by Caryl Moll
I don’t know about you, but this has been a really long winter – one of the longest and hardest in my lifetime. Maybe I can blame it on COVID but also perhaps on my own underlying need to establish some sort of daily routine. I’ve been restless. I have also tried – desperately – to search for that “small, still voice of God” amidst all the sadness, despair and economic chaos around me. Admittedly I’ve struggled. I would bet you have too?
Ironically, my own quiet-times have been more fervent during this period. They’ve been more creative too as I have embraced the time to polish up my God-given talents. Quiet times have also led me outside to take a breath of fresh air and observe the changes that our Creative God is making in my own garden.
The transition this year from Summer to Autumn… to Winter …and now to Spring have been quite visceral. For me, the sounds, smells and temperatures have been far more pronounced than other years. I have literally felt God’s seasons in action. And it’s been such a joy.
The other day, armed with my camera, I took a walk outside again. It’s still early, but the signs of the approaching Spring are evident. The tiny mulberry tree, in one of my pots, is sprouting its first precious leaves. The African Speckled pigeons have produced two gorgeous fluffy chicks in the nest below my neighbour’s roof. Birds are twittering and the clearer skies and warmer temperatures are heralding a brand, new season.
As I walked around to the back of the house, I also noticed our old Fig Tree in the corner. To the human eye, it looks all but dead. It made me think of Jesus and how, during that Passover week, He also noticed a fig tree. I edged closer to its branches to get a better look.
“Look carefully,” a little voice whispers.
Unlike Jesus’s tree, mine seems to have big, strong buds. With my tree, there’s a sure sign that a revival is happening underneath its dark bark. There is definite life in its old branches even though they looked ugly and gnarled.
Like a rose bush producing its first rose, my fig tree is quietly working its magic. In a few months, the fruit and beautiful emerald green leaves will appear. Its crop should be abundant, I have no doubt. This tree should produce a healthy crop.
But what about us?
Whether we are in business, other economic fields or at home, the fact remains:
We are God’s fig trees!
Yes, we are all custodians of our Lord’s Creation and His people. By our actions and words, we all bear some kind of fruit – good or bad. And we can, indeed, compare ourselves to the fig trees that God has planted. Are we wilting? Or are we flourishing? Will be produce a bountiful harvest? Or does a curse await us? Either way, the New Season will arrive and God’s careful plans will prevail. The question is: are we ready to step up to His stage?
The one who guards a fig tree will eat its fruit,
and whoever protects their master will be honoured.
With love, in Christ