Thursday, February 3, 2011

Want to Live a Life of Significance?


Dear Friends,

And planted it with the choicest vine.  ~ Isaiah 5:2

After fencing His vineyard, Jehovah did everything necessary to ensure good fruit, including planting the fertile soil with “the choicest vine.”  The word sorek, used to describe the plant, is the name of an especially fruitful species.  The rest of the world had not been cultivated by divine revelation.  Only Israel received the pure religion, the excellent law.  Ordinances that would help the Israelites keep up their acquaintance with God had been carefully and prayerfully instituted.  But God’s chosen ones became a wild vine unto Him (see Jer. 2:21), and because Israel would not listen to reason, the Lord took away “the hedge,” rained no rain upon them (see Jer. 3:3) and the land was trampled underfoot by their enemies.  But Jehovah promised that He would preserve the few who believed and that from the stock would come the very choicest of vines - Jesus Christ.  Our Savior used this vineyard metaphor in the Gospels, saying, “I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser” (John 15:1).

Did you realize you have been planted with the choicest vine?  His Father is your Father and mine - the Husbandman.  The fruits of Christ’s spirit - love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness (see Gal. 5:22) will grow within us and show without us when the branch abides quietly in the vine, is pruned into usefulness, and is nourished by faith.  Fruit hangs on the outside of the tree - displaying the tree’s nature, enhancing the tree’s beauty, and refreshing those who partake of it.

When we are inwardly submissive, we are outwardly obedient - and a hungry world is glad!

In Him,

Jill Briscoe
Executive Editor


1 comment:

  1. Oh Jill, you make being a Christian sound so lovely & fun. I even bought your Harrow Sparrow book to read to Laurie.
    Many years ago we had a baby born without a covering & only a brain stem. It was a surprise, and our 12 y.o. daughter was their with my husband in the car. So we had 1 1/2 hours of her short life to say good bye. I named her Alicia Allen, like my husband's mom (Grace Allen) but my husband said to make it Ellen, feminine. So legally her name was Ellen. But without the Reach East Home-Schooling group knowing, they sent me this poem & it was from Heaven to me. And I also just before this time went to a Bill Gothard Seminar where I heard that the heart is not merely a pump, but it's an intelligent organ that sends vital information to the brain and other parts of the body & "For as he thinketh in his heart so is he."~Proverbs 23;7a
    So we 'Think' in our hearts♥I loved this & I love your heart Jill.
    MY MOTHER'S GARDEN
    Her heart is like her garden
    Old fashioned, quaint and sweet
    With here a wealth of blossoms
    and there, a still retreat...
    Sweet violets are hiding
    We know as we pass by
    and lilies, pure as angels' thoughts
    Are opening somewhere nigh.
    Forget-me-nots there linger
    To full perfection brought
    And there bloom purple pansies
    In many a tender thought.
    There love's own roses blossom
    as from enchanted ground,
    and lavish perfume exquisite
    the whole glad year around.
    And in that quiet garden
    The garden of her heart
    Songbirds are always singing
    Their songs of cheer apart.
    And from it floats forever
    O'ercoming sin and strife
    Sweet as the breath of rises blown
    The fragrance of her life.

    Written by Alice E. Allen

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