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The morning was a typical New England fall morning: crisp and sweet. I was two days in to my 7 day campout in the woods with a group of more than 20 teens. For our solo time, God took me up the dry creek bed. God seemed to like that spot. I noticed that He had called 3 or 4 other teens to spots close to this one. As I sat down with my back to a tree I quietly asked God to speak to me in this quiet wood.

At first, I have to admit, I didn’t hear anything. Than, He leaned in and whispered, “Take a look at those three saplings right in front of you.” I looked. They were all clearly the child-offspring of the larger tree of the same type immediately behind them. Two of the saplings were vibrant and green. Yet the third’s leaves were browning. I wondered what caused two to thrive and the third to brown.

I realized, as I looked and mused, that the larger tree was replacing himself, preparing for his eventual demise. As I considered this I spied another tree in the grove. Old. Long dead, but still standing. Almost as if to defiantly say, “I still have a few good days left in me!” But, did he? All of his limbs were gone. No leaves, of course. What good was he?

“Look at the forest floor,” God interrupted, quietly. So, I looked. It was comprised of sticks, twigs, branches, leaves, and logs…all in different stages of decay. Giving life, even in death. Without looking, I knew what I would find beneath the top layer of clammy, decaying leaves: white fungi, worms, bugs; rich, dark soil, teaming with life.

I wondered how God selects which trees need to feed the forest and which ones to be fed.

God whispered, again, “Aren’t you glad you aren’t the gardener of this forest?!” And just like that, He was gone. He had had the last word…again. Timely. Profound. And exactly what I needed to hear.

I stood up and walked back to the campfire. And when everyone had gathered, I shared the above story with this confession: “I tend to heavily manage my landscape.” I go through and prune all the trees, and cart away all the branches because I can’t stand to see the forest a mess. Yet, my management leaves the forest devoid of what it needs most.

God’s way of gardening may be messy, but it turns out that it is healthiest for the ecosystem.

Matthew, Chapter 20: “²⁵ Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. ²⁶ Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, ²⁷ and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— ²⁸ just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” “

After I had had this quiet chat with God, and before I had run off to the fire, I opened my Bible and read the above passage. I realized that I, too often, heavily manage the landscape of my life and ministry. I can get a little bossy and heavy-handed. I don’t like to see a mess, so I go around trying to straighten everybody up. But, is that really my role? Or am I doing God’s? God’s method may not be as neat and tidy as my own. But, it is healthier for the ecosystem. Maybe He knows better than I. Just maybe.

As I return from the woods, I am challenged, by quiet whispers on the wind, to give God more control over my life, and the people in it.

How about you. Do you find yourself trying to be the gardener of your life? Picking this habit to prune and that one to leave? How do we test the soil of our lives to determine how to manage our garden? Yet, God knows just what to prune and when to prune it, and how to amend the soil to nurture us to the best version of ourselves that He can imagine.

Maybe you are a leader. Do you trust God with the people He has entrusted you to lead? Or do you, like me far-too-often, try to heavily manage the landscape of your leadership? It is a fine balance: wielding our influence for positive change and trusting God to wield His in others’ lives. Trust the Holy Spirit to not only guide you, but also to guide those close to you.

Perhaps we go around and try to pick up all the broken pieces of our emotionally shattered hearts: “can’t leave a mess!” we hear, shouted at us from the chaos. Maybe, those broken pieces are what feed us, heal us, nourish…and, maybe not just us…maybe our mess nourishes another hurting soul. Somehow God turns ashes into beauty.

What Is God Teaching You From the Forest Floor?