The True Self
Feb 26, 2010 by Nancy Buschart | 1 Comments
Like the birth of a baby or the opening of a rose, the birth of the true self takes place in God’s time.
“Like the opening of a rose”
It is February and my roses are a memory and a promise. But, I have an old tropical hibiscus plant that I move in and out of the house according to the seasons. Bringing it in just before first frost, it continues to bloom for a few days and then goes into dormancy. It takes time for it to become acclimated to indoor light and atmosphere. Since October, it has put on new growth and this week it started blooming again. Each bloom is six inches of stunning, crimson beauty. A bloom lasts just one day – it is important to pay attention, and to celebrate each short-lived blossom.
“Like the birth of a baby”
Sometime in the next week I will become ‘nana’ to my first grandchild.* My daughter is very ready for this child to be born – and so am I! Nine months is a long time. We have all been actively waiting, actively praying, actively dreaming of relationship to come, actively imagining God’s knitting together of this precious child in his or her mother’s womb (see Psalm 139).
The True Self
Merton once told me to quit trying so hard in prayer. He said: “how does an apple ripen? It just sits in the sun.” A small green apple cannot ripen in one night by tightening all its muscles, squinting its eyes and tightening its jaw in order to find itself the next morning miraculously large, red, ripe, and juicy beside its small green counterparts. Like the birth of a baby or the opening of a rose (or hibiscus), the birth of the true self takes place in God’s time. We must wait for God, we must be awake; we must trust in his hidden action within us.
Awake, waiting, trusting.
This is all about ‘becoming’ who or what we were designed to become. A small green apple becomes a Red Delicious. A rose becomes a rose, not a hibiscus. A pregnant woman becomes a mother and a child.
All in time – God’s perfect time.
Who is God?
Who am I?
Who am I becoming? . . . .