I stop and ponder the beauty of the garden, here in the midst of the forest. There is a clearing around this place, fifty yards of mellow grass and sweet wildflowers, the type that serve as an accent, window dressing to God’s beauty. These are the scenes that do not shout, only seek to humbly add to the glory of a virgin meadow. Beyond that lies forest, with dense walls of firs separated by towering pillars of strength. There are occasional pockets in this fierce scene where paths enter and exit the woods, meandering through the meadow before punching another hole in the thicket. These are the paths I have blazed while seeking escape from my duties in the garden.
From here is seems as though the forest stops at a respectful distance. There is no logical reason that it does not continue to advance against the placid garden. Surely a determined forest could swallow this clearing hole in a few aggressive years, but it has not. The weeds within the garden have done astonishing work in creating chaos, but outside the walls of the garden there is little to suggest that this place has been neglected by my youthful ways.
For me to suggest that this garden is capable of defending itself would be pure arrogance. I may as well suggest that I was responsible for building the fence and planting the roses. I have not steadfastly repelled the forest’s advances. I have not served faithfully to protect the garden’s desperately needed light from the giants that tower over the forest floor. I have waywardly and irresponsibly assumed that all would be cared for without attention from me.
And yet, in my neglect there is a defender. The same one who created this garden protects it from the advances of the chaos that looms beyond the placid meadow. There is some border, some invisible line that has been drawn in the seemingly uncaring grass that halts the forest and allows it no more progress. As to why such a thing occurs around a space that has been so neglected for so long, I cannot say. But now that I return to the garden of my soul, to the delight of my youth, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for such a thing. Despite my uncaring sin, despite my inattentive mind, despite my disrespectful actions, the Lord has stood firm as my guardian, protecting me as his beloved. He is faithful to promises made long ago, promises tested and proved true, promises that will watch over me all the days of my life. In the heat of the fire and the cool of the winter, the promises have shown to be true, and the fact that I stoop today and pull weeds from the ground is proof that despite my apathy, I have a provider, and one who welcomes me back into the fold with arms wide enough for me to fit my entire being into. The one in whom I live and move and have my being is gracious and forgiving, and for that I whisper word after word of thanks as I realize the threat from the forest is nothing more than that.
No comments:
Post a Comment