I am Apollos

What then is Apollos? And what is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, even as the Lord gave opportunity to each one. I planted, Apollos watered, but God was causing the growth. So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but God who causes the growth. Now he who plants and he who waters are one; but each will receive his own reward according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.
1 Corinthians 3:5-9, NASB

It's summer time in Southern California, a summer that I desperately needed.  In past years summer has meant a lot less to me.  For years I worked five days a week in an air conditioned building.  If it were 100 degrees outside, I was still leaving the house with a sweater.  I might get the chance to step outside for lunch and feel the warmth of the sun, but that sun was gone again as soon as my break was over. Since I stopped working full time, I have come to appreciate the seasons, mostly because I experience them now.

My first cucumber in early growth.

My newest joy is my garden.  Yes, I have had things growing my back yard (and front yard, actually) since we bought our home eight years ago.  I have written before about my benefiting from another's work.  When my yard got a major trim this month, I was sad at how much they cut off my fruit trees.  Then I reminded myself that I waste a lot of the fruit that is produced, and everything will grow back.  In fact, it will grow back stronger for the trimming that occurred.

Right now the shining gem of my garden is my single cucumber plant that I could easily take too much credit for.  It was my mother in law who showed up at my door with seeds and a trellis for the vines to creep up.  It was my son, under my mother in law's guidance, who turned the dirt.  It is me, though, who faithfully waters the plant.  Everyday.  Sometimes, twice a day.  As Paul wrote, it was God who made it grow.  There is nothing I could have done to make that plant grow.

Paul recognized his place in the hierarchy believers.  He was someone who said yes to God, one of many someones.  I love my cucumber plant, and I am looking forward to the fruit it produces. However, the plant would have grown for anyone who did the work that my family did.  The believers in Corinth did not understand this truth.

The modern church sometimes gets hung up on things that don't matter.  There are groups who believe they have exclusive access to God because of the day they worship, the age at which they baptize, who they accept in their priesthood, or the way they talk to God.  This is what Paul identifies as "jealousy and strife" in verse 3.

I am Apollos.  I can only take credit for watering my garden.  It would not have mattered if I used a bucket or a hose.  One may be appropriate for one part of my garden and the other more appropriate for another part of my garden.  Where seed is being sown, cultivated, and watered, God will do the rest.

Firewood

"Do you want to save these for firewood?" my mother asked as she held up some of the larger branches she had cut from a tree in my backyard. My husband and I had recently closed escrow on our first home, and we were working to clear the overgrown backyard.

I stood amazed at the fact that this was my tree. It was here for my pleasure and purposes.  However, I wondered how a tree could be so big and so dead. I knew the tree had grown large before it died, but, seeing how brittle the tree was, I could not imagine a time when the barren branches were lush. She stood there, waiting for my decision. Did I want the clippings for firewood?

No, I didn't want them; the branches served no purpose for me.

That day we trimmed as much of the dead tree as we could, but we were limited by our tools.  A few years later, the tree would uproot in a rainstorm and fall over. Fortunately, it didn't cause any damage, but it served as a good reminder to the difference between a fruitful tree and a withered one.

A fruitful tree is a benefit to those around it, but a withered tree is a danger to those around it.

A fruitful tree gives life to new growth, but a withered tree is a waste of the efforts put into it.

A fruitful tree changes with the seasons, but a withered tree is stuck in its unhealthy state.

Jesus knew something about branches too. He told His disciples “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned" (John 15:5-6).

Let it be a warning to all of us. The only source of life is to remain connected to Christ.

Water Words

Why is it so hard to say good things? When I open my mouth there seems to be an endless supply of complaining, criticism, and discouragement. I can think of so many times when I haven't thought about what I was about to say, so it came out in a way I later regretted.

Have you ever had your hot water run out on you? Maybe your water heater was broken, and you didn't realized it before you got in the shower. I've been there; it's not fun. Or maybe you were the last person taking a shower one morning, and there wasn't enough hot water. I've been there too; it's equally as frustrating. In both situations, my instinct was to turn the cold water knob a little less and, if that didn't work, turn the hot water knob a little more.

Maybe the problem with my words is that I'm turning the wrong knob. The solution to my negativity is not to be less negative. The solution is to fill my mouth with the things worthy of being spoken.

