(by Lorie Codispoti)
We may be in the middle of winter, but the Spirit of the living God is more than willing to transport our hearts, no matter the season. Day or night, He invites us to come to the place where His presence dwells.
“I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear falling on my ear,
The Son of God discloses.”
When Mary Magdalene came to the garden tomb that day, she was alone and broken. A veil of downcast sorrow enveloped her, and hopelessness settled heavy on her heart.
Like Mary, we may come to the garden alone and filled with anxiety. But we do not walk through the garden alone.
“And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own…”
After the disciples had come and gone, Mary stood outside the empty tomb, weeping. What had brought her to the tomb had now escalated into full blown hopelessness. She didn't know that something exciting was about to happen.
Neither the appearance nor the voices of the two angels that appeared in the tomb could sooth Mary’s heavy heart. But then she heard another voice. At first, she thought He was the gardener. But when she heard her risen Savior call her name it changed everything. She lifted her head and the veil fell off.
“He speaks and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that he gave to me,
Within my heart is ringing.”
She entered the garden carrying an unbearable weight, but she left with a melody that carried her through the trials that awaited outside the gate.
“And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other, has ever, known!”
As we meander through our Father's garden, and drink in the grandeur of His presence, our senses pick up on things that a bleak midwinter camouflages. We are awakened to the sight and sound of unveiled Beauty. Anxiety melts away and carries our burdens with it. Conversing with our Father becomes an uninterrupted flow of clear refreshment, as if it were an endless stream, uninhibited as it cascades softly over the jagged rocks in our heart. The more time we spend, the smoother the rocks become.
Your circumstances may not change when you leave the garden of His presence, but when you hear Him speak your name something deeply intimate and transformative happens. As with Mary, His voice will flood your soul with a waterfall of Hope. This Hope embodies us and follows us outside the gate, where we have the opportunity to share what we’ve experienced and guide others to the garden of His Presence.
(Note: This piece is the result of pondering John 20, and reading the story of how it inspired C. Austin Miles to write the hymn titled In The Garden.)
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