I had weeded here and there throughout my childhood, of course, but I'll never forget the weeds I stumbled upon while working my way through the rows of the corn crop. The corn was just beginning to grow and as I hunkered down next to a stalk to paw through the dirt, I glanced over and noticed that a weed had wound itself around the helpless plant. I began pulling at the bottom and had to unwrap the weed from the stalk, around and around and around and around. When I finally unraveled the entire weed, it was huge. Long. It was hard to believe that it was barely noticeable at first glance whilst wrapped around the stalk. I saw for the first time in a very blatant way how weeds "choke" plants. It isn't just a figure of speech--they actually strangle.
Strange as it seems, I found myself getting really ticked off at that weed. I mean, it was kind of horrific when you think about it: A silent killer that slowly wraps itself around its prey until that prey dies. I mean, seriously! Sure, it was just a weed, but it had overtaken that entire corn stalk. It just sickened me, really.
Now that we've moved to a bit more land, I've done my fair share of weeding. And every time I reach down to snatch a weed from our landscaping out front, I can't help but remember my time up North and my first real encounter with weeds. Even though I can't see the weed wrapping around the plants like I could with the corn stalk, I know that's what's happening under the surface of the soil, which is why the removal of the roots is the key to eliminating the weed effectively.
I totally understand, now, the frustration of recurring sin and its similarity to weeds. For me, it's insecurity. Insecurity in how I raise my kids, how I look, the kind of wife I am, the kind of friend I am, the list goes on. And even when I think I have everything under control, I know that, beneath the surface, the attack still wages on.
And, really, that's the tricky thing with weeds. Even after they are gone and the surface of the soil is clean and smooth, their reappearance is inevitable. Weeds come back again and again because they are wild and it's what they do. You can't hate a weed for serving its purpose. So, you prevent. You lay down good soil and a barrier and you stay on guard. At the first sign of a weed, you snatch and spray and return to your post, ready to pounce. When I've prayed, sought godly counsel, and spent time reading Scripture, my insecurities begin to pale. I'm on guard. But when I let that guard down, I'm amazed at how quickly they spring up again.
I hope this doesn't seem like too cheesy of a comparison, but it's just a poignant one for me that I wanted to share with you. It's kind of where I'm at right now. And I want to encourage you to be on your guard today--that you will choose to bask in God's goodness and love, rather than fall prey to the disarming lie of sin.
That's all. Have a lovely day, friends.