The Tendril's Faith

God, gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did. Romans 4:17 NKJV

This has always been a favorite scripture describing the faith of Abraham and the Almightiness of Abraham's God. The God who likes to do the calling. "Light, BE!" A really breathtaking example of His creative utterances comes immediately to mind.

He is a plan ahead Sovereign. The Plan is the reality. When He plans a thing it exists from that very second, seen or unseen. How wonderful then to consider Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Feeling less that prosperous, hardly hopeful? Me too sometimes but The Plan is the reality. Let's not let our feelings convince us otherwise. God's world is brimming over with creative utterances about us. All of His Kingdom is coming into agreement with His Plan for those who are "the called." Those whose surname is "καλέω" Called. Isn't that an awe inspiring thought? No matter what names you have given yourself or other have named you, flattering or otherwise, your family name, your surname is Called.

It is below zero today. Way, way below in some parts of Alaska. Snow and ice dominate the landscape but underground spring is waiting for her call. The coldest winter will not prevent her welcome arrival. It cannot come soon enough for me.

I found a lovely poem in my wanderings. It spoke to me of hope underground, of calling those things that are not as though they absolutely are. I offer it here as an encouragement to myself and to you.


The Tendril's Faith

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Under the snow in the dark and the cold,
A pale little sprout was humming;
Sweetly it sang,'neath the frozen mold,
Of the beautiful days that were coming.

"How foolish your songs," said a lump of clay,
"What is there, I ask, to prove them?
Just look at the walls between you and the day,
Now, have you the strength to move them?"

But under the ice and under the snow
The pale little sprout kept singing,
"I cannot tell how, but I know, I know,
I know what the days are bringing."

"Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees,
Blue, blue skies above me,
Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees,
And the great glad sun to love me."

A pebble spoke next: "You are quite absurd."
it said, "with your song's insistence;
For I never saw a tree or a bird,
So of course there are none in existence."

"But I know, I know," the tendril cried,
In beautiful sweet unreason;
Till lo! from its prison, glorified,
It burst in the glad spring season.


I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD

(Is that you humming?)

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