The Bees Don't Understand

But Jesus replied, “My Father is always working, and so am I.”
-John 5:17 (NLT) 

Late last fall, my wife Bethany shared a poem with me that she composed while working out in our garden. She wrote it without requiring a specific interpretive metaphor, but it speaks to me this week. As the weather turns cold for the first time on the east coast, and our flowers start to die, we have no choice but to walk through it on the path to new life in a few months. And so I'm thinking about the work that God longs to do during the many deaths we face in life as seasons change. 

I know many who are reading this have been walking through the changing of your own seasons, and the deaths that are a part of all of it. Empty nesting, job transitions, personal losses, deep exhaustion, rebuilding your faith. And I'm thinking about how hard it is to welcome and embrace the work of Jesus in us during those times, as he takes what is dead and brings new life in new ways. It's hard to trust that work in the moment. So perhaps we may find ourselves feeling like the bees. But today, in these simple words, I invite you to rest in the knowledge that the Holy Spirit will continue to make way for new life to occur, as long as we stay connected to God's never-fading hand of love. Perhaps you'll see what I saw, or perhaps these words will whisper something new to you. This is shared with Bethany's permission. 
​
The Bees Don't Understand

The bees don’t understand
As they hover over me
Watching closely
As I hover over their flowers
They watch my hand as it moves amongst the blooms
Disturbing, selecting, removing
The brown shriveled heads
Once bright 
Once beautiful
Once life-giving 
Now dull
And ugly
Still giving life
Even in their death
As I extract the seeds 
Crushing brittle brown flowers 
Between my fingers
The bees don’t understand
What I am doing
They buzz around me
Concerned
Alarmed
Disturbed
How dare I touch their flowers?
How dare I disturb their life source?
But life is what I am after
Life after death
Life because of death
Tiny seeds 
That will start the cycle over again in the spring
The bees don’t understand
How a dead flower will give life to many
The bees don’t understand 
That a feast is being prepared for them
In a few months 
The pinks
And oranges
And yellows
Will beckon
Come and dine!
The harvest is plentiful!
The beauty of last year
Has multiplied
And expanded
Bright
Beautiful
Life-giving
And the bees will feast
But they still won’t understand

Jesus, may we rest in your gentle care and cultivation as we seek to live faithfully in step with you today. 

Peace,
Keith ​​