Peace with our Gardener

Pursuing a posture of peace with the One who cares for us

“Sing about a fruitful vineyard:

I, the Lord am its keeper; every moment I water it. I guard it night and day so that no one can harm it; I have no wrath.

If it gives me thorns and briers, I will march to battle against it. I will burn it up

or else let it cling to me for protection

let it make peace with me, let it make peace with me.”

Isaiah 27:2-5

One summer when I was in college, some friends of mine and our mentor-friend in Christ decided to read through the prophetic writings together. In the spirit of the heavy and moving Robin Williams film, we dubbed this time together, “The Dead Prophets Society.”

If you’ve not seen The Dead Poet’s Society, there is a moment where one character reads a Henry David Thoreau quote, which became the driving force for the tone of our time spent each week pouring over the words of God’s prophets:

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately; I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”

We met each week that summer–devouring and discussing God’s word. We met for hours most weeks, as the prophets’ expression of God’s heart, judgement, and hope drew out our own reflections on the unique paths of life each one of us was on.

Today, more than 10 years later, I am again reading the words of these prophets who so inspired my friends and I to suck all the marrow out of life and am now finding even more meaning and encouragement than my 20-year old self had the capacity for.

The passage quoted earlier caught in my throat this weekend as I penned it in my journal, and then read it aloud to my husband.

The rhythm of Isaiah’s prophecies, particularly in the first third of the book is a dance between judgement and hope–a reminder to the reader that God is serious about His covenant with His people, and that his character is such that He will keep moving His story forward to redemption from brokenness.

This verse is one such moment when the dance shifts from judgement to hope, but it’s not a rainbows and sunshine outlook. In this verse, the aching heart of God shines through even as he expresses his ultimate desire to “have no wrath.” I can almost hear the reluctant “if” statement, tone falling to present the likely caveat of his precious vineyard bringing forth thistles rather than the anticipated and intended fruit.

And then, as if unwilling to settle there, God’s word to Isaiah moves again to a wistful hope–unless.

The master gardener pleads with His vineyard with double emphasis: “Let it make peace with me, let it make peace with me.” In his good and precious vineyard, there is no place for thorns and thistles–it’s not what it was meant for–and if he must, this good and gentle gardener will do battle with these vines of his until there is fruit or the vine is no more.

But this struggle and strife is not the gardener’s preferred method of dealing with the unfruitful vineyard. Instead, the master gardener longs for his precious and cared for vines to cling to him for protection and make peace with him–for their sake as much as his.

I don’t know how your pursuit of Christ is going today. I’m not sure if you’re motivated, like my friends and I all those years ago, to suck all the marrow out of life; or if, perhaps you’re feeling weary of the guilt-cycle that can be so prevalent in our spiritual formation journey. Maybe you’re encouraged; or maybe you’re wondering what weight the gospel carries when you left your car window open through last night’s rain storm and spilled your coffee on your custom Bible cover, and are now looking at the pile of dishes and laundry on this Monday morning (hi, hello… it’s me).

Wherever you are in your walk this morning, whether your vineyard feels full of fruit or littered with thorns and briers, I hope this verse serves as a reminder that God is your master gardener. He supplies you with all that you need. And, best of all, he does not wish to battle against you as he prunes away the thorns and briers. He longs to be your protector, and to be at peace with you.

A Prayer to the Master Gardener

Father,

I take this moment to pause and reflect on your good and constant provision today and every day. As I reflect, I ask your Spirit to call to mind moments in this day where you were watering your vineyard, guarding it. Help me to connect to your goodwill toward me.

pause for reflection

Father, I take this moment to ache with you for the broken patterns that exist within my heart, within my family, and within my community. I struggle under the weight of these thorns and briers–and though they are familiar to me, I know in my spirit that they are not meant to be here in your good kingdom. Please reveal to me in this moment of reflection the thorns and briers you are tending to in my life and community today.

pause for reflection

Precious Gardener, thank you for caring enough about this vineyard to rid it of what is not meant to be. I connect in this moment to you, and acknowledge the fear I have of letting go of these familiar, if broken, patterns. I take this moment to reflect on the connection I have to these thorns and briers, and consider how those attachments create strife and conflict in my relationship with you.

pause for reflection

Lord of Hope, I choose in this moment to release my grip on control, understanding, comfort, security, and striving; and choose instead to cling to you for protection as you prune what never was meant for me. I lay down my attachment to my thorns and briers, surrender my posture of defense, and move to a posture of peace with you.

pause for reflection; moving your body in any way that helps the posture of your heart shift, too.

I finish this time of reflective prayer connecting to your breath of life which flows through me, and ask that you reveal any additional insights that may help me embrace this posture of peace with you in the rest of this day and week.

spend the next few minutes in still reflection, carefully focusing on your inhale and exhale. Use the word “peace” as your anchoring word–if you notice your mind wandering, call your anchoring word to mind and continue listening.

Amen.