Wasting Away in Blackberries

 

The old farm where I grew up has been in the process of being destroyed organically. My dad sold it back in the 1970s and since then, blackberry briars have taken over. Wherever an opening was found in any structure still standing, they snaked inside, digging in their thorns, pulling down roofs and decimating walls. Little of the barn buildings can be seen and if left as is, blackberry vines would fully encase the house. It's not known why the destruction was allowed but my heart hurt to see this once beautiful property looking like Sleeping Beauty's castle before the prince came to rescue her. Renovating was no longer an option at this point. If ever I were able to buy back this land, the only thing to do would be to bring in a bulldozer and completely level it before restoration could begin.

A writing exercise sent me to this Bible verse: "The LORD determined to tear down the wall around the Daughter of Zion. He stretched out a measuring line and did not withhold his hand from destroying. He made ramparts and walls lament; together they wasted away." (Lamentations 2:8 NLT) As sad as it looks and for various reasons I found with further study, God made the choice to let Israel, the Daughter of Zion, be destroyed. Whether it was with blackberries or some other vegetation, or at the hands of sword-wielding warriors, the end came. He still has a plan for full restoration that He is working on. He has measured it all out and knows exactly how far things must go. Clearly grieving over loss is an expected part of the process. 

I grieve over losing things, from certain places I enjoyed living in, to loved ones making less than best choices, to friendships that soured and died, to my own youthfulness passing by. I look around to see where God put His measuring line in hopes the mark He placed for the boundary is in sight.

In Bible Study Fellowship this year we're looking at how God did bring Israel back out of Babylon to their homeland. Knowing that God uses a measuring tape reassures me that there will come a time of restoration. When I understand that tearing down a city allows a new one to be built, hope surges up and the pain in my heart ebbs. 

And where the old farm is concerned, a new owner has purchased it. Changes are slowly happening there. Yes, hope rises. 

So when I look at upcoming changes in my life, changes that mean closing the door on the familiar and dear and moving through a door that leads to new surroundings, I'm grieving at the loss, but also beginning to feel flickers of hopeful expectation at where God's measuring line is drawn.