Last year New York Times editorialist Nicholas Kristof wrote a column about evangelical Christians.[1] The column confessed that some evangelical Christians act in ways that are immoral and hypocritical. But he went on to write this:
…in reporting on poverty, disease and oppression, I’ve seen so many others. Evangelicals are disproportionately likely to donate 10 percent of their incomes to charities, mostly church-related. More important, go to the front lines, at home or abroad, in the battles against hunger, malaria, prison rape, obstetric fistula, human trafficking or genocide, and some of the bravest people you meet are evangelical Christians (or conservative Catholics, similar in many ways) who truly live their faith. I’m not particularly religious myself, but I stand in awe of those I’ve seen risking their lives in this way—and it sickens me to see that faith mocked at New York cocktail parties.
Kristof stands in awe of Christians who truly live their faith. The biblical word for this kind of world-changing life is “fruitful.” When the Bible describes people doing what Kristof sees Christians doing, it uses the word “fruitful.” To donate for the needy, to battle against hunger, and to stand against genocide is to live a fruitful life. And that kind of fruitful life by Christians catches Kristof’s attention. He applauds these fruitful lives.
This type of life is one that God applauds. God prizes fruitful lives. God loves it when his people donate to charities, battle human trafficking, and truly live their faith.
In fact, God dreams about this fruit. In the book of Isaiah, God puts it this way: In days to come Jacob shall take root, Israel shall blossom and put forth shoots and fill the whole world with fruit (Is. 27:6 ESV). There are several other passages like this in Isaiah. The words “Jacob” and “Israel” are used here to refer to the people of God. Here God pictures his people as a vine that takes root, then blossoms and then fills the whole world with fruit. And in the context of Scripture fruit is consists of things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. God prizes this fruit. He loves this fruit. He wants his people to fill the whole world with this fruit.
But, as the New York Times piece confesses, we—the people of God—don’t always bear this fruit. Sometimes we forget the priority of fruitful living. We don’t value fruitful living as much as God does.
Richard Stearns puts it this way:[2] “The predicament of the American church is that we live in a kind of Magic Kingdom. Like going to Disneyland, you buy your ticket, and once you are inside the gates, everything you experience is controlled. The rides, the food, the shows are all there to entertain and amuse you. All you have to do is be there and observe. Yet just beyond the walls of Disneyland is Anaheim and the rest of Los Angeles, including the streets of Compton. This is the real world with real problems: pollution and congestion, drugs and violence, islands of upscale neighborhoods surrounded by slums. Inside the Magic Kingdom, the outside world is almost inconceivable…But our job is…to tear down the walls and transform the world outside.” It’s easy for Christians to gather and forget about the rest of the world, the real world outside these walls. But God’s dream is that his people would be like a vine that grows throughout the world and bears fruit that transforms that world. Sometimes we get so comfortable in our Disneyland that we forget the priority of fruitful living out there.
But even when we do prioritize God’s vine-vision, we often find that it’s a hard vision to fulfill. It can be overwhelming to walk into that broken world outside these walls and attempt to live the kind of fruitful life that will make a difference.
I recently came across a book about Dr. Paul Farmer. Farmer was moved deeply by the plight of people around the earth who did not have access to adequate medical care. He dedicated himself to bringing modern medicine to remote places and poor people. The book about his life is called “Mountains Beyond Mountains.[3] The title comes from a Hatian proverb. Farmer spent years in Haiti establishing a medical clinic for the poor. The proverb states this: “Beyond mountains there are mountains.” It is a realistic and somber portrait of the world outside these walls. You climb one mountain, and there’s another one waiting. It describes the massive need Farmer was trying to fill as he travelled to Haiti, Peru, Cuba and Russia. You help one poor person get better, there’s a line of others waiting. You make a dent in one country or with one tribe, there are dozens more. It can be overwhelming. There seems to be mountain after mountain of need in the world. And we may feel completely incapable of bearing the kind of fruit that can topple those mountains.
Jesus’ disciples may have felt similarly. In Jn. 14:12, Jesus challenges his disciples to go and bear even greater fruit in the world than he did. He urges them to scatter and live even more impactful lives than he did. Then he drops a bomb on them—he’s about to leave. In John 13-17 Jesus is saying goodbye. He tells them again and again that he’s about to be killed on a cross, raised from the dead, and lifted to the Father’s right hand. Jesus is about to exit. They will be the ones left with the mess of the world. They will be the ones facing mountain after mountain of need. We heard last Sunday how this news has troubled their hearts (Jn. 14:1). They may have felt completely incapable of bearing the kind of fruit that could make a difference in the world.
It’s in this context that Jesus makes a statement: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. 2 Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. 3Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. (John 15:1-5 ESV).
Most scholars believe that Jesus is using the vineyard image from Isaiah. When Jesus says “I am the true vine” he’s saying “I am the vine God’s always dreamed about.” Though God talked about his dream of a fruitful vine in Isaiah, his people in the Old Testament never fulfilled that dream. They failed to carry out God’s vision. Rather than bringing the fruit of love and joy and righteousness and justice into the world, at times they brought just the opposite. In light of that failure, and in light of what the disciples must surely be feeling about their own ability to bear fruit, Jesus says simply, “I am the true vine.” Jesus is that vine capable of bearing the kind of fruit that can transform the world.
Yet Jesus is not going to bear that fruit alone. He tells his followers: “I am the vine, you are the branches.” Those of us who follow Jesus are the branches. That means we can bear fruit through partnership with Jesus. Jesus promises in this text that he can bear his fruit through us. He promises in vs. 5 that we branches can bear “much fruit.”
Jesus is essentially telling us this: He maximizes our ability to bear fruit. One of the primary things Jesus does is to maximize our ability to bear fruit. Jesus sees himself as a vine. He sees you as a branch. And Jesus is able to take his own fruitfulness and grant it to you so that you become as fruitful in the world as he was. This is God’s plan for taking is his vineyard dream and turning it into reality. Through Jesus, he maximizes your potential to bear fruit.
But how does this work? How does Jesus’ fruitfulness become ours? How does Jesus pass on the ability to live a world-changing life?
Listen to Jesus’ explanation: “4 Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you…9 As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love.10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love…16 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. 17 These things I command you, so that you will love one another (John 15:4-7, 9-10, 16-17 ESV). Jesus says that the key to fruitfulness is found in one concept: “abide.” It’s only by abiding in Jesus that we bear the fruit of Jesus. Eugene Peterson, in The Message, translates this concept this way: “Make your home in me.” When Jesus says “abide in me” he’s saying “make your home in me.” It’s only when we make a home in Jesus that we can bear the fruit of Jesus.
What does it mean to abide in Jesus? What does it mean to make our home in Jesus? We might think of this in terms of some different dwelling places. Let’s consider three dwelling places. Let’s imagine a hotel room, a dorm room, and a house. Raise your hand if you’ve ever stayed in a hotel room. How many of you even take the time to unpack your suitcase and put your clothes in the dressers? For most of us, the hotel room is temporary. We’re in and we’re out. We just need a bed to sleep on and a place to store our stuff. The priority is what’s outside the hotel room. The amusement park. The golf course. The mall. The state park. The hotel room is just a base from which we launch out into what really interests us. And sometimes that’s how some of us treat Jesus. He’s a temporary place we go to when we need some rest or some recuperation. But what truly interests us is outside of Jesus. He’s just a rest stop. He’s not someplace we truly abide.
Let’s consider a dorm room. How many of you lived in a dorm room or an apartment when you were in college? I lived in the same dorm room for three years while I was a student at New Mexico State University. Yet despite the fact that I was there for three years, I never really settled in to my dorm room. It was mostly a place where I could catch a nap, change my clothes, and do a little work. I did a large part of my homework elsewhere because the dorms were so loud. I spent the weekends at my mom’s house eating her food and letting her do my laundry. And some of us treat Jesus that way. He’s much more just a hotel room. But, when it comes down to it, we’re never really at home in him. We spend significant time in him and with him. But ultimately, there’s something temporary and superficial about our walk with him. He’s not someplace we truly abide.
But let’s consider a home. Not just any home. A well-lived-in home. I think of the home where my great grandmother Gertie lived. She lived there with her twin sister Vertie. Gertie and Vertie. They lived in a farmhouse in Missouri. In the kitchen was a wood-fueled stove they used for decades. The linoleum floor nearly had grooves in the paths where they had walked much of their lives. The living room had a sofa so worn and soft you could fall asleep in it in a minute. There were pictures of parents and children and grandchildren and great grandchildren on the walls. I remember watching Gertie sit in an old rocking chair and read from the Bible she’d owned for many years. The cover was cracked from use and time. Every nook and cranny of that house was filled with memories. They had lived every square inch of that house, and lived it for decades. When Vertie died and it came time for Gertie to leave the house, it was gut-wrenching. In fact, she didn’t live long after she left the house. Her life was in that house. She had made a home in that house and it had made a home in her.
