The Apostle Paul is no farmer, but today he is talking

about produce. That is, he is talking about what is meant

to be produced in our communities, in our relationships

with each other. Namely, the fruit of the Spirit.

The presence of these fruit are clear signs that the Holy

Spirit is active and at work in any given community.

The presence of the works of the flesh, enumerated by

Paul, is a sign that that community is being led not by

the Spirit, but by its own self-centered desires—what he

calls the desires of the flesh.

It’s a striking contrast. It’s a rich metaphor. Fruit. Produce.

Paul is giving us a picture of fresh fruit and rotten fruit,

side by side. Of course we would say we would choose

the fresh fruit. He invites us to imagine how ridiculous

it would be to invite someone over and serve rotten

fruit. Yet, that’s precisely what Paul is saying that we do

when we find ourselves engaged in those activities he

characterizes as “works of the flesh.” We are serving

each other rotten produce.

It struck me recently that the words ‘produce’ and

‘productivity’ have the same root word, the same

etymology. This realization came as I was listening to

an interview with Adam Grant, who is an organizational

psychologist, and his interviewee was Cal Newport,

who is a computer scientist, a popular writer also of

technology’s impact on our work and lives.

The title of Newport’s newest book is called Slow

Productivity, and that title struck Grant as a helpful

oxymoron. Productivity, by definition, is supposed to be

fast and efficient. On the contrary, Newport makes the

case that producing quality, meaningful work is slow

and inefficient and often doesn’t go according to plan.

This is quite a statement, considering that Newport is

in the field—and a leader in it—of computer science,

which excels at making things faster and more efficient

every day.

The name of Newport’s book, Slow Productivity, is

borrowed from a movement called Slow Food. This

movement began as a protest of the opening of

McDonald’s in Rome. The Italians preferred the slow

food, painstakingly prepared, tested and refined from

generation to generation, to the fast fuel available from

McDonald’s. Millions around the world agreed, and the

Slow Food movement became a global movement.

The late pastor and author Eugene Peterson connected

this idea to spiritual growth. He quipped, “If I want a

potato for dinner tonight, it will do me no good to plant

it this morning.” Bearing the fruit of the Spirit happens,

by God’s grace, when we attend to the slow process of

planting, of watering, of tending to the seeds of God’s

Word in the soil of our lives.

But what if that soil is rocky soil? What if, because of the

stress and strain of our day-to-day, it becomes parched

ground? What if, because of some series of events, some

broken communication or fractured relationships, the soil

of our lives looks inhospitable to bearing anything good?

Here we would do well to remember the words of the

prophet Isaiah, where God says, “I am about to do a

new thing; don’t you perceive it? I will make a way in the

wilderness. I will bring rivers flowing through the desert.”

Friends, it is precisely in the rocky and dry ground of

our lives that God specializes in growing fresh fruit. We

heard just a moment ago, earlier in Isaiah, “a root shall

grow up from the stump of Jesse; a branch shall grow

out of his roots.” That is, where the community was

fractured, was down to the nub, God brings new growth.

Spiritual growth. Fruit that lasts. Abiding in Christ,

planted by streams of water, we can’t help but grow that

kind of fruit. And it is the fruit that we bear, the fruit of the

Spirit, that God means to use for healing, for restoring,

for bringing life into desolate places, for making all

things new.

My wife, Kelly, and I started our marriage together out in

New Jersey, in the suburbs of New York City. The cost of

living in that neck of the woods is very high, and starting

out, the only affordable apartment I could find was living

above a funeral home. Not very romantic. Through the

back window of our apartment, we overlooked a park,

which had a stream running through it. That stream was

an offshoot of the Rahway River, and it was a little canal

that helped the flow of water go through that crowded

neighborhood and not flood the houses nearby. It was

paved with stones and concrete. One day, staring out

of the back window of our apartment, I noticed in the

stream bed, through the concrete and the rocks, small

shoots and plants were growing through the concrete.

Just busting through. The concrete didn’t stand a

chance against those fragile little shoots and plants. So

close to the water, they couldn’t help but grow, even

through concrete.

The scene reminded me of how God brings growth

even in those places in our lives that just seem paved

over, those spaces that are inhospitable or even actively

working against the flourishing and growing of life.

So, what exactly is good soil for bearing spiritual fruit?

Very simply, the Apostle Paul suggests that it is a

community that is led by the Spirit that will bear fruit.

Like a shoot, like plants drawn to water even through

concrete, communities that are led by the Spirit—even

though they may be hardened or hurting or fractured—

can be fertile ground that can grow Spiritual fruit that

heals, that nurtures. Spiritual fruit of love that drives

out hate, where light overcomes darkness, where

reconciliation replaces factions, where kindness defuses

quarreling, where humble hearts produce God’s fruit.

Fertile soil looks like the mind and heart of Mary, the

mother of Jesus, who says, “Lord, I am your servant. May

it be with me according to your word.” The fruit of Mary’s

womb was our Savior, Jesus, whose Spirit may also bear

fruit in our humble and willing hearts and communities

as we are led by the spirit.

May it be with us, according to God’s Word. Amen.