The Pain and Reward of Pruning My Heart

Written March 22, 2009

Gardening is such a spiritual thing for me... at least for the first hour or so. Then I become cranky and sweaty and very nonspiritual.

Today I woke up to gorgeous Spring morning.  As I sipped my morning tea, I stared out my sliding glass door at my post-winter backyard.  The Spring rains were causing some beautiful new growth that was smothered by some leftover Fall debris.  The yard was definitely in need of some TLC.  I had other indoor projects to do but headed outside anyway, promising myself that I'd only spend 30 minutes picking up soggy leaves.  

The leaves didn't take long so I turned my attention to some nearby weeds.  After warring with weeds for a bit (I mostly won), I took a breather and began studying the shrubs and bushes in the yard.  

photo: pixabay

We have several different varieties of shrubberies that were planted long before we owned our home.  In fact, the various landscaping elements contributed to our love for the house, which is why we purchased it, but we didn't know anything about this type of landscaping. I'm overly busy chasing my three boys around, helping in their school, and volunteering my time elsewhere in our community so my shrubs tend to be neglected.  I just don't care.   

One particular shrub/tree thingy was within a couple feet of me and I hadn't noticed him until that very moment.  He was wild and rangy with long wispy branches swinging at me in the breeze.  I felt that he was being a bit defiant which didn't sit well with me. 
There are many things I tolerate. Being taunted by an undisciplined shrub isn't one of them.  My 30 minute yard tidy had just taken an unexpected turn.

Without taking my eyes off the beast, I called to Riece.  "Honey will you bring me the big garden chopper things, please?"  My brilliant eight year old knew exactly what I meant. He disappeared into the garage and a few moments later returned with large pruners. 

As I made the first snip, Cliff called out to me from his open office window.  "Do you even know what you are doing?!?"  I responded with a loud and sassy "No!" Apparently this stand-off created quite a stir. Suddenly all three of my boys were running around nearby.  The dogs and cat even came outside.  


I began snipping.  The boys waited for branches to fall so they could all have swords, of course.  Cliff kept peeking out his window as our large black cat, Spaz, who acts more like a dog, supervised from a few yards away.  

And since this was a family affair, my vicious guard dog, a hyper Yorkie named Ginger, was by my feet ready to protect me from I don't know what.



I started trimming the branches that receive the most sun exposure.  The branches were green, big, and abundant albeit out of control. I worked my way to the shaded side where I noticed some speckled and brown leaves.  

I quickly lopped off branches with sick leaves. I worked my way into the middle of the shrub and found even more disease. I paused for a moment, stepped away from the shrub, and saw diseased branches everywhere! How had I not noticed this before?  Oh, yeah - I didn't care before.

photo: pixabay

I snipped like a fiend.

I began to get spiritual again as I dug into the disease, grateful that God loves me so much that he continuously addresses the diseases that attack my heart.  I'll fully admit that keeping my heart healthy is a big job.  It's a God-sized job and I'm grateful he's the one with the gracious pruners.

My contribution to the heart pruning process is to simply allow it. God graciously allows exposure of the disease and offers peace, forgiveness, and healing in it's place.  I get to choose whether or not my heart is healthy by acknowledging the disease and letting it go or I can hold onto my disease, regardless of the consequences.  

Pruning is painful.  It's painful to forgive when the other person doesn't deserve it.  It's painful to love the unlovable.  It's painful to bite my tongue when my pride has been stepped on.  It's painful to set my own agenda aside.  It's painful to release unhealthy emotional or mental habits like worry, anxiety, obsession, fear, doubt, laziness, and lust.   The pain associated with pruning these diseases is horrible at the time but results in a much healthier and more beautiful heart.  

And honestly, I've watched disease damage and destroy relationships.  I've watched disease abuse spouses and children.  I've watched disease transform a good thing into an addiction.  I've watched disease change a loving person into an unforgiving bitter, hard, and cold person. Disease doesn't care what damage it does.  In fact, it's job is to infect as many aspects of a person's heart as possible - to turn beauty and health into decay and rot.  I don't want a heart like that.

My backyard seemed happier after my garbage can filling encounter with the diseased and defiant shrub. But the cost was steep - the shrub now held less than half of the branches it had before. It looked a bit naked.  But new branches will grow and the new branches will be beautiful and healthy.

Here's the tricky thing about pruning - it's an ongoing process in both our hearts and our yards as both are susceptible to drought.  Both are susceptible to the spread of disease.  Both grow rangy and wild without regular pruning.  Both desire their own way and prefer to be left alone.

But the avoidance of pruning is

 the avoidance of genuine beauty.