Above the Clouds

Sometimes stars shine

Brightly through the night;

Sometimes clouds hide

Every gleam of light.

But concealed stars

Still release their light—

Just as God’s gaze

Shines above our night.

The Pursuit of Fruit

“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me” (John 15:4).

One morning while the washing machine cha-rugged the clothes clean, a knock sounded at my back door. A neighbor lady surprised me with a bag of homegrown apples. She said that when giving away the fruit, in return she asks only that others enjoy it. I gratefully hefted her gift into my home.

Lately I have been obsessed with fruit—the spiritual kind. How could I be more fruitful? How could I bring more glory to God?

Wanting answers, I jumped into research mode. I listened to sermons about fruit; I studied applicable Bible passages and commentaries on them; I discussed fruit with others; I prayed. Finally, I found the key: Forget the fruit.

Although I may pray for fruitfulness, my focus must be on abiding in Christ; He is responsible for producing the fruit.  

I knew that abiding in Christ involved regularly reading and heeding the Word of God, praying, communing with Christ—reasonable responsibilities. But the more I examined abiding, the more I understood that it is much more than what I do—it is who I am. Abiding affects my motives, my mind-set, my all. 

As a writer, I also have reasonable responsibilities—studying the craft, producing words, polishing them. But I need to undertake even these tasks, knowing that God must enable me—without Him I can do nothing. Abiding is about continuously cultivating my relationship with Christ and recognizing my dependence on Him. In other words, if I want to be a fruitful branch for the Master Gardener, I must abide in the Vine. 

That morning when the bag of apples arrived, I had been focusing on my household responsibilities. It works the same way in the spiritual realm. When I focus on abiding in Christ, He produces the fruit.

Water and the Word

Light steps caress bright grass adorned with dew.

 Her bucket brims—the well’s clear gift

Below a tanned and callused hand.

At home, she pours this liquid life—

A waterfall to quench, refresh, renew.

She washes sleep and morning work away;

Revival flows to ready cells.

When scorners hurl hot words at her,

She douses fire in the air.

She drinks and offers water every day.

God’s Glass

A broken bottle lands on shore,

No longer useful anymore.

The wind and waves begin to roar!

But God has plans for broken things.

...

That broken glass returns to shore—

Each piece much smoother than before—

No longer useless anymore,

For God recycles broken things.

And God can use the surging sea

To smooth each edge on broken me.

He sends the storm; He sets me free!

My God delights in broken things.

Wildflower Ways

When I was almost 4 my family visited the countryside of Quebec. I tasted wild strawberries for the first time; I marveled at cows peacefully grazing in pastures. But what do I recall most? Fields covered with wildflowers. At the time I simply enjoyed their beauty and variety: daisies, black-eyed Susans, buttercups. I delighted in God’s creation like never before.

And not only are wildflowers delightful to behold, but they can also be useful. A friend mentioned that her children were outdoors gathering dandelions. When I asked why, she said that her family planned to make honey. I had heard of dandelion tea, but honey? Later she surprised me with a jar of fragrant, fresh honey.

Wildflowers are beautiful and useful, but they also symbolize humility. An allegory I read pointed out that wildflowers never care whether people notice them or not. They simply bloom for the glory of God, content wherever He allows them to grow. 

After reading that, I reflected anew on those flowery fields in Canada. They had a deeper meaning than I had realized back then; by now I appreciate the memory for much more than its beauty. Those wildflowers remind me of what God wants me to be—humble and content wherever He chooses to plant me.