among the trees of the Gardensci fi book reviews

"...and You said,

'i know that this will hurt.

but if i don't break your heart, then things will just get worse.

if the burden seems too much to bear,

remember:

the end will justify the pain it took to get us there.'"

{relient k--let it all out}

---

spring is here.

i smell it--that spring smell--when i walk to my car in the morning.

i see it in the late afternoon sun drifting lazily through the sheer curtains in my bedroom.

but i was sure of it this week, as i was stopped in traffic on newport boulevard

next to a row of perfectly pink cherry blossoms, dancing delicately on the tree branches to which they belonged.

i couldn't help but breathe it in and feel a deep sense of peace run like oxygen through my blood,

and know that as it is spring in orange county, so it is with my soul.

---

almost a year ago, july 2010, i moved down to orange county. partially to get out of sacramento, partially to be closer to my boyfriend living in los angeles, completely because God was leading me here.

i spent every weekend with ethan for almost 3 months straight, until he left for Marine boot camp in october. then, it was just me. just me--and God.

the second weekend after ethan had gone, i went to church for the first time in almost a year. the sermon was awesome and i felt relieved to be back, until it came time for communion. for the first time in my 15 years of faith, i did not take part in remembering the death and resurrection of Christ. instead, i curled my knees up my chest and within the darkness of the church sanctuary, i cried until it was time to go home. i felt as though He had left me. and i knew that, if it was true, it was well-deserved. i had no idea how to get back to where i had been such a long time ago. i had no idea how to feel Him again.

it still hurts remembering that night almost 7 months ago. but little did i know, that night marked the beginning of a journey back into the Garden where my Savior, my God resides, waiting for me. calling my name.

"the LORD God called...and said...'Where are you?'" (genesis 3:9)

i hadn't heard that voice in a long time and i knew the same God in the garden that day is the same God who never stopped whispering to my heart, even after i had left. who still whispers even now.

and so it began--the journey, not back to His heart, but to letting Him back into mine.

that journey has been painful, but beautiful, nonetheless. God has shown me who He is--that the God i serve is not a big white, bearded man on a throne, but a multi-faceted Lover and Warrior who is weaved into each and every molecule and moment this universe holds. He has shown me His love for me to such great extents that at moments i feared my heart would explode from it. He has shown me that i am His and that He fights for and pursues my heart daily. He has shown me that my plans for me are not always His plans for me. He has shown me that no matter how much i fight it, His timing is, indeed, perfect. He has taught me that while it is important to remember where i came from, and beautiful to plan for the future, today is where He has me and today is where i should always be present.

i have forfeited a lot of myself in this process, and though at times, i have clung to the security of what i know, He has gently pried those things from my finger and given me more of Himself. most of the time, i am not sure why. i am so undeserving. but i find that after i open my hands to what He has for me, all i want is more.

i can say these things easily now, because in this moment, i have found my perfect place at His feet. but being with Him is sometimes a hard journey, one i am not always sure i want to endure.

in the end, though, what choice do i have? i have known the bliss of being close to my Savior and i have known the pain of being separated from him. i have no choice but to push forward and trust the process.

and so, onward i go. and the more i move forward, the more i see the beauty of it all, even in the pain of the process.

because in the pain, there is letting go. understanding,

and eventually, death to self.

people say Christians must "die to themselves" as if it is merely a choice. in some circumstances, i'm sure it is.

but death is in the spiritual as it is in the physical: a process.

you are not born to simply die, but to live. and in living, our sin takes a toll on our bodies and we are slowly, but surely, decaying.

such as i see it is with my heart.

daily, my heart is burdened and tired by people and things and my own self-importance.

and as my heart grows weary, i am then aware of a Voice asking me to hand old things over, to give them up, to let them die, so that He can give me something better, something brand new.

as painful as life can be in those dying moments, i must admit that the death feels good. the letting go of the old and trusting that the new will come brings peace.

"We are not meant to die merely in order to be dead. We die in order to live.

A seed falls into the dark earth and dies.

Out of its death comes multiplied life."

{"passion and purity"--by elisabeth elliot}

---

Genesis 3:9 (above) is one of my favorite verses in all of Scripture.

sin had just entered the world by way of disobedience. it came in the form of human longing for power and our desire to be God.

and so, as forbidden fruit made its way onto human lips, the bridge from heaven to earth was broken.

yet, in this scene, God is not found in high heavenly places, far-removed from our sin.

He is here. walking in the Garden. still longing for relationship. longing for us.

"where are you?"

and i imagine God's feet pressing down on the grass in that Garden, His heart heavy with the knowledge of a different Garden scene. a Garden scene that was already being spun in time. The Garden Scene--the one that will cue the beginning of the story of our Redemption.

the Ultimate story of pain, death, and finally,

new life.

{source}

i know that sometimes i am as adam and eve--in the Garden, hiding from the One who knows. yet strangely enough, He does not leave me to die in these fig leaves with which i have covered myself. instead, He stays there--whispering, waiting.

He knows what i have done and yet, nothing has changed.

instead, if i were to come out of hiding, i would find the hand of Love outstretched in my direction.