Dear Daughters,
The trees in the garden are empty, bare and seemingly lifeless. Just a few months ago we had people coming to fill their bags with fruit – cherries, plums, apples and pears. Now the trees are just skeletons of what was, a faint remembrance of the harvest, and a looking forward to the green coming in the spring.
Today Ralph the tree trimmer came around, he who prunes the trees every winter so the harvest can again be plentiful. I watch him loping, stripping and cutting – it seems so brutal to hack off branches – as he literally removes yards of excess growth, shaping and sculpting each tree.
Last spring Grandpa had a guy come to look at his rose garden because the bushes seemed to be waning. He told us,
Just cut ‘em back, you can never prune too much,
as he hacked away at those bushes. Not being much of a gardener myself, I was appalled at how swift and dogmatic he was about his work. But in spite of my surprise at his apparently careless ways, the roses came back more beautiful than ever.
Grandpa grows gorgeous grapes as well. The vines are old, gnarled and ugly. Every spring he cuts back all the flowing vines from the previous year and they look hopelessly stunted. Yet just six months later they produce several hundred pounds of luscious grapes.
There’s an inner life of all trees, roses and grapes called the sap, the lifeblood of all. During the winter the sap does not go into the roots but continues to live in the branches, it simply stops flowing for a season. So, when we see those outwardly dead-looking-yet living plants in the winter, they are simply resting, waiting again for their season to bear fruit.
Although there seems to be a harshness to pruning, it really is an act of kindness, care and concern. You have probably observed overgrown, dense and untidy bushes and trees which haven’t been tended, some with broken off branches and generally looking unkempt, wild and unruly. The trees are not attractive, nor do they bear much fruit.
So, I was reading the other day about how God prunes us. I love the imagery, of Jesus being the vine and we the branches attached and connected to Him. God cuts off the dead branches and throws them out, he prunes them simply because he loves and cares for us. It may feel mean and uncaring, but because he is an excellent gardener his actions are totally out of love – a love we sometimes don’t understand. Jesus said that if we abide in and stay connected to Him, we will bear much fruit, for apart from Him we can do nothing.
I remember decades ago when I read that verse thinking I can do plenty without him. I can vacuum the floors, take a walk, balance my checkbook and I don’t need his help with any of that. Then suddenly I was struck with the thought
I can’t even take a breath without You.
How stunningly arrogant to think I can live in my own power, keeping my own body alive and functioning. He is the author of life, and my entire existence is dependent upon Him.
Anyway, back to the pruning. As I was considering how God prunes us to become more like him, I came upon a beautiful quote by Bob Goff.
God isn’t always leading us to the safest route forward,
but to the one where we’ll grow the most.
If we want to grow well, we must be willing to be pruned well. Pruning can look a lot like difficult circumstances coming into our lives. You know those times that are annoying, disrupting, and unexpected – not what we signed up for? Those people who are annoying, uninvited, and rough around the edges? These are the times he is pruning us, drawing us to Himself, encouraging us to let Him live through us, depending on His strength and not our own. This life is simply too hard to go it alone.
The fruit of the Holy Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control. Logically, fruit grows naturally and without effort with sunshine and water, right? I’ve never seen grapevines strive to grow, apple trees groan as they try hard to produce fruit. They just grow if they are connected to the life blood of the tree – the sap.
Consider the lilies of the field, says Jesus. They do not labor or spin,
yet not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.
Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
When you look at apple trees, grape vines or rose bushes you will never see them strain, worry or fret about bearing flowers or fruit, they just abide in the vine. How simple and beautiful.
So how do we abide in the vine? We invite Jesus to love when we cannot, forgive when it hurts too much, allow His kindness to reach out to those who are difficult to care for. I know that in my own strength I cannot love well, but when I am weak, He is strong. And, I might add, I am weak most of the time – but it’s ok because I don’t have to do it all. I can rest in Him and let His lifeblood flow through me.
You know that the only way to become stronger physically is to work out – lift weights, walk, do pull-ups, push-ups, and all those other tried and true exercises. And obviously the heavier the weights the stronger the muscles become. We don’t get strong by lifting feathers. So too, the way we bear fruit is by loving the hard to love, learning to be patient when we’d rather lash out, being gentle to the brash.
Somedays I fail, somedays you fail. We all have those winter times when we don’t see much growth in ourselves. But as Sara Hagerty says:
The tree prospers in winter, fulfilling its God-intended purpose.
Though, to the unknowing eye, it sure looks barren.
Jesus is the Master Gardener and He does all things well. Keep on abiding in the vine; springtime will come, and you will bear much fruit.
Love, Mom
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