The book of James deals with such practical, real-life topics that it is hard to believe it was written two millennia ago. James compares our words not to hot and cold water, but to fresh and salty (and you thought salty was new slang). He writes, "With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water" (James 3:9-12, NIV).

James would tell me to stop trying to turn down the cold water of "cursing" and start turning up the hot water of "praise."

Or he might tell me to stop trying to pick olives off a fig tree. The fig tree in my back yard has just started leafing. In the last two weeks it has gone from barren to a healthy growth of leaves, some already as wide as three inches. It's much too early for figs, but in another month or so, as summer gets closer, I'll become impatient and start checking the progress of the figs more often than is needed. Some years are lean and some years are plentiful, but in all the years this tree has been in my back yard I've never once found an olive growing on it.

Jesus himself also compared our words to fruit. In Luke 6:43-45 He tells the crowd, “No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers. A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of."

According to Jesus, my mouth speaks negativity because my heart is filled with it. Ouch.

Like my fig tree, I believe in personal leafing. What seems barren can produce fruit. To say it another way, when properly connected, God can provide endless streams of hot water to our soul by warming the cold reserves in the tank of our heart.

Peace & The Garden

Sunday mornings are not necessarily a peaceful time in my house.  When I started watching The Walking Dead with my husband a few years ago, there was a tender moment between the main character, Rick, and his son Carl.  In talking about their pre-apocalypse life, Rick remembers that his wife Lori, Carl's mom, always made pancakes on Sunday mornings.  These pancakes were notoriously awful, but she continued to make them because that was the kind of family she wanted to be.  The scene is endearing, but I remember thinking "Who has time to make pancakes on Sunday morning?"

I certainly don't.  On Sundays I find myself praying the coffee is strong and hot.  I attempt to gulp it down before I walk out the door so I can brush my teeth as to not offend anyone at church with coffee breath.  Almost every week either my oldest son or I are checking if we have the appropriate laptop, his for announcements and music slides or mine to teach children's church.  There is usually an odd item or two that needs to be taken to church.  Today it is supplies for the Easter, clean nursery sheets, and materials for children's church.  Then you add in all the chaos of "did you eat?" and "did you shower?" and "are you wearing that?" and Sundays take on a life of their own.

I sat down this morning at my dining room table with coffee in a Superman mug - my Batman mug is dirty - and looked outside at my garden.  I use the word "garden" loosely.  There are definitely things growing in my backyard, but they don't have the intentionality or, if I'm painfully honest, success that a garden should have.  And yet there is something about calling it a garden that I enjoy.  It tells the story of what I want my backyard to be.  I want it to be a place where we grow food, have more grass than weeds, certainly no weeds that reach up to my knees, and no pile of dead greenery that I cut a week ago.  No cracked concrete.  No gopher holes, though these have been entertaining for my husband and sons and dog.

This morning I sat down at my dining room table and saw past all that.  I saw what could be there: thick grass, neat edges, persimmons by the bunch, a clean patio with a table we could gather around, and maybe even a barbeque and some string lights.

I hope that when God looks at me He sees a garden.  I hope he sees past my weeds and shortcomings, and instead sees my potential.  I hope He sees the gallons of sweet lemonade I'm capable of supplying instead of the bitter fruit that is ripe for picking.

Firstfruits

"Honor the Lord with your wealth, with the firstfruits of all your crops; then your barns will be filled to overflowing, and your vats will brim over with new wine." Proverbs 3:9-10

One of the most pleasant surprises when we bought our home was the selection of fruit trees that now belonged to us - lemons, bananas, persimmons, and figs! The fig tree, located just outside my bedroom window, has taught me more about faith than seemed possible

The figs, oh, the figs! They are so delicious. I never knew what a fresh fig tasted like until I tasted these. And to think that at one time in my life my only connection to figs was the Fig Newton.

Each summer when fig season rolls around I watch eagerly, waiting to pick the first of the season. As summer progesses I look out my window each day waiting to see that the figs are ready to be picked. When they are finally ready, I head outside and pick the first few... for my friend Barbara.

Yes, the first fruits of my fig tree always go to Barb! Does she pay my mortgage or tend to my garden? No. But I know what joy they give her. And knowing they will please her makes it so easy to give them away. As much as enjoy eating my figs, giving them to her tasted even more delicious.

Lord, help me to offer the first fruits of my life to You with the same willingness and excitedness as I give my figs to my friend. Let me honor you with my heart and actions.