In a Vineyard with the True Vine: Thoughts on the Christian Life in Southern France

Published in Christian Renewal magazine, 22 August 2007

I recently returned from a trip to the south of France, where my family had been invited to stay ten days at a friend's house. We made the most of our sightseeing opportunities, travelling east as far as Monaco, south as far as Figueres in Spain, and west as far as Andorra.

Before we travelled, I knew very little of Languedoc, the region of France in which we were staying. I learned while I was there that it is the biggest wine-producing region in the world. In 2001, more wine was produced there than in the entire United States. The drive from the airport to the house was memorable: as the sun was setting, we drove up a country road through miles and miles of vineyards, which stretched on either side as far as we could see.

The Languedoc-Roussillon region spans the Mediterranean coastline from the Pyrenees mountains at the Spanish border to the Rhone River in Provence. It is hilly, even mountainous in some areas, with wide, flat valleys stretching between the ridges. It is also very dry. Outside of the rainy winter months, the reddish earth cracks for lack of water. The plains near the coast are the hottest and most arid regions of France.

Languedoc's wines have been considered of the highest quality for centuries. In the 1300s, some French doctors prescribed them for their "healing powers." During the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth, the region was a center of France's various republican movements, and its vine growers shifted production toward wine for the "common man." Since the mid-twentieth century, however, the region has again shifted production toward higher quality wines.

It would be impossible to know exactly how many vines grow in Languedoc. Greek settlers planted the region's first grapes in the fifth century B.C., and some of those original vineyards exist to this day. Vineyards cover the broad, flat valleys and are scattered around the largest of the Cévennes mountains and terraced up the hills of the smaller ones. The backyard gardens of the local residents nearly always contain a few vines. They even grow in neatly planted rows in the middle of roundabouts on the roadways. The vineyards on the Côte Vermeille – where the mighty Pyrenees meet the majestic Mediterranean, with each natural beauty magnifying the other – are said to be the world's most difficult to harvest as they are terraced up the steep slopes from the water's edge to the mountaintops.

One morning during our stay, I was awakened even earlier than usual by the town bells, which seem to be omnipresent in the small towns of southern France. The bells ring around the clock: twice on the hour, just to be sure you know the time, and once on the half-hour. And at seven-thirty every morning (except Sundays), the bell rings several dozen times – a downright cacophony! – to tell everyone to get to work. We found the bells pleasant and quaint during the day, but somewhat of a nuisance to the unaccustomed at night.

The sunrise was barely beginning when I awoke, and I decided to take a walk. I walked out of our small town and into the surrounding vineyards. It was still mostly dark – there was only just enough light to find my way. As I rambled for an hour or so, that first hint of dawn bloomed into a full morning light. I picked and ate a few syrah grapes as I walked. Some were still green and not yet ripe; they were bitter, but still worth trying. Others were deeply purple and just right. They were the juiciest and most flavorful grapes that I have ever tasted.

I also read and pondered John 15 as I walked. "I am the true vine," Jesus said. He describes his people as branches on that true vine. He taught about the importance of abiding and bearing fruit once one is made a part of the true vine, and that the fruit the branches produce proves them to be disciples, friends, and those who truly love him.

It is too easy for Christians to forget about bearing fruit. We daily overlook the extent of our sinfulness and justify our shortcomings, as if they are just little things. We so often forget how much these "little" sins grieve our Savior and how destructive they are of his Kingdom and of ourselves. I was greatly convicted of my fruitlessness as I walked through those vineyards.

However, it is also too easy to turn our faith into moralism – that is, to make it seem as if our salvation depends on how well we live the Christian life. Whereas the true gospel says, "It has been done – salvation is found in Christ's work alone," moralism teaches, "It must be done – salvation depends on trying harder and doing better."

In John 15:3-4 Jesus says, "You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Abide in me and I in you." His entire discussion of bearing fruit presupposes a preceding cleanliness; it assumes that his people have already been made holy, at least to some degree. That is, it presupposes his own saving work already begun in their hearts.

Finding the balance between resting in the finished work of Jesus and striving toward the unfinished work of becoming holy is probably the most difficult aspect of the Christian life. We swing like a pendulum from one side to the other, one moment trying desperately to please God by our works and the next "resting" in Christ and lazily ignoring our own sins. Wrestling with this balance has caused quite a few theological controversies through the years, but perhaps this wrestling is what it means to work out our faith with fear and trembling.

The good news is that it is God who is at work within us. The same divine power that brought about our justification will one day bring about our sanctification. We will be made fully, perfectly, and beautifully holy even though we can never achieve that end on our own. We should never despair, for he who has begun the work will assuredly complete it – he has, in fact, vowed that he will.

Praise be to God that we have been grafted into the one true vine, and thanks be to him that he prunes mercifully. "I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved . . ."