The lesson of the fig tree

The barren tree stood tall and proud,
Its leaves a lush and empty shroud.
Yet when the Master came in need,
No fruit was there, no faithful seed.

With solemn word, He cast it dry,
Its branches bowed, its roots denied.
Yet in this sign, a truth was sown,
A call to hearts not yet full-grown.

For faith is more than outward show,
It lives in fruit, it dares to grow.
The withered tree was not the end,
But love’s rebuke, a call to mend.

So let us bear, in season true,
The fruit of grace in all we do.
For hearts that trust, both firm and free,
Will never face a withered tree.

Anonymous