I planted flowers today. For therapy purposes.
I needed to see the potential there, to see the bud nearly blooming, to sense the seed’s surrendering to death and then glorious life. I needed to get my hands dirty, my knees wet.
Life springs from little deaths, doesn’t it? Jesus said “”Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). I want to bear much fruit. But sometimes the price I have to pay to bear that fruit is excruciating death in little and large doses.
Death to my will.
Death to my reputation.
Death to my way of doing things.
Death to my hopes.
And yet, Jesus promises that in these little deaths, life springs forth.
When I die to my will, His becomes apparent.
When I die to my reputation, I no longer have to try to defend myself and I give Him the permission to defend me in His timing. There is freedom in that.
When I die to my way of doing things, other ways illuminate before me and I realize His ways are much better than my acting in my own paltry strength.
When I die to my hopes, He sifts through them, showing me afresh that His hopes are the ones worth clinging to.
So, I planted seeds. And watered them with my tears. And I planted flowers–to remind me that life will come again, and that God will beautify my heart with flowers upon flowers.