No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched.
The old life is a grass life,
its beauty as short-lived as wildflowers;
Grass dries up, flowers droop,
God’s Word goes on and on forever.
This is the Word that conceived the new life in you.
~ 1 Peter 1:24-25
I have been admiring the heads of the ornamental grasses of my neighbors. Each day that I walk our little exuberant dog, I have occasion to observe the stages of the grasses. Some seem to be tossing their hair in the wind to see how it will be caught, some seem to huddle together for a group experience, some pop up in my front lawn, so far from their own kind, yet near another kind of beautiful grass.
I look at them over and over again, watch their birth, their lives, their fading, their plucking out, their wandering. Each one indeed fades, or is mowed down or dug out because of the rate at which it has spread. Even the ones who are mowed down lift their heads once more.
The grasses toss their heads in praise, looking at the heavens, hanging on the moist earth, burnishing deep burgundy, or gold. They go out praising God. What a good example. They stand, a testimony to the word of God, even as they fade. Would that I do too.
Because of Him,