“….the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom.” -Isaiah 35:1 NIV
The other day I acted in a way that was far from Christlike. My mind looped over and over on all the things I wished I could change but couldn’t. Sadness and frustration laid claim to the situation, and I just wanted to have a re-do.
If I had ruby red slippers could I click my heels together and be transported to the time just before all this? Because there’s no place like regret, and I didn’t want to stay there.
You’ve been there, I know. When your world isn’t bright, isn’t cheery.
You wish you had acted better. You knew better. They say when you know better, you do better. But what about all the times you did know better and still didn’t do better?
You’ve listened to so many amazing sermons, you’ve spent so much time with God, you’ve memorized favorite scripture. And still, still, this mess occurred and you feel like you ruined the streak of good behavior you had going.
But oh, that streak? Has it been your golden calf? Have you relied on your performance over relying on the Perfector of your faith?
So in the hours and days after what I thought of as my massive failure, I focused on light over shadows, color over black and white.
I told myself that all things work for my good and His glory, even this situation. I told myself that in exchange for ashes, I get beauty. I told myself that my shame over this situation was already nailed to the cross. I told myself that He makes all things new.
I am a new creation, not called by the name of my sin but called redeemed and lovely and His.
And then one day very shortly after the event, while hiking on a trail through the snowy woods in early March, I thought of what was hidden within the land, soon to bloom. I envisioned myself as a new creation unfolding and unfurling and blooming forth like a flower opening up to the sun. And also, the Son. I thought of the hopefulness of spring and how there has always been hope for me, too. As sunrises are new each morning, as His mercies are new each morning, this situation would be new in His hands, too, and as gorgeous as the sun cresting vibrant over the hills with the coming day.
As gorgeous as the land Dorothy saw when she opened up the door to a world that captivated and mesmerized her with its color.
Because He makes all landscapes and all situations and all things new. Not just new once, only to get broken and tarnished again. But newness over and over. Evergreen, everblooming, showstopping newness.
He is the God of never-ending beginnings.
When I got back home from that trail, Jesus led me to Isaiah 35:1, “…the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom.” He used my botanical musings on that trail to lead me to this scripture.
The wilderness will blossom.
The wilderness.
The exact place where you are experiencing shame, pain, regret, sadness, anger, sin, frustration? THAT place will blossom. THAT place will look beautiful. You don’t have to ignore it, gloss over it, pretend it didn’t happen, cover it up. That place will be transformed by His magical hands because He is a master Gardener, tending to the miracle. Because He loves you and wants you to see His love for you. He wants you to see how beautiful the ugliest parts of your past can look when His hand is on them, and so that you will know it was none other than God Himself who lovingly grew you a meadow of wildflowers.
This desert, this wilderness, that looks so ugly and unpromising and so permanent? Its ugliness is the perfect complementary color palette to the gorgeousness that Jesus wants to grow on that land. And that gorgeousness is surely coming.
It may still feel a little messy and shame-filled now, but He is showing me the transformation He is working on my situation. The great exchange. The sinful, anger-filled situation is being transformed crocus by colorful crocus into dazzling Technicolor good, looking nothing like what it had looked like to me before. Completely unrecognizable. Changed. A vibrant vista of loveliness from the exact place of my shame. Not after it or before it. It’s not loveliness sandwiching an ugly patch. It is loveliness through the ugly patch, from the ugly patch.
Renewal is coming. Always. Everblooming. As sure as the first crocus after the winter.
Renewal for me. Renewal for you, His daughter.
Unlike the wizard in the movie, there are no smoke and mirrors or illusions with God. There is just a perfect Painter. Trust God for the Technicolor. Let Him paint your landscape with hope and promise and color. It might not come in the timing you want, but it will come in His perfect timing.
And then tell others about His blooming, bursting, vibrant ways. Help change someone else’s black and white landscape. Help bring them to the land where Jesus is infinitely better and more powerful than the wizard of Oz.
Allison Whiting
