There is something incredible about holding a piece of freshly picked fruit in your hand. Here in Southern California, fresh fruit is a constant companion. Out my back door, we grow apple, orange, tangerine and grapefruit trees.

It is one of life's simple pleasures to go out and allow the ripened product to literally drop in your hand at the slightest touch and pull. It is the natural completion of the yearly cycle of dormant winters, springtime blossom aromas and sun-kissed summer days that all lead to the moment of triumphal harvest.

Such sweet and fond thoughts were recently dampened by tidings out of the Middle East. There from this original fruitful land that God described as "a land flowing with milk and honey" (Exodus 3:8) comes news of agricultural ruin. It comes as a result of the conflict between the nation of Israel and the terrorist entity known as Hezbollah.

Wars can be complex, so much so that we talk about "the fog of war," because the picture of what's really happening can at best be shrouded in layers of intrigue and misperceptions. That's why often a picture is worth a thousand words. Such a picture can tell what went wrong, as well as what needs to be made right.

A different harvest

Such a simple picture of this complex Middle East tragedy from the Los Angeles Times jolted me into reality. It portrayed the utter contrast between the sweet tastiness of fruit and the distasteful nature of war. This picture allowed me to wander right behind the photographer into a small clearing in an orchard. There standing in an attentive and cautious pose was a fully uniformed and armed Israeli soldier with his finger on the trigger of his machine gun.

This photographic glimpse of man and war was carefully framed by the abundant bounty of fruit-laden branches, squeezing the conflicting notions of war and peace into one surreal form. The contrast could not have been more vivid.

Underneath the arresting picture was a title that said it all—"A Different Harvest." This teaser picture did its work in getting me to turn to an article that appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Aug. 4, 2006, p. A-12, titled "At Harvest Time in Israel, There's No One to Pick the Fruit" by Ken Ellingwood, Times staff writer. What greeted me on page 12 was not another picture of fruit, but real, everyday people whose plight and challenge opens up a whole world of understanding for us to consider.

Mr. Ellingwood opens his article by describing the human and economic woes facing the Northern Galilee area of Israel as "mounting by the bushel." He introduces us to Haim Bierenboim whose orchards lie next to the border of Lebanon. Rather than the common sounds of birds and the buzzing of bees associated with orchard life, there was only the whizzing whirl of Katyusha rockets and the dull thunder of mortar rounds that were coming routinely.

The hired hands simply would not go out into the field to pick the crops. Thus the fruit was just rotting on the trees. Mr. Ellingwood captured the frustration of Mr. Bierenboim's dilemma when he quotes him saying, "It's very difficult. I have a lot of problems with the workers. They don't want to work. They only want to stay in the shelters."

These workers come from as far as Thailand to be used in the fields of Israel. When Israel controlled the southern part of Lebanon, a steady supply of labor would come over the nearby border. But when the Israeli army moved out of Lebanon in 2000, the border was sealed from any foot traffic. Thus, foreign workers such as the Thais have been used, as well as Israeli Arabs. But naturally, due to circumstances, many foreign workers were warned by their embassies in Israel to get out of the range of the Hezbollah missiles.

"You sit there and cry"

Ken Ellingwood, the reporter, estimated that just in the first three weeks of the conflict, $20 million in earnings had gone to rot in the orchards. Desperate owners, frustrated by the lack of field hands, had striven to do it all themselves, from the picking of ripened fruit to packaging it while still fresh.

Yossi Levit, whose family has worked this land for nearly a century, gives voice to this frustration: "You work for these days to pick the apples and peaches, and you can't do it."

As the Israeli army widened its offensive, it closed the areas nearest the border and began to maneuver tanks and vehicles in through the narrow rows of orchards, only to decimate the fragile trees, even as farmers pleaded with them not to use their orchards for maneuvers. Once the military is in an orchard, the area becomes off limits. "Today, you go and look—it's like war. You sit there and cry."

Out of desperation to harvest, the farmers have tried every means at their disposal. Mr. Bierenboim tried to keep his crew by bumping their daily wages from $23 to $34. Even so, he was only able to convince six of his 15 workers.

During the interview, another farmer called on Mr. Bierenboim's cell phone desperately seeking any packers for his picked crop. He simply replied that he had six and none to spare. Yossi Levit was fairing no better! Only five of his 31 Thai workers had not evacuated the area, and those who stayed remained in the shelters afraid of the bombings.

Beyond that comes the sobering news that Ken Ellingwood gleans from Giora Sela, chief executive of Israel's fruit growers' association, who said that the full extent of the losses might not be known for months. At the time of the interview, the military engagement was in full swing, and no one had an idea of when it would end. Also, much of the Israeli population had been displaced, and their shopping patterns had been dramatically altered. And finally, a consideration beyond the immediate season is the thought of long-term infestation, as the farmers were unable to spray insecticide on their groves for such pests as the Mediterranean fruit fly.

Another stand of trees, another time

It has been said that war never leaves a nation where it found it, and that certainly applies to the orchards of northern Israel . But it wasn't meant to be this way. Long ago, probably not too far from this area, God planted two other trees. These special trees had a purpose beyond simply quenching our natural thirst and hunger. These trees would determine how we would choose to satisfy the spiritual hunger that lies deep down inside of each of us.

They were known as the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Genesis 2:9). And while they were in the same garden, and while they both produced fruit that looked suitable for human consumption, the fruit of each led the consumer down two different paths. God had placed no bounds on the tree of life, whose fruit would have directed humans to positive and constructive relationships with their Maker and their fellow humans.

