God Glimpses #53 ~ You WILL
“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.” John 15:5 (NIV)
I was looking out my back window at my pathetic espallied fruit trees today and once again contemplating whether I should give up and cut them down and use the upright poles between them to support a grape vine. (I should have looked up apple tree diseases before purchasing apple trees prone to Apple Cedar Rust Disease for a house on Cedar Road.)
The thought of grape vines always brings this verse to mind. Then my devotion today had the same verse. For some reason the word “WILL” jumped out for the first time in a long time. Almost every passage in the Bible is conditional in one way or another and this verse is blatant. IF you do this, this will happen. “If you remain in me, and I in you . . .”
I’m in a season of feeling pretty useless, what with my body being in rebellion mode. The more my body rebels, the less I accomplish, the more I’m forced to analyse the importance of my activities, physical, mental and spiritual.
I’m not happy about my rebellious body, but I’m grateful. I want to be fruitful. I don’t have what it takes physically, but guess what? That isn’t a condition! All I have to do is stick even closer to my maker, and draw the strength to produce fruit from him.
Not a bad trade off for a younger body and distracted lifestyle.
This picture and the title may be all you need for this God-Glimpse.
Our very best efforts to repair ourselves turn out like this–a bad idea made worse by lack of experience, resources and patience.
Rot started the problem. A section of the rafter had to go before the fungus spread to the rest of the roof. But it wasn’t enough to remove just a section of the board, the entire rafter should have been replaced with new.
It’s not enough to get rid of sin, bad habits or even weaknesses; they must be replaced, or the roof of our good intentions will soon leak and eventually cave in.
Only The Master Carpenter has the experience, resources and patience to repair the rot of our lives. Only His Word is strong enough to shore up the roof over our heads.
Replace the old rafters of your life with new Living Words from the Father of Life.
Purple crocuses in a sea of brown. Royalty amongst peasants. The world around them long dead, while they wear king’s colors.
Boldly pressing skyward, blessing us with promise.
Hope is possible!
Did you put on your purple robe today?
Yesterday’s post dealt with hope deferred. When I took this photo, the sky was a beautiful blue, just begging me to look up.
Sycamore seeds. Fascinating textured globes of promise. In my minds eye they are broken all over the driveway, as they will be soon. They’re smashed from the impact of falling, squashed by tires, blown into fluff bits, and floating in the wind in tiny segments. They’re everywhere! They’re landing in my flower beds, in the lawn, heading for the soccer field across the street . . . if they make it past the hedge of trees.
“Just DO it” reverberates from yesterday.
“In the morning sow your seed, and at evening do not let your hand rest, because you don’t know which will succeed, whether one or the other, or if both of them will be equally good.” Holman Christian Standard Bible (©2009)
George Washington’s chair used during the signing of the Declaration of Independence has a carving on the back of a sun peaking over the horizon. A sign of hope, of a chance to make everything new.
Photo is mine. For a close-up of the original chair and the full story, click here.
Yellow crocuses springing out of mud. Hope in tiny promise packages. Whenever I picture the scene of Christ on the cross, I envision Him gazing at the ground through swollen and bloody eyelids at a single crocus coming up through the mud at His mother’s feet. Knowing the anguish of separation from his family, his disciples, and of His Father God, He looks to the joy of new life, new hope, and promises fulfilled.
Photo taken today in my front yard. Hope!
Polka Dot Seed Balls bouncing dark against a pale indigo sky, making promises of spring.