A sweeter variety of fruit

Our lime tree is even now laden with fruit, though as the weather turns colder it will take a short rest until spring returns. Its fecundity is a mystery to me: our soil is terrible, the summer Tucson heat oppressive, and yet the tree thrives. Its limes are sweetly tart and perfect for adding an authentic zest to our favorite Mexican dishes.

There are two famous fruit metaphors in the New Testament. In the first, Jesus compares himself to a grape vine and us to fruit-bearing branches. If we live connected to him, nourished by him, our lives will be a testimony to God’s goodness and a sweet blessing to those we live with.

The second metaphor is more specific about what our fruit “tastes” like. The Apostle Paul says that the work of the Holy Spirit within us causes us to exhibit love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

A way to think about these things is that the process of being transformed by Christ should result in both inner and outer changes, testifying to the invisible fact that we have become children of God through faith in Christ. Our adoption by God is complete, but the transformative work of God in our hearts and minds takes a lifetime.

In the first years our lime tree produced very little fruit; now, some 10 years later, it blesses us with more fruit than we can use.

I recently ran across another reference to fruit while reading Paul’s letter to the Philippians. He writes:

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God. — Philippians 1:9-11 (NIV)

What does it mean to be filled with the fruit of righteousness?

It’s possible Paul is simply using different language to describe what he has formerly called the fruit of the Spirit. But Paul seems very careful with his words, so it occurred to me that he may be writing about something different here.

He begins by saying the he prays for the Philippians, who seem to be bearing the fruit of love — a mark of the Holy Spirit. He asks God to give the Philippians smart love, love that is insightful, love that is wise and discerning. This is not the sort of love that comes from a tagger’s sputtering spray can, but from the deliberate and carefully-applied brush strokes of a gifted artist.

Paul looks into the future and says that he wants these believers to be “pure and blameless” when they meet Christ. There is something about living with discernment and leaning into the knowledge of God that keeps us on the side of the good and true.

Next, he brings up this fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ.

I look at myself in the mirror and I do not see a righteous man. It’s not that I’m a moral failure, at least I hope not. It’s just that I know I fall terribly short of the righteousness of God himself, the one who will judge me.

And yet, the miracle of the cross of Christ is this: by faith, my sinfulness has been exchanged for the righteousness of Jesus, the sinless Savior. This is no lease deal; it’s an outright hard cash purchase. I am a child of God because I have been given the righteousness of his Son. That transaction was instantaneous. That exchange of my sin for Christ’s holiness was completed on the day I prayed to put my faith in him.

So, my thought is this: perhaps this fruit of righteousness is not something that grows over time, but something that sprouted and flowered in me from the very first moment of my salvation, when I was ransomed by Christ and deemed righteous by God.

And what might that fruit of righteousness be? Perhaps the inner peace that comes from knowing that God loves us and walks beside us? Perhaps the confidence that invites us to come before his throne of grace with our cries and confessions and requests? Perhaps the sense of relief that we must no longer fear death? Perhaps the relief we feel when our sin is lifted from our shoulders? Perhaps the comfort that exists in knowing that God’s purposes and plans are trustworthy and good? Perhaps the assurance that our lives have meaning and God is the author of our story?

I think the point Paul is making is that something very sweet and beautiful — yet invisible — happens to us as we surrender ourselves to Christ and accept the bargain to exchange his life for ours. When we are grafted to the vine of Jesus, that eternal, living tree fills our dried up veins with the sweet sap of his grace, and good things happen.

I don’t love well. I’m often not joyful. I can get carried away with anger and impatience…. But there’s something true and right and good and holy about me, about all of us who are in Christ, because Christ is in us, which means we have been made righteous in God’s eyes. Which means, and this is important, something otherworldly is now growing in the gardens of our souls, something that is filling us up with the sweet aromas of eternity.

Let us live with the certainty that we are deeply loved by God and have been declared righteous by the gift of the cross.