The Vineyard on Elm Street

In 2019, Marcus Coleman bought a neglected lot on Elm Street in Detroit and poured everything into it. He tested the soil, hauled away rocks by hand, built raised beds from reclaimed lumber, and installed a drip irrigation system he'd saved months to afford. He planted thirty heirloom tomato plants — Cherokee Purples, Brandywines, the best varieties he could find. He envisioned a community garden that would feed his neighbors.

He did everything right. The soil was amended. The stakes were set. He was out there every morning before his shift at the Ford plant, checking leaves, pulling weeds, whispering encouragement like a man talking to his children.

Come August, nearly every plant was choked with blight. The fruit that did come was split, bitter, worthless. Marcus stood in that garden with a hose in his hand and wept — not because he'd failed, but because he'd held nothing back and the ground had betrayed his love.

That is the ache in the voice of the Almighty in Isaiah 5. God cleared the stones, planted the choicest vine, built the watchtower, and dug the winepress. He did everything for Israel. And when He came looking for the fruit of justice, He found bloodshed. When He listened for righteousness, He heard only the cries of the oppressed.

The question Isaiah presses on us is not whether God has been faithful. It is whether we are producing the fruit that His extraordinary investment deserves.