The past three days, my team has been working in a field, digging out roots of tree stumps in order to allow for newly planted trees to grow healthy and tall.
Yes, this work was just as metaphorical for us as much as it was literal.
The tree farm is at the bottom of a volcano making the soil dense. Like, walk three steps and get three pounds of mud stuck to your shoe, dense. That is, if your shoe doesn’t come off in the mud to begin with.
Because this soil is so rich it’s the perfect place to plant a tree farm for missionaries needing a sustainable way to employ recovering drug and alcohol addicts who are new christians learning about grace and freedom. Unfortunately for these farmers, the rich soil also offers a perfect place for unwanted plants to grow healthy and strong.
Here is some context for us city folk..Lord knows I needed the explanation for sure. The problem with these unwanted plants is that they grow wild and fast, sucking up the water and dominating other root systems underground. The workers have been cutting down the visible problem (leaves and trees above ground) for the past few years.
The issue with this approach is the plants may be gone and look great when scanning the open field, but the root is still there, growing bigger and stronger, taking over the underground systems, being bullies and steam rollin’ all those healthy plants just trying to survive, ya know?
The farmer explained this as he handed each person on my team an axe, pick-axe, shovel, and gloves. We walked around searching among the rows of baby planted trees, and weeds looking for the specific plant that needed to be removed.
Here in lies the real issue. Well, for me at least. I could not, and I repeat, I could not recognize these bad boys among the other non-dangerous weeds. (It wasn’t until the end of day three that I even found one on my own). For someone that is attentive to detail, it was very frustrating.
The first morning I was emotionally drained from the previous day. Walking in a field of weeds, being told some green was bad, and some green is good was the last place I wanted to be. Especially when fighting back tears of brokenness, pain and hurt. I was seriously dreading the day ahead when I felt God whisper to me:
“This is what I am doing in your life, Marsha. Let me get to the root of the issue. Stop cutting down the outside problem and walking away. I want to HEAL you. I am digging the very ROOTS out of your life. It’s painful. It hurts. But it will set you FREE. Free to use the rich soil I have given you to harvest more than you can even imagine. To give you a sustainable, joyous, free life.”
I heard Him loud and clear. And I couldn’t fight it, nor could I fight the tears.
Because I know it’s truer than true. God doesn’t just want me to cut down and hide the issue so my life looks good on the outside. He wants to get to the root so He can heal me of my pain and hurt. Heal me of my insecurities. Heal me of my doubts, fears, and shame.
And just like on the field, I could not have done that work without my team. I literally could not have recognized that plant on the field. Without my team, I would have been wandering aimlessly amongst green bush and weeds, not knowing what needed to be taken out or left alone. Much like my life, I can’t see my issues without the people walking alongside me, pointing out areas that need to be dug up. They are helping shape me by pointing out hard things in my life I can’t see or simply want to avoid altogether. They walk the field of life with me, pick up the axe and shovel when I am too tired to continue digging, all the while, encouraging me, while we dig deeper together.
Friends and family ask how the race is going. My race is much like life on the field. Hot. Dirty. Rough. Hard. Emotional. Confusing. Draining and stretching… but rewarding all the while. Because the very satisfaction that comes when a root we worked so hard to remove is out, there is true celebration.
Sometimes that looks like a team of goons dancing in the middle of a field in Nicaragua.
And sometimes that looks like Christ dancing with us in celebration of His son or daughter finding freedom and healing.
