Picture of a Garden
We moved into our first home in October. Sometime in November I was reading again the account of Abraham and Sarah, or Abram and Sarai before their name changing encounter with the Living God. As I was reading through the part where Sarah is promised to have a son that same time the next year, the Holy Spirit seemed to be strongly speaking to my heart that I would have a baby next fall. Oh my lands, here we go again!
Well, I tried to ignore what I heard and just go on with getting settled. And after moving four times in five months with four little ones, I was ready to do just that.
Then the day came that I was hanging pictures in our bedroom. Not many, just a wedding picture, a wedding prayer, a small bulletin board, a large paperboard of favorite scriptures my Mom had written, and my Garden of Gethsemane painting that I purchased in Jordan.
There’s a story even in the purchase of that painting. Amidst the spiritual darkness of this self-proclaimed “open-minded” country, we walked into a little office, the details of which must remain undisclosed. There was definitely light in this place! It’s purpose to share the gospel with those seeking. A large cardboard box was in the small front room. It was empty. You see, it usually stayed empty. It held donated Bibles that were to go to anyone who requested. Many requested, and few donated. We were later taken back to another smaller room where Hussein painted scenes of Jesus. My roommate and I both decided to purchase one. As I looked through the different scenes to choose from, I prayed earnestly that I would receive the one God wanted me to have. I ended up choosing a portrait of Jesus giving thanks to the Father before feeding the 5,000, for I was trusting God without fear to provide for all my needs. However, when we received our paintings a couple weeks later, I had been given Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Okay.
During my summer in Jordan, we made a long weekend trip to Israel. Wonderful! I had visited this garden, the garden where Jesus prayed to the Father before being taken to the cross.
Up until this point, I had embraced sufferings and trials because of the good that I saw come out of them. They helped me become more like Christ, and this is what I was after. And when I study this subject in Scripture, it is clear that we will suffer if we follow Jesus.
Back in my bedroom, I pulled this painting out of the box, and decided that after ten years it deserved a frame. So the next trip to Wal-mart obtained a rugged wood frame, too small to fit the off-size of the foreign made portrait. But I would make it work.
Later, as I sat in my bathroom looking out at it, the Holy Spirit began to stir in my heart. Now I believe like my pastor, that 90% of hearing from God is from reading His Word the Bible. But this was one of those moments when it was that gentle, quiet voice inside. It was as if He was asking me if I was putting Jesus in the Garden away in my life as well. In other words, I felt He was asking if I was no longer willing to suffer. You see, the previous eight years had been almost perpetual crisis. And now, I was under the much hoped for assumption that moving into our first home meant that I was settling into a nice easy life. Ha!
And immediately, I just knew that the issue at hand was having that fifth baby. With all the trouble I have had bearing the first four, and I will probably share that later, I could not imagine having another one. Was I willing to suffer again in this way? Was I willing to walk down that road with the Lord in order to obtain by faith His revealed will for my life? Was I willing to go through more pain in order to allow God to place this new and precious soul into now and eternity? Was I willing to lay down my life?
Shellshocked and in desperate need of rest, I did not throw my hands up to volunteer.
But before the sun set on that day, Jesus in the Garden had come out of His frame, and now hangs bare on my wall. I look at it as I write this, and if it did not endanger my life and this baby (I’ll get to that in a minute), I would weep.
Trying to block all this out of my mind and tell myself that it was just my dramatic personality and wild imagination, I go on with life. Christmas break comes, and the conviction returns. Unable to find any strength within myself to obey, I turn to God’s Word, asking for something to hold on to if I agree to this seemingly unreasonable request.
He leads me to Genesis, to an encounter that Abraham has with God. I like other versions better, but the NIV was the one I reached for in this moment, being the one on my nightstand at the time. These words seem to fly off the page, “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield (or, sovereign), and your very great reward (or, shield; your reward will be very great).” Genesis 15:1b
Now I had been teaching the kids about the Sovereignty of God for the last 2-3 weeks. But I’m sure the lesson was really for me. And this verse was telling me that God was not only sovereign over all the universe, but He is sovereign over my life and body too. God is in control.
Okay.
And thus, I was soon pregnant, with a due date in the fall.
Now will I trust Him?
As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.”
Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” Luke 9:57+58
