Still thinking about the stunted growth of some beautiful
buds. Crying out to God for those whose early experiences came as assaults of
harsh winds and driving rain, leaving them bruised and hurting, wounding them
deeply. Jesus called his Father the gardener, and Isaiah declares that this
gardener won’t break a bruised reed, or indeed a beautiful rosebud. He is a
nurturing gardener, a wise gardener, a gardener who (unlike me) knows which
food to apply when, which branches to prune, which wee beasties to zap. He is a
gardener whose healing touch transforms what is closing in on itself,
encouraging it to open up to the sunshine and bloom. To be unique, fragrant and
beautiful in a way that nobody else can be. To let go of the hurts and the
torments and turn to Him, allowing his healing to flow through the hurt and
bring restoration and assurance of his love, his everlasting, unconditional
love.
I’m so aware that often God delegates to us, his children,
and know that in and of myself I am a hopeless gardener, either outside or in
trying to encourage growth and healing in others. So today, as every day, I cry
out to Jesus, for a fresh in-filling of Holy Spirit, to guide, inspire and
empower. He is my everything.
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