Napa Valley on Leadership

by Margaret Feinberg

The loss of the vineyard is a sign of judgment; fruitfulness is a sign of God’s restoration, redemption, promise, and blessing. God makes it clear that one of his blessings is that his people should enjoy the fruit of the vine both in eating and drinking. Grape juice naturally ferments to produce wine. While the Scripture clearly forbids drunkenness (Ephesians 5:17-18), the fruit of the vine remained a promised source of enjoyment for God’s people (Amos 9:14).

Alongside these clear warnings to stay away from drunkenness, the Bible draws on the image of the vineyard as a source of provision and blessing, a reminder that admonitions against over-enjoyment don’t prohibit proper, God-ordained enjoyment. When Jacob blesses his two sons, Judah and Joseph, he describes Judah as tying his donkey to the best branches of a vine and having his robes washed in wine. Meanwhile, Joseph is described as a “fruitful vine.” This particular description is intriguing, because a vine was also part of the dream that the chief cupbearer had which Joseph interpreted (Genesis 40:8-14).

In the New Testament, the vineyard becomes a representation of the kingdom of God. Jesus weaves vineyards and vines into his stories. In one of his most well-known teachings, he describes himself as a vine, inviting us to remain in him in order to produce fruit. Jesus also uses the fruit of the vine on the evening of his arrest as part of the final meal that his followers are told to repeat in remembrance of him.

My time with the vintners explored these and other passages, and their insights still reverberate inside my soul. Here are four lessons I learned from the vintners that I never want to forget.

LESSON ONE: RESPOND TO WHERE YOU’VE BEEN PLANTED

Scouting the Divine focuses on my time with a vintner in Napa Valley, but I also spent time with a vintner in Fresno, California. These two vinters’ techniques and purposes of growing grapes couldn’t be more different. The grape grower in Fresno cultivated thousands of acres of grapes. His vineyard stretched across the landscape in all directions. Each vine stood thick and sturdy, boasting huge, vibrant canopies of dark emerald leaves. Bundles of grapes abounded underneath in what seemed like biblical proportions—often weighing ten pounds or more.

Many of these grapes dried in the hot California sun in order to become raisins for Sunmaid. Others were squished into grape juice for companies like Welch’s. Still others were cultivated for large-scale wineries like Gallo.

As we walked and drove around the farmland, we took time to examine the large, expensive machinery and irrigation systems used to prune the vines as well as water and fertilize the soil. Though the harvest still depended on manual labor, much of the care of the vines had become automated.

As we explored the vineyards, I was encouraged to taste the various grapes—Thompson, ruby red, and globe. Right off the vine, these grapes bursted with a candy-like sweetness, the kind of sugary wonderment you taste when licking a lollipop. I had never had grapes as fresh, delicious, or addictive. I found myself nibbling the fruit of countless vines. I also noticed cuts had been made creating a circular scarring pattern at the base of each vine.

Our host vintner explained that this process is called girdling. In Fresno, the goal for the grape grower is maximum production on every vine. Each year, a worker will go out with a knife and cut a ring around the bottom of the vine. The process tricks the vine into thinking it’s going to die, so the vine overproduces and yields a bountiful harvest.

My experience in Napa Valley was much different from my time in Fresno. In Napa, the vintner I spent time with only worked with boutique vineyards. Rather than being responsible for ten thousand acres, he was caring for a mere half to three quarters of acre per vineyard. He didn’t girdle the vines. He wasn’t interested in maximum productivity. He was interested in the character and the flavor of each grape.

In his vineyard, almost everything except irrigation was done by hand. The vintner touched every cluster of grapes two to three times during the growing season. He pruned each vine by hand to ensure each bunch of grapes received just the right amount of sunlight.

Both men were passionate about growing grapes. Both were great at growing grapes. Yet their focus and their techniques couldn’t be more different.

Why do I share this experience with you? Like viticulture, caring for God’s people and shaping culture in a meaningful way is a labor of love. And each leader’s labor of love will be very different, but no less important to God’s work.

What kind of vineyard has God called you to cultivate? Are you in an area like Fresno, where you will cultivate thousands and thousands of acres where the fruitfulness will be overwhelming at times? Or have you been placed in an area like Napa Valley, where your acreage is limited, but the character and distinctiveness of your work are unmistakable?

I have friends who pastor churches with tens of thousands of members around the world (thanks to satellite campuses). They’re fulfilling their calling of caring for many, and their impact is significant. I have other friends who have been entrusted with congregations of a mere 50, 100, or 300 people. Their congregations are tiny in comparison, but their impact is no less significant. I spoke to one church leader in the rural Midwest whose congregation is only 30 people, yet they managed to serve more than 10,000 meals to those in need in their area.

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