This past weekend, I completed a task I had been avoiding all spring. I pulled weeds. My prolonged neglect of them had resulted in their spread and multiplication, but since I live alone and seldom have visitors, I had convinced myself that addressing them was not a matter of urgency.

Who cares? They’re not bothering anyone. Nobody’s around to see them but me. But my mama and daddy raised me right, and I like things to look neat and well kept. I saw them, I cared, and ultimately, they bothered me.

Weeding has never been a relished chore of mine, but despite my initial dread, it surprisingly turned out to be a rewarding experience. Not only was I rid of the unsightly weeds, but in the solitude of the task, I also learned some lessons.

I live in a rural holler, where I often only hear birds and the rustling of the wind through the trees. It is pure bliss, although, in the midst of other busyness, including TV-watching, laptopping, and scrolling through social media on my phone, I often fail to appreciate it...and to my own detriment, I might add.

Having set aside those time-draining distractions in order to be outdoors on a beautiful day with warm sunshine and a gentle breeze, I was afforded much-needed space to think and pray – things that, like the weeds, I often neglect or, at the very least, delay giving my attention to.

Isn’t it curious how that works? When we’re still, we can know things. We can become awake and aware and in touch. We can see and hear and understand things more clearly.

It was in the midst of this very quietude, with the weed patch as my classroom, that I began to draw insights from the task at hand. Here are a few of them.

Weed Lesson One:

The more you put off tending to weeds, the more invasive they become. The wheelbarrow load of weeds I hauled off bore witness to that. And so it is with life. When I fail to address the negativity and cares of this world that overwhelm me, choking out my joy, creativity, and mental health, it only gets worse with the passage of time. It’s much better (and easier) to keep things in check on a regular basis…to pull weeds now, while they are small, versus having to machete your way through a jungle later.

This is also true of my spiritual life and walk with the Lord, and I believe what God’s Word teaches us about our sin natures. In Romans 7, Paul writes of our propensity to sin and the internal wrestling match that is ongoing between our natural flesh and our new “creature-ness,” which we have in Christ. In the weed patch of life, my “sin weeds” thwart my usefulness and fruitfulness for the Lord,

I’ve often heard it said that keeping a short account with God is advisable, and that’s where regular use of the weed killers known as “confession” and “repentance” come into play. Roundup is not going to help in this situation, but if I confess my sins, God is faithful and just to forgive me and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9). And when I do an about face, turning from my sin and turning to the Lord, I find that He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness. (Joel 2:13).

Weed Lesson Two:

I’ve also learned that some weeds, although they may look daunting, are unexpectedly easy to pull, and I thank God that some of the things that bedevil us can be dealt with before they have a chance to develop deep root systems and strongholds in our lives.

Other weeds will resist you. These are the ones that are firmly entrenched in the ground or fight back with prickly stems, daring you to touch them. In these instances, when we struggle with more formidable opponents, I thank God that His Spirit strengthens us and helps us to overcome them. “For nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37).

Weed Lesson Three:

Finally, I was reminded of Romans 8:26, which tells us there are times when we don’t know how to pray or what to pray for, but the Spirit helps us in our infirmity and intercedes on our behalf, making expressions for us that are too deep for words. I can just imagine that Jesus, as our intercessor and advocate with God, pulls the weeds (i.e., our weak thoughts, our lack of words, our requests that don’t align with God’s will and purpose) from our prayers and then presents those prayers to our Heavenly Father in the form of a beautiful, fragrant, and pleasing bouquet.

And so, I say thank You, Jesus, for the revelation of Yourself to me in the midst of stillness. Thank You for Your love and forgiveness. Thank You for Your strength and intercession. Thank You for lessons learned from something as simple and bothersome as weeds. And thank You for being the Master Gardener of my life. 
See less