Streams of Comfort

This is a poem close to my heart, that I wrote some years ago. On a Sunday at church, I was wrestling in my mind with what growth and sanctification looks like. I felt like I was not producing the fruit I desired, but I was sure that my faith was sincere. How long does it take do produce fruit? I pondered. God answered me in the form of this poem. I began to write and felt like God was speaking to me directly. Addressing my curiosity, doubt, and discouragement. I had never experienced anything quite like it before. As you read I pray that you are encouraged that growing takes time. And if you trust in Jesus as Lord and savior of your life. Know that he is always tending to and growing you. Protecting, healing, and guiding you into a new creation. Where all things will be made new.

“Growing takes time”
Is something I was told by a friend of mine,
As I stood with him in an orchard,
Under an orange tree that was merely two years old.
Confused why there was not any fruit on the tree
I inquired, “Where is the fruit?”
With a slight frown on my face,
As this all felt slightly out of place.
A tree of this height and stature,
Had not produced any oranges,
And thus did not look different from any other tree.
My friend smiled and touched its trunk.
“It’s not time yet” he said,
With eyes full of expectation and wonder,
As there was no person who could be fonder,
Of watching a fruit tree grow.
He would come to this orchard both day and night,
And sometimes be awake until the morning light,
Pruning and encouraging each plant to grow.
He was not a hired hand,
And even though it was impossible to understand,
He was responsible for making each plant grow,
And then eventually, produce fruit.
“It takes 3-5 years for an orange tree to produce fruit”,
“And another 7-8 months for that fruit to ripen” he said,
For a fruit is not good until it is ripe.
There was no one more faithful than this friend,
Who would prune every tree placed in his care,
And sometimes I couldn’t help but stare,
At him, in awe of his love and dedication.
“Touch the trunk” he told me,
“It reaches all the way into the ground,
And receives the nutrients found,
To grow and produce its fruit”.
Then he suddenly turned to me with eyes,
That contained wisdom as old as time,
“It’s the same with you” he said,
“Wait for me to produce the fruit”.
I stared at him in shock,
And then felt a gust of wind from the West,
And watched it carry the image of the orchard and my friend away.
And then a thought came to my mind,
My friend had told me his name,
What was it? I couldn’t remember.
A whisper behind, in front of, and beside me said,
“It was Jesus”.
I smiled feeling relieved.
Yes, that was it.
The wind beckoned me forward,
And I continued on my journey,
Thinking of my friend and the orchard.

By Antoinette