June 1, 2009

I’ve been at battle in the only clump of trees on our property, having built a home on what used to be a tobacco field. One little clump of trees (some old and tall, however), with a pile of bricks from an old chimney and vines of such number that they call to mind Genesis 15’s promise to Abram: "Look now toward heaven, and count the stars, if thou be able to number them...So shall thy seed be...” I chop down one, only to find five more hiding under a branch.

Day One: armed only with a hoe, gardening gloves, and no little amount of anger, I attacked. The result? Three good-sized piles of vines, a broken hoe, and a road map of bleeding scratches on arms and legs.

Day Two: new hoe, new hedge trimmers, suede gloves. Better results, less injuries to hands. Arms and legs show further abuse. A bottle of weed killer held in reserve for drier, less windy conditions.

Day Three: Progress beginning to be evident (i.e. husband noticed).

Day Four: hasn’t happened at time of writing due to other obligations. Strategizing sessions have determined to add knee-high boots to armor, but decision made against burning the suckers out for fear of incinerating “friendlies.”

The enemy? Ironically named smilacaceae, perhaps to lull attackers into a false sense of security, they’re commonly known as cat briers, greenbriers, and a few other names the pastor would probably edit out. At any rate, they make me do anything but smile. Woody, thorny vines, they grow quickly, wrapping around anything available, and would, no doubt, choke out all life were it not for the seasonal interruption of winter that kills them back as well.

The thing is, they look good! Lush, verdant additions to the panorama. As long as you leave them alone, they fill in the empty spaces with greenery at an alarming rate…making the entire area inaccessible to all but the smallest of critters and insects.

A spiritual application cries out to be made.

There are thorny vines in all our lives-- habits, attitudes, patterns, unnecessary activities, even people, who infiltrate the environment, insinuating themselves into our time and energy, robbing us of our power and effectiveness. They may even look helpful and attractive, just as the vines do…from a distance.

Wishing they weren’t there, complaining about their existence, moaning about the should’ve’s and could’ve’s will do diddly-squat to stopping the onslaught. Dancing around them with flip-flops and pitiful cotton gloves will only end up with a bloody mess (our blood, too). Sometimes we need boots. Sharp instruments such as the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Killer chemicals such as repentance. Righteous anger’s power from the same Spirit which raised Christ from the dead, at work in us.

There is a time for Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild. But there’s also a time for the unleashing of God’s wrath on what is ungodly and harmful in our lives, even if the cost is personal: “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away” (Matthew 5:29). Just as I am compelled to attack those vines, so should we be compelled by God’s Spirit to remove the sin and all things counter-productive to his purposes:

“Let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfect or of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12: 1b-2, NRSV).

Total eradication is the goal. Out, out! foul vine.