Many are the lessons to be learned from a day spent working in ones own backyard. When Iris and I moved to Macon three years ago we inherited a nearly 100 year old English garden in ours. The backyard was one of the features that we really loved about our home, and early after we moved in we made the decision to steward the garden as much as possible, not making many major changes to the landscape, after all, some the plants in our back garden date back to specimens collected abroad at the turn of the century.
Best intentions can sometimes turn into our own downfall, and after allowing our back garden to grow for the past three years, with very little cutting back or heavy pruning, we now have several issues that require our serious attention. This past weekend I decided (on a whim) to tackle a problematic shrub that was beginning to threaten a Tulip Poplar, as well as overtaking the garden wall. What I anticipated would be a quick project, turned into an entire afternoon of blood, sweat and lessons learned.
The shrub in question was/is called Eleagnus pungens, commonly known as ‘thorny olive’ or Silverthorn, and it has a nasty habit of sending up new shoots each season, growing up to four feet a year. These vining shoots eventually droop over, and the leaves invert, creating a hanging thorny web of foliage which begins to choke out everything around it. As I was tearing this pernicious shrub out of our backyard, I couldn’t help but reflect on the parallels between it, and the sin that we allow to take root in our lives.
Commonly planted in the south east United Stated as an ornamental, Silverthorn can spread prolifically as birds consume the small drupe fruit it produces and the seeds behind in their waste. Thus it was that this invasive shrub came to be in my backyard, borne in filth and excrement. When we first moved into our home, I believed it was fairly benign, and gave it little thought, as we were determined to preserve the garden as it was when we moved in. As time went by through the seasons, it grew quickly, bit I still was not too concerned, as it seemed to provide great shade and cover between our backyard and our neighbors. By the time I realized how problematic it had become, it was almost too late. The vining growths had reached well over twenty into the tulip poplar it was growing next to, and as I struggled to pull its branches out, they snarled together, forming an impenetrable mass and causing significant damage to the surrounding vegetation.
As I mentioned, I could not help but reflect on the similarities between rooting out this backyard invader and our sin struggle as Christians. Like our sin, this shrub was carried into my yard in filth. Once it took root, I was okay with having it in my yard, for a while. In fact, I was able to come up with several excuses as to why I didn’t need to deal with it, and I convinced myself, if only for a season that it was actually a ‘good thing’. So often, we can excuse sin in our lives the same way, telling ourselves that it isn’t really hurting anything, that its a ‘good’ thing, perhaps it helps us cope with daily stressors, our find comfort in the gossip, that little hit of dopamine when we compare ourselves to others, or we hide in ‘little white lies’. Soon enough, however, we come to realize that our sin has become a problem, that it is actually hurting us, emotionally, spiritually and even physically, and that we must somehow address it, and get it out of our lives. Usually, by this point of recognition, our sin has become so entwined with us, like the vines of the silverthorn, growing swiftly when allowed, and enmeshing into our being. By the time we recognize our plight, it is often time almost too late. The thing we once told ourselves was ‘good’ is now choking us out, and when it is time to eradicate it, it can cause a lot of collateral damage in its removal.
Additionally, removing this vile shrub out of my back garden cost me blood. As I write this, my hands and arms are criss-crossed with cuts and nicks, and it serves as a painful further reminder of my folly and the price I had to pay to clean up my garden. So to, our sin required blood, shed from an innocent lamb, to pay for my sin, and for yours, as payment to make us clean.
Finally, as then sun began to set, the silver thorn was defeated, all the twining branches pulled free and hauled away, my years once again clean, but the work will not be over fo a long time. You see, like our sin, the roots of this pernicious shrub run deep in the soil, and will live on for some time. I will have to be vigilant, and prepared to cut back any new growths that attempt to invade each spring. Our sin is the same, even with the redemptive work of Christ on the cross, even after my repentance, my flesh will still be tempted. Like the shrub, over time the tempting will have less of a pull on me, but unlike the shrub, whose roots will eventually wither and die, I am sure to be tempted again and again, and must continue to return to lessons such as this to remind me of the cost, and the redemptive grace poured out freely on the cross.
From one man He made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and He marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from any one of us. Acts 17:26-27