"She (the Holy Spirit) handed Mack a shovel, rake, scythe, and a pair of gloves and floated out and down a particularly overgrown path that seemed to go in the general direction of the far end of the garden. Along the way, she (the Holy Spirit) would occasionally slow to touch this plant or that flower, all the while humming that haunting tune that Mack had been captivated by the evening before. He followed obediently, carrying the tools he had been given and trying to keep her in sight while wondering at his surroundings.

‘Mackenzie’, she pointed out directly at the incredible purple and yellow patch. ‘I would like your help clearing this entire plot of ground. There is something very special that I want plant here tomorrow, and we need to get it ready.’ She looked at Mack and reached for the scythe.

‘You can’t be serious? This is so gorgeous and in such a secluded spot.’ But Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) didn’t seem to notice. Without further explanation, she turned and began destroying the artistic display of flowers. She cut cleanly, seemingly without any effort. Mack shrugged, donned his gloves, and began raking into piles the havok she was wreaking. He struggled to keep up. It might not be a strain for her, but for him it was labour. Twenty minutes later the plants were all cut off at the roots, and the plant looked like a wound in the garden. Mack’s forearms were etched with cut marks from the branches he had piled in one spot. He was out of breath and sweating, glad to be finished. Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) stood over the plot, examining her handiwork.

‘Isn’t this exhilarating?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been exhilarated in better ways,’ Mack retorted sarcastically.

‘Oh, Mackenzie, if you only knew. It’s not the work, but the purpose that makes it special. And,’ she smiled at him, ‘it’s the only kind I do.’

Obviously the short break, which had been for Mack’s sake, was over and Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) thrust a hand shovel at Mack, picking up the rake. ‘To prepare this ground, we must dig up the roots of all the wonderful growth that was here. It is hard work, but well worth it. If the roots are not here, then they cannot do what comes naturally and harm the seed we will plant.’

‘Okay,’ Mack grunted as they both got down on their knees alongside the freshly cleared plot. Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) was somehow able to reach deep under the ground and find the ends of the roots, bringing them effortlessly to the surface. She left the shorter ones for Mack, who used the hand shovel to dig under and pull them up. They then shook the dirt from the roots and threw them onto one of the piles that Mack had earlier raked together.

‘I’ll burn those later,’ she said.

She (the Holy Spirit) turned to him. ‘Mackenzie, you are such a delight! Thank-you for all your hard work!’

‘I didn’t do that much, really,’ he apologized. ‘I mean, look at this mess.’ His gaze moved over the garden that surrounded them. ‘But it is really beautiful, and full of you, Sarayu (the Holy Spirit). Even though it seems like lots of work still needs to be done, I feel strangely at home and comfortable here.’

The two looked at each other and grinned.

Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) stepped toward him until she had invaded his personal space. ‘And well you should, Mackenzie, because this garden is your soul. This mess is you! Together, you and I, we have been working with a purpose in your heart. And it is wild and beautiful and perfectly in process. To you it seems like a mess, but to me, I see a perfect pattern emerging and growing and alive – a living fractal.’

The impact of her words almost crumbled all of Mack’s reserve. He looked again at their garden – his garden – and it really was a mess, but incredible and wonderful at the same time. And beyond that, Papa (Abba Father) was here and Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) loved the mess. It was almost too much to comprehend and once again his carefully guarded emotions threatened to spill over.

‘Mackenzie, Jesus would like to take you for a walk, if you want to go. I’ll pack a picnic lunch in case you get a little hungry.’”

A truly beautiful picture of John 15:1-17 given to us by William P. Young who gave us The Shack. God the Father the Gardener with pruning sheers in His hand. The Holy Spirit doing the work of the Father, and Jesus the true Vine.

I believe this picture gives many of us hope as we do feel we are being pruned right now. Pruned to bear fruit! Pruned by our Good Father who loves us.