Just for the record, I run when the sheers come out of the holster. I see Him coming with them. Walking my way. I think, “look at the fruit here…isn’t it big? isn’t it enough?” But He sees what my vine eyes can’t. He sees potential. He sees the “even more” life He has for me.
“And every branch that is grape-bearing He prunes back so it will bear even more” (John 15, The Message).
If I told you the truth it’d be this: I want to skip the process. The cutting. The surgery.
I want to pack up and move directly to Park Avenue and the Boardwalk and, there, set up my Monopoly mansion. Somehow I have been convinced that life is there. Sitting tight with a latte in hand and feet on a designer ottoman.
Yet, this is life. Now. Living in the process; in the tension. My not-yet-home life. My I’d-rather-not-have-you-prune-me-but-I’ll-trust-you life. If I told you the truth, it’d also be this: I want to experience the “even more” kind of life even more than I want comfort. (Did I really just say that?)
So I choose to remain. Here. When I don’t know what The Pruner is doing. When I don’t understand why He’s doing what He’s doing. (Tomorrow will you remind me I said this?)