Will the Roses Bloom Again?

     My husband and I enjoy growing roses, inhaling their fragrance, and beholding their beauty bursting out in rich colors. Just recently, now that winter has made its debut, we went to the toolshed and pulled out the pruning shears. The annual cutting commenced. It’s our habit to prune the wooden branches back deeply. We prune so that we enjoy their beauty, their proliferation once more in the spring after they sink into dormancy during the cold months.

     We are not experts so it’s good to know it’s hard to kill roses with pruning, even when cut back close to the ground. Pruning our roses creates a sense of expectation for us, knowing we have something to look forward to when the buds begin to form again in the spring. In our lives though, pruning can create a sense of frustration, even desperation. Sometimes, when John 15:2 manifests in our lives, we don’t recognize the process as pruning. "…and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit.” 
     If the Lord allows something to be removed, corrected, or disciplined it’s easy to become frustrated, angry, or somewhat hopeless.

We indulge in a series of questions and challenges. “Why is this happening to me?” “Lord, I don’t like You delaying answers to my questions.”  “Please! Give me who/what I want.” “Haven’t I matured enough?” “Aren’t You pleased with my life?” 
     In my times of questioning and challenge, it’s a good idea to remind myself that God has not forgotten me. He’s not leaving me alone to grow into a wild, untrained rose bush that could eventually become useless. He wants me to be as fruitful as possible in my life here on earth. Yet, the barrenness, the sense of stuck-ness that I perceive as negative, in His hands is what I call a “productive dormancy.” A time to go underground so to speak. To look inward asking the Lord to make use of it. It’s easy to wonder if the Master Gardner has walked away from my life. It’s where life may appear to be meaningless, but much is happening in the spirit often unseen or unrecognized for what it is. A time of pruning. A time of waiting. A time of hope when nothing appears on the horizon.

     Then a time comes when the pruning pain and the outward deadness begins to transform little by little. A sprig of hope here. A tiny bud there. The sun shines brighter, and the warmth creates an unfolding rose. Then I realize once again, that the pruning has a purpose. It’s painful, yet like the rosebushes, the pruning has not killed me. The Lord never let go. I’m embracing a deeper trust. Knowing the strength of endurance. I’m basking in the realization that the Master Gardner was there all along; invisible yet attentive even when I did not sense His presence or His purposes. 

     And like the roses of spring, my life and my time of pruning passes. Song of Solomon 2:11 is now a reality. “See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.”

     Yes, no matter how often the Lord prunes us, the roses bloom again under our Master Gardner’s skillful, wise Hands.