You know you’ve arrived when you live in a mansion. Fortunately, I actually had the opportunity to do just that. Now, I know you’re thinking, “Glamorous!” or maybe something more along the lines of, “Spoiled jerk!” But either way, I assure you, it’s not what you think.
It was that time. You know, the time in every musician’s life when he has to move out of his mom’s house and grow up (go ahead, insert your best musician joke here). At first, words like domain, kingdom, empire, monarch, and potentate flooded the man-center of my brian. (ok, I looked up that last one in a thesaurus) To be the chieftain of my own chateau, the king of my own castle, the ruler of my own domain. This was my calling.
But where would I find such a place of my own? Just my luck, one of the maintenance supervisors at my church was looking to rent out his place.
So, five of my friends and I banded together and decided we would partition our newly acquired territory according to our pecuniary share. Of course, our venue would need a name. One that would be recognized throughout the land as a title of honor and valor.
Being located on Village Road, we considered calling it “the Village.” But think about that for a second. What would six men living in “the Village” be called?…exactly. Mockery was far too accessible. And if people were going to hurl insults, I’d prefer they at least work for it. (If you are still unsure as to what I am referring, Google “six men the Village” and read the first Wikipedia article that shows)
As usual, my friend Dan - a man with the agility of a cheetah and the intellect of… well, a really smart guy - had a better idea.
“Why not call it ‘the Mansion?’” he inquired.
Our house was nice, but it was certainly no mansion. So, not understanding his angle, I doubtfully replied, “Umm… I’ll think about it.”
To which, after dishearteningly shaking his head (as was often the case), he responded, “No. Get it?... The Mansion?”
“Dan… You’re a genius!” I declared.
That was the name we chose and that was the title we wore proudly. “The Mansion.” (I told you it wasn’t what you were thinking)
Lucky me. Not every fledgling who’s been thrust from the nest lands on such a platform of nobility. This was the life of luxury! Soon enough, the Mansion would be hub to a bustling social scene of which we would be the stars.
More importantly, we thought, foolish as it was, that freedom - true, defemininitized freedom - was within our grasp. No one to tell us how or when to clean our bedrooms nor our bodies. No pilfering bandits to rob us of our finest garments. No sneaky operatives to investigate our private matters. No nagging agents to impose a ban on nocturnalistic tendencies. No one to stand in our egotistical, self-serving, filthy way. Whatever we did or didn’t want to do were our decisions to be made. Nevertheless, such “pros” inevitably had their cons.
With the overall hormonal balance tipping way to the testosterone side - as in any citadel under the command of six single guys - chores were demoted to a status of mere triviality and chillaxin’ was the new priority. Soon enough, the trash turned into a radioactive landfill, the landscape a weed-filled jungle more dense than the Amazon, and the sink a breeding ground of evolutionary digression. To any sensible person, it would have been deemed a hazard zone, but to us, it was our Mansion; Nay, it was our Empire.
As with any great kingdom, however, war was inevitable. HOA’s declarations flooded our landlord’s desk concerning their plot to overthrow us. Claiming that our topography was unsuitable to their sophisticated standards, they sought to bankrupt our humble economy by way of fees and fines.
In all honesty, our landscape had become quite the travesty. I’m just surprised that the smell didn’t get to them first.
Even still, for the sake of our pride, we wanted to fight them, and would have too, but were advised that HOA was far too formidable a foe and would surely take us down. It was either we battled the weeds, or we battled them. So, the weeds it was.
I, bare-backed and bare-handed, faced the botanical onslaught like a true man. No five-minute-every-five-minute breaks to sip on passion fruit iced tea. No hired help to do my dirty work for me. And most of all, no sunscreen to shield my epidermis (a decision I duly regretted for the following week). It was just me against the multitude of weeds.
Infantry flooded forth as if the gates of Hades itself had burst open. I could see their eyes. They taunted me, but with overestimated confidence. Their sneering lives were soon cut short as my fist plunged into their shallow bellies, ripping them clean out of the ground.
Knowing full well that their individual strength was no match for this warrior - as Napoleon Dynamite verses King Leonidas - they strategized to wear me out instead with sheer numbers. Our months of stalling the battles made for one fierce war. The hours seemed like days. But I would not relent until victory was mine.
Flanking me with moderately rooted artillery too extensive for my bare hands, it was time I brought out weaponry of my own. I grabbed a small shovel and rake and resumed my conquest. The hoards charged with weapons drawn, knowing all efforts were suicidal. Each direction I turned, they slammed into me like kamikazes. I fought on, but their numbers were wearing me down. The sun proving to be their ally as it relentlessly beat on my back.
