Do you have questions for God? I seem to always have.
Simple young ones like, why didn’t I have any brothers or sisters?
Later, why didn’t So-&-So ask me out?
And, of late, are you hearing all my prayers?
So many times we know the answers to those questions, don’t we? We can read the Bible and know for certain that God loves us and is faithful. He moves according to His divine time and sovereignty. No one is wiser than God. No one loves us more, and He is patient with us because of that love. And where His love and mercy meet, is Christ.
Even so, we still have questions sometimes.
Yesterday, I went to a local garden center with a good friend who also loves gardening, so it started out on a high note even before setting off. I woke early, startled by happy anticipation. It was a cool, bright spring day and we were soon off, armed with jackets and our pruned lists of “must-haves.”
We made our way up a winding drive to the garden center. There, stretched out before us at the top, were row upon row of hoop houses, each brimming with plants. The garden center supervisor told us the layout and we quickly located some oakleaf hydrangeas. We milled about in the “Shade Tolerant” section and “oohed and ahhed” over each bleeding heart blossom, the kaleidoscope colors of columbine, and the delicate, airy blossoms of several varieties of coral bells. A hoop house or two over, sun-loving bright flowers shouted, “Why can’t you take us home?”
Shade, shade, shade…
I have questions when I garden beyond the dividing line between “part shade” and “full shade” and where to plant a new hosta. Am I learning contentment? I wonder sometimes, just why must there be so many rocks in my soil? Is it partly to teach me patience? And, God, why did you create cockroaches and wasps? To give a job and income to our monthly exterminator?
I dig deeper…
Lord, root out those sinful weeds creeping into my heart:
I overturn another rock and pick it up, turning it over in the palm of my hand. It’s oddly shaped, roundish but with cuts and abrupt edges here and there. It’s color is mostly gray but, amid the mundane gray are little glints of black here and there. It really is beautiful. Ordinary yet unique. There is art even in my soil.
God is the artist and master-gardener. Shades and shades of color, flowers with perfectly whorled petals, leaves of a thousand shapes, design, and textures. He makes each little bit of green push through soil, drawn by warmth, to reach toward sunlight, to become what He has designed it to be. What a God!
And that same God who’s watching lilies in the field (and hostas and bleeding hearts in the shade), loves and watches over you and me! We have been made for Him. He longs for us, for our hearts. We’re drawn by the love of Christ and we reach toward Him–and when we find Him, that’s just where we should be. Not conformed, but transformed.
“O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.
Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.
For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.[a]
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
All praise and glory!
We thank You for rocks in our soil and shade in our yard.
We thank you for patience and contentment.
We thank you for drawing us to you, questions and sins and all.
We thank You for Your love, for Your mercy, for Your forgiveness, and for Christ!