I write about the things I understand. As a visual learner, I am often struck by images that capture the state of my soul and help me to go through whatever I'm facing just a little bit easier. Today, it was the backhoe. As I was taking my walk through the vineyards, I came upon a backhoe sitting on top of a mound of fresh dirt. The field below it had been cleared of old grapevines, and all that was left was a scarred and scrubby landscape. To the left and right of this field were vines carefully dressed and ready for the next season, but this field was lying bare and unfruitful, at least for the next season.
I started thinking about how my life oftentimes resembles this scene. Where once stood a lush and fruitful field, there are now only brambles and holes where things have been violently removed from my life. This field serves no purpose, and it has no harvest to look forward to.
Beauty in Destruction
On second glance, I see the backhoe waiting at the top of the hill, ready to distribute life-giving soil to an over-cultivated and depleted field. The claw will tear this field up bit by bit and mix the old with the new, but only in doing so can the field be made ready for the new vines that promise more fruit. The violence of what has to happen is extreme, but the farmer knows that this step has to happen for the next ones to be taken. If he were to plant new vines in this 'barren wilderness,' he would waste precious resources and time for what would surely be a meager harvest. Only in tearing it all up can he be sure that the investment he makes will be a profitable one.
Can we, the field in this image, allow patterns of thinking and behaving to be destroyed so that our lives can be renewed and a rich 'harvest' achieved? Can we trust that even in loss, there is a purpose in all the chaos we are experiencing and that someone has a greater purpose in making us endure this painful season? I have placed my trust in the Master Gardener and believe with all my heart that His plan is greater than my understanding. I humbly bow to an authority that is higher than I in the hope of one day bearing the fruit that He will be proud of.