One of my strangest pastoral conversations was with an elderly member of the congregation who asked if I would be willing to keep the headstone for her grave in the garage at the church manse, until it was required. She told me that at her age, she liked to have everything ready and in order, and the headstone was all made – Her full name was on it, plus the date of her birth and, if my memory serves me correctly, just two words: “Greatly Loved”. All that was needed was for the date of her demise to be added. She said that her family was finding it off putting seeing the grave stone around, so she wondered if we could store it in the manse garage instead. We had space, and I agreed, though I can’t say that it’s something I’d ever done before and for that matter, ever since.
The conversation had taken place at the farm that had been in her family for around 300 years – for they had been amongst the first Dutch settlers in the Stellenbosch area where I then lived. She walked me around the farm and showed me the family graveyard. All her ancestors were buried there, and she spoke a little about each. Then she came to a spot, not yet occupied, and said simply, “and that’s where I am going to be and that is where the gravestone you are kindly looking after will be placed.”
She said it with such tranquility. She knew her life was in the final lap, knew where her home had always been, knew where she belonged, and knew the God to whom she would return. Absolute tranquility – and indeed it wasn’t long before she slipped away one night, her earthly journey done.
Her sense of place and belonging was remarkable, I think because she had lived on that farm all her life, as had 300 years of ancestors before. Her sense of belonging flowed into every part of her life. She was deeply, deeply secure in who she was.
Stories like that are relatively rare. Perhaps you read this with a sense of envy. If only I belonged in that way… if only I sensed my place in the world like that.
Yet we are all invited to this kind of deep belonging. Jesus describes it in John 15:5 when he says “I am the vine, you are the branches. If you remain in me (older translations say – very beautifully – if you abide in me)– you will bear much fruit.” In this Jesus invites us to find our true home and identity in him. “I am the vine” he says. Be part of it… and as you are.. your life will be fruitful. Abide in me. Know that in me you live and move and have your being. You are mine. 1 John 3:1 puts it, “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God., And that is what we are.”
And that is what we are – children of God. Children invited to abide in Jesus the vine – so that we as branches can reach out and find our particular contribution, while still firmly part of the Vine – our true home.
I’ve often met people who are insecure. Sometimes they are very talented – but lack confidence. They constantly second guess themselves, and you can hear that they operate from a script that says, “Whatever I bring, it is not enough.” Sometimes it is hidden behind a fragile bravado, or even a despairing, but simmering anger… I am not enough, I am not enough.
Jesus invites us to a new script. A script where he is the vine and we are the branches. A script where we know where home is – where we know – deeply know, that we are the children of God. When that knowledge moves from head to heart it transforms us. Knowing whose we are, we are free to discover who we can become. From deep roots, we develop expansive wings. We can fly, because we are secure in the knowledge of who we are – beloved children of God. And Jesus is the vine, the source of our very being. He cheers us on as we branch out, as his hands and feet in the world.
Nice chatting…
Photo by Brett Jordan: https://www.pexels.com/photo/gray-concrete-cross-on-green-grass-11563477/
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