Garden Door

Janie's got a hidden garden
she's been tending it for years
and when the world gets too oppressive
she hides away in there
Janie's got a sanctuary
where she can speak her every need
and when she's longing for reflection she falls
down to her knees

These lyrics are from “Janie’s Garden” by Erin O’Donnel. It uses a common metaphor for prayer: the garden, the inner sanctuary of the soul.

I recently read a book about the life of Saint Maria Theresa of Avila, a Spanish nun who was influential during the Catholic Counter-Reformation. Her historical accomplishments aside, the woman was a mighty prayer, and we can learn a lot from her. Maria Theresa reached an intimacy with God that few have matched, yet which is attainable for all of us.

Her metaphor for prayer, to explain herself to others, was a garden of the soul that you and the Master work together to tend. With slow, constant, dedicated care the barren ground slowly springs to life. Roses blossom, colors and soft aromas flourish. The soul slowly becomes a reflection of the paradise that we all long for.

It makes me think of The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgsen Burnett, where a young girl’s work to restore a ruined garden slowly restores the lives of those around her as well.

This garden is essential, and I urge you to cultivate one of your own; a quiet, beautiful place in your heart reserved for God alone. A place where you can meet with the Maker and experience his beauty and love. It will strengthen you and help you grow in ways you could not imagine.

But we cannot stay in the garden. There is a door, and we must use it. God wants us to join him in the garden, but he also wants us to leave.

And we do not leave empty handed. When I stand at the garden door, a green and growing paradise behind me, I am struck by the bleak landscape before me. The earth is hard and dry. What life there is has fought for every drop of water, and so is yellow and shriveled. We cannot stay in our gardens while a wasteland waits outside the door.

Cultivate your garden, and then take what you have cultivated out into the world. Take cuttings and samples and buckets of water into the parched land around you and begin the work again. It is harder, so much harder, to work this dry ground that the soft, moist dirt of a soul already prepared for God.

The way is difficult, and few take up the challenge. But we cannot keep our gardens alive if we do not extend the blessing beyond ourselves. We cannot sit in our churches and shake our heads at the world while sitting on our hands. We cannot follow God without declaring his message to others, because this is exactly what he has commanded us to do.

So go beyond the garden door without fear, because no matter how far away you get, the sanctuary you left behind is only ever just a step away.