Bitter Oranges

When I was a student pastor in Florida, I shepherded a small church in Indian River County.  You may not know it, but the best citrus fruit in all of Florida grows there.  One day as I was returning to college after serving my church on the weekend, a deacon gave me several bushels of delicious oranges. 

I said, “Mr. Ingram, I cannot eat all those oranges before they spoil.”

He said, “Well, take them back to college, Adrian, and give them away.”

So I took the oranges back with me to college, lugged them upstairs to our tiny, second-story garage apartment, and put them in a closet.

One day shortly after that, I looked out into our backyard and saw a little fellow about seven years of age sneaking around in a suspicious manner.  He was looking every way but up.  (Does that remind you of anyone you know?)

I realized after a while that he was going to steal an orange from the lonely orange tree in our backyard.  I decided I would let him, because he did not know that this was a sour-orange tree.  In Florida these sour-orange trees are very beautiful ornamental shrubs, but the fruit is extremely bitter.  As a matter of fact, it is not fit for man or beast.

I watched that little guy as he plucked his prize.  Even though I was working my way through school, I believe I would have given a dollar to see him take that first bite.

Now the irony of the whole matter is this:  had he only knocked on my door and asked, “Mister, may I have one of those oranges?”  I would have said no.  But then I would have loaded him down with more of the very best oranges than he could carry.

Stealing, good gifts

Adrian Rogers, The Power of His Presence (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1995), 136-137.