Sometimes a scar on a tree comes from the careful hands of a gardener - removing an unhealthy branch to protect the tree or pruning a healthy branch to shape the tree to fit the gardener's plan for it. However, at other times, a scar on a tree is left by careless action or unloving intent.

We all have scars in our lives. And if you don't yet, you will. It's the result of living in a broken and sinful world. But when that scar comes from the church, it often feels more painful. 

When a preacher's words become weapons ruthlessly used to tear you down, when things told in confidence spreads throughout the church, or when disagreements become a personal vendetta -  it cuts deeper.

Why?

Because church is to be a place of mutual encouragement (Heb. 10:24-25), building one another up in the faith (1 Thess. 5:11), and care (Heb. 12:12).

Church Hurt Is Real

Church hurt is real and happens far more than some would like to admit.

The wound can be deeply painful, leaving a scar that may fade but never fully disappear. It is life changing and,  if not properly treated, can move even grounded Christians to take a long break from church.

Not all suffering sanctifies. Some can cause spiritual infection - often in the form of bitterness, anger, jealousy, or even apathy.

Those who dismiss the hesitation people feel about joining another church after being hurt, often fail to consider the emotional turmoil a person or couple has experienced. 

My Experience

I know this pain.

I've experienced it more than once - some cuts harsher than others. Yet through Christ's mercy, I have managed to endure and begun to heal.

Healing is slow. I still catch my mind wanting to dwell on the hurt.

I can't undo what others have done; I can only continue to heal from it. 

The conversation I want to have is not about my hurt -  but my healing.

Choosing The Path Of Healing

I want to encourage you to live in the present while focusing on healing from the past.

Like a tree which has been carelessly cut, none of us can undo the wrong that's been done. However, each of us can choose God's healing care and press on in a way that glorifies Him while still acknowledging the hurt.

What is that way?

As I have considered my own journey, and reflected on the scriptures, this is the path I see.

A Path Toward Healing

1. Distinguish truth from lies.
Hurt causes us to be disillusioned and vulnerable to believing lies from the enemy. Our emotions can distort our perception of what happened. We must process what has happened and separate the truth from lies. God's Word is your compass here.

2. Remember that God's people don't always reflect God.
Don't blame God for something He didn't do.

3. Lament what has happened.
Cry out to God. Share your pain with him, for He cares for you.

4. Remember the goodness of God and the gospel.
Jesus experienced betrayal and opposition from those close to him. He understands your hurt. Furthermore, your identity is not rooted in what others have said or thought about you, but in what God has already declared to be true. 

5. Surround yourself with godly people that you trust and can provide good counsel.
Self-pity and self-loathing happens more often when we are isolated and have only our thoughts to counsel us. We need trusted believers who can speak truth into our lives. 

6. Forgive your offender.
Forgiveness and repentance are both needed for reconciliation, but reconciliation may never happen for your offender may never apologize. Regardless, in your heart there should be a willingness to forgive your offender. This heart attitude releases us from the bondage of resentment, bitterness and anger. A restored relationship will need repentance from the offender and a mutual effort of trust-building.

7. Accept that healing takes time.
Though the wound may fade it may never truly disappear. Don't be discouraged if,  when years later, you still need to guard your heart against bitterness from what happened. 
 
8. Take time - but return to meeting with God's people.

I believe that these points require more attention than just a brief summary, and I plan to expand on them in future posts.  So stay tuned for that! For now, let this encourage you to reflect on your own journey and consider your path toward healing.

Scars may remain - but by God's grace, they do not have to define us. 

It's fall, and I'm loving the colours all around me. But the colours are signs telling us that the plants are preparing for dormancy - a season which appears to be a time of inactivity, but in reality, is just a change in activity. Dormancy is not death. It is a shift in how life expresses itself - a quiet season of preparation for what comes next.

During these times, the focus is no longer on outward growth but on strengthening roots and forming buds - developing what will be needed for the next stage of life. But is this how it appears? No. Oftentimes, we see it as a time of decline. Of loss. It looks like nothing is happening at all. 

A Spiritual Parallel

In the Christian life, we have seasons of dormancy. Times when, after being active in ministry and displaying some beautiful fruit, we are “put on the shelf”. Consider Joseph - faithful in Potiphar's house, yet falsely accused of a crime and thrown into prison (Genesis 39). This may have looked like failure, but to God, it was preparation. 

This truth is not simply theological to me; it's personal.
I've walked this stage of life, and in some ways I still am. 

