I recently spent about an hour of my much-coveted "nap time" outside pulling weeds in our front flower bed. Before I go any further, I must confess no claim to said flowers; they were planted by our house's previous owner. As I have mentioned previously on this blog, I kill plants and therefore seldom bother with them. In fact, the only green things I've had any luck with are weeds. I only seek to rid our front flower bed of the beasts because they're visible from the street, while our weed garden out back is rather robust - nearly as tall as I am. Impressive, eh?
We have this aggressive vine that seems to weave its way through our lawn, cross the threshold of stones that line our flower beds and spring up through our intentionally-planted shrubs and flowers. I haven't a clue what it's called, but I can tell you it's a thin vine that resists a stern tug as if it were anchored to one of the inner rings of hell. And it's not just in a few spots, rather it's laced throughout the entire bed, a web of thick roots hiding just beneath the surface of mulch and dirt. Aiming to starve the vine of sunlight and kill it, my husband put down a liner last year, but we've discovered this year the vine has a much stronger will to live than we had figured. I pulled up sections of the liner to reveal a blanket of the only slightly discolored vine. Ugh. I pulled out as much as I could, all the while muttering, "wicked, wicked weed."
It didn't take long before my weed-pulling became merely a cosmetic endeavor, being that there was no way I could destroy what has become my seasonal nemesis. Minutes seem like hours in 95-degree weather, so while I was wildly grabbing handfuls of errant plants it became difficult to rip out the invader and leave what was lovely.
Anyone who has ever had a yard can tell you that unless you get down to the root of a weed, you can expect to see it sprout right back up. In our case, this seems to happen within a few short days. So every time I walk out to my mail box, I try not to glance at our landscaping, somehow sensing there will be another crop of vines waving at me through my lilies. Truly, they mock me.
Still, as I tend to my all-but-overtaken flower bed my thoughts turn to how God lovingly tends to His children, ridding us over time of the weeds of sin and damage from the world that can mar our beauty and stunt our growth. What we do to "fix" ourselves is largely cosmetic. We can read every self-help book, put on a happy face and pour ourselves into any number of worthy acts of service, but unless we get to the root of our issues we don't see lasting change. And at the root there's always a chasm between us and God caused by sin. Maybe we don't fully trust Him. Maybe it's pride.
Over the years God has revealed many ugly weeds that have grown up around my heart - perfectionism and a critical spirit to name two. Some of them were sown by my environment, others became defense mechanisms after being hurt by people I loved. Regardless, they've flourished within me because of sin. My fear is that all those ways I stumble will distract the rest of the world from what God is doing in me.
So I found myself praying, "Lord, I need you to get to the root of my flaws. Pull everything that isn't beautiful, rid me of everything that doesn't reflect Christ."
While I'd love to wake up one of these mornings and find those flaws gone, I know the Lord will spend my lifetime working on my heart. And that's OK because in the process I get the pleasure of walking alongside Him, getting to know Him better and learning to trust Him more.
Maybe when I look out over my weed garden I shouldn't ponder so hard about my nuclear option - cementing the lawn - and instead think of all the work the Lord is doing in my heart. I'll go grab my gloves and weed with Him.
