Once the temperatures drop and the first leaf hits the ground, I can be found with a leaf blower in my hand most every afternoon. You could say I am meticulous about the way my yard looks, much preferring order and precision over the mass of leaf litter. But I am curious as to why I like to see the lush, green grass underneath. Why is it that I hate watching leaves accumulate on the lawn overnight? Why is it that I take such care to sweep away the sticky pine straw and bag up the yellow and brown foliage? What does this tell me about my spiritual habits? Can I at all connect this to my life in Christ?
And while maintaining my yard, these questions bounced around my mind until it seemed as if the leaves themselves told the answers. Apart from the fact that leaf blowing is cheaper than therapy, here are 5 ways your leaf-laden yard will point you to the Lord, who is sovereign over all--even over where every leaf settles to the the hard ground below.
WE LUST AFTER LEAVES
We all drool over the change from summer's monotonous leafy green to autumn's rusty, contrasting glow. We find ourselves nearly lusting after the leaves hanging just out of our reach. When they fall to the ground, they collect and finally make real contact with our lives. But the color wanes and we are left with muddied tones that don't satisfy. The leaves meet us with potential destruction. Rain creates the perfect condition for sliding cars atop wet pine straw. Leaf piles host garden pests that sting and bite. A blanket of leaves masks the real dangers lurking underneath. In great masses they are a fire hazard and cause building materials to decompose.
Something that at first glance tantalizes the senses, only disappoints us when we finally grab hold of it.So often this is like sin in our life. The appealing, deceptively appetizing and beautiful leaf of sin hangs just out of reach, but when we stare at it long enough, we know eventually we will fall. What so easily enticed us from afar now destroys us as we draw near. It hides the real danger of death, deceiving us, and with it, the seeds of sin take root and produce even more sin.
LEAVES HINDER GROWTH
Tolerate a thick blanket of poplar, oak, maple, and gum leaves all winter and you will be set back with seeing a green lawn in the spring. Sure, some grass will survive the wet carpet of leaves, but once the sun shines and the turf comes out of dormancy, what's viable will be choked out and opportunistic weeds will thrive. Come spring time when the first robin chirps and the dogwood buds, it becomes obvious who has paid any amount of attention to their yard. If nothing was done with the passing of time, the growth or lack thereof, will be evident.
If I refuse to remove the leaves from my lawn, or rather if I neglect repenting of the sin I've fallen into, chosen to walk with, relished to sit with, this raises a number of questions; nonetheless, where there is no repentance, there is no growth. Where there is no growth, there is no fruit. Where there is no fruit, there is no salvation. The harvest of righteousness will be evidence one way or the other. Removing the leaves every day gives my lawn full access to the sun it needs to produce. Likewise, repenting of my sin gives me a right relationship with God through the Son of Righteousness.
ALL LEAVES ROT
And doesn't matter if deciduous or coniferous leaves cascade into your yard. They all rot. They all decompose. They all return to the ground they were grown in.
And to some extent, it doesn't matter the size, kind, type of sin you commit. It
will kill you. Destroy you. And send you to the ground you once walked.
But it doesn't have to be like this. The Lord is the master Gardener, the ultimate Landscaper, the True Vine, the Branch of Righteousness. He can give you a new yard. A new lawn of a heart. A freshly aerated and seeded yard lush with green carpet. But when the leaves fall and we find ourselves content with a leafy lawn, will we blow the leaves off this new plot? Will we resist the rottenness that grows because of sin? Will we bear fruit in repenting?
LEAVES ARE HEAVY
Have you ever tried to carry a black bag full of fallen leaves? Heavy isn't it? A single leaf isn't all that impressive, but combined with thousands of its twins the weight is substantial. They are burdensome to carry, and after 3 days of strong winds sending the leaves to their demise, a leaf blower runs out of gas before the yard is cleared. More effort, more work, more pain, more sweat, more gas is needed. It feels impossible, hopeless, better off just letting the grass die. Yet we know that's a lie, but when there are several layers on top of each other, even the leaf blower struggles to move the leaves away.
So why can you find me every afternoon with a leaf blower in hand? Because I'm obsessive and my dad taught me to find beauty in landscaping? Partly yes. But mainly because the removal of leaves today makes tomorrow's removal bearable. The weight of sin is unendurable. Even as a believer who is positionally righteous before God because of Christ's righteousness on my behalf, my present sin hinders the close fellowship, the intimacy, the communion with the Father not because He removes his hand of mercy, but because I choose to pile my sin like a pile of leaves. And while I stand justified, I am still being sanctified as every leaf falls.
A STRONG TEMPEST IS COMING
We know from experience that winter is coming. The leaves will fall to the ground and the trees will stand bare and exposed. The wind will be bitter and the water will freeze. We may get a blustery snowstorm and be without power for days. Icicles could hang by the foot off the gutters. And while autumn requires a different sort of care than a white winter, I blow the leaves every day because I know what is coming. I can see there are still leaves on the trees, but without warning, the trees will be bare overnight and coat the ground. The leaves won't hang there much longer. I can not stop it, they will fall.
And I know seasons of trial and triumph; pain and progress; struggle and success; discomfort and delight are coming. I can not stop it. And every day I need the discipline of staying near to the heart of God because I know how prone I am to let the leaves pile up in my heart, consume me, rot my love for Christ, and block out the warmth of Son of God. The toil of life is here, and it will promisingly come season after season. I must be disciplined now for the moments when picking up my leaf blower, or picking up my Bible, seems impossible. I must be faithful to tend to my heart and obey the Lord's good commands. In the Lord's strength, I carry the leaf blower day after day because in the Christian life that is what picking up your cross looks like.
One day we won't suffer with the falling leaves of sin in our life. One day the bags and piles will be burned away forever and only green pastures will remain. But until then, may your life, your home, your neighborhood be ripe with the dull, laborious hum of leaf blowers, of healthy green yards, of repentance, of bearing good fruit, of growing in holiness, of staying near to Christ. But if you have to choose between a physically healthy front yard or a spiritually healthy heart, always choose the latter. All metaphors will break down, even this one, but look to Jesus. You will always find him faithful.
