For years, I've been getting the Parable of the Sower wrong. I was under the impression that weeds choke the light of God. But through fish-head soup, only 3 showers in 10 days, invasions of daddy longlegs, and the support of 57 new family members, God taught me to let the weeds grow…
The first few days of camp were all about our own personal growth. Before teams. Before bonding. It was all about me and God. So when the speaker called us to look upon the face of Jesus, I thought I was ready. But God does not belong in a box.
Whenever I picture God, I always picture a field. The two of us, just standing on a hill surrounded by wildflowers. (I know it's girly, just deal with it.) So when I "looked upon the face of God" that's what I saw. Like I always do. Nothing unusual there.
But later that night, the speaker discussed grieving our losses. Not necessarily the loss of a loved one; maybe loss of innocence; loss of God; loss of trust. At this point, I had no idea what I was "suppose" to be grieving. So as I saw people dropping to their knees in worship or raising their hands in joy, I felt incompetent. "What do they have that I don't? Why isn't God speaking to me?"
Then God showed me a picture of my grandpa and God embracing in that same field I always associate with heaven. I was terrified! I was convinced something had happened to my grandpa and that it was him I should be grieving. (But my grandpa's fine and little did I understand that "vision" God had given me.)
Monday, we were in worship asking God to fill us with the Spirit. All of the sudden, some guy (still have no idea who is was) put his hand on me and said "I'm picturing a little girl in a pink dress dancing with Jesus in a field." Now, at this point I hadn't mention these "visions" of fields to anyone. But I chalked it up to a coincidence. (Are you starting to see a pattern with this whole field thing?)
Right after that, another "unnamed" guy places his hand on me with a "vision" from God (still skeptical about all these prophecies at this point). He says, "I'm picturing the word 'reclamation.' (My English was failing me and I completely had no idea what this word meant for a few seconds!) I'm picturing this field (Alright, not a coincidence anymore!) filled with wildflowers and trees and weeds. The weeds are beautiful to God. But, someone came in and cut all the flowers and planted straight, perfect rows. Every seed is the same and no weeds are allowed. It's just conformity. But, God wants the field back. (Oh! Re-claim. Got it.) He wants the flowers and weeds to grow again. He's placing a sign in the field, 'This belongs to Jesus.' You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to be what everyone else wants you do be. You're just God's daughter."
At this point I was on my knees sobbing. This guy had never met me before. He didn't know my struggle with perfection. But God did. That was a message from God. He (God) knew those were the words I needed to hear that week. I need to be free from perfection and from trying to impress people with my "spiritualness." My journey looks different from everyone else's and I need to embrace that.
So in light of this new revelation from God, I believe He has given me a new name. Wildflower. Because what some people see as weeds, others see as beautiful flowers.
Matthew 13:24-29
4 Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. 25 But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. 26 When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.
27 “The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’
28 “‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.
“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’
29 “‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them.'"
God doesn't expect us to be perfect. He sees our "weeds" as wildflowers. They don't choke, they bring beauty to our fields. Because without pain and grief and mistakes, we'll never learn to rely on our God.
