I am persuaded that we are intended by our Creator to flourish. He created us to blossom and to grow. God wants our lives to be colorful, joyful, full. I am convinced that God does not intend for us to live like miserable little mice, afraid of our own shadows, scurrying for cover every time things get a little tough. He intends for us to flourish.
If our Creator had not intended us to flourish, would He have said, when we were first made, “That’s good, very good”? If God had not wanted us to be free and full of joy, would Jesus have announced that He had come that we might have life and have it more abundantly? Not just a penny-ante piddling sort of life, but life on a grand scale, life full and fulfilled?
God intends for us to flourish. His word says that He sent not His son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might have life. Abundance and joy is what God intends for us.
Then why don’t we have it? Why do so many of us push through our lives as if we were zombies, barely able to make sense of what we are doing? Why do we burn out emotionally, why do our very souls grow weary? Why don’t we have the joy that God intends, and why do we live our lives in such cramped spaces, if God planned for us to flourish?
Just the other day, my wife and I hauled out our garden rakes and went to work on what must have been about a billion wet leaves in our flower beds. We worked hard to get that slimy, chilly stuff carried out to the curb, and were just about to quit, because our energy was flagging, and besides this job is boring! Do you know the feeling – just wanting to give up on something because you don’t really feel you are getting anywhere and it is mind-numbing boring? We were about to give up on this thankless task, but decided to clean one more flower bed. Margaret pushed aside a particularly filthy stack of beech leaves and just gasped! “Look at this!” And when I raised my wondering eyes to behold, what did I see but a tiny red rose, alone of all the flowers of the garden, somehow budding. It was not time for roses; chrysanthemums, maybe, but certainly not roses. And yet there it was, no bigger than a dime, hidden beneath the fallen leaves of autumn, now uncovered and shining with brazen brightness. The last rose of summer? No, a rose blossoming out of due time, flourishing. Small, but bold and flourishing.
I am persuaded that we are intended by our Creator to flourish. He created us to blossom and to grow. Then why don’t we have it? Why do we burn out and live in cramped spaces, if God planned for us to flourish? There is a hint in the rose that bloomed in my garden. There is a lesson in the flower born out of due time, a clue in that tiny red drop of color about God’s plan for us.
The prophet Isaiah, living some 29 centuries ago, was preparing the people of Judah for difficult days that were to come. He could see that the Assyrians were moving against his nation. Isaiah knew that the people’s hearts would wither and that their hopes would dry up. But Isaiah offered a word of hope and promise, and showed the way to a flourishing life. His words ring true for us today.
“The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. ... Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God ... He will come and save you.’”
Rejoice and blossom, blossom abundantly. Again, I am persuaded that it is the will of our God that we may flourish. He created us to blossom and to grow. Then why don’t we have it? Ah, but it comes in small, hidden ways that only faith can see. God intends that we may flourish, and gives us tiny clues, seen by the eye of faith. My garden, my little rose, my joy.
I
Many of us think of our lives as barren. We complain that our lives are dry and deadly dull. We don’t think we have a real purpose for living. Our only plan is to stay alive, pay the bills, and just get by. One of the members of the church I served as pastor, whenever I asked him how things were going, would always say, “Just trying to make it, pastor, just trying to make it.” Every time, the same thing, “Just trying to make it.” I wanted to grab him by the collar and scream in his face, “Man, look at all the Lord has waiting for you!” But his life did not flourish because he had never found a sense of direction. He had never heard what the Bible calls the prize of the high calling of God. He just plodded along, day after day after endless day, each one like the day before. The wilderness was in his heart; the dry land in his mind. But God says that the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad and blossom abundantly. How? God intends that we may flourish, and gives us tiny clues.
Victor Frankl was an Austrian psychiatrist, a Jew imprisoned by the Nazis in a concentration camp. In that camp the young doctor saw people just disappear. He witnessed their torture, he felt the pain of loss and cruelty. And, worst of all, he saw some of his friends wither away and die or even deliberately take their own lives in order to escape Nazi torture.. Frankl says that he began to ask himself what kept him going. Why did he not succumb, why did he not just give up and let the powers of evil do their worst?
