When we approach the final days of life, our mind tends to wonder what it was all for. We aren’t the same as we once were. We experience physical pain and have endured emotional loss along the way. Our spiritual growth is also coming to an end as we near heaven’s holy entrance. We’ve been weeded, broken, replanted, grafted, and pruned. From the point of view of an old gardener, named Ilan (which is the Hebrew word for tree) we learn what he discovered as he finished up his duties in the Garden of Gethsemane.

ILAN, THE GARDENER       

I don’t know how much longer I can continue on this way. My back is breaking from the constant bending. Why do I put myself through this day after day? My knees are worn out from the years of trudging the olive grove. My skin is shriveled and leathery from the afternoon sun. I’m eighty years old. I should be resting at the seaside, but here I stay. This garden has seen many an invader – not just the tenacious weeds that swirl in and out, sapping life from the beautiful plants. My country has been under siege for years and years. When Moses led my people out of bondage, they thought things would get better, but they just became a slavery of a different sort.

Now I’m all alone. My family has moved on. My wife died two years ago. For over fifty years she took care of me. She massaged my back after along day of hard work. She attended my broken and sun burned skin with herbs and oil. I miss her tender touch. I often wonder why the Lord continues to let me remain in these troubling times. I long to go to heaven, but know there must be a reason for remaining behind. So I’ll continue at my work until that day comes, even though my hands now resemeble the distorted trunks of the olive trees I look after.

The sun had finally dropped into the horizon as I gathered the tools of my trade and packed them into the cart. The road home seemed to get longer and longer each day. That night I decided to sleep under the stars and save myself the anguish of stumbling home to an empty house. The garden was a place of refuge for many. No one would notice an old man sleeping under an olive tree. A man named Jesus had used the garden as a place to meditate and pray. I’d heard Him preach over the last couple years. He had words that brought comfort and that I could relate to. He spoke often of planting seeds and reaping a good harvest. He obviously knew a lot about gardening. He even called Himself the vine. Many of His stories were related to agriculture and tending the fruit of the earth.

His voice was strong yet held a peaceful calm that gave a person hope for a better life. He often talked about those of us who were going through trials and physical problems. It was if He had experienced the same issues. He wasn’t here to talk about revolution or wars. All He wanted was to fulfill His Father’s plan for salvation. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I felt relief when He spoke about eternal life.

The stars were gleaming overhead. The smell of fresh fruit from the olive trees permeated the air. The aches and pains of the day began to melt into sleep. My wife would be worried, but she knew that I didn’t have the stamina I once had. Then I remembered, she was no longer waiting at home. As my eyes began to close, I remembered an ancient Psalm I had learned as a young boy.

“The salvation of the righteous comes from the Lord.” Psalm 37:39

I fell asleep knowing that there was nothing I could do to obtain salvation. It would have to come from the Lord alone. Was Jesus the One who would accomplish that?