Stripped Away
“I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more."
John 15:1,2.
So the secateurs (the pruning shears) are out then. Back in the day, pruning was the analogy used to describe those times when God seemed to step into your lives and do a little vine work...It wasn't even necessarily about the bad stuff. It involved good stuff too - the happy, successful, effective areas of your life. An abrupt end, a sharp change,letting go, moving on and leaving a nice cosy set up behind. My friend Paul used to say when you are pruned back there's just less of everything. Oh, and it hurt. And its lonely. Yet somehow in the pruning experience there's an opportunity to connect with God in a deeper, tangible way.
Eventually the process would stop (generally when you felt there was nothing left to hack) and you've move on. The pain eases, is a distant memory.Just when things are finally starting to look like they are getting somewhere, and the 'fruit" returns,you see the silvery glint of the secatuer out of the corner of your eye, and you know what happens next..
And here we are in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis/St.Paul as Chris completes his ordination stuff. We've left our home, friends, community, and church in Phoenix and find ourselves here. St.Paul (where we are) is lovely, and its Autumn which is invigorating.
Yet I see the glint of silver. A smaller home, simpler (maybe we all need a bit of pruning from our consumerist culture, but hey). I hear a cutting sound when I feel the distance from my close friends, family, even in Phoenix. I see the budding fruit, blossoms, whatever works in this analogy fall quietly to the ground under the silvery glint as I look back at our three years at CCOJ. I want to ask the Lord as nicely as possible if he didn't see just how hard we worked for some of that, how we longed, prayed for, fought for, wept for, sacrificed for that. But I know he'll remind me that its not my own and nor am I.I'm a branch attached to a far bigger purpose.So I don't ask, I just let go.
And keep letting go, until there is nothing left.
John 15:1,2.
So the secateurs (the pruning shears) are out then. Back in the day, pruning was the analogy used to describe those times when God seemed to step into your lives and do a little vine work...It wasn't even necessarily about the bad stuff. It involved good stuff too - the happy, successful, effective areas of your life. An abrupt end, a sharp change,letting go, moving on and leaving a nice cosy set up behind. My friend Paul used to say when you are pruned back there's just less of everything. Oh, and it hurt. And its lonely. Yet somehow in the pruning experience there's an opportunity to connect with God in a deeper, tangible way.
Eventually the process would stop (generally when you felt there was nothing left to hack) and you've move on. The pain eases, is a distant memory.Just when things are finally starting to look like they are getting somewhere, and the 'fruit" returns,you see the silvery glint of the secatuer out of the corner of your eye, and you know what happens next..
And here we are in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis/St.Paul as Chris completes his ordination stuff. We've left our home, friends, community, and church in Phoenix and find ourselves here. St.Paul (where we are) is lovely, and its Autumn which is invigorating.
Yet I see the glint of silver. A smaller home, simpler (maybe we all need a bit of pruning from our consumerist culture, but hey). I hear a cutting sound when I feel the distance from my close friends, family, even in Phoenix. I see the budding fruit, blossoms, whatever works in this analogy fall quietly to the ground under the silvery glint as I look back at our three years at CCOJ. I want to ask the Lord as nicely as possible if he didn't see just how hard we worked for some of that, how we longed, prayed for, fought for, wept for, sacrificed for that. But I know he'll remind me that its not my own and nor am I.I'm a branch attached to a far bigger purpose.So I don't ask, I just let go.
And keep letting go, until there is nothing left.
posted by Jo Saxton @ 7:08 PM
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