Dr. Frankl says that as he reflected, he was able to think of just one or two people – not many, but just a few – one or two people whom he loved and who he knew loved him. He discovered that the thing that kept him going was what he called “the will to meaning.” The will to meaning – if I can put that in everyday language, Frankl discovered that what we must have in order to flourish is the sense that we matter to someone. That we make a difference to somebody, somewhere, that in this vast wasteland there is someone who cares about us. If we have not mattered to anybody, then maybe it wasn’t worth being here. If we have neither loved nor been loved, then maybe it wasn’t worth the effort to breathe! But just knowing that he mattered to one or two people was enough to keep Victor Frankl alive and hope-filled in the concentration camp.
So is it as the cynical song says, “I never promised you a rose garden?” I say no. God does promise a rose garden. God says, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom ... shall blossom abundantly.” If you think your life is barren and dry and without purpose, look around. Someone, somewhere, loves you. From that you can begin to flourish. For God will give you a small sign, like a dime-sized red rose that blooms in the fall, and you will know His joy.
II
But, someone will say, preacher, it is not just that I feel barren and dry. It is not just that I feel useless and worn out and frustrated. It is that I really am used up, I really am just about finished. Preacher, it’s not about what I feel. It’s about where I really am in my life. I’m washed up, I’m too far gone, I’m beyond repair.
Maybe someone here is thinking that by now your chances for real joy are gone. Maybe someone is harboring the idea, “Here I am, and there’s really nothing more for me to do than wait for the grave. I’ve made too many mistakes, I’ve passed up too many opportunities.” Only yesterday I was talking with an old friend about her family, her two adult children. She said, “My son is depressed and my daughter is dissatisfied. Neither of them has any real relationships, neither of them is doing what they want to be doing, and both of them think it’s too late to change.” What a tragedy! Is it possible that some of you are you saying to me, “Preacher, I am nearly finished and cannot go back and change all that.”?
Sort of like what the callous critic Gertrude Stein shrugged off, “A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.” One day after another, one thing as good as another, one life as broken as another. But that’s not what God says. God says that
“The wilderness and the desert place shall be glad ... they eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.”
God promises that out of our limitations He can bring possibilities. Out of our weaknesses, He can bring strength. Out of our timidity and our fear He can bring confidence. It is God’s intention that we may flourish; but, again, if it is tired and old and worn and frustrated that you feel, I tell you he will give you a tiny hint, like a red, red rose in winter, and it will show you what He can do.
I probably should not tell you this, but in less than two months I will celebrate my 69th birthday and begin my 70th year. That means I have come to a time in my life when it would be almost impossible not to look back and realize that there are many things I might have done but did not do and now maybe will not do. But my wife and I found time for a getaway weekend and went to Williamsburg. Our hotel package gave us tickets to Busch Gardens, so we went, feeling a bit out of place. The only other people our age were shepherding their grandchildren around; we felt maybe we should rent a kid in order to justify our being in the park. Well, we came to one of the roller coasters, and I said, “You know, I’ve always wanted to go on one of those, but never have.” My wife said, “I have never wanted to go on one of those, and never will, but you go ahead, and I’ll watch.” And so on board I went, feeling rather self-conscious sitting among twelve-year-olds. As the car took off and climbed to its height, I felt a delicious thrill; but as it crested the peak and then plunged straight down, I chilled with fright. And when it went through a twist and skimmed some water, I just about lost my lunch! Well, when after what seemed like hours the thing stopped and I staggered off, my wife, wise woman that she is, asked, “Now is that the end of your childhood?”
What a thought – the end of my childhood?! Nothing else to learn? No more wonder at the magic of life? No new vistas? But I must tell you as I approach that mysterious 70th year, something is stirring in me to challenge me to new things. Something is driving me to focus on new possibilities. I don’t feel old at all! My knees do, but I don’t! Is it possible that a crazy roller coaster ride among the kids uncovered something in me that wants to try new things and explore new horizons? Is that God’s little hint about what I can become?
I don’t know, but it may be. Because, whatever we’ve done or not done, whatever we think we know or don’t know, our God intends that we may flourish. He opens eyes and clears ears and makes us leap like a deer. Our God gives us small signs to stir our faith.
