The Rested SoulНамуна

You Can Endure

My husband loves sunflowers. As novice gardeners, we decided to grow several varieties in our small yard. Because we live in the cold climate of New England, we grew the seedlings indoors before transferring them outside. A lot of the seeds never germinated. Having lost over half, every single seedling became precious to us by the time we planted them in the yard.

One of the plants seemed to be doing well until a squirrel beheaded it so that only the two seed leaves remained, and even they were yellowed and more dead than alive. I was certain it could not grow back from that assault. But that plucky thing struggled, and a couple of other leaves finally shot out, followed by a couple more. It was a valiant effort. Hubby and I watched in wonder as it proved us wrong in all our predictions of doom and gloom.

Then some kind of disease attacked the delicate leaves and they started turning brown. We sprayed them with organic pest-control oil though we had little hope. To our amazement, the sunflower started to grow again, shooting out healthy green leaves. To our dismay, a mysterious pest started eating our plant. It was so small and damaged by this time that we were sure it couldn’t get past this new assault.

But it did.

I was starting to love this plant. Nearby, other sunflowers were growing tall and producing massive blooms that drew the praise of neighbors. Even the goldfinches loved to rest in the enormous disks of their flowers. But this little plant, which hadn’t even had a chance to bloom, stole my heart. That feisty sunflower became the glory of our garden.

Its beauty wasn’t in its perfection or productivity. We didn’t care that it was slower than the other plants. What we loved was that our fragile sunflower held on.

Maybe right now you feel like that broken sunflower. Maybe in comparison to those around you, you feel like a failure. You feel like you have nothing but pain to show for your life.

When you are crushed by one trauma after another, you may feel like you are not worthy. But God doesn’t see your life like that. You are the glory of His garden. Sometimes, our glory comes from a crushed life. A difficult life, well-lived.

Right now, your job is to hang on. To get up again and again. To hold on to Jesus and not let go. Right now is not the end of your story.

Just as all those attacks weren’t the end of our sunflower. Eventually, our plant grew sturdy, shooting out healthy stalks and leaves. Every jaw dropped as its multiple blossoms opened and matured. We had long since forgotten the variety of sunflower we had planted. So those flowers took us by surprise. The only Teddy Bear variety growing in our yard produced breathtaking golden yellow fluffy blooms. We couldn’t stop staring at those gorgeous, Van Gogh-worthy flowers and sigh with pleasure. After a long, hard battle, they had managed to fulfill our best hopes and plans for them.

You may feel so caught up in this present pain that you have forgotten the beauty God has planted in you. Let me tell you: you are a marvel of God’s creation! Your beauty will be fully revealed in God’s time. God’s kingdom intentions for your life are mighty even if they don’t translate into worldly success. As you wait in the midst of this emotional travail, your glory shines for those who have eyes to see. Right now, when I talk to Jesus about you, I whisper, “The glory of Your garden.”