Be a Pansy

10.10.12

According to www.almanac.com “Pansies are hardy annuals…(which) offer colorful flowers for any season.” Pansies actually grow in all four seasons. I learned this as we prepared the outside plants for the oncoming winter. I looked at the little plant as I patted the wet soil around its fragile roots. It seemed like it was barely holding on to life. After gently repotting a few of the pansy sprouts, I watched them fall, shriveled up at our touch. Mrs. Copu, however, is confident the small plants will regain their strength and bloom within a few months.

The tiny green plant, which can hardly survive a move one foot away, is going to bloom in the middle of the winter. I don’t know where the phrase “don’t be a pansy” came from, but I would like to argue that we should all be pansies. They may seem fragile and tender, needing plenty of sunlight and rain, but when everything else has shriveled up in the cold, those little, colorful flowers will break through and cheer the world. What if, like this delicate plant, I was tender to my Father’s touch, receiving the good and bad, the happy and hard, from His loving hands? What if I let Him repot me, away from those I cling to for strength? Would I bloom when it’s cold and wet and all else has died?

When Jesus was holding the child in Matthew 18, He told the disciples not only to enter the Kingdom as little children, but that they must stay children to be the greatest in the Kingdom. In Matthew 20:26, 28, He said, “Whoever desires to become great among you, let him be your servant…. just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many." I have found that in my striving to do better and understand more, I often forget what faith and trust actually look like. When a test comes around, I think, “Oh yes, I remember how to pass this one. I trust.” Proudly, I pull out my trust formula and plug it in like an outlet-powered air-deodorizer.

 After a few days, when all my prayers have turned to whining and I can no longer remember the words to the songs I sang so happily a week ago, I realize I have a problem. Defeated and discouraged, I ask God why He has taken away my joy. After all, haven’t I so patiently accepted the trials and “trusted” in His loving ways? My gentle Father responds, “Will you follow me further into the dark?”

At this point, I become a little bit disgruntled. “Lord, I am not asking for a change of circumstances (especially if that’s all you have to offer). I simply want a little joy here? How can I go farther into the dark when I am already on empty?”

I think this is when my Father sighs a smile and patiently, gently shines a light on the problem. As the silence settles in on my heart, I see my wants and expectations come into view. I hear my secret desires bounce around my head. The places where I have drawn a line and the bargains I have attempted to make with my Savior are illuminated by His gaze. “This too must die,” He says.

It is a daily cross, is it not? It is in dying that I learn to live and trust. If I bring my own understanding and logic to the map table of His will, I will skew His Words like a defected compass. And so, when my feelings are laid low and my desires are on the altar, I must take up the song of surrender and offer my broken heart.

“All the way my Savior leads me –what have I to ask beside?

Can I doubt His tender mercy, who through life has been my guide?

Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort, here by faith in Him to dwell!

For I know, whate’er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well.”

~ Fanny J. Crosby