John 15:1-2

John 15:1-2

There he was again. With his straw hat and his worn-out brown loafers. His plain grey shirt and faded blue jeans soaking up the early morning rays. Every morning, at the crack of dawn, there he was. He opened the squeaky screen door and scratched his feet against the beat out bricks. The weary bricks flooded with moss in each crevasse, growing array as the earth swept over them. The darts of deep orange sunlight streaked across the dying yard and up against the house. The red ball barely escaping the horizon. The rays ran down the grass and up the base of the Tree; the only feature of the man’s dying yard. A large oak that looked to have less life ahead of it than behind it, although only an illusion.  The bark and the roots jetting out were illuminated by the rising sun. The slashes from where the kids would attack and pull the bark created dark shadows.

The door shut; the man weighted on the brick and walked over to the shed. An old brick shed with vines growing up the side, it was connected to the house by a stepping stone path. The man took a deep breath of the crisp cool morning air as he turned his face to the sun. His old dark skin shown alight to reveal himself to the world. He gazed at the glowing ball and smiled. Smiled his crooked teeth to no one but the light blinding back at him. The sun continued to rise as he approached the shed. He bent his crooked back down to grab the handle to the old wooden garage-style door. He heaved it up with his old hands and the silence of the dawn came to life as the door shattered along its tracks. He disappeared into the darkness of the shed and returned a minute later with an old wooden ladder in one hand and his tool in the other—the same old tree lopper he pulled from the shed every day.

He crunched across the dead grass over to the Tree. He set up his ladder and climbed to begin pruning the side of the Tree facing the sun. This was his morning process. As the sun rose and the world began to spin, he worked on the Tree through the hours. Cutting out of place branches, and clearing the way for the Tree to grow. Nobody really understood why he did this or what he was doing, but every morning he was sure to be out working on the Tree. He worked endlessly pruning and fixing every little part of the Tree, moving his ladder as he went. Inside to out, bottom to top. At the top of his ladder, he could not reach near the top of the large Tree, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He worked on what the Tree would allow him and that seemed to be enough.

Nobody understood what this man was doing, but everyone was in awe of his practices. The Tree not only stood out as the only thriving thing in his dead yard, it stood out in the entire town. It was the highest point around and could be seen towering over the endless rows of houses from almost anywhere.

Not only was the Tree tall, it was the beauty of the town as well. Every spring it would burst into season with bright green colors. A green brighter than that of any other tree. A growth that flooded the branches more fervently than any other tree. A sense of powerfulness and beauty greater than any other tree. Everyone knew about the wonderful Tree and the old man that grew it. Through the days and nights, winters and summers, storms and peace, the Tree stood. The Tree stood mightier than any other tree. Nothing could harm the growing oak while it was in the man’s care.

I marveled at the man as continued his work on the Tree. Though the rest of the yard strew dead, the Tree which the man cared for lived. He was one with the Tree and lived within it. A special bond. The man cared for the Tree and the Tree bore great fruit. The Tree could not live without the man. It could not thrive and tower the town without the pruning the man gave. That is what amazed me so much as I watched him work. His endeavor seemed useless; no one could find the secret that this man seemed to give to his Tree. The Tree grew on in the man’s harmony and the man was well-pleased.

The siren rang throughout the town signaling noon. The man returned the ladder and his tool to the shed and crossed the stone path once again. The sun, now blazing above the world, shown bright on the yard and the roof of the house. The man trotted across the dirty bricks and turned around as he reached the screen door. The sun glared off beads of sweat on his face as he looked on to the tree. He admired his work then turned back, pulling open the door and returning to his house. The sun lit the Tree and the man was known to the world through its fruit.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be more fruitful.” John 15:1-2