Lessons from my Garden
I have found my Garden to be a wonderful place to learn.
Not just about how to grow plants.
I often find myself learning about things of a spiritual nature.
Such as the nature of sin:
My strawberry bed, left unweeded at the end of fall, was overtaken by the cold-tolerant weeds I’d thought were too little to bother with, and which I rationalized might help protect the little strawberries from the cold and wind. As the snow melted this spring, I discovered a vibrant bed of green. But not the green stuff I wanted to grow:
Such is sin.
Too often sin doesn’t really seem that bad. We rationalize that we are strong, that a little foul language here, a little nudity there, a bit of a stimulant to get us up in the morning or get us through the day…these things won’t hurt us. Perhaps we even rationalize that we need them. Then our attention wanders for a time. When we are awakened again and can see our current state, we are overrun, and not even sure we can find ourselves and the values for which we once stood strong. But they are there:
And with a lot of hard work, effort, self-denial, persistance, desire, and faith, we dig in to those poor choices. Exposing them for what they are—weeds trying to entangle us and suffocate our very nature. We suffer pain and sorrow as we dig ourselves out (my hands were bitingly frozen as I hacked at weeds with wet and muddy gloves):
So that the plants can again find nourishment and life in the light of the sun:
Weeds and sins are there, but kept at bay:
And we can feel the love and light of our Redeemer.
