There was a tree that grew in the deserts of Arizona. It was watered by a small spigot that ran but a few short minutes each day. It was a fragile looking tree as its limbs were weak and its leaves were few. It was tucked behind a house, with a few other trees, but couldn’t have been more alone. You see, the other trees were cotton woods and willows, and in spite of the desert heat and the dry earth, they grew tall and proud and over shadowed even the house. This little apple tree, though, stood no taller than a man. When I first looked at this tree, I thought nothing of it beyond its frail frame and spindly branches. I wondered why this tree was so different from the others. I figured that some grow well and others just struggle to make it in the hostile landscape. It wasn’t the tree’s fault; it just wasn’t meant to be there.
One day in the spring, when walking behind that house, I suddenly spotted something out of the ordinary. A single white flower had budded from a branch on that tree. I marveled at the thought that this little plant could even grow a flower and left it at that. A few days later I wandered behind the house again and was astonished by my discovery. The tree was dressed entirely in white. Each flower was stunning white with the vague fragrance of honey suckle. The bees flew all around this tree and worked their wonders.
Within few weeks, the flowers had fallen and the bright green fruit hung from the branches. Apples.
I never could understand how, but this tiny tree produced more apples than we could pick. Buckets were filled and shared with neighbors. It seemed at the height of growth that each leaf had an apple with it and each branch hung to the ground because of the weight. I was astonished. As the years wore on, this pattern continued. Year after year, this delicate tree produced more fruit than could possibly be consumed.
Now, I have grown and am no longer in that desolate Arizona desert. But I sometimes think back and ponder the life of that tree. Today, I stood near a pear tree, and it reminded me. I mused aloud about the apple tree in the wasteland. Then, as if in answer, a farmer spoke, “It gave everything to its fruit.”
The words might as well have been uttered by God Himself. It took my breath away, and I was in awe at the example God had laid before me.
If a tree is green and full, with long branches and many leaves, then much of its energy has been spent on its own outward growth. But if it hasn’t expended that energy on growth, if it saves it all, it can then pour itself into its singular purpose making fruit. Rose bushes are another example, for they can’t grow roses unless they are trimmed. If not trimmed, they would grow into massive green bushes with no flowers.
“Lord, I want to be that apple tree. I live in a hostile world and I am frail. Teach me to live with that singular purpose. Teach me to give everything for the fruit!”