I have avocado trees in my garden.

They’re good trees. Tall, strong, full of green leaves. For years they’ve given me rich, buttery avocados that we’ve enjoyed season after season. But something has changed.

Lately, the fruit has become scarce. The leaves have become thick and wild, so dense that the sunlight can’t break through. And without sunlight, there’s no hope for the avocados to grow. The few that do manage to appear in high branches ripen too far out of reach. Most of them get stolen by monkeys. When some of them eventually fall, they crash to the ground and split open.

Wasted fruit.

I stood under those trees the other day and reflected.
So much growth, but so little fruit.

It’s clear. I know what to do. At the end of this season, I need to prune those trees. Cut them back so that light can reach the branches again. Shape them so the fruit stays low enough to harvest before it falls and breaks. Or the monkeys steal my fruit.

If I don’t prune, the trees will keep growing leaves.
But I will keep losing fruit.

And as I thought about it, I realized: this is exactly what Jesus was talking about.

We love leaves.
In ministry.
In our lives.

We love what looks like growth. We love being busy, making noise, activity. We build events, programs, strategies. We host conferences and training sessions. We network, we mobilize, we send out missionaries. We fill calendars and build structures. These things are good. Truly. Like leaves, they catch the light and feed the tree. They protect the fruit and provide signs of life.

But they are not fruit.

Fruit is people coming alive in Jesus.
Fruit is lives transformed by His grace.
Fruit is love in action, patience in trial, faithfulness through the storm.
Fruit is new communities of faith, new disciples learning to obey Jesus.
Fruit is the life of the Spirit made visible in our ordinary days.

Jesus was clear about what matters. “I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit — fruit that will last.” (John 15:16)

Not just leaves. Fruit.
Fruit that remains.

And if we’re not careful, our good intentions can grow so wild they block the very light we need. They crowd out the simplicity of the Gospel. We get so high on the size and activity of our ministries, that we forget to keep the fruit within reach of the people we’re called to serve.

Worse, we wear ourselves out. We climb higher and higher, only to watch the fruit fall and shatter. Or get stolen by the monkeys in our lives.

This is why Jesus spoke of pruning. “Every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” (John 15:2)

Pruning feels like loss, but it’s love. It’s the Father tending His vineyard, cutting back the excess so the life of Christ can flow freely again.

I know I must prune my avocado trees. And I know there are places in my life and ministry that need pruning too. Good things that have grown too big. Programs that block the light. Activities that exhaust the tree but produce no fruit. Busyness that keeps me performing but not abiding.

Jesus never told us to build leafy trees. He told us to bear fruit.
Fruit that feeds the hungry.
Fruit that brings life to the world.
Fruit that lasts.

Don’t be afraid to prune. Because when the leaves are trimmed back, the light will flood in again. And the fruit will come.

“This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.” (John 15:8)

So, here’s my challenge to you, me, all of us:
Stand under the tree of your life and look up.
Is there fruit?

Or just leaves?