I'd seen them growing in the gardens and yards of neighbors while Dad drove through town or while I was riding the bus to school at Trenton. I was in high school before I knew what they were called but I had for years admired iris blooms.
Admiration often occurs well before understanding, doesn't it? We don't have to even know the name of a thing, much less be able to explain it, in order to appreciate its beauty. With no comprehension of light refraction or reflection, or even a hint of awareness of atmospheric particles, we can fully adore a spectacular sunrise or sunset. Without even having heard of prismatic affect, we gape at the rainbow.
Granted, the more I have learned about the universe and the atom, and many of the aspects of creation in between, the more I have marveled. But I have tried with reasonable success to keep knowledge and understanding from interfering with appreciation and admiration. Thus, my continued infatuation with iris blooms.
Their lush delicacy, their intricacy of shape and form, their spectacular richness of color and intensity of hue. The intermingling of subtlety and drama. The mystery of their hidden elements. The seeming infiniteness of variety in color as well as style. Even the rose does not rival their glorious display. Though the gladiola is also lush and wonderful, no other flower common to West Kentucky in my years of growing up even approached the level of mesmerizing beauty I still see in the iris.
And yet, in the unopened bud, there is not the slightest suggestion of the loveliness that will emerge. Even though every aspect is already being formed, nothing about that hard covering gives hint to what will come forth. We must wait for its revelation. And even though the first bits of petal that thrust their way out of the encompassing bud do give notice of at least some of the color, we must wait until the blossom is fully formed to truly observe all that it is and will be.
God's plans and purpose in our lives do not always emerge fully formed. Even as he reveals more and more, we often cannot acquire the angle of view required to comprehend all that he is doing. We have neither the perspective nor the depth of insight and understanding to see the glory of his will and purpose. Even as things unfurl, we may still not grasp the full meaning and effect. We are focused on a narrow slice of a single petal; he is concerned with a garden the size of the planet and even more. We struggle to comprehend the meaning of the green-sheathed bulge at the end of a stem while he is at work in fulfilling the masterpiece of his design.
From time to time, we may even overlook how our own kindness, compassion, mercy, and forgiveness accomplish the complete expression of his love for us and others. So long as we submit to the shaping of his hand and the leading of his Spirit, we are being formed into the completeness of the image of Christ. We are being fashioned into a spectacle of beauty and spirit that exceeds our capacity to comprehend.
The bloom of the iris has no awareness of its own glory and wonder. Nor does it need it.
One day, when we look into the divine mirror of our own lives, we will fully understand the marvelous work that God has done in us. And we will give him all the glory.
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