Imagine your heart as a garden. Once, it was vibrant with possibility—vines of hope stretching skyward, soil soft with promise. But over time, thorns slipped in. Not the kind you see, but the kind you feel—jagged wounds from years of hurt. A parent’s rejection, a friend’s betrayal, a moment of being unseen. These thorns took root, and from them grew a vice: hatred. It’s a silent venom, poisoning your family conversations and daily routines. Yet, there’s a Gardener—Jesus—who uproots these thorns and plants charity in their place. Let’s step into this garden and see how He heals.
The Thorns We Carry: Wounds That Whisper Hatred
Hatred doesn’t bloom without cause. It’s the harvest of wounds we’ve buried deep. Maybe it was a childhood sting—your mother’s icy silence when you craved her warmth. Or a teenage scar—a friend’s laughter at your expense, cutting deeper than you’d admit. These moments sink into us, festering. They murmur lies: “You’re not enough. They don’t care.”
In my own garden, I found a thorn from years past. My mother was absent when I longed to spill my young heart. Her attention was always tethered to my older sister instead. I didn’t realize how it twisted me until decades later, when I found myself brushing her off with sarcasm, her frail voice now eager to listen where once it had turned away. Hatred wasn’t just a fleeting outburst—it was a shadow lengthening from a wound I’d left to fester, untended in the soil of my soul.
The Everyday Battlefield: Family Struggles
Just last week, my sweet mother mentioned her friend was coming over and said, “There’s no fruit in the house.” I misheard it as a nag to come home early with groceries, and that old thorn of rejection pierced me—memories of her turning away when I craved her ear. I snapped, “Why don’t you just go get the fruit yourself from the next door shop?” But it wasn’t about fruit; she’d meant for me to order her friend’s favorite ice cream—a treat I arranged quickly, once the sting subsided. It wasn’t just her I was lashing out at; it was the wounded little girl still crying inside me. Hatred festers where wounds lie unhealed.
Jesus, the Gardener: Uprooting Hatred with Charity
But there’s hope. Jesus doesn’t just prune the surface—He digs to the roots. In Matthew 11:28, He beckons, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” He sees the thorns we’ve clutched, the wounds we’ve hidden, and He offers more than relief—He offers restoration. Charity, His love, is the balm that heals and the seed that grows anew.
When I brought my tangled heart to Him, I pictured Him kneeling in my garden, hands steady yet tender. “Let me take this,” He seemed to say, lifting that thorn of rejection. It stung to release it—tears fell as I faced the pain—but then came peace. He planted His love in its place, whispering, “You are enough because I made you.” That’s the power we find when we surrender our wounds to Him.
Rewriting the Story: Steps to Healing and Love
- Face the Thorn
Next time hatred surges—at your spouse’s habits or a family slight—pause. Ask, “Where’s this coming from?” Trace it back. Was it a wound? Name it, then give it to Jesus in prayer: “Lord, heal this hurt.” - Plant Charity at Home
When your child tests your patience, don’t let the thorn lash out. Kneel—literally or in your heart—and ask Jesus to fill you with His gentleness. Tell them, “I love you, even when it’s hard.” His love rewrites the moment. - Tend Your Soil
When resentment brews, act against it. Smile at your sibling, help your child with a task. Jesus loved those who wounded Him—Peter who denied, Judas who betrayed. His charity uproots our hatred.
A Garden Restored
Healing isn’t swift, but it’s certain. After giving Jesus my wounds, I sat with my mom and said, “I’m sorry, Mom, for raising my voice on the phone.” Her smile softened the air. The thorns are fewer now, replaced by blooms of charity. Jesus doesn’t just erase hatred; He renews the soil it grew in.
Your garden has thorns too. What wound feeds your hatred? Bring it to the Gardener. Let Him uproot it and plant love instead. Together, we’ll turn our insides out, one healed heart at a time.
Own Inside Out 
Leave a comment