The Parable of the Lime Tree

In a remote village, in a land both lovely but troubled, lived a beautiful and distinguished lady. She was admired by all who knew her and had a good reputation amongst those who did not. She loved her family and friends deeply and enjoyed its abundant return.

The lady spent her days tending to her childhood home located on the outskirts of town, crafting beautiful wares to be sold in the marketplace. She cherished living in her inherited home, surrounded by halcyon memories and mementos of the affection she had felt growing up. Her most favorite “keepsake” of all though was the lime tree that grew in the backyard.

It had always been a part of her life. When calamity had hit the village—storms, fires and floods—it remained, standing strong never ceasing to produce limes; delicious fruit that she partook of everyday.

Often she would exchange the limes with neighbors and friends, for they too had their own fruit trees. Each one brought their excess to the market to be traded—but never sold. For, the selling of such fruits had been prohibited since the beginning of the village’s existence.

Now, the marketplace was not quite as peaceful as its surrounding homes. It bustled with people and animals, sounds and smells filling the air. One could hear the calls of hawkers luring people to their booths, smell fresh fish wafting through the aisles, see brightly woven fabrics waving in the breeze and feel the abrasive bumping and brushing of humans and animals as they pushed their way deeper into the chaos.

In the shadows that creeped along the roads and buildings were the Takers.

The Takers did not inherit homes with fertile soil that grew lush fruit trees. Nor did they lavish in the good health that came from such a crop. No, the Takers survival was placed solely on what they were able to scrounge from others. And when they were unable to procure the fruit, they could feel life’s essence drain. It was in those times that they became somewhat desperate, tiresome, and even vicious, making them despised amongst the villagers.

Now, the history of how the Takers came to be is a long one, each one’s story a little different. Some were simply so because they were born into an existence devoid of fruit trees. Their caretakers for generations back had been lacking as well, so they had very little to pass on. These were trained out of need, learning to manipulate, hustle and swipe at an early age in order to stay nourished.

Other Takers had been prosperous farmers once, producing baskets upon baskets of lush fruit. But they did not protect their trees. They allowed pestilence to creep into the roots, which produced a harvest that they would pass onto their family and friends. Eventually, they became untrustworthy and were rejected from the community.

The lady, along with the other tree owners, grew weary and frustrated with the Takers who, at times, seemed to be around every corner. Some merely begged with distressed and eyes. But others were bolder, exploiting the villagers with tales of woe to manipulate their hearts— for they had learnt that fruit that was given freely tasted sweeter than that which was given reluctantly or stolen.

The lady’s kind heart made it difficult for her to make it through the market without engaging with the Takers. She tried to ignore them, so that she could trade her limes for other wonderful goods. But often, she caught the eye of someone she had once been in community with or a gaunt-looking stranger and had mercy on them and gave them the rest of her limes. This gesture was always appreciated, but set an expectation amongst the Takers that she feared.

On one such occasion, the lady headed home from a trip to the market empty-handed. Along the way, she slipped and fell into a deep crevasse, hitting her head upon her fall. Several days passed before she came to and was able to make her way out. She was weak, bruised and unsure of who she was.

With torn garments covered in dirt, she set out to search for who she was and find some nourishment.
But with her appearance now unsightly from her fall, she was not readily recognizable. Several acquaintances simply ignored her as they passed by. Her face was swollen, her arms and legs scratched and her clothes filthy with a smell to match. All that was beautiful was beneath the shell of her hurt.

She grew weak.

It wasn’t until now that she realized her dependency upon the limes. She had merely found them a delight when they had been available to her before, either by her own tree or as the loving gift from another.

But she was now in need.

Drawn back to the market that graciously met her needs days before, the lady found herself pushed into the shadows. Carelessly bumped into a position she had never held before: that of a Taker.

No one was praising her beauty, acknowledging her wisdom, enjoying her laughter, or encouraging her talents. Nor were they tending to her wounds. She was left alone. She reached out for help, for acceptance and for limes, but the act of her asking for it caused passersby to recoil and disdain her.

Desperate, she began to manipulate people to give of their fruit, but it only tasted bitter.

On a day of particular hunger and despair, another Taker—who was equally wanting—gave her a portion of their winnings. Normally, this fruit would have at least a tinge of bitterness, but as the lady partook, she relished the sweetness as the juice trickled down her chin. This brought a smile to her face and a flood of warm memories of shared moments with her family and friends.

She remembered who she was!

She was a blessed lady. Someone who was born into a strong family, nourished daily by the fruits of trees of people who loved her very much. who were not stingy in sharing that love. A lady who understood that the tree she had come to love and appreciate—that produced limes that nourished her very soul—was priceless. And its fruit was sweet when given freely.

She now wanted to share with everyone, even the Takers. She had been afraid before, worried that their insatiable appetite would lead them to expect limes from her all the time and she would be left with nothing. But she had come to understand firsthand that the Takers weren’t selfish or lazy, but hungry. And when they enjoyed the fruit freely given, they became strong enough to begin to heal, washing away the years of grime that was packed on them. She started to give abundantly, knowing beauty would be unveiled.

It took awhile for some Takers to trust the lady. They did not understand why someone gave so joyfully, expecting nothing in return. But as more and more people came out of the shadows, even the hardened reached out and received from her.

Eventually, the lady started giving out seeds along with fruit from her tree and the Takers began planting them around the village. Moved, other villagers followed, giving freely from their own fruit supply. In time, the moniker of “Taker” disappeared, for it no longer described the condition of any of the villagers’ hearts. They had become Givers. Each one seeing themselves as blessed.

The lady eventually passed away, but her lime tree continued to bear fruit for generations and generations. An incalculable amount of people were nourished, and seeds continue to be planted to this day.

The end.

From the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled:with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Prov. 18:20-21

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him. Psalm 34:8

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up. I Thess. 5:11

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Romans 12:9,10