Sticks In the Ground

(This post is a continuation to the post from January 1, 2014) 
...When a rose bush has been pruned it is not much prettier than before the pruning began.  The stems are appropriately trimmed or removed, but it still looks like a bunch of dead branches set in the ground.  Nutrients have been worked into the soil for good systemic growth but blooms and foliage have yet to appear.  Pruning is something a gardener does for a future bloom – a future beauty and harvest.

I noticed as I read through the previous blog that after pruning I skipped straight to the beauty that’s found in the bloom.  Isn't that what we often want to do - skip past what is difficult or unlovely?  However, as I walked back outside and noticed the roses along our front walk, I could not deny the fact that they were still just a few sticks popping up from the ground with no real apparent beauty. They were still dormant and without the welcome of soft blooms, they could still prick an unsuspecting-someone as they walked by.

That is the picture of a pruned heart.  There’s no visible evidence of the work that has been done except for the thorny sticks in the ground.  It’s quiet and unadorned.  At times when others come close our thorny places still impose unexpected pain because we are not yet ready to extend a soft welcome and let them in.  We wait, like the rose…

...Under the ground, where no one can see, there is work being done.  There is a private fellowship with the Trinity where systemically, God is pouring nutrients into the soil of our heart as we let ourselves stay “dormant” and close to Him.  It happens as we place ourself before his word and hold it as a light unto our feet.  It comes alive as we sit silently before him inviting his presence to come near.  It becomes active when we discipline our steps toward his love in and through us.  And it comes tangibly as we let others share the winter with us among the thorns. 

The sight of the sticks in the ground outside of my front door is a visual reminder that just sticks in the ground are OK for a while.  I needn’t hurry the blooms…


How are you, like me, tempted to hurry the blooms?

Where are the thorny places in you that may bring accidental pain?

How are you engaging God's word in the process?

What feels vulnerable as you consider letting others and God in?

How are you letting God and other's in, even when it means being a bit "thorny"?

"Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side. Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain.  Leave to thy God to order and provide: In every change, He faithful will remain.  Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy Heavenly friend...
...Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end."