High up in the Alps grow the tiny little flowers called Edelweiss. They bloom in rocky crevices where they may blossom and die without ever making imprint upon the eye of any living creature, except perhaps a few mountain goats.
How is it that our God would plant so many flowers in places where He alone will see their struggle up from the soil, the breaking of earth through which they emerge, twining around stones and clinging to brambles, only to bloom for such a short while and return to the earth?
What about us, in Cor Unum? We know that the right-hearted things we do in the dedicated places we fill on earth do show forth the glory of God. What about those hidden places of devotion that no one sees but God alone? What about those times of which we have spoken, when we trade intercession for the internet and meditation over television? No one may ever know. Even our children may think we’re just getting up early to get a jump on the laundry, which sometimes we do before we pick up our Bibles and go off to be alone with the Lord.
Whether we live very public or very private lives, each may choose to lift his countenance to God.
John Wesley used to spend hours alone with the Lord in the early morning. As his influence grew and he began to travel the thousands of miles that he would cover in his lifetime of ministry, he continued to remain two or three hours or more with God at the start of the day. When questioned about his time management, he could only say that it was only the hours he spent alone with God that enabled him to carry out his Father’s work after the sun rose.
When all the little blossoms of the hills and fields were opening their faces to the sun, John Wesley was back on his horse, riding off to yet another location where the Gospel of Jesus Christ had yet to be proclaimed in the power of the grace of God.
Our Lenten service may be just the same: hidden, unnoticed, unimportant to all but God, at least until its effects begin to be known. If nothing else, between our blossoming and the light of His Presence, there will be joy.
Bohringer Friendrich, by permission, Wikipedia