I love my garden. For
some reason, I feel closer to the Lord when I’m working in the dirt, tilling,
planting, weeding, watering, or even just watching the plants grow – if that’s
even possible. I think it’s a point of
relating to my Creator. After all, He’s
the original gardener, responsible for the most famous of gardens. I often imagine what His must have looked
like, and I’ve decided that once I’ve crossed over into His realm, I will spend
a tremendous amount of time exploring a renewed Eden.
Today, as I sat in my garden, I thought of Nathan. I thought of all that our family has suffered
in the previous weeks - the nightmare we’ve each lived through. I didn’t cry, but I was overcome with a mix
of emotions, as I’ve been prone to these last few days. I thought specifically of the role I’ve had
the privilege of playing on behalf of my sister’s family, doing all that I know
to do to be the hands and feet of Jesus during this incredibly harsh time. It’s a role I’d rather not play, to state the
obvious, but I use the word “privilege” intentionally, as I know there is
something eternally precious about getting to love those who are hurting. Once again, I thought of the deep and
profound sorrow that weighs them down during this time and the fact that their
pain causes me to hurt more than I already do over the loss of my nephew. I also thought of how I have learned to set
aside my own sorrow temporarily, in order to be strong for them. As these thoughts filled my head, a separate,
quiet, confident thought entered in and took center stage. I began to think of God as an “old friend”. Now, I’ve learned, over the years, that the
voice of the Lord takes on many forms, but His most consistent tone in my life
is that of a quiet, confident thought.
So I leaned into this thought, and soon found myself being affirmed by
my Father, as a lifelong friend. And
while that might not mean much to you, it tore me up inside, and the tears
began to flow.
Friendship is not cheap, nor is it formed quickly as we’re
prone to think in our warped, 21st century, western culture. Abraham was called a “friend of God”, and
Moses, as it is written in Exodus 33, spoke to God face to face “as a man
speaks to his friend.” Both men had very
profound relationships with their Creator, and I daresay that God will refer to
both as “old friends” throughout eternity.
Both had a history with God that was rich and full. Both walked a road that was rocky and long. Abraham journeyed with God into foreign lands,
and while that journey was obviously a physical one, it was more so profoundly
relational. He became intimately
familiar with God as He ventured into the unfamiliar. Similarly, Moses wandered around in the
wilderness for 40 years, daily facing some extremely harsh conditions. Yet despite facing the threat of starvation,
dehydration, disease, mutiny and even potential exposure to enemy armies, He
experienced some of the most intimate encounters any man has ever experienced
with God. That friendship became so
tangible that he ultimately vowed to not go anywhere without the Presence of
the Lord.
Intimacy carries a price.
It comes through experiences – both good and bad. It’s what happens when we live our lives, no
matter how high the highs or how low the lows, in the constant presence of another. It’s a flow of life between two people, who
dare to open themselves up to one another, during the course of their time here
on Earth. It’s what two people share
that is uniquely theirs and theirs alone.
And friendship with God is the abundance of life that Jesus Himself
spoke of.
During the past few weeks, I have experienced much that I wish
I could simply undo. I would be a
happier person right now if my family hadn’t been hit with this insidious tragedy. What God spoke to me in the midst of the
storm, however, brought me a sense of peace.
These are the trials through which friendship is tested and
strengthened. These are the moments
where we meet God in a new way, and we walk away having been kissed by the
Ancient of Days. If I had a choice, I would undo this horrible
mess. And yet, I could never choose to
unravel the tapestry of intimacy that God has knit in my heart through years of
pain and joy. This is the most difficult
stretch of my life’s journey thus far.
And while on this path, I am prone to loathe it. But the promise from Him is this: walking it will lead
me to a place of familiarity with Him that I would not know otherwise.
This is not my first time around the block. I’ve had some successes, and I’ve skinned my
knees a time or two. I’ve won some battles,
while others were lost. I’ve loved, I’ve
lost. I’ve struggled and I’ve
rested. I’ve even had my teeth kicked
in. But through it all, God and I have
become old friends – His words, not mine.
I’ve always suspected as much.
For my part, I always considered Him my closest friend, even when I wasn’t
very faithful towards Him. But to hear
Him refer to me as an “old friend”… well… that’s worth the price.
