It is still the early days of springtime here in New England, and at this very moment, a magnolia tree, bedecked in its magnificent pink blossoms, blooms just outside my own window — just as Elisabeth described from their beloved home in Magnolia, Massachusetts.
We used to have a magnolia (also called a tulip) tree on our front lawn. The velvety buds would be there all winter and suddenly, one spring day, they would burst into bloom. There was not a leaf on the tree yet, only hundreds of lovely, tall, pink and white, tulip-shaped cups. I would drink in its beauty from the window, knowing that it would be very short-lived. Sure enough, in two or three days, the green lawn would be littered with pink scraps.
Why this waste? Why, when things seemed so promising?
All that is given is meant to be poured forth. The flower pours forth its sweetness, the tree its blossom and fruit, its powers of purification, its shade, its wood. In the words of Ugo Bassi, “Measure thy life by loss and not by gain; not by the wine drunk but by the wine poured forth.”
It is a merciful Father who strips us when we need to be stripped, as the tree needs to be stripped of its blossoms. He is not finished with us yet, whatever the loss we suffer, for as we loose our hold on visible things, the invisible become more precious—where our treasure is, there will our hearts be.
He may be asking us to sell a much-loved house, to part with material things we no longer need, to retire from a position in which we feel ourselves irreplaceable, to turn over to Him fears which hold us in bondage, forms of self-improvement or recreation or social life which hinder obedience.
Does all this seem hard? Being ordinary mortals, we would rather live in continual springtime, truth be told. Of course it is right to be glad for spring sunshine. But it was achieved through the long relinquishments of winter. All of it is from His hand.
**Excerpt originally appeared in the May/June 2003 Elisabeth Elliot Newsletter.