Many families have a wall calendar or shared app packed with color-coded events. Practices, meetings, school projects, appointments, birthdays, trips. Some squares are so full you can barely read what’s written. But if we scroll or scan a little slower, we might notice what’s often missing: moments intentionally set aside for being with God, for worship, for talking about faith with our kids or spouse. The vineyard of our life is crowded with activity—but where is the fig tree?

In Luke 13, Jesus tells a strange story. A man has a vineyard—prime, carefully tended soil meant for grapes. Yet in the middle of it, he has planted a fig tree. That’s unusual. You don’t waste your best ground on something you don’t expect much from. Planting a fig tree there means: this matters. This should produce something sweet.

But year after year, the owner comes looking for fruit. There’s a tree. There are leaves. It takes up space in the very best land. Yet nothing is actually growing that can feed anyone.

That is a piercing picture of spiritual life in a busy age. God has placed many of us in a “vineyard” of privilege: Bibles in our language, churches nearby, online sermons, Christian books, youth groups for our kids. We are surrounded by spiritual resources. But Jesus does not ask, “How many things are you doing? How much are you exposed to?” He asks, “Is there fruit? Is there love, joy, peace, patience, kindness taking shape in you and your home?”

If we were to rank our priorities, we would probably say our walk with God, and the spiritual well-being of our families, is near the top. But our time and attention sometimes tell a different story. The calendar reveals what we actually believe will keep us safe, successful, or satisfied.

And yet, the parable is not just threat; it is mercy. The owner says, “Cut it down,” but the gardener pleads, “Give it one more year. Let me dig. Let me nourish.” That is Jesus with us. He takes our barrenness seriously, but He also asks for time to work on the roots.

So maybe the question this passage asks is simple and searching: if the Lord walked through the garden of your soul and your family’s life today, what would He find? Leaves and busyness—or fruit that shows we are truly living from His life?