But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God. I trust in God's unfailing love forever and forever. For what You have done, I will always praise You in the presence of Your faithful people. And I will hope in Your name for Your name is good. (vs. 8-9)
And I'm an olive tree, growing green in God's house. I trusted in the generous mercy of God then and now. I thank You always that you went into action. And I'll stay right here, Your good name my hope, in company with Your faithful friends. (The Message Bible)
"I am the Vine and you are the branches. When you're joined with Me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest if sure to be abundant. Separated, you can't produce a thing." Jesus right before He died. (John 15)
The evil, God uproots. The righteous, God plants. He is the Gardener. The Vinedresser, walking among the grape vines and pruning away what is deadwood. Bill and I just returned from a trip to Tahoe then back through wine country in Paso Robles. There we walked through the Opolo Vineyard and had lunch among the vines heavy with new grapes, their green leaves sparkling in the summer sun. Bearing much fruit. But we have driven through those same vineyards in winter. The vines are severely pruned and woody, sticking up from the dark soil like so much kindling buried in mockery of the leafy green abundance to come. Hard to believe the spindly deadwood could ever produce a leaf, much less a grape.
That is I. Stripped and barren, a dead limb planted by God in the hopes of summer blossoming and fall harvesting. No life in me until He planted me in the soil of His amazing love. I know I looked strange there to those who knew me, for they couldn't imagine, either, that I would bear fruit. That I would be beautiful for Christ. But the Vinedresser watered me. Pruned me back even more than when I first came into the vineyard to grow among the other vines. It hurt. Not going to lie about that. Because I was new to the place, I had no idea why He would cut more branches off. Of course, I knew the limbs were useless, but, hey, they were my limbs! Added to the water that moistened my shriveled roots was Miracle Grow. Fellowship with like vines....the older more established grape makers. The Words of the Vinedresser pulsing through the veins of my parched limbs as I was grafted into the best Vine in all of the fields. Not overnight, but day by day, my roots plumped, wriggling their toes down into the damp, cool soil and catching on there. That first season I was pelleted by wind and rain. Had to hang on tightly. Funny, though, the adversity made me stronger. More deeply attached.
Miraculously, one day I noticed a little bulge on a couple of my limbs. Then more and more, like a bursting of my skin, so rich was the nourishment coursing through me. I didn't have to hold my breath and push out the leaves and grapes. Their appearance seemed the most natural by-product of my planting. It occurred to me that I had nothing to do with the adornment of my once wizened body. The Vinedresser knew just how to make me fruitful.
From time to time, in different seasons of my life in the vineyard, I must be pruned. Deadwood cut back so new growth can emerge. Still a bit painful. But I am now accustomed to the fact the Vinedresser knows best. He has a vision for this particular little branch and for all the other branches in the vineyard. The Vinedresser is always walking among the branches drinking in the beauty of the conforming whole while noting with joy the individual beauty of a single plant.
I think, like the psalmist, that I will stay right here. Thankful to be so well cared for. Constantly amazed by the grapes bursting from this branch that once was dead. Comfortably rooted in the rich soil of His grace and mercy, hanging on to it with all my heart through sunshine and storm.
And I'm an olive tree, growing green in God's house. I trusted in the generous mercy of God then and now. I thank You always that you went into action. And I'll stay right here, Your good name my hope, in company with Your faithful friends. (The Message Bible)
"I am the Vine and you are the branches. When you're joined with Me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest if sure to be abundant. Separated, you can't produce a thing." Jesus right before He died. (John 15)
The evil, God uproots. The righteous, God plants. He is the Gardener. The Vinedresser, walking among the grape vines and pruning away what is deadwood. Bill and I just returned from a trip to Tahoe then back through wine country in Paso Robles. There we walked through the Opolo Vineyard and had lunch among the vines heavy with new grapes, their green leaves sparkling in the summer sun. Bearing much fruit. But we have driven through those same vineyards in winter. The vines are severely pruned and woody, sticking up from the dark soil like so much kindling buried in mockery of the leafy green abundance to come. Hard to believe the spindly deadwood could ever produce a leaf, much less a grape.
That is I. Stripped and barren, a dead limb planted by God in the hopes of summer blossoming and fall harvesting. No life in me until He planted me in the soil of His amazing love. I know I looked strange there to those who knew me, for they couldn't imagine, either, that I would bear fruit. That I would be beautiful for Christ. But the Vinedresser watered me. Pruned me back even more than when I first came into the vineyard to grow among the other vines. It hurt. Not going to lie about that. Because I was new to the place, I had no idea why He would cut more branches off. Of course, I knew the limbs were useless, but, hey, they were my limbs! Added to the water that moistened my shriveled roots was Miracle Grow. Fellowship with like vines....the older more established grape makers. The Words of the Vinedresser pulsing through the veins of my parched limbs as I was grafted into the best Vine in all of the fields. Not overnight, but day by day, my roots plumped, wriggling their toes down into the damp, cool soil and catching on there. That first season I was pelleted by wind and rain. Had to hang on tightly. Funny, though, the adversity made me stronger. More deeply attached.
Miraculously, one day I noticed a little bulge on a couple of my limbs. Then more and more, like a bursting of my skin, so rich was the nourishment coursing through me. I didn't have to hold my breath and push out the leaves and grapes. Their appearance seemed the most natural by-product of my planting. It occurred to me that I had nothing to do with the adornment of my once wizened body. The Vinedresser knew just how to make me fruitful.
From time to time, in different seasons of my life in the vineyard, I must be pruned. Deadwood cut back so new growth can emerge. Still a bit painful. But I am now accustomed to the fact the Vinedresser knows best. He has a vision for this particular little branch and for all the other branches in the vineyard. The Vinedresser is always walking among the branches drinking in the beauty of the conforming whole while noting with joy the individual beauty of a single plant.
I think, like the psalmist, that I will stay right here. Thankful to be so well cared for. Constantly amazed by the grapes bursting from this branch that once was dead. Comfortably rooted in the rich soil of His grace and mercy, hanging on to it with all my heart through sunshine and storm.
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