Out-of-Control House Plant

It was a lovely Mother's Day gift from my Granddaughter, Kara, her husband Brian and their two little daughters...my great-granddaughters. The plant's name was "Tropic Escape Mandevilla" and we got along harmoniously together. 

The new plant provided gorgeous trumpet-like crimson blossoms and all the buds came to maturity and followed suit.  I provided admiration, appreciation, water and nutrition and plenty of full sun in my kitchen window overlooking the valley.

Then it seemed the plant decided that it needed a rest from all that energetic blooming and all was quiet for awhile. Blossoms dried and silently dropped off.

Without any warning my "Mandy" began to sprout long, thin shoots helter-skelter all over the plant. Some stringy-thingys were a foot long, even two feet. When the strings got near each other they naturally entwined. Some approached the venetian blind on the window and started to climb. I wasn't sure whether those stringy shoots were to be cut back or nurtured. I simply didn't know what Mandy wanted to do.

Naturally I Googled for help but the care growing instructions were a little confusing: "Trim back as needed."  Trim back what?  Leaves or stems? Or get my nippers and murder all the stringy-thingys? I'm still not sure. I don't want to hurt Mandy needlessly, nor do I want to just let her grow wild and unmanageable, if it isn't good for her.

Theoretically, I know about pruning in nature. I wrote a blog post about it almost ten years ago when I started this blog with an analogy to our spiritual lives. I believe the principle of pruning applies equally to the blooming plant in my kitchen. However, I'm still in limbo about what I should do with the stringy-thingys on my Mandy. I welcome advice from my blog post viewers!

THE "OUCH!" OF BEING PRUNED

 

“Every branch that bears fruit He prunes.” No exceptions. That’s what Jesus declared in John chapter 15. 

“But that hurts!” I argue. “Shouldn’t I expect His applause and commendation instead? After all, I'm trying to obey Him. I’m already bearing some fruit.”

That’s the law of the Vineyard. God the Father calls the shots. He is the Vinegrower, the Master Gardener, the Owner of the Vineyard and of the entire Orchard. He makes the rules. If I am already bearing fruit, I will get pruned.


Pruning isn’t punishment. It is Father God’s loving investment in me to move me forward to flourish, to bear still more fruit, then much fruit. But it seems as if in my summit years the pruning is on the increase!

God's pruning clippers are often disguised as adversity, hardship, loss, or detachment from the intrinsically good in order to bring forth the better and the best. Pruning is not willy-nilly child’s play. It must be precisely done by One who knows what He is doing. It requires skill and focused intent and gentle severity. On my part it may involve brokenness. But it is done for my future strength not the temporary weakness that I feel and perceive. God’s intention is to clear away the impediment of dead wood and the wild new shoots that wouldn’t result in sweet fruit.

Rather than resisting Divine pruning, I would do well to lift my branches to Him and welcome His loving, tender cultivation.

PRUNING

I delight to sprout new shoots!
I enjoy loud admiration from others

who try so hard to produce theirs

while I'm always pregnant with potentiality

and effervescent with possibility.

Along comes The Master Gardener
sharpening His nipper-clippers.
He starts lopping off and snipping
my upstart, grand productions.
I cry in agony to see

my precious creativity and spontaneity

treated so shamefully!

"Wild growth!" He proclaims.

"It detours the flow of My mainline life
to useless, spurious shoots."

Selectively, but tenderly, He cuts back
my prized and puffy self-efforts.
Tearfully I watch them fall
and shrivel and wither and die.
I nurse my wounded ego
dismayed to see them go.

But in time I come to see
though reluctantly and painfully
the necessity and joy of submitting

to Divine authority

and providential priority. 

When ripe fruit finally bursts forth

from my remaining main-branch buds,
my strength and vigor thus conserved
God-life surges through my fewer shoots
because The Master Gardener chose
to prune my wild and wayward ways
and perform on me His loving, skillful surgery.