III
And yet I think I can hear you again, objecting. Preacher, you say that we have meaning if we matter to somebody. And then you say that even though we are tired and frustrated and think it’s too late, you say that the Lord refreshes us and offers us new possibilities. All that’s fine, preacher, but there’s one other thing that holds me back and saps my joy. There’s something else that withers me and keeps me from flourishing. Preacher, what can you say about my sin? What can you say about all that stuff that I’ve done that nobody knows about, but I know about it, and I feel rotten. Are you asking, what about my guilt and my deep, deep shame? I can’t flourish because I’ve made too many mistakes and I’ve hurt people and I know I’ve offended the Lord. Wretched one that I am, who will deliver me from this body of sin?
If you are thinking something like that, you are right on target. For the most fundamental human problem is our sin and what to do with it. This distance from our God, this guilt we carry, this shame we bear. That is indeed what makes our lives barren and fruitless. Sin is indeed the thing that destroys the richness of life and keeps us from flourishing as God intended. But in this Advent season, read with new eyes the promise of the prophet. Isaiah promises,
“A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way ... the redeemed shall walk there, and the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing. Everlasting joy shall be upon their hearts; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”
Men and women, God is providing a way. The holy way, He calls it. The way for the redeemed to walk and the ransomed to tread. What have I argued this morning? What has my premise been? That our God intends that we may flourish and will give us a sign, like a tiny red rose offering its beauty amid the slime of earth.
Brothers and sisters, don’t miss it. It is the babe of Bethlehem, almost unnoticed in this world of terror and torment, who makes all the difference.
It is in this tiny one, blooming like a rose in the desert, that we know we are loved and that we matter. God poured Himself into this tiny package and submitted Himself to life among us to show us how much He loves us. He loves us enough to live among us, to experience our limitations, to die for us. We matter. We are not without purpose. Take heart and flourish, you are loved. God Himself loves you.
It is in this little one, this fragile, dependent, swaddling-clothes clad little one, threatened with destruction by King Herod and placed in poverty under Roman rule – it is in Him, with all His limitations, that we find there is new life. He came, He lived, He taught, He suffered, He died, but He lives again. From cradle through Calvary to the empty tomb He shows us that love will win a way and that in Him frailties do not matter. In Him we can do all things, for He strengthens us. It is His intent that we may flourish.
And most of all, at the very heart of the matter, in Jesus the Christ all sins can be forgiven. In this child, this wonderful child, our deepest need is addressed. In the word made flesh old things are passed away, all things are become new. Sin and death stuff is defeated, and in its place life, life abundant, life that is fresh and clean. Redeemed, restored!
Was it not old Will Shakespeare who suggested, “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”? No, Will, you are wrong. For the only sweet rose I know is Jesus. Only Jesus satisfies my longings. Only Jesus redeems my brokenness. Only the rose which Mary bore can take away my sin and become my heart’s desire. God says we are meant to flourish. He will give us small signs of His intent to fulfill that promise. And in the tiny fragile package born amid the winter’s snow, He roots out the winter of our discontent, and refreshes us.
In less than three weeks my daughter will give birth to a son, if the technology be correct. We have two lovely granddaughters, but now unto us a son is born. And as I anticipate that my mind goes back some sixty-two winters. I was almost seven years old; a few months before my mother had given birth to my baby brother, but it had proved to be too much for her, and she had a nervous collapse. All anyone knew to do was to send her away for rest. And so for nearly a year my grandmother and my great-aunt tried to take care of me and my brother while my father worked and worried. My dad was a letter carrier in the postal service, and so Christmas was utterly exhausting, with long hours and heavy loads. I guess I got a little jealous. I remember saying, “You don’t care about me any more. All you care about is that baby.” Six years old and already a selfish mess! But, can you believe I can remember this? On Christmas Eve, 1944, my dad took me on his lap, enfolded me in his arms, and said, “Joe, I know it’s been a hard year for you. It’s been hard for everybody in the family. But I want you to know that I love you; just remember, Bobby is a baby and can’t take care of himself. He is here for you to learn how to love.”
God says we are meant to flourish. He will give us again and again small signs, infant signs, of His intent to fulfill that promise. “Oh, love that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee. I lay in dust life’s glory dead, and from the ground there blossoms red life that shall endless be.”
