Bearing Good Fruit - The Truth As Far As I Can Tell...

Here’s a poem I once wrote:

                 

This way friend!  Look, what do you see?

Here, taste the fruit of this fruitful tree.

A good tree bears good fruit.  It’s a pleasure to behold.

A bad tree bares bad fruit—rotten, mushy, mold.

 

Crisp refreshment, sweet juices drip.

Scents so heavenly—fruity, airy, whiffs.

Abundance, running over, the harvest bursting full.

This good tree bears good fruit, with a bounty left to pull.

 

Sour repulsion, slimy, mushy pulp.

Pungent, reeking odor—worm-ridden bulbs.

Worthless waste of labor, good only for the flies.

This bad tree bears bad fruit, and those who eat it die.

 

The soil is richly fertile, prepared with care and love.

The trees are pruned so neatly and watered by God above.

The roots do their duty and nourish each budding branch.

But the only thing that matters is if the fruit will make Him dance.

 

So what makes it bad or good?  What makes the discrimination?

Come on, you already know! It’s within your determination.

Good fruit is sweet and tasty—a pleasure to behold.

Bad fruit is spoiled and sour—rotten, mushy, mold.

 

Matthew 7:17-20 – ¹⁷A healthy tree produces good fruit, and an unhealthy tree produces bad fruit. ¹⁸A good tree can’t produce bad fruit, and a bad tree can’t produce good fruit. ¹⁹So every tree that does not produce good fruit is chopped down and thrown into the fire. ²⁰Yes, the way to identify a tree or a person is by the kind of fruit that is produced.

 

Of course, I’m no expert and certainly don’t claim to know everything, but that’s the Truth as far as I can tell…

 

Remember, God loves you and so do I!

 

The Hunt

The Hunt
By Chris Mullis – April 14, 2014

He stalks his prey. He is the hunter. He is alive. 
He senses the world around him more deeply.
To most it must seem an incredibly boring exercise—
to walk through the woods searching for game that never appears,
to sit listening in a tree stand shivering from the cold,
to come home empty handed more often than not.

Yet to those who know, it is the way you really hear the birds and the wind,
or sense a quiet that is not really quiet at all.
It is the way the snap of a twig turns on the ancient instincts in your soul,
remembering thousands of years of the hunt
when the next meal depended upon the success of actions took.
It is the way your entire being—every sense, every reflex and intuition—
comes alive the moment your prey reveals itself.
It is failing in the critical moment because you hesitate or
succeeding because you are decisive.
It is hours, days, months, or years of hunting
compressed into the moment of a squeezing trigger or flying arrow.
It is the sacredness of standing over a living creature in the last moments
as life bleeds out because of actions you chose.
It is seeing the blood on your hands and knowing you are innocent.
Those who don’t know may say it is cruel.
Perhaps they romanticize life, unaware of the real sacredness of it.
Perhaps they are unwilling to truly taste.
But those who consciously taste also know.

How Far I Can Go

Since I didn't preach a sermon at church yesterday, I thought I'd share something I wrote a couple years ago as I was grieving for a family that left my church because they disagreed with the United Methodist Church's stance on homosexuality.  This was what was in my heart and remains on my heart for the family and others like them.

How Far I Can Go

You don't understand how far I would go for you.

I can love you.  I can laugh with you,

cry with you, dance with you.

But I can't call what wrong right for you. 

I can serve you, worship with you, put you to work and work for you.

I could trust you, depend on you,

pray for you, be prayed for by you.

But I can't call what's right wrong for you. 

I could eat with you, sit with you, smile with you,

unite my heart with you, commune with you.

I can study with you, learn with you, teach you and learn from you.

I can lean on you, fight for you, suffer for you and die for you. 

But I can't call what's wrong right for you.

And I won’t call what’s right wrong for you.

You just don't know how far I want go for you,

but I can't call what's wrong right for you. 

I love you too much.