I look forward to my cup of coffee in the morning and a little quiet time before the house wakes, especially this week, as I enjoy it on the back deck of a cabin we’re renting. Our home is currently under renovation, and our family escaped the construction and headed to the mountains. Renting a cabin is more manageable than living on one side of the house with a couple of teenagers and a toddler, which we realized during the first week of the demo.
We are getting new flooring and updating bathrooms, and I realized these projects are messier and noisier than I had anticipated. A few days after the first half of the demo, I walked our house’s concrete floors, and despite the debris, things already felt a little fresher. Our home is almost 20 years old and was a rental property until we bought it. A revolving door of families, and the carpets showed it. So did the showers and baths; the walls and floors looked dirty even when freshly cleaned.
We thought we’d be moving to a new state this summer, but instead, we’re using the money we had saved for a down payment on a new home to renovate the house we thought we were leaving. We wanted to move and anticipated the kind of change that felt exciting, but instead, we are experiencing the type of refresh that feels needed—within the walls of our home and outside them.
I’m not a gardener; I can barely keep houseplants alive, but until recently, I thought of pruning as gentle, a word that sounds prettier than what it is. The construction zone that we were living in makes me think pruning is sometimes more like demolition. A little destruction makes things feel fresh again, even if it looks like concrete floors and exposed plumbing covered in dust, destroying the stained carpet and shower walls for something more appealing.
Once chipped away and the layers pulled back, the potential is more clear.
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit” (John 15:1-2 ESV).
So often, we think we are bearing fruit in our lives, but sometimes we need a spiritual renovation too. We might genuinely desire to live for the Lord, spend time in prayer, and our hearts may even be in the right place. Yet our inward thoughts and desires don’t always match what others see on the outside. We might long for a godly marriage but not prioritize the relationship with our spouse. We might pray for our kids but fail to meet their needs. We might read our Bibles but not learn anything new about God’s character.
While there is grace, there’s also a gardener who guides.
The word prune in John 15:2 means “to cleanse” in the original Greek. God not only prunes but also ensures maximum production. Pruning doesn’t just occur because we aren’t showing any fruit. It helps us bear more, especially when our interior doesn’t match our exterior.
I’m beyond grateful and feel blessed to be able to renovate our house, but this isn’t what our family hoped for this summer. But I sense God moving even though we aren’t. I feel He’s removing branches and getting rid of the old, revealing areas where more fruit is needed. Even when trying to live intentionally, pruning reveals areas with more fruit to be had. And while there is grace, there’s also a gardener who guides.
Sarah Nichols is a writer who loves encouraging women by sharing hope-filled stories that point others to Jesus. She lives in Tucson, AZ, with her husband and four kids. You can find more from Sarah at http://sarahnicholswrites.com.
