When I look out my window at my lawn, this month’s theme on my blog — flourish — seems ironic! It’s a wasteland here in central Indiana. When I pictured the launch of my new book series, Flourishing Faith, I imagined it in a time of vitality: green grass, prairies of wildflowers, towering corn in the farm field down the street. Instead it’s a landscape of death.
Ever been there . . . in your soul?
Much in life can dry us up, drain us of color and vitality, leaving us brittle, fragile, about ready to blow away like dust. Sometimes the “heat” in our life is just too strong and it fries us. Maybe it’s the heat of overwork; of busyness; of anxiety and stress. It could be the heat of family conflict; the pain of betrayal; the burden of guilt and shame. Life can spin along too fast, worry us too much, hurt too deep.
And before we know it, rather than living a lush, vibrant, flourishing life with God, we’re colorless, lifeless, just a shadow of what we’re meant to be.
My lawn right now looks absolutely dead. (It’s so brittle that I literally cut my foot when walking on it!) But do you know what? Contrary to how things look, it’s not actually dead . . . it’s dormant. In periods of drought, grass has the ability to switch its “focus” to its root system. The blades look dead, but the plant is still alive. It’s hanging on — it’s waiting to wake up. And when conditions change — when it’s spring again and the soil is soaked and the sun is shining, that grass will grow. It may have damage and drought-scarred patches, but there is still life there.
And the same is true of us. If you’re in a drought-season right now, spiritually, hang on. If you’ve got a happy Christian smile on, but inside things feel dry, brittle, and lifeless, don’t give up. Because your vitality can return. Conditions can change. And perhaps you can be part of those changes.
Next time, some thoughts on choices and habits that lead us out of spiritual dryness into soul flourishing.