There she was, a simplistic beauty, misplaced. An attention drawn to herself, unintentionally,
because of who she was and how she thrived.
She was a garden flower blooming in the wilderness.
But wasn't it just beautiful?
The way she grew right where she had been planted? The way she allowed her roots to run deep, intertwining with those around her. Somehow stunning the way her vivid yellow contrasted with the drab colors of the dried, desert-like ground. Right next to the gentle brook, the daffodil's courage spoke to my heart.
The wildflower, blooming anywhere and everywhere, I have been.
A whirlwind of fluctuating emotion and chaotic beauty.
Carefree, so vivaciously spreading life.
I've seen the garden flowers. The ones that settle and grow deep roots of love and joy. Right where they are, steadfast and immovable. Devoted to where they've been called. I've admired them.
Here I am, though, a daffodil in the wild, a wildflower in a garden. Misplaced and yet,
this is right where I have been planted.
The daffodil inspired within me a prayer. Because I've been praying, I've been longing for the day when I'm planted elsewhere. I've been hoping for the day when I get to be a wildflower in a field. And yet,
I'm a garden flower blooming in the wilderness and
it's not natural,
but it's where I've been planted.
The prayer blossomed out of a heart not my own, my flesh would have denied it.
God didn't call me to be here, in this garden, to sit still in the little plastic carton that new plants come in.
No, He's been waiting with His shovel and His spade, waiting for the day when I would fully surrender and allow Him to plant me. Where I finally let Him cultivate me right here. Right in this place of burden and beauty.
It's not that His promises haven't been enough. They have.
"Whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:14)
Nourishment and life, he has promised me. If only I give Him my roots.
"Rooted and grounded in love." (Eph. 3:17)
The ground is fertile. He promised. Yet, why am I so afraid?
I think it is fear of the known. I thrive on the unknown, I thrive on adventure.
I fear sameness and ritual and habit.
I fear being unfruitful.
And it is that very thing that I become when I allow my roots to be suffocated in this entrapment they are in.
The ground is fertile. The soil is prepared. The command is undeniable. The Gardener is trustworthy, He has loving hands, stained from years of planting, tenderly caring for hearts, just like mine.
So my dangerous prayer has become,
"Take this wayward heart, this heart that thinks it knows best.
This heart that believes it has been designed for adventure,
Plant it. Cultivate it so that the roots run deep.
Our hearts were not made to be adventurous,
our hearts were not made to stay.
Our hearts were made to please His.
Our hearts were made for Him.
My heart, captured by the sweetest of chains, is crying out to you.
Plant me so my roots grow deep in your soil and they intertwine with others;
so that when you do transplant me,
processes are difficult.
Painful it will be to detangle me from this place.
Pieces of me will be left behind,
I'll never be the same.
This heart is yours.
I get it now. Life is a journey. I understand.
So relational is my Author. Each adventure and each new season given so I may know Him more, so I may give Him more. The revelation is the same as always. Just as it will always be, Just as it was for so many others. Ezekiel bore Israel's punishment because He saw God, He saw Heaven. Isaiah, John, Paul.
The revelation is Jesus. It is the value of Him. It is my sinfulness in light of His beauty.
It will always result in giving myself empty to the One who made me.
It will always result in obedience in the call He has on my life.
Because I have seen His value. I know Him.
Will it result in obedience for you?
Will a revelation of Him result in a prayer to be deeply rooted, right where you have been planted until He calls you somewhere else??
Ephesians 3:16-20
That according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith-that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have the strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever.
because of who she was and how she thrived.
She was a garden flower blooming in the wilderness.
But wasn't it just beautiful?
The way she grew right where she had been planted? The way she allowed her roots to run deep, intertwining with those around her. Somehow stunning the way her vivid yellow contrasted with the drab colors of the dried, desert-like ground. Right next to the gentle brook, the daffodil's courage spoke to my heart.
The wildflower, blooming anywhere and everywhere, I have been.
A whirlwind of fluctuating emotion and chaotic beauty.
Carefree, so vivaciously spreading life.
I've seen the garden flowers. The ones that settle and grow deep roots of love and joy. Right where they are, steadfast and immovable. Devoted to where they've been called. I've admired them.
Here I am, though, a daffodil in the wild, a wildflower in a garden. Misplaced and yet,
this is right where I have been planted.
The daffodil inspired within me a prayer. Because I've been praying, I've been longing for the day when I'm planted elsewhere. I've been hoping for the day when I get to be a wildflower in a field. And yet,
I'm a garden flower blooming in the wilderness and
it's not natural,
but it's where I've been planted.
The prayer blossomed out of a heart not my own, my flesh would have denied it.
God didn't call me to be here, in this garden, to sit still in the little plastic carton that new plants come in.
No, He's been waiting with His shovel and His spade, waiting for the day when I would fully surrender and allow Him to plant me. Where I finally let Him cultivate me right here. Right in this place of burden and beauty.
It's not that His promises haven't been enough. They have.
"Whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:14)
Nourishment and life, he has promised me. If only I give Him my roots.
"Rooted and grounded in love." (Eph. 3:17)
The ground is fertile. He promised. Yet, why am I so afraid?
I think it is fear of the known. I thrive on the unknown, I thrive on adventure.
I fear sameness and ritual and habit.
I fear being unfruitful.
And it is that very thing that I become when I allow my roots to be suffocated in this entrapment they are in.
The ground is fertile. The soil is prepared. The command is undeniable. The Gardener is trustworthy, He has loving hands, stained from years of planting, tenderly caring for hearts, just like mine.
So my dangerous prayer has become,
"Take this wayward heart, this heart that thinks it knows best.
This heart that believes it has been designed for adventure,
Plant it. Cultivate it so that the roots run deep.
Our hearts were not made to be adventurous,
our hearts were not made to stay.
Our hearts were made to please His.
Our hearts were made for Him.
My heart, captured by the sweetest of chains, is crying out to you.
Plant me so my roots grow deep in your soil and they intertwine with others;
so that when you do transplant me,
processes are difficult.
Painful it will be to detangle me from this place.
Pieces of me will be left behind,
I'll never be the same.
This heart is yours.
I get it now. Life is a journey. I understand.
So relational is my Author. Each adventure and each new season given so I may know Him more, so I may give Him more. The revelation is the same as always. Just as it will always be, Just as it was for so many others. Ezekiel bore Israel's punishment because He saw God, He saw Heaven. Isaiah, John, Paul.
The revelation is Jesus. It is the value of Him. It is my sinfulness in light of His beauty.
It will always result in giving myself empty to the One who made me.
It will always result in obedience in the call He has on my life.
Because I have seen His value. I know Him.
Will it result in obedience for you?
Will a revelation of Him result in a prayer to be deeply rooted, right where you have been planted until He calls you somewhere else??
Ephesians 3:16-20
That according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith-that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have the strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever.
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