The Grand Pruning
The Grand Pruning
Peri Wiebe
While I had never been a proper gardener, I had a genuine desire to be one. At the outset of last year, the Lord brought me back to a familiar passage in John 15, where Jesus tells his disciples that He is the true vine and that God, the Father, is the gardener who cuts back branches to allow for more growth. So, in light of this ‘pruning’ mantra and the new-found free time that quarantine warranted, I took to the dirt and planted a vegetable garden. As I tilled the empty ground of the previous home to our 15-ft blue spruce tree, I admit I was skeptical about whether anything else could actually grow in its place.
The message I had often gleaned from the John 15 pericope was the importance of remaining in Christ, so that He will remain in me; a beautiful picture of reciprocal love. But as I read this in the early days of 2020, the nuances of pruning resonated deeper within me. Jesus says that, “He,” the gardener, “cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and He prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more.” (John 15:2) This verse, and its elusive meaning was what I brought with me into the following months.
My first lesson as a rookie-gardener was that as long as the seeds received water and sun, they knew what to do; they simply knew know how to grow. I planted a variety of vegetables but learned the most from the zucchini. To my surprise, every seed that was planted grew, creating a thick green blanket in my garden. But as my zucchini grew, I failed to pre-emptively cut back the surplus of crowded leaves. As a result, they became moldy, inhibiting the zucchini from their full-sized potential. Pruning the already developed and seemingly ‘good’ and healthy leaves seemed slightly ruthless to me. But that’s the role of the gardener.
In contrast to this, I have come to learn about the ways plants and organisms within forest ecosystems manage growth on their own. These living things can grow and adapt to what is around them, without an omnipotent gardener aiding to yield an abundant harvest.
Panarchy Theory—a theory used to describe complex socio-ecological systems pioneered by ecologist Buzz Holling—explains the growth cycle of a biome. As ecosystems grow together, they adapt together. For example, the process of nitrogen-fixing bacteria embodies a consistent cycle that helps to maintain ideal chemical concentrations that create a balance for all surrounding forest life. These interconnecting organisms catapult an ecosystem into a successful growth phase, one that is resilient to disturbances and able to bounce back after a shock, like a powerful windstorm or a drought.
But this growth phase within an ecosystem, where each organism thrives in its specific roles, cannot go on forever. Panarchy Theory outlines that over time, the connectedness of a system like this will result in diminishing returns that reduce the capacity for a forest to stand up to a shock. Because of the narrowed role of each organism, the finely-tuned forest becomes an accident waiting to happen, where in the event of one spark, a wildfire could drive calamity.
The grand pruning process, you could say.
With the interconnectedness of our global society, a spread of a virulent disease drove the calamity we have all experienced this year. I don’t think connection is bad, but what we are experiencing, in part, are the growing pains of togetherness. When a forest fire destroys a ‘good’ and thriving forest, it creates space for growth to happen again in that same place. A snowstorm took down our blue spruce tree, which allowed for a garden to grow in its place. This causes me to think of what sorts of things will grow in place and as a result of the pruning that happened this year.
The thing about pruning is the implication towards the ongoing and natural process of growth. Pruning implies the importance of viewing the whole, instead of one branch. Had I effectively pruned my zucchini leaves, the plant as a whole could have thrived and produced more juicy zucchinis.
Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing writes about the powerful life force of a forest beyond when the point when growth has been tampered with, she says:
“One of the most miraculous things about forests is that they sometimes grow back after they have been destroyed. We might think of this as resilience, or as ecological remediation, and I find these concepts useful. But what if we pushed even further by thinking through resurgence? Resurgence is the force of the life of the forest, its ability to spread its seeds and roots and runners to reclaim places that have been deforested. Glaciers, volcanoes, and fires have been some of the challenges forests have answered with resurgence.” (Tsing, p. 179)
By definition, resurgence is about coming back to life after a period of inactivity or change. Resurgence is welcomed after disruption. I think as humans, no matter the year; circumstances will forever and always affect our growth. As we are cut back, pruned by set-backs, by challenge and by the need to find new ways of accomplishing what is familiar, we are being shaped. I believe pruning provides for even greater flourishing.
It’s almost as though Christ knows our abilities to adapt; that in the same way He invites us into a reciprocal relationship of remaining fixed to the vine. He invites us also towards a reciprocal burying of self. With the allowance to be snapped and broken, He gives way to deeper wholeness and opportunity to experience the resurgence that could not have otherwise been witnessed without the pruning. He is a relentless gardener, one who sees the unsuccessful moldy leaves that tamper with the growth of eventual fruit.
In James, God is also referred to as a gardener to describe the landscaping work of the Father. “In simple humility, let our gardener, God, landscape you with the Word, making a salvation-garden of your life” (James 1:21). Being landscaped by the Father is a picture of submission. Through the gardener’s guiding hands we have the capacity to grow beyond what could have hindered our growth. The gardener expedites our opportunity for resurgence and embodies what a flourishing life with Him could look like.
It is interesting what a year of pruning can bring about. I see it as character development, a joy-ride with Christ that is remarkably bumpy. I did not eagerly anticipate this season that the Lord welcomed me into, and I’m not entirely convinced it’s one I’m in the clear of quite yet. But just as a gardener returns each year to their garden, I believe the Lord will continue the pruning process in me. Cutting back that which He wishes wasn’t growing, in order to draw out that which He sees as ‘good.’
Peri Wiebe
Writer & Student
Photography by Philipp Pillz