Waiting Time

by Liz Young

(Based on John 17:6-19)

The disciples had to wait between Jesus’s ascension and receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Sometimes we wait in happy expectation, such as waiting for Christmas; at other times, waiting can be a very precious time, such as when we share the journey with some one dying. I wonder how the disciples felt while they waited.

When my mother was dying of breast cancer, I spent the whole time grieving: I didn’t talk to her about how she was feeling. But my regret for doing that was the spur to me, to later say to children dying from leukaemia, and their death waited for by grieving parents: OK it’s your choice, shall we stop treatment now, and do what we can to help you die a good death? They were always prepared to stop treatment. They knew they were dying, the children, but they needed those around them to also know and accept the inevitable and talk about it.

Between his death on the cross and his ascension, Jesus met with His disciples over forty days. He walked with them, talked with them and broke bread with them: he prepared them for his ascension, his final departure. During this time he asked them to wait together in Jerusalem until they received the Holy Spirit, which they did.

In the reading from John’s Gospel, Jesus  prayed to God the Father, “I have made your name known to those whom you gave me. They know everything you have given me, is from you.” Ie, the disciples knew that the words that Jesus used when he was teaching, and shared with them, came from God.
Their experience of his resurrection was unexpected by them. The two on the journey to Emmaus took time to recognize Him, and I must say Thomas’s reaction is the one that rings most true to me. But they all accepted that he had risen from the dead.

Jesus will finally leave his disciples at the ascension: and he has left them prepared. He had sent them out practising healing and preaching during his ministry. He has warned them again that he is leaving them. But they have trust and faith in him, they know he will be there for them in Spirit. He has given them the knowledge and understanding to pass on his teaching to others. The gift of the Holy Spirit would inspire the disciples to preach, to repeat the parables Jesus had told them and discussed their meaning with them. The disciples knew Jesus, they had lived with him for three years. He’d taught them how they should live their daily lives. They wanted to share their experiences of him, Jesus, with others.

Waiting time: those of us born into a Christian family, attending Sunday School and church, we have to wait to develop our own personal faith, we have to mature. We have to experience temptation, doubts and mistakes before we can develop a personal relationship with Christ. Those whose parents aren’t Christians or whose parents’ practice of Christianity doesn’t fit in with a child’s natural sense of justice, will be introduced to a personal relationship with Christ at varying stages of their lives, and develop a relationship with Christ for different reasons.

All over the world Christians have different daily experiences. Here in New Zealand we are rarely challenged, as those Christians in Pakistan and other places of religious conflict are. But we need to be on the alert for racism and challenge it when it’s implied, as well as when it’s obvious. We need to value difference as part of life’s rich tapestry instead of devaluing or criticizing it. To explore what we have in common. We need to value the humanity in everyone we meet, and be open to altering our opinions, to aim for empathy and warmth.
We need to be generous of Spirit, looking for opportunities to help rather than criticize those who are poor or unsuccessful. How much time do two parents who are working full time have to care for their children? Those of us who are retired have time: are there ways in which we can share it more?

For many years the early Christians expected Jesus to return in Glory, soon. Now, two thousand years later, I don’t expect that to happen physically, but I reason and believe that if I, and we, follow his teachings, which were based on everyday life experiences, and apply them to our lives; and we believe in his resurrection, we will know that he will be here alongside us as we make our daily choices, and live our daily lives.

Lesson from the Laundry

Today I chose to do the washing. I could have waited a couple of days or so for better weather, but …
I looked out and saw a cloudy sky, with a small patch of blue, and a hint of the sun’s ray. But the deciding factor was the breeze. Enough to wiggle the trees.

Perfect.
I can always bring the washing inside if it starts to look iffy; hang it on the horse. Put the horse outside when the clouds disperse.
Washing in, washing out, washing in, washing out …
Some people stress about doing that. All right, I do too.  Ever watching the weather …
Silly, really.  If it gets wet, it gets wet. I have other clothes! If it stays out till nearly dark, that’s OK too. It’s not my preference – my dear mum’s advice echos through my mind: “Bring your washing in before nightfall…”
But, still …
A neighbour’s washing got left out for a couple of days in a row a while back, through a storm, then sunshine, then rain. They didn’t seem to stress about it. It eventually dried and they took it in.

