When I was about six years old, I found a tiny weed poking through the cracks of our sidewalk in a futile attempt to become a full-grown tree. Due to my disproportionate interest in the doomed weed, my parents transplanted the small tree into a pot. I named it Emerald. (Yes, I named a tree. We all have our less-than-flattering childhood moments, don't we?) It was an evergreen tree, so the name "Emerald" fit very well. Emerald stayed in a pot through two moves before we finally transplanted it to our backyard. Today, if you look out our window, you will see an evergreen tree that is halfway in front of our gate. Emerald has grown a lot. What was once a weed in our sidewalk now blocks our gate.
A song by Rich Mullins speaks of how "stuff of earth competes for the allegiance I owe only to the Giver of all good things" (Mullins, "If I Stand"). Every time we give in to sin of any kind, be it pride, or laziness, or bitterness, we water and care for it, strengthening it.
Sometimes you don't even have to care for it, as I did for Emerald. Some of our neighbors had a weed in their front yard. It's now over fifteen feet tall. No longer are they able to pull it out; they'd have to cut it down, leaving a stump to remind them of its presence. When it first appeared, it would have been easy to pluck it out of the ground. Instead of doing that, they ignored it; now they would have to spend hours of hard labor to get it out of their yard.
While it may sound ridiculous for our neighbors to have waited so long, things like this happen faster than you may think. I remember hearing a story about Chuck Swindoll when he was the only member of his family at home. He opened the freezer and found that there was a brand new half-gallon container of his favorite ice cream. He decided to have some. He ate a little bit. And a little more. And a little more. Then he had just a little bit more. Soon he realized that he had eaten the entire half-gallon of ice cream. All of it, in that one sitting! Before you know what's going on, one computer or video game turns into five, ten minutes turns into an hour, one bite of ice cream turns into a half gallon, and one little weed turns into a tree. It happens in the blink of an eye.
There's nothing wrong with transplanting a weed or even naming it (although I admit that naming a tree is a little odd). But what was once cute is now a nuisance, what was once inconsequential now affects anyone who tries to go through our gate. It will take a lot more work to get rid of our bothersome tree than it would have at the beginning. Similarly, it will take a lot more work to kick an ingrained habit than it would to end a habit just beginning. Once we give in to our unhealthy desires, it often seems impossible to root them out. But it is possible. Even though a little deal has turned into a big deal, it is still possible, for "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible" (Matthew 19:26).
