Monday 20 March 2023

Still Quarrying: The Fruitful Vine.

I have not been a diligent blogger recently.  At many levels the medication I am on at present is taking its toll.   However, what follows below appeared as a Facebook memory today, a pastoral letter I wrote eleven years ago when I was coming to terms with a blood abnormality that might develop into cancer.   I have no clear memory of having written it but thought it might be appropriate in the season of Lent.



 I had never read anything by Ben Okri until recently when this prize-winning novelist and poet wrote an article for a Sunday supplement.  He mentioned his childhood in Nigeria  in a time of civil war.  Young Ben saw things that even now he finds difficult to talk about.  Dead bodies in rivers.  People shot in the streets.  He writes:

 

‘I’ve blanked out a lot of it.  But writing comes partly out of being wounded by life.  Something has had to have bruised and shaken you a little bit; otherwise, why do we ask questions?  It’s very rare that people who have lived perfect lives become artists because the need to create art is connected to a need to heal something that is imperfect.’

 

There’s a lot to think about there but I am struck by his idea that suffering can be creative.  Certainly, you don’t have to go too far into the artistic world to find this borne out.  The painting of Van Gogh and the music of Tchaikovsky were the products of tortured psyches - and it has often been said that Bob Dylan is at his best when he is going through a bad time. 

 

Let’s be clear.  Suffering is never to be commended.  No one wants it.  Of course there are people, perhaps the majority, who look at their suffering and find no answer to the question why and, moreover, see no good in it.  But the testimony of people like Ben Okri shows there is this other side to the darkness.  And then there is the Cross.  On the face of it a disgusting spectacle but it stands at the centre of our faith as an assurance that there is forgiveness with our God and the promise of a life beyond this life.  Jesus sacrifice was motivated by a need to heal something that was imperfect in us.

 

This tells me that there are no no-go areas for our God, not even our experiences of pain, abandonment and anguish.  Nothing prevents him working out His purpose in our lives; in fact he works through our suffering to make us the people he wants us to be.  Jesus once said something startling: ‘I am the true vine and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.’  (John 15: 1-2)  I confess that I haven’t done much pruning in the garden but doesn’t it involve cutting, breaking and sap bleeding from branches?  But it is all necessary for the plant or tree to grow towards its full fruitfulness.  Jesus says the same process is necessary for spiritual fruit to grow in our lives. 

 

This is one of the challenges of Easter.  To live as Jesus lived in the firm conviction that while the Father’s will is sometimes hard, it is always good.