It occurs to me that my approach to my faith journey is not unlike the attitude that I bring to laundry. When it’s sunny (things are going well), I happily trust God with my washing.  But sometimes it’s cloudy … Oh, oh, a storm is on the way.  What should I do?  Bring it in?  Leave it out?  Oh, my … I find myself doing the in and out washing two-step.  I lay down my problems, Lord …
“Be anxious for nothing,” he says.
But I take them back up again, until, nope, I lay them down …
Oh, no, now it’s pouring and I missed getting the washing in. Where did that storm come from?

More stress!

I have to remind myself, God sees the storm too, is with me in the storm.  He’s not worried about it, or the washing for that matter.  He knows the turbulence will pass, and the washing and I will come through just fine.

Hmm …
How much does my laundry dilemma transfer to other things in life?  Quite a lot.  It’s part of my psyche.  The washing is trivial, sure. But if I’m to adopt the whole analogy I must learn not to stress about things.  This thing or that thing or anything!  Stress not, Keri.  It all comes out in the wash …

I really have to think about this.

In the meantime, I’m smiling as I watch my clothes looping and dancing in the breeze against the cloudy sky. They even look joyful.

Keri P

Fruit-bearing

by Ken Francis

(Based on John 15:1-8 and I Cor 3: 5-14)

This Gospel passage about fruit-bearing set me a-searching – not for the first time, I might say – for evidence of fruit in my own life.  This passage clearly says, if you abide in me, Jesus, you will bear much fruit.  Ok, Ken … where is the fruit?

My first stocktake wasn’t promising.  Presumably ‘fruit’ means healings and miracles and souls saved, right?  Well, if right, my life is pretty well fruitless.  In fact, I’ve had some big fails.  Just recently I asked a friend to men’s breakfast – but he said, no, I’m not into that sort of thing.  Actually, in the ten houses – I did a count – we have lived in over time, I’ve never even managed to get a neighbour along to anything.

So, I’m thinking, not much fruit to show …  Ergo, according to these verses, I am a branch to be cut off and discarded.

But deeper reflection doesn’t accept this.  I know God won’t discard me just because I haven’t brought many souls to salvation, or healed anyone.  How do I know?  Well, there are plenty of other Scriptures that say different.  For example,
Eph 2:8, 9 says, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith —not by works, so that no one can boast.”  So the fruit in John 15 can’t just be good works – things I can point to and say, ‘Look what I did!’
Also, you heard St Paul saying, in I Cor 3, “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.  So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.”

Then there’s the whole life of David.  David did some awful things once he was King, and could really be judged a complete failure as a Christian!  What fruit do you see resulting from David’s adult life?  Apart from his Psalms, it’s hard to find.  And yet he wasn’t discarded … “cut off”.  On the contrary, Acts 10 describes David as “a man after [God’s] own heart, [who] shall fulfil all my will.”

Enough, on what Jesus didn’t mean by fruit bearing.  What did he mean?  This is the critical thing.  What is he telling us here?  What fruit is Jesus looking for from us?
There are clues in the passage.  For one thing, Jesus is not telling us to “bear fruit”.  He’s telling us to “abide in him”!  “Abide” means to dwell, hang around, remain, and carries the idea of resting, enjoying, soaking it up …  “Anchor yourself in me,” Jesus is saying, “and watch what happens!”

Then, in the verses just following the ones we read, Jesus talks a lot about love – his love for us, our love for him, our love for each other … so it’s reasonable to infer that one of the fruits he’s talking about is love – for him and each other.  Do we recognise the fruit of love in our life?  A love grown in us through abiding in him?  Godly love, that is?  With its sisters compassion, charity, mercy, etc.  Are we bearing such fruit?  “Abide in me,” says Jesus, “and you’ll find love flowing and outworking all over the place!”

The idea of love and compassion being fruits leads us to another prominent statement in the New Testament – Galatians 5:22 – which lists “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” as fruits of the Spirit.  Do we recognise these things flowing in our lives?

And a few other things occur to me, which might be considered God-produced fruit: how about forgiveness, encouragement of others, promotion of justice, wisdom …?  Any of these fruits in your life?
Is prayer a fruit?  Especially intercessory prayer?  Why not?  I’ve been moved to pray for the last ten days for India, overwhelmed by the coronavirus.  ‘Moved’, I say, because it comes of abiding in Christ.  Fruited.

Matthew Henry is helpful, in his commentary: on these verses he says, “From a vine we look for grapes; from a Christian we look for Christianity.  That is, a Christian temper and disposition, a Christian life and conversation.  We honour God and do good as best we can, and this is bearing fruit.”

