I love that there’s no hiding from God.
That used to freak me out as a young child.
I remember up until age 10, I felt this sense of powerful hiddenness. That I could say anything, do anything, and think anything without any sort of effect or real consequence.
But my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Fry, blew up this way of thinking, when she so casually and kindly said, “…And God knows what you’re thinking anyway…”
I can’t remember the full context of what she was saying to our class, but it was as if there was increased volume sound when she spoke that phrase.
I remember feeling guilty, then scared, then curiosity, and then later in my life--such great freedom.
But mostly, I have found this to be quite true.
There was nothing separating me from God. Not my skin, not my family, not my friends, not my circumstances.
I also think it’s important to mention, that it’s strongly in part to Mrs. Fry that I journal and write. She had convinced me (as well as my parents later on), that what I ‘thought’ about was so striking that it needed to come out and find its way on paper.
But like whoa.
We laugh at Adam and Eve because they tried to “Hide their nakedness” from God once they distrusted the goodness of His character – which was first a thought, then words spoken and exchanged, and then action walked out – resulting in sin and pain entering the storyline.
But I find that we are constantly trying to hide. Hide behind things, people, desires, idols, hopes and even dreams.
Instead of ourselves coming face to face, stark naked before a holy God. He knows what you look like naked anyways. Physically speaking --- emotionally speaking—and spiritually speaking.
Thoughts carry weight.
I listen a great deal.
I listen to what people say. Because inevitably they are telling me how they think and what they’ve experienced and what they believe to be true.
But what they say, is not always what they mean.
And therein lies the crux.
We are fragmented.
But everything lost is constantly making its way back to you in God.
But yet we are fragmented in so many ways. And if I’m honest, I for one, still distrust the goodness of God in all areas of my life.
But He brings His wholeness to the table.
And He invites me to a meal.
To sit and listen to His stories, and to tell me the real version of mine.
And I can’t help but think, why was I hiding from this invitation in the first place?
But this is how a garden grows.
Watering, pruning, patience, and singing.
Have you seen those incredible experiments where plants are exposed to 2 or 3 types of music or words of affirmation verses critical words of hatred?
The physical and internal structure of these plants are affected simply by the music or words spoken to it.
So how, in turn, do you think words spoken over us as children, teenagers, adults, and seniors, affect our souls and our physical appearance? I would confidently say the effect is monumental.
And in the midst, we get good at hiding, and carrying the burden on our own throughout a lifetime.
Because often, we think, if someone sees, they’ll be disgusted and leave us to stew once again in rejection or loneliness.
But I love how God knows and sees us.
I love that there are words in the Bible like, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28)
Tears.
Seriously. In this season of my life, this verse hits my heart so strongly. I can feast at the table, and just chew on this verse until it sustains me. And it does sustain.
It carries the weight of peace, glory, joy, and love.
I met someone.
And it was the sound of his voice that felt familiar to me.
There was something both sad and beautiful about his face when I looked at him intently. Like there had been such deep pain, but there he was, steady pushing towards the direction of joy.
He seems to be an amalgamation of tender and fierce. And I’m intrigued, but I don’t know the context of who we are.
And a garden never seems to grow fast enough.
It takes its time.
As it’s suppose to.
But in all honesty, he’s not pursuing, defining, or trying to date me as far as I know. And perhaps that is the true definition of our relationship: Friendship.
Around him, I feel a little bit like “J.C. Wiatt” (played by Diane Keaton) in the 1987 movie, Baby Boom.
J.C. Wiatt, a kick-butt business woman in New York City, in a predominately male industry, turns to goofy putty (against her pride) becoming comically awkward and losing her cool around the ever-so handsome small town doctor, Dr. Jeff Cooper (played by Sam Shepard).
But this may not end like J.C. and Dr. Cooper.
And that’s okay.
I just don’t want to be duped or strung along.
And I still want to have a lush garden when it’s all said and done.
And perhaps he will too.
I want us both to flourish, but in which direction we individually and collectively grow shall yet to be determined.
But alas, nothing is hidden from God.
And I’ll continue to trust the process. Even the manure bits.
And here we are. --2018.
You’re growing a garden.
And I’m growing a garden.
And I’m so very glad we both are.
Because God can wholly tend to these eccentric and sometimes barren-looking gardens, if we let Him.
Whispering to our hearts, that He alone causes the fruit to mature and brings about the full bounty.
Wisdom’s Knocking:
“And the Lord will continually guide you, And satisfy your desire in scorched places,
And give strength to your bones; And you will be like a watered garden,
And like a spring of water whose waters do not fail.”
- Isaiah 58:11