Mark 11:12–14
Jesus walked up to a fig tree that looked alive—full of leaves, promise, and potential. But when He got close, it offered nothing. No fruit. No substance. Just the appearance of vitality. So He cursed it.
On the surface, it feels extreme. But look deeper, and it becomes something far more confronting.
This wasn’t about hunger—it was a living parable, a warning shot aimed at anything that pretends to be alive but produces nothing of worth. The tree was a symbol of empty religion, much like the temple He would soon cleanse. And it’s a symbol of what many of us, including me, can easily become if we’re not careful.
Here’s the challenge: Are we working on the right things?
Ask yourself, “Is my life producing fruit that reflects real intimacy with God? Or am I just managing appearances—clean on the outside, empty on the inside?”
I’ve seen it all—leaders with real depth, and others who have mastered the optics but have little under the hood. The danger is subtle: the more we gain influence, the easier it becomes to confuse production with presence, performance with purpose.
But Jesus isn’t fooled. He’s looking for fruit. Not polish. Not pretense. Not hustle. Fruit.
The homes we build, the resources we steward, the work we lead—none of it matters if it’s not rooted in deep transformation. I’ve caught myself trying to measure up, comparing outcomes, chasing metrics that don’t matter to heaven. Today, I’m reminded that fruit is grown in secret, in stillness, in real connection with the Father. And the evidence of that fruit is unmistakable: love, peace, joy, patience, self-control, and the quiet power of a life fully aligned.
Is what I’m building backed by substance? Or just leaves?
Jesus is clear—He confronts barrenness when it masquerades as vitality. And for those of us leading others, our fruit isn’t just about us. It’s the nourishment they’re meant to receive too.
So, let it be real.
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