It was the hottest day of the year in St. Louis, Missouri. The sun’s rays beamed strong as my knees pressed into the soft dirt, surrounded by a jungle of plants and trees. My youth group and I were doing mission work by helping the community, and we were spread out all over the city. Some were playing with children at a daycare, others were evangelizing downtown, and a few of us were spreading mulch at a park. And there I was, with the gardener.
She was a sweet, elderly woman, dressed in pastel clothes with a big straw hat, shielding her eyes from the sun’s intensity. She was the definition of a gardener and it made me grin. I followed her closely as she instructed me in ways to help clean and tend to the garden that was so special to her. I smiled, watching her passion for the growth around her and the pride that was so evident, speaking about the care she was giving this part of the earth as if it were her very own child. I listened as she told me about her life, how long she had been a gardener here at the park, and anything else that came to her mind.
“See those honey suckles over there?” she asked as we both stood up after covering a section of the ground with mulch. I looked to where her finger pointed, amazed at the beauty of the golden, yellow color I had always loved.
“I want us to uproot those next,” she continued.
I stood there, hands on my hips as the sun beat down, confused. Uproot the honey suckles? I thought. She started walking over to the beautiful colors, slowly easing herself down to the earth as she brushed the hair out of her face with her sleeve. I joined her without questioning, yet inside it did not feel right. My fingers dug into the dirt and I grasped the root of one, hesitating for a second, then with a deep breath, I pulled it out of the ground, feeling the snapping separation of its connection to the earth. In silence, I felt a heaviness, ripping out one of my favorite plants, and piling them to be discarded to the side.
“Why do we have to take these out?” I finally asked, squinting at her through the sun’s rays, “They look so pretty.”
She grinned, looking up at me, “They are pretty, aren’t they?”
I nodded with a grin, hoping she didn’t think I doubted her knowledge of the garden.
“You see, even though they look pretty, they are actually becoming weeds. They are spreading quickly and if we do nothing about it, they will soon overtake the whole garden, killing our healthy plants and flowers that we want to flourish.”
I stopped for a moment as the realization hit. Something inside of me accepted those words in a much deeper way. I looked back down at my fingers, ripping up the vines and I thought about feelings and emotions that I had been wrestling with for some time. In that season of my life, I was walking through a time where surrender, letting go, and trusting the Lord had to become as natural as breathing. Before that summer, I hadn’t understood the depth of trusting the Lord with ALL my heart, even when life hurt very deeply.
I thought back on the past few months I had walked through as I pulled the weeds and, with each vine I ripped out, I was reminded of the familiar pain in my own life. It felt so personal. The feeling of loss. The hurt and pain of what you wanted but the door slammed shut. Things you were expecting with excitement but it only took from you, leaving you hurt and confused. A tsunami of questions that seemed to never stop banging at your head, keeping you up at night and making you feel the blame. If only the garden could talk in that moment, I am sure it would express the pain, the confusion, the frustration, and the bitterness of having this amount of connection being cut, ripped out, and tossed away. I know at least that was how I was feeling deep down.
The gardener continued, “After we get all this out and cleaned up, I will go back through and plant new seeds so healthy flowers can grow.”
Her words made my heart jump and I felt the Lord give me peace and comfort in that moment. My eyes began to tear up as the past pain started to make sense to me in a new way. Not knowing if she personally knew the Lord, I knew this was the time to share my faith with her. I opened up to this woman I had just met and compared the heart she had for the garden to the heart of the Father, speaking words that I needed to be reminded of myself. The beauty of pruning. I was overwhelmed with peace as we talked through how God sees the whole picture of our life. He is in every detail, and in the process of feeling the pain of loss, the pain of pruning, and the confusion that comes with that, we can trust Him fully.
I intimately felt the love and care of God in that moment. He knows what is best for us and, in love and with gentle hands, He cares for us, guides us, directs us, and, even in the pain and pruning, He loves us so deeply. It never is out of a heart of enjoyment that He watches us suffer. In our pain, He desires to be close to us in the heartache and brokenness. We can fully trust His gentle hands.
Once the plants were uprooted, the garden looked so empty. If it could talk, I am sure it would cry out in pain, questioning the emptiness and loneliness, grieving what had been there before. That is what I had been feeling for so long. When this happens in life, we too may feel empty and lonely at the unfamiliar sight around us. Maybe we do come to realize how unhealthy our garden has become but all we can feel afterwards is the punch of the loss and the “what now?”
This time after the pruning can tempt us to dwell in a hopeless and discouraging mindset. It can be easy to begin missing the “old weeds,” to miss what had been there before, even if it was draining the life from us. Yet, what we don’t see are the seeds that the Good Gardener has prepared in His hand, in His timing, to make us stronger and to bless us. I stood there with dirt caked on my knees, and I mustered up an honest and broken prayer to the Lord.
