Andrea Sanborn

As I write this, much of the world is suffering under unrelenting heat. Even here, in far northern Minnesota, we have struggled through some challenging temperatures. But generally, after our long winters, we northerners are grateful for summer in all of its forms.

Once it finally arrives sometime in June, summer explodes around us in lush, gushing, green beauty. From the colorful birds at my feeder to the spotted fawns cavorting in my woods, life bursts out in joy everywhere I look. Even the nights are filled with warbling loons and owls hooting while fireflies blink softly on the margins of the yard.

And then come the wildflowers. Patches of purple lupine line the neighborhood streets, and the meadows are erupting in yellow, white and orange.

I wonder how a person can hold a utilitarian view of life when such abundance floods our view. When puffy clouds advance in ranks from the far horizon.

We have, indeed, been given a purpose, as has creation all around us. Scripture tells us that God has planned good works for us to do. But those works are not the reason we exist. We exist, simply, for love’s sake. It is why we are all precious: not for our ability, but in our inability to make our own way. We are designed to respond to so great a love with gratitude. With trust. With works born from the overflow of God’s creative design.

I used to question those works, thinking that my ordinary life stood between me and something worthy. Something more.

I was wrong.

Holiness is most often forged among cubicles and filing cabinets. In front of sink and stove. In all the frustrating, repetitive tasks that humble us enough to realize that it’s not about us, after all. Will we lean into that gift?

As flowers bloom under the summer sun, we too can bloom under harsh office lights and beside dim bedside lamps. Spotlights may highlight a few, but our common, ordinary lamps lend a more honest appraisal. These are the suns that teach us that our purpose is love, not utility. That every place is an opportunity to display his glory, if we are willing to accept it.

The wildflowers are filling the fields right now, not for performance, but for love. The hidden nooks and crannies in the woods still burst with life, even though no human eye beholds them. They don’t refuse the sunlight in hopes that a spotlight will find them. They know that there is One who sees them, and that is more than enough.

Like the wildflowers, now is our time to blossom under Heaven’s gaze. To reflect the glory of our Creator. Soon we will wither and fade, as Scripture says, and we will be gathered to Him. But now—now is our time to bloom.