Love Is Long-suffering Like Lotus Flower Seeds
My friend gave me a beautiful pair of lotus flower earrings a couple of months ago. I marveled over them when I took them out of the box, and she, smiling, said, “You know the significance of a lotus, right? How they grow through the mud and bloom anyway, and then do it all over again?”
I’ve always admired the beauty of lotuses, and loosely knew of their significance and tie to many Asian cultures, but until that moment, I didn’t know how hard they worked to bloom and rebloom. I didn’t know what they had to grow their way through.
Weeks later, I was on a walk in our suburban neighborhood and gasped. One of our neighborhood ponds was covered in what looked like bright pink lotus blooms or water lilies. I walked closer to observe them. They were glowing orbs of perfectly pink petals with yellow in the middle. If I looked closely enough, I could see below the flowers and their pads. Each flower was connected to a long brown stem reaching through the murky, stale water.
Once I was home and had a minute to myself, I googled, “lotus flower and water lilies.” My enneagram 5 wing kicked into high gear as I collected information, noting their similarities. The influx of information fueled my wonder even further. Our neighborhood flowers are lily pads, but the differences between the two kinds of flowers are hard to distinguish.
Nelumbo nucifera. Kamala. Hoa Sen. Liánhuã. Lotus. In Korean culture, braised lotus root, yeongeun jorim, is often served as banchan. I’ve eaten it alongside of kimchi and other side dishes without realizing what it really was, or what it had grown through, and what kind of flower it grew and regrew before ending up part of the table spread.
Nymphaeaceae. Sesen. Nape. Monet’s beloved flower. Lily pad. I took in the varied names and deep cultural significance these flowers have had all over the world for centuries. Their sights and stories have been called sacred, and yet, they found me, a middle-aged woman on a walk, taken by their weekday sermon found in a suburban retention pond.
Both flowers have roots that reach through the mud and dark water, blooming beautifully anyway, sinking back into the dark, then resurrecting by day, again and again.
Right now, I wake up some mornings and wonder how long an ongoing situation will remain. Without words, I feel myself asking, “Is anything going to be different today? Will I have to push through the things I’d rather avoid, again and again? Will it ever get better?” And like the Psalmists long before me, “How long, oh Lord?”
Maybe you know those questions in an intimate way right now, too. Maybe they cloud your waking, or wake you in the night like they do for me, making your days cloudy. But God has been reminding me of the lotus and the lily pad. These living messages of hope, resurrection, beauty, and new mercies are sprinkled and placed throughout the world in neighborhoods and nature spreads alike. They have been speaking sermons, shepherding weary hearts, and even feeding bellies across the world, for centuries. They hold a piece of the truth of our belovedness in their created blooms.
God wrote love and mercy into the pages of Scripture and into the flowers and wind and trees. There’s no murky water too dark or too deep or too dirty for God’s love to take root. There’s no light or warmth too far from the layered depths of loss we find ourselves swimming in. Whatever thing you’re losing hope for, whatever ongoing struggle you face day after day, God’s mercy is moving alongside of you and will not leave.
I read that while a lotus seed may germinate, grow, and bloom in a few months’ time, it can also lay dormant for thousands of years before blooming. Can you imagine? The next time you see a lotus, it’s possible that bloom has waited a long time to become what you see. Let it be a love letter from God, for your weary heart.
“God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out; his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left.” Lamentations 3:22-24 MSG
By Tasha Jun as originally featured on (in)courage, a DaySpring community.
