“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” – Galatians 5:1 (NIV)
Sweat beaded on my brow as I worked my way down the flowerbed. The bucket next to me sat nearly full with weeds and dead leaves. To my left, a weed-free bed spanned in elegance. Each bush seemed to sigh, free of the invaders once choking their roots.
To my right, the distance dwindled steadily to the end. Pluck, pluck. Two more imposters joined the bucket with their cohorts. I smiled. My garden would soon be beautiful again.
I reached the end. One final weed. My gloved hands grasped its protruding growth. I froze, took another look, and released my grip.
The tiny plant twinkled in the morning dew, beckoning me with its delicate leaves. I glanced in my bucket for a comparison. Nothing I’d yanked from the soil resembled this beauty. Had a lone seed found its way into my garden? I studied its form again and saw not a sight of offense but one of promised splendor.
What harm could there be in letting it grow?
I left my new visitor alone to flourish among my sweet Japanese Boxwoods and Spirea. Almost every day I inspected the tiny plant, anticipating what unknown bloom would soon burst forth from its exquisite leaves. Surely something so bewitching would promise a flower unlike any I’d seen before.
One day I checked my promised treasure again. My mouth dropped to see the transformation a mere two days had produced. Spiny projections marred the once elegant lines of the green leaves. A thick, gangly stem had replaced the tiny bud I’d thought held a dainty flower. I’d been fooled. I recognized the deceiver for what it was.
A weed.
Like a soldier on a mission, I stood over my garden intruder and made a plan of attack. I wrapped my hands around the base, ignoring the prickle I felt through my gloves, and pulled. Some of the leaves broke off with a jerk, yet the bulk of the weed remained.
More determined than ever, I plunged a spade into the dirt to loosen the soil. Surely that would set this intruder on a path to my bucket. I yanked again. The root held firm despite the few prickly leaves I held. I had to dig deeper.
Again and again I spiked the shovel around the root, giving a tug every so often. The weed loosened but refused to budge. I dug deeper. A gouging hole now marred my garden as well.
Then the nudge of the Holy Spirit brought my hands to a stop. God’s soft voice spoke to my heart.
“This is sin in your life.”
I dropped my shovel. Tears welled in my eyes. The deception fell in God’s light, revealing its darkness. How had its beauty blinded me? Had I recognized this “weed” for what it was, I could have yanked it out sooner. Yet I’d let it grow, lured by its tempting beauty, fooled by the promise of something greater to come.
I’d been an Eve in my own garden.
Head down I prayed for forgiveness. Begged for freedom from this stronghold of sin. God gave me reassurance again of my place in His heart and comforted my spirit.
I glared at the weed, my guilt gone as I gripped the exposed root, praying for God’s help. The sound of the first tear of roots breaking free from the earth spurred me on. I pulled harder.
The imposter released its hold from the soil. A long root dangled from my hand, exposed to sunlight. I tossed the green monster into my bucket, then smoothed dirt and mulch to fill the gaping hole left behind. Peace and satisfaction now replaced the tension of my struggle.
I slipped off my gloves, then wiped my brow. Now my garden was truly free.
Praying and believing, Dineen
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