where waves grow sweet

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. Proverbs 3:5

In front of my boss’s house are several rose bushes that explode into vibrant and diverse blossoms. They provide a stunning covering for the front windows and a lovely fragrance as you walk up the pathway. On more than one occasion, I have driven up and noticed a distinct absence of shape and color in the flowerbed. Not only were they devoid of blossoms, but of nearly everything. Pruned to the very core of their being, they looked as naked as shorn sheep and as forlorn as once-glorious trees in the middle of winter.

Which is exactly as I stood last night. Exposed, barren, and heartbroken. All the blossoms that looked so bright and glorious were gone. My branches, along with my expectations, had been hacked away. My temptation was to grab some leaves from the ground and cover myself, like Eve did in the garden. But they had already been collected and disposed of, so I was left naked.

There was little of external significance to provoke this, but an internal revelation of misplaced hope. To think about having to lay down that hope again was, honestly, devastating. My inclination was to be alone, run away, or shut down. Surrounded by people and urgent tasks, all I could do was get through the demands of the night and this morning’s fundraiser… and toss up a plea for help to my very good God.

As always, he was faithful. During a few precious hours alone in the office this afternoon, while doing event follow-up, he drew me into a surrender as deep as any I’ve known. All of the imaginations I had falsely built on were torched on the altar and every true hope was given over as an offering of trust. I wept and was cleansed. A day that began in pain ended in the sweetest of peace, and an overwhelming gratitude for yesterday’s pruning.

The most remarkable thing to me about roses is how quickly they not only recover, but benefit from the seeming severity. Even while stubby exposed branches without a single rose or leaf to display, they can stand confidently in their identity as rose bushes. But even better is that because of what they were created for, there is certainty – particularly in the hands of a caring gardener – that they will blossom again with vibrant new life. How much more will our disappointments, through trust in a masterful Gardener, become magnificently beautiful and fragrant blossoms for all to behold?

Click Here for Good God by Todd Warren