|
|
|
One day I walked along a solitary way, enjoying all the things I saw: The Daffodil; the Meadow Lark; the rolling fields of hay.
When suddenly, along this solitary way I happened on a sight that well nigh took my breath away.
There, standing all alone, well hidden from the prying eye, A flower bloomed, more fair than all the rest.
Its tender beauty, bathed in gentle scent, Compelled the fleeting glance to stay and gaze.
I wondered why a God so wise should waste this gift of beauty rare, Where human eye could not appreciate or peer or gaze or stare.
As I stood there amid my quiet and solitary way A light shown round-about me brighter than the sun. And in that light a man stood clothed all glistering in white:
"Why dost thou ponder, son of man?", He softly said to me "This flower is not wasted, as thy thoughts would say to thee "But for the pleasure of her Maker doth this flower bloom.
"The flowers of this world are Wonderful, and men do love them well, "But show Me, where on earth is found another such as this.
"Nay, this plant shall not adorn a vase nor decorate a room. "No praises will she hear from men nor ribbons shall she win.
"For with a special, tender, loving care the Master chose this spot, "That she might grow and bloom for Him; this plant of beauty rare."
"Son of man," He said again, "You see an ordinary plant, "Whose beauty comes from standing still; beholding only God "While others are content to please and serve and do:
"This plant is perfectly content to be what God intended it to be. "And so, each morning 'ere the sun is risen high, "The Master sends an unseen One, her petals to bedew; "And thus enlivened by His touch, she reaches up in gratitude,
"To love, to praise, to worship Him; and simply to adore "This loving, gracious, tender God who bathes her in His love. "So all the beauty you behold is but His love in her reflected. "Just an ordinary planting of the Lord, extraordinarily protected."
Many a life seems wasted on the ordinary duties Love has bound them to. They would be out where the heathen are dying; not mopping a floor. They would be preaching from a pulpit; not working in a store. They would be healing 'the sick; not changing bed-pans. But God, whose we are, has something far, far greater in mind than mere service: He is after bringing us into such a state of inward brokenness, and inward shatteredness that we become united with Him in spirit and our hearts beat as one heart; our minds are one with His in thought and purpose, and God is all. How "hum-drum" is the work which patience must do. Yet, how necessary to the breaking which produces the yieldedness of a sacrificial spirit so characteristic of the Lamb of God. "In your patience possess ye your souls." (Lu.2l:19). No man, regardless of who he is or what he does, is of much use to God until he understands that God never intended him to be a "great man". We must decrease that He might increase. God uses little things, broken things, weak things, ordinary things, foolish things, and even base things - so that the excellency may plainly be of God and not-of man. Child of God, is it your lot to labor long and hard at tasks which most reckon as ordinary and of little seeming value? Do you find yourself in some out-of-the-way place and feel at times as if God has overlooked you? Never fear! You are in intensive care! You're in the hands of the Master Potter, Who is intent upon forming a vessel of honor. Is it your lot to sweep the floor; to dig the ditch; to clean the sewer? Do it with joy unto the Lord right where He, in wisdom, has planted you, and you'll be surprised one day by how many passers-by your life (the reflection of Christ in you) has arrested in their tracks to the glory of God the Father, Who doeth all things well.
|