The Pastor’s Piece, Pastor Kevin Cernek, FCFI Chaplain

Fellowship Of Christian Farmers

July 5, 2026

We’ve had an apple tree in our backyard ever since we’ve owned this place. I would estimate it’s at least fifty years old, which is a long life for a fruit tree. I’m not exactly sure what variety it is – perhaps a Jonathan – but every fall it rewards us with large, red apples. After the first frost, they become wonderfully sweet.

For years people have told me that apple trees tend to produce a heavy crop every other year. That was true of this one once, but lately it has been loaded with apples every single season. There was a time however, when I seriously considered cutting it down. It hardly produced any fruit, and each year another branch would die, forcing me to prune it away. One day my wife and I stood looking at the tree, discussing whether it had reached the end of its life. I don’t know if that old tree heard our conversation or what, but ever since then it has produced as though it were working overtime.

One of the things I loved most about that tree was its low-hanging branches. When they became heavy with fruit, they would bend almost to the ground. It made picking apples easy, especially for our little granddaughter, who just turned two. She loves apples. Last fall, whenever she came over, we would carry her out to the backyard. She would point toward the tree and say, “Appo, Guampa, appo.” So Grandma or I would take her over, let her pick an apple, and she would happily munch on it for the longest time.

She was here a couple of weekends ago, and as soon as we stepped into the backyard she began pointing again. “Appo,” she said. She remembered. We explained that the apples weren’t ready just yet. The tree, however, was absolutely loaded.

Every year we peel and freeze as many apples as we can. My wife makes applesauce and cans enough to fill our pantry shelves. We slice and freeze more for winter pies. Then we box up the rest and take them to church in the back of my truck. I drop the tailgate and tell everyone they are welcome to take all they want, but when they’re gone, they’re gone.

It usually takes several trips to get them all picked. Our ladder reaches almost to the top of the tree. For the highest apples, I back the truck underneath, put the stepladder in the bed, and climb high enough to reach every last piece of delicious fruit. Sometimes we even stand among the sturdy limbs and stretch as far as we can so that not a single apple is left behind. The biggest, shiny-est apples always grow near the top, where they soak up the sunshine every day.

It’s a labor of love because we enjoy sharing the harvest. It’s also a labor of necessity. We simply hate seeing good apples fall to the ground and rot. We’ve never sprayed that tree for insects, and we’ve never had worms. Those apples have always been as organic as they come.

This year was no exception. Every branch was heavy with fruit. Each time I picked apples, I found myself marveling that God could cause something so beautiful and delicious to grow out from a twif. Yet year after year, He does exactly that.

Then came last Sunday.

As we were leaving church to head home, a storm blew through. A small whirlwind lasted no more than thirty seconds. It never even rained. On the drive home we noticed a few branches down in other people’s yards, but we weren’t concerned.

Until we pulled into our own driveway.

There lay our beloved apple tree.

The whirlwind had caught it and snapped it off about four feet above the ground. It lay flat, stretched across the yard. I was genuinely sad. That old tree had become part of our family. Scattered all around it were hundreds of little apples that had blown off before the tree itself gave way.

I went to work cleaning up what had suddenly become a mess. I wrapped a log chain around the trunk, hooked the other end to the tractor drawbar, and dragged the tree to the burn pile where it now lies with its little apples still clinging to the branches. Then I took the chainsaw and cut the stump as close to the ground as I could so I’ll be able to mow over it. After raking the area smooth and filling the divots with fresh dirt, I went into the house.

Another chapter of our family’s history had come to an end.

We still have one apple tree standing, though it too is beginning to show its age. It may not be many years behind the first one.

I suppose it’s time to plant some more apple trees.

After all, that’s the way God designed His creation from the very beginning:

“And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so,” (Genesis 1:11).

The story isn’t just about an apple tree; it’s about God’s faithfulness through the generations. The old tree is gone, but because God created fruit “whose seed is in itself,” there is hope for the next generation of trees – and perhaps one day our granddaughter will be picking apples from a tree we plant this year.  

Kevin Cernek is Lead Pastor of Martintown Community Church in Martintown, Wisconsin.