Jesus talks about pruning. He says that God prunes his people in order to bear more fruit. Agricultural experts at Texas A&M say that pruning has four purposes: plant health and growth; increased fruit and flower production; safety of people and property; and appearances and aesthetics. Translated, what does this mean for us? Because it doesn’t at all sound appealing.

For whatever pruning entails, it must involve some level of discomfort. Cutting off a branch at its joint, figuratively or literally, equals a definite act of severance.

We can consider pruning in relational terms.

“The trick to life: stop trying to be something and just be what you are and love it.” Thus reads the inspirational scrawling on the paper towel dispenser in my favorite café’s restroom. The handwriting and adolescent angst indicate the work of a teenager.

Obviously, someone had grown tired of the endless struggle to meet a nebulous cultural expectation about appearance, attitude, activities and general persona. He decided to stick with what he’d begun – himself. He’d let the rest sort itself, out because any other way would involve too much soul-contortionism. “To thine own self be true” he’d heard somewhere, and now he was offering his twist on the classic line.

Were I to buy the idea of Jesus sold to me by pop culture – the Sunday School portrait of a finely groomed man in a soft white robe holding a lamb, teaching only the golden rule – I’d have a mix of the Snuggles Bear, an Irish Spring shepherd, and a proto-hippie. Yet this limits him so much. He is, says and does more.

His explanations of life and how we should live it cause us to wonder where gentle Jesus originated. Luke 6:20-38. Luke 9:23-24. Luke 10:16. Luke 11:23. Luke 12:49-53. Luke 13:24-30.  Luke 14:7-14. Luke 14:25-33. Luke 16:18.  Luke 18:17. Luke 19:11-27.  These are just a few, and from only one of the four gospels. We could continue.

This Jesus offers us little room to think he’s just a feel-good guru. He’s teaching us something deep, hard and real. And he teaches in ways that are deep, hard and real. No matter how we understand these words of his, let us at least understand that he communicates something strong. He offers nothing cheap, easy or convenient.

Wanting to do some more writing, I began to look for a laptop. Pen and paper can’t compare to a word processor for speed and easy storage. My friend knew this, and he came up with a free used IBM his nephew hoped to discard. It seemed like an answer to a prayer.

Then I pushed the power button. The machine for which I paid nothing appeared worth the cost. It posed huge problems to utility, not even having Microsoft Word. The old files needed deleting, and the operating systems moved slowly. I had to download endless complex software to even begin simple writing.

Jesus said that believing is the "work of God." My friend thinks he means we are like computers. We need old files deleted, our operating systems reworked, and new software downloaded.

Few people focus on making money in their later days. As the twilight of their time here approaches, people rarely look to boast of achievements or primp their appearance. They don’t lord official or material authority over others. People nearing the end tend to deal with the questions within.

The deathbed turns a person’s thoughts to something higher. The old ways of the self fall to the side as eyes start searching for meaning, identity and purpose.

Why?

Perhaps previous distractions become more opaque in one’s later days. Issues seemingly marginal before move to the center. God enters.

We came to know that the earth orbits the sun through a revolution of thought. Before that revolution completed itself, the proponents of such preposterous thinking found themselves excommunicated, officially ostracized from the church. Copernicus and Galileo paid a hefty price for correcting the larger world’s self-centered understanding of the universe.

Looking down on that time from our scientific mountaintop, we see irony in the treatment of these men. They revealed truth, right? Why such enmity toward them?

“Dad,” he said, “I’ve had the best week of my life.” 

 

“Impossible,” the father thought. “He’s been at a work camp all week. What’s he been doing that he enjoyed it? What’s been so great?”

“We’ve worked, and we’ve been busy, and those are fine, but … I haven’t thought about myself once. I think that is why I’ve had so much fun.”

We live in a “me” world. Institutions cater to the everyman me, and all build up the great I. A collection of magazine ads reveals as much: “Quench your thirst.” “We can get you there.” “Is it in you?” “Drive your way.” “Where do you want to be?” “Get the good stuff.” “An army of one.” “Be all you can be.” “Your way, right away.”