Let me share a bit of my story. 
I share this not for sympathy, but to help you see God’s purpose in this season.

My Story

Nine years ago, after graduating from seminary with honours, I began full-time pastoral ministry. A few months after our wedding, my wife and I packed our things and moved from Alberta to Nova Scotia, where I had been called to pastor a church in the Annapolis Valley. For three years, I poured myself into ministering to the congregation - preaching, teaching, counselling members, visiting, and leading. People were learning and growing, and there had been positive affirmation. 

But all this came to an end.  

A division arose over the Lord’s Supper: the board believed that anyone could take it, whereas I believed it was for believers only (1 Corinthians 11:17-34). This rift grew deeper and could not be resolved. Two months after my daughter was born, they released me.

For a few months, I was kept waiting until I was called to lead a church in Manitoba. This was during the 2020 crisis, but I tried to serve as best as I could while being hindered by government restrictions. But soon, another division surfaced—this time over whether the church should remain open. I held firmly that the church should remain open to all who want to come (Hebrews 10:24-25). Because there was no cohesion in the council, and having thought I had failed to minister well, I stepped out of the ministry altogether and moved back to Nova Scotia. 

No longer was I pastoring. Instead, God graciously gave me an office job. 

I went from a pastor to a receptionist. 
No more preaching.
No more leading people in worship.
No more visiting or counselling. 

Though I was grateful for a job and a place to live, my life seemed to fade from colour to bleakness. It was a quiet, colourless season - a time when everything familiar had been stripped away.

Like a tree in winter - I felt bare.

The Weight of Dormancy

Have you been there?

It's a season which can be deeply discouraging - when it feels as if you've failed, as if something has been taken from you, and you have been closed off from purpose.

It's easy at these moments to mistake dormancy for punishment.

I know, because I did.

But these seasons are not God's rejection of you; but his time of preparation for you.

The Gardener knows exactly what He is doing. Beneath the surface, He is doing a hidden work—strengthening roots, shaping character, and deepening faith—so that, like a tree in winter, we will be ready for the life and fruit of the next season He brings.

What God Was Teaching Me

What was it that he was teaching me?

• Patience.
• Commitment.
• Trust.

Three things, no doubt, that Joseph had learned as he waited in prison. Trust is strengthened best when there isn’t really much else to lean on.

In your time of waiting, I dare say that this is what he is teaching you as well.

Dormancy is Still Activity

Does this mean there is nothing to do? No.

Outwardly, it may look like a tree is sleeping, but it's still active.
The work has merely changed for the season.
The aim is the roots and not the foliage.
It’s on those things which give us a stronger foundation and next year's fruit.

For me, that meant...

• Learning the scriptures more deeply.
• Understanding my world better.
• And learning how to disciple my family.

Building blocks I’ve come to use now in my ministry.

Character development is often the work that God is doing in these seasons.
If we try to rush ahead, force opportunities, or let a grumbling attitude cause us to have a stiff neck, we may not learn all that we need for the next stage.

A tree that tries to “wake up” in winter can be damaged by the cold. 

God's Timing Is Perfect

We must remember God’s timing.

Take Joseph in prison, for example. Why did God allow him to be imprisoned? So that he could meet the baker and cupbearer and reveal their dreams, showing that he could interpret dreams rightly.

And why wasn’t he released sooner? Why didn’t the cupbearer immediately vouch for Joseph’s innocence after his own release? Because the timing wasn’t right. Pharaoh first needed to experience the dream of seven good years followed by seven bad years.

God’s timing is never our timing—but it is always perfect.
He knows what we don’t...
and He weaves every delay and every hidden season into His greater purpose.

Dormancy is not death - it is the time of hidden growth. Stay rooted. Trust His timing. Waiting is never wasted when God is in it. Spring will come.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2)
 
Plants don't thrive everywhere they are planted. Sometimes the location is crowded with competing plants. Sometimes, nearby trees and growing plants dim the sunlight. Sometimes a plant simply lands in the wrong location. Whatever the case, there are times when plants are found in places where they will not thrive.
 
In those times, what does a good gardener do? Uproot the plant and relocate it in a place that would benefit it. But the experience is stressful for the plant. The plant droops, leaves start to turn brown, and flowers may fade. It appears at first as if the plant won't survive. But this is all part of the process. 
 
A wise gardener understands that though this relocation may be a bit stressful for the plant, it is for the plant's good that he does it. If the plant stayed where it was, it would wither. However, by moving the plant, the gardener provides it with a great opportunity to thrive. In time, the plant's roots will dig deep into the soil, the foliage will spring back stronger, and the colour will show brighter than it had been. 
 
