Of all the word pictures Jesus painted, I can’t think of another that engenders the peace of spirit that comes from feeling secure in God’s loving care more than this: “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. If God so clothes the grass of the field, will He not much more clothe you?”[Matthew 6:28–29] Can you see those lilies now? Tall and straight, perfectly formed and laced with dew, each a polite distance from the next, they sway as one to the sweet strains of songbirds and a gentle breeze as it sweeps through an open meadow awash with morning sun. At least that’s how I would have had them grow, if God had asked me.
A very different scene hangs above my desk—a hopeless tangle of wildflowers and weeds, grasses, thistles, and who knows what, some flourishing, some beginning to fade, and some gone to seed. The photo was the reward of a long, hot trek through the Texas countryside in search of a scene that matched a mental picture that had come to me months earlier while praying about my part in a new project that involved quite a few people, each of whom added his or her particular needs, opinions, aspirations, quirks, and hang-ups to the mix.
The amazing thing about that scene when I glimpsed it in prayer was how it instantly set my heart and mind to rest. I had the distinct feeling that God not only had it all under control, but that He delighted in the complexity and diversity, in each and every element and its place in the hodgepodge. The Creator in love with His creation. Things weren’t as I would have had them, but as He would have them. That realization made all the difference. I titled my photo Divine Chaos, and I study and draw from it whenever I work myself into turmoil over some new problem. “Consider the flowers of the field, how they grow.”