If you want to grow a garden, you'd ideally pick a place with fertile soil and room for roots to grow deep. But flowers can also grow on a rocky precipice among the links of old iron chains. These did.
Sometimes the truth is held in tension.
Two things can be true at once, even if they seem like a contradiction.
I think about this often when I hear the same tired old binary thinking that comes out of the news and conversations around me. I've been pondering what it means to dwell in Eden. I'm drawn easily to the breathtaking beauty of God's creation--I marvel at the sacred trust of cultivating this garden globe. But I am constantly reminded by current events about the ugliness and devastation that also plagues it.
Still I linger in the beauty, leaning in closer to draw in its strength. I don't want to be the kind of person who glosses over the struggles of the people beside her, who looks away from suffering, who offers platitudes instead of a hand.
Dwelling in Eden reminds me where we came from, where we're heading, and that real good is indeed happening around us as so many of the humans God made in his image actually spend untold, Spirit-filled energy reflecting his light and love into the world through their labors, their love, their art, their words, their wisdom. They are everywhere, if we have eyes to see them. They are our neighbors, our friends, our siblings, our parents, our children, our co-workers. They are people who look like us, believe like us, act like us, and also people who don't.
Dwelling in Eden reminds me that if I am willing to jump into the task of caring for this world and the people God dearly loves, I will not be alone, and it will make a difference. It will.
Broken chains always speak to me of freedom. These resilient flowers with all their beauty on display remind me what happens when we dare to be generous with the freedom we have.
