My dad used to grow roses. For a time he was part of the Jackson Perkins experimental rose growing program. They periodically would send him roses to grow and report on. I can't begin to recount how many roses we had growing in our yard. Of course we had more than one bed. And as the number of roses he grew increased, often my dad often tagged the household slaves (also known as his boys) to help with the planting, pruning, digging, and especially the clean up.
My dad gave us special training on how to care for the roses. He showed us how to prepare the beds, the soil, the plants for planting. We had to make sure the right mixture of dirt, peat and nutrients surrounded the roots. We'd spread out the roots a little, trim back the branches a little to force new growth, stick the plant in the ground at the perfect depth, backfill and water.
Once the rose was in the ground and growing, we had to keep a sharp eye on the plants. My dad taught us that once the rose bloomed, we were to trim that stem back behind the first five leaves. He also taught us that instead of allowing the rose to produce a candelabra effect of multiple blooms on the same stem, we were to trim back the lesser buds allowing only one bud to bloom. Both prunings were to allow for a bigger, healthier, more vibrant bloom.
Today's hybrid roses are actually grafted onto the base of a wild rose. The wild rose root system is hardier than the many special and colorful breeds of today. My dad cautioned us to be sure to trim off any branch growing from below the graft. If not done, the wild rose would take over and the hybrid would die.
Jesus said that God is the master gardener. He prunes us from time to time to shape us, grow us, develop us, make us stronger and more productive for the Kingdom and simply as human beings. Occasionally a wild branch shoots from our old, human nature that God has to trim off. His discipline isn't always pleasant, but necessary to keep up conforming into the image of His Son.
God, I'm just an old wild rose, full of thorns. There's not a lot of beauty in my life. But thanks for pruning off the old me and grafting on your glory. I want to bloom for you. I want people to see just what you've done in my life. I confess, I don't always like your discipline, your pruning, but I want to be productive. Trim off my wild shoots. Keep me pruned to where I can give you the most glory.
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