A discarded fruit thrown on the ground by someone walking by a river was rained on, scorched in the hot sun and blown around until it landed near the edge of the flowing water. It lost its life but as the winds came and blew the lush and fertile soil particles over it, the seed was embedded deeper in rich earth. Soon little roots below the surface and a single green shoot above began their journeys. Downwards towards the river bed and upwards reaching for the sun.
After a season the spindly shoot grew to a small tree with a single fruit formed, but the fruit soon fell to the ground where it added its life to the soil. Many more seasons saw a mature, bent tree with twisted branches from the unrelenting wind, rain and sun. It was covered with hundreds of small, uninspiring fruits surrounded by more fallen fruit on the earth. The relentless weather conditions created a tree that had learnt to bend this way and that.
Always the fruit dropped. No-one ate. But the fruit of yesterday and long-forgotten had enriched that soil so that soon other trees grew from seeds brought by birds and animals. Then people came by to be nourished. Nourished by the tree’s shade, the ripe organic fruit and the beauty of the deformed, twisted tree by the river’s edge.
I am a tree. Often bent and scorched and frostbitten by life’s changing circumstances but always looking towards the Son. With my roots ever reaching for the water of substance and life whilst living in the soil enriched by sown fruit year after year.
Even the worst-looking fruit, long dropped, left and forgotten, is in some way producing more fruit for the future.
It took one seed to grow a tree and to produce fruit.