and then came back and tucked them into my soil.

After six weeks, the novelty wore off before the fruit had produced on the vine, and my garden became an experiment of survival of the fittest.

Every once in a while, I would go out there and rearrange the vines to make myself feel better. But then I noticed that the squash vines were lassoing their way out of the weeds to reach the mowed part of the yard. Soon, butternut squash started sprouting, and I would squat down and stare at the green, pear-shaped fruit in amazement.

The truth of the matter is that, last week, I was a lot like those squash vines. After our appointment with the neurosurgeon at Vanderbilt, I found myself cranky and impatient with my girls to the point I knew I had to shake myself out of it because I’m determined not to allow this experience to scar their little hearts.

So, I stubbornly pulled myself out of the weeds of my feelings in order to find a better place to thrive. But I was doing it on my own strength, and therefore I failed. I would be all right for a few hours (or minutes) until the girls started fighting or throwing hissy fits because their environment also wasn’t to their liking, and my tongue would take control of me again.

But then, on Wednesday, I went outside to poke around in my weed patch, and I saw that those vines, which had stubbornly fought their way to “freedom,” were now dying on the vine. The vines themselves were thriving but the base of the plant was rotting with disease. I stared down at that rotting plant, and then I looked back at the fruit, which looked healthy and perfect. And, low and behold, I could see myself.

I can lasso my way out of my feelings on my own strength all day long, but that strength is going to fail me unless I remain connected to the Vine. Only when I step back into the presence of Jesus can I find peace; only when I look into His face do the worries and cares of this world fall away; only when my heart recalls His great love for me can I shift my focus from myself to others and love them the way I have been called to love.

I don’t want to lasso my way through life; I want to produce fruit simply by remaining on the Vine.

How about you?