Beauty from Ashes and Fruit from Sticker bushes

To bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair~ Isaiah 61:3

When we moved to Arizona we bought a house that was almost in foreclosure, and like most houses that are in or near foreclosure it was in pretty rough shape. Our two primary concerns upon taking possession of it were getting the pool to the point we could swim in it and the house clean enough to sleep in it. I won’t dwell on the gory details, but suffice it to say even with all five of us working constantly it still took nearly two weeks to get to that point.

 Because the house was in such rough shape it took us three months to get to the backyard. Until recently the only thing we did back there (besides have the pool fixed and filled) was to water the “lawn” and then chop down the weeds that grew. We did take note of some things that needed our attention and the one thing that everybody agreed needed to be done was to deal with a particular tree that was growing near the swimming pool.

The tree itself is beautiful: it’s full and bushy, at least seven feet tall with shiny leaves of deep green and occasional tiny white blossoms. It’s the type of plant that you just want to reach out and touch every time you walk past it. And therein lies the problem: the bush also has wicked one-inch spikes on every square inch of the branches.

 We all agreed that the plant seemed to have an almost sentient awareness of the presence of humans and would reach out and grab us as we walked past. Every member of our family has been a bloody victim of the tree at one time or another. The plan was to kill the tree and replace it with a nice lime tree (I’m a big fan of limes). We had many pet names for the tree, including…

Creepy murder tree

Stabby tree

Spikey death tree

Evil green menace   

Stupid murder tree

Tree of hate

Last weekend my husband put on a thick long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and leatherwork gloves, gathered up the biggest, hedge-clippers he could find and announced, in his most manly voice, that he was going to prune the murder tree until it died. I gleefully blessed his efforts, instructed him to be careful and got started on an indoor project. About twenty minutes later he returned and dropped a branch on the kitchen counter top, at the end of the spike-covered branch was a beautiful, fragrant, perfectly ripe… You guessed it-lime. Of course the ridiculousness of the situation was not lost on either one of us; we had been walking past that stupid tree for three months and never noticed the limes. So much for our profound powers of observation.

Later that evening as I was slicing fresh limes for tacos I thought about how that stupid tree is a lot like life. The things we hate the most and would most like to eradicate from our lives can often, given enough time and submission to God’s plan, bear the sweetest fruit in our lives.

The very things that we think are going to kill us at the time are the experiences that have the power to make us better people; the betrayal of a friend makes us more determined to demonstrate loyalty in all our relationships. The death of a loved one, although painful, is the very thing that gives us the tools we need to comfort a friend through a similar loss. The ugly end of a romantic relationship matures us and prepares us for “the one.” Ironically, some of the most wise and loving parents I know had far less than ideal childhoods.

Compassion and empathy for others is often born out of personal pain and tragedy. Pain, both physical and emotional, can make us stronger and kinder, more tuned in to the suffering of our fellow humans.

The lime tree made me think about all the times in my life I have tried to run from trouble or pain or actively fought God instead of choosing to seek God’s wisdom for ways to grow and mature through the process of healing.

Of course, not everyone who has a negative experience miraculously turns into a better person; it’s all about choice. Personal pain or difficulty can make us either beautiful or ugly. It’s all about our response. Will we respond to pain with our fist raised to God, angry that He did not give us what we felt we deserved? If we do, the result will be an ugly, bitter spirit that defiles not only us but also those closest to us (see Hebrews 12:15). The other option is to humbly approach God with an open heart asking Him to use our pain for a higher purpose. If we are willing to do that there is no end to the good that can come of out of our suffering.

 In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed~ 1^st Peter 1:6-7