journey onWord with us

One of my favorite things in the season of summer has been to spend my sacred time in the early morning outside at our back table.  In a little alcove, out-of-the-way sort of niche, i spend time in the cool of the early morning with the Father.  There is something quite special about communing with Him in His creation.

i say “has been,” because i have been absent in that space far too often in this particular summer season.  i have allowed an overcrowded schedule of commitments and travel to distract and extract me from that sacred space.  Monday morning this week i returned for the first time in a long time … and it was good.  But it was not without notice of a great need.  One of the first things i noticed were the flowers … or lack of them.  When i am consistent in that outdoor space, one of the facets of my time with God is care for our flowers.  Early in the season they were vibrant and bursting with blooms.  Monday was an entirely different scene.

Our flowers were not dead, but they were weary and a bit ragged.  Looking from afar, they looked decent and presentable.  But in the intimacy of care and feeding, there were obvious and looming signs of blight and decay.  My marigolds showed clear evidence of a fungal infection. Our petunias were thinning and, when you got close enough, you could see numerous dead or dying leaves.

As i deadheaded the marigolds and plucked the brown and brittle leaves from the petunias, i came face to face with an unmistakable and unfortunate truth in my own garden of faith.  i had spent a significant part of this peak growing and blooming season ignoring the critical activities of care and feeding.  There were still blooms, but a closer inspection of my relationship with Jesus showed visible signs of infection and infirmity.

The beauty and great hope of my condition is this, and this alone … i belong to great Gardener.  He restores me with just one sip of living water and His daily bread is always in perfect proportion to my need.

In so many ways, i am writing to myself today.  And yet, i am also quite certain i am not alone in that need.

Thank you, Jesus, for never leaving or forsaking me.  Thank you, Holy Spirit, for so clearly and gently revealing my need.  Thank you, Father, for the time we’ve spent since in the sacred acts of care and feeding.