Chapter 14
\u201cInstead, they will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.\u201d Isaiah 61:3 (NIV)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Spring creeps in like a whisper\u2014days grow longer, light lingers on soil that’s just beginning to thaw. Gardeners rejoice, but with the flowers come the thorns. Not just the literal kind, though those are plenty. We’re talking about the invasive, uninvited, stubborn sort\u2014plants like the False Mimosa, imported from Australia, now thriving across Switzerland\u2019s Ticino region. With its bright yellow clusters, it\u2019s beautiful\u2014until it takes over. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Bible\u2019s thorns and thistles have always had double meaning. They first appear in Genesis as symbols of the curse: \u201cCursed is the ground because of you\u2026 It will produce thorns and thistles\u201d (Gen. 3:17\u201318). A symbol of sin, suffering, the burden of toil. But spend time in the garden, and you\u2019ll realize: these aren\u2019t just metaphors. They\u2019re a spiritual discipline in themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Author Virginia Stem Owens once mused that weeding was her way of sharing space with Adam. \u201cWe inhabit the same spiritual space,\u201d she wrote. Anyone who\u2019s knelt in the dirt, fingers aching from tearing Bermuda grass out of strawberries, knows this truth intimately. Christ\u2019s parables about the wheat and the tares come alive with every tug and pull.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Saint Augustine saw even weeds as part of God\u2019s good creation, a paradoxical gift meant to discipline us. Charles Spurgeon, in an 1893 sermon, went further: weeds were God\u2019s mercy. The Fall could have been worse. Rather than striking Adam, the curse glanced off and hit the ground. A metaphorical kindness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Weeds, Spurgeon said, are not only in our gardens but everywhere: in social systems, in our families, in ourselves. They grow without our invitation. Even our best intentions can\u2019t stop them. \u201cAll the prudence and care, ay, and all the prayer and faith\u2026 will not keep you clear of these thorns and thistles.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The biblical imagery of weeds is rich and layered. In Micah, the wicked are likened to briers. In Ezekiel, rebellious people are thorns. Jesus compared false prophets to thistles. And when He explained the parable of the sower, He said thorns represent \u201cthe worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth.\u201d Even the crown Christ bore was woven of thorns\u2014a physical manifestation of sin\u2019s curse placed on the Redeemer\u2019s head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But here’s a twist. While Scripture teaches us to see thorns as sin\u2019s offspring, history\u2014and horticulture\u2014show us that sometimes, the thorny invader isn\u2019t our fault. Or is it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The idea of \u201cinvasive species\u201d is newer than we think. The phrase may have appeared first in a British colonial journal in 1891. Yet long before that, explorers like Charles Darwin were encountering thickets of invasive thistle and artichoke in Argentina so dense \u201cnothing else can now live.\u201d These were seeds that crossed oceans without anyone\u2019s blessing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Today, Europe hosts over 7000 non-native species. Not all are evil. But when they start to disrupt ecosystems, spread wildly, or harm native life, we call them invasive. The line between \u201cweed\u201d and \u201cwonder\u201d is thin. A plant in the wrong place, even if beautiful, can be destructive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What\u2019s true in botany is true in theology? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some modern voices, l, have weaponized the language of weeds and invasions, applying it to immigration and moral panic. The metaphor turned dangerous casting human beings, often fleeing hardship, as invaders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But Scripture doesn\u2019t play that game. God warns Cain about sin \u201ccrouching at your door\u201d\u2014not in someone else, but in his own heart. Jesus tells the Pharisees that evil comes not from outside but from within. Spurgeon urged his listeners to look for the thistles in their own<\/em> hearts, not someone else\u2019s backyard. Many of these species arrived through no evil intent. One came as packing material. Others were ornamental imports. No villainous gardener plotted their spread. But now, we fight them all the same.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Matthew Henry, a prominent 18th-century commentator, warned against exotic plants as signs of vanity. He saw Israel\u2019s \u201cimported vines\u201d as spiritual compromise\u2014a desire to be like other nations. To him, foreign flora mirrored foreign desires.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But not all theologians feared variety. Martin Luther, in contrast, requested \u201cmany different varieties\u201d of seeds for his garden. The issue isn\u2019t difference\u2014it\u2019s displacement. It\u2019s not that foreign things are bad, but that in uprooting the good gifts we\u2019ve been given, we often make a mess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Botanist Jim Varick, stewarding 60 forested, puts it more gently. He and his wife have spent two decades battling garlic mustard and stilt grass. They aren\u2019t trying to save the world. Just restore what God has entrusted to them. And when they cleared out bush honeysuckle, wildflowers bloomed again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n We pull weeds not because we expect a weed-free world, but because we were made to tend the garden. Christ\u2019s parable reminds us that the weeds will be sorted later\u2014our job, in the meantime, is to be wheat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Invasive plants aren’t a foreign army at the gate. It\u2019s a seed already in the soil. But even in a cursed ground, something beautiful can grow. That\u2019s the hope of spring. That\u2019s the promise of the gospel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So this year, as you tug at thistles, remember: it\u2019s not just gardening. It\u2019s spiritual formation. And every weed pulled is one more reminder of the work still to be done\u2014in the world, and in our hearts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Philemon <\/p>\n\n\n\n Adapted from the original by Andy Olsen<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Chapter 14 \u201cInstead, they will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.\u201d Isaiah 61:3 (NIV) Spring creeps in like a whisper\u2014days grow longer, light lingers on soil that’s just beginning to thaw. Gardeners rejoice, but with the flowers come the thorns. Not just the literal kind, … <\/p>\n