by Jennifer Greene-Sullivan
As an English teacher, I have always read the Bible for spiritual knowledge as well as for its literary elements. As a reader, a teacher, and a learner, I love a good parable or allegory. As a children’s book writer, I find myself writing parables and allegories more than anything else. So when Jesus teaches using parables and allegories, I pay close attention. I also admit that I enjoy a strong metaphorical rendering of biblical truth.
Earlier this week, when I called my mama just to chat, she used a perfect figure of speech—and I immediately noticed what felt like a God wink.
Tuesday evening, I called Mama to ask about her plans for the week, since she often travels out of town for work. She told me she had just left a nursing home in South Georgia and had pulled over at a gas station before checking into her hotel because she had ordered a box of chicken livers for dinner. I laughed, because just the day before, I had called my middle brother, Douglas, and asked what he was doing. He told me he had stopped at Friendly Gus gas station for lunch—chicken livers.
I laughed again and told Mama that both she and Douglas had stopped for livers this week when I called. That’s when she said, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—except for that one apple that drops and rolls so far away you never see it again.”
Mama was speaking metaphorically about my youngest brother, who has distanced himself from our family in recent years and treats his mother and siblings as if we no longer exist. That separation has been devastating for Douglas and for me, but I cannot imagine the depth of grief a mother carries when she mourns a son who lives only a few miles down the road.
Our shared grief—and Mama’s precise use of figurative language—caught my attention. I sensed the Father inviting me to see a bigger picture.
For the rest of the week, I found myself imagining a lush apple tree, full of red, crisp, ripe apples. A few lay beneath the tree, but one apple—true to Mama’s metaphor—had rolled far away from the rest.
That image immediately brought to mind Jesus’ many tree parables: the barren fig tree, the tree and its fruit, the cursed fig tree. But most of all, I kept returning to His words in John 15—where Jesus speaks of abiding, of remaining connected to the source of life. He makes it clear that fruitfulness is not a matter of effort, but of proximity. Apart from Him, we can do nothing.
In that light, Mama’s apple tree began to take on deeper meaning. The tree represents the Father—the source of life itself. Christ is the true vine through whom nourishment flows. And we, as the fruit-bearing branches, are created to remain—to stay connected so that life can be sustained and multiplied.
The question that settled in my heart was simple, yet profound: How far away have you fallen from the tree?
In Mama’s story, my youngest brother has separated himself from the fold of our family. Spiritually speaking, when fruit separates from the branch and falls from the tree, it begins to rot—cut off from nourishment, overtaken by decay. The fruit dies before it can complete the reproductive cycle needed to create new life—life that is meant to be abundant.
That question led me to another of Jesus’ teachings—the Parable of the Sower. In that parable, the seed is always good. The Sower is faithful and intentional. The difference is never in what is given, but in what receives it.
Jesus tells us that some seed falls along the path, where it never penetrates the soil and is quickly taken away. Some falls on rocky ground, where it springs up with enthusiasm but has no depth, withering when trouble or hardship comes. Some seed falls among thorns, where it is slowly choked by the cares of this world, the pursuit of other things, and divided attention. And some seed falls on good soil—soil that receives, roots, and produces fruit thirty, sixty, and even a hundredfold.
What struck me is that distance from the tree doesn’t always begin with open rebellion. Sometimes it begins with shallow roots. Sometimes with crowded soil. Sometimes with a slow drifting away that goes unnoticed until fruitfulness is no longer possible.
The apple that rolls far from the tree does not die all at once. It begins with separation—first from the branch, then from nourishment, then from purpose. In the same way, fruitfulness in the Kingdom is cultivated through remaining. Through rootedness. Through staying connected to the source of life.
Jesus never questions the power of the seed, but He invites us to examine the condition of the soil.
I began to wonder whether the condition of the soil really circles back to the choice of the fruit. Separation from the Father does not happen by accident; it is the result of agreement. A series of small choices—unchecked, unrepented, and justified—can lead to sin, and sin separates. The ultimate separation comes when truth is rejected outright, and rebellion is chosen instead. Spiritual atrophy follows. What once bore fruit stagnates.
