And the pretty things you plant are only pretty for a short amount of time before fall and winter claim them.
This is not to say that I don’t garden. I try my best to do so because my lady neighbor seems to appreciate it when I nearly kill myself out there in the heat trying like hell to tame the jungle that Indiana provides. Mulberry bushes! Oh, how I hate you! And you cute little birds that find nutrition and substance by eating their fruit and then sit along the edge of the house and poop…giving me new sprouts of mulberry bushes! Oh, how I hate you!
But here’s the thing:
Life is like gardening. We are all growing, right?
One time, a darling lady posted a devotional blog post about how sin is like the weeds in the garden and we have to careful and diligently pull them out to keep the weeks from choking out the life of the pretty flowers.
I want to be the weeds! I want to be the weed that grows rampant and violently—evasive and determined to take over and own the space. I want to grow wild and tall and vine up and down everything around me. I want to survive and grow stronger and stronger until it takes massive doses of poison to kill me because my roots are so deep and powerful.
Did I just scare you? Sounds scary, right?
Yet, the weeds were the natural things that grew in that soil before someone came along and ripped them out and planted something they thought was more beautiful there—something that is only temporary and cannot survive the test of time. As soon as that person disappears and fails to protect the delicate flowers from the weeds, they shrivel up and die as the natural things return and reclaim their land.
Now, I realize someone out there might come along and read this and twist it around so that it appears that I am saying sin is natural and I want to be sin and take over the world.
That. Is. Not. What. I. Am. Saying.
I am saying that I want to be something real and true that lasts. I want to be something that keeps growing and growing beyond what society thinks is pretty—beyond something what society thinks is acceptable. I want to serve a Father that is real and true and not one painted up pretty and served from a flowery pulpit. I want to be the kind of Christian that can walk through the fire and grief and pain and learn to walk with others through their fire, their grief, and their pain. I want the real, natural things of God. Not the pretty flower
So if I am going to be a plant that takes over and grows with insane power, I suppose I will be something like poison sumac. At least that way you will think twice before trying to get rid of me…
And you will need all the protective gear in order to rip me out.
That’s what I will be.