Fruitfulness

Blessed Interruptions

~ Susan Brown ~ 4 Comments

She didn’t have the look of a seasoned hitchhiker. Aged in her thirties and wearing baggy shorts, a t-shirt and thongs, she turned toward us momentarily, revealing a face lined with worry as she lifted her thumb.

Mark glanced at me, his eyebrows raised, as we drove past. ‘Should we pick her up?’

‘Yep.’ I nodded, checking my watch. ‘We’ve got time.’ My husband knew I was wary of hitchhikers. But something in this woman stirred my compassion. If we left her behind, I was sure I’d regret it.

Stopping for this stranger wasn’t part of our plan for that evening. It was our 27th wedding anniversary and we’d been following our usual tradition of celebrating all day. We’d walked the Zigzag Track at Cataract Gorge with our teenage daughter, picnicked on a blanket in the shade of a spreading tree, then taken a cooling dip in the river that flowed behind our house. All we wanted to end the day well was a quiet dinner for two at a special restaurant.

That final part of our plan had already faced some challenges. Vague as we were from moving interstate only two weeks earlier, we realised that morning that we’d forgotten to book a table. Being a Friday in the peak of summer, free tables were going to be hard to find. So, as we walked, lunched and even swam, our conversation kept turning to the dinner problem. Again and again, we scrolled through websites and made phone calls, only to keep coming up with the same answer—no room.

The afternoon wore on, the scorching heat began to wane and we still hadn’t found a solution. After our swim, we showered and dressed ready to go out, then sat side by side on the couch—one armed with a phone, the other with a laptop. Dining out was a treat reserved for days like this and we weren’t ready to drop the idea. Not yet. There had to be a place for us somewhere, surely.

LORD, You know where it is. Please show us, we prayed for the umpteenth time.

We broadened our search, researching cafes and vineyards up the river—they had closed at 3pm. We looked at more restaurants in and around Launceston—all were fully booked until late. My thoughts drifted, picturing where I might set up a special table for us at home—we’d done that plenty of times before. But on this day, it just felt wrong.

Finally, at quarter past six, we discovered a restaurant in a new hotel on the edge of town. Mark phoned. They had room for us! We booked a table for 30 minutes later, kissed our daughter goodbye and set off on the 20-minute drive.  

Now, here we were, performing two U-turns so we could pull up behind the lady on the highway. As our car slowed, she turned and looked at us, her eyes narrowed. I climbed out of the car and offered my best smile and friendliest voice. ‘Hi! Would you like a ride?’

She hesitated, her gaze moving between us, then nodded and walked the few metres to climb into the back seat. ‘Thank you.’

I lowered myself into my seat and turned to face her, my smile still fixed in place. ‘I’m Sue. This is Mark.’

‘Hi.’ She spoke quietly.

Mark glanced in the rearview mirror. ‘We’re heading through town. Where would you like us to drop you?’

She named the area and Mark pulled onto the highway.

‘Thanks for picking me up.’ Her words sounded strained.    

‘That’s okay.’ I kept my voice bright. ‘It’s pretty hot out there.’

‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Had you been walking for long?’ Mark asked.

‘I went to visit a friend.’ She took a breath. ‘I was there for a couple of hours and everything was fine. Then he got angry and started yelling at me. I don’t even know why.’ She was silent for a moment before more words spilled out. She told us her friend had started acting strangely—like someone she didn’t even know. When she tried to calm him down, he wouldn’t listen. Then he became more aggressive. ‘I wanted to help him but, in the end, I just opened the front door and ran. I had to get out of there. It wasn’t safe anymore.’ 

‘It’s good you left when you did,’ I said. ‘That must have been really scary for you.’

‘It was.’ I heard the tremor in her voice. ‘I was afraid he might follow me, but he hasn’t.’ She lowered her tone. ‘I keep wondering what he’s doing now.’

Mark eyed her in the rearview mirror. ‘Are you worried he might hurt himself?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘So . . .’ I spoke softly, ‘do we need to take you to the police, then?’

