THE LORD'S LILIES OF THE FIELD
"Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."
[Luke 12:27, The Holy Bible, KJV]
We Are The Lord's Lilies Of The Field, Lovingly Nurtured And Revived, In The Valley Of The Shadow Of Death.
We are the Lord's lilies of the field, perfected and nurtured, in the valley of the shadow of death. We are frail lilies of trembling dew, who bow their heads and quietly weep, beneath the burden worldly sorrow, in the dark forest of affliction. The lilies that huddle and crowd together in the alpine field, who tenderly rise from the damp dirt and for a brief while, every frail flower displaying its glory in the sun. This moment of morning to midday, experienced by every new bud, held tenderly in the mind of the Maker, who, as they perish, gives them life forever.
And oh, what a beautiful gift, when two delicate snow petalled solitary flowers, momentarily intertwine, when they become the one flower growing together. But what anguish, when the long night begins to creep along the western edge of the rocky slope and the flowers, through their own frailty, fall apart, one from the other, by their own deaths simultaneously, crushed petals eaten by the dry dust.
For we are perishing flowers together, in a perishing world, a prison under curse and judgment, and in order to leave, we must let go of the other, the one whom we swore to protect, each relationship the mirror, a human heart, that reflected our own spirit, longingly back to us. We must let go of these companions who pass by us, no matter how mournful their cry, who can never sustain us beyond this life, as we each must depart in our own way. To fall in love, is to embrace death, not only of oneself, but of the other and of the relationship. We must travel together under Christ. Our love will never die, when the perfect love of Christ comes first.
While the legendary romances of life, will fade with the last twilight of this world, Jesus knows his flowers and he will come to collect the best part of us, that was given to Him by God and which could only be sustained by him. For to love Christ, is to love eternally and to be holy as he is holy, each frail flower of grief, to be tenderly gathered into his cloth, by his gentle hands still shining from the wounds and his eyes that will glisten with sorrow and concern, while the fallen world still persists, for those who hear his voice, in some small way, will also know his heart.
This solitary harvester, who planted the seeds of life, throughout the worlds to pass and the worlds to come, is the only one who will make us live again. Then will we know what it truly means to abide in love. And so, we tremble in the long dark wind of the perishing earth, having known somewhere within, the glory of God who created us and who loves us still, and as the sun sets, as it must do, upon all the valleys and mountain tops, we cling to the promise of one who rises up, within our failing bodies and frail hearts. He who is greater than the foundation of the earth and who is brighter than the sun, the living stone, that we build our faith upon.
So now when we stand, each lily spoken into being and perfected by him, each lily opening her centre of pollen, under His perfect guidance and by His perfect timing, we stand against the brutal season of time and the accursed climate of death and the long dark night of malice of the evil one, and we shine in our brief moment here, now watered by The Word aside from the rain and now lit by The Word apart from the sun. For we are the lilies of the field, that Jesus loves to sustain, with his pure tears of joy and we stand together because we stand with him who loves us.
We do not perish as the world around us does, but we grow ever brighter, in that shadow that moves down the valley, beneath the nurturing comfort of His holy presence. And even when the valleys move past midnight, of the last autumn day and into the first winter night silenced by snow, even then perhaps, to the last cold sunrise seen by the world, The Lord's lilies of the field will shine brighter now, without stem or leaf or petal to hold them upright and without the perfume, that once scented by the early morning dew, would bring butterfly like tiny sails before the chill wind and birdcall for miles and miles and smaller creatures still, that live only for a day, for as the last sun sets upon this valley of life and death, The Lord's lilies will stand in the fields, living by a light brighter than the sun, in the undying fields of flourishing lilies, oh, see how they sway and bend for Him, in the sweet gardens of paradise, prepared just for them, in the lit unending kingdom of God.
We Are The Lord's Lilies Of The Field, Lit From Within, Perfected And Sustained, By the One Who Is Perfect. |