Father, help me to embrace this time of pruning in my life… help me to trust Your heart for me and know You are always good, even when it hurts and even when I don’t understand…
Years have passed since that hot day in Saint Louis, Missouri, and I smile, witnessing how my Gardener has worked so intentionally, lovingly, and patiently in me. Sometimes I don’t realize how sweet pruning is until the new seeds replace what was there before and are thriving. Looking back, there was not a day, not an hour, not a moment when the Lord left and told me to navigate it on my own. Not once did He leave me in my pain and confusion. Not once.
Reflecting on those difficult times, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Being pruned by the Lord is precious. A gift. It was there, in that moment, in that season of life, when it all made sense to me. God truly knows what is best for us. He knows what will grow us and what will destroy us, yet we so often will continue to water, nurture, and maintain the growth of “weeds” in our life, thinking we know better. This could be hidden idols, unhealthy patterns, bad habits, pushing boundaries, addictions, seeking control, toxic relationships, or dwelling on our fears, anxieties, and insecurities. We continue these patterns because we are scared of them being ripped away. In this process, we can harden our hearts and pride begins to take over.
It can be so easy to water our fear, insecurity, and pride because we are afraid of the emptiness we think will take its place. We pour out time, money, and energy to things that are only draining us and taking up space in our garden when the Gardener is asking us to surrender. He so lovingly prunes and is with us in the seasons of loss. We must realize that the prolonging of the weeds’ growth in our life is only hindering our path to healthy thriving, pushing away the opportunity for what is to come. These weeds can block out the beauty of a refreshing and full life that could fill every space around us.
Stop watering the weeds.
Sometimes the weeds we water are past pain, bitterness, and hurt that we can’t let go of. Guilt, shame, and regret can sink its way into our minds, soon planting roots deep into our hearts, and we allow it. Praise the Lord that He is eager to cleanse our sins (Psalm 86:5 ). His hand is outstretched, His good, loving, gentle, and merciful hand, wanting to heal, comfort, and deepen our hearts. The Lord wants to be our refuge, strength, and helper. He desires to lead and guide us. He desires to sit with you in this season of loss. To listen, to catch your tears and comfort your heart. You will never have to walk through a season alone.
He is doing a new thing. Focus on the flowers. Abide in Him. Stay close and connected to Him. Embrace the pruning. I have seen how the enemy schemes and snickers at the sight of us being held back and weighed down by guilt, lies, and shame. He wants us to feel defeated, stuck, and hopeless. Do not allow those thoughts to dwell in the garden of your mind, to take root deep in your heart.
I love how David says in Psalm 19:12-13, “How can I know all the sins lurking in my heart? Cleanse me from these hidden faults. Keep Your servant from deliberate sins! Don’t let them control me. Then I will be free of guilt and innocent of great sin.”
Just like a predator in the dark, we can so easily miss the enemy’s sneaky attack if we are distracted. Where are your eyes fixed? Are you allowing your garden to become overcrowded with the weeds of the world?
Friend, can I encourage you?
There is no peace, joy, or satisfaction in a life of bondage. There is no freedom in a cycle of shame and a lifestyle of covering up and hiding. Do not nurture and maintain the soil of unhealthy plants. Even if you feel like you have wasted your time and energy, and you believe the lie that it is too late, I want to remind you of the good news of the gospel. The Lord so deeply wants to cleanse you. How sweet is it that He desires to comfort you again and again even when you pursue the sins that only hurt you? With Him, nothing is wasted, and He can always redeem and restore. Your garden is never too messy for the footsteps of the Savior to enter in, to kneel by your side and catch your tears, to lovingly remove the darkness, dirt, and sin, to gently place His nail-pierced hands on your heart to heal, to sit and talk with you, to listen, to smile and to whisper, “Child, there is more…”
There is so much more to come.
There is abundant life in Christ.
Do not settle on what you may have accepted around you.
I encourage you to sit with the good Gardener and ask the vulnerable and exposing questions to grow in intimacy with the Father. Do not be afraid. He is so very kind.
What are the “weeds” in your life that you are watering?
What are you afraid to let go of? And why?
What are the flowers and “healthy plants” He has placed in your life that you will intentionally pour out to, focus on, and allow to be watered for a healthy and full life?
Now I stand in my new garden and I see flowers blossoming and plants growing that hadn’t been there before. I see something refreshing and life-giving and I smile as I reflect on the goodness of the Gardner and His desire for us to grow in holiness. He loves us too much to allow us to stay where we are. Even in the sharp blade of the cutting away, His steady surgeon-like hand pours goodness and love.
Allow Him to till and soften your soil. Surrender the fight. Embrace the pruning. Even when it hurts and feels uncomfortable and lonely. He wants to be your strength, refuge, and help. He desires to lead, guide, and refresh you. He wants to see your garden flourish and blossom for your good and for His glory. Fix your eyes on His face and abide in Him.
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