She hesitated. ‘Mmm. Yes, I think so.’

While we drove to the police station, she rehashed the story as if she was still coming to terms with it. When we pulled up across the street from the station, I sneaked a quick look at my watch. Our restaurant was only two blocks away. Maybe we could still make it to dinner on time. Maybe. But if we ended up getting there late, that was okay. This woman’s safety was more important.

A couple of minutes passed and the woman remained in her seat, still talking through what happened. I turned to see confusion and pain flickering in her gaze. She paused and looked me in the eye. ‘I don’t understand why he would do that . . . I’m his friend.’

‘I know.’ My heart went out to her. She was so shaken. What could I do to help? She needed peace. The best thing I could do was pray. But would she let me?

At that exact moment, I noticed the necklace she was wearing—a fine, gold chain bearing a beautiful, delicate cross. My heart lifted. Of course I should offer! ‘Would it be okay if I pray for you?’

A look of surprise flashed across her face. ‘What?’

I gave a lopsided smile. ‘Can I pray with you before you go?’ 

‘Oh. Okay.’

She asked about our church and explained wistfully that she used to be involved with a small, local church group but had lost touch.

‘ Let me pray for you.’ I reached towards her. ‘Can I hold your hand?’

With one swift nod, she grabbed my hand with both of hers and gripped it firmly. 

I tightened my grasp in response.  ‘What’s your name?’

‘Meryl.’ (name changed for privacy)

I closed my eyes, ready to pray. Instantly, all our struggles about where to eat shifted into perspective, like the fragments of a kaleidoscope coming together to form a beautiful picture. Suddenly I understood. I held my breath, in awe of God’s kindness. It wasn’t a coincidence that we were driving down the highway when Meryl needed help. If the evening had gone according to our plan, we would have passed through earlier or even headed in the opposite direction. But God had set our course according to His timing and His plan. Amazing!

I squeezed Meryl’s hands and looked directly at her, speaking with conviction. ‘God loves you, Meryl, and He watches over you wherever you go. He loves you so much, He even arranged for us to be coming through tonight at just the right time to pick you up. And He’ll keep taking care of you as you look to Him. He’ll never let you go.’     

I prayed for her then—with Mark adding his amens from the driver’s seat—that God would fill her with peace, help her feel His presence and give her the courage she needed to tell the police what happened that afternoon. We prayed for her friend too, that God would surround him with His angels, help him get the support he needed and bring his mind back to a more stable, peaceful place. When I finished, we all opened our eyes.

‘Well, I better go now.’ Meryl unfastened her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

‘Would you like me to come with you?’ By this point, I was happy to join her at the police station if it would help.

She shook her head. ‘No, that’s okay. I can do it.’ She directed her words at both of us before climbing out. ‘Thank you for helping me.’

‘It was our pleasure.’

‘No worries. Bless you, Meryl.’

We watched her head across the road, still cautious but perhaps a little steadier on her feet.

Our prayers continued as we drove the short distance to the restaurant. We arrived only ten minutes late. Our table was waiting, the venue was peaceful and our meal was delicious. But those details paled in comparison to our wonder at the lavish love of God—and the joy it was to play our small part in His work in Meryl’s life.   

Most of the time, we view our days according to our plans, our desires, what we think is best. But—much as we might like to think otherwise—the world doesn’t revolve around us. It revolves around God. And sometimes He wants to interrupt our plans for the sake of someone else, so they can be blessed.

I wonder how many opportunities we miss because we’re so focused on satisfying our own cravings or getting through our list of tasks. God wants to lead us by His Holy Spirit, to help us see the opportunities He gives and take our place in His purposes. If we choose to resist His interruptions and reject the opportunities He gives, I have a feeling we’ll miss out on some of life’s most awe-inspiring moments.

