One Last Grape

-Marcie Gribbin

(Adapted from John 15:1-11, and John 18, 19, &20.)

Imagine for a few minutes that you are one of the twelve disciples of Christ. You are relaxed, eating a meal with your best friends, and your Teacher begins speaking about vines and branches. Maybe He even picks up a cluster of grapes and plucks one, rolling it in His hand as He illustrates His point.

"Abide in me," He keeps saying, and though you are listening you don't quite understand what His point is. But you are having a good time, nonetheless. "Abide in me," He says again.

Someone passes the dish of grapes and you pick a cluster out, pull one grape off, and pop it into your mouth. You smile. Grapes are your favorite comfort food. They remind you of home. You recline a little and pop a few more grapes into your mouth. They are juicy and sweet and even quench the thirst you have been feeling.

"Abide in my love," the Teacher says, and you smile.

Of course I will, you think to yourself. I always will.

The Teacher says, "These things I have spoken to you so My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full."

You wrinkle your brow slightly as you pop another grape in. "How can I feel any more joy than I do right now?" you say to yourself. The Teacher continues and makes many intriguing points and you are captivated, as usual, by His wisdom.

But then, a few nightmarish days pass. In those few painful days you witness your Teacher being betrayed, tried, beaten, whipped, crowned with thorns, and nailed to a Roman cross. Then, He cried out and died. They buried Him in a stranger's tomb. And now you are together with your best friends again, in a locked room because you fear what your own people will do to you because you are a follower of the Teacher.

But this time everyone is quiet. No one knows what to say. Some are crying. Some are praying, but you are sitting quietly staring off at nothing.

Until you spot it-

That pretentious little bowl of grapes at the end of the table.

"Abide in me," you hear, and it sounds to you as if the Teacher was speaking into your ear. "Abide in me."

You stand and head to the grapes. You feel heat rising within you, passion born of helplessness and confusion. You know you are going to throw those deceiving clusters across the room. You pick up the bowl and are about to pitch it when a grape drops into your hand. On instinct, you cup your hand and pop it into your mouth. It tastes sweet and juicy and once again it quenches your thirst.

"Abide in me," you hear again.

And you cradle the bowl to your chest. You sit down and weep over it. It is the first time you have allowed yourself to weep in these last few wretched days. The tears flood like a river, but no one comes to comfort you. They are all weeping with you now. And you can feel the emptiness in the marrow of your bones, and you know they all feel it too. But you remember your Teacher saying something about joy. What was it?

These things I have spoken to you so My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full.

"But How will I EVER feel joy AGAIN?" you cry out. No one argues with you, or even looks at you. You know they are wondering the same thing.

"Abide in Me," you hear, though no one is speaking.

"I don't understand! You are gone! You are dead! I thought you were the Messiah! But they killed you!"

"Abide in Me."

"How can I abide in You? I can't even see You!" Your words cause some of the others to bury themselves further into their hands to silence their sobs.

And then there is a panicked knock at the door. You hear Mary Magdalene's voice, begging to enter. Someone opens the door and you look up. She stares right at you and says, "I have seen the Lord!"

You jump to your feet.

Mary explains that she saw Him at the tomb. You sit back down and wonder at her words. Your hand touches the bowl of fruit.

"Abide in Me," you hear again. And you think, maybe, you are on the verge of understanding. And then evening comes.

The doors are shut and locked, the windows closed. You are picking at the last cluster of grapes, occasionally tasting. You don't know what else to do with yourself. The others are still talking about Mary's testimony and you are sitting quietly, listening to them wonder aloud.

And then you hear.

"Peace be with you!" a voice says, so kind, so compelling.

You jump to your feet until you realize it is Him. Then you fall to your knees. He looks right at you, with eyes that show He knows you, every part of you. And you know He loves you, even still. And you see His scarred hands and feet.

And you KNOW…

Apart from Him you can do nothing.

You must always abide in Him.

He is the vine that gives nourishment—that quenches thirst, that gives life. And now you must bear fruit. And no matter what happens, from this day forward, you know that as you abide in Him, your joy will break through—and be made full.