I will never forget some of the long nights of my life. I look back on the shadowy evenings that led into inky blackness of night deep within the chaos of the forest. I mentioned the many paths leading away from the garden of my soul; so many times I trod upon these paths, leading away from this demanding garden to the easy ways of the forest, where little work is needed, only a place to lay one’s head at night. So many wicked things occur in the forest, under the cover of the thick canopy, that I cannot describe them here, but the seeds sown in such a place bring no man closer to God.
On occasion I would wake deep within the forest, far from any shining light, wondering what I was doing in such a place. Memory failed to recall the steps taken to arrive at my current place, so I would simply try and orient myself to a foreign location deep within the heart of the forest. Well, such forests don’t truly have a heart, merely arteries carrying us farther from our true homes with window dressing to disguise the journey.
At such times I would cry out to God in despair, in distress, for my enemies would surround me, threatening to steal me away forever. Only then would I remember my garden and the delight you have in planting it. Only then would I look back on this place with fond memories, hoping for a current to carry me back. I would, on rare occasion, struggle upstream in the direction of my true home, in the hopes that my Savior would come and rescue me from my predicament. It would never fail, however, that I would be distracted, turning from truth toward the lie, revealing my weakness of character and chasing after whatever lure was offered by the forest. Sinful man that I am, I would turn my back on the only truth in my life and chase the lie, leaving only footprints that would indicate my feeble efforts to tend my garden.
Once again I would wake, crying out to the Lord for salvation from my situation. Where was my answer in the midst of the night? Where was the sun in such a shadowy reality? Was the world a truly wicked place that would prevent my ever returning to the garden? Was I to suffer a terrible fate in this place? Or would my Savior rescue me?
I do not know how I ever escaped the fate that must have awaited me. Destruction surely lurked in every corner, behind every tree, waiting to consume me. Somehow my God rescued me, sent some flare to guide the way back home, to the garden of my soul. Never has such joy flowed from me, flowed through me, as it did when I caught my first glimpse of this overgrown, dilapidated place. I wanted to vomit, so sick was I at the state of it, but all I could do was weep hysterically at the joy I discovered upon sight of the place. All was made new because my God rescued me from my own chaos. I do not know why, but I rejoice at the chance to tear tender weeds out by their roots, for I have not been destroyed, rather I have found my salvation in Christ alone. I have been delivered!
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