Jn. 14:23
A few weeks ago, I was visiting a friend for the afternoon. She had offered me a houseplant that her home could no longer accommodate, and after catching up a bit, I had loaded the plant into my car and was ready to go. But when I turned the key, my car wouldn't start. The engine didn't even turn over. We expected it would need a tow. While we waited for AAA to show up, we strolled around her yard and she picked me a stalk of sedum, which I had admired. It was already close to dinner time, so her family generously hosted us for pizza, and when we finally left (AAA being able to restart the car), I ended up leaving the little green branch of sedum on the passenger seat of the car when we dropped it off at the shop. A few days later when we picked up the car, the sedum was still looking surprisingly hearty so I brought it home, dropped it in a glass of water, and set it on my windowsill. Now, it's sprouted a shock of white roots at the bottom. It's reaching out for a place to settle for good.
This little growing thing shows me, in a way I can see on my windowsill, the restoring power of Jesus. It has demonstrated, like so many things do, a greater truth about our God. You might have a broken-down car, or a wilting branch, or a flagging spirit, or a wounded heart. But God can make a whole new beginning out of something that looks to you like it's almost dead.
I need to have this faith about more things than just a cut flower in the kitchen. There are some big things that are looking pretty shrivelly right now: the future of Christian education, for example. I've become passionate about the rights of Christian schools to write their own employment and enrollment policies and to be exempt from penalties when they do so. But as I read news like this, I become more and more sure that it's only a matter of time before Christian schools nationwide will be forced to compromise their beliefs, or close their doors for good. And this overwhelms me with fear, sadness, and panic.
Add to this a posse of disrespectful teenage boys at school, the potentially imminent death of a family member who doesn't know Christ, rumors of ISIS radicals sneaking into Europe amongst the refugees, and the exhausting weariness of a plain old head cold, and hopelessness isn't far off.
I need faith that God can take this worry, this bleak future that I've written for the world, and sprout new roots out of it. I need more faith that when I feel abandoned, left on a car seat to wither in the sun, God will bring along a cup of cool water and give me a fresh start. I need the memory of all He has already done to pierce through the discouragement that comes from dwelling on what He hasn't done yet. His sweet Word offers comfort from every page and I've found it a strong tower for me this week.
Is your faith waning? Does something look to you like it has wilted beyond hope? Offer it to the Gardener who makes all things grow. But remember this too: "Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." Christ promises to bring life, even out of death. So be patient and grateful as you watch to see what He will do. It probably won't be what you expect, but it will be good.
Grateful this week for:
a free coffee
cloudy skies
John 14
honesty in an email
my husband
apples
Benadryl
coupons
a fleece blanket
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