Surviving a Hard Season

Pink,Crape,Myrtle,In,Sunlight

A couple of years ago, my husband and I (well, actually, my husband) planted ten Crape Myrtles in our backyard. I don’t have a green thumb, and yard work is not my jam, so John does all the planting. He travels frequently for work, and not long after planting the trees, he left town, and I may have forgotten a time (or ten) to water. I’m indoorsy and prone to forget this type of thing. On top of that, the following winter was harsh and lingered longer than usual. When spring finally arrived, our Crape Myrtles were on life support. John did everything he could to get them flourishing but finally gave up and cut them off at ground level. Nothing was left but ten stumps that served as incriminating evidence pointing to my inattention and lack of horticulture skills. But then a funny thing happened. About a month later, those Crape Myrtles sprouted out of the ground, grew three feet in a flash, and bloomed vibrant pink.

To the naked eye, it appeared those trees were goners. Apart from the stump, there was nothing left. The dead branches were cut off and hauled away. Turns out, that’s what they needed to grow and thrive. I couldn’t help but think about how those trees relate to the Christian life. Jesus described it this way:

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. Every branch in me that does not produce fruit he removes, and he prunes every branch that produces fruit so that it will produce more fruit. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I in you. Just as a branch is unable to produce fruit by itself unless it remains on the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. The one who remains in me and I in him produces much fruit, because you can do nothing without me.” (John 15:1-5).

Undoubtedly, it’s God’s intention for His followers to bear fruit. But bearing fruit doesn’t just happen. Bearing fruit is a byproduct of abiding in Christ. Jesus made it clear that it’s impossible to bear kingdom fruit apart from abiding. Secondly, to bear fruit, a believer must endure seasons of spiritual pruning. Pruning feels a lot like getting cut to the quick. It might come in the form of losing a relationship, a health crisis, unemployment, slander, harm to your reputation, or any number of things that put you in a position of weakness. For a time, things will look worse before they get better. Keep in mind, sometimes these things happen because we have made a bad choice or sinned. Other times things happen due to no fault of our own. Regardless, God has the ability to use all circumstances for our good (Rom. 8:28). During the pruning process, God cuts away things in our character and circumstances that are preventing us from flourishing. In his excellent book, The Secret Place of Thunder, John Starke describes it this way:

“But when these seasons come—and they will—they come not from an indifferent and careless Father who dismisses our pain. We may think God has abandoned us, or we may assume he is not good. We may grow bitter and hardened for a while, but God is at work, cutting back what is standing in the way of a long life of growth and fruit.”[1]

Pruning is painful and it’s never on our terms. But if we trust the character of the Vinedresser, we can move forward in faith, knowing it will eventually come to an end and the outcome will be beneficial. By God’s grace, may it be said of us:

The righteous thrive like a palm tree
and grow like a cedar tree in Lebanon.
Planted in the house of the Lord,
they thrive in the courts of our God.
They will still bear fruit in old age,
healthy and green, to declare, “The Lord is just;
he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him” (Psa. 92:12-15).

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[1] John Starke, The Secret Place of Thunder: Trading Our Need to be Noticed for a Hidden Life with Christ, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Reflective, 2023, p. 129).

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2 Responses

  1. This hit home. I lost my son to a fentanyl overdose 11/28/21. I can relate to being bitter and hardened. I always find comfort in the fact that my Father knows what it feels like to lose a son. I’m so grateful our paths crossed so many years ago, you’re a terrific writer! God bless you Sussie.

    1. Oh, Rich, I had no idea. I am so sorry. I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought about those days at Covenant. I, too, am so grateful to have met you! Praying God’s peace and comfort over you as you continue to grieve the loss of your son. God bless you, my friend.