God's Garden

Someone recently offered me a soapbox upon which I could stand and shout my message for all to hear. I stood there, awkwardly holding my brass bell, staring at the crowds of people gathered to listen. A thousand thoughts flew through my head. I had only one chance to share with everyone one thing, one message, one thought that burned deep in my soul.

My first thought was comical, a reminder of the existence and purpose for turn signals in vehicles. Use them. But as much as I love to make people laugh, I couldn't throw away this only chance for a joke.

I looked at the faces before me full of so many varied life experiences and diverse backgrounds. Despite how different they all were there was one common thread. In each and every set of eyes turned my way I saw pain. Some had been chased from their homes and others lived in squalor. Some were told to conform and many more were shamed by those who should love them. They all had vices and secrets. They all had dreams unfulfilled and fears buried deep. They were all different yet they were all the same. They were my brothers and sisters, my siblings scattered across the earth.

I looked down at my soapbox, much like the ones my ancestors once stood on in town centers and city parks throughout Europe and America. There they shouted a message so important to them, they had left their families for months. They risked imprisonment and death because their message had to be shared. I knew then my message would be the same.

My heart pounded in my ears as I raised the bell over my head and shook it back and forth. The clang broke through the still morning air, silencing the whispers and turning every eye toward me. Before I could change my mind I lifted my head high and shouted for all to hear:

God loves you.

Not as a collective people or as an abstract concept, but He loves you as an individual child, Sharon and Matthew. And you, Dharr and Paul. He sees your struggles, River, and cries over your pain, Michelle. He knows each of you, by name and by heart. And even when you feel alone, Celia, He is there. He carries you, Joe, when your burdens are too heavy. He sends others with comfort in your time of grief, Cathy. He sees your pain, Ruth, and He weeps for you, Mariann. Because you, Andrew and Euan, are His child. He loves you as you are, Susan and Ashley, and sees the beauty and strength you refuse to see in yourself, Gina, Sandy, Ruby, because you are worthy of His love.

You may not always recognize Him, Mike, but He sends His love in the words of a song that speaks to your soul. His whisper is carried on the wind and the fluttering of butterfly wings. His love waits for you, Rachel, in artwork and architecture that lifts your soul. When you look for it, you'll see Him in the smile of a stranger, Imola. He is there because He loves you, Ahmet and Judey.

You may doubt He is there, I certainly have at times. But when I stopped looking for all the reasons to doubt God and started looking for the evidence of His love, I found it everywhere. The more I felt His love for me, the more I saw the good in those around me. I saw their value and worth on deeper level.

I realized believing in God is not naïve. It is hopeful. It is healing. God is found in many ways and many places but wherever He is found, God is Love. In your moments of grief, He'll whisper to you through the words of a friend or a poet. He'll lift you with a forgotten song or a whispered memory.

And He only wants one thing from us in return.

He asks you and me to love one another. Stop looking at all that makes us different and start seeing what makes us all the same. Stop judging the situation of your brother when you've never lived his life. Stop neglecting your sister when you've been given things of which she could only dream.

Just love them.

Crouch down next to the beggars and wipe the dirt from their faces. Wrap your arm around the pregnant teen and let her cry on your shoulder. When you feel alone, reach out to the widow and divorcee. Open the door for the boy on crutches and help the young mother carry her milk to the car. Stand up for outcast and catch the stones thrown at the downtrodden.

Just love them, don't judge them. When your understanding falls short, let your love make up the difference.

Like a garden full of varied textures and a rainbow of colors, our differences are what makes us beautiful. His children are all unique and His love isn't one size fits all. His love is personal and individual. When they worship Him differently than you, realize He speaks to each of us in the language we each hear Him best. You may see Him in Cathedrals or Synagogues. They may see Him in mountains and forests. You may find His words in the Bible or the Vedas. They may find His words in lyrics and novels. Let them love Him their way and know that He loves them, He sees them, just as He sees you.

Turn to your neighbor and seek out His lost sheep. Be His hands and the one that lifts another in their moment of pain. Share what you've been blessed with, whether it's money, time, talents, or faith. And don't forget to share your humor, too. Above all else, be generous with your love. There is never a time when Love isn't the answer. It doesn’t fix all that is broken or erase scars etched deep. But it can make burdens more bearable. God is love and love is the path to healing, understanding, and peace.

Emotion overwhelmed me and my voice faltered. There was more to say, there always is. But I stared awkwardly at the crowd, aware I had just bared my soul.

Somewhere toward the back someone lifted a boombox and began playing "All You Need is Love" by the Beatles. It seemed like a fitting finale to my message so I stepped down. A chorus of voices joined in as arms wrapped around neighbors once no more than a stranger. They swayed together in unison and none saw another as an outsider. We all belonged together at that moment. We were all broken, damaged, struggling, but none of us was alone. We were one in God, we were one in love.