A garden once grew here. You never would know, it had two lovely rivers-they flowed into one. But that garden is gone now, those rivers dried too. Nothing green here can grow-it’s all dead. Cold and blue.
Now, where is the gardener? And why did he leave? Should he not have worked harder? Or pulled up his sleeves? See this garden he loved once, he kept it so well. But he thought over time, it could fend for itself! So the weeds quickly grew-it became a great chore. All he now saw was work-he saw beauty no more.
The flowers died first-yes, they wilted defeat. As their beauty was scorched, they died slowly in the heat. When this gardener came home and he saw what he’d done, he chose not to help them-in shame, he had run! So next came the grass, all the trees, and the shrubs. Then the rivers dried up-they left stones-not one grub!
A haunted, cold wasteland this plot had become. Till the True Gardener came and He paused with great love. But the ashes of flowers cried out when they saw, “Please don’t look on our shame-grief has left us too raw!” So He started to weep-He sat down in their crust, “I can see your great beauty! There are pearls in this dust!”
Listen My flowers! My delicate doves! You still have your colors, you still have MY love! Yes, I hired that gardener, he worked for a wage. He took care of you only-till his debts were all paid. But I am the one who created your stems! I made all your petals! From dirt-I made gems! See your purpose and love comes from Me and not man-only I know your worth! Only I know your plan!
I’ll create you like new so repeat after me! “Dry bones of this garden-now live! You are free!” To these dead river beds, I’ll command-I won’t beg! You will now fill with water-no plants shall be dead! Now the man that mistreated and hurt your soft heart. Felt a shame just like yours and it tore him apart. So now that I’ve shown you to trust only in Me-I’ll help you forgive him-as I did-on My tree.
So a desert once sat here, you never would know, wasted and empty-not one thing would grow. But that desert is gone now, He filled it with trees. He created two rivers and He gave it His breeze!
Look close and you’ll see him-that gardener man. See the flowers forgave-when he left, when he ran. He now works in this garden-he won’t take a wage. Because grace sets you free from shame’s haunting dark cage.
Written by Katie Gazboda