Irvin's Flowers (John 17:4)

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I recently finished reading Billy Graham's autobiography. What a guy! His life has been one, excuse me, is one of focused consistency. His life is one that has made and is making a difference in the lives of others. Why? Because he is a preacher? Certainly not. Is he perfect? Nobody's perfect, and he'll be the first to admit that. Because he has reached millions with the gospel? Actually, no. His life has made a tremendous impact because he has worked diligently at completing the tasks to which God has called him. And he's still at it.

When learning about people, like Graham, I've often duped myself into comparing my life's work to others who seem to be accomplishing more and are having a more significant impact. Such thinking isn't productive, and by virtue of scriptural precedent, doesn't seem to be God's way of revealing His will for our lives. But the fog lifts and all comes into focus when I remember a man named Irvin.

It was the summer of 1980. If you worked outdoors that summer, as I did, you remember it well. It was HOT! For over a month, temperatures were over 100 degrees. The earth heated up so much during the day that it kept the air hot all night. There seemed to be no escape, and I had the privilege of driving a tractor - baking on a tractor. I didn't rank high enough to drive an air-conditioned rig, so it was me, the sun, and the dust. Did I mention it was HOT?

Trees were dying. Grass had given up, and colorful flowers were a distant memory - except in front of the little church where I served on the weekends. I led music there and worked with teenagers. And every Wednesday and Sunday when I pulled into the parking lot, my eyes were drawn to a little patch of flowers tended by a man named Irvin. Now I was not a fan of flowers back then, but in a world of abnormally brown and parched vegetation, those perfect petals of brilliant colors sang of life and vitality - thanks to Irvin.

He was a poor man, and not in good health. He was a proud veteran - a soldier "fading away." There were times it seemed you could see the pale gray of a bone beneath his weathered skin. Whenever he started coughing, I thought he would never be able to stop. My heart ached for his health and the conditions he lived in. And I wondered how in the world he was able to make that walk to the church every day...to water those flowers. Especially in the heat! Did I mention how HOT it was?

You see, Irvin would never preach to the millions or sing for the masses; God hadn't so gifted him. But he could water those flowers, and probably many other things that I'm not aware of. He was faithful to do the task for which God enabled him at that point in his life. And that's all God asks of any of us - to do with excellence what He has called us to do. And what is excellence? Doing the best you can... with what you have... every chance you get. And, we are not alone in the pursuit. Paul said that God, who began this good work in us, is faithful to complete it (Phil. 1:6). We find Jesus making this point about his own life in John 17:4, when he prayed to the Father and said, "I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work You gave me to do." There were still sick, blind, and lame who needed healing, but it was not in the Father's plan for Christ's life that He would make all of them whole physically. In becoming a man, He limited the scope of what even He would accomplish on earth in human form. We are limited too, and our responsibility is to be available and faithful... like Irvin.

So, we are wise not to compare ourselves, or Irvin, or anyone else to Billy Graham, Moses, Abraham, or any other high-profiler. I'm convinced that a just God will measure us only in proportion to the gifts we've been given.

I guess you would have had to walk in my boots in that long hot summer of '80 to appreciate the significance of Irvin's simple gift. But over the last twenty years, as I have forgotten far more than I have remembered, God has used the memory of those flowers to keep me focused on pursuing tasks that He will complete in me. And, great or small, they are always within reach. So, for this day, where is your little patch of flowers?

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