Lessons from the Briar Patch

I love plants. I dream of having a flourishing garden, an orchard with multiple types of fruit-bearing trees, and multiple species of berries growing around my yard. Sadly, the reality is that I am terrible at growing plants. Apparently, they need a lot of care and attention. You can’t just plant them and forget them. Every attempt to achieve my garden dreams has failed—except blackberries. The only plant I have yet to grow successfully is blackberries. That’s not to say that blackberries don’t have their own share of needs. But somehow, they have not only thrived in my yard, but they are popping up in new places where we don’t even want them. I have ignored them for the past two years as life got pretty crazy.

Pruning
The thing about ignoring blackberries is that where other plants might wither away and die if forgotten, blackberries tend to grow, to thrive—is there such a thing as overthrive? Because that is what they do. They go wild! See, you are supposed to cut back the old canes in the fall. Then, in the springtime, after the new canes have grown out, you prune them back. Doing these two types of cutting keeps the blackberries under control and leads to not only healthier berries, but also berries that are easier to harvest. If you fail to do it, you will encounter what I did: a patch of unruly brambles reaching several feet over my head with the taller vines shielding the productive, fruit-bearing ones underneath. They formed a nearly impenetrable barrier to the sun shining down on them and to my tender hands reaching to pluck more berries to fill my basket.

“I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser.  Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit. John 15:1-2 

Raising children is the same way. We must stay vigilant to prune back unproductive pursuits and interests, ungodly habits and attitudes, and unhealthy relationships that entangle their hearts and distract them from truth. Just like with blackberry canes, sometimes it isn’t easy to discern between the ones that should be pruned away and those that should be left to grow until a bit of time has passed. But the sooner we can get them out of the way, the easier it is to do so. Removing them exposes them to the Light, which opens the door for God’s truth to be made known to them.

The entrance of Your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple. Psalm 119:130 

Pests
I have to battle many types of pests to keep my berries safe. Beetles, slugs, spiders, flies, and bees share my love for the juicy fruit. I have learned to look where I am about to put my hand to avoid unpleasant surprises. As I was picking berries one day, trying to stay calm as bees and wasps buzzed around me and beetles intermittently flew about my head as I disturbed their fruity feast, I was reminded of all the “pests” that are fighting to win my children’s hearts. I am engaged in a fierce battle to be the primary influence on them, to guide them in the way they should go, and lead them to the lifepath that God has for them. There’s no backing down on their part, so there can’t be on mine. Some days, I decide to let the bees and beetles have that day’s share of berries. I just don’t feel like fighting them. But when it comes to my children, I can’t grow weary and give up. I have to stay engaged.

And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart. Galatians 6:9

 Prickles
Even with the old canes cut away and the new ones trimmed, there are many thorny prickles that envelop the berries I want to pick. I never come away from the berry patch unscathed. It seems that the very ripest and largest berries are the ones lying just underneath a particularly thorny covering. I have learned to lift the thorns up and out of the way, then reach in gingerly to pluck the ripe berry hidden beneath the thorns. But no matter how carefully I work, I always have to pull prickles out of my hands and wrists afterwards. I have tried wearing gloves, but if they are tough enough to protect me from the thorns, then they are too thick to pick the delicate berries. So my hands wear the marks of the prickles all summer long, bearing testimony to my perseverance to collect my juicy treasures.

If my heart could be seen as easily as my scratched-up hands, it would reveal many more scratches and cuts that have been endured in my undertakings as a parent. Raising children requires a tender heart, but tender hearts are easily scarred. The Greek word in the New Testament that is translated as “tenderhearted” is eusplagchnos, meaning “love that comes from deep within.” Only a love that comes from deep within gives us a heart tough enough to push past the thorns yet tender enough to give the nurturing love and care our children need.

Picking
And then, in time, comes the harvest—those sweet, sun-ripened moments when you see the fruit of your labor in the beautiful person they grow to be. Just like berries picked at their peak, your children bring you joy when you see them grow into who they were created to be and that makes all the pruning, protecting, and persevering worthwhile. The pruning shears gather dust in a corner of the shed, the scratches fade, and the battles with pests are a faded memory. But our children are a basket of treasure that brings a lifetime of joy. The cherished memories we made along the way far outshine the pain and effort we endured.

See, children are a gift from the Lord. The children born to us are our special reward. Psalm 127:3