St. John 15:1-8
April 29, 2018
Easter 5B
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
It’s so close you can almost taste it . . . or smell it. The growing season is about to begin! A cold, cruel, and snowy April has delayed our annual spring “greening.” We’ve been below normal for so long that we’ve forgotten what normal feels like. But in order to absorb what Jesus is teaching us this morning about vines and branches, I need you to imagine—to imagine a day in the not-too-distant future when lawn mowers are mowing—when blossoms are blooming—when the sweet smell of lilac is drifting through your backyard—and everything is green and growing. When that day finally arrives (and it will), remember this: Jesus is the vine; we are the branches who draw our life from Him.
In addition, Jesus tells us that His Father is the “vinedresser,” what we would call the “gardener.” He’s the guy with the dirt under his fingernails and the pruning clippers hanging on his belt. And what He does with those clippers is done with surgical precision. He cuts off every branch that doesn’t bear fruit; while every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. He’s not clipping randomly or just hacking away. No, these are selective, strategic cuts, applied precisely just above a tender bud. He carefully distinguishes green wood from dead wood. And He has but one purpose: To make the branch (to make you!) even more fruitful. And fruit happens on new growth—on buds that have been spurred into action by carefully calculated pruning.
This imagery is all borrowed from the vineyard. (And it’s too bad we can’t all travel to Napa Valley to see this with our own eyes—and perhaps to sample a glass or two of the final product.) But understand this: the “fruit” Jesus has planned for His branches is something much greater than grapes. In Galatians Paul writes that the “fruit of the Spirit” looks like this: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. This is the fruit that Jesus wants hanging in abundance on every one of His branches, including you.
This fruit is not a “to do list.” Nor is it a list of rules, as in, “Thou shalt be joyful.” No, the fruit of the Spirit is simply what grows in—and flows from—a heart that trusts Jesus—a heart that clings to Jesus’ death and resurrection and believes His holy Word. We might say that fruit happens “automatically” when the branch is healthy and properly pruned. If the Vine is alive—and if the life of the Vine is flowing into the branch—then fruit happens. And it often happens in abundance.
Now, if anything impedes the flow of life from the vine to its branch—if the branch is severed from the vine—the branch will wither and die and will become fruitless dead wood, to be cut off, gathered up and burned. What could possibly sever us from our Savior? What could hinder the flow of His life into our lives? Our own sinful nature stands in the way. What Paul calls the “works of the flesh,” these are what stand in the way of God having His way with us: these works of the flesh include (but are not limited to) sex outside of marriage, adultery, immoral living, idolatry, anger, envy, divisions, drunkenness, and the like. These are the things Jesus died to take away from us. These are the things our baptism washed away. These dead works need to be cut out and pruned from our lives. We need to confess them and turn from them. If not, these sins will deaden you and sever you from your Savior.
This is where God comes along with His pruning tools. Pruning is painful. Pruning is not pretty. Sometimes, when life deals us a severe setback we wonder why. So, too, when our lives are touched by tragedy. Or when failure crowns our efforts instead of success, and our goals remain unmet. Or when sickness and suffering and pain seem to be our constant companion. In times like these we often wonder why—or “what did I do to deserve this?” or we think that God has abandoned us. But have you ever considered that you’re being pruned? Pruned, not punished—pruned by the Master Gardener so that your life can be more fruitful—bearing greater love, deeper joy, limitless patience, supreme kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control—far more than you could have produced otherwise?
Can you think of a time in your life when God was pruning you? Or have you seen it in the life of another Christian? Someone who’s basically a wallflower Christian, barely recognizable as a child of God, always busy, distracted and overwhelmed—that person suffers some great loss—loss of health, loss of family, loss of reputation, loss of their carefully crafted normalcy. And there’s tremendous grief and sorrow. But instead of shaking your fist at God or cutting Him off, you turn to Him in your misery. You embrace the loss and accept it. You turn to the Word. You confess your sins with increased attention and awareness. You receive the body and blood of Jesus with greater devotion—with greater hunger and thirst. And you find that the most difficult and painful times in your life can also be the most “fruitful.” God’s Word takes root in you. It grows and blossoms. And you suddenly know what it is to have peace—peace that passes understanding.
On your own—apart from Jesus—that will never happen. No amount of self-help and no amount of counseling can create in you a peaceful, fruitful life. For no branch can bear fruit by itself. It must be joined to the vine. Apart from the vine, it will wither, dry up, and die. “Apart from me,” Jesus says, “you can do nothing.” That’s the second point of our text, and it’s critically important: This is not about you, but about Christ at work in you—His life in your life—Jesus making you more and more fruitful.
Good fruit comes from Jesus. Peace, patience, love, gentleness—all of that—it all originates with Jesus. It comes out of His perfect, sinless life—out of His innocent suffering and death—out of the open, empty tomb of His resurrection. Good fruit comes from the life of Jesus flowing into each one of you. He’s the vine; we’re the branches. Abiding in Him, we gladly hear and learn His Word. We eat and drink His body and His blood. What happens here each Sunday morning—this is the stuff of “vine and branches.” Jesus the Vine is feeding and nourishing His branches to be fruitful.
But when we cut ourselves off from the Vine—when we despise preaching and His Word—why are we surprised when our faith falters? By the way, I recently learned that to “despise” something like God’s Word doesn’t mean to “hate” it. No, to despise preaching and the Word is simply to see it as something of little value—to view it as unimportant and unworthy of your time and attention. We despise the sacrament of His body and blood too, treating it as mere bread and wine. When we despise or refuse these precious gifts, why are we then surprised to feel dried up, withered, and fruitless? It’s all so unnecessary.
God has embraced you in the death of His Son, baptized you, forgiven your sins, welcomed you to the Holy Meal of His body and blood. He has grafted you to the True Vine, and He prunes you lovingly, carefully, strategically, to make you even more fruitful. Jesus is the Vine and He’s always there—always faithful, always forgiving, always urging and welcoming you: “Come unto me, all you who are weary. I am the vine. You are my branches. Come and have life to the full—life that lasts forever.”
Jesus wants you to be fruitful, to live large in His life, to live freely in His forgiveness. It is to His Father’s glory that you bear much fruit—that your life be filled with love and joy, peace and patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control—and that you be His disciple, trusting Him in life and in death. You are the branches. He is your Vine. In Him you are fruitful.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment