The Apostle Paul is no farmer, but today he is talking
about produce. That is, he is talking about what is meant
to be produced in our communities, in our relationships
with each other. Namely, the fruit of the Spirit.
The presence of these fruit are clear signs that the Holy
Spirit is active and at work in any given community.
The presence of the works of the flesh, enumerated by
Paul, is a sign that that community is being led not by
the Spirit, but by its own self-centered desires—what he
calls the desires of the flesh.
It’s a striking contrast. It’s a rich metaphor. Fruit. Produce.
Paul is giving us a picture of fresh fruit and rotten fruit,
side by side. Of course we would say we would choose
the fresh fruit. He invites us to imagine how ridiculous
it would be to invite someone over and serve rotten
fruit. Yet, that’s precisely what Paul is saying that we do
when we find ourselves engaged in those activities he
characterizes as “works of the flesh.” We are serving
each other rotten produce.
It struck me recently that the words ‘produce’ and
‘productivity’ have the same root word, the same
etymology. This realization came as I was listening to
an interview with Adam Grant, who is an organizational
psychologist, and his interviewee was Cal Newport,
who is a computer scientist, a popular writer also of
technology’s impact on our work and lives.
The title of Newport’s newest book is called Slow
Productivity, and that title struck Grant as a helpful
oxymoron. Productivity, by definition, is supposed to be
fast and efficient. On the contrary, Newport makes the
case that producing quality, meaningful work is slow
and inefficient and often doesn’t go according to plan.
This is quite a statement, considering that Newport is
in the field—and a leader in it—of computer science,
which excels at making things faster and more efficient
every day.
The name of Newport’s book, Slow Productivity, is
borrowed from a movement called Slow Food. This
movement began as a protest of the opening of
McDonald’s in Rome. The Italians preferred the slow
food, painstakingly prepared, tested and refined from
generation to generation, to the fast fuel available from
McDonald’s. Millions around the world agreed, and the
Slow Food movement became a global movement.
The late pastor and author Eugene Peterson connected
this idea to spiritual growth. He quipped, “If I want a
potato for dinner tonight, it will do me no good to plant
it this morning.” Bearing the fruit of the Spirit happens,
by God’s grace, when we attend to the slow process of
planting, of watering, of tending to the seeds of God’s
Word in the soil of our lives.
But what if that soil is rocky soil? What if, because of the
stress and strain of our day-to-day, it becomes parched
ground? What if, because of some series of events, some
broken communication or fractured relationships, the soil
of our lives looks inhospitable to bearing anything good?
Here we would do well to remember the words of the
prophet Isaiah, where God says, “I am about to do a
new thing; don’t you perceive it? I will make a way in the
wilderness. I will bring rivers flowing through the desert.”
Friends, it is precisely in the rocky and dry ground of
our lives that God specializes in growing fresh fruit. We
heard just a moment ago, earlier in Isaiah, “a root shall
grow up from the stump of Jesse; a branch shall grow
out of his roots.” That is, where the community was
fractured, was down to the nub, God brings new growth.
Spiritual growth. Fruit that lasts. Abiding in Christ,
planted by streams of water, we can’t help but grow that
kind of fruit. And it is the fruit that we bear, the fruit of the
Spirit, that God means to use for healing, for restoring,
for bringing life into desolate places, for making all
things new.
My wife, Kelly, and I started our marriage together out in
New Jersey, in the suburbs of New York City. The cost of
living in that neck of the woods is very high, and starting
out, the only affordable apartment I could find was living
above a funeral home. Not very romantic. Through the
back window of our apartment, we overlooked a park,
which had a stream running through it. That stream was
an offshoot of the Rahway River, and it was a little canal
that helped the flow of water go through that crowded
neighborhood and not flood the houses nearby. It was
paved with stones and concrete. One day, staring out
of the back window of our apartment, I noticed in the
stream bed, through the concrete and the rocks, small
shoots and plants were growing through the concrete.
Just busting through. The concrete didn’t stand a
chance against those fragile little shoots and plants. So
close to the water, they couldn’t help but grow, even
through concrete.
The scene reminded me of how God brings growth
even in those places in our lives that just seem paved
over, those spaces that are inhospitable or even actively
working against the flourishing and growing of life.
So, what exactly is good soil for bearing spiritual fruit?
Very simply, the Apostle Paul suggests that it is a
community that is led by the Spirit that will bear fruit.
Like a shoot, like plants drawn to water even through
concrete, communities that are led by the Spirit—even
though they may be hardened or hurting or fractured—
can be fertile ground that can grow Spiritual fruit that
heals, that nurtures. Spiritual fruit of love that drives
out hate, where light overcomes darkness, where
reconciliation replaces factions, where kindness defuses
quarreling, where humble hearts produce God’s fruit.
Fertile soil looks like the mind and heart of Mary, the
mother of Jesus, who says, “Lord, I am your servant. May
it be with me according to your word.” The fruit of Mary’s
womb was our Savior, Jesus, whose Spirit may also bear
fruit in our humble and willing hearts and communities
as we are led by the spirit.
May it be with us, according to God’s Word. Amen.