trimming twice

When I began the project I knew trimming was essential to both the life of the plant and the overall look of the landscaping. I saw the dysfunction and disorder, but I also received the orders from my dad who, with wisdom of years and experience, seemed to have sound judgment. Therefore, I went after the trees with great zeal, but hopefully tamed enough for growth and prosperity. At times, though, especially when I seemed to be cutting more green branches than dead ones, I thought maybe I’ve gone too far. Let me take a step back. From that vantage point I would usually take one more snip and move on. Less is better, right? Depending on the type and size of the bush, I trimmed accordingly, giving the big ones more thorough pruning than the small, but for the most part I focused the “aesthetically pleasing” goal on the little ones in front.

All went well, but with time and continual pokes and scrapes on my hands despite the gloves, I grew weary. My attitude changed from the Terminator to the Spectator. I looked at the last ones in the row, and seeing them as pretty self-controlled, passed by with a wave and well wishes. It occurred to me at that moment that “trimming the small bushes” did not necessarily mean ALL the bushes had to undergo the dismembering process. Perhaps some were ok as they were. Growth seemed to be inevitable and particularly important for the runts so why mess with them? Plus, I was done with my job, and by solely using the clippers, I only had the discarded branches to clean up.

In the background, the unearthed recesses of my mind, I thought about the way God, the Master Gardener, treats us, his lilies of the field. With each decision and cut I gave thanks that God knows his job better than I did. Here I was with no real system, but not God. He has a plan. His goal is to prosper his children. He’ll pull out the dead parts of our lives for new growth, but won’t cut away at the good, growing parts just willy-nilly. Sometimes I demand explanation for the green branches he snips away from my life, but in season, I see that I’m not only better off without them, but I can grow from the experience and in the new space provided.

I’m also glad that God is not vain. If vanity struck him and he saw my hair in the morning or in the southern humidity, he’d probably have it fall out with a hope that starting over would work out better. He’s not vain for my sake, for sure. Instead, he wants me to look good only as it glorifies him. If wild, curly hair gives him a chance through me to know others with the same predicament, so be it. If my rough contour allows him to connect like-minded sinners together to repent and seek smoother yet still passionate ways of life, may he get the glory.
Just as I looked at the plants before me, God knows that pruning is necessary for us for abundant life. Old sins, habits, and thoughts have to be cut out, forgiven and forgotten. Unlike plants though, we have a choice. While the shrubs might have been crying out for mercy, fighting back with their prickly thorns, in the end I decided when, how, and what branch had to go.

God works according to an interesting paradox: he has all the power but we have the choice. We can learn from his nature, his example as he shows it through other people especially Jesus and his disciples, and from his word in the Bible. Such insight can lead us to prune ourselves. Trees drop their leaves for many scientific reasons, but in a spiritual mindset, they do it to grow another year with renewed strength and new possibility. However, God’s purpose will also be done so our disobedience can feel like a harsher, more arbitrary or unnecessary pruning.
Thankfully, nothing is wasted with God. He made all things good, right, so why would he obliterate what needs to be gone from one life if it can help another? Once the leaves and seeds fall to the ground, they help the growth process in another way. Seeds grow into new plants, dead leaves cover the ground to prevent soil erosion, or they blow around in the yard, enticing neighbors to give some youngster a chance to earn some spending money. So it is true with us. Relationships or physical ailments give us a chance to refocus our values and goals, reinvest in people we love, and most importantly draw nearer to God (with questions and complaints! I mean, humble gratitude.)

I guess while I trimmed the shrubs, I had a similar conversation with God as I did with my dad.

Me: Are you sure this is what you want me to do? I have no idea what I’m doing?

Dad, the Heavenly One: It needs to be done. Give it your best shot. I’m watching and here to help when you need it.