Consider the wildflowers, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!
Luke 12: 27-28
A few days ago, I was outside talking to my grandma on the phone. I like to make my phone calls outside, one because when there is a chance someone will see me whilst driving by, I stop my relentless pacing that takes place when I am indoors (gee, thanks social anxiety) and two because I like to be out in the fresh air, and have company whilst doing so. Often times, however, I find myself doing things while I am talking. Either I am going through Instagram, forsaking the beauty before me in conversation and in the outdoors, or I am staring at the lawn sitting in front of me and the dandelions creep into my head and are relentless in their calling me to remove them from the green grass. The other day the latter transpired.
My grandma and I were talking about some pretty heavy things, she was giving me encouragement regarding some major life decisions I have made in the last week, extending her willing hand to help me however I needed, reminding me of God’s sovereignty through it all. Though the conversation was compelling, I still felt the urge to pull all of the weeds which resided in every crack and crevice of the driveway and on every square inch of the yard. I saw them all and saw how even in the midst of this conversation they took away from the beauty of the front of our cute little house and distracted me from the things at hand.
I worked tirelessly then, even after I hung up from my grandma, to make sure all the weeds I could find were pulled up from the roots and thrown in the garbage that was to be taken the next day, never to be seen again.
Let me tell you, it looked great when I was finished. Weeds that had been growing in the cracks of the cement in our drive were now lying as waste and it looked smooth and clean just as something that a car drives over daily should look. I was so proud, that everyone who drove by could see that our driveway was clear and clean—someone obviously cares at that house, right?
While I was clearing these weeds though, I had a thought about the way I was pulling these weeds with my two pronged weeding tool that digs deep, sitting on both sides of the root to pull the weed completely out, in hopes of making the lawn and driveway look clear and pristine. The thought was of how this process is so akin to the way Jesus works in our hearts.
Jesus works tirelessly to remove weeds from our heart to make us clean and pristine— the weeds of unbelief, distrust, unforgiving ways, unkindness, anxieties, burdens—the list goes on and on. When we trust in him as our Lord and Savior, we allow him to come into our hearts to weed. His tool however, is not like the two pronged one I used to pull the weeds in the front of my house, but his love, the freedom we gain from the blood he shed on the cross, the price he paid to the Father in our place so that we could come to Him and be clean and pristine as Jesus was.
Later that day after weeding, I came upon a quote that read, “The prettier the garden, the dirtier the hands of the gardener.”
My breath was taken after reading this, after contemplating the way Jesus weeds our hearts like a gardener earlier in the day.
Jesus has the dirtiest hands—they have worked the hardest, paid the ultimate price. The cleanest gardener went from white as snow, to covered in blood, with a crown of thorns on his head and nails in his palms, all so he could have the prettiest garden in us. We just have to give him the opportunity to do his work in the garden, because it has already been done, he has already made us clear and pristine. He has already determined it is our place to have the passerby admire the way our soul is clear and pristine, so they can see his glory, and because of that, we don’t worry about the weeds. All we have to do is let the truth that he has and is taking care of the weeds, reside in our hearts.