Picking blackberries

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pick blackberries."
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I was out walking through the hedgerows and over the fields today. As I walked I was lost in thought and in prayer.  I was hardly aware of my surroundings. Then, I spotted a thorny blackberry branch sticking out into my path. It was covered with ripening blackberries. I thanked God for this small gift and decided to have a little snack.

I did not grow up in a berry picking area. Last year my children and I took small buckets and went berry picking, sharing this first with one another. It was really fun! Very few of the berries found there way to the buckets as our purple fingers and tongues testified to our indulgence. As we picked, we discovered that a truly ripe blackberry needs only a slight tug to come off. If it doesn't come of easily in your hand, you leave it, knowing that it is not ripe yet.

Today, I walked along, spotting and enjoying the blackberries springing out of the hedgerows and lining my path. I tried to select just the right berries. I thought about the fun that the kids and I will have as the berry bonanza continues over the next few weeks. As I walked, I spotted a particularly delicious looking berry. It was full and dark. It looked perfect.

As I reached for it, I was careful to spot the thorns around it and to thread my hand through to it safely. I gently grasped it between my fingers and gave it a little tug. It did not come off as I expected. I looked at it again, convinced that it was right for the picking. I pulled a little harder. Nothing happened. A little frustrated, I gave it a firm jerk. As I did so, the branch bent and the surrounding thorns found my hand and arm.

I retrieved my wounded arm, examining the scratches as well as the berry I was now holding. It looked great! My mouth was watering as I popped it in. My taste buds were in for a rude shock, as the berry was sour and woody rather than tender and sweet. It looked so good, but it was not ripe. I shook my head at my folly. 

As I spat the sour fruit of my impatience out on the ground, I found myself wondering what that was all about. I realized that this small incident was an illustration of my approach to life and ministry. I survey the world around me, see opportunities, analyze the cost benefit ratio, and grab for what seems best to me. It all happens so fast that I find myself scratched and frustrated before I know what has happened.

I wonder what it would be like...If I would only slow down. If I would be more patient. If I would reach out a bit more tentatively and less grasping. If I would be less insistent and more responsive. If I would trust God to produce the ripeness and allow the unripe fruit to remain unpicked until He has made it ready. What would my ministry look like? What sourness and scratches might I avoid?