Wither

And the fig tree withered at once. When the disciples saw it, they were amazed, saying, “How did the fig tree wither at once?” Jesus answered them, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only will you do what has been done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ it will be done.” – Matthew 21:19b-21 (NRSV) 

It’s hard to believe how much power we’ve been given. 

We can move mountains if we want to, Jesus says. That’s what many of us focus on; moving mountains has become proverbial, after all. 

Because remember, please, that he has just withered a tree with his words, and has promised that we can do the same. Some of us don’t need Jesus’s reminder. Some of us—most of us, maybe?—already know that words can wither you fast. We finger the shriveled places inside and know exactly who said the thing about our bodies, or our identities, or our selves, that withered us right the way down to the roots. Some of us feel like we’ll never be green and growing again. 

So here are some words that have all my mountain-moving faith behind them: 

You are fruitful—and you are worthy whether you bear fruit or not. 

You are juicy and delightful—and even if you weren’t, you’d still be precious. 

You have the life-force of the universe inside you—even if it’s all stored underground in the roots, for now. 

Moving mountains is fine, I guess. But maybe a better use of all this power is to do what we can to make the sap rise and the branches unfurl in somebody’s withered heart. 

Prayer
Let me never again wither someone with a word. Amen.

About the Author
Quinn G. Caldwell is Chaplain of the Protestant Cooperative Ministry at Cornell University. His most recent book is a series of daily reflections for Advent and Christmas called All I Really Want: Readings for a Modern Christmas. Learn more about it and find him on Facebook at Quinn G. Caldwell.