I’ve always loved the wild phlox that bloom early each spring in central Kansas. These flowers grow to be two to three feet tall and bloom profusely by early May. They are mostly seen in the ditches, along the roadsides.
I wanted to bring some of that beauty to our farm, so we searched, found a spot along the roadside thick with the flowers, dug a few up, and brought them home to transplant. One year, we planted some in our small woods; another year, on the edge of our garden. After two years of growing in each spot, neither spot had any of the wild phlox. Yet, I marveled this spring when I saw the beauty of the phlox in the mess of our burn pile among the dead branches and ugly weeds.
Isn’t that how God usually comes to us? In the messes of life. What a mess it was when Jesus, Immanuel, God is with us, came to us! Mary was an unmarried young teenager. Joseph was told to take her home to be his wife even though the baby was not his and his reputation would be tarnished. What a mess!
When nine months pregnant, Mary and Joseph had to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem for the census. (Be glad yours is sent to your home.) It is a distance of about eighty miles. In Mary’s condition, it would have taken about eight days. They traveled in the winter through the Judean desert. It’s often in the 30’s during the day in the desert and often raining. At night it would be freezing. What a mess!
When they arrive in Bethlehem, as we all know, the inn is full and Mary is ready to give birth. What a mess! Soon after the birth of Jesus, they are forced to flee to Egypt, a distance of about forty miles, because Jesus is to be killed with all the other male children under two years old. What a mess!
I’ve noticed God comes to me among my messes. When I do not know where to go for help, I cry out to God. When illnesses fill me with fear, I cry out to God. When relationships are teetering, I cry out to God. When others inflict great pain on my family and me, I cry out to God. When my vigor for life is depleted, I cry out to God. When poor choices, create pain, I cry out to God. When I’m not sure my needs will be met, I cry out to God. When the storms of live are crashing in, I cry out to God.
And God comes. Just as he came to the woman at the well, just as he came to Zacchaeus, just as he came to the woman caught in adultery, just as he came to the lepers, the demon-possessed, the blind and the lame, just as he came to the disciples in the storm on Galilee, God comes to us in our messes.
Following my Leader 