Here we are the end, which is also a beginning, as all good ends are. This marks the last blog in my Lenten series, sorry for the ridiculous delay, life kind of got in the way and inspiration kinda blew out the window at some point during Lent. This also marks my first blog in my new weekly schedule, to that end there should be a new blog almost every Tuesday night/Wednesday morning depending on when it is actually written.
The previous picture is my first example of what I would like to talk about at the moment. Henry and I spent quite a few days at Mounds Park last summer, and over the past week we have been there three times. It would have been four, but Henry fell asleep in the van on the drive over one time so I just turned around and went back home so he could have a nice nap. The other day I noticed a recurring theme on our hike, very often there would be large areas of green that had a burst of color somewhere in the middle because of a random flowering plant. At first I thought it was just a nice little quirk, but then I began to think about it a bit more deeply. To understand where I finally ended up you need to understand something else first.
You see, the one place that I can always encounter God is not in a church or a particular place or time, but rather it is when I am in the midst of nature. I am a firm believer in the beauty of nature, the wonder of nature, and the divine aspects of nature. I have sat in a field and stared at the tops of trees swaying in the breeze and thought about how they were dancing in the Almighty's wind. I have been lost in the spirit, lost in my mind, lost in my soul and have been found again by walking through that which was good from the beginning.
Because of this, I ended up in a rather obvious place, that the randomness of the flowering plants were not random at all, but were rather an intricate design of beauty in the midst of an often harsh reality. So often we end up in a place where every voice is the same, every viewpoint is the same, every harsh sound is the same, and on occasions that are too rare there is a new voice, a new viewpoint, a new, softer sound of beauty. In the midst of green there is a splash of purple, or yellow, or white. In the midst of a life of grasses there are rare beautiful flowers. Sometimes we see them, and at other times we are them.
There is a book by Rob Bell, Drops Like Stars, it is about suffering and beauty. I highly recommend it to people who are walking through harsh places. I have a friend who not too long ago was in one of those places, and let her borrow the book. Part of the reason I let her borrow it was because she was coming from a place where people kept telling her that what had happened to her was part of some larger grand design of God's, as if her pain and struggle and broken heart was the only way that God could move forward.
I know some of you may flow from this very same thought process, and for you I literally weep. The creator of the universe doesn't need our pain in order to move the world forward. My friend didn't need to experience her valley of death in order for God to accomplish anything. But in her pain and suffering, there is still beauty to be found, beauty to be reclaimed, and that is the business that God is in. God doesn't cause the disasters, he helps us rebuild following them. God doesn't need the pain, but he works through it because that is where he, too often, finds his children.
The beauty of the flowering plants is not that they are alone in the midst of a wilderness, but rather that they are what makes the wilderness conquerable. My friend is in a better place now than she was, but I believe with all my heart that she will continue to move forward into a place of greater beauty. Partly this will be because of her decisions, because of her actions, and partly it will because of God's love for her and God's tenacity in the midst of our despair.
I have seen more people who have been abandoned in the midst of pain with words that falsely echo in their heads about a God who put them through a pile of dung, just to bring them out on the other side. And I wonder why people tell them such things? Is it because it has given them hope? David, in one of the most popular Bible passages talks about the truth that even when he was in the shadow of death he was not abandoned. There is no mention of God leading him into the valley, just the knowledge that he is not alone there. That is truth we can cling to.
That is hope, that is peace, that is strength, knowing we are never alone, even in the dark and twisted paths that we often find ourselves in.
You may indeed find yourself in one of those places right now. If you are there I want to reiterate two things. 1) God did not lead you there. 2) God has never and will never leave you there or anywhere else. That won't dispel the darkness and won't necessarily put you on the path out, but I hope it gives you comfort.
I walk the path, sometimes it is difficult. I understand why the military trains their people to run with heavy packs, walking the rather pedestrian trails of Mounds State Park with a five pound backpack with a 25 pound child inside of it is a workout. I hiked 5 miles on Monday alone, and 2.5 today with Henry. Yesterday I was energized, today I was beat. But today I was never alone, and that changes the experience. It didn't make the burden on my back lighter, but it did make the burden on my soul lighter.
My hope is that at the end of the summer, I will be a little bit trimmer and a little bit healthier. And my hope is that at the end of the trail I will continue to see beauty pop up in strange places. That new life will spring from the darkness. That my friend will continue to see her smile more and her tears less. That you may find your way out of the shadow to the soft grass and cool waters. That we might all remember from time to time that no matter what turns this life takes that we are never really alone. And that, as J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote, "not all those who wander are lost."
Peace and Love,
Pastor K
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