We’re praying this
so that you can live lives that are worthy of the Lord and pleasing to him in
every way: by producing fruit in every good work and growing in the knowledge
of God
Colossians
1:10
Two years ago we had pole beans in our garden. They grew
well and had lush green leaves but we only got a handful of beans. We also had
some scrawny tomato vines that produced an initial flurry of tomatoes, leading
us to think we would have great production all summer, but because they were
such weak vines, they quickly perished in the heat.
Neither plant was an asset to the garden. What we want are
plants that both grow and produce fruit. That is what God wants from us as
well. I can apply myself to knowledge about God, participating in Bible studies
and analyzing scripture. If that is the extent of my effort, I am nothing but
an educated fool, a big empty sack of information, all head but no heart. I may
know scripture, but I use it as a weapon against others, a sword that divides
instead of a balm that heals. In contrast,
if I devote myself only to service, I may produce fruit, but it is fruit that
comes out of my own strength and ability, and I will likely burn out. The folks
that say “I’ve done my share of church work” are a good illustration of fruit
without growth.
Fruit production, if it is to be sustained and Kingdom-bringing,
has to be augmented with growth, and vice versa. There has to be inward growth
in faith and in intimacy with God (knowing God, not just knowing about God). We
don’t force the fruit. We focus on being connected to the Vine. If we do that,
the fruit production takes care of itself, by God’s action in and through us.
I believe that a significant reason the institutional
church does not appeal to folks is that they don’t see us growing and producing
fruit. Often, the growth people see is knowledge that defends and excludes.
When the focus of our “knowledge” is on condemning instead of understanding, on
certainty instead of mystery, on proving ourselves right instead of recognizing
our own blindness, then what we proclaim as growth is poison ivy.
In our efforts to keep Christianity “pure,” we produce
vapid fruit—perfect and pretty to look at, but devoid of taste—like a Red
Delicious apple. Our fruit just looks like one more activity for people to add
to their already overstuffed lives. Without passion that is cultivated through
a growing relationship with Christ, church gets dropped from one’s to-do list.
I would rather be part of a church filled with characters—misshapen,
odd-looking fruit—than a church that looks like a bowl of plastic fruit. I want
to be with those who hunger and thirst for more of Christ, who live hopeful and
faith-filled lives instead of lives of pessimism and gloom. I want to be part
of a church that is a living, breathing, growing plant, where fruit production is
the result of being rooted and grounded in Christ.