The most beautiful aspects of Lesotho were the peach trees for days all around the Valley. So in hopes of staying somewhat hydrated (I was desperate at this point), I ate about five peaches in my four-hour trek. With each tree I came across to pick that delicious juicy fruit, I became more and more frustrated. Exhausted at this point, I went for the peaches I could reach with minimum effort. These were the ones on the low hanging branches or ones already on the ground. Of course, though, all of them had holes in them or were bruised or just all-around rotten. But then I looked up in a tree and found the Holy Grail of perfect-looking peaches on the highest branches. I had just climbed a mountain, so why not climb a peach tree. So up I went, thankful for the incredibly long arms the Lord gave me because the best peaches were the hardest to reach. As I precariously balanced both feet on branches extending out in opposite directions from the trunk, and I expanded my wingspan to its full potential, reaching for one of the good ones, the Lord gave me what I had been asking for all month. He gave me a tangible way to understand how He views me that I could not misconstrue the meaning of. Right before my fingertips brushed the fuzzy surface of the peach and enclosed around the fruit, He very clearly reminded me, “You are a top tree peach.” Now I know this might sound a little obscure, but let me explain…
In college, I was in a sorority. I have most of my favorite moments and a lot of really incredible memories from those four years in TriDelt. However, at the same time, I have had some of the hardest and most frustrating times of my life inside that house. So much of who I am is because of who the Lord molded me to be in that house. The confidence He built in me, the integrity and drive He instilled in me, and the many solid friends I am taking with me for a lifetime came from being a member of the Greek system. It was during a low point when a sorority sister of mine stopped me and first told me about where I stood in the hierarchy of the fruit tree system. She told me that in comparing myself to everyone around me I was lowering the value the Lord put on the original. Anyone could come by and grab a piece of fruit up off of the ground or pluck one on a low hanging branch. The ones who make the effort and spend the methodical and intentional time to climb up in the tree are not going to come nearly as often. But when they do, man, are they going to be worth waiting and thriving up at the top of that tree for. Those who climb to the top are not looking for a second-hand copy of fruit they passed down on a lower branch. They come searching for the unique masterpiece of the perfectly put together and unmarked fruit in the highest branches. There is no desire or expectation in them for you to be any different than who you are because that is who they came looking for.
So as I unsteadily stood in the tree that balmy afternoon, I saw the meat of what the Lord wanted to teach me in this past lent season. At that moment, He very clearly told me, “You are not a low hanging fruit, so stop acting like you are. You are a top tree fruit as my daughter so let me love you and treat you like it.” Well, alright, Jesus. I knew this was going to be a pruning season, yes, but why did it have to be so painful? I guess this is what happens when the Lord peels layers and layers of carefully placed bricks that encompass my heart and the thoughts I had about myself. I learned Jesus is not concerned with the outward, because He created it and already called it good, so He does not need to waste His time there. His main concern is our hearts. Because as much as He loves the humans He creates, He also knows the possibility of fickleness and wickedness in their hearts. When they listen to the enemy instead of Him, He has to watch in anguish as His son or daughter chooses a life of sin rather than a life of freedom with Him. And that’s what I had been choosing. Bondage. I had been choosing the title of a low hanging fruit because that is how I viewed myself. That is the identity I acted as I deserved.
I was reminded of the story of Rahab in Joshua 2. I was struck with how she is referred to a few more times in scripture and each time her name is mentioned, it also mentions her identifier. “A prostitute named Rahab.” It is how we know her. Scripture also shows us that she was full of faith in sparing the two Israelite spies. And as a result is mentioned as a member of the heroes of Faith in Hebrews 11, as an example of those who are justified in Christ in James 2, and listed in the lineage of Jesus Christ in Matthew 1. In Rahab’s story, I clearly see whatever label we give her, and whatever label we give ourselves, the only true name of a daughter of God is the one He gives her. Called. Faithful. Rescued. Redeemed. This is what I long to be my identifier. I don’t know if I want the label after my name to specifically be “top tree peach,” but I want to emphasize the sentiment of it. I will choose to press into my feelings and believe the title and identity Christ has placed in me. I am a beautiful, whole, emotional, fierce, and passionate daughter of the almighty King of the universe. I want to shout it from a mountaintop, or even just a peach tree will do.