"I will have mercy, and not sacrifice: for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." -Matthew 9:13
If I learned anything from AP Poetry last year, it was to recognize a metaphor when I saw one. Although we spent hours memorizing the definitions of countless literary devices, that particular one was pounded into our poor Advanced Placement heads until every other sentence we made turned into a comparison of some sort (most of which were not nearly profound enough to count as metaphors...but I attribute that to the poor eating and sleeping habits of DA students). Since then I may not have improved my eating or sleeping habits, but I do occasionally still attempt to make a metaphor. Whether they have become more profound is highly questionable, but that doesn't detract from the fun of trying to be creative. :)
Lately, I've been messing with the idea of finding a metaphor for the soul. It seems as though such an abstract concept should have some way of materializing in our limited brains, and, according to every poetry class I attended, the way to do that is by comparing it to a more tangible concept. Well, I've finally found one that I like: A garden. Imagine every soul as it's own private garden, beautifully unique to that person. Just like fingerprints and the way we see rainbows, no two gardens would be completely alike, and of course, just as God has so perfectly planned out our lives, each would be laid out in a specific way. And I'm going to go even further (ooh, Mrs. Mac would be proud..an extended metaphor!). While the various types of plants themselves reflect the personality of the person, the state of the plants reflects the state of the person's soul. With the added weight of each sin, the leaves and flowers droop more and more, eventually wilting altogether. When overcome with sin, our gardens become veritable wastelands--the remnants of our beautiful plants now turned to brittle twigs, mere skeletons of their former glory. But it doesn't end there, otherwise nobody would have much of a garden left at all. This is where repentance and forgiveness enter in.
For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.-Psalm 86:5
How wonderful that we are not left alone to destroy these gardens, but God provides a gardener-- a sort of clean up crew-- in the form of Confession, to clear away the dead parts of our soul and coax it into growth again. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says,
"Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."
Become new. That phrase means that we are given the grace to renew our souls each time we confess our sins and beg for forgiveness. It means that God has promised to not only forgive our sins--not only to clear away the wilted flowers-- but also to make us new. The most powerful part of the Passion movie for me (aka, the scene/line that made me cry the most) was when Jesus falls (I forget which time) and His mother goes running towards him. He slowly lifts his head, and in the midst of all his pain and exhaustion says, "Behold, I make all things new." Woah. That part really hit me hard..made me realize exactly what His Passion was all about. Of course, I always knew what it was about, but that one line, spoken quietly to Mary in the middle of a jeering mob of soldiers really drove it home.
So, back to the garden, because I'm not quite ready to let this metaphor thing go yet. ;) If you really want to extend it (and I really do, because I'd like to see how far I can take this), think about what happens to the dead remains of our garden. Well, I've never been much of a gardener, but having killed many potted plants in my life, I do know where dead flowers go: the compost (At least in our family they do, because we are just that cool that we have a compost.). And in the compost, they decay and become very nutrient-filled fertilizer, which we then spread on our garden to feed the plants and help them grow. Even in our little metaphorical garden the dead flowers have a purpose. God often uses these sins of ours that seemingly destroy to bring about new life. Like when people say we'll learn from our mistakes. Obviously we don't want to make the mistakes to start with, but once it's been done, we, at the very least, learn the negative consequences, often we even benefit from the bad experiences because they help us with choices later on. And this is all because God keeps His promise of renewing our soul in Confession.
Not that I like confession any more than I like gardening. Pulling up ugly memories of unkind words, jealous feelings, and all the sins I've committed since the last time: namely, dead plants, is a dirty, smelly business (metaphorically speaking, that is..unless I forgot to put on deodorant that day ;). But when it's over and they're swept neatly away into the compost, I can feel the new seeds planted and they promise to bring on a garden even more beautiful than before. And, taking everything into account, it seems as though, while we may have been cast out of the Garden of Eden, we have never really become too far removed from that garden. We carry a little piece of it inside us, and when we finally manage to get our own little plots in order, we'll be allowed back in to the real Garden.
There, I believe I've exhausted my ramblings on gardens, both heavenly and earthly, metaphorically and physically. :) Coincidentally, I also have a song to add that really just fits with the theme of the post. It's a kind of dorky video...the lyrics sort of spasmodically jump in and out of the screen at parts, but the song itself is beautiful. It's by Christian artist, Matt Maher.
Oh, and look, someone else was on the same track with the whole garden theme. :D
"Truly charity has no limit; for the love of God has been poured into our hearts
by His Spirit dwelling in each one of us, calling us to a life of devotion and inviting us to bloom in the garden where He has planted and directing us to radiate the beauty and spread the fragrance of His Providence."- St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622)
