Apples to ..... Blackberries?

Matthew 7:16 -- "By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?"

Losing our light, we - the "fantastic four" bounced around in the back of the tractor wagon as Uncle Larry and Dad drove us from the back acres to the house.  I was getting sleepy. Comfortable and content and with buckets full of fruit packed in around our feet, I could just make out the last of the daylight slipping behind the trees around us.  I looked over to see little Lewis. I guess the rest of the gang did, too, because we all burst out in laughter. There was absolutely no guessing where Lewis had been. The evidence was smeared all over him. From deep purple streaks in his hair to his freshly dyed diaper - it was obvious that Lewis had come with us to pick blackberries. SOMEBODY was headed strait for a bath when we got home. 

I'll never forget that particular June. On the last leg of our furlough from the Philippine mission field, Mom and Dad stopped in at the Ayers Family Orchard to spend some quality time with dear, dear friends. Becky and Lewis Ayers - when added to my sister and I - made up this fantastic group of four that managed to find the most amazing adventures together. Whether it was the slip-n-slide in the back yard, climbing trees, or fishing in the ponds using live Cicadas for bait, there was never a lack of things to do. And this was WELL before the time of X-Box and personal computers. 

Trust me, picking blackberries, especially when accompanied by little Lewis, WAS an adventure. Few "chores" could bring about so much joy and giggling. AND - there was always the payoff of getting to sample the freshly picked goods still warmed by their time in the lush Kentucky hillside. Yup, it wall fun and games .....

..... until our mothers had to wash the purple out of our clothing. [this was also WELL before the time of Oxiclean].

Barely beyond the threshold of  Casa De Ayeres, and without even peeking around the corner of the kitchen, Mom and Aunt Sherri simultaneously shouted "STOP!! Go strait to the bathroom and wash up!"

How did they always know? 

Well, for starters - we WERE out with our fathers [I say that with a heart full of warm fuzzies and a big grin on my face]. Most obvious, however, would have been that tell-tale bright purple, the smell of the trees and freshly picked green, and then of course - the fact that we were whispering in an effort to sneak in. There was just NO hiding where we'd been and what been up to. 

Wouldn't it be grand if the same could be said of me today?

While walking the roads with Matthew, Jesus said that we can be recognized by the things we do. The type of fruit we produce is determined by the type of seeds we sew. Frolicking in the backwoods of Kentucky we anticipated filling our buckets with blackberries, because that's what we'd set out to do.  We would have been quite surprised to come back with a bucket full of cherries or apples after spending all afternoon in the blackberry thickets. 

Are we producing fruit? Are we blooming or are we filling our vines with thorns? Do we pretend to be figs when we grow thistles?

While working for a rather large commercial insurance company a group of co-workers grew to a hush where once lively conversation had been spilling out from the break room. I'd just walked in to top off my coffee. They all looked up at me in a dead silence. I fidgeted with my hair and my skirt before I said "WHAT?".

"We can't continue this conversation with you in the room" one replied. "It's not G rated." 

I turned to get back to my desk but did manage to call out over my shoulder "I HAVE heard a dirty word or two in my life time." After all, I WAS in my thirties at the time and a married mother of two children. Yet, I couldn't help but smile as I seated myself behind my computer. Somehow I had given the impression that I did NOT appreciate the kind of talk in which they had been deeply engaged. I don't know what I DID to give them that impression - it wasn't like I was wearing a sign or brightly colored earplugs. But somehow, they recognized in me a discomfort during certain conversations. 

I pray that the same can be said of me now. I want to be recognized as a child of God, a follower of Jesus Christ whose heart is not my own. 

A dear friend of mine once shared with me a quote that I will never forget. At the time I was searching for something to put next to my picture in our high school year book. I ask myself this question still:

If you were arrested for being a Christian - would there be enough evidence to convict you?