Stop and Tend the Roses

How God restores our faith in times of neglect and shame

This article is part of the Claritas fall 2023 issue, Stages. Read the full print release here.

By: cassandra stump

All was the rose plant. It accompanied her in her small studio apartment. It was pure and petite, still growing in stature, confident, and beautiful. All she had to do was nurture it—water it, keep it by the window, and bathe it in sunlight. It needed her care; attention was all it required. While it may seem insignificant, this rose plant was what kept her going during her darkest nights and her gloomiest mornings. It was her guiding light and ray of hope when all else failed—the deep crimson red glittering and glistening on her windowsill warmly welcoming her home. All was the rose plant.

At first, it started with her taking on an extra hour at the office; she had to put in overtime in order to afford the life she was trying to live. Cardigans, new shoes, and rose gold necklaces ate up paycheck after paycheck. She was no longer thinking about anything except how to turn one hour of overtime into two, three, or maybe even four. Her mind was too occupied to notice the flower beginning to call out to her for attention. Weeks started to slip by, and the girl hadn’t bat an eye in its direction. The more responsibility she took on, the later she came home; exhausted and unhappy, she often fell right into bed, no longer noticing the beautiful rose welcoming her home. 

After spending extra hours at the office, she began to visit her local pub in search of a source of entertainment, to relax her after her long, tiresome days. And that was when it all started to snowball. Before she knew it, she was a girl walking around with half of who she was; constantly tired, upset, drained, unhappy, and becoming more empty by the second. She had to look to other sources for a quick fix of dopamine—that same kind of feeling she used to get by spending time with her once beloved rose. The girl forgot all about that rose.

It was springtime, and the rose was meant to blossom. But neglected and forgotten, the rose’s growth was stunted. For weeks, she left her studio apartment and returned without even glancing in the rose’s direction. Too tired, too sad, too hurt, too broken. She was so empty that the plant’s pot became empty too. She didn’t notice the slight sag of the petals one day or its blackened red color the next. It wasn’t until the rose lay limp in its pot that she noticed it was dead. All was not the rose plant.

Shame washed over the girl, crowding out every other emotion. Everything that bothered her only moments before was gone; all she could think now was about the flower she let die. Guilt and grief are strong emotions: They force us to brood over what we could have done differently and leave us feeling empty in our debts. Regretting what she did to the rose—or rather what she didn’t do for the rose—she promised herself that she would never be responsible for the death of another flower.

The girl had been overtaken by worldly possessions and demands, neglecting what brought her true comfort and happiness. Distracted by all the glitz and glamor of materialistic items, she had lost herself. The girl got swept up in the heat of things, forgetting to nurture her brightest ray of hope: the rose. And once the rose was gone, she felt herself leave with it. Her self worth was questioned as she wondered how she could’ve done such a thing to the rose. We too often feel this heavy burden on our shoulders of trying to compare ourselves to unreachable standards. The girl had a hard time forgiving herself for what she had done and compared herself to the standard of a perfect gardener who wouldn’t neglect their flowers.

Both Christians and non-Christians measure their value and worth against some unattainable ideal. For non-Christians, the standard might be peace, love, or justice; for Christians, it is the perfect example set by Jesus. And sometimes, our inability to meet the standard leaves us downtrodden.

My friend, Lucy, refuses to go to church because she feels undeserving of love, even the love offered by Christ. Lucy is living within a framework where her values are determined by the morality of her actions. She will sin and then fall into depression where she feels unworthy and unloved. We’re often, like Lucy, tempted to think of our relationship with God like a chain; every time we sin, we think a piece of the chain chips away. It keeps chipping and chipping, with each sin, until one day, a gap emerges and the chain breaks in two. The relationship with God is broken. 

But this is not entirely true. God knows we are human. He, even better than ourselves, knows our sin. People like the girl with the rose, however, choose to engage in behaviors that draw them away from God and, once they realize how far they’ve drifted, think it is too late to make their way back. They are afraid that God and other Christians won’t love them, accept them, or welcome them back. Because they are ashamed, guilty, and embarrassed, they leave the church altogether. According to James, sin comes from our own evil desires. [1] The sins we commit are acts we often choose to engage in, drummed up within ourselves. Or sometimes, our sins are the result of inaction. Therefore, we feel responsible for what we’ve done and struggle with a sense of shame. We feel impure. Many Christians, including college students, leave the church because they feel or are afraid of being judged by other Christians. 

College students are exposed to many experiences that wear us down and cause us to feