The other weekend, I discovered that while I had been out of town, my tomato vines had gotten completely out of control. Instead of neat and tidy plants producing lots of delicious fruit, they had turned into raging green monsters that were producing more and more out-of-control raging green vines.
I picked up my pruning shears and went to town. Before I was done, I had hauled away two large garbage cans full of unfruitful (or barely fruitful) vines. I reflected on a couple of things.
First, I realized that by not pruning the tomatoes gently and regularly, now I had to prune them fairly harshly, and the result showed: instead of a well-balanced fruitful plant, when I was done, I had plants with great gaps in their branches, but at least they had the potential for growing some fruit now.
Second, I remembered our Lord's promise: “Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” John 15:2. The promise of his care for me (more consistent than my care for my tomatoes, I assume) in order that I might bear fruit.
I picked up my pruning shears (and a stepladder this time) and went to work. And I thought about the lessons of pruning the tomatoes, and realized that those lessons applied here, too.
But I learned another lesson with the grapes. Unlike with the tomatoes, I really didn't know what I was doing with pruning the grapes. This was beyond my training, beyond my experience, and I knew it. Furthermore, I realized that while I was doing the best I knew how to do, the reality was that the pruning was harsh and probably excessive. And I knew it was my fault, but the grapevine paid the price for my ignorance.
It was at that point that I heard Father whisper, “You’ve just described a very large number of pastors, Son.” I can tell you I paused to think about that one for a good while.
And as I considered it, I realized that pastors are a lot like gardeners: their values are for the nurture and development of the garden entrusted to them. But occasionally, someone in their care gets excited and starts growing out of control. In my own history, I remember a staid little Presbyterian congregation with a dozen individuals stepping out of the pastor’s influence to participate in the Jesus People Movement.
We discovered intimate relationship with Jesus; we discovered the Holy Spirit; we discovered that the Bible really is interesting and practical. We got terribly excited.
And the pastors didn’t know what to do with this revival. This was beyond their training, beyond their experience, and they knew it. And as a result, their responses to our untidy, out-of-control enthusiasm was harsh and probably excessive.
And Father pointed out to me that they actually realized their limitations, they regretted the damage they were doing, but they had to do something! We really were turning into out-of-control, raging monsters (the fact that we were teenagers didn’t help matters any).
But suddenly I was more sympathetic for those pastors, and for pastors today that are dealing with congregants who get excited and start growing much faster, maybe even irresponsibly.
Some of them are panicking, dealing with situations beyond the training of their seminary or Bible school. They feel (whether rightly or wrongly) that they need to bring that raging, out-of-control enthusiasm under control, and they respond more harshly, more damagingly than they would if they had more experience (or better training).
Some of the church leaders you and I have encountered (and it’s not all pastors, is it?) have been threatened by our excitement, our enthusiasm, our vigorous change. That doesn’t mean we quit growing, of course. And it doesn't mean we get angry, take our ball and go away, either.
Some of these leaders will never understand. Some will, like the leaders of Jesus' time, declare, “If we let Him alone like this, everyone will believe in Him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and nation.” [John 11:48] Some will wish they could throw it all away and join us.
But a whole lot of leaders will be open to learning more, even if we scare them, even if it’s difficult. I’m encouraged to work on building bridges, so the whole Body can grow.
I hold a belief that I don't think I've heard others talk about before. So of course I need to talk about it.
This is one of those things that I *think* I believe. I observe that I live my life as if it's true.
Jesus' younger brother, James said this: “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” [James 1:17]
So I've been thinking about that verse for a few years (like you do).
+ *EVERY* good and perfect gift is from Father. If it's a good gift, then Father is behind it. If my Mama gave me a cookie, then I'm (very) careful to thank her for it, but I still figure that God was behind it, because that's who He is. So I give thanks to Him as well.
+ Every gift that comes from Father is good and perfect. This does Not assume that everything that comes into my life comes from God. If it's bringing stealing, killing and/or destruction, then it's from somebody else. What my Father gives is always good and perfect.
+ “Heavenly lights.” I still don’t know what to do with that, so I try not to let it distract me from what God IS saying to me in this. (Don’t get sidetracked on this one, please.)
+ God does not change like shifting shadows. Someone else has said that he’s the same yesterday, today & forever. That works for me.
One of my personal goals is to increase my thankfulness. This integrates with that pretty nicely. Any good thing comes to me, I give thanks to my Father, regardless of who handed it to me.
I recently stumbled over yet another place where Jesus sets up the literalists for failure. It seems he did that a number of times.
One time was in John 2. He had just made a whip out of cords (a slow and tedious process, by the way) and cleaned out the temple of the religious merchants who were taking advantage of the worshipers.
"The Jews" (the religious authority figures) were demanding to know his authority for such a disruptive action; they asked for a sign to demonstrate that authority.
"Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days," he replied [John 2:19]
That's kind of a pretty black-and-white statement, isn't it. There's nothing in the context to give away that this needed to be interpreted metaphorically, though Scripture tells us that detail [2:21].
Now let's be honest, this particular group of people were not experiencing a teachable moment. Rather, this was one of those times that they were not particularly disposed to hearing the truth from him. These people were apparently so committed to their authority (and to their profits) that they were unwilling to hear the truth. So he hides it in metaphor, but he doesn't tell the unteachable ones that he's hiding truth from them.
In all fairness, he spent quite a lot of energy (v35 - 51) trying to communicate actual truth with them. It seems to always happen: when their source of free food made it clear that there will not be any free food today, they turned on him (v51), and so he does it again: he speaks truth in metaphor, but doesn't tell them that it's a metaphor. (If you pay attention, you can maybe see this happening in our Federal government these days, too.)
"Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you." [John 6:53, and repeatedly through v58].
From the hindsight of the New Covenant and the Last Supper [See Luke 22], we know that he's talking about eating the bread and drinking the cup of the New Covenant; people who do not join with Him in the New Covenant don't have life in them. But they thought he was talking about literal cannibalism, and they had every reason to think that.
But being honest again, this group of people had resisted Jesus' best attempts at making this a teachable moment. These folks had committed themselves inflexibly to one view of Jesus. So again, he hides the truth in metaphor, but he doesn't tell the unteachable ones that he's hiding it from them.
And this is the point where that gets more than usually uncomfortable for me. I've been a rather un-gracious proponent of Biblical Literalism in various points in my history: Interpret it all literally unless it says not to. In fairness, I was reacting to a movement that had explained away all of the supernatural events in the Bible by calling them metaphors for spiritual reality. I didn't like that. (But over-reacting is seldom a successful response.)
And then I realized that Jesus is still in the business of hiding truth in plain sight. From time to time, he still hides the truth in metaphorical (or "apocalyptic" or even "prophetic") language. And he still doesn't tell us that he's doing that.
There are still believers for whom truth is hidden. There are some people who are so committed to their power, their position and their paycheck that despite their words, they don't really want the truth; it might threaten all that. And there are some believers who are so convinced that their view is the right view, so they shut down any truth that challenges that.
Some of these are Christian leaders, and I'm guessing that we could all point to some (but let's not, OK?). And scads of them write books and promote their views on social media, and I'm pretty sure we've all run into some of them.
But the bigger lesson is not for "them." It's for "me" and for "us." Not a one of us is immune from these truth-blinding errors. I guess we need to read the Bible for ourselves and let both Holy Spirit and our brothers & sisters help us see the truth that Jesus has hidden where we least expect it.