CS Lewis floated the idea of compound interest:  He wrote, “Good and evil both increase at compound interest.  That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance.” The little things can have exponential outcomes that we are probably not even aware of.

There’s a corporate aspect too.  We are the church.  Or part of it.  Acts 2:47 describes how the Christians “devoted themselves to the … teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.  Everyone was filled with awe … All the believers were together”, giving to anyone who had need and “praising God and enjoying the favour of all the people.”  And as a result – and here’s the fruit, folks – “the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.”  Wouldn’t we like to see that.

The thing is, is it God-produced, because we abide in Him?  That’s the key.  We can do these things on our own, of course – in our own strength.  We don’t need God to be able to encourage others, or be compassionate, etc.  But that doesn’t count here.  Because Jesus says, “No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me … apart from me you can do nothing!”  There are many people doing great things around the world, and good on them.  But unless they are “abiding in him”, they are not bearing fruit in this way.  Those endeavours are not to God’s glory.  “This is to my Father’s glory,” says Jesus in verse 8, “that you bear much fruit.”

The Christian walk is a tricky thing.  It’s simple, but it’s hard.  We need to strike a balance between doing our best and, simultaneously, leaving things to God (the actual gardener) (the actual fruit-producer). 
I argue that the fruit lies in the attitude (disposition perhaps a better word), not the outcome, because the outcome is God’s responsibility.  Ours is the availability, His is the responsibility. 

So, let’s be available, let’s be intentional, let’s be obedient to what seem like Godly impulses.  (Which can lead to awkward mistakes, but, hey, let’s be willing to take chances, as we abide in the vine.)

When a man in the Old Testament, Micah by name, asked what the Lord required of him, God’s response was, “Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.”  (Micah 6:8) We can do that.  Let’s do that.  And let’s learn to abide in Him as He abides in us.

Amen

Musing on Trees and Gardens

Trees (and gardens) are on my mind this fortnight.

Liz Young, fellowshipper and worshipper at St Francis Church, and enthusiastic appreciator of all things pastoral, writes, “As I counted the number of trees around my garden this week, I found that, twenty years ago, I had planted twenty different native species and varieties: four different pohutakawa from the Pacific (Lord Howe Island, Hawaii, the Kermadecs and Tahiti) and sixteen different New Zealand native species. As I expressed this with some pride to my brother in Canada, it occurred to us that in the garden that we grew up in, a centuries old ‘monastic’ house near Glastonbury Abbey, they had planted ten different English species there. The chicken run in which I played was under a yew and the swing was hung from a walnut tree. Impressive to me, but I was awed to read in JT Salmon’s book of NZ trees to learn that New Zealand, with its more temperate climate, has more than a hundred different species of tree.  Thanks be to God the creator.”

Certainly.

Speciation is a fascinating topic that I won’t go in to, but few of us would be so blasé as not to recognise with wonder and awe the huge range and variety and complexity of plants around us here in the Coromandel.  Without even reaching for a microscope (which I don’t have anyway, so I’ll change the image …) Without even leaving my seat, I can count ten different types of tree beyond my window, of multifarious shapes and colours and design.  They’re nearly all green, but a closer squint brings notice that they are ten different shades of green.  Awesome.  No two species are the same, and, actually, if you look really closely, with or without a microscope, you’ll observe that every leaf on every tree is different.

I’m moved to muse languidly and perhaps not so insightfully that trees are amazing.  Plants (and animals) are amazing.  And gardens – nature generally – all amazing.  Thanks be to God the creator, plagiarising Liz’s (hopefully non-copyrighted) line.

Which reminds me: there’s heaps about trees and gardens in the Bible; it’s a general theme, if you care to look for it.  In Genesis 1 we’re already in a garden (with some rather strange trees and a talking serpent), and in Revelation 22 we’re again in a (very different sort of a) garden: one with a “river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing … on each side of the river [stands] the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.  No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city …”

And in between that first and last chapter, gardens pop up all over the place, most dramatically and compellingly in Gethsemane, the night before Jesus’s crucifixion.

Thematic, yes.  Fanciful?  Allegorical?

Maybe to some.  But gardens are clearly important to and valued by the Creator, and we carry a hint and shadow of that value in our own chests as we look on his creation around us and marvel.

Liz Y and Ken F