Just as a gardener relocates plants for their good, the Gardener of the Soul - Yahweh himself (John 15:1) - relocates us for our good. Sometimes he moves us out of places we thought we belonged, out of comfort zones we clung to, out of friendships, jobs, or habits that were stunting our growth. At times, He even leads us into entirely new seasons of life that feel foreign or frightening. Why? So that we may flourish.
 
Consider Abraham, uprooted from Ur, the land of his Father's. He left friends and familiarity, not knowing where he was going, yet trusting the one who led him. Or Ruth, who, through tragedy, was relocated from Moab to Judah - a foreign land. There under God's care, she found provision, blessing and a future she could not have imagined. Or Rahab, whose life of empty pleasures was transformed when she placed her faith in the God of Israel and was transplanted in His people and promises.
 
I have experienced this work of the gardener in my own life. Have you? It can be a shocking and unsettling process - like all plants, there is a season of drooping. A time of testing where our faith wanes, our joy fades, and our footing feels uncertain. In those moments, it is easy to question why we were moved, why life feels uncomfortable or unfamiliar. Yet, even during this stress, we are not abandoned. We are in the careful hands of the Gardener, who tends to us with patience and wisdom.
 
Our Gardener is good, wise and cares deeply for us. Everything he does in our life - even the moments that feel unpleasant - is for our good. As the Bible reminds us, “In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).
 
We may not always understand why the Gardener uproots us, but we can trust His hands. And as we trust him and stay planted in our new place, we will find that eventually our roots grow deeper, our faith grows stronger, and our joy grows brighter. 
 
Perhaps you are in a season of uprooting today? If so, take heart - the Gardener knows what he is doing. His hands are steady. His care is constant. And His desire is not to harm you, but to plant you where you can truly flourish.

Using a garden analogy, to me it feels as though his death has acted like fertilizer spread across the soil—stirring growth, awakening dormant seeds, and pushing life forward in unexpected ways. ​But any gardener knows that fertilizer doesn’t discriminate. It nourishes both the good and the bad. It strengthens fruit-bearing plants, but it also gives weeds a boost. And in the wake of this event, we are already seeing both take root and grow.

The Positive Growth

In the aftermath of Kirk’s passing, I’ve noticed several encouraging developments:

1. The Gospel has been preached boldly. Frank Turek didn’t mince words when he told an audience of millions that we are sinners deserving of judgment and in desperate need of God’s mercy.
2. A growing boldness to share the truth. Faithful Christians have always spoken up, but when one of us is persecuted or killed for speaking the truth, it emboldens others to do the same.
3. New interest in the church. Tragic events often awaken spiritual hunger. Because of Kirk’s death, some are considering attending church for the very first time.
4. Christian character on display. A powerful example of Christian grace has been seen—especially in Mrs. Kirk, whose words of forgiveness toward the killer have sparked discussions about the nature of grace.
5. Renewed cultural and political discussion. The contrast between left and right is once again on display, prompting important conversations across the country.

These are good things to emerge from tragedy. We should indeed rejoice and give thanks for this fruit—especially as Christians—for this is kingdom growth.

The Negative Growth

At the same time, we must not ignore that Charlie’s death has also stirred up troubling developments. Fertilizer doesn’t discriminate. As the good plants are strengthened, so too are the weeds. Here are a few I’ve noticed—perhaps you’ve seen others as well:

1. The influence of unbiblical groups has grown. During Charlie’s ceremony, voices from Catholicism, Hinduism, Judaism, and unorthodox Christian groups like the SDA were given a platform. At first glance, this may appear to be “unity,” but in reality, it is an ecumenical hodgepodge that confuses and misleads. It blurs the sharp lines of truth and risks drawing people away from Christ rather than toward Him.
2. Political idolatry is deepening. For many, Kirk’s death has become a rallying cry—not for Christ, but for political action. Dare I say... a political savior? But no government, no party, and no man can redeem. When we elevate human leaders to that status, we risk planting weeds that choke out the true hope of the gospel.
3. Charlie himself is becoming the rallying point. The movement seems increasingly centered on him, rather than on Christ. Where is Jesus in all of this? Who are we truly following? In some cases, people have even applied Scripture—such as John 12:24, which refers to Jesus—to Charlie. This is eisegesis: twisting the Word of God to serve the memory of a man. At its core, this is nothing less than idolatry.
4. The gospel is being overshadowed. In speeches, posts, and online comments, there is often a blending—even an equating—of the “American dream” with Christ. But Jesus did not die for the American dream. He gave His life to save us from the wrath of God. When the gospel is diluted with political rhetoric, we lose sight of the cross. And if our focus drifts from Christ crucified and risen, then the weeds of distraction will soon overtake the garden.

