The Good Harvest

Upon sitting down with the desire and need to blog, I have found myself almost completely void any deep and probing thoughts. I feel clean (for once), sore from the post-ministry jungle hike, a little sunburned, excited for the momentum my team is building, still smiling from the laughter just shared on the porch, irritated by the flock of flies attacking my computer screen, unsettled by the lack of tangible results from three weeks of dancing our hearts out before an unresponsive audience, and weary of the dull, nagging sense of purposelessness that is plaguing my team. I am happy, content, but not fulfilled. We all arrived with the hope and, possibly more accurately, the expectation of seeing immediate fruit from our labor. Sure, we’ve seen a few smiles, prayed a few prayers and held a few children during our long hours, but there has been no life-altering revelations, no miraculous healings, no genuine response from our audience or our pastor-turned-ring-leader who dictates our daily activity. There has been no good fruit.

But, is there such a thing as bad fruit? 

On our first day of ministry, I met a woman named Maria-Vicente. Maria-Vicente is approximately 1 million years old, has two good teeth, wears a little blue apron, speaks so quickly that I can barely catch every fifth word, and lives alone in a tiny shack at the bottom of a big hill. Three of my teammates and I were first drawn to her house by the beautiful hibiscus vines growing at the opening to her property, and were further sucked in by the shady fruit trees that kept her yard fifteen degrees cooler than the street adjacent to it. She eagerly pulled out two homemade wooden chairs and a tiny table to seat those of us who weren’t accommodated by the two cracked plastic chairs that usually sit on her porch, and began to speak to me at an almost incomprehensible speed. In thickly accented Spanish, Maria-Vicente told us about her children, all of whom now live far off and seem to have forgotten her, her husband who died decades ago, her lack of friends or caring neighbors. Loneliness seemed to seep out of her in to our susceptible bleeding hearts as the conversation went on. Taken aback by how dark and empty her life seemed to be, I asked her how she made it through. With a cackle and a slap on my knee she exclaimed in Spanish, “Oh, I have the good Lord here with me, and together we tend this garden. I’m never alone; He is all that I could ever need. Just Him, me, and these old fruit trees.” 

As our conversation continued, I asked her more about her garden and the multitude of mysterious trees that hung fruit down to eye level for us. She explained that she had not planted any of them, but relied on God to bring the sun and rain that they needed, and used their yield as a majority of her meals. One of my teammates then asked Maria-Vicente about her avocado tree with an overly interested hunger that lingered in the air. As a team, we have been yearning for guacamole and have been eagerly awaiting the avocado harvest from the trees behind our home. Maria-Vicente squealed again and shuffled in to her dark, smoky house. She returned quickly and thrust a purpley-green avocado in to my hand. “This one is ready. You take it and share it with your friends. It’s very good to eat,” she joyfully declared. As we walked away from her house, I opened my palms to inspect the yard-fresh produce and turned it over in my hands to inspect it. It was no longer firm, had green oozing out of the cracked top, and was filled with white mold. Maria-Vicente was right about the avocado being ready, but not about it being very good to eat. I laid the avocado to rest in the street a few houses later, and continued on my way.

Bad fruit? No, actually, not at all. The avocado was a product of Maria-Vicente’s dedicated heart and the provision of the Lord, and was therefore a good fruit, a perfect fruit. My team has been discouraged and continually distraught by the lack of good fruit harvested from our tireless labor thus far, but what if we are overlooking the good fruit by allowing it’s lack of wow-factor to classify it as bad fruit? The Lord’s provision has been promised to us, and He is now waiting for our dedicated hearts in order to grow Nicaragua’s harvest. With hearts that do not lean on the world’s understanding of good fruit and bad fruit and the presence of the One who holds all of the seeds, we cannot fail. 

Matthew 9:37-38 says, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.” The harvest is ready for the taking, and we have been sent out to gather it. Whether the fruits of our labor come in the form of restoration for an entire community, two fewer empty seats at church, a rotten avocado, or simply a smile on the face of an elderly toothless woman, the harvest is good and pleasing. We are the laborers, and we are ready to start reaping the products of seeds planted long before by the hands of an ever-capable Farmer.