Jesus is saying that we need to treat him like that. Not like a hotel room. Not like a dorm room. But like a place where we truly are home. It’s only when we make a home in Jesus that we can bear the fruit of Jesus. When we dwell in Jesus, abide in Jesus, make our home in Jesus, then he’s able to take his own supernatural fruit-bearing ability and transfer it to us. He shapes us and makes us into fruitful people who topple mountain after mountain.
What does that look like? How does that happen? How do we make our home in Jesus? How do we abide in Jesus and thus gain his fruit-bearing ability? Jesus gives some brief clues here.
Jesus seems to say that abiding in him, making our home in him means abiding with his people, in his principles, on his path, and in his prayer.
- Jesus talks here about the importance of loving other Christians, of being in intimate community with his followers. His people. Jesus talks about letting his word abide in us. His principles. Jesus speaks of our need to obey him. His path. And Jesus urges us to pray for what we need to bear fruit. His prayer.
- Abiding in Jesus includes fellowship and friendship and support among his people. It includes learning and reflecting upon and meditating upon his word, his principles. It includes walking his way, practicing his preaching, obeying his word. His path. And it includes humble dependence upon God for what we need to bear fruit. His prayer.
- We abide in Jesus as we participate in a loving community, pursuing spiritual paths together, sharpening each other, holding each other accountable, and encouraging each other. His people. We abide in Jesus as we constantly read his word, consume his word, meditate on his word, study his word, and listen to his word. His principles. We abide in Jesus as we apply his teaching to our lives, as we practice what he preaches, as we let his teaching impact our relationships, our work, our school, and our families. His principles. And we abide in Jesus as we hit our knees, as we devote ourselves to prayer, as we passionately pursue a life of prayer. His prayer.
The book Welcoming Justice was co-authored by two men. One was Charles Marsh, a younger white professor. The other was John Perkins, an older black Christian leader.[4] On the day they met, Marsh, the white man, sheepishly confessed that his grandmother was an ardent racist who thought that Martin Luther King. Jr. was a dangerous troublemaker and that most blacks were better off under slavery. Perkins’ response puzzled Marsh. “What does she grow in her garden?” he asked. “What do you mean?” Marsh replied. Perkins said, “What does she grow? Cucumbers, squash, mint, tomatoes? I have the sweetest tomatoes in my garden this summer. You can eat them like apples. Your grandmother like tomato sandwiches? I bet she does. Let me ask you another question: does she like blueberries? I love blueberries.” And in great detail he described all the ways he loved to eat blueberries: freshly picked, over ice cream, in blueberry pie. He said, “I always keep blueberries in my refrigerator. When we get to the house, I’m gonna give you a bag of blueberries, and I want you to take them to your grandmother and tell her they’re a gift from me.” Perkins, the black man, gave Marsh, the white man, a bag of blueberries to deliver to the racist grandmother as a gift. After Perkins gave Marsh the bag of blueberries, Marsh called them a “gift that marks you as a new kind of person.” He wrote, “I haven’t been quite the same since I accepted those blueberries.” Perkins responded to racism not with hate or vengeance. He responded with fruit—love and compassion.
That’s the kind of fruit that becomes possible as we abide in Jesus. It’s the fruit that can change the world. The closer we stay to the vine, the more his fruit is born through us. It’s the fruit that makes all the difference in the world.
[1] Nicholas D. Kristof, “Evangelicals Without Blowhards,” The New York Times (7-30-11); http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/31/opinion/sunday/kristof-evangelicals-without-blowhards.html
[2] Richard Stearns, “Shedding Lethargy,” Leadership Journal (Winter, 2012).
[3] http://www.amazon.com/Mountains-Beyond-Healing-World-Farmer/dp/0375506160/ref=pd_rhf_pe_p_t_3
[4] Charles Marsh and John Perkins, Welcoming Justice (IVP Books, 2009), 61-61.