Aware that their numbers were running low - but thinking they might have a true shot this time - they sent in their brutes. With roots deeper and more burly than any yet, these monsters were trained in the art of standing their ground and annihilating all who would dare tread upon it. It was time to break out the big guns. Lucky for me, I carry two at all times. Their training had made for a staggering fight, but after firing round after round of pick axes and hedge clippers into their very souls, they too were vanquished.
After five and a half hours of grueling war, a stillness filled the air.
“Could this finally be the end?” I thought, wearily drained from battle. But not wanting to portray any sign of weakness, I exclaimed “Is that all you’ve got!?!?” in a tone like Braveheart while beating my chest like King Kong.
There I stood, looking down over their remains with my head raised high. I breathed in the scent of triumph. My chlorophyll-stained hands were finally able to relax. Victory was mine.
At least for the front yard, anyway.
Thinking back on the battle, I learned six allegorical lessons that day. Six lessons that stemmed from a war against weeds but apply to the war that wages in our very own daily lives.
Six Lessons in Gardening a Mansion:
1) Do you know what it takes to get a yard full of weeds? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
It’s really easy to get weeds to grow. You can, as we did, just go about your business and sure enough it will happen. The nature of weeds is to do just that, grow and grow and grow. Though no one wants it this way, if left untended, they will take root anywhere they can and inevitably invade and consume the entirety of your landscape.
Go ahead. Try it. I dare you…
2) You don’t notice the weeds until it’s time to pull them or until someone calls them out.
We walked by that terrain every single day - multiple times even - and never noticed that things were getting out of hand.
Upon hearing of the HOA’s letters, one of the guys even exclaimed, “What!?!? That’s ridiculous! First, it’s not their business. Second, they can’t even see the backyard unless they’re snooping - which should be a punishable offense. And third, it’s not even that bad… I’ll bet it was one of our nosey neighbors who’s just trying to cause trouble.”
But do you see how ridiculous his statements were? First, it is their business - their only matter of business, in fact. Second, it wasn’t just the backyard; it was the back, sides, and front too. And even if it were, the bushes were growing way above the fence line. I assure you, no snooping was necessary. And third, it was in fact that bad.
The problem was not that the HOA was “pointing the finger,” but rather, it was our faulty perspective and unwillingness to see the issues that caused so much trouble for them and us.
But it wasn’t until the HOA pointed out the problem, threatened us with fines, and we had to pull the weeds that we noticed how bad it had actually become.
3) Different weeds have various root lengths, and it takes intentionality and varying amounts of effort to get to the bottom of each.
All of us experience weeds in our lives - and if you haven’t, you don’t exist; you are a figment of your own imagination. We’ve all been effected, and are effected, by weeds.
Weeds take on various forms and can be introduced in a variety of ways. Even still, a weed is a weed is weed, and needs to be uprooted and dealt with as such.
Some weeds’ roots are shallow and you can pull them out with your pinky toe. Others need a bit of unearthing with your hand or a small shovel. And still, some are so deep that you need an industrial drill, a mountain of dynamite, and Paul Bunion to do the job. What happens if you don’t get to the actual roots of weeds? They come back - often times like they never left.
Furthermore, some weeds that I thought were stand-alone would reveal, once I pulled on them, that they were actually connected to a whole host of others via a vast labyrinth of underground roots.
4) In order for a healthy garden to flourish, the weeds must be dealt with.
Weeds consume nutrients, time, and sunlight, that could instead be used to cultivate a thriving, beautiful garden. In essence, weeds choke out that which is healthy.
So, if you want a healthy garden, you must clear out the weeds.
5) Weeding is hard work, but it’s worth the effort.
As anyone who’s pulled weeds before can attest, weeding takes hard work. It takes time, energy, intentionality, and if you’re anything like me, a sunburn six layers deep.
But in the end, to behold a garden that is freshly hewn and ready to ascend to the apex of its potential - to have a vibrant, healthy garden free from harm - it’s well worth the effort.
6) Keeping your garden free from weeds takes regular maintenance.
Pretty self explanatory, eh?;)
The trouble is, many people don’t take the time and effort necessary to deal with their weeds. Sadly, their gardens are overrun by them and are unable to flourish because of it.
