By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Last fall, a cheeky tree squirrel ate the autumn decorations off my front porch. One evening I had two pumpkins and a clutch of Indian corn; the next morning I had one ear of corn with several kernels missing.
And two hardened pumpkin stems.
So much for seasonal décor.
This May, I noticed a strange plant pushing up among the roses in front of our house, and I suspected an aerial fly-by planting.
By the time the squash-like plant matured and overtook the rose garden, green basket balls had formed on several stems, reminding me of last year’s autumn décor debacle.
From the fruit I knew the root.
In the natural world, that connection is easily recognized. The same principle is true in our hearts, but we overlook the spiritual application.
I’m currently reading three books, and last week they all intersected with the fruit-root concept. When something like that happens in my life, I know it is not coincidence but rather God saying, “Listen up!”
In Risk the Real, a stunning little book by Allen Arnold, the author reminds us that fruit always reveals its root. Arnold’s premise is based on Eden’s two primary trees around which the rest of the garden grew (Genesis 2:8-9). Tree number one was the tree of life and tree number two was the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
Adam and Eve were free to eat from any of the trees in that garden but were warned not to eat from tree number two.
They did, and that tree’s fruit has been reproducing ever since—death.
Death of dreams, death of relationships, death of hopes, and eventually death of the physical body.
The fruit-root connection also comes to life in Laura Frantz’s historical romance novel, Courting Morrow Little. Frontier life in the Ohio River valley is hard and dangerous in the 1700s. Settlers lose loved ones in cultural conflicts. Devastated, the heroine’s preacher father chooses forgiveness rather than resentment, even though it is hard. The heroine’s close friend refuses to forgive, and bitterness spreads from her hardened heart to everyone with whom she comes in contact.
The third book I’m reading is the Bible. In the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy, God again lays out two choices for his people: obedience and disobedience. Life or living without God and His blessings. He explains it this way:
“I am making this covenant with you so that no one among you—no man, woman, clan, or tribe—will turn away from the LORD our God to worship these gods of other nations, and so that no root among you bears bitter and poisonous fruit” (Deut. 29:18).
The fruit-root connection shows up again in the New Testament:
“Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God. Watch out that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many” (Hebrews 12:15).
It doesn’t take much to host a small bit of bitterness. After all, it’s just a little seed, like the mystery seed in my rose garden.
“But that person wronged me,” we want to say. And so the bitterness takes root and grows its poison. It afflicts not only the host, but also infects everyone they come in contact with.
Poison is poison, no matter how it’s packaged. And things eventually die—friendships, affection, trust.
Turning away and refusing God’s example of forgiveness causes bitterness to take root.
I’d rather not have pumpkins in my roses. And I don’t want to nurture bitterness in my heart.
God help me choose You and Your way. Help me choose life.
~
Of fruits and roots Share on X
Dan paid the blacksmith. “Thank you. I’ll be here early.”
He didn’t know what time Thorson and his crew would get to the ranch, but he’d just as soon get there first, which meant he had work to do.
He checked the traffic and cut across the road to the lane by the feed store. At the boarding house, he stomped his boots off at the front door, knocked on the screen, and at a cheerful “Come in,” trailed back to the kitchen.
Pop and Dorrie sat at the table enjoying pie and coffee. Quite a habit for his father to take up at his age. But the fact was, he didn’t look his age anymore. Somewhere along the way sorrow had sloughed off and taken the fruitless years with it.
“I wondered if you’d be back in time for supper.” Dorrie set another plate and cup on the table, then served a generous slice of canned-cherry pie.
Dan hung his hat on the hook by the back door and took a seat. “Thank you, Dorrie. This will do for me. I won’t take supper this evening. I’ve got three hats to finish before tomorrow.”
“Why the rush?” Pop asked.
“I’ll be gone tomorrow, all day I expect. Which reminds me, Dorrie, would it be all right if—”
“By all means,” she said. “I have a dozen crocuses and some hyacinths that arrived last week, and I want to get them in the ground.”
“You didn’t ask if it was all right with me.” Pop cut Dorrie a side glance, then winked at Dan.
Coughing to disguise his amazement, Dan took his plate to the sink. “All right, Pop. What do you think of spending the day here tomorrow?”
“She wants to put me to work in her garden. Thinks I’m closer to the ground than she is.”
Pop’s sense of humor was sprouting like those bulbs would next spring. “Well, don’t work him too hard, Dorrie.”
“Pffft.” She swatted the air and topped off his father’s coffee cup. ~Covering Grace
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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This is so good. It is hard to forgive but I have had God help me to do it and other times when I have to make the decision to do so more than once. I have also watched friends who hold on to the offense and lose so much. Thank you for your encouraging words. God bless you.
Thank you, Elaine. Yes, sometimes it’s hard to forgive, but not doing so costs too much. Thanks for reading.