A man loses a great sum of money in one day. His stocks plummet. He loses millions.
A woman finds out about the rich man’s downfall. She stares at him across the crowded room. How will he react? She needs to know. When he leaves, she follows him at a distance. What will he do next?
He stops at a local bar, orders a drink, hardly touches it. He walks on, stops at a café, orders a mineral water. He barely takes a sip. Instead, he grabs a pen and begins writing upon the receipt. What is he writing?
He stares one more time at something no one else can see, and then departs, leaving the paper behind. Once he’s out of sight, the woman rushes over to his table, picks up the paper, and sees . . . a drawing of a flower.
When Life Is Unkind, Look Down
I’ve not forgotten reading about this scene. I can almost see him sitting there, a storm raging in his heart, yet he delicately, tenderly sketches a flower. He reaches out, stretching to find beauty beyond his setbacks. To have much and to lose much and to blossom flowers in reply — I am too seldom like that.
But Jesus would have us be. He, too, tells us to look down when life is unkind. He draws near, beckoning us to look below our feet.
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? (Matthew 6:28–30)
Are you anxious about your life? Do the walls close in? Jesus would have you draw lilies. If he dresses and sustains little flowers — whose lifespan is but a day — will he not care for you? Or which parent among you would provide for his hostas and starve his children? The faith Jesus calls forth, the faith he is worthy of, is the quiet trust that bends down to pick a flower amid the hurricane, seeing there a colorful reminder that he has not forgotten us.
Spectators Above and Below
But what further captivates me is the woman’s interest. Have you ever felt the need to follow someone at a distance, someone who just went through a severe trial, to learn what happens next? Quiet is the room where a man or woman, lately returned from rough seas, finally speaks.
And this is not only a human interest. The unseen realm takes special notice of the afflicted among men. Heaven crowded to watch the contest between God and Satan in the hardship of Job. Satan, so smug, guessed well enough what would be Job’s reaction to tragedy: “Stretch out your hand and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face” (Job 1:11). Curses. Fury. Scorn.
Satan expected to find ten gravestones scrawled on the paper in Job’s hands, one for each of his dead children. Instead, he found a paper stained with tears, ink barely legible, yet reading even so, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21). Here was Job’s flower.
What Will We Draw?
Are you currently experiencing pain, heartache, loss? Without pressuring you to perform or hurry through your trials, I ask, What testimony will the world of angels and men see? Do they find something beautiful among the wreckage? Can we sing,
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And has shed his own blood for my soul.
When what we have dreaded comes upon us, when we are made to crawl through the valley of the shadow of death — what testimony will we leave behind? When we have gone out of sight, and onlookers dart to our tables, what will they discover on the page?
Desiring God