Posted in the Stroud Forum
#1 May 15, 2008
I cut and pulled thorny wild rose bushes from the rich black Oklahoma soil today. They are so beautiful, covered with masses of fragrant pink blooms, but they are dangerous. Dangerous to wildlife that might get caught in them, like the ram in the thicket that God provided for Abraham as a substitutionary sacrifice in place of his son Isaac. A shadow and type of the sacrifice of Jesus.
But this was a prickly endeavor which left my arms scratched and bleeding. It almost seemed as if the thorny branches tried to grab hold of me, onto my clothes, onto my skin, anything they could catch hold of.
I couldn't help thinking that these wild roses are like love in a way. It's intoxicating to savor and drink in the fragrance of a new, wild, exciting love. Beautiful but dangerous. And after the bloom is gone, the thorns remain, that try to take hold as if not wanting to let go...that tear into the heart, that create wounds that take a long time to heal.
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