Stinging burns through my inner arm. A towel dabs the scraps after our family has been working.
The pain rings loud. Bright, shining, red, like becoming scars.
And I can’t believe it’s been seven years since we pulled out the ladder, made our way up and chopped off the dangling embers, letting light greet us.
The thing about evergreens is, over time, you don’t notice their loafing branches, their conifer cedars draping and drooping over where the sun had once shined brilliantly.
The darkness comes slowly as these limbs quietly, unnoticed, start blocking the autumn sky…
And I think, sometimes we think sin is like some black wall, suddenly blocking the light…
But, I wonder if instead, it’s the slow, wild, unnoticed overgrowth of our own hearts, the draping of our own souls, over time, that unknowingly blind us from His light?
My husband, once manicured, now takes his two-decade-old calloused hands and snatches the red clippers. Pulling, pushing, twisting the branches to get the right angle…
It’s all about getting more light.
I use the smaller ladder on our Japanese pear tree, joining him in another part of the property…
Because when pruning happens willingly, it can be contagious, addicting. And before you know it, many have brought in the light, opened up the sky, seemingly effortlessly, while loving people beside them.
Our youngest pulls a branch by tying a rope to it and pulling with all of her might.
A little while later, she uses that same rope and ties the wheelbarrow to her bicycle and rides…
A whole wheelbarrow of limbs, behind her.
“This is fun. Work can be fun.” She smiles, and seems to think this laboring is a game.
And I am reminded of “the fall”, and how God gave us work, bringing us back to Him…
How the fall wasn’t a way of ostracizing us from God, but a call, announcing we would just now need to join in His work, overcome sin, and labor for what He wanted.
“Ya, this IS kind of fun”, I shoot back at this child who is just beginning to 
learn that life is won when we cut out the darkness and let His light shoot in.
My heart floods as I look at her t-shirt, joining the soul-cry of generations begging, “Abba, Father.”
Our matching white t-shirts, have written in bold letters. “Bread, cookies, muffins…supporting orphans.”
The most humble couple sent them, all the way from Chi*a.
And I think about the organization we went to last February where aged-out, disabled girls bake to earn proceeds, self-sufficiency, building confidence in a home with surrogate parents…
But, I am reminded how even they, after working, often chose to sacrificially give their money to help pay for the surgeries of younger orphaned children…
Those coming behind them needing…a chance to see the light.
And how, when we know WHOSE we belong to, the labor becomes easy. The striving isn’t just for us to find light, but creates a passion to pour light through us…to another who is needy.
I see that word, “Orphan” on our t-shirts, and yet know, my daughter and I no longer fit that description…
Therefore, this work now of cutting branches, isn’t really just an act, but a holy experience, this being part of a family…
Laboring for the light, a call, not a duty…
A branch crashes to the ground. My husband blazes the chainsaw, bringing in even more light, more quickly.
I shout, “Look at the sun shining through, it’s beautiful.”
Sun blazing as if it’s summer, though a darker season is coming soon.
Yet, when the Son shines, time stops. And the ones you work hard for, eyes fixed to His promise, flood your heart with joy for your journey.
We start low, and work higher. The cedars must be twisted and turned, pulled down, a
nd ripped from the sky…
Like some of the branches of our own lives, which don’t surrender easy.
My six-foot-four son reaches with his long arms, and tugs on many.
Another falls. I rejoice at each one, cut from it’s energy, laying lifeless, giving way to open sky above. Because….
Any light getting through is always worth celebrating.
My husband shares as He rises higher, like the angels in Jacob’s vision of heaven…
We must be careful. Many have cut a limb, and that very same limb spun around and removed the very ladder they were standing on.
Many have been made broken, and even killed, their hope of finding light becoming dim after getting injured from cutting away towards the light…
Because who knows? Fighting for light CAN can painful…
Still, it is still always worth the journey.
It can leave pain and suffering, scars like those on my inner arm I was dabbing with a clothe in hopes to stop the stinging…
And yet devastatingly, too many quit because…
True Christianity is never easy.
Some run from the grace cuttings because the pain of dragging the cedars of our very own heart often ring with pain…
And too often in our country, we want a religion where someone else has to do the work. A religion where we can just stand back and look, after the labor is over…
We want to say words and hope the light burns the cedars of our souls down, without us even confessing, or pressing into Him, or laying out our very depths of being for Him to use us, like He wanted.
I jump in joy like a teenager, when I see the open field finally covered in light.
Not missing His beauty, failing to taste and see His goodness, really acknowledge the impenetrable recipe of hard work and love.
Our boxer watches as if giving us directions, the Father teaches his son, our family works together in joy and uni-some…
And in a day of division, labors of love bind us.
Greater tasks and missions can be accomplished when we see ourselves as a unite, instead of sole survivors or individuals.
And I had heard it over and over multiple times in the past few months. God’s whispers, here, as well as, here…
Through our home Bible Study, “Rooted”, as well as in a book I am reading, “The Justice Calling”…
Lastly, a friend reiterated this promise on Rich Faith Rising’s Facebook page recently.
“Light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it.” ~ John 1:5
And as we press our clippers, cut with saws, and use our arms to rip down these cedars blocking the light…
I realize, God often teaches. But then afterwards? He asks us to live the lessons He has given us.
For learning without lessons, words without action, knowledge without muscles attached to it, often become useless.
And before we know it…
We make a gospel we can stop and look at, instead of one we are really living…
A gospel we
hear about, instead of do, preach of instead of become to the very people around us watching.
And I am thankful for this gospel of tree cutting. This light baring gift in the labor on our five-acres.
I dab the wounds on my left arm when we are finished. And accept them with humility, knowing….
Scars mean we have followed His purposes. Suffering is visible evidence, we have walked in communion with Him…
So, let’s stir up even more faith and press in…
In love and fellowship…
Because what’s important is, long limbs were never meant to blocking…
His light.
We are to light-bearers. Joint-heirs. Laborers for His coming Kingdom…
No more orphans needing earthly parents, but are now His children, with the Good Father standing near us, teaching.
Where is God calling you do today to shine in the darkness? Where might He want you to cut away the branches blackening His goodness?
Let’s grab the tools today, He has given us. And in faith and encouragement…
Let’s start cutting.
His light is shining. Isn’t it time we witness it?