‘If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.’ John 15:5b

The Thriving Life

~ Susan Brown ~ Leave a comment

It was lorikeets that woke me that warm summer morning, their rasping chatter carrying from the tree outside my window. Eyes closed, I rolled onto my back and breathed deep. A new day was dawning. My mind sifted upwards through its sleepy fog, trying to work out where I was, what day it was. Memories began to take shape—our family perched on a grassy bank the previous night surrounded by hundreds of people; bright sparks streaking upwards in the night sky before they erupted into colourful waterfalls. My eyes snapped open. Today wasn’t just any day. It was January 1st—the first day of a new year. And oh, how ready we were for a new beginning! Our hearts had soared with those fireworks, relishing the sense of freedom and normality after six months of stifling restriction. I was glad to leave 2021 behind, eager to start fresh. Sitting up, I propped myself against a bank of pillows, grabbed my pen and journal and began to write.

‘Saturday January 1, 2022

Lord, You’ve brought me through. Thank You!’

I felt my whole body relax as relief flowed through me like a gentle stream, carrying away all the tension and weariness of the previous year. My thoughts poured out through my pen, scribing reflections on God’s strong and tender care. Through all the days, weeks and months when my world looked so terribly foreign—all the upheaval and confusion and uncertainty—He had been my Rock. He was the steady one Who had held me close and led me gently through the rubble of my disrupted—and in some ways dismantled—world. Without Him, I too would have been a crumbling mess. There was only one way to express my thanks.

‘God, I offer myself to You afresh. Please keep showing me Your way and enable me to walk in it. It’s only by Your grace that I can do anything of value.’

Line after line filled with scrawl as I handed over every concern and looked to God for His way through this new year, whatever it would bring. As I slowed, He brought some familiar words from a psalm to mind, which I hunted out then copied into my journal.

‘The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels

they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon;

planted in the house of the LORD,

they will flourish in the courts of our God.’

They will still bear fruit in old age,

they will stay fresh and green,

proclaiming, “The LORD is upright;

He is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in Him.”’

Psalm 92:12-15

I drank in those words like a thirsty desert-wanderer downing cool water. My God was always a God of hope. He was reminding me I could flourish in this new year if, like a plant, I sank my roots deep into Him—my life source. I could stay fresh and green, no matter the season. Hungry to know more, I started researching the meaning of some of the words. To flourish meant to bud, shoot and blossom profusely. Yes, profusely. That means a lot. I longed to be like that—to live a life so full of God’s goodness that the people around me were blessed by the overflow. Yes, I was already blessed and rich in Him, but I knew there was more—and always would be till the day I stood before Him, face to face. Then I would really flourish.  

My research taught me that in bible times palm trees, with their long, straight trunks and plentiful fruit, were considered the most beautiful of all trees. And cedars were prized for their exquisite, strong timber and great endurance, often living 600 years or more. Through my faith in Jesus, I was now classed as righteous so this psalm was a promise I could lay claim to. I could be like those trees—precious to God and a blessing to others.

My eyes moved to the word, ‘courts’ and lingered there. What do you think of when you hear mention of the court of God? I’d always imagined a vast room inside a palace, complete with soaring vaulted ceilings, an intricately patterned tile floor and, at one end, an ornate elevated throne. When I looked up the meaning, I couldn’t help chuckling. ‘Court’ was simply another word for ‘courtyard’—a walled outdoor enclosure with bright blue sky as its only ceiling. Of course. Those towering trees could only grow well if they were outdoors. But what did that mean for me? How could I flourish in God’s courts?

I started thinking about the walls that bounded the courtyard. Those walls offered a barrier against the outside world, protection for everything inside them. Likewise, God places boundaries in my life to protect me from harm.

Walls provide a clear marker of limits. Just as we can’t stand astride a wall, so we can’t be half in and half out of God’s plan. We have to be all-in or we’re all-out, fully His or not at all.  Sometimes God’s boundaries feel restrictive or don’t seem to make sense, but it’s inside His loving limits that we flourish. If we try to break out, we put ourselves in unnecessary danger.

