I Will Bear Much Fruit

God promises us in John 15:5… “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

There is something very freeing in realizing that in my own strength I am barren. I wonder if I would ever begin to grasp it if my children had no issues, or if I always had something profound to say. The realization of my utter need for Jesus is one of the treasures I have found hidden in the darkness of watching my children struggle. It has driven me to Him, kept me seeking to know Him more, trust Him more. It has positioned me to glimpse His amazing grace, to experience His deep love independent of my success as a mother. John 15:5 tells me that the pressure is off. The fruit of my life will come from one thing… remaining in Christ, Who loves me.

Today I come to You, LORD, with my heart wide open, wanting to know You, wanting to love You. That’s all I can bring. And You say… “That’s enough. Come on in!”

 

(The following poem includes a reference to Elizabeth, whose story can be found in Luke 1:5-25. She was barren for ninety years until God brought forth John the Baptist from her womb. Jesus says of John in Luke 7:28 “…among those born of women there is no one greater than John”.)

In The Darkness

Barren

I wait on You.
You wait for me.
Tiny seeds of humility
In the darkness grow.

Hidden under quiet days

Where no one knows my soul,
And I wonder why
I can’t feel yours.

Who am I LORD?

No, who are you?
Blinded by the earth
That covers me and blocks my view
I push toward the warmth.

It’s true I cannot see You now

But the mystery is that somehow
Within these tiny sprouts you’ve placed a gift.
The weight of dirt cannot hold back
The force behind these simple cracks
The power in Your gift… tenacious faith.

Oh LORD, I long to see Your face,

Run into Your heart’s embrace.
To see the glory in Your eyes
And feel my soul be satisfied.
To catch that first full glimpse of Light
And blink away the long dark night.
To feel You move within my womb
Creating life out of a tomb.

Elizabeth…

Ninety years of barrenness
Formed a womb of humbleness
From which a man of greatness
Could safely be born.

Jesus, in my barrenness

Please bring forth Your humbleness—
From which something of Your greatness
Can safely be born.