Week in Review

This ‘n’ That

I love Shasta daisies. They might possibly be one of the happiest flowers I’ve ever seen. I know this—they make me happy.

I’m always so thrilled when they start to bloom in June. They brighten up the whole yard with their cheerful blossoms. But then, inevitably, they begin to fade. Have you ever watched this process? The bright yellow center of the flower begins to slowly turn brown from the outside in. And then the petals droop and reveal their own shade of brown.

Thus begins one of my least-favorite summer chores: deadheading the Shasta daisies. Not only is it a time-consuming practice, I always find it a bit depressing. With each snip of the shears, I feel like I’m losing a piece of summer. The large, beautiful bunches of daisies grow slimmer and I know it’s only a matter of time before I lose all of the precious blooms God gave me that year.

Last week, I fell a bit behind in my deadheading responsibilities. Between my delay and the rain, I found myself spending far longer on this activity than anticipated. But as I snipped away at each fading flower, I was reminded of the necessity of such pruning activities.

You see, even though I am losing many of the first initial flowers, there are more waiting to open. Deadheading those dead blossoms makes room for new blooms and growth that might not be as visible if I left the dried, faded blooms on their stems.

We all know the Lord prunes us as we grow in our walk of faith to look more and more like His Son. We’ve all felt those effects. Pruning is rarely comfortable, but it’s necessary and so worth it in the end. And while deadheading daisies isn’t the same as pruning a fruit tree, I think you can see the parallel here, however weak the metaphor may be.

And yet, even if I were to deadhead every single failing flower, there would still come a time in early fall when there would be no promise of new blooms. The Shasta daisies will lie dormant for the winter, waiting for the promise of new life in the spring. So, with each snip of the shears, I am further reminded that “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever” (Isaiah 40:8, BSB). Our Lord speaks through His creation—boldly and beautifully—but He speaks eternally and perfectly through His great and glorious Word. What a gift!

Okay, enough flower talk. Grab a glass of sweet tea and sit back and enjoy your week in review (kind of):

  • Thoughts on Jesus as Prophet, Priest, and King.
  • Thirteen cups of tea a day? That might be a bit much, even for me, but I don’t really want to live to be 107 years old anyway.
  • Here’s your dose of adorable for this week.
  • This blog post from Alistair Begg on 5 nonessentials of the Christian faith is helpful, but I encourage you to listen to the entire sermon that’s linked at the end of the article.

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.

John 15:1-2 (NIV84)
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