Walls protect. They set limits. And sometimes they show us where we need to go, almost like they’re the sides of a corridor—hemming us in, as David described. There are times God seems to strongly direct our steps, nudging us into territory far beyond our confidence or experience. Even that new year’s morning as I spent time waiting on Him, He said,

Lay down any agendas or preconceived ideas you have about what this year will look like. It will be quite different to what you expect.

Change seems to have been the theme of our lives for the past four years—and, if anything, the stretch is only increasing. Many times, I’ve taken my eyes off God and instantly been overwhelmed—reduced to a blubbering mess. Again and again He reminds me that the only way I can live in the fullness of His plan (which is what I really want) is to keep my eyes on Him and my confidence in His ability alone. When I dwell in that place of trust, sinking my roots into His fertile soil, my vision becomes clear. God quiets my heart, speaks truth then leads me onward, hand in hand with Him.

My heart was light as I closed my journal that morning. ‘Thank You, Lord,’ I whispered, nodding. I’d been given a fresh reminder that His plan for me in 2022 was to flourish, no matter how the year unfolded. He was my Rock, and there was no wickedness in Him. As long as I stayed close to Him, yielded to His plan and rooted in His strength, I could thrive. To resist His leading and try to go my own way would be to shrivel like a tree in drought.

How is your year shaping up? Are you flourishing? Every day is a new opportunity to yield afresh to God’s plan.

Hope in the midst of winter

~ Susan Brown ~ 2 Comments

Have you braved the outdoors lately?

It was mid-July, the deepest, darkest part of winter – the time of year when sensible people stay tucked up inside by the fire. Yet one unusually warm day the sun streamed through my window and beckoned me outside.

The moment I opened the door, the lilting warble of magpies filled my ears. I smiled and breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet fragrance of wattle blooms. I wandered around the yard, pausing in one place to watch the birds flirt and swoop, bending over in another to study the silent garden beds. Clusters of pale green spikes gave promise of daffodils and bluebells yet to come. Tiny pink buds formed little bumps along the stems of formerly naked trees.

All around me were signs of new life.

July is the coldest winter month, the one we often view as something to endure on our way to warmer weather. We bustle through the mall with hunched shoulders and pinched faces, darting from one toasty shop to the next, barely stopping to greet familiar friends in our hurry to get out of the cold. We battle coughs and colds and long for the carefree vitality we associate with summer. Yet in the midst of the chills and discomforts of our frigid days God gently whispers to us through His creation, “Winter will not last forever.

Spring is coming.”

Our family has had some difficult ‘winters’ in the last couple of years – long bouts of whooping cough, a sudden brush with death and slow recovery, cancer diagnosis for a precious grandpa followed by his rapid decline and passing.

The winters of our lives can feel terribly harsh. Unbearable. Like stark trees in the garden, we feel stripped back to bare bones. Completely void of life. We drag ourselves through each day, weighed down by the heaviness of the struggle, often convinced that it will never end.

Yet it will.

Winter, no matter how harsh, does not last forever. Spring will come. The darkness and heartache will pass and, while some things in our lives may have permanently changed, we will experience beauty and joy again.

Spring will surely come.

But here’s an important thought to ponder: The health and splendour of our spring plants is dependent on how well-rooted they were through the winter months. It’s in winter, when everything appears lifeless, that the plant is preparing for spring, drawing deeply from nourishment in the soil and forming its next season’s shoots.

We may not see much happening on the outside but there is a whole lot going on under the surface.

So it is with us. We can choose in our wintertime to put our roots down deep and draw from the living source. Or we can battle it out alone and just barely survive to emerge in the spring.

I’m reminded of a favourite passage in Jeremiah 17:7-8.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,

Whose confidence is in Him.

He will be like a tree planted by the water

That sends out its roots by the stream.

It does not fear when heat comes;

Its leaves are always green.

It has no worries in a year of drought

And never fails to bear fruit.”

I want to live a life that—like spring blooms—can bring joy and beauty to others. How about you?

For that to happen, we need to stay connected with our Maker, through every season.

Only then can we be a channel of His life and hope.