Painful Pruning

Just days before embarking on my 5th annual Winter Retreat with some of the most fantastic people in the world, I experienced my first extremely challenging run. Days before that, I had begun experiencing spontaneous foot, knee, and hip joint pain despite the fact I hadn't even run for 4 days before that. The pain accompanied me on last Thursday's very difficult 7 mile run and there were a few times I thought maybe I should just call it quits. I didn't want to overextend myself if my body was warning me of something wrong, but I wanted to balance that with enduring the inevitable pain coming with long-distance training so as to build my stamina. I ended up making it through, but with the notion I probably shouldn't do another long-distance run over 4 miles for at least a week to allow my body to recuperate.

The retreat at Lake Geneva Youth Conference center (starring 200 middle schoolers from various area churches and my small band of brave 20, 30, and 40 somethings) was a hoot and a half as always. It is so refreshing to receive a yearly license to be loud, obnoxious, and ludicrous and be able to blame it on lack of sleep and too many jostles of the brain whilst midnight tubing.

The other bright spot of the weekend was our speaker, Paul, whose brilliant message left a deep footprint on my heart. He spoke from John 15 (the Vine, the branches, the bearing of fruit, and all that jazz...) and shined all kinds of light on one of those uber familiar passages people tend to gloss right over. But one segment of his message in particular floored me--that of the pruning process for the branches, signifying the trials and tribulations of the believer. The quote Paul read from a commentary on this passage Saturday night was by far the most impactful:

The greatest judgment God could bring to a believer would be to let him alone, let him have his own way. Because God loves us, He “prunes” us and encourages us to bear more fruit for His glory. If the branches could speak, they would confess that the pruning process hurts; but they would also rejoice that they will be able to produce more and better fruit.

Your Heavenly Father is never nearer to you than when He is pruning you. Sometimes He cuts away the dead wood that might cause trouble; but often He cuts off the living tissue that is robbing you of spiritual vigor. Pruning does not simply mean spiritual surgery that removes what is bad. It can also mean cutting away the good and the better so that we might enjoy the best. Yes, pruning hurts, but it also helps. We may not enjoy it, but we need it.

How does the Father prune us? Sometimes He simply uses the Word to convict and cleanse us. (The word translated “purge” in John 15:2 is the same as “clean” in John 13:10. See Eph. 5:26–27.) Sometimes He must chasten us (Heb. 12:1–11). At the time, it hurts when He removes something precious from us; but as the “spiritual crop” is produced, we see that the Father knew what He was doing.

As I listened to this insight, numerous things ran through my head. First, I envisioned my non-believing friends who are/have/will face trials and how this passage and gleaned wisdom could serve as a testimony to them.

Then, I contemplated how I convey this message to my own students through discipline, consequences, and tough love. I put them all through their fair share of suffering and hardship knowing full well its necessity for their growth and refinement and preparation for the future. With their meager pinhole-sized view of the situation, the students easily become resistant, closed-off, or even angry in response. But, my bird's eye view, along with the wisdom and understanding it brings, allows me to intuit that the unpleasantness they face is of great value and promoting their welfare.


The first few minutes after the teaching session I paraded around feeling quite philosophical, enlightened and borderline smug at just how attuned I was to this pruning process already.


Then, at some point it hit me. In this life I am not the wise, all-knowing Teacher, but the impatient, egocentric, ignorant student who whines and laments and manipulates in an attempt to get out of unfavorable situations. Sure, I may be growing in my ability to handle tough situations with grace and prayer and wise counsel; yet I still repeatedly refuse to acknowledge that there is Someone infinitely wiser who loves me dearly, whose ways are perfect, who is orchestrating my life perfectly to reach the destination meant for me.

I need to be perpetually cognizant of my own pinhole-sized view of my world and stop plotting and planning and attempting to usurp control as if I have even an inkling of what the panorama of my life looks like. That's hard to do if I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop, as is customary for my line of thinking.

For some reason--be it scars of past wounds, or low self-esteem, or even a warped self-centeredness--I've always had this mentality that I'm not destined to reap the joys of life that others experience (a family of my own, for instance). As a result, I'm all the more propelled to try to seize the joys for myself--as if I have the power.

Taming the control-freak is an ongoing battle in all areas of my life, but perhaps where I need to focus my energies at the moment is reminding myself that God wants as much joy and prosperity for my life as I do, and even more. It's just that, the joy and prosperity doesn't get handed to me in a pretty box the moment I snap my fingers. It comes after many seasons snipping and trimming, wounds and scars.

But it comes.

Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.