I’m going to tell you a modern version of today’s gospel (John 15:1-8). It’s a true story and it happened right here at St. Philip’s.

Several years ago when we were building our labyrinth and prayer garden we hired a tree guy from Camp Wood to shape up the big oak tree that is out there. It had gone years without any care or attention. It wasn’t long before I started getting calls. “He’s ruining the tree.” “Our tree looks terrible. He’s butchering it.” “You need to get over there and stop him.”

I called Blaine, our senior warden at the time, and he agreed to meet me at the oak tree. It looked bad, really bad. Blaine said, “It looks like you might have taken off a little too much.” The tree guy responded by taking our Lord’s name in vain. He continued with a flurry of cuss words. He finished by saying, “I wish I had known you didn’t want it done right, it would have saved me a lot of time and work.” He turned around, started his chainsaw, and went back to cutting. 

Blaine was mumbling about that little so and so from Camp Wood. I said something lame like, “Thank you, sir. We appreciate all your time and work.” 

Today that tree is amazingly beautiful and healthy. It continues to grow and flourish. It has become more fully alive and more fully itself. It has become more than I could imagine at the time. It is fruitful. 

I’m convinced the tree guy saw, knew, and maybe even loved that tree in a way I didn’t. I was looking at what had been cut, he was looking at what would be growing. I focused on what had become of the tree, he was focused on what that tree could become.

I think that’s what Jesus is doing in today’s gospel without, of course, cussing or taking the Lord’s name in vain. I think that’s how Jesus sees, knows, and loves us. Sometimes our lives need reshaping. Some branches need to be removed, others need to be pruned. Both are necessary and it’s not necessarily what it looks like.

The purpose of all that cutting is to be fruitful, to grow and flourish, to be more fully alive and become more fully ourselves. Isn’t that what you want for yourselves, for others, for our town? I do. That is Jesus’ focus in today’s gospel. Six times he speaks about bearing fruit.

We don’t get to choose whether or not we produce fruit. We do, however, choose where we abide and how and with whom or to what we stay connected. Bearing fruit is the natural consequence of being deeply connected to and abiding in something greater than and beyond ourselves. It’s a sign of health and well-being. 

Fruitfulness, however, is not the same as productivity. Fruitfulness is about flourishing. Productivity is about success and accomplishment. Productivity is about a quantity whereas fruitfulness is about a quality of life. Productivity measures value, fruitfulness has and expresses values like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23)

Fruitfulness is more about a way of being than something we do. Productivity is about tasks and strategies. Fruitfulness is about connections to and relations with God, one another, and ourselves. 

Does that distinction make sense? Can you see it in your life? I’m not saying we shouldn’t be productive or that fruitfulness is better. They’re just different and both are necessary. 

But I wonder if some of our divisions and conflicts, our exhaustion and burn out, our lack of meaning and a sense of belonging, often come from prioritizing productivity over fruitfulness.

What would a fruitful life mean and look like for you today? Which parts of your life today are bearing fruit and which ones are not? What about in your relationships, marriage, parenting, friendships? Do you see fruit? Is your work life bearing fruit? How about your life of prayer? What about your social and civic engagements? Are you becoming the person you want to be? Are you flourishing or are you dying on the vine?

None of that is about making a judgment of good or bad. It’s about making a diagnosis of healthy or unhealthy, connected or disconnected. And that’s good information to have. It helps us to know what needs to be pruned and what needs to be removed. It guides us in reshaping our lives.

Look at the parts of your life that are bearing fruit. How might you cultivate, strengthen, and encourage that? What needs pruning and how would you do that? Are you tending and caring for the fruit bearing branches of your life? If so, how, and if not, why not? What would it take to start?

I once read that good vinedressers give little attention to the fruit and most of their attention to the vines, branches, and soil. They know that if those three things are doing well the grapes will too. To what are you giving your attention these days? What are the practices, values, and prayers that support and nourish bearing fruit in your life today?

Which parts of your life are not bearing fruit? What attitudes, beliefs, or thought patterns are no longer life giving for you or others and what would it take to remove and let go of them? What’s getting in the way of the life you want to live and the person you want to be? What keeps you isolated and disconnected from yourself, others, God? What prevents you from flourishing?

Maybe there are some branches in the tree of your life that need to be removed. What would that take? How would you do that? Who could help you with that? 

“I wish I had known you didn’t want it done right,” he said. “It would have saved me a lot of time and work.” The Camp Wood tree guy was giving me a choice.

It’s a choice in each of our lives, this parish, and Uvalde. It’s a choice to reshape life and flourish or continue living a misshapen life.

Look at the tree of your life today. You probably know what needs to go. Most of us have a pretty good idea of which branches need pruning and which ones need to be removed. We’ve felt their weight sagging our lives. We’ve exhausted ourselves carrying the deadwood. 

What in your life today needs reshaping? Don’t you want your tree, your life, to be “right”? Don’t you want to flourish? It’s never too late. It’s really not. That’s the promise of Easter. 

So tell me, what’s the first cut you will make?