There were no moats or barbed wire around this tree of life. Adam and Eve could have safely enjoyed its benefits of shade and fruit. It was there for the picking! But God told the first man and woman not to go near the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, whose fruit would direct man toward making his own decisions apart from God (Genesis 2:15-17).

We know from the facts shared in Genesis 3 that Adam and Eve decided to take matters into their own hands (verses 1-6). It is from this initial act of rejecting God's instructions that the "fruits of war" find their origin. Taking of this fruit told God that man had set a course for himself because he thought God's ways were too restrictive. Man determined that he would write his own rules and use his own reasoning. Perhaps it is best encapsulated in the words of Solomon: "There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death" (Proverbs 14:12).

It's interesting that, at the start of human history, those who walked among the trees thought somehow God's ways were too binding and He wasn't giving them the complete picture. Long ago, the prophet Isaiah spoke of societies that would separate from their Creator and seek to plant their own form of civilization. God's indictment of them is rendered as follows:

"Because you have forgotten the God of your salvation, and have not been mindful of the Rock of your stronghold, therefore you will plant pleasant plants and set out foreign seedlings; in the day you will make your plant to grow, and in the morning you will make your seed to flourish; but the harvest will be a heap of ruins in the day of grief and desperate sorrow" (Isaiah 17:10-11).

How did Yossi Levit put it? "You sit there and cry"!

A future joy of harvest

But this will not always be the case. Human history is going to be interrupted by none other than Jesus Christ. The scriptures of your Bible clearly declare He is coming back to establish the Kingdom of God on this earth (Revelation 19:11-16; Zechariah 14:4; Isaiah 2:1-4).

What an incredible reversal of news will greet the blessed recipients who will have access to the tree of life rejected by their ancestors. Let's consider the biblical words of this event. Notice Isaiah 27:1-3: "In that day the LORD with His severe sword, great and strong, will punish Leviathan the fleeing serpent...In that day sing to her, 'A vineyard of red wine! I, the LORD, keep it, I water it every moment; lest any hurt it, I keep it night and day.'"

God is going to partner with the subjects of His future Kingdom and guarantee the work of their hard labors in the field. The seed will be planted, the bloom of spring will bud, and the fruit of harvest will be picked. Isaiah 9 speaks in part to the first coming of Christ, but gains greater stature when one contemplates the fulfillment of these verses at His second coming.

"Nevertheless the gloom will not be upon her who is distressed...By the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, in Galilee of the Gentiles. [Where were the rockets hitting? Northern Israel.] The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has shined. You have multiplied the nation and increased its joy; they rejoice before You according to the joy of harvest" (Isaiah 9:1-3).

Oh yes, the Bible clearly points to a different world from the current existence of the Bierenboims and Levits and, for that matter, all the Lebanese farmers on the other side of the border. Micah 4:3-4 speaks of a time when "they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore. But everyone shall sit under his vine and under his fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid."

Why? "The mouth of the LORD of hosts has spoken." Again, why? Because His Kingdom will be set up on this earth! Folks, I have read this last verse literally scores of times over the years, but had never realized the full dimensions of its meaning until reading Mr. Ellingwood's article and coming to understand the plight of the Bierenboims and Levits.

I think far too often my focus in reading this verse has been on the benefits of a rural setting or the aspect of ownership. But the clear intent is that of peace and safety. Yes, of being able to sit in your garden or orchard in peace without missiles or mortars screaming overhead.

Amazingly Zechariah 3:10 builds upon the foundation set in Micah and mentions, "'In that day,' says the LORD of hosts, 'Everyone will invite his neighbor under his vine and under his fig tree.'" Imagine if that were today and Mr. Bierenboim invited Mr. Levit over to his place under the shade of the ol' apple tree? But there is such a world ahead for each of us.

"Pass it on"

When that time of ultimate peace comes is God's business. But as "Christian farmers," we need to continue to plant and sow the good news of this coming Kingdom of peace. Planting the seeds of awareness, understanding and hope will always bring a harvest to be tasted by some even in troubled times such as now.

I'm reminded of a story I heard long ago of an aged man who was digging a hole in his front yard. A little boy came up to the tired and sweaty old man and asked, "Pops, what are you doing?" And the old man looked down and said, "Son, I'm planting an apple tree." The little boy looked at the size of the tree and then looked up and saw the age of his elderly friend and said, "But, Pops, you won't be around to taste the apples when they do come."

The old man looked down with a generous smile at the face of his young friend, and said, "Long ago, someone I never met planted that old apple tree right over there just for me so that I could take a bite today. So, Sonny, just pass it on and learn the lesson."

It is in the words of this story that we keep on digging into the Scriptures and planting seeds of hope for those who will learn and pass it on. A new and better world is coming. It is in the words of "Pops" when he says, "pass it on" that we hear the reverberations of "This is the way, walk in it" (Isaiah 30:21).

And so I do, as I plant a seed in your mind and heart of a different picture than the one that confronted me in the Los Angeles Times. Yes, it's a hope-filled picture of the descendants of the Bierenboims and Levits and Lebanese and, yes, yours too, leaning back on a tree in an orchard munching on the fruit of their labor and inviting us over to sit and enjoy. Oh, yes, there will be trees waiting to be picked, and they will be in due time—for the loudest sound overhead will be the buzzing of the bees. Now, "pass it on."