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  • Writer's pictureAddison Crissone

The Gardener

As I was walking home the other day, I witnessed an old man patiently working in his garden. He bent on stiff knees, plucking the weeds away from the flowers, and venturing to prune the stray limbs of his fruit trees.

The Gardener, as he was called, is old and stooped, his scraggly beard is long, and his silver spectacles are perched on the bridge of his nose.

He shuffles to his Garden gate and invites me in.

“Come, Friend, come in.” He calls.

I obey his call, stepping inside the gate, to behold a beautiful garden filled with every flower imaginable.

The Gardener smiles at me, and bends gently over his flowers.

With knobby, nimble fingers, he begins to pluck the naughty weeds from amongst the handsome flowers, until the weeds are gone and the flowers are free.

He then stands and gazes at his work.

He smiles at me.

“I think it’s good.” He says.

And, for some reason I cannot explain, I feel as if he were speaking of not only his garden, but of me, too. As if he had considered me bad, but now he was satisfied and called me good.

“What do you mean?” I ask, shaking my head.

He gives me a knowing look.

“I mean that with a little pruning and pulling, something ugly and dirty can become quite beautiful, as with my garden. And as with you.”

He paused to look at me.

“Welcome to my Garden.”


Friend, the gardener in my story, is like Jesus.

He beckons us all to his Heavenly Gate, asking us each to make the choice.

Like the Gardener, He will pluck the weeds from the blossoms, He will take the sin from our souls.

He will prune the dead from the living, He will separate the good from the bad.

But the Father is calling.

He invites us each into his Heavenly Garden.

And He is calling your name.


Will you listen?

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