When I think of watermelon, I think of Pollyanna at the Town’s Bazaar. In the 1960 Disney film, she eats the largest slice of watermelon (and cake for that matter) that I have ever seen. For only a penny a slice, you could have the sort of watermelon that dreams are made of.
The perfect watermelon is a precious summer treasure. It hits a hot, parched mouth in a way that few other fruits do — crisp, cool, refreshing, and sweet.
A few summers ago, we had several dud watermelons, so I researched how to choose the perfect watermelon. The secret to picking a sweet watermelon boils down to three things: the shape, a yellow patch, and scratches. The rounder the watermelon the sweeter it is. A yellow patch means it sat on the ground and ripened in the sun for longer. Scratches are evidence of active pollination by bees which makes it sweeter. With this helpful information, my family has mostly avoided disappointing watermelons ever since.
I bought a watermelon last week and promptly hid it on the bottom shelf of the fridge. My kids are at the age now that they can polish off a whole watermelon in one day without breaking a sweat — that’s a little summer pun for you.
As soon as it was in the fridge, I forgot about it.
When I pulled it out a week later, I was sure it would be past its prime. But I was pleasantly surprised to find it was perfectly Pollyanna-esque.
We enjoyed several pieces, and then I stored it in the fridge for friends coming over the next day. Twelve hours later, I pulled it out and was dismayed to find it was already turning. A little softer and grainier, souring rather than sweetening.
Watermelons have an expiration date. They can be a Pollyanna dream one day, and within twelve hours they are mushy and pungent. You can miss the moment and it’s gone.
Last fall I ran into an old friend and said, “You should come over for dinner.” I was sincere at the time but have yet to follow up on it. I have since thought about it several times but mostly when the kids were sick, or we were too busy to add one more thing to the schedule.
At the time, I felt this happenstance meeting was a “God-thing” — a seemingly random meeting that was intentionally initiated by God. I have come to believe that these sorts of encounters are more on purpose than not.
When I was living with chronic illness and without energy to reach out to people, I would just happen to run into the right person at the hardest moments. God always sent someone to encourage me on the days when I received bad news or was on my way in for a dreaded procedure or just when the pain and fatigue was more than I could bear. Over time, I came to believe that the chance meetings were divine help. It has just happened too many times for me to deny it.
And yet, I still have not yet made good on the supper invitation to my friend. It is now July, no supper has been organized, and I am remiss.
But this is why I am thankful God is not like a watermelon.
There is no past its prime, expired, or point of no return with God’s leading in our lives. His offers, his per chance meetings of old friends, his invitations to respond do not go bad if you leave them too long.
As a young child, I always thought that there was one perfect moment for everything to happen, and if you missed it, God would never offer it again.
But God is not a watermelon.
Let me be clear: I am not saying that we should ignore God until it is most convenient for us. God doesn’t want to fit into your schedule but for your life to be interrupted with his goodness and mercy, to be received with joy and gratitude.
It’s easy to find yourself fearing that the divine train car has already left the station. It’s easy to despair and believe that your regrets and failures are the final word for eternity. But the witness of scripture is to a God that is “slow to anger and abounding in love.” The Bible is the story of a God who offers humanity an open-ended invitation to follow him.
The story of the Bible is of a patient God who never reneges on his promises. He is perfectly just but chooses mercy and extends it with gracious abundance. Over several hundred years, he sent prophet after prophet to the Israelites. Finally, he sent them into exile, but even their exile was not as long as the time they had spent disobeying him. In the end, he sent himself because God is gracious and kind.
God is not a watermelon. To him, there’s always more time. To him, it’s never too late. His plans are good, and he is patient. His invitation never sours or turns unlike Pollyanna’s watermelon, which will eventually rot. “Heaven and earth may pass away” Jesus said, “but my word will endure” (Mk 13:31). His is a kingdom that does not rust or decay. Even if it’s been forgotten in the bottom of the refrigerator.
