“Tell the righteous that it shall be well with them, for they shall eat the fruit of their deeds.” Isaiah 3:10 ESV

 

We’d almost made it. My daughter and I started at the back of the store and checked off our ‘quick in and quick out’ list items one by one.

It was lunch time on a Tuesday in July. Already, a full morning had passed: weeding in the community garden, shopping at another store where we didn’t find what we were looking for but ended up spending $50 there anyway. The last errand on our list was to the grocery, and the last items on the grocery list were in the produce section, and the produce section was closest to the checkout lanes.

“Apples. This is it, Sadie,” I said, reaching for the shiny orbs of Honeycrisp deliciousness on the top left bin of the bulk produce section.

“M’hmm,” she responded, not looking up from the book she’d immersed herself in while we shopped. I love that child and her bookish heart.

I plucked up an apple, inspected it and carefully placed the treasure in our basket. I turned to choose two more. These apples were nearly three dollars a pound. I wasn’t going to take any chances on blemishes. In my mind, apple choosing was simply a matter of good stewardship.

With an apple in each hand, I turned my back to the produce bins and ever so gently placed the apples with the others in the basket.

“That’s it! We’re done! Let’s go home.”

Sadie looked up at me then, a grin on her face. Then, she looked over my shoulder, at something just beyond me.

“Oh, Momma!”

My mind flashed to that scene in Jurassic Park where siblings Lex and Tim Murphy have escaped certain dino doom to return to headquarters where a feast had been laid out. Lex is eating green gelatine when she spies a velociraptor and gets all trembly. The joy of the feast quickly descends into raptor terror.

That scene is a fairly accurate representation of what I felt my face looked like when my daughter cried out, “Oh, Momma!”

You see, the bulk produce bins at our grocery are four shelves high and tilted so the back is higher than the front. Though I had been careful with the apples which I had chosen, as well as the apples I had left for the next shopper, when I turned my back on the bins one apple had shifted ever so slightly. Gravity did the rest.

Thankfully, only one apple made impact with the floor. Sorrowfully, it plummeted about four feet to get there.

I hung my head. My hands drooped to my sides. I looked at Sadie, who still stared at the apple on the floor. There was only one thing to do.

“We’ll eat this one first,” I said, and just as gently as I had handled the pristine apples, I cradled it in my hands and placed its little body in the basket, wounded side up.

I could not knowingly put this damaged apple back in the bin. Sure, on the outside there was no visible damage. Sure, I was innocent of gross apple negligence. Yet, I knew the apple’s story. I knew that under that still smooth skin, approximately half of the interior had been instantly sauced at the moment of impact. I knew, also, there was still a good bit of redemption possible for the undamaged portion. And I knew my child was watching.

One day, according to God’s promises, He will make a new heaven and a new earth for His redeemed to inhabit. We will dwell for all eternity in the presence of the Most High. There will be no more sin. There will be no more death and darkness.

Every apple will be perfect.

But this Tuesday in July was not that day.

With dinner that night, we ate the fated apple. I washed it well. I took extra care to carve out the mushy part, and even that wasn’t wasted because it went to feed the chickens. I placed the redeemed slices in a white glass bowl and slid the bowl to the center of the table.

The good parts were still sweet.

The lesson the Spirit applied to my heart, even sweeter.

“Tell the righteous that it shall be well with them, for they shall eat the fruit of their deeds.

God wastes nothing for those who are faithful. For those who are clothed in the righteousness of Christ. For those who are the redeemed of the Lord.

Beloved, what fruit are you savoring today?