It’s something I dream about all winter long.
While I stare out my windows at the naked branches and stark terrain, I daydream of pulling up the deadened plants and decaying leaves littering my garden beds. I imagine plunging my hands into the moistened ground and smelling the fragrant air of a new spring. The black-capped chickadees sing their two-toned song that fills me with promise and sunshine, even when the sky’s clouds refuse to reveal their glow.
I usually start the season strong. With eager anticipation, I shovel and haul the dead things out to make way for new life. I lay new soil. I provide the soil with nutrients. I watch the long-waiting bulbs of Fall sprout into daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths. And then I see the red stalk of my garden’s crown jewel—the several species of peonies that come in late Spring. It's all so glorious and wonderful.
But with all of this majesty comes a snag.
Instead of my eyes settling on the whites, reds, and purples I had carefully planted, the greens of my yard, the soil of my garden beds, and even the crevices of my patio stones are littered with yellow. Dandelions—part flower, all weed—threaten to overwhelm everything I've worked hard to cultivate. It's not just the dandelions though; other uninvited guests begin to sprout behind my curated garden edging. Crabgrass, thistles, and this other weed that isn’t cilantro but smells like it. Gag.
So to properly tend to my beloved blooms, I need to get rid of the weeds. Even in my limited knowledge as an amateur gardener, I know weeds devour the nutrients my flowers need. If not taken care of, weeds will take over. Weeds are counterfeit flowers. And most importantly to me, weeds are just plain ugly. They make the organized spaces that I carefully filled with mulch look dishevelled. The order has been compromised. The beauty of the garden has been diminished. Horticultural chaos looms if I neglect my duties.
Yet, halfway through the summer, apathy sets in.
It’s hot, I’m busy, and there’s just so many weeds! Sometimes, tending to the garden completely flees my mind amid all the other pressing needs. Plus the bugs. There’s no time of day in the summer months when a mosquito is not seeking to suck my blood. I’m their most favourite target. And all it takes is one rainfall for the nasty weedlings to take full advantage of my distraction. I look out at my gardens and no longer see the hope of blooms but the condemnation of weedy thieves. They stole my garden. They stole my joy.
But the flowers still bloom. They continue to display their petals of poetry. They still thrive amid competition. They are still worthy of attention—but I no longer look at them.
My garden woes can be applied to my feelings about the Church.
God continues his work breaking the chains of sin, and many heed the call to be his hands and feet. Miracles are happening, souls are saved, and love is mobilized. Those weeds, though….the false teachers, the hypocrisy, the divisions, the errancy. The down-right refusal to read God’s Word as revealed truth and not as a college textbook that can be critiqued and altered. The sin.
There are so many weeds within the Church that it can hide my view of the flowers.
I need to shift my focus to the flowers.
It's good to work at weeding out bad theology and sin from our midst, but it’s poison to the mind to allow the bad news to overshadow the Good News.
Psalm 94:19 says, “When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.”
It does the heart no good to perseverate on all the ways we’ve failed to live up to Jesus's prayer for his children in John 17—that we would have love for one another the way the Father loves the Son.
Anything touched by people is corrupted—which is everything. This includes God’s church. Our sinful desires, thoughts, and actions pollute our purity. We are failing to live holy lives; we are failing to meet God’s standards.
Yet this is exactly why God sent Jesus. He lived the perfect life we could never attain and took the punishment that we had earned. The church of God is not a shiny trophy of excellence—we’re a rag-tag group of miscreants who have been saved by grace.
And there’s plenty of room for more of us.
God’s grace extends to the low and needy. God’s grace extends to the high and mighty. God’s grace extends to the haters, the deniers, the confused, the hurting, and the hypocrites.
My spirit grieves and my hope falters when sin within the church rampages, or the wolves ravish its flock. I grieve for the people and the pain it causes. I grieve for what we could be, and should be, but are so far from becoming. I grieve over my sin that contributes to the mess.
I’m grateful that God’s grace stretches far and wide enough to cover all that grieves his Holy heart because there are too many to name. His forgiveness covers every weed that chokes and steals.
I must live with the weeds—the Great Gardener will deal with them in due time—but as for my part, I will focus on the flowers. I will enjoy God’s fellowship and lean into His promises. I will trust and obey Him because of His steadfast love, and seek to be a conduit of his love and grace.
I will join the flowers—and God’s name will be glorified through our flawed yet well-intentioned display.
So that’s exactly what I did.
God ordained that I would learn of a 24-hour prayer service in our town, organized by 4 churches—of different denominations. Their charters, structures, and modes of worship differed. Their politics and positions were conflicting. And yet they came together as one body united in humble praise before the Almighty. I walked into a building I only knew by name, stood among strangers I only knew by context, and joined my voice in praise and prayer to the only One who could pull our strangled chords into harmony.
It was the most beautiful experience to behold.
I stood holding my daughter’s hands while people prayed for healing, for lonely lives to be touched by Christ’s love, and for the next generation—for my children. I was known by none but lifted in prayer by all. Scripture was read, hands were raised, smiles were offered, and Jesus was worshipped.
Christ’s Church is a kinship forged by His blood, and there is no power strong enough to break it.
Somehow, with my eyes on the weeds, I missed the crowning jewel: It is Christ himself. It is His beauty that emanates through the growth. It is His Church—His grand design—and He will not allow it to decay:
“I will build my church and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.” Matthew 16:17b
Beautifully said!!