Finding Hope in Christ
There is a particular Gospel passage that I have been turning over and over in my head the last few weeks. For the Third Sunday of Lent, Jesus gives us an important message of hope - one that’s relevant for all creatives. Let’s remind ourselves of the important parable that Jesus shares at the end of that Gospel passage:
“And he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. And he said to the vinedresser, ‘Look, for three years now I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none. Cut it down. Why should it use up the ground?’ And he answered him, ‘Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure. Then if it should bear fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”
Having grown up Catholic, I’ve heard this parable countless times. Jesus preempts this parable with a firm message calling for repentance, so I have always associated this story with a need for self-awareness - tone truly sorry for my sins and shortcomings, and to strive to produce good spiritual fruits.
However, at the Mass my husband and I attended, the celebrating priest was quick to point out a detail that is never noticed before. The vinedresser in the parable is Jesus, who tries to prune and cultivate each of our hearts to reflect the holiness to which we’re called. And what does the vinedresser say to the owner of the vineyard when he wants to cut the tree down? He asks him for more time. Effectively, he believes in the good fruit that he knows the tree to be capable of producing.
He has hope in the tree.
Even if the owner doesn’t see it’s potential, the vinedresser knows the care and cultivation that it takes to produce good fruit. He is skilled at recognizing disease, malformation, or other conditions that aren’t conducive to producing fruit, even with careful cultivation. How gentle and loving a reaction from the vinedresser, to ask the owner to grant him one more year to care for this tree.
And that little fig tree is all of us.
In a very real way, I often feel like that tree. I question how much fruit I am really producing, whether I’m using my talents in the right way, and if I’m responding to Jesus’ loving cultivation in the best way. It’s so incredibly easy to look around at my friends and family and colleagues, and to compare the fruits of our lives, and to feel like an utter failure.
My very intelligent brother is thriving in medical school. My friend from college has scored a recent contract with an A House opera company. My childhood friend started her own thriving business while also being a STAHM for her beautiful daughter.
Compared to those tidbits, my daily struggles to make ends meet and care for my family and try to be a saint feel horribly overwhelming. Why can’t I be doing those things? Why can’t I be achieving in the same ways? Why can’t I be producing those fruits?
And truthfully, maybe I could be achieving more. I have been blessed with a wonderful education and great community. I have made some great, meaningful professional contacts, and have had some incredibly opportunities. But still, there’s definitely more that I could be doing.
I find myself constantly walking the line of pushing myself to be better, more productive, more achieving, and also avoiding burnout, taking care of myself, and allowing rest. That line is so often blurry, and I am so often overwhelmed trying to balance both.
But Jesus. Jesus sees this struggle and is filled with compassion, and grace, and patience that far surpasses my own. Where I am tempted to despair for my career, Jesus offers me a certain hope.
The hope that I will bear great fruit, the very fruit that He knows I am capable of bearing with His grace.
The hope that He will not let anyone uproot me until I have achieved as I have been called to.
The hope that He knows me better than I know myself, and He is my defender and protector.
The hope that if Jesus is who He says He is, then I am who He says I am.