I took myself on a ramble the other day.
The breeze was blowing, the birds singing,
and a road I had never traveled down before
beckoned.
I admired the trees, all decked out in spring green,
I noticed the blooms around me..
.lilacs, apple blossoms, tulips in abundance.
But then I saw a house that stopped me in my tracks.
Neglected,
somewhat dejected,
over-grown,
utterly perfect.
No neighbors were about and it was obviously abandoned,
so, (just between us)
I ventured onto the property and did some exploring.
Five acres, a dark wood, fruit trees gone wild and some bounding deer greeted me.
I peeked through a window to see the house filled with piles of garbage.
Cedar shakes fallen off the side of the house,
the back porch so rotten I wasn't about to step on it.
It captivated me.
I was enchanted.
And it set me to dreaming...
what would I do with this place were it mine?
Hire a crew to clean out and repair the house.
Limb up the dark woods so I could walk amongst the trees.
Tame the fruit trees, subdue the bamboo.
But first, very first,
repair the gate in front of the house.,
prune the ivy,
and of course, plant a rose.
My imagination was captured,
and I couldn't help thinking...
does God think of me like I think of that house?
Does he see my imperfections and think about how to help me?
I know he sees the garbage I hold inside,
the negligence that festers,
the wild rebellion that niggles.
And yet, he still sees me, through Jesus, as utterly perfect.
He is enchanted with me.