Artificially Sculpted

Note:  I know some do not like to read posts related to religion.  So, fair warning.  That is exactly the topic of this post, and perhaps the next one.  BUT, if you want to hear a Christian express some of the same confusion and frustration I imagine non-Christians do, read on.

It is early Easter Eve.  The night sky is still outside our windows and I’ve already had my coffee.  I intended to start my meal for tomorrow, but I need to write first, I think.   My mind is just too full of questions and confusion. 

I always awake shortly before 5 AM.  Regardless of whether I get up then or delay until around 6:00, I do one thing.  I spend at least a few minutes in prayer for anyone or anything on the “top” of my prayer list.  Japan has remained on the 5 AM list since the tsunami hit, along with people who have suffered tragedy or need jobs, etc. 

This morning I was thinking about Jesus’ habit of rising early to pray.  And I thought of His looking down on all of us who might be praying at the same time.  In my mind He is looking down and seeing a watercolor painting created by different colors of skin and hair, physical size, and shape of eyes.  To Him the painting is like what we see when we are driving along the highway and see a field of wildflowers.  No talented landscape artist carefully chose the flowers to give just the right color combination and overall appearance.  Nor was the field perfectly sculpted and edged.  But the field’s beauty is derived from just that, the random juxtaposition of the different flowers and the resulting mixture of heights and textures and even patterns at different places in the field. 

That entire image of Jesus looking down and listening to all of us, outwardly so different from one another, and the contrast of a field of wildflowers versus a flower garden sculpted by man led me back to where I often end up.  Why do even we Christians want to separate ourselves from human beings different from ourselves?  Do we not want to see the richness of life when variety is appreciated?  Why are we working so hard to artificially sculpt life?

I wonder if Jesus is right now doing what He did in the garden?   Weeping.  Weeping at our lack of love and concern for, and even rejection of, some of His “wildflowers”?  And weeping because He knows it is not the life He intended for us?  He wants the best life for us.  In His own words, He wants one where we love others as we love ourselves.  Surely, He is weeping as He watches us approach Easter to celebrate rebirth, but without the deep desire to follow that, His second great command.  He MUST be.  Because I am.