All Things

“…how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?”
Ro 8:32

I thought I had a monopoly on all the fruit of the sole fig tree in the park about a stone throw away from our house until the birds discovered the ripened figs.

“Who do they think they are,” I screamed aloud as I was chasing those hateful sparrows away with a hearty shout.

I have been paying special attention to that fig tree since it began to bud after the snow melted and the weather turned warm, and I visited the small tree at least twice a day as I was walking my dog. I thought I owned the scrawny fruit tree.

I guess I really don’t own it. The tree was donated to the city by one of our church members and the taxpayers foot the bill to hire people to water and maintain the tree. I may be stretching a little bit, but I do consider myself a part-owner of the fig tree, albeit a very small part, since I have been dutifully paying taxes.

My fellow owners of the tree in the neighborhood don’t seem to care all that much about the fig tree. Perhaps they have no idea of the identity of the tree or they simply don’t care for its fruit since it is not sweet enough to suit their American palate. Anyway, I thought I owned the tree by simply claiming it.

The Birds begged to differ, though. They didn’t seem to pay any attention to the bush-like fig tree until the fruit it bore started to turn soft and juicy.

After months of gazing at the figs and occasionally squeezed them to test their softness with my fingers, one or two were beginning to turn from dark green to pale yellow, and I knew my time of harvest was at hand. It took me a while to ponder whether I should consume the first fruit or offer it to the Lord. Not knowing whom to give it to if I were to offer the first fruit to God like the Bible commands us to do, I quickly pulled off the skin and ate it before my overly-sensitive conscience had an opportunity to tell me to do otherwise or to condemn me. I thought I was entitled to eat the fruit that belonged to God since I was God’s servant. The long wait seemed to make the fig so much sweeter. It was indeed heavenly to eat the fruit that the Lord Jesus seemed to enjoy eating while he was in the flesh.

I wasn’t the first one to pay attention to the figs, though. The birds seemed to know by instinct the figs were ready to be consumed. They were quite formidable competitors for the exotic fruit because they set their camp in the park and pecked at the ones that were softening up. I seemed to lose ground by the day and was disheartened. “Don’t they know how much I love figs?” I asked.

What they ate was to sooth their hunger, but I merely tried to satisfy my palate when I tasted the fig. It dawned on me one day. Quite different from the birds, I eat the figs not to survive, but to enjoy the sweetness that lasts but a fleeting moment. I should be ashamed of myself for competing against the poor sparrows for figs. Just because I have been given all things by my Heavenly Father, it doesn’t necessarily mean that I have earned an inalienable right to keep all things for my own personal enjoyment. There are starving birds everywhere who need the figs a lot more than I do. To me, eating the figs is just a matter of brief delight, but for the hungry birds it is a matter of life and death.