Lone Trees and Vineyards.

^“ Then he told this parable:

“A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any.

So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard,

‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any.

Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’

“‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and carry manure to it.

If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”

–        Luke 13:6-8

 

 A few weeks ago, at a medical missions talk that both Cliff and I attended, Dr Tan Lai Yong recounted the parable from the bible. “The unfruitful tree,” he commented, “can be three things in the context of missions: the mission itself, the ‘unfruitful’missionary , or… yourself.” He elaborated: many times in medical missions, we will encounter “black holes”, akin to this tree in the vineyard that has been watered and fertilized day after day like all the other trees but does not bear fruit. The ‘black holes’ we encounter in missions could be the very mission field we devote our whole lives to but see little fruit borne, the missionaries we fund and support and who labour tirelessly but with little measurable achievement to show for, or ourselves, when after giving up our jobs and sacrificing our lives here, go to the mission field, only to find ourselves barren, lost and directionless.

Many times in his journey, he said, he felt like giving up. This confession comes from the man who spent 12 years with his family in China to help people with leprosy and disabilities, and who became the first foreigner to receive a national award to recognize his achievements for the poor and needy of China. But, he concluded, this story carried a strong message of Grace, that many a time, it is through God’s grace in our lives and the patience, mercy and second chances we receive, that give us the opportunity to finally bear fruit and achieve something of significance in our lives. The fruitless tree should have, by all reasons, been cut down, but was given another chance by a man who was willing to take a risk on it, to pour out extra time and effort on it even if the labour was tiring and demeaning, in the hope that it might, for some reason, flower and produce a harvest.

I remember, at this point, Cliff held my hand, looked at me and whispered, “If you are that tree, I will carry that manure to you for you.”

I had goosebumps, because I knew he meant what he said.

Lately, I have found myself irritable and volatile. Since the die-down of the fanfare of our wedding, I have found it a struggle to settle into the routine of life and work and chores, while balancing old friendships, new circles of friends, new conflicts and emotional challenges to deal with, a new job scope and the looming possibility of us uprooting to go where we sense God may be calling us to go to. The temporality of everything, the burden of finance (how will the future look like without a job?), the overwhelming thought of leaving for a cause bigger than ourselves and the frustration of dealing with the day-to-day routine and yet not directly seeing how I, how we fit into the bigger picture and our dream to reach out to the needy, and yet, still struggling to find meaning and purpose in the midst of this everyday grind… has left me feeling overwhelmed, to say the least.

We might not stay. And worse, we worry we might not go; We want to go to serve in a developing nation, and yet feel we could equip ourselves better; We both wish to take a year off to pursue our studies overseas- he in theology, and I, in public health and yet the financial figures of this investment weigh heavy on our hearts; we look at the future with hope, and yet, my eyes at the present are filled with despair and heaviness. Eight years after I believed in God, and two years after graduating from medical school, I wonder where I am now in terms of making a difference to communities in need. To be honest, there are times I feel no different from a black hole, sucking up the resources of training and yet not contributing what I think to be very much at all to the community around me. There are times I ask God why we are here, why we desire what we desire, and how we will get to where He wants us to be. I am a lone tree in a vineyard, asking God why I am barren, and when there will be fruit.

Cliff is more patient. He has always been the saner, more encouraging half. Being a missionary himself, having to sell everything he had to work for a non-profit organization whose work for him is often dry and mundane and frustrating as well, he anchors himself in daily prayer, with a deep trust in God to direct our future. He holds onto life loosely, and clings to God tightly. I joke, in between tears at times when I am being difficult and trying, that I am like a black hole draining him dry. He only laughs back, saying the gravitational pull of black holes is so great that even time stands still and is dragged out as one approaches a black hole, so his patience and love in those instances would be prolonged and last till the end of our lifetimes.

He reads to me every night part of the bible, and then a devotional. We fall asleep knowing we belong to each other and to God, but I always awake still feeling restless, feeling like I do not know if any of my skills or training or desire has been or will be put to good use. My flesh is here, my mind still stuck on my books and my heart is somewhere lost and wandering in the soot of Smokey Mountain, the heat of Mozambique or the hilly regions of Nepal. He is patient, he knows we will get there, but I am waiting, a fruitless tree in a vineyard wondering how far and how long and how much it will take for me to realize that some things take time.

On Monday we were invited to give a sharing to some girls from troubled backgrounds at a shelter- he encourages me when I share about my past experience with depression and how God enabled me to overcome it.

He supported me to enroll in a child psychology and counseling course part-time, he listens to and endures my rants about my frustration and vexation about this and that, he encourages me to dream and think about where God might be calling us to be at in future. And in the times I have reached the end of myself and exasperated us both, I see him telling me there is hope, that it has not all been useless, that God has a plan that is unfolding and we should not despair or be heavy-hearted. He prays for and with me, accommodating my whims when I am beside my rational self with emotion and frustration.

It is now that I understand how to answer the many people who have asked me, “How do you know it is the right man? What do you look out for?” The list is too long to list for this post, but I can say, that for a man to be a husband to nourish and cherish his wife like his own flesh till death do them part, he must be willing to “carry manure” to her when she is that lone fruitless tree, holding the hope for her to bear fruit. A man like this is sacrificial, loving, and seeks the good of others. He sees hope when you see none, he intercedes for you when you are barren, he is willing to sacrifice and display his leadership through servant-hood when you have no strength to grow. He shows grace when you are least deserving of it and need it the most.

So we don’t know what the future holds. We don’t know if we will be able to find sponsors for our further studies or missions in future. We don’t know if we will be barren or bear fruit for God. But one thing we know, we will be the ones to carry hope for each other’s dreams, be the ones to bear each other’s burdens, and pray until God rains showers of His grace…. to give us the opportunity to finally bear fruit and achieve something of significance in our lives… and fulfill that dream of a vineyard full of fruit.

 

“‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and carry manure to it.

If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”

–        Luke 13:8