I grew up on five acres in the country.  When we first arrived, there was not a single thing on the land, but during my childhood some fences were erected. The property hosts a rather long driveway, and on each side, a pasture.  At the time we needed an enclosure to keep the horses and the cows contained. I was not more than six years old when the fences started going up, but I clearly remember helping to build them.  They worked very well at that time of my life, but now it is close to 50 years later and there hasn’t been a need to contain a beast in many years.  Yet the fence remained.

It was a field fence with posts every six feet or so, and wire stretched between the posts and nailed on.  Along the top was a row of barbed wire, a rather painful deterrent for anyone, or any thing, trying to get over it.

Recently I found myself dwelling on the property of my past and the longer I looked, the more I could see that there were things obstructing my view. So I began clearing the debris. Trees were pruned and brush was removed, overgrown flower beds were cleaned and new plants were sunk into the soil. It was really hard work.  And it took some time, as there was no rushing the process.  But over the months I began to see a clearer picture and was really enjoying the freedom of the open view.

But as I let my eyes scan over the property, something kept catching my eye.  Grass and weeds had grown in and around and through the wire of the fence, and no matter how close I mowed or how long I spent with the weed-eater, it was impossible to remove the unwanted creepers.  The weeds were the problem, but it was the fence that allowed them an opportunity to grow.

It was then that I realized that some of the barriers that had been constructed in my past no longer served a purpose, yet the structures remained, altering my view in the present.

They needed to come down.

And so the real work began. It was not possible to pry the nails from the posts, so each section of fencing had to be cut at every square on each end. It was tedious work.  Snipping the wire resulted in sharp pieces of metal just looking for something to gouge, and my flesh felt the stabbing pain of piercing over and over again.

In some places, the posts and the wire lifted rather easily out of the ground, but I found as I got closer to the beginning of the drive that the weeds had grown so thick that the fencing had actually been pulled under the ground.  It took a lot of intention and digging to free that buried part of the barricade, but I stuck with it, and before too long, I found myself pulling out the last piece of wire remaining. I was exhausted. I was exhilarated. And I am pretty sure I mixed a few tears with my sweat.

I walked back to my front porch, turned around to gaze at my new landscape and saw that my entire view had changed—it was free and unobstructed. And it was worth every bit of the sweat and tears to get that perspective.

That was two years ago, and to this day, no weeds grow along the path where the fence used to be. I would encourage you to take a look at your past, and see if you are mowing around fences that you no longer need. If your view of life is obstructed by the weeds of abuse, insecurity, abandonment, or the need to control, they will remain until you remove the thing to which they cling. These can be fences you’ve built, or ones that someone built for you. We tend to erect fences to keep things out, but others build them to keep you in. Regardless of who actually dug the post holes, fences that no longer serve a purpose need to be torn down, because their presence affects you and those around you more than you realize. The tools needed for the dismantling vary from confession to forgiveness to prayer and Freedom classes or small groups. If you need help taking that first step, reach out to me and we can navigate it together.

You know, that day that I pulled out that last piece of buried wire, I took a long well-deserved shower, had a bite to eat, and then once again made my way to the front porch to gaze at my view.  I wasn’t there but a minute when I noticed a rainbow at the end of the drive.

A rainbow.

God’s promise.

It is for freedom that Christ set you free – Gal 5:1

Sounds like a promise to me.