Lectio
“The soul reveals her capabilities according to the capabilities of the body, so that in childhood she brings forth simplicity, in youth strength, and in the fullness of age, when all the veins of the human being are full, she brings forth her greatest strength in wisdom. In the same way a tree in its first growth brings forth tender shoots, goes on then to bear fruit and finally ripens that fruit to the fullness of utility. But afterwards in old age when a human being’s bones and veins incline to weakness, then the soul reveals gentler strengths, as though tired of human knowledge. In the same way, at the onset of wintertime, the sap of the tree withdraws from the leaves and branches as the tree begins to incline towards old age.”
— Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias I, 4
Meditatio
It is easy to look back at our youth with judgement, to think on how we could have and should have done better with the time we had and how our lives might be different now, had we only had more wisdom and foresight then. Through this type of thinking, we risk falling prey to a type of morbid reflection wherein we believe that what we did defines who we are, and that our past determines our eternal fate. In this way, we allow our past sins, whether they be sins of commission or omission, to name us in a way that should only be reserved for God, thereby giving our sins the power to condemn us, even if we do not explicitly understand this.
We see this pattern begin in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve, acutely aware of their fall from grace, cover themselves with fig leaves in shame and hide from the God who has done nothing but love them. Not only have they done wrong in disobeying the Lord, but they then allow this wrong to define them and, believing themselves to be irredeemable, to separate them from God. Their sin was the eating of the forbidden fruit, but their condemnation was their self-imposed shame after having strayed from the Lord’s protection, because it is not our sin that keeps us from God, but the shame that makes us think that, because of our sin, we are unlovable and unforgivable.
But, regardless of how far we stray, God never ceases loving us and, as soon as we turn back to Him, He begins running toward us with open arms to welcome us back home. Because God knows something we don’t know. God knows that even our ability to turn away from Him is, in fact, a gift from Him because He wants nothing more than that we love Him, and He knows that love must be a choice, and so, in addition to His giving us His unconditional, unwavering love, He also gave us the freedom to choose not to love and not to be loved.
A life, like anything that grows, must first take root before it can reach, and reach before it can bear anything worth harvesting. If we believe that nothing is wasted in God’s economy, we will see that all of who we were was necessary for us to become who we are and who we someday will be. The simplicity of our childhood, the strength of youth, and even the rebellion, resistance, and running of adolescence and early adulthood, these are all necessary for us to, by grace, attain the wisdom of the fullness of age where we recognize that our wayward ways and the dubious sense of freedom that went along with them, did not lead to our fulfillment. And so, like the prodigal son, in our desolation and desperation for something real, something true, and something constant, we feel the call back home, back to God, but the person who returns is not the same person who left. For we are now older, more mature, and, with our worldly experience in tow, wiser and willing to make the journey of surrender to the Love that never left, even when we did.
And as we grow older in our faith, we see that these seasons, even when they felt like mistakes or misfortunes, were all leading us on the same path back to God, that He was, in fact, drawing us toward Him even when we thought we were walking away. That, as we approach the winter of our lives and the leaves on our branches begin to fall away, we realize that our roots never stopped reaching into the soil beneath what we can see, and that these roots in Christ provide us with a footing, and with water and nourishment that the world does not know or provide. And though someday our bodies will give way to the weather of time, in doing so, we will rejoin in fullness and glory with the Source of our life, and it all, every single moment, will lead us back to the soil of the Lord from which we came.
Oratio
Rooted In Eternity
plant me in your soil
good Lord
that my roots may grow
within You
You are my life
my living water
my nourishing force
without You
I am hollow
rotting where I stand
easily fallen
by the winds of the world
but with You
I am rooted in eternity
reaching from depth to depth
Contemplatio
Whatever has withered in you this year, let it fall away without shame. Beneath what you can see, your roots are still reaching toward Him, and He has never once let go of the soil that holds you. Remain here a moment longer, not seeking to control what comes next, simply allowing His presence to have its way with you.
Related Scripture
“The righteous flourish like the palm tree, and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the LORD; they flourish in the courts of our God. In old age they still produce fruit; they are always green and full of sap.”
— Psalm 92:12-14, NRSVCE
For Further Reading
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like Remaining To Be Fed: Brother Lawrence on Faith, Stability, and the Daily Bread of God’s Presence (Lectio Divina), which explores what it means to be fed by God’s presence in seasons when we are restless for something more.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
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