there is something about that persimmon tree.it stands solidly, yet gnarled, dwarfed under the towering pine spires in the terracotta soil of louisiana. amid warm fall hues of deepening green, umber brown, deep red and rust, the vivid orange fleshiness of the persimmons catch the eye as floating autumn orbs bobbing within arms reach.
awkward, really, this tree.
lush branches adorned with needles and cones sway majestically overhead, all around, rustling their praises heavenward. yet with stripped fragile arms reaching wider than seems necessary from its lone black trunk, an offering is made. naked of adornment, this tree bears fruit. much fruit.
in this i find hope.
Lord,
i, stripped and fragile, desire to reach wide and open. unadorned, offering to You.
Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
John 15:4
