The vine, the true.

Haiku for bearing fruit

Jesus, the true vine.

In the image of the vine

we see fruitfulness.

The vine-grower God

seeks fruit in its abundance:

living laced with love.

Pruning. Harsh image

of being made fruitful. Pain

that leads to bounty.

Find your life in me;

together we will bear fruit,

fulfil God’s purpose.

By yourself you fail.

Take my words deep within you;

You will bear much fruit.

By bearing love’s fruits

you become my disciples,

and glorify God.

If you don’t show love,

pious words count for nothing:

you’re no disciple.

© Ken Rookes 2021

The true vine

Haiku for bearing fruit

I am the true vine.

Rural metaphors abound,

call us to bear fruit.

God the vine-grower,

keen to get a good harvest;

pruning the branches.

Painful metaphor

this pruning stuff. Us branches

were not consulted.

You received my words,

they have made you clean, worthy

to receive my life

Jesus, the true vine;

here is life, discipleship;

the important things.

We would bear good fruit,

creating love, forgiveness;

reshaping the world.

Become one with him,

find true life joined to the vine;

accept the pruning.

Choose to live in me,

he said, together we will ,

bear love’s precious fruit.

© Ken Rookes 2018

This imperishable wreath

We have replaced the perishable wreaths

with bags of gold,

and with shining medals,

and plates and cups of silver and crystal.

These reflect loudly the applied light,

demanding to be polished

as they slowly capture dust

on shelves and in glass cases.

The heroes of field, track and arena

are lauded and celebrated;

while celebrity becomes their greatest achievement.

Yet this too will pass,

the ephemeral silverware and all the rest;

even the undimmed glow of the gold

will one day lie forgotten,

beneath earth’s dust.

Empty, and yet abundant,

profoundly connected, deeply alone.

Torn and bleeding,

sometimes triumphant,

humble, hoping, defiant,

having nothing to do

with honours and earthly reward;

for all who compete

this imperishable wreath. 

© Ken Rookes 2015