i want to see
04.27.2011 
I live in a garden. This garden, while beautiful, is ravaged by the Fall. The thunder outside reminds me that danger is imminent. I am not safe. Children in this garden get brain cancer and die. Adolescents are plagued by eating disorders. Some take their own lives. Mamas get breast cancer. Daddies drink themselves into an early grave. Danger is everywhere. The effects of the Fall, of the day when the Woman took the apple because she did not trust her God, are evident every moment in this garden.
I live in a garden. This garden holds the possibility of rebirth. Every spring astounding beauty is birthed. Blooms like banners of a million colors crawl out of green balls. New life is everywhere. The rain feeds these buds. The green in the grass sings to my eyes of a Creator. I connect to a Mama in trouble. I offer her my hand because she has offered me hers a few years ago. I offer her companionship on this treacherous and breath-taking path called life. My heart swells when my love picks up his son and dwarfs him in big arms cradling him in LOVE. Smiles the sizes of watermelons speak to me of wonder and mystery. Laughter fills my halls and I know that LIFE is more powerful than destruction. Hope lives in this garden.
I live in a garden. We groan for new life. The flowers and the rocks and me and the Mamas in trouble, we ache and we groan. We beg God to have mercy. We beseech Him for new LIFE, for grace, for help. We ask for eyes to see His Presence in this garden.
I live in a garden: in the now and the not yet. He is RISEN. Victory is mine, ours. Yet I struggle, fumble and fall. One day pain will end. One day death will be defeated. One day sin will not afflict my body. But that day has not yet come. Yet it has. The knowledge that Jesus won by losing fills my bones and my lungs with a scent of the promise.
He has paid the ransom. I am free. I can live free. Laughter is the music of hope. Hope is more abundant than despair in this garden.
Today I can choose to see Him. If I need to, I can ask a friend to help me see Him. I want to see HOPE.
Asking Why, Wait on God, hope
Reader Comments (9)
A dear friend and fellow missionary while we lived in Honduras took the photo above. She now lives in England. This photo reminds me of a garden and of invitation to grace.
I have been blessed by your beautiful heartfelt words this lenten season. Thank you for sharing. b
Thank you for inviting me to walk in the garden today and for offering your hand to steady me on this rocky and terrifying journey. Feeling skinned up and fragile and grateful for a caring heart who knows me and loves me even in my weakest state. And who makes house & hospital calls...
I too am struck by the profound fallen-ness of this garden and this season has reminded me that His resurrection in me is of profound significance. We are His hands, His feet, His eyes, His heart...Thanks for your musing.
beautiful- thank you
This morning I read this from the Upper Room. Another invitation to see...
THE RISEN CHRIST walks beside us—awaiting our invitation to stay with us, break bread with us, interpret life for us, give us hope, and share in thanksgiving. May we, like the disciples before us, have our eyes opened to recognize Christ as he comes to walk beside us this day.
—Rueben P. Job, A Guide to Prayer for All Who Seek God
What a beautiful reminder that we are indeed the representation of His Risenness in this world. Thank you, Mar
As I looked at this photo again, I see bare trees, a little scary with crooked branches reaching down towards what is probably the path I would walk on if I walked through that gate. It's not soft and lush and I can't even see much that's over there because of the stone wall. There is a lot of unknown...yet He asks me to trust Him. To walk through the gate in my fear but in confidence because His hand is there, beckoning. I am choosing to see Him today.
His hand IS there. And that makes it a glad journey. Not that other scary things AREN'T there, they are. He is with us.