Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Springtime Apostrophe!

Everything looks so green, so lush, so beautiful when its in bloom and growing. Its not until Summer and the harvest time comes that you see what has truly had a purpose in its beauty.

As the flowers bud and the grass grows and the fields begin to sprout, you see everything so green...so bright, so lovely. But weeds grow along side the flowers and the grass and tares next to wheat. So while yes, the beauty of so much lush greenery is breathtaking, the usefullness and purpose (or lack there of) becomes apparent and obvious only after a time.

As the summer comes and the flowers grow and bloom, and the grass grows emerald green and beautiful and the wheat bends and sways in the wind, you see the weeds grow and begin to show their twisted fruit. As they grow, they spread, trying to choke out the other plants, to take their nutrients and sunlight. They dry out and the thorns and thistles begin to harden. They are a plague to man. They get stuck in your clothes in your shoes, they bother you and you wish they never existed. Really...who really, in their hearts, wishes weeds existed?

This is to illustrate, that even in nature, God illustrates that there are creations made for honor and beauty and creations made for dishonor. Is it fair? Who are you, finite man, to say what is fair? Who are you, in your less than 2000 years of oh-so-underwhelming technological advancements and knowledge, somehow manage to find more ways to spit in the face of an Almighty God that will one day judge you? To wag your finger in the face of He who created the planets and named every star? Who are you to assume you know how to lead your life, which is like an ant that you see eek along so slowly and seemingly aimlessly? Listen to the call of He that can save you, who wishes to love you more than anyone or anything on this planet could ever hope to. The One true God whose knowledge is folly to the "itelligent" of this world. Or else, be like the weeds, that are cursed by every soul; and when the harvest comes, is cut down and thrown in the furnace to burn.

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