Tree of a Different Color and Fruit

As Christians, we are called to be different. We are called to act different than the worldly actors. We should act justly and true. We are called to be set apart from the strangling thorny thickets. We are called to bear fruits of the Spirit. We are a tree of a different color. Our colors should represent the light of God.

(Act: Noun- The process of doing.)

Recently, I saw a post on Facebook stating, “She’s not acting like a Christian.” Well, my friends, the world should set us at a higher standard. The world should know we are acting and forgoing a Christian lifestyle. I know we all sin and fall short. If you fall seven times, get back up seven times and fight the false flesh! Show the world we are a different fruit tree among the sinful spectrum.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. - Galatians 5:22-23

Grow red apples of love. Sprout yellow lemons of faithfulness. Bloom glowing grapefruits of gentleness. Shine! Let your fruit glisten among men. We are trees of different colors. Our colors are vibrant and joyful. We are trees of different fruit. We produce ripened and fresh fruit amongst trees of mold and dingy dates. So, act, do, and be a rainbow of fruits amongst the worldly rain.

Comments

Look for the Blessing Red Birds, Cherry Blossoms, and Orchids of Beauty in Life

March has marched in with a vengeance of change. In the Trojan horse saddlebags hid a shrewd surprise, Coronavirus. The gray clouds of uncertainty pelted us with “riddle me this” rain. The Trojan horse then galloped over valleys of vividness. Alas, the vivid vex was prevalent over states and pastures. The virus staked our soil with transforming turmoil. Ah, but that riddle rain also brought with it growth of cherry blossoms. They grew tall and strong amidst wrestling weeds of “where’s the joy?” I was covered by those cheerful cherry blossom trees last weekend. My Birthday was March 16th. I must admit, I felt as if one of my unwanted presents was the looming virus. I sensed a thick foreign fog. But, my husband, my Superman, saved my “Birthday”. He pulled me from the dense fog and flew me around our “Metropolis”. We shopped, reminisced, ate cheesecake, and laughed with merriment. It’s as if he set me upon a marriage merry-go-round. Round-and-round we go, on love embellishe...

Pine Heart Roots

On a Friday afternoon, I packed the car and my mom and I drove down Sea Blue Lane. Our destination was Pine Prairie, Louisiana. Wheels rolled down blacktop while music notes rocked and rolled through the Malibu. We sped through Lafayette and entered “Country Land”. As I passed by horses, my eyes lit up with little girl joy, as usual. Cows grazed as clouds speckled their backs. The bayous were fading behind us as pine trees started to grow in their place. The scenery was refreshing, renewing our minds with fresh crawfish waters. We finally arrived at my cousin, Dana’s house and parked upon O’Banion territory. I needed to strip my bark of “stress needles” and regrow peace around my “pine heart”. I was feeling distant from my dad. Year after year, the roughness I once felt on his hand was smoothing. He is branded in my heart, but I needed that brand to be lit under fire ...

Ice Skating Beyond the Wood

I once lived out in the country, beyond the babbling noise of car horns, banshee sirens, and life's marathons. Those years were spent amongst the forest and foxes unseen. Turkeys and bubbly bunnies were our woodland neighbors. Milk cows jingled, jangled across the distant pasture. Tawny deer sidled near the glistening pond, making neighbors with their shadows upon the ice. God's peace nestled on the porch of our quaint "Ponderosa". My brother and I decided to go ice skating one December eve. My dad, a bristly fellow, took up shovel and headed to our pond "beyond the wood". He heaved and hoed, shoveling snow off the "present wrapped" ice. Snow tipped oak branches where robins once perched. Flurries floated, settling upon my hard-working dad. My brother and I dressed as warm as puffy Eskimos. We trudged and nudged through the white, pure land. Hopping Jacque Cousteau (my dog), followed our ...

Search This Blog