Jacob 5 is the allegory of the tame and wild olive trees—the scattering and gathering of Israel. Years ago, I wrote in my margin: “A covenant handbook of horticulture for spiritual gardening.” The olive tree is a symbol of Israel, and the Lord is the Master of the vineyard.
As I studied this morning, I kept trying to stay focused on the scattering and gathering of Israel, but my heart was heavy. I had just learned of some beliefs one of my children has embraced, and I found myself grieving. It may have influenced my thoughts more than I realized.
Like the Master of the vineyard, I grieve at the thought of losing one of my trees.
At one point I wrote in my notes: The trees in the vineyard are God's children—you and me. That thought resonated with me today.
Trees grow best when they are tended by a gardener. They are dug about, pruned, nourished, and sometimes transplanted. None of those things sound particularly pleasant. In fact, they often involve discomfort. Why are they necessary? Because the gardener is trying to preserve the tree and bring forth fruit in its season.
The same is true of God's children.
Certainly the House of Israel has been scattered throughout the vineyard. The Lord has transplanted His covenant people to many places and circumstances. Sometimes we question His methods. In verse 22, the Lord tells His servant, “Counsel me not.” We often look at the inequalities of nations, circumstances, and opportunities and wonder if things are fair. The Lord knows what He is doing. We may not understand the digging, pruning, dunging, or transplanting, but He is working for our growth and ultimate good.
Verse 25 feels especially relevant today. I don't know a single covenant family that doesn't contain a mixture of tame and wild branches. It hurts to invest so much of ourselves in our children and then watch some of them embrace ideas or paths we cannot understand.
One of the most touching parts of this chapter is that the Lord Himself weeps over His trees.
As parents, we weep over our children. Sometimes concern for them consumes our thoughts and even distracts for a time. I found myself wondering: Do we sometimes get in the way of God's work when we try too hard to save our children from themselves?
Jacob 5 offers an interesting perspective. The servants work in the vineyard, but the Master directs the work. The servants do not decide where to plant, when to prune, or how to save the trees. Their responsibility is to labor where they are sent and trust the wisdom of the Master.
Perhaps that is true for parents as well. We nourish, love, teach, pray, and plead, but we are not the Master of the vineyard. Our children belong to Him. He sees things in their roots that we cannot see. He knows where pruning is needed, where nourishment is needed, and when more time is needed.
That doesn't remove the heartache, but it does remind me that this is ultimately His work, not mine.
Another thought came to me: God's purpose is us.
He wants to preserve us, teach us, and prepare us to dwell with Him and become like Him. This beautiful earth was created specifically for that purpose. Here we learn through experience. Sometimes we choose wisely, and sometimes we lose our way. It must grieve the Lord to see some of His choice children make foolish choices, yet He never stops working to reclaim them.
As the chapter draws to a close, it becomes easier to recognize our own day. We are living in the time of gathering. My role is simple: Gather! I will gather my family whenever I can, and I will continue gathering families through family history work. That is my charge as a servant in the vineyard.
When questions arise that I cannot answer, I return to a truth that steadies me. This earth is a proving ground where agency reigns. Some waste their opportunities. Some face challenges that seem terribly unfair. Some people's trials become tests for those who love them. Yet through it all, agency remains at the center of God's plan.
The Master of the vineyard never stops working with His trees.
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