Weeds

There is something truly satisfying about ripping out a weed from its root. I guess that’s why they say gardening is therapeutic. Extracting the fruitless things so that beautiful things can thrive.

It’s dirty work. That’s how it goes when you’re bringing life out of death. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that this very practical process—tilling soil, planting seeds, pruning dead branches, patiently nurturing each flower, reaping fruit—was a process created by a God who wants us to see and feel the way that it mirrors His work in us. Jesus used so many analogies related to gardening and vinedressing. It’s so powerful to see how intricately orchestrated His purposes are.

A few of my plants didn’t make it through the hot summer. My thumb is the opposite of green (so…red?) therefore I didn’t really know what my dad meant when he said, “the plants will tell you when to water them.” They dried up before they could speak up, I suppose. So as I was plucking out dead branches and roots tonight I couldn’t help but think of the way the concept of pruning has been a continual hum in the back of my head lately. Real-life pruning involves a lot of pain and questions. Cutting back branches that are fruitless means not just letting go of what we were— sometimes it literally feels like having something ripped out from the root of our hearts. The end result is so precious and worth it, but there is often emptiness as we heal from the wound and wait for the fruit. And we rarely even know what that fruit will look like.

I often let my heart get overrun by weeds but the Vinedresser won’t let me stay buried in them.

Nothing and no one else on this earth can do that for us. Nothing else can equal the love that will stop at nothing to pull the death out of our hearts.