BLOOMERS V. GLOOMERS

“I hate this town!” the newcomer complained to me. “I can hardly wait to move back to my old town.” I don't remember what I replied—maybe to give the town a chance (as I had—and I was now quite comfortable and happy here). But difficult family circumstances had mandated the move. 

I thought about the phrase “bloom where you are planted.” I first heard it back in the 1970s when it was featured on posters showing lovely flowers. That's also when I, new to this town, decided I'd try to bloom, not “bomb out.”

Later I realized the principle was Biblical. The Old Testament's David probably had times of wanting to say, “I don't like living here.” Like, when as God's next-king-designate, David was hiding out in caves to escape murder by a deranged King Saul, whom he would succeed. I'm not sure when in his life he wrote what we call Psalm 37, but it sure speaks of navigating times when life doesn't turn out the way you'd hoped. Yet, of such times of “discombobulation” (I love that word; it means “a time of being upset or confusion”), David was able to declare:

Trust in the Lord, and do good,

Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.

Delight yourself also in the LORD,

And He shall give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him,

And He shall bring it to pass.

He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,

And your justice as the noonday. (Psalm 37:3-6 NKJV)

In other words, wait and see what God can do with your new circumstances. Be willing to flex, maybe learning new job skills and adjusting to new people, who just might bring out your “better self.”

I photographed this rhododendron in early May, when it was at its prime. (It reminded me of an orchid!) A few weeks later, the bloom had wilted, as “rhodies” are prone to do. I was reminded of the transience of God's floral kingdom but the wisdom He exercises with humans in “who” and “what” He plants and “where” for longtime “blooming.”

The prophet Jeremiah (long after David's time) used similar analogies in speaking of the sovereignty of God in moving people around. At this point in Hebrew history, his nation's widespread sin and apathy would soon result in a judgment of being captured and carted off to Babylon, a vicious and pagan nation. In his prophecies, Jeremiah emphasized that even when his nation's “location” and “vocation” wasn't what they dreamed of, to dig in and make it work.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 compares a person who trusts in the Lord to a tree planted by water, and thriving in that environment: “Blessed is the man who who trusts in the LORD, and whose hope is in the LORD. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river."

The prophet also counseled his displaced people to “settle in” and make a new life, instead of pining for the way things used to be: “Build houses and dwell in them, plant gardens and eat their fruit....take wives and beget sons and daughters...and seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the Lord for it” (Jeremiah 29:5-7).

The person who complained “I hate this town” certainly was a candidate for such counsel. But their heart remained closed for years, nourishing bitterness.

I wish I could report a better end to this person's story, but...I'm praying. And really, the “end of the story” could still be rewritten to an outcome of hope and fulfillment. For that person. For any of us.

Keep blooming

Fall had kissed fading chill into public gardens I visited in my daughter’s town. As I wandered the park’s rose section, I thought about an old song with a sad melody, “The Last Rose of Summer.” I’d heard its schmaltzy tune played on a violin long ago, but never knew all the words until I found them on the internet. Oh, my! Talk about a downer song! We can credit Irish poet Thomas Moore for the 200-year-old lyrics:
‘Tis the last rose of summer,/Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions/Are faded and gone.
As the poem continues, the analogy is clear.  One by one we die until none of our friends is left. It concludes, “Oh! Who would inhabit/This bleak world alone.” Sigh. We can’t deny the inevitability of death (unless the Lord returns in our lifetimes!). But my Bible offers some great encouragement for those “last rose of summer” years.

*God will carry us in our old-age frustrations.

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.  I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you” (Isaiah 46:4). The verse contrasts idols (who couldn’t lift a thing) and the true God who made us and spiritually carries, sustains and rescues us. Even in life’s autumn and winter, He is there.  

 *Character never stops growing.

The apostle Paul (himself in those “last rose” years) outlined a proactive approach for seniors in his letter to friend and helper Titus, who pastored the church at Crete. Paul didn’t want the church to waste its resource of older believers. Even if slowed by health, the “seniors” had a valuable role of “blooming” spiritually.  Thus the instructions in Titus 2 to teach older men to “be temperate, worthy of respect, self-controlled, and sound in faith, love and in endurance.” Older women were to be taught “to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good.” They were also to be role models to younger wives and mothers. When I was in my twenties, my best friend was fifty years my senior. Her modeling of sturdy faith and patient mentoring positively marked my life.

*Dreary “organ recitals” don’t glorify God.
Our bodies do a great job of reminding us that we’re mortal. This morning, for example, I got close and personal with a heating pad on an arthritic hip. I'll spare you more J…. I try to resist being someone who seeks sympathy via broadcasting aches and pains (“organ recitals”). It’s popular to grouse that “after 50 it’s patch-patch-patch,” and top another’s complaints. A friend of mine has the right attitude. Though left nearly helpless and in constant pain from polio half a century ago, when asked how he is, he keeps his “organ recital” to “I’m not complaining, just explaining.” Every time I’m around him, I am reminded of Nehemiah 8:10: “The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

*Keep enrolled in God’s School of Faith. “Remain in me, and I will remain in you,” Jesus said.  “No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine.  Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me” (John 15:4). We’ll inevitably have ups and downs in our spiritual lives as God permits trials and challenges to strengthen our faith. I’m reminded of that every time I read my Bible and re-encounter passages that speak to me now in fresh ways. Unlike the “last rose” of Moore’s poem, which was left to “pine on the stem,” maturity grips the stem all the tighter. Connected to Jesus, we're to bloom for all we’re worth, as long as we can.

Wimpy end-of-season roses? Let’s change the image to that of Isaiah:

They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. (Isaiah 61:4)