A Call to Discernment

Yes, Charlie's death seems to have acted like fertilizer, nourishing both the plants and the weeds. Sometimes it's easy to spot the weeds—but at other times, it’s more difficult. What may appear to be a healthy plant can, in reality, be a weed.

What we need, therefore, is discernment—the spiritual wisdom to distinguish not only right from wrong, but right from almost right.

Where do we find this wisdom? From God. He is the source of all wisdom, and He has revealed what is right and wrong in His Word—the Bible. Get to know it well.

In Scripture, we’re given a test—three questions to help us discern:

1. What do they believe and say about Jesus?
2. What is the character and content of their message? Is it worldly, or does it align with the Bible?
3. Who is mainly listening to them—believers or unbelievers?

A Concluding Appeal

In the wake of Charlie Kirk’s death, we’re witnessing both positive and negative growth—things we can praise God for, and things we need to mark, avoid, and root out. Fertilizer doesn’t discriminate. That’s why now, more than ever, we must be rooted in God’s Word and guided by His wisdom.

Open your Bibles. Test everything against it. Pray for discernment. Ask God to show you what to rejoice in and what to reject—in your life, your community, and your world.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

WHEN TRAGEDY STRIKES

I had planned to write a post introducing you to the Gardener of our soul and to share how the skill and character of a gardener directly affect the vitality of a garden. But then tragedy struck. A man I had just begun following online—a husband and father of two—was tragically killed. An intelligent, winsome speaker of truth was shot.

It’s always heartbreaking to hear when someone dies, but for some reason, this one has struck me differently. Perhaps it’s because he was a young Christian man. Or maybe it’s because he spoke truth with a winsome spirit that reflected the character of Christ. It could be because he leaves behind a wife and two young children - and as a father of two myself, my  heart aches for what they may be walking through. Or perhaps it’s because he took a public stand for convictions we shared—faith, freedom, truth, and family—and paid the ultimate price. Whatever the reason, this loss seems to have stung a little more deeply.

Sometimes unexpected tragedy happens, and we are left trying to recover. Have you been there? Perhaps it was the loss of a parent, a brother or sister, a friend, or even a man you never met but only followed online. Grief is universal, yet profoundly personal. We are confronted with the brevity of life and left longing for something that endures beyond death.

THE GARDENER’S CARE

When a life is suddenly cut short, it feels like someone has ripped a branch from a tree or crushed a tender plant. The wound is real, and it needs to heal. And this is where the gardener comes in. He does not ignore the broken branches or trampled plants—he carefully tends to them.

A gardener examines the damage and removes the jagged pieces of the broken branch or torn stems that would prevent healing. He then supports the wounded plant, binds up its wounds, nourishes it, and patiently continues to care for it until new growth emerges.

In much the same way, the Gardener of our soul goes about the work of healing those gripped with grief. He examines our hearts and removes what would poison us with bitterness. He comes alongside us, binding up our broken hearts by reminding us of His promises: that those who belong to Him are with Him after death (John 14:3), and that He will cause all things to work together for the good of those who love Him (Rom. 8:28). He gives us strength to lean on through His Word, prayer, and the counsel of others, so that we may stand. He pours in His living water when we are dry and patiently carries us through seasons of sorrow until, in time, new life begins to grow again.

TRUSTING THE GARDENER

But why would He allow it? Why would a life be cut short, leaving pain in its wake? These questions are not new—they echo through Scripture and through the hearts of the faithful across church history. Sometimes the answers are beyond our understanding. And yet, there is a reason—one known only by the Gardener.

In moments of loss, we are invited to trust in His character rather than demand answers. We trust the Gardener not because we understand all that He does, but because we know His heart. He is loving, wise, and faithful. Grief may leave us raw, but it can also open our hearts to dependence, compassion, and deeper love. Sometimes, in our brokenness, God’s presence becomes more visible—His comfort, His provision, His sustaining strength.

We may never fully understand why some lives are cut short, but we can rest in the promise that the Gardener is faithful. He will bind up the brokenhearted, nourish the weak, and patiently wait as healing takes root. And one day, in ways we cannot yet see, every broken branch will once again flourish by His perfect care.