English Ivy Meets a Black Thumb

Last fall, I was given a beautiful English Ivy for boss’s day. I know it must’ve been expensive because it’s huge and gorgeous.

I wanted a plant for my office—despite the fact that I’m not a plant person.

And the plant my colleagues chose—I was told—is very, very hard to kill.

Can I repeat? I’m not a plant person.

Around our house, Howell takes care of all things green and colorful and organic and pretty.

But I listened to his instructions and determined that I would take care of this plant at work.

My goal is always to water it on Mondays.

Actually, at first I purposed to water it on Fridays. Fridays got pushed to Mondays (can you see where this is going?), and now I usually look up at some point mid-week and think, “Oh dang! I haven’t watered my plant yet.”

She is quite resilient, though, this plant of mine. And God has used her to speak to my heart on a number of occasions.

In fact, God’s been speaking to me—the non-plant person—through all things green and organic a lot lately. (You might recall my encounters in the flower beds last summer and my faith declaration  because of the cotton harvest last fall.)

We have a solid red oak in our front yard. It’s my absolute favorite tree.

The year we moved in, God gave us a word that we were like that red oak—that our roots were deep, and our branches would be resilient, despite the circumstances, despite the heavy rains, harsh winds, severe freezes. Whatever the conditions, God told me we would be able to stand under the adversary.

Of course, a massive red oak would be resilient. It looks resilient. But when I look at this little Ivy, I think, even you, and each delicate little leaf, are resilient.

She might look weak when I’ve neglected her, and some leaves might yellow or droop a little, but when I give her a drink, she snaps back rather quickly.

My Heavenly Dad is a good Gardener. Can you imagine how big and how green his thumb must be?

He picks from me the dead leaves, to make room for new growth. He never neglects to give me water.

He’s forever my source and strength.

And because of His tender care over my soil, I can face anything.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 says, "Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit." 

Friends, do you feel thirsty today? Do you need to let the Master Gardener care for your heart soil?

Do you need Him to breathe life and strength into your roots and limbs and leaves again? 

If my black thumb can care for a super resilient ivy, then only imagine how much more skillfully he can care for the most delicate of us. 

Come toward the Light: Lessons from Easter Lilies

My sweet friend bought me Easter Lilies and brought them to me the Wednesday before Easter. 

Normally, these flowers don’t last very long, but mine are still blooming and beautiful.

Last week, I don’t remember what I was doing, but I was rushing around the house, and the Lord said, Stop and look. Notice.

All the blooms on the flowers had stretched toward the light at the window.

Maybe it’s because I’m obsessed with the new Bethel album and love the song “Shine on Us,” but I’ve been thinking about light and darkness a lot lately.

He is light, and His light displaces darkness. Darkness and light cannot co-exist.

The same day, He said, Look—notice, I was feeling so emotional and all over the place. I felt overwhelmed and not enough, and I knew I wasn’t walking in who I am in Christ.

It was like I knew it—but the feelings were so real too.

But His truth is light; it shines on those dark places in my heart where lies hide and wait, where false words sneak and slither.

When I speak His truth, when I believe His truth, I shine light there—and the darkness cannot stay.

Oh that I would position my heart—as the lilies have—to be stretched toward the light, to be turned entirely toward it, to desperately seek it, to hunger and thirst for it.

That His light of truth would be my greatest need.

Without it, I cannot survive.

I love Psalm 139—“Search my heart and know me, try me and know my thoughts; see if there is any grievous way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.”

David’s prayer is a prayer for light: let the light come closer, let it examine, let it know and see.

God’s light on our heart is never bad; it never hurts or burns.

Like the light for the lilies, it brings life and hope; God’s light restores truth and brings peace.

Dear friends, let’s walk in the light as sons and daughters. Let’s be drawn to Him. 

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God is our life-support

In Genesis 2:7, we find that God breathes life into us: "...and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life." Literally, this refers to the Spirit of God being breathed into us. At creation, He formed from dust our fleshly bodies, but he breathed His Spirit into us to give us life.

And thanks to Jesus' redemptive work on the cross, we don't have to live by our flesh. Our life support can be His Spirit which empowers us:

"But if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you" (Romans 8:11; see, too, Eph 2:1).

I almost didn't consider this as an attribute. Of the ones listed in Acts 17, this isn't as clearly stated as God is... Instead, it's alluded to twice: 

"He gives to all life, breath, and all things" (Vs 25)

"For in Him we live and move and have our being" (Vs 28)

I loved that:  "have our being." I chose to say God is our life-support because if you've ever seen a life-support machine, you know it's doing all the work. It does the breathing--which is our life, right? I mean, without breath, we are dead. So, in essence, the life-support does for us what we cannot do on our own. 

There have certainly been moments in my life, seasons where I needed God to breathe for me because I didn't have the strength to breathe on my own. But other times, I think that God as our life-support is, instead, a picture of what our dependence on Him ought to look like.

I touched on this last week when I talked about the presence of the Holy Spirit being with us. Because of that truth, we have access to His power. We can instead operate out of the power of His grace by walking in the strength, the life, of His spirit. 

For me, I am still learning what this means - the daily, hourly choice to choose His Spirit in me over my flesh and my own strength. I don't always live it, and I certainly don't have a formula or steps for doing it. But, here is what I do know: When I choose Him, when I choose to sacrifice my time, when I choose quality relationship over quantity time, He strengthens me and allows me to accomplish abundantly, exceedingly more than I could ask or imagine (Eph 3:20).