This is the part where you might ask, “Ok. Cool story… kinda. But what does all this overdramatized weeding business have to do with me?” I’ll spell it out for you.
Analogy Spelled-Out
In this story, the weeds are analogous for our sin and/or the effects of other’s sin in our lives, a healthy garden is analogous for a healthy life, the war on weeds is analogous for the war we face in dealing with our own “weeds,” and the mansion is analogous for a bachelor pad.
1) Do you know what it takes to get a life full of sin? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
You can, as I often have, go about your business and sure enough it will happen. Our sin nature wants to grow and grow and grow. And though no one wants it to be this way, if left unattended, it will take root anywhere it can and inevitably invade and consume your life.
This time, I don’t dare you.
2) Sometimes, you don’t notice the effects of sin until it’s time to deal with them or until someone calls them out.
You might walk around with your “garden full of weeds” every day. And it might not be until someone else calls it out or you get to the point where your life has become so overrun that you have no choice but to deal with them.
When either happens, you have a choice to make. You can either have an arrogant attitude like the guy in my story and try to push the blame and responsibility off on other people. Or you can take the humble approach and use it as an opportunity to examine yourself and, thus, grow in a positive way.
It wasn’t because the HOA or our landlord wanted to hurt or insult us that they pointed out the issues; rather, it was because we needed to address them for the best interest of everyone involved, including ourselves.
The problem is often not that someone is “pointing the finger,” but rather, it is our faulty perspective and unwillingness to see the issues that hold us back from ever really addressing them.
**Note #1: Just because someone is pointing the finger doesn’t automatically make them right. I understand there are many out there who are treated unfairly and are excessively criticized. Take time to examine yourself and be confident in who God has made you to be, while also being humble enough to know when you do need transformation. We all will encounter both.
**Note #2: Just because someone is pointing the finger doesn’t automatically make them wrong either.
3) Different weeds have different root lengths, and it takes varying amounts of effort and intentionality to get to the bottom of each.
If you’ve read my blog posts entitled, “Setting the Stage,” you know about some of the weeds that are in my garden. As I mentioned, weeds can be either the effects of our own sin or they can be the effects of how others’ sin has impacted our lives. Some of my weeds are simply my own sinful tendencies. Some were planted by my father’s death and the following changes that took place in my family, but they are, nevertheless, still my weeds to pull.
Maybe your weeds take form via the sins of selfishness, pride, lust, laziness, or a variety of others. Maybe they are a result of someone else’s sin that now effects you, such as bitterness from being treated unfairly, insecurities from when your self image was shattered by maliciousness, fear of rejection or abandonment from when someone who you thought loved you walked out, hate from being bullied, or a variety of others. If you’re anything like me, or the other 100% of the earth’s population, it’s a combination of both.
Some of our issues are pretty shallow and we just need a slight adjustment. But others, as most of them are, run incredibly deep. So deep, in fact, that we don’t even recognize it until we start digging. And some issues that we think are stand-alone, actually prove to be connected to a host of other, deeper issues once we start tugging.
In the past year or so, I’ve noticed that many of my weeds are much deeper than I thought and, thus, take much greater effort and intentionality to unearth and deal with. Trust me, my garden is still packed with them, but as I put forth the effort, I find myself in a healthier and healthier place. My encouragement? So can you.
4) In order for our lives to flourish, our weeds must be dealt with.
In the “garden” of our lives, our weeds consume nutrients, time, and energy, that could instead be used to cultivate a thriving, healthy life. So, in order to make room for such, we must be intentional about clearing out our weeds.
5) Weeding is hard work, but it’s worth the effort.
As those who have been honest with themselves can attest, weeding takes hard work. It’s not easy admitting that you are in need of transformation. It’s also not easy diving into some issues that often bring up intense feelings of woundedness, pain, loss, and more.
But in the end, to behold a life that is freshly hewn and ready to ascend to the apex of its potential - to have a vibrant, healthy life free from harmful effects of sin - it’s well worth the effort.
6) Keeping your life free from the effects of sin takes regular maintenance.
Pretty self explanatory, eh? The trouble is, many people don’t take the time and effort necessary to deal with their issues. Sadly, their lives are overrun by the effects of sin and, consequently, they are unable to flourish.
I hope that neither you nor I are that kind of person. I pray we can live lives that have been freed to flourish to the summit of our God-given potential.
As this war ensues in your life, as you face the multitude of weeds in your garden, and when you are drained from battle wondering if it will ever end, remember this, my friend, victory is ours. The war has already been won.
