I read a line in an old favorite devotional book the other day. The book is, indeed, old, probably out of print when my dear friend Arlene happened upon a copy. I’ve read and re-read several times since she gifted it to me in the 1990s–noting the years I read it through in the margin of the last page. Here it is:

That picture doesn’t do it justice, because now several pages are loose and the cover is reinforced with tape. No matter how many times I read it, I often find something “new” within the text. Kind of like when you read the Bible and all of a sudden that passage says something totally appropriate to the season you’re in but you’ve never really seen it that way before.

The phrase that captured my attention the other day is from an anonymous piece in the book. It reads,

My ways are, in a sense, hedged up with thorns and grow darker and darker daily.

Anonymous

You, see, this season of my life feels just that way. I am surrounded by a hedge of prickly thorns that stick me no matter which way I turn. There are just too many problems right now. I feel like I am constantly putting out fires.

And putting out each fire takes time and energy, stealing my joy and peace and stamina and, sometimes, hope. But, what if I had the balance and fortitude of a little bird that perches, oh so nonchalantly, on that branch of thorns, impervious to the pricks and sticks, enjoying life?

And, I found that I can navigate the sharp points of the thorny hedge, if I keep my head on straight and my heart on target. This morning I took the time to really pray, to listen to God rather than just listing things that I want or think I need. And today has been easier. The thorns haven’t brought blood (or tears) as they so often do. Because the answer is not found in my strength to fight the thorns, to escape the darkness. The strength must come from God.

I’m reminded of the fairy tale castles cursed by the wicked witch and surrounded by an impenetrable wall of thorns. Impenetrable until the prince comes with his gleaming sword and hacks powerfully through the hedge with magical powers, climbing ever upward until suddenly the shining castle comes into view, made new by the power of true love.

All I have to do is connect with that power, God’s true love for me. No the hedge does not magically disappear, but the thorns lose their power to hurt, because I am clothed with the reassurance that God cares for my hurt and has a plan for all this to somehow work out.

One day I will see clearly what all this has brought about, how I’ve grown, the things I’ve learned, as I have persevered with God’s unfailing watchcare.

And I will be, once again, free of the hedge of thorns.