After a heavy frost hits a vineyard, there is a small window as the weather mellows where the farmer tends to the vines and prunes the branches to save the crop. What has been hit by the frost are now withered shoots of new growth. The damage is evident. And so, with quick assessments and knowing hands, the one tending the vineyard prunes away all but one of the shoots to promote the greatest potential for regrowth. Once the vineyard has recovered and the shoots are stronger and plentiful, the second prune occurs—again the one strong shoot is left to produce the best grapes. This way there is no confusion within the vine about where to send all the resources and energy for growth; there is only one shoot to nourish. The key to a well-kept vineyard is simplicity.

In John 15, as Jesus sits at the table with his disciples sharing the last meal before he is crucified, he draws upon this imagery—of vines and gardeners. The imagery of a pruned vine is all the more relevant in context—wine was a central element to the meal, not only for the festival of Passover they were celebrating but also for the new covenant of communion Jesus illustrated that evening. With our foresight, we can see the value in the imagery of cutting off the unnecessary or withered things separating us from flourishing in our relationship with God.

Much like the pruning of vines, there is a precedent within Christian history to live a life of simplicity. Since the early Church, people have vowed to live lives of poverty or join monastic communities dedicated to simple lives. There is no explicit place in Scripture where this is required for holiness—in fact, depending on the translation, the word simplicity will likely only appear once or twice. Yet, in a simple life, we tend to find connections to God that we desire. But why?

Of all the men to ever live, King Solomon is argued to have been the wealthiest—he had everything he could ever desire and therefore much to potentially prune. Towards the end of his exorbitant life, Solomon writes Ecclesiastes and begins abruptly by proclaiming, “Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!” (1:2). When he looked at his life, what he found most valuable was not wealth or power or relationships; it was wisdom found in the lives of those rooted in God. We can want for nothing and it is still meaningless without God. Rather, it is the pruning in our lives and the singular dependence on the branches of the community of believers and the Vine that is God that helps us to bear the best fruit. Quality is found in the single shoot and the vineyard of focused growth makes for the best wine.

Even in the absence of direct lessons of simplicity in Scripture, a simple lifestyle rid of distractions—cell phones, to-do lists, or human demands—can be a reminder that pruning is good. Pruning strips us of the withered growths just as easily as it does the new buds that pull energy away from our primary focus. Seeking simplicity opens our hearts and minds to the wisdom of God. It directs us back to our primary focus of growing with God and relying on the resources found in community. Simplicity is the pruning.

“Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.” — John 15:4-5

After a heavy frost hits a vineyard, there is a small window as the weather mellows where the farmer tends to the vines and prunes the branches to save the crop. What has been hit by the frost are now withered shoots of new growth. The damage is evident. And so, with quick assessments and knowing hands, the one tending the vineyard prunes away all but one of the shoots to promote the greatest potential for regrowth. Once the vineyard has recovered and the shoots are stronger and plentiful, the second prune occurs—again the one strong shoot is left to produce the best grapes. This way there is no confusion within the vine about where to send all the resources and energy for growth; there is only one shoot to nourish. The key to a well-kept vineyard is simplicity.

In John 15, as Jesus sits at the table with his disciples sharing the last meal before he is crucified, he draws upon this imagery—of vines and gardeners. The imagery of a pruned vine is all the more relevant in context—wine was a central element to the meal, not only for the festival of Passover they were celebrating but also for the new covenant of communion Jesus illustrated that evening. With our foresight, we can see the value in the imagery of cutting off the unnecessary or withered things separating us from flourishing in our relationship with God.

Much like the pruning of vines, there is a precedent within Christian history to live a life of simplicity. Since the early Church, people have vowed to live lives of poverty or join monastic communities dedicated to simple lives. There is no explicit place in Scripture where this is required for holiness—in fact, depending on the translation, the word simplicity will likely only appear once or twice. Yet, in a simple life, we tend to find connections to God that we desire. But why?

Of all the men to ever live, King Solomon is argued to have been the wealthiest—he had everything he could ever desire and therefore much to potentially prune. Towards the end of his exorbitant life, Solomon writes Ecclesiastes and begins abruptly by proclaiming, “Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!” (1:2). When he looked at his life, what he found most valuable was not wealth or power or relationships; it was wisdom found in the lives of those rooted in God. We can want for nothing and it is still meaningless without God. Rather, it is the pruning in our lives and the singular dependence on the branches of the community of believers and the Vine that is God that helps us to bear the best fruit. Quality is found in the single shoot and the vineyard of focused growth makes for the best wine.

Even in the absence of direct lessons of simplicity in Scripture, a simple lifestyle rid of distractions—cell phones, to-do lists, or human demands—can be a reminder that pruning is good. Pruning strips us of the withered growths just as easily as it does the new buds that pull energy away from our primary focus. Seeking simplicity opens our hearts and minds to the wisdom of God. It directs us back to our primary focus of growing with God and relying on the resources found in community. Simplicity is the pruning.

“Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.” — John 15:4-5