Gospel Through the Grapevine: John 15:1-8 - Fifth Sunday of Easter

Heard it Through the Grapevine
Creative Commons image by Steven Tyler PJs on flickr.com

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower.  ²He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.  ³You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you.  ⁴Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.  ⁵I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.  ⁶Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.  ⁷If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.  ⁸My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples." (NRSV)

Monday evening, the world watched in shock and amazement as rioters laid waste to the city of Baltimore following the funeral for Freddie Gray, who died while in police custody.

Thousands took to the streets—looting, setting fires, and hurling rocks at police. 

As the chaos began to escalate, a mother (of six) by the name of Toya Graham watched in horror as her only son hurled a rock at police.  She desperately chases her son into the riot, grabs onto him, and slaps him repeatedly on his head.  Here was a mom who was not about to lose her son to the violence tearing apart the city.

Amid the terror of humanity gone wild, tough love saves lives.

This makes Jesus’ words very fitting—because human beings have much in common with vines.

Vines can be a very powerful force of nature.  Once they’re planted, they’ll grow in every direction—and take over the landscape if given enough time.  Grapes, tomatoes, and beans are all fruits of the vine.  But these don’t happen without a great deal of care.  They need direction; they need support; they need pruning.  Otherwise, the vines grow wild and aren’t really good for anything.

In our Gospel, Jesus says that he is the vine and we are the branches.  God is the vine-grower. 

This isn’t something that happens by our choice.  This is just the way it is.  We belong to our Creator.  In God, we live and have our being. 

If we abide in the vine, we will bear fruit.  But abiding is more than just what we do.  It’s how we live. 

The fancy church word for this is liturgy.  Liturgy is the work of the people of God; the work of abiding.  We call our Sunday service the Liturgy of Word and Sacrament—because we gather to put our faith to work: confessing our sins; singing and praising God; listening to God’s Word; praying; receiving the sacrament.

But the liturgy doesn’t end at the door.  We take God’s goodness out into the world and share it with others.

We’re not doing any of this to curry favor with God.  We abide for the sake of what God does for us—and this is where it all gets tricky. 

It’s not in our nature to abide.  It’s in our nature to go wild, in whatever direction we wish. 

Let me give you an example: Elizabeth’s congregation and the congregations of her presbytery are partnered with a presbytery in Rwanda.  Many of these Rwandan Christians are survivors of the horrific genocide of the mid 1990’s.  These brothers and sisters recently learned of controversies presently dividing the church—so they resolved to hold a three-day fast and prayer vigil for their American counterparts.  Participation was close to 100%

It was decided that they would return the favor by holding an 8-hour prayer vigil—and Elizabeth invited me to take part last Saturday.  For thirty minutes, I sat with her in an empty room and meditated on the Word and prayer.  But I soon grew restless.  My thoughts returned to our messy house, my dirty car, and everything I had to do to get ready for Sunday.  As my mind grew restless, my body soon followed.  I started to get hungry.  I actually felt relieved when it was done. 

Jesus says, “Apart from me, you will do nothing.”  I was there to abide in Jesus—but I was accomplishing nothing.

For me, it’s difficult to abide because I feel as though my priorities and commitments are pulling me away from God.  Unlike the Rwandan Christians, there’s so stuff available for us to pour ourselves into.

It’s incredibly easy to break away from even the most basic disciplines of the Christian faith as we get caught up in the vicious cycle of more stuff to do than can ever be done.  Do you honestly think we could get 100% of our members to participate in a three-day fast and prayer vigil?  Such a thing is totally unreasonable by our standards.  But something as simple as going to church can feel just as unreasonable if you’ve become a vine grown wild. 

Abiding in Jesus means pruning.  It demands it—because apart from Jesus, we die.  Plain and simple.  All the world can offer us, in the end, is fear, frustration, and broken promises.  We need God’s pruning—and this demands an incredible vulnerability from all of this, to have God prune or cut out of your life things that you may count as essential to your existence.  It’s a daring thing to live in complete dependence on God—and not ourselves, or anything we can gain.

We who abide in the vine bear fruit: the sweet fruit of new life.  Everything that turned you into yourself is pruned away and gone.  Now you bear the sweet fruit of love.  The Jesus who abides in you lives through you.  God works through you to heal others and meet their needs.  God works through you to bring your neighbors to the faith.  There’s always an abundance of gifts to be shared. 

What’s more is that God gives to you the fruits that nurture your relationship with God.  Forgiveness frees you from the misery of sin.  You can face challenges and difficulties with utmost hope.  All the world can be in trouble, but in Christ you have peace. 

Apart from Christ, there’s nothing—never enough for you or anyone else.  Abide in Christ, and life overflows.  There’s time aplenty to be pruned and made new.  There’s time to be fed and time to feed.  There’s time to learn and time to teach; time to bear witness and time to listen.  There’s time to serve and time to be served.