On Bearing Fruit

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
 A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
 A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
 A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
 Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
 Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

~ Joyce Kilmer

Living in the land of indomitable Winter, I am trying to be chill about the return of Spring. It will come. Truthfully, it’s already here – though perhaps a little climate challenged. But mid-April snowfall has me thinking about the fruit trees in my yard, and about how much I love when those first green buds appear – almost more than I love the blossoms, and certainly more than I love the apricots and the crabby apples they produce.

I love all things Spring – proof of life, and the signs of things to come. There is so very much that happens in the slow, slow metamorphosis from seed to tree, from tree to seed bearer, it’s easy to get dazzled by the process. I never enjoy breathing in more than when every tree in my yard is flowering. My small piece of Earth feels cathedral, arched pillars wrapped in green garlands, draped in white, monarchs dressed in velvets of orange and black, gathering by the dozens; everything alive, whispering of holiness, spreading itself open, drinking deeply of the Divine, giving, receiving, worshipping.  

When the trees are just there for show, for the blossoms and for what they attract, it’s easy to become intoxicated by the growing, to not have a mind to the harvest. It is easy to have contempt for what has been heralded – for the tiny, tart thing – when Safeway down the street is importing Golden Delicious. You can’t even give crab-apples away – they brown with rot, squash beneath bare feet, get shovelled off the grass by the barrel full.

If every seed in every crab-apple on every crab-apple tree died, was planted, resurrected and grew into a fruit bearing tree which in turn seeded, season after season, producing and reproducing in exactly the same way – one tree for every seed – heaven help us.

Maybe it’s because we live in the land of the grocery store, but I do sometimes forget the purpose of the fruit to the tree. I think of an apple as food – I do not think of an apple as a seed bearer. I do not hold the glossy red flesh in my hand and think orchard.

And so I think it is very easy for me to misunderstand what is fully meant by the fruit of the Spirit. I have a tendency to think, The Spirit is an energy source.  I have a tendency to think, Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control are wholesome behaviours that are accessible in the Spirit, waiting to be born in me, to be stocked up and kept cool in the crisper for when they are needed. If I am annoyed with my children or with the woman working the drive-thru at Tim Hortons, I can take a deep breath, pull out patience and munch a really big bite of it.

But I don’t think that is the full picture – I think it stops far short of the whole point. I think it makes the fruit of the Spirit sound a little bit like Comfort food – a little bit like bumbleberry pie.

I wonder if having joy, peace, or patience in your own self isn’t a lot like those first buds that shoot forth from the branch in Spring. They are proof of life – but they are not the fruit. Getting a fruit tree to actually bear fruit can be quite a complex process, with more than a few variables: the size and the age of the tree, its exposure to the sun, the fertility of its soil, which trees are growing near to it, how regularly and wisely it is pruned, how the temperature holds after the buds appear, and how well it is protected from disease and pests. A fruit tree is not reliant upon its ability to bear fruit to live, to grow, to be beautiful – one can grow tall, bud and explode with beautiful blossoms without ever once producing an apricot.

But God didn’t make us just to look pretty – we were purposed to be host for God’s Spirit, and Spirit is a tree that bears fruit. The fruit of the Spirit growing in our lives – the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control – these things are not tools to equip us to be better people. They are not things that we reach for, they are not ways that we behave – they are not things that we do. They are the inevitable, natural outcropping of a life that is led by the Spirit.

Fruit is a by-product – it is the seed-bearing flesh that is picked off, rolled into a box, wrapped, and carried across borders, able to be placed freely into the hungry hands of another. It is the solid food that ripens and drops off by the bucket full, that you give to your neighbours, and that you call your friends over to help you gather, hoisting the ladder, shaking the tree – marvelling at how much, more than a person could ever hope to have a use for alone.

God has not given Spirit merely as a force to sustain us today, manna in the wilderness, fresh on the ground every morning. God has seeded into us with a mind to the harvest – in planting the seed, God has planted a tree, has planted an orchard, has planted a kingdom. The kingdom of God is tree to seed to tree again – it is ripe, bountiful and ever multiplying love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Thy kingdom come.