The Weight of Blooming

The day I spotted the tulips at the store, they were stick-straight. Long, bright green stems. White blossoms packed tight, with just a sweep of light pink.

I’d been anxiously waiting for tulips to arrive at Trader Joe’s. They’re a sign of spring that I live for after a winter of cold, drizzly weather in the Northwest.

The flowers sat in a clear vase on my dining room table for weeks until one day I noticed that they were nearly unrecognizable from where they were at the start. The once-straight stems were wavy and wobbly, a tangle of green from blossom to water. The petals had opened to reveal more light pink and a fuller, even more beautiful flower, their heads stretching in all directions.

I’d loved the tulips at the start, but this wild bouquet was something else entirely. There were lessons to be learned and joy to be found right there in the vase on my dining room table.

There is growth happening that you can’t see.

The transformation of the flowers wasn’t as noticeable in everyday life, but instead happened slowly, quietly, without fanfare. Its growth happened that way from the beginning.

You don’t water a seed and come back the next day to find a flower. You water in faith that if you do the work, something will eventually sprout. That sprout will eventually grow taller and bud. And that bud will eventually bloom.

1 Corinthians 3:6-9 NIV gives us insight into the process of the unseen:

I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building.

God is producing good fruit in you. It’s frustrating when it doesn’t appear right away, especially as we continue with the consistent, sometimes-monotonous daily work of obedience. But nothing with strong roots grows fast. Only weeds.

Where you water in faithfulness, God is growing something beautiful and resilient.

It’s okay to grow wilder.

The uniform tulips stood tall and proud when I saw them in the store. But eventually they took on a loose and untamed and purely stunning appearance.

Growing up, my faith experience was more linear and precise. I was that goody-two-shoes church kid–the one with all the right answers, telling everyone else to do the right thing. I believed the Bible was a set of rules to be followed.

In this season, my perspective of God and the Bible has become a little…wilder. I’ve found space to ask questions, view the Bible in light of God’s heart and character (not merely rules and restrictions), and wrestle with God when living out faith proves challenging.

A rigid approach to scripture doesn’t leave much room for grace. Scriptures like Ephesians 2:6-8 NIV remind us that it’s not about earning salvation or proving our worth:

And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.

Slowly, as we grow in faith and come to know him better, he softens us and allows us to become a little bit wild, our relationship with him beautiful in a whole new way.

We hold the weight of blooming.

With the bloom, the flowers became heavier, tilting this way and twisting that way. Many of them started to sink downward toward the table.

It can be a complex thing to see someone flourish, even through the smokescreen of social media. The Enemy can be quick to rush in and tell us all the ways we are inadequate, purely because of someone else’s good news. In those moments, we bring our questions and fears to the God who holds us, identifies us, and reminds us of every bit of our worth to him.

Also, when sensing that twinge of envy, it’s important to remember that we hold both the joy and the heaviness of becoming. There is usually more to the story than we know; more storms or drought or bugs or any number of things that come to hinder our growth. There is the newness of uncharted territories and pressure to soar.

Galatians 5:24-26 NIV tells us,

Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.

These tulips remind me that growth can come with heaviness. God stretches and softens us to strengthen our resilience. He’s producing more wild beauty in us as we continue to become the wholehearted people he made us to be.