Tend Your Leaf: The Hidden Vocation of the Catholic Writer
When I was a young boy, my brothers and I went to a friend’s house. He had a huge yard, and it was our first time there. As he showed us around, a neighbor boy suddenly zipped past on a dirt bike.
My friend shook his head and said the neighbor wasn’t supposed to ride in his yard. Then he led us over to an apple tree. A few minutes later, we heard the roar of the dirt bike again.
“When he comes by, let’s throw apples at him,” my friend said. Without thinking twice, I grabbed a couple of apples. As soon as the neighbor sped past, we let them fly. We had great aim. We hit him and chased him off his bike path. We were proud of ourselves. That was until the neighbor’s mom came over to tell our parents. They were not pleased. We had to write essays about what we did wrong.
Looking back, that story reminds me of St. Augustine, who as a young man once stole pears just for the thrill of it. Later he realized that moment revealed something deep about sin, the strange way we can enjoy doing wrong simply because it is wrong. In his Confessions he wrote, “I loved my own undoing. I was in love with ruin.”
Augustine came to see that sin is not just about what we do but about why we do it. The same pull shows up all over Scripture. The Bible is full of people who were caught between sin and grace, and their stories mirror our own hearts.
Rahab lived in Jericho and had a bad reputation. She was not known for holiness, yet when she heard about the God of Israel, something in her changed. She hid the Israelite spies and risked her life to follow the true God. Because of her faith, she and her family were saved when Jericho fell. Rahab even became one of Jesus’ ancestors. Her story reminds us that no one is too far gone for redemption.
Then there is King Solomon, perhaps the most surprising example of all. He began as one of the wisest men in Scripture. When God appeared to him in a dream and said, “Ask for whatever you want,” Solomon asked for wisdom. God was so pleased that He gave him not only wisdom but also wealth and honor. Solomon built the Temple and became famous for his insight.
But over time, the same man who built God’s Temple stopped guarding his own heart. He began collecting possessions, power, and pleasure, and Scripture says, “His wives turned his heart after other gods” (1 Kings 11:4). Solomon had a plan for his kingdom, a plan for his palace, and a plan for his temple, but no plan for his soul. He shows us that sin does not always come from rebellion; sometimes it comes from comfort. Even the wisest person can drift when they stop depending on God.
History gives us another image. When Alexander the Great attacked the city of Tyre, he used the rubble of the old city to build a causeway that led to its fall. Tyre was destroyed by its own ruins. The same can happen to us when we let sin pile up. The rubble of our choices can become the very thing that buries us. But God can turn that rubble into a bridge to redemption. Our past mistakes can either destroy us or become the foundation for something new.
From throwing apples to stealing pears, from Rahab to Solomon, the stories of sinners and saints remind us that sin twists good desires, but grace untwists them. Augustine discovered that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. The same is true for us.
Everyone has a past. Everyone has fallen short. But the difference between staying lost and becoming a saint is what you do next. Do not let your worst moments define you. Let God rewrite your story. Start small. Confess one sin. Change one habit. Take one step closer to Christ this week. God can use even your rubble to build something amazing.