I have been fascinated by the story of Job in Scripture for quite some time. It has brought solace during hard times with its unexpected response of wisdom to Job’s suffering. I am especially intrigued by the fact that after Job’s horrific and traumatic tragedies, the book spends a lot of time detailing the many words of both Job and his friends, who try to figure out the reason for Job’s suffering.
God is silent, until finally He shows up through a whirlwind in chapter 38, and His response is to take Job on a nature walk. God talks about the foundations of the earth and the cosmos, and how He takes care of the lion, the goat, the donkey, the wild ox, the ostrich and many other wonders of creation. There is an entire chapter on the great and mysterious Laviathan creature. I have always been baffled by this. What do these things in nature have to do with Job’s suffering? God seems to put Job in his place by talking about how he cares for creation, instead of addressing Job’s concerns. I wonder if there is something in this for us too?
As with the practice of lectio divina (divine reading and praying of Scripture), visio divina (praying with your eyes) is where you reflect through a piece of art or an image to enter into prayer with God. One of my favorite ways to practice visio divina is to listen to what God might bring to my attention in nature – maybe an image that pops up in something I read, in a story or in Scripture, or something that evokes awe and wonder while I go on a walk. Creation is alive and speaks as Psalm 19:1-4 so poetically describes about the heavens. It personifies night and day, who declare the glory of the Lord and proclaim his handiwork, “their voices can’t be heard—but their sound extends throughout the world; their words reach the ends of the earth” CEB.
Nature has given me metaphors for my spiritual walk, and sometimes they have been illustrated sermons. I often notice something that stirs or catches my attention, and then meditate on it for days, weeks, or even years. John O-Donahue says, “take time to notice the quiet miracles that seek no attention.” I try not to look for it, but let it show up and speak for itself as I listen. When something catches my attention, I ask God what he wants me to see, then I wait.
God has especially drawn me to meditate on birds, the skies, trees, and especially flowers leading me to look up any scriptures that mention them. About 12 years ago, I was drawn to behold a dandelion. I cannot fully explain why, but I became intrigued by it and was drawn to its beauty. This flower I had considered a weed for so long, suddenly became beautiful. I watched a video of it over and over again of its one month lifespan on a two minute time lapse. Watching it grow from the ground into a shoot, and then a bud that suddenly bursts into a bright yellow bloom. Then all of a sudden it closes up into what looks like a dead bud for several weeks. And then transformation happens and it explodes into a perfect white majestic globe with hundreds of seeds ready to be blown by the wind and reproduce. I still behold the glory of the dandelion.
As I have reflected on the dandelion, I have resonated with it but also resisted its life cycle, feeling I am God’s flower, challenged by the way it grows. I have resisted the death of the seed that gives birth to life. I have often felt like a tight bud that just will not bloom. I have resisted being closed up again, wrestling through the gestation periods, and disappointed by all the waiting. I have especially resented the timing and brevity of the flower’s life span – “here today and gone tomorrow,” uncertain about God’s care for me and resistant to the way God has created me to likewise grow and change and transform within.
Jesus speaks in Matthew 6:30 about of the treasure of flowers, that “not even king Solomon is displayed as one of them. And if God cares for them and dresses them so beautifully, won’t God do much more for us?”
… to see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower,
William Blake
hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.
This is true for the dandelion, which tells the story of Christ. An almost invisible humble seed grows upward into a temporary public golden bloom, while also going downward into the dark earth. It dies and resurrects into a brief translucent globe, then breathed on by the wind of the Spirit, giving its seeds until it has nothing left, and then taken into unknown places to produce new life through
humanity to display his glory. In what stage of the dandelion, a picture of the life of Christ, do you most relate to in this season of your life?
“Heaven in a wildflower,” … “infinity in the palm of your hand”
~ William Blake
