Luke 13:6-9 (KJV)
He spake also this parable; A certain
man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came and sought fruit
thereon, and found none. Then said he unto the dresser of his vineyard, Behold,
these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and find none: cut it
down; why cumbereth it the ground? And he answering said unto him, Lord, let it
alone this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it: And if it bear
fruit, well: and if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down.
So there’s this guy, he has had this land w/ fig trees on it for as long as he can remember, acquired as a sweetener in some big land deal years ago...And after years of benign neglect, season after season when the fruitfulness of the fig trees didn’t make a bit of difference to his bottom line, this guy is suddenly facing a financial crunch.
And so, for this guy, the fig trees go from afterthoughts to scapegoats. Take note: this guy is so frustrated with his own fruitlessness that he begins to obsess over the fig tree.
“Look,” this guy says to the vinedresser, who hasn’t seen him in years:: “I’ve got to start getting some return on this land. And if these lousy plants won’t produce, then why in the world are we letting them take up space?! Go ahead, cut it down, and let’s get something profitable going on this little patch.”
“Master,” counseled the vinedresser, “like I told you when we planted these figs, patience is necessary with this variety. Give me one more season. A little digging, a little dunging, and this fig vine will produce the sweetest, most succulent fruit you’ve ever tasted. All it needs is a little help. Besides, anything you try to plant after ripping this up will take years to bear fruit. Why not give it one more season?”
The grumpy owner, reluctantly seeing his vinedresser’s point, walks away abruptly, and trails these words behind him, “One more season, but if your digging and dunging don’t work, that’s it for this vine.”
We can be impatient and unwise “masters” of our own lives. Especially when crises come. In a crisis, we can lurch from one area of our lives to another, seeking instant remedies to deep-rooted problems. Like the impetuous master Jesus tells us about, we need a vinedresser to remind us how deceptive our instincts can be--especially when we’re in crisis mode.
For it is in crisis times that I find myself tugging at the roots of my devotional time, mumbling quick prayers at a meal and skipping Scripture study completely. It is during crises that I yank mercilessly against my body’s limits, adding coffee and subtracting exercise. It is during crises that I neglect courtesies to others that might otherwise convey hospitality and kindness. In other words, like the foolish master in Jesus’ story, I can be so hasty in my desire to do something about whatever predicament I’m facing that I don’t acknowledge or allow for the quiet work of growth God has already begun. And so I uproot shoots that God has nurtured in or around me.
This tendency to uproot God’s work in favor of feeding our own insecurities has become clearer to me during my extended convalescence after a bone marrow transplant. I’ve always mouthed the ministry motto: Don’t just do something, sit there! Living into that slogan, allowing space and time for God to work on the crises around me, has proven harder than reciting it. But arresting the urge to “fix” things is often a matter of learning to wait. Waiting for prayers to be answered. Waiting for a friend who will listen and offer wise counsel. Waiting for the Holy Spirit to act when my actions would all be based on my anxious need not to sit there, but to DO SOMETHING!
Part of the reason, I believe, for our tendency to “jump in” and do something, is that in our culture, that’s what heroes do. Heroes are brave and aggressive and endowed with gifts that shine all the brighter in times of duress. But coming to terms with our weakness--with our inability to win every showdown, to achieve every goal, to overcome every obstacle--is as much a part of the life of faith as learning to “get our hands dirty.”
Learning to sit, wait, and receive can be the most challenging spiritual discipline there is because it removes the agency from our own hands and places it squarely in the hands of Another. And as we relinquish our own grip on this or that fig plant, which we would just as soon pull out of the ground, the bottom line question is: do we trust the vinedresser to work while we wait? Do we trust the One who has promised to dig and dung our lives into fruitfulness? (This is another way of asking--does God really think these matters in my life are worth digging around in dung?!) And finally, can we relinquish our impulse to take charge in order to hear the vinedresser’s counsel: let it alone and leave it in my care. If another season passes, and there’s no fruit, it’s yours. Until then, leave it to me.
It is said that Martin Luther would pray 2 hours each morning before engaging the busy-ness of his day. On a very busy day, however, Luther would pray for 3 hours in the morning instead.
So I am trying to make way for the cultivation of that kind of patience, trusting heaven’s scale to discern both when I need to wait and for how long. I strain some days to hear the counsel of the vinedresser, and some days I confess I ignore it altogether. But today, reading this story, I trust that the vinedresser’s digging and dunging is the only way any of my fields can bear fruit that lasts.
PS For those of you who know me well, if you see me tugging at something I’ve identified as a big problem in my life, tap me on the shoulder and ask if I’ve talked it over with the vinedresser.
