Glossy leaves cover the Buganvellia bush most of the year, but this April, it burst into color. Laden with blossoms, its fuchsia blooms brighten the garden with their singular hue. Most often, as it graces the corner of a tucked-away garden in the big city, it lies forgotten, unnoticed, and isolated. But regardless of passers by, inconsequential to any circumstance, it perennially blooms, adding loveliness to its out-of-the-way corner in this garden plot.
Rarely do any stop to notice it. Even less commonly do those appreciate it. But, regardless of its clear lack of popularity, this bush thrives, almost smiling in its habitat. Days frequently dawn dark and dismal. Storm clouds threaten. Ocean winds traverse, sometimes ferociously, across this rather barren spot. A weather beaten fence, its wood greening from lichens and moss, stares back at the floral-covered bush. Nevertheless, the shrub happily cascades flowers, dozens upon dozens of them, each day bringing forth new blooms.
How faithfully God's servants can likewise offer Him their worship as they continually give themselves to Him. Numbers of individuals the world over labor in places where few see or appreciate them. Some believers are persecuted, experiencing daily torture at the hands of their enemies. Others suffer forms of verbal abuse. And, tucked away in Christian homes the world over, numerous mothers of children labor, unnoticed by many about them.
I think of my own mother, now in her sixties, who once lived in the throes of rearing ten children. Many of her duties cried "mundane" to thousands of her counterparts in the culture. And yet, amidst the commonplace of daily life, she continues to exude warmth and friendliness to the many individuals who partake of her hospitality--including those in her own family.
Once, upon returning home from elementary school, I recall a transformation in our kitchen as I noted tiny strips of noodles dangling from every imaginable hanging spot around the kitchen table. The cast iron black chairs and even the metal fixture of the kitchen light offered niches of all varieties for the drying pasta--one of several culinary experiments my mother joyfully undertook in an attempt to provide nourishing, cost-effective meals for her family.
|Some delicious treats from my mother's kitchen|
Savory soups from farm-raised chickens and a variety of garden vegetables warm weary travelers visiting from the world-over. Hungarians around our Thanksgiving table offered praise with us one year, and my mom was sure to season her chicken soup with the paprika flavoring she purchased in that country. Zsolnay porcelain dishes of the finest blue, rimmed in a delicate gold, and shipped as a gift from my father, added their own dimension of loveliness--as laughter, Christian fellowship, and home-baked deliciousness contributed to a special holiday.
In high school, I assisted in the kitchen as we entertained a Singaporean woman. Egg rolls, rice, and sweet and sour chicken graced our palates that evening. Such hospitality breathed beauty into our home.
Sometimes, we found ourselves frantically preparing to ready our rooms for guests' arrival. I took charge of refreshing the bathroom or vacuuming the living room, dusting the bookshelves, and attempting to enliven the decorations with fresh flowers. But everyone worked together, and the end result provided memories to be treasured.
How many other children, reared in homes where parents embrace hospitality and cultivate a joy in serving others, likewise reap the benefit of individuals who, like the Buganvellia in my friend's flower garden, literally "bloom where they are planted," thriving in an element where many may not appreciate, few may notice, and even fewer may express approval. And yet, such is the reality of the Christian experience. Faithfulness, obedience, and service--day in and day out, 24/7, continually living out the beauty of the truths of God's Word.
Hundreds of faithful stewards in Christ's churches the world over serve Him happily where few may appreciate. Perhaps their duties include cleaning the church building or caring for small children in the nursery. Their daily service might be teaching others' children in a Christian school classroom or pouring out their hearts in prayer for the members of Christ's body. Seemingly unnoticed and unseen by the eyes of many, they continue to offer the sacrifice of praise to their Redeemer as their lives offer the joy of faithful service.
And from the throne room of Heaven, the King of the Universe looks down and beholds. He hears every word, sees every act, and notices the cheerful worship of His saints. Their lives bloom before Him, beautifying the corner of earth where He has set them.
May they ever bloom with grace.