Ask yourself the hard questions in this season: Have you come into agreement with the lies of the enemy? Have you allowed pride, offense, or self-deception to take root? Have you permitted the log in your own eye to blind you to the work of the Spirit and to truth itself?
When we stop examining our own hearts and choices, we drift farther from the tree without realizing how far we’ve gone.
The remedy Jesus offers is not complicated, but it is costly. He does not tell us to strive harder or perform better. He tells us to remain. In John 15, Jesus uses that word repeatedly—remain, abide, stay. Fruitfulness, He teaches, is not produced through effort, but through connection and relationship. Life flows only when the branch stays attached to the vine.
Remaining requires intention. It means choosing proximity when distance feels easier. It means returning again and again to truth, even when lies feel more comfortable. It means refusing to live severed from the source that gives life in the first place. If proximity requires forgiveness of your enemy or your brother, bring that difficult situation to the feet of Jesus.
Additionally, Jesus reminds us that remaining also involves tending. The Parable of the Sower teaches us that soil does not stay healthy on its own. Paths harden. Rocks remain unless removed. Thorns grow quickly if left unchecked. Good soil must be cultivated—softened by repentance, cleared of distractions, and guarded against anything that competes for nourishment. Is a hard heart, you’re unforgiveness, and a lack of repentance competing with your nourishment?
Remaining keeps us connected to the vine. Tending the soil keeps us receptive to what the Spirit is doing within us.
The apple that stays on or near the tree continues to receive what it needs to grow, mature, and reproduce. In the same way, when we choose to remain in Christ and allow Him to tend the soil of our hearts, fruitfulness follows naturally. Not forced. Not rushed. But alive—just as it was always meant to be.
Remaining is a daily decision, not a one-time declaration. It is choosing to stay near the source of life when distance feels easier, and truth feels costly. My prayer—for myself and for you—is that we would not settle for proximity in name only, but for lives truly rooted, nourished, and alive in Christ. May we tend the soil with humility, remain connected with intention, and bear fruit that reflects the abundant life we were created to live.
A Challenge for the Remaining
Remaining is not passive; it is a choice we make again and again.
This week, I invite you to pause and take an honest look at your proximity to the tree. Do not focus on condemnation, but study your choices with clarity. Ask yourself where you may have drifted—slowly, subtly, or deliberately—and contemplate and pray about where the Spirit may be inviting you to return.
Consider these questions prayerfully:
- Where have I allowed distance to grow between myself and the Father?
- What voices have I been agreeing with that compete with truth?
- What habits, attitudes, or distractions have hardened my SOIL?
- Am I choosing to remain, or am I merely assuming connection without tending to it?
Remaining begins with awareness—and it continues with obedience.
Scripture Study: Abide and Tend
Additionally, take time this week to read and to sit with these Bible passages. Don’t rush them. Let the Word examine you before you examine it.
John 15:1–8 (Abiding in the Vine)
Pay close attention to the repeated call to remain. Notice the promise connected to abiding, and the warning connected to separation. What does Jesus say fruitfulness depends on?
Matthew 13:1–23 (The Parable of the Sower)
As you read, ask yourself which description of soil most closely reflects your current spiritual condition—not your intentions, but your fruit.
Psalm 1:1–3 (A Tree Planted)
What does a rooted life look like? What nourishes it? What threatens it?
Hebrews 3:12–13 (Hardened Heart)
What role does daily attentiveness play in preventing drift and hardening?
Journal what the Spirit brings to the surface. Be honest. Be gentle. Be willing.
A Prayer of Commitment
Father,
I choose today to remain. Where I have drifted, draw me back. Where my soil has hardened, soften my heart. Where thorns have grown, give me courage to remove what competes with You. Where lies have taken root, replace them with truth. Jesus, I choose to abide in You—not in name only, but in practice. Teach me to stay near. Teach me to listen. Teach me to remain. Holy Spirit, tend the soil of my heart.
Produce fruit that reflects Your life within me— fruit that is alive, enduring, and abundant. I commit again to the tree. I choose connection over distance.
Life over decay. Truth over deception. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.
#AbideInChrist #RemainInTheVine #GoodSoil #RootedInTruth #BearingFruit #SpiritualFormation #DrawingNearToJesus #BiblicalReflection #FaithAndGrowth #ChoosingLife
The Aging English Major 