A Lesson from the Sunflower

Psalms 42:11 “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.”

Sunflowers…Their big, beautiful, bold heads that always turn towards the sun… Their obsession with the light that spills into the very color of their petals… They are my promise from my Abba, Father in the valley of the shadow.  They were His token of comfort to me – that if I would simply keep holding my face up to His light He would lead me safely through.  I stepped into that promise, letting everything else that was overwhelming and terrifying around me fade to the background, and I fixed my eyes on Him.

That was three years ago.  I am no longer bedridden most days, and I have more energy, less pain and muscle spasms, and more clarity in my thinking.  I can walk with some sense of balance and coordination and my speech is no longer slurred.  Yet, I still work with a very compromised body and my world is very small.  The road back to restoration has been evasive at times.

The other day I was going through another difficult flair up.  My husband had stopped on his way home to get some groceries for me (since I wasn’t going to be doing the grocery shopping).  When he arrived he had a huge, beautiful bouquet of sunflowers for me.  How my heart drank them in!  You see, this year we were renting and so I had not been able to plant any in the yard.  I was delighted!  While I busied myself getting them in water, my husband said, “I was on my way out of the store when I passed by these bouquets.  The Lord prompted me to get some for you and to tell you that He has not forgotten you…That you are still His special girl.”

I cried, and I took courage again.  The way is not easy – but one of the first, surest, truest, deepest lessons I have had burned into my soul over the past three years is that I must keep looking towards the Light. The fears, the anxieties, the despair, the anger, the bitterness, the resentment, the false guilt, the shame…it must give way to the Son.  These emotions, even though they may have a very valid reason, need to fall by the wayside.

I am innately broken.  I was born with a soul that was fractured by sin.  And every single thing that touches my life is a but an avenue through which my Saviour seeks me out to restore my soul to Himself.  It is a quiet work, a gentle work – but a critical work if I am ever to truly heal.  When I yield to Him and surrender myself to His internal work He cleanses my wounds and becomes the Balm of Gilead to my aching heart.  He does not just mend the places that are obvious to me, but with the tenderness of a Gardener, sets about to heal the places I did not even know about.  He does not forsake me no matter how long or messy the process is.  He speaks softly over me; words of comfort, peace, and healing.  And He is committed to taking as long as it takes for me to be truly well and strong.  By then, I will have grown such a love for Him, such a dependence on His presence, such an eager delight in His voice, that I will ever after seek to stay close to His side.

Too often being well robs us of the stillness to even hear His voice. Too often pain and suffering distracts us from the deeper work of being healed within.  We want to be better – to get on with life.  We fight and chafe and strain against our current circumstances.  Worry, fear, anxiety, stress and a thousand other emotions weigh us down. There are many things the sunflower could worry about – whether or not the soil is right, or if there has been enough rain, or if her root system is adequately transforming the energy of the sun into something useable, or whether the temperature will be right or not, or the birds picking her seeds prematurely – and the list goes on.  But she is unconcerned about all of that.  Every day she is bent on one thing, and one thing only – to find the sun – and then she spends the rest of her day glorying in His presence.  Although far from perfect at this, I have set my heart to learn this simple lesson.

1. I take time to be still.  Even in the turbulence, we must choose to still our soul, and to tryst with Him at the fountain of living waters.  Pain and suffering have a way of agitating us; of stirring up an irritability in the soul because there is no “safe place” to simply unwind and forget.  This is the idea of distress and perplexities – they push in upon us and rob us of the sense of comfort and security.  Sometimes in our trial, we seek to be busy and surround ourselves with noise because it frightens us to face reality.  It is not a pleasant thing to feel one’s helplessness, to be alone with overwhelming odds and questions that have no answers.  But it is in stillness that we are assured that He is God.  It is where His still small voice speaks – where He cleanses our wounds and heals our diseases.  If we are to heal, we must embrace this process with joy, to let His peace in and relax back into His love.  To let His calm, His declared heart to us, enter our mind and soul and do its work of renewing our mind.
2. I take the time to relax with a cup of tea, and remember… The way He carried me when I was too weak to go on myself… The way He encouraged my heart when the way seemed too steep… The way He provided exactly what we needed when the time was right… The way He protected me even when I didn’t know I was in danger… The way He spoke peace, love, healing, and restoration to my broken and undeserving soul. And in the remembering, I find the courage to hope.
3. I choose intentionally, to fix my gaze on Him no matter what the day may bring forth. I look up into His countenance that is filled with delight over me.  I glory in the joy written there – knowing that He too despised shame for a season as well.  I am swept with awe over the compassion etched in His expression, knowing that it is born out of the fact that He too was made perfect through suffering.  Looking up and beholding the Son breathes peace over me.
4. And when I feel the pressure mounting, and my head feels too heavy to look up, I look back and trace His goodness and promises throughout the ages and to me personally. I know, He has not forgotten me.  He has carved my name in His hands and etched it upon His heart.  He is the Balm of Gilead, and His expressed desire is to restore my soul with no qualifiers or conditions.  I rejoice today in all that He is and find that praise gives me wings to fly above my trials.

Dear one, are you sick? Weighted down with infirmities and distresses? Beset behind and before with circumstances beyond your scope of endurance?  Are you pressed beyond measure?  It’s okay.  You are safe in His everlasting love.  It is simply time to look up, and discover that hope, peace, and praise are powerful healers.