“The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.” John 3:8
I live in an area where wild flowers grace the hills and valleys for months, changing colors in wonderful blankets of purple, white and yellow. Their blooms smile upward as cold winter winds turn to warm spring breezes. Beautiful flowers, once planted in domestic beds, moved about by the constant winds that blow here.
Those flowers that remain in beds grow full and lush, tended by caring hands. Those that grow wild are small; their roots are shallow, for lack of water, of cultivated soil, of carefully added nutrients.
I’m always delighted by the wild alyssum, snap dragons, morning glories and evening primrose that pop-up in my yard. When the leaves first surface I contemplate the color and shape – is it weed or flower? Do I pluck it out or wait and see. I wait.
Even the sharp prickly thistle, easily recognized, I leave unharmed until the beautiful purple flower has shown its glory. Being careful to remove the entire plant before the delicate petals turn to seeds and parachute away on the wings of the wind.
I wonder if that is similar to the way God looks down on us – His children. Watching as the tiniest green leaf breaks the soil. Watching to see whether we grow as a flower in His glory – or branch out prickly branches while charismatically enticing the unsuspecting with temporary beauty.
When He sees a heart of tenderness, is that when He sends the caretaker that removes the weeds and tares that surround us, stealing our nutrients, crowding our lives, restricting our growth or causing death? Does He watch as we sit at the edge of sin, enjoying the temporary beauty – wondering if we will grab onto the seed after the flower is gone, flying away to watch the sin replant and bloom and float and replant and bloom and float . . . . Does He watch to see if we will pluck the sin away, to the deepest depth of its root; at first sight – or maybe just in time?
I wonder what Jesus saw when He looked down from the cross that fate-filled day; was it the lilies of the field that took His breath? Was it carefully raised, tender plants that chose to leave on the winds of changing doctrine? Or was it the thistles and the crown of thorns that threatened His children?
I wonder if He cried out for the new leaves breaking the surface of the earth, searching, seeking for a drop of moisture – for a chance to bloom. Or was His cry for you – was it perhaps for me?
Yes, I believe it was.
———-
** The Road To Emmaus
By Linda J. Humes
Written 6-25-2004
Linda J. Humes 