When the fruit isn’t ripe, but the season is at an end

The bite of fall is in the air.

It snuck in while we weren’t watching. The mountains have already had a touch of snow. The rivers have slowed in their flow. And there are signs are all around us.

Suddenly the leaves in the trees are slightly off-color, the mornings are a little crisper, and the evenings a little darker. Even my body is slowing, preparing for the next change in seasons.

It won’t be long, now.

And then there are the tomatoes. They hang in bunches in the back yard. Their crop has been full of promise. Thick and rich with round living ornaments, the plants bow deeply, kissing the ground with heaviness. There is nothing like a pungent smell of a tomato plant, rushing to the end of the season.

It’s too soon.

The fruit (or is it a vegetable?) isn’t ready. I had a beautiful crop this year. Yet there are at least 200 cherry tomatoes still hanging — a pale green, weeks away from harvest .Will they beat the coming frost? How much more time do they need. I am eager for a harvest, but I’m nervous. I’ll check the forecast to see that the big chill is coming. And I fully expect that one day I’ll walk outside, thinking green, and instead be surprised by the deep red of fullness.

It’s time.

I’ve been at this Christian walk for years — no, decades. And like these green tomatoes, I droop in immaturity. I’m not ready for Christ to come. I’m not ready to go home. I still need a few more days — or weeks — or years. But I’m not sure how much time I have, as no man really knows.

While I eagerly wait for the day of His appearing to come, I need some maturity. I want to go home… I do, but I’m afraid that I’m just too green. I want to be ready.

Psalm 90 talks of “numbering our days, so that we may get a heart of wisdom.” It laments, “How long, O Lord? How long?” And it encourages, “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad in all our days…Let the favor the Lord our God be upon us.” It reiterates that we need to need to continue to work, right up to the end. “Yes, establish the work of our hands!”

Harvest should be a time of rejoicing. And I want to get at the point in my life when I do not fear this season. Because I’ll be ready.

How about you?