On one of my walks, I was pondering over expressions of love, and our expectations of what those look like. I realized that, for me, people show love to me by feeding me. (This is not a particularly edifying thing to learn about about oneself, but fortunately this sermon is not about me, but about God's provision for all of us.) This is not to say that I feel that McDonald's or Boston Pizza particularly love me, or are demonstrating love for me. No, what I feel as a gift of love is when somebody feeds me without me paying for it, without me doing anything in return, without any expectations of what I will do as repayment for this meal.
Also, while I have been out walking, I have been noting, cataloging, and inventorying the blackberry bushes along the various routes that I take. And shortly after I realized what I realized about people feeding me, I realized that this was a demonstration of God feeding me. God is demonstrating his love for me. I didn't plant the blackberry bushes. I didn't water them. (This is a particularly strong indication that God is doing the work, especially since I have been watering Deltassist's gardens all summer. Regularly. Religiously, you might say.) Nobody is taking care of the blackberry bushes. Indeed, when anybody does concern themselves with most of the blackberry bushes, it is to send out a crew to cut them back.
So, regularly thereafter, on my walks, which were taking place earlier and earlier in the morning to get out of the heat of the day, I was having breakfast with God. God's treat. God was providing the blackberries, so that I could have breakfast.
Blackberries are a pretty nice fruit. If you know what you're doing, and only pick the ripe ones, they're really sweet and quite delicious. And God is not only providing for me. The blackberries have some berries that come fully ripe into large, juicy, sweet berries. And some that stay small. And even dry on the vine early in the summer. So God's provision is not just for me, but for the birds, as well. These dried berries will provide nourishment for a variety of small birds well into the winter. Late in the winter, it may be almost all the nourishment that those birds can obtain in order to survive the winter.
This prolific provision, for people, bears, and birds, is probably an additional lesson that we learn from blackberries. The first lesson is, of course the provision itself: God loves us. God is providing for us. God provides for us in a variety of ways, and provides not only for us but for many others as well. God, of course, provides for, as he created, all living things. It's just that blackberries give us a very specific illustration of this.
Which brings me to the next theological lesson that blackberries teach us. It's rather strange that these blackberries grow in such abundance, and perfusion, and produce such delectable fruit, and provide so well for those of us who live in this area. Because these blackberries are not native to this area. What you know of as blackberries, and what pretty much everyone who lives in British Columbia thinks of in terms of blackberries, are not a native species. They are, in fact, an invasive species. God never planted them here. God created them elsewhere. They are known, for reasons which completely escapes me, as Himalayan BlackBerry. They don't come from the Himalayas; they come from Iran. It's quite possible that Abraham ate blackberries from this species. (Well, I guess at that point he was known as Abram.) Somebody imported them, and cultivated them in Oregon. And then the birds took over. And now you see blackberry all the way from Alaska to California. Himalayan BlackBerry. An invasive species.
So, what is the second lesson? God takes even our mistakes, and interference with his plan, and can make something good out of it.
There are native species of BlackBerry. I know of at least four different native species. I am getting really interested in native species of British Columbia, and I'm trying to collect samples of them. I collected two native species from a church in Delta, before I moved to Port Alberni.
So, lesson one: God loves us and provides for us. Lesson 2: God provides lavishly for everyone. Lesson 3: God makes provision for us, sometimes in very merciful ways, even when we disobey him.
Okay, that's three points. And we've already got the illustration. The illustration is blackberries. So, according to the rules, I've completed the requirements for a sermon. But wait! There's more! (God isn't the only one who can be lavish in his provision.)
God uses blackberries to teach us patience. (If we have the patience to learn the lesson.) As I said, I am collecting samples of native blackberry plants. I've collected samples this year. I've stuck them in pots, and watered them, and, so far, they haven't died. But I don't expect to get any fruit next year.
The first year that blackberries send out vines, they just send out long shoots. These long shoots cover a lot of ground. Sometimes the ends of the shoots touch down on the ground, in which case they tend to root into the ground, and develop a new plant. But what they don't develop is any flowers. Or any fruit. The first year the blackberry just sends out vines. The second year, those vines develop side shoots, and those shoots will develop flowers, and, eventually, blackberries.
So we have to wait. We have to be patient. God doesn't do things on our time, or our demand. God does things in his time. And his time is eternity. We need to learn that what we consider urgent is not. In the grand, universal, logical cosmological scheme of things, what we consider urgent is simply a passing phase.
Sermons: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/09/sermons.html
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