This week's Theme: Yet I Will Rejoice
Day 1: Through Cold and Drought
I listened to yet another report on the drought conditions in the area where I live. A hundred and fifty year old rainfall record had just been shattered— more precisely, a record for the longest period without measurable precipitation since 1874.
The report covered the impact on farming. I listened to interviews of farmers describing the challenges of low water storage levels, failing irrigation systems, and stressed crops.
Shifting to general steps for everyone to manage the drought conditions as best as possible, the experts offered a list of recommendations. In the segment on plants and trees, one tidbit of information immediately caught my attention: fig trees are more drought-tolerant than many other fruit trees, and can generally survive prolonged heat and drought.
I sighed with relief as I thought of my stalwart little fig tree— described by the nursery as a "Chicago Hardy." Three years ago, it had arrived as a scraggly band of sticks in late October. I was sure the nursery had made a mistake. How in the world could this pitiful looking bundle survive the winter? And with such a late planting?
No mistake, the nursery assured me. It's a Chicago Hardy, bred to survive extreme cold. Just follow the planting instructions. But spring came, and my worst fears were realized. The spindly pile looked decidedly dead. So I thought, and so did my cousin who often helped me with my gardening.
I called the nursery again, quills rattling with "I told you so!" righteous indignation. The patient, long-suffering representative asked me a few questions, then assured me that the tree was not dead. She gave me instructions on cutting back the plant to reveal the signs of life almost at its base. I skeptically followed her directions.
Over the next few weeks, to my grudging wonder, the pile of sticks quickly transformed into a thriving bush spreading rapidly outward and upward. By the end of the summer, it was a mass of lush, green foliage.
Winter that second year was relatively mild— but regardless, I had few concerns about my Chicago Hardy. And this time, growth was evident from the very first signs of spring. Through the summer and into late fall, not only had it branched up and out several more inches, but a smattering of figs popped up at intervals.
But it was this year— Year Three— that the flourishing truly began. Through the spring and early summer the branches were covered in buds and blossoms and by mid summer, fruit sprouted daily from between the leaves on every limb. Returning home from a late summer absence, I had to quickly purge the tree of the abundance of over-ripened fruit because they were attracting all the scavenger bees in the neighborhood!
The fruiting continued into the fall, into the early days of November. But as the drought deepened I was becoming increasingly concerned. I had been watering my fig and cherry trees at two week intervals, but lately I had been wondering if this was enough. I welcomed the new reassuring information about fig trees' ability to withstand drought. And I had already seen the ability of this particular variety to also withstand the bitter cold.
In many ways, the extremes my little fig tree has faced in its short life remind me of the seasons, the shifts, the changes, and the difficulties we often experience in our own short span. I think of Jacob's bitter complaint about his years of hard service under his father-in-law, Laban, “This was my situation: The heat consumed me in the daytime and the cold at night, and sleep fled from my eyes” (Genesis 31:40).
But even in the extremes of consuming heat in the day, and bone-chilling cold in the night, God was working to bring about the purpose and the plan He had described to Abraham in His covenant promise. And our sovereign God still works through cold and drought, and changing times and seasons, to bring about His perfect will and purpose.
Interestingly, the fig tree in Scripture is often used to represent God's people, individuals, nations, and the kingdom of God. Rich with symbolism, it often denotes promise, as well as deep and profound lessons of healing, growth and transformation.
But even as I think of all the important things Scripture teaches us through the fig tree, I look at my own Chicago Hardy, and I seem to hear once more the voice of Jesus, "Now learn this lesson from the fig tree..."
“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit” (Jeremiah 17:7-8).
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