Subverting the Growth Cycle

Several years ago I decided in order to fully understand the ties Scripture makes between vineyards and the spiritual life I needed to plant some vines.  I went out and bought two varieties of grapes, wine barrels to plant them in, soil, trellises, and because my wife and I had just watched Letters to Juliet, marble stones to lay around the base to absorb the heat of the sun.

Understanding a movie was probably not the best place to receive an education on how to grow and care for vines, I also began doing research on the internet.  I found sites which gave you all the information you would need to understand the soil, watering, and pruning necessary to produce a bumper crop.  I even took a field trip to a winery in Temecula which had a display of various ways of training grape vines.  In a very short time I had the best education on how to grow grape vines which an hour on the internet and a field trip to a winery could provide. 

I understood growing my vines would take plenty of time, patience, and planning.  I knew the first couples of years were dedicated to establishing the vines and it would not be until the third year that I would fruit.  I was ready for the process, after all this is what the project was about, engaging in the cultivations of these vines so I could have a hands on experience of this spiritual metaphor.

The first season went great.  My vines were planted and established and I began training them to mimic what I had seen in photos and at the vineyard.  In my second season I had to learn to deal with overly vigorous vines, but this did not discourage me because I thought it meant the soil must be good.  In my third year I actually had some fruit on the vines and though it was not much I celebrated by eating it.

Then the fourth year happened.  The vines were growing vigorously early in the season.  I had many grape clusters forming.  Things looked promising for a bumper crop.  Then I forgot to water the vines for a week, OK maybe it was three.  The result was in the middle of the season the leaves began to wither and fall off.  Soon my luscious vines were nearly bare.  Rather than a bumper crop, I was wondering if they were going to survive.  It got so bad I finally decided to write off the season and simply prune the vines back.

Normally cutting your vines back is something you do in winter.  I was taking this drastic step in August.  I thought the vines would simply lay dormant until the next growing season.  Apparently my hour of education left me a little wanting in the knowledge of what happens when you prune your vines out of season.  Rather than sending the plant into a dormant state, it triggered the growing cycle all over again.  In a matter of weeks I had new growth on the vine and leaves began to appear and small clusters of grapes began to form.  Living in the temperate climate of Southern California has its advantages, or so I thought.

The vine went through its cycle, it even produced some fruit, albeit at the wrong time of the year.  The grapes it formed were not very healthy looking and did not taste very good.  What I thought was a blessing, a way of reducing the time in which the vine would be unproductive, actually caused the vine to produce fruit which was bad. 

Scripture says any tree (or vine for that matter) which does not bare good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.  I was not quite ready to have my vine meet this fate, especially because I was the one who had failed to water it and pruned it out of season.   When January rolled around I pruned it back aggressively and waited to see what would happen.  Like clockwork my vines returned to their normal growth cycle.  I watched as they began putting out new branches, growing beautiful green leave, and producing healthy clusters of grapes. 

Things were not perfect, the vines experienced another dry spell when I neglected to water the vines for a week or two, and leaves began to fall.  This time rather than taking the drastic action of cutting the vines back, I let them be.  I watered them, cared for them best I could, and I waited.

Amazingly they recovered, and produced fruit. I would not call it a bumper crop.  I think the vines were still recovering from the previous season, but the fruit looked much healthier than last year’s crop.  Just before harvest time a rogue gang of sparrows came and robbed me of the fruit of my vines, but I was fine with it.  After all, I think part of the purpose of bearing fruit is to benefit others.

I have been struck by how my experience with these vines often mirrors our response in our spiritual lives to times when we interpret what we experiencing as a loss or failure to thrive.  Our reaction is to cut back the vines, rather than trusting God has built a resiliency in them which will bring life.  If fact, what we perceive as dying, may actually be a transitional phase to a much more fruitful season, but because all we see is the withering of the leaves in the moment, we over react and start hacking away. The result is often the inability to produce good fruit, at least for a season or two, until we settle back into the natural rhythms of growth. 

Peter comes to mind as someone who was looking around at the situation in which he found himself and determining the leaves had begun to wither.  His reaction was to take action.  At the very moment Jesus was exercising trust in the Father and giving Himself completely to His will, Peter pulls out a sword and begins hacking away.  It probably felt good, being a man of action, thinking somehow he was going to pull it all back from the brink of death.  But it was not the case, for good fruit to be produced events had to be allowed to moved through this season.  What seemed like a withering was actually an ushering in of life.

I wonder sometimes what would happen if we did not react by trying to cut away what appears to us to be the dying branches, and trusted that God was up to something in the withering.  After all, I am sure the wilting of a few leaves on my vine was a response of the vine to the stress which had been placed upon in order to preserve the fruit it was producing, and allow the plant to survive.   I did not allow this natural response to preserve life. Instead, I sent the vine into shock and put it into an unnatural cycle of growth that produced bad fruit.  The only thing which would restore the natural cycle of life and growth was a severe pruning.

How many severe prunings do we have to experience before we learn to trust God is up to something, even in the times when it appears the leaves are drooping?  When will we develop the capacity to lay down our loppers and allow the vine to weather the season of stress so that good fruit might be produced?  I have a sneaky suspicion from watching my vines, until we do so, the fruit we so desire to see will be elusive and the need for a harsh pruning will remain.

I also know, from my experience of tending vines, when we resist the temptation to circumvent the natural growth process, when we learn to yield, wait and trust, good fruit will be produced.