Dead, or Dormant?

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"The gardener answered, ‘Sir, give it one more chance. Leave it another year, and I’ll give it special attention and plenty of fertilizer. If we get figs next year, fine. If not, then you can cut it down.’”
-Luke 13:8 (Jesus telling a story) 

Last week I had a frustrating chat with customer service. In the early spring we planted a beautiful Bing cherry tree. Being a rather inexperienced fruit tree grower, I only learned after planting it that we needed another different type of cherry tree beside it to pollinate it, or we'd never see any fruit. Well that right there is its own incredible metaphor for relationship, but today's story is about the next step. We did some research and decided to buy a Rainier cherry tree to do the job. 

Since we couldn't find one locally, we had to order one online. The four-foot sapling arrived several weeks later after being shipped during a major heatwave. The unboxing was underwhelming. The sapling was dry and didn't look so great. We got it planted and watered right away. The purchase included a "failure to thrive" one-year warranty, so I knew that was an option if needed. 

Sure enough, over two months later, the leaves were no different than the day we planted it, except they were curling and a little brown. So this week I took a bunch of pictures and contacted customer service to get a replacement. Now I'm fully aware that the business doesn't want to replace any tree unnecessarily because it costs them profit. But at the same time the agent seemed to genuinely hear my story and want to help. She made me go out and do the "scratch test" on the bark with my fingernail, and see if there was green growth underneath. There was, and I knew that. "I know it's not dead. But I also know it's not growing like it should. Can I just replace it, please? I'm not trying to rip you off. I just want a tree that will produce fruit." 

She looked at it some more. "I just don't think it's time to give up on it yet," she said. "It's still got life, and this is sometimes part of the process. Let's give it a little more time and see what happens before giving up. I think it may turn around. Make sure it's well watered and that you keep mulch around it, but keep it a few inches away from the trunk."

I ended the chat, significantly irritated. Seriously. Give me a replacement. I don't have the patience for things that aren't growing when you're doing all the right things to help them. 

Oh, crap. 

Jesus tells a story in Luke about a fig tree that went a few years without bearing fruit. The owner is done with wasting his time. It's time to chop it down, throw it away, and move on. But the gardener intervenes! "It's not actually dead—it's just struggling to produce! Give me one more year to work with it. I've got hope. It's not dead." 

And without hesitation, the owner agrees to give it one more chance. And the story ends. 
In the immediate context, this is a story about God's ongoing patience with Israel even when they are slow to repent and turn toward God's gift of life and relationship. 
But within this little story is also the larger nature of the kingdom of God. Patience and care even when fruit isn't emerging. Jesus seems to have this belief (contrary to me) that just because something is dormant and struggling, that doesn't mean it's beyond hope. 

I remembered that story later after my call, and I couldn't shake it. I looked up research on dormant trees and found out that many trees, when they are too dry or the weather is too severe, go dormant for months. But they eventually begin growing again, becoming healthy and fruitful. And suddenly I saw myself and my frustrations and my impatience with so many things hanging all over those brownish, curling leaves. 

I look around at some elements of our world and the attitudes that people have about one another, and the political landscape and the levels of stress and distraction and on and on and on.... and I feel like I'm looking at a fruitless, withering tree. I don't see any life or any hope. I can also look at people I care about and wonder why on earth growth doesn't seem to be happening. And the kicker—I can easily look at areas of my own life that aren't bearing the fruit that I desire, and be tempted to move toward despair or anger. 

That's what I see. But what I don't see is that real life is still there, and it can lead to good fruit. The kingdom of God is one where nothing is beyond God's redemptive reach. There is nothing in our world, and nothing within us, that God is willing to give up on. 

I'm realizing that I give up much more quickly than God does. On myself, on others, on the church, and on our world. 

So now I actually care about this stupid tree, and instead of just wanting to replace it, I actually want to really help the thing thrive and start growing. And it's true that it may die, and need to be replaced with something new. That happens in our lives too, with things that truly are not able to bear fruit. And when that time comes, that's fine. But I want to choose patience and care for as long as I am able. I want to believe in what's possible. I want to acknowledge that life is still in things that I've nearly given up on, and that God is still at work in them. And therefore, I will keep caring and cultivating too. 

Today, what are you ready to give up on? Who are you ready to give up on? Is God inviting a little more patience and hope and care? Is it possible that what you are seeing as dead is perhaps just a little bit dormant, and with time and care, growth will resume? Today, I want to have the faith of a gardener who knows that God can bring anything back from the brink of death. I mean, if even death isn't the ultimate barrier to God, then how much more hopeful should we be about the places in ourselves and our world that have even the slightest bit of life in them? We of little faith.... 

Lord, give me patience and faith that you can bring growth and goodness from things that I'm ready to give up on.

Peace,
Keith