Thanksgiving for Fruitful Vines

Photo by Trista Wynne

Good evening, Beloved ~

On my heart tonight are the thickets of blackberries just behind our apartments.  Out of all of the wonderful smells we encounter in Your creation, the smell of ripening blackberries is one of my favorites.  Even our kitties enjoy the sweet scent!  I don't fully understand why the vines must be covered in such rigid prickles, however, when I reach in to help myself to this delicious fruit.

I wish they were more like the strawberry bushes with smooth, thin strands.  But perhaps then they would not be strong enough to hold such large, juicy fruit.  But what purpose do the thorns serve?

My mind wanders back to our church home up north, where lots of blackberry brambles covered the grounds. Every spring, the wild rabbits would use these thickets as a hiding place in which to build their burrows and bear their young.  The thorns serve as a natural deterrent to predators, protecting the little bunnies until they were strong enough to hop about on their own.  So, even though the thorns serve no good purpose for me, perhaps some of your creatures offer thanksgiving and songs of praise for the gifts of the blackberry brier.

It makes me wonder about Your teachings about the vine and the branches, Beloved.  I am the vine, you are the branches, You said.  Abide in my love. 

Photo by Trista Wynne

What kind of vine are You?  Are You smooth and silky like the strawberry's branch?  Are you solid and knotted like the wine-making grape?  Are you thick and thorny like the blackberry brier?

There is an image, Beloved, of a tree that bears all kinds of fruit and reaches across the many borders of water and land.  In the book of Revelation, when all kinds of people and all sorts of creatures are gearing up for some final battle, there is suddenly peace and calm.  No more war, no more tears, no more bloodshed. Only peace.  Only a tree, Your tree, the tree of life.

This tree, this vine, spans the boundaries of the river.  And my studies of Your Scriptures seem to show that the river is often a sign of boundaries of another kind.  So, Your tree, your vine, that bears a different kind of fruit in each month of the year, is a tree that spans the boundaries of time and space.  Your fruit feeds the masses, and the seeds from Your tree, from your vine, rain down for the healing of the nations.

Photo by Trista Wynne

Perhaps it doesn't really matter what kind of vine You are in the parable.  This much is most certainly true: Your fruit and your seeds are for the healing of all nations, even of all of creation.  One day, all who are hungry will be satisfied.  All who are thirsty will be quenched.  All who are mourning will be comforted.  All who are dying will have life.  All who are lost will be found.  All who are wounded, maimed or in pain will be healed.

There will be no more war, no more death, no more tears, no more suffering.  All of creation will be made new.  And all of this will come to pass on account of the great fruit of Your healing vine.

Ah, Beloved, I pray that we all will long to be grafted into Your vine.  May we all bear the fruit of Your healing, Your love and Your peace.  May the work that we do cause the world to take notice of the glorious fragrance of the ripening harvest of the Spirit as the Living Water of Christ flows deep into our roots.  Amen.