The vinedresser is never nearer the canes than when he is pruning them. David Jeremiah, writer
Here in Wine Country, with harvest long past and having shed their leaves, the crazy-auntie-looking vines are being meticulously pruned. The shorn vines now go to “sleep.” However, other things, vital things, are at work during this season. Vetch and fava beans and mustard are often planted between vine rows. Weeks later, they are discd into the soil to work their magic with specific nutrients for vine health.
Mustard, while appearing throughout our county in broad fields of brilliant yellow, is also a hardworking cover crop:
- It suppresses parasites that harm vine roots.
- As it decomposes, it releases phosphorus and nitrogen, which promote healthy vines.
- It helps wth soil retention, improving overall soil health and root strength
In his wonderful book, A Vineyard Year, Joseph Novitski writes,
Pruning is the only time of year when the grower looks closely at each vine in turn, seeing the marks of disease or malnutrition, and noting the need for a stake here, new ties there.
The result? Sixty thousand acres of vines standing bare-naked in midwinter light. It is the season of total exposure. Now the vines enter a period of rest.
Throughout the ages, Christ-followers have understood the need for times of spiritual solitude. We, of course, don’t live in the “ages”—we live in the “now”, in an accelerated pace of life with our devices, a 24-hour news cycle, and technology advancing, it seems, at the speed of light.
And, right on time, the Lenten season arrives. To make space in our lives, to sit for a while in mindful silence, allowing the Holy Spirit time to minister—that is the challenge. Let’s be honest: a truly distraction-free space has to be intentionally created. And in our social media-saturated culture, we all know what “distraction-free” really means.
In her devotional for Lent, Holy Solitude, Heidi Haverkamp reminds us:
Choosing time alone, with little stimulation or distraction, can reveal things of Christ to us that we otherwise don’t hear or see.
She adds that one of the hardest things about practicing solitude as a spiritual discipline is—can you believe it?—enduring yourself. When we step aside, turn off the noise, and be alone with God, it may get a little uncomfortable. Why? “Sometimes,” she says, “the self is a burden.”
In deliberate silence, with no devices or to-do lists or snacks, but only the Word and that spiritual hunger, the Holy Spirit can minister to us in those thin places and make us strong. Emotions such as fear, anger, or regret may surface. Then what? Here is David’s experience in Psalm 94:19:
When my troubling thoughts multiply within me,
Your consolations comfort my soul (TLV).
One commentator calls it the “branching of thoughts.” We all know the feeling of anxiety “branching’ into our very being.” The consoling work of the Holy Spirit can prune those nutrient-sapping canes. There is great benefit in being willing to sit exposed under the tender eye of God in this season that anticipates Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection.
All seasons of life vary in their demands. This has always been true. What is also true is that the things upon which we place the most value get priority. Carving out time, setting aside time—whatever it takes. Like Jesus:
So He Himself often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed (Luke 5:16 NKJV)
His work in us in those precious moments will produce health, comfort, and relief. This is a wondrous thing. And remember: After pruning, the vines rest.
You, too.