A Box of Rose Petals

Laura Booz: Are you a romantic? I am a romantic . . . always have been. Even when I was a teenager, I would sit down at the piano and play all of the oldies. Those beautiful love songs, like “Stardust,” “My Funny Valentine,” “Moon River.” I would play them and sing them for hours and just create these beautiful romantic storylines in my imagination.

One of the romantic things I was doing at the time was storing up all of the rose petals from the roses I received. Sometimes my dad would give us roses for Valentine’s Day. I would take petals and store them in a cardboard box that I kept in my closet. 

Sometimes we would get roses after a performance, a concert, or a play. I would take those rose petals and put them in the shoe box, layering them on top. And then of course, later on in my high school years I had a boyfriend who would sometimes bring me roses. I took those petals and layered them on top of this beautiful box of rose petals. 

Well, one day a friend was questioning my level of romantic devotion, and I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was very clear. I was a romantic through and through. So, I said, “Come with me right now.” We went upstairs and I opened my closet door. I said, “I have been saving every rose petal that I have received.” I took out that shoebox, and I opened the shoe box, and I looked down at that shoebox and couldn’t believe my eyes. They were covered in a thick film of furry, white mold. 

I was mortified. Where was all of the romance now? Covered in mold. My friend crossed her arms and looked at me like, “Hmm . . . I told you so.” I just sighed. Once she went home, I locked myself in my room. I opened my bedroom window, which mind you, was on the second story. I opened the screen and tossed the rose petals out the window thinking they would flutter and fly far away over the mountain and dale. 

But instead, because they had been knit together by this fuzzy mold, they just fell in a big clump in the backyard.

Okay, so stick with me, because you know me, I’ve got a spiritual parallel. Some days, many days, I feel like I have stored it all up. I am laying my life down, doing the Christian thing, loving other people, giving everything I’ve got, and yet when I really take a good look at it, I don’t see a treasure. I see no good growth.

Now, I’m not just talking about those times when we must be patient with the Lord. No, I’m talking about those times when I am doing all the things for all the people, instead of something glorious, I really do see mold. 

I’m serving people, but I’m irritable, I’m resentful, I’m completely depleted. I lay awake at night worrying that I am messing everything up, or stewing in bitterness or anger or anxiety.  Can you relate?

The first three verses of 1 Corinthians 13, you know the beautiful “Love Chapter,” are a very close equivalent of what it may look like for you and me to lay our lives down in the wrong way and for the wrong reason. 

Now, I am going to read 1 Corinthians 13:1–3, and I’m just wondering if you can hear some of our day-to-day sacrifices in there? Here’s what Paul wrote:

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Am I the only one? Or do we live like that from day to day? I can hear us carefully crafting our words to teach and win people over and patch over our problems. We strive so hard to understand the right thing to do in every decision. We work hard physically, perhaps to make food, or money, or to clean up for people. But the Bible says, if we lay our lives down but have not love, we are nothing, and we gain nothing. 

I often feel the reality of this, do you? It takes me back to those rose petals. Here I am thinking I’m investing in something valuable and meaningful and productive, but I’m not. After some time in prayer, I often discover that I’m doing all the things for all the people and sacrificing for God, but I’m storing up my treasure in a moldy shoebox of guilt. 

Maybe I’m doing it because I just feel guilty, for one reason or another. Or sometimes I’m living for God, but it’s out of fear. Fear of what may happen in the future or a sense of control that maybe if I just live this way, I can keep myself from being hurt, or keep other people from being hurt. Other times I lay down my life out of a desire to please other people, or to be like other people, or even to make up for other people’s lack. 

But without love, I am just growing a box of moldy rose petals. If you can relate, I want you to know, there’s hope for us. Because Paul doesn’t stop at verse 3 in 1 Corinthians 13. Instead, he calls us to lay down our lives in love. He says to have love . . . And of course, he’s not wanting us to create love on our own, which I think is sometimes how we interpret it. It’s the only hope for us to have love, is to simply lay ourselves down in love and see what God will do next. 

I hope you’re very familiar with the rest of 1 Corinthians 13, but if you’re not, make sure you go to your Bible and read it when you’re finished listening to this podcast episode.

Paul writes that love is patient and kind; it doesn’t envy and boast; it’s not arrogant or rude, and he goes on and on. It’s so restorative to our souls. It’s definitely a chapter to spend a lot of time in.

In fact, one day weary of giving to my children out of the wrong motivations, out of guilt and fear, a desire to please other people, and do it for other people, I sat down with my Bible open to 1 Corinthians 13. I wrote my response as a mom, and I’m going to read it to you now. Maybe you would like to take some time to write something similar for your own circumstances and relationships. Here it is, just one mom’s meditation on 1 Corinthians 13. 

If I am a mom, but don’t have love, I am just a woman trying to manage my child’s life. If I craft words to communicate perfectly with my child, but have not love, I am a noisy gong. If I have all the answers regarding my child’s well-being, and if I serve my child around the clock and don’t have love, I’m just a weary servant. If I give away all I have and if I offer my body as a place for my child to grow, cling, cry, and cuddle, if I am utterly consumed with motherhood, but have not love, I gain nothing. But if I burrow myself deep in God’s love for me, I will thrive, and have something truly nourishing to offer my child. 

God is patient with me as I figure out how to raise my children. He is kind toward me, even when I am hard on myself. He doesn’t envy me when I am thriving as a mom. Nor does He boast about how much better He would do it. He’s not arrogant or rude to me, even though I show the wear and tear of motherhood. He does not insist on His own way, but created me to be the unique one-of-a-kind, right woman for the job. He’s irritable with me when I pester Him for help. Nor is He resentful of me when I just don’t understand. God doesn’t rejoice when I mess up, but He loves when I get it right. He believes the truth about me. He bears all the motherhood burdens. He hopes for the best. God endures all things on my behalf and His love for me and my child never ends.

I am working off a limited understanding of motherhood and what it takes to raise my child. But someday, I will fully understand how much God knows and loves me, but for now, the greatest thing I can do is to let His love surround me, warm my heart, rewire my brain, massage my emotions, guide my motions, permeate my personality, rearrange my schedule, dismantle my defenses, surprise me with answered prayers, and give me every reason to expect something beautiful to grow.

You know if you store rose petals in a damp shoebox, and shove it in your closet, nothing pretty will happen, believe me. But if you plant a rose bush in the soil, now that’s a different story. A rose’s surroundings determine everything for that rose. The difference between life and death. 

Similarly, our surroundings determine everything for us. If we sacrifice for God and others out of guilt or fear or any lesser than motivation, we will be disappointed. But when we lay ourselves down in God’s love, God’s wonderful, perfect love for us, and give from the reality of being truly loved by God, we can really expect something beautiful to grow. 

I know from personal experience that one powerful way we can live out 1 Corinthians 13 is by taking the 30-Day Husband Encouragement Challenge. Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth first issued this challenge years ago on the podcast Revive Our Hearts. I think I heard it at the time, took the challenge, and it truly transformed my heart and blessed our marriage. And believe me, I am up for taking it again. 

The challenge is to refrain from saying anything negative about our husbands for thirty days, and to say at least one positive thing to him each day. Nancy hears from women all the time telling her what a difference it has made in their marriage. The team at Revive Our Hearts wants to make this challenge as easy as possible to follow. So they’ve put together a book called The 30-Day Husband Encouragement Challenge, and they’d love to send you a copy as a way to say “thank you”when you donate any amount to Revive Our Hearts.

The reason this podcast can exist is thanks to listeners like you who donate to Revive Our Hearts. When you donate this month, you can ask for the book The 30-Day Husband Encouragement Challenge. Visit ReviveOurHearts.com to donate and get all of the details. 

Expect Something Beautiful is a production of Revive Our Hearts calling women to freedom, fullness, and fruitfulness in Christ. 

All Scripture is taken from the ESV.