One hot summer day
I pulled some weeds
From the flowerbeds
In my back yard.
I put them in
A plastic grocery bag.
I meant to throw it
Into the garbage can.
But instead,
The bag got shoved aside
To a forgotten spot
In the garage.
For who knows how long.
All I know
Is that when I discovered it again
It smelled.
Like really bad.
What used to be weeds
Was now
Squishy, slimy pulp
At the bottom of the bag
Mixed with some kind of dark liquid
That had been squeezed out of them
By pure neglect.

And today I was thinking
About how sometimes
Sin is like that –
Thrown into a bag
Forgotten
Rotting
Mistakes mixed with shame –
Until something prompts me to
Clean out my garage.
So that I find the bag.
Ew.

But then
Jesus asks me
To give it to Him.
What?
Who would possibly want this?
But He seems earnest, begging.

My first instinct
Is to hide it.
Which doesn’t make sense
Because we both know
That He already knows it’s there.
But I begin to remember
How He said He can give me
“Life for death
Beauty for ashes
Healing for hurt
and perfection for weakness.” (1)

Plus, I’m dying to know
What He can do
With a plastic grocery bag
Of rotting weeds.

So motivated by curiosity
And tender belief in Him
That He can do
What He says He can do,
I look away in shame
As I reluctantly hand over the bag
With a glove on my hand
Because I don’t want to touch it.
And He doesn’t even flinch.
He receives it
With both hands
The hands that still have nail prints
As if to remind me
That this is His work.
And when I gather enough courage
To look at Him again
I watch as He motions for me
To follow Him.

And then He teaches me
As only He can.
He shows me how
To gently remove the contents
And pour them out
Onto the soil
Together.

And as I kneel next to Him
My tears water the soil
And I notice He has tears too.
Not because He’s condemning me
For my mistakes
As I previously supposed.
But His tears bear compassion
And acknowledge the fact
That the process of learning
Inevitably comes with hurt
And grief
And sadness
That He feels also.
Because I do.
And He reminds me
That there is no other way
For learning to happen.
It’s all part of the story.
But He’s there with me
The entire time.
And He also reminds me
That this isn’t where
The story ends.

So I accept His invitation
To sit back
And I watch in reverent awe
As He does the part
That only He can:

He causes endless flowers to grow
From the very spot
Where we placed
What I thought was trash.
And I’m in tears again
Because I’m overcome
With His love.

And because I begin to understand
That each flower
Represents something beautiful
That was born out of those mistakes
Or in other words, learning:

Compassion
Empathy
Understanding
Grace
Wisdom

And I’m overwhelmed
By their beauty.
And I marvel again
Because what I thought was trash
Is actually compost
To fertilize the flowers
Because of Him.
Because of His love
And because of His power
To do what He does.
And I’m so grateful.

(1) Hear Tad R. Callister teach more about the atonement of Jesus Christ here

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