Yesterday’s Sunday sermon was about the scene where Jesus curses the fig tree that bore no fruit. The disciples were puzzled and asked why He cursed the innocent tree, causing it to wither and die, when it was not yet the season for bearing fruit. This is a passage difficult to understand superficially. ‘Was it really necessary to make the tree wither and die?’, ‘Was bearing no fruit really such a grave offense?’ If we interpret the fig tree as representing the Israelite people, and ‘bearing no fruit’ as symbolizing religious figures like the Pharisees who valued outward appearances over substance, it becomes somewhat clearer. Especially considering this occurred just one week before His crucifixion, it seems He might have felt this issue with even greater emotional intensity. Though He knew His own destiny, perhaps His lament and human anguish—knowing that someone must ultimately pay the price for sin due to Israel’s repeated transgressions—was expressed toward the fruitless tree. Anyone in such a situation would have wanted to pour out their heart somewhere, and the tree became that outlet.

Last weekend, I drove a long way to Yeosu for a moving job. My family worries about long-distance driving, but to me, accustomed to driving 100km daily on ‘American scale,’ Yeosu felt close—less than half the distance from LA to San Francisco. Driving my electric truck from Gangnam Yeoksam-dong, I informed the customer beforehand that the range after a full charge was 250km, requiring a mid-trip recharge. It was the second weekend after social distancing restrictions eased to Level 1, so the weather was fantastic, but the highway was like a parking lot all the way to Cheonan. Hoping the bill allowing electric vehicles to use bus-only lanes would pass soon, I drove on, thinking I’d arrive without issue. But around Suncheon, the battery hit rock bottom. I tried charging at a rest stop I’d searched for beforehand, but it kept showing errors. Apologizing to the passenger and feeling flustered, they calmly suggested calling the information center. Upon checking, we found the station had already been reported as malfunctioning, and its sole charger was dead. We hurried into Suncheon city.

However, the battery had already dropped below the threshold, weakening the output. As we approached the tunnel entrance, the car moved as if it might stop completely. Judging that stalling mid-tunnel could lead to a major accident, I pulled over before the entrance, called for emergency assistance, and experienced the ordeal of being towed to a charging station in downtown Suncheon. After all the twists and turns, we arrived in Yeosu and unloaded the luggage – it was already evening. After fully charging at the Yi Sun-sin Plaza charging station to return to Incheon, it was already past 9 PM. Worried about drowsy driving, I decided to head up to Jeonju for a short rest. Arriving at midnight, I was in no condition to drive, so I ended the day at a 24-hour jjimjilbang. Having been awake for over 20 hours from Saturday dawn to Sunday dawn, it was only natural that sleep was overwhelming me.

The bigger problem erupted Sunday morning. My mother, who was watching the baby at home, was extremely worried. My wife, who was traveling in Namhae, was shocked to learn I’d gone on a delivery trip to the provinces. The root of the trouble was that my mother, who needed to go to church early Sunday morning, had left the youngest baby with the older kids for a bit with my consent. Hearing this, my wife panicked. Even the friend she was traveling with joined in with ominous imaginings, plunging the situation into chaos. Recent tragic accidents in the news seemed to have made everyone more sensitive. In reality, the kids were just sleeping in late on a weekend morning.

I rushed back starting at 5 a.m., only to find no fast chargers on the northbound lanes—Murphy’s Law striking again. I ended up charging in Nonsan and Gongju before arriving home, where my mother and youngest brother were watching the kids. I’d cut back on sleep and done my best, but the schedule was unrealistic from the start. Ultimately, it became a weekend that caused my mother and wife major inconvenience. Facing my wife and friend’s sharp criticism that I’d ruined the trip, I suddenly felt like a criminal. Reflecting on the Sunday sermon, I realized I was the very religious person described—all shiny leaves and no fruit. It was disheartening to think that despite my efforts, I might only be causing worry and harm to those around me, leaving behind bitter fruit instead of sweet. Faced with the realization, “I was that fig tree,” all my efforts felt like mere excuses. Now, I resolve to pray and strive harder to bear good fruit, even if it’s only a little.

Early the next morning, as Jesus entered the city, He was hungry. Seeing a fig tree by the roadside, He approached it but found only leaves, no fruit. Jesus said to the tree, “You will never bear fruit again!” Immediately the tree withered. His disciples, seeing this, were astonished and asked, “How did the fig tree wither so suddenly?” Jesus answered them, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt, you can do what was done to the fig tree. In fact, you can say to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and it will be done.

Matthew 21:18–21