We have an apple tree in our front yard.
Every year, it produces a lot of apples. There were actually a few years when it stopped producing for a while, but this year it came back with more fruit than I think I have ever seen on it.
And I mean a lot of fruit.
Now, I should probably tell you that I don’t have a green thumb. I don’t care to have a green thumb. I don’t want a green thumb. My husband takes care of the lawn, but between keeping up with the yard and keeping up with life, we don’t pay a whole lot of attention to this apple tree.
We pretty much figure it’s going to do what it’s going to do.
And this year, what it decided to do was produce.
The branches were absolutely covered in apples. There were so many that they started hanging lower and lower from the weight.
Then one day, I came home and noticed that an entire branch had broken off.
And this wasn’t a little branch.
It was a huge section of the tree, lying in our front yard, still covered in apples. Other apples had fallen to the ground, and before long the bees had discovered them too.
So Saturday morning, my husband went outside with his saw and started cutting up the broken branch while I gathered whatever fruit I could still save.
And as I stood there picking up apple after apple, I couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it was that the very thing the tree was supposed to produce had become too heavy for it to carry.
The problem wasn’t that the tree didn’t have fruit.
The problem was that the fruit wasn’t being taken off.
And I immediately thought about us.
Galatians 5:22–23 tells us:
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”
We talk a lot about having the fruit of the Spirit. We want to be loving. We want joy. We want peace. We want patience.
But standing underneath that apple tree made me think about something I hadn’t really considered before.
Fruit isn’t just evidence that a tree is healthy. Fruit is meant to feed somebody.
Our apple tree has been doing that for years.
One of our neighbors comes over and gathers apples to make pies. Another neighbor makes apple butter, jelly, candy apples, and all kinds of treats that she gives away or sells. Other neighbors simply walk by, reach up, grab an apple, and keep walking.
And we love it.
The tree produces far more than our family could ever use, so its fruit ends up blessing people all around us.
Shouldn’t the same thing be true of us?
If the Holy Spirit is producing love in me, someone else should experience that love.
If He’s producing patience in me, someone else should benefit from that patience.
If He’s producing kindness, goodness, gentleness, joy, and peace in my life, those things shouldn’t simply stay with me.
They’re supposed to feed somebody.
And yet we live in a time when it is incredibly easy to constantly fill ourselves spiritually.
We can listen to sermons all day long. We can stream worship music whenever we want. We have podcasts, Bible studies, books, devotionals, conferences, YouTube videos, and social media accounts constantly giving us more.
And none of those things are bad.
But we can spend so much time taking in that we forget that eventually we’re supposed to pour something back out.
We receive.
And receive.
And receive.
Meanwhile, the branches get heavier.
Maybe spiritual growth isn’t only about how much I’m taking in.
Maybe sometimes I need to ask:
What am I doing with what God has already produced in me?
Who is being encouraged because God has given me joy?
Who is experiencing kindness because God has been kind to me?
Who is being loved because His love has filled me?
Who is experiencing patience, gentleness, or goodness because the Spirit is producing those things in my life?
Because the fruit was never meant to stay on the tree forever.
Eventually, somebody needs to pick it.
Eventually, somebody needs to eat it.
Eventually, what God is producing in us is supposed to become nourishment for somebody else.
That Saturday morning, I looked at a branch that had literally become so full of good fruit that it couldn’t carry the weight anymore.
And I couldn’t help but think:
Maybe sometimes we don’t need another sermon.
Maybe we don’t need another podcast.
Maybe we don’t need another Bible study telling us what we already know.
Maybe it’s time to take some of what God has already given us and give it away.
Love someone.
Encourage someone.
Serve someone.
Forgive someone.
Be patient with someone.
Sit with someone.
Pray with someone.
Give somebody some of the fruit.
Because a healthy tree doesn’t produce fruit for itself.
It produces fruit so that others can eat.
