Photo by Freysteinn G. Jonsson on Unsplash
She’s a good friend.
I met her doing something we both loved – a downhill ski trip at University. We became fast friends, singing loudly, goofing off, and obnoxiously yelling at those below as we rode the chairlift that weekend. In the evening, over hot chocolate and quiet talks, there were many similarities in the hurts we had experienced, the focus of our lives, and the path our futures were leading us toward.
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It seems God had brought us together and blessed our friendship with a small piece of His love that we could offer each other.
And so the friendship grew.
And then came the bomb
It landed beside the little plant God was nurturing, our friendship. The blast ripped bits of the plant, and oh, the pain! The pain in God’s heart was unbearable, breaking His heart too.
And oh!
How God mourned! He mourned for the future leaves and blossoms and roots that this little plant hadn’t yet had time to grow. He mourned for the hungry people who would come to this little plant looking for the fruit it was to grow to satisfy their hunger pains.
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He mourned that instead of refreshing juicy fruit that would strengthen them, they would find only a withered, dry plant – a few leaves and a twig.
Photo by Przemyslaw Zientala on Unsplash
And oh, how the heart of God aches when friendships are spoiled!
We sat nearby, watching, startled at His suffering. Our hearts felt only indignation towards the other. And God tore his shirt, as the ancients did in a time of great mourning, His outer garment reflecting the state of His heart, broken.
Our sin was ripping the little plant apart, threatening its very survival.
Wounded!
“How can I show My love to this world,” He asks sorrowfully, “when My people don’t dwell together in unity? How can those hungry, sick souls taste love when you don’t give and receive it to and from each other?” He rocks back and forth in lament.
“How can My world be beautiful like a garden when the flowers of friendship and love among My people, a people called by My name, do not grow? How can others find their way to My heart by following a path of beauty if no beauty is found among my chosen flowers? How can you live without love?” He pleads
And so we, too, finally catching the Father’s heart in our own, rend our clothes and rock back and forth in the ancient posture of lament.
How have I allowed sin to hold back the growth in the relationships He has gifted me?
And so we run to our lost friend, like the Father of the prodigal son to his lost child.
When he was still a long way off, his father saw [his son]. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him.
We offer our hearts to our distant friend, like the cold elder brother finally offering love to his Father.
His father said, ‘Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours . . . ”
Together, we friends lift our hearts to God, broken and damaged. We come together, limping and wounded, from the damage we caused each other to our heavenly Father, and we ask for the oil of healing* for us and our friend.
And He is pleased.
The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life that is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.
And the plant now mending* and with roots twisting together in love, can face any storm. And the fruit is only a matter of time.
So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.
Footnotes
*Examples of God pouring oil of healing over us as individuals and as relational creatures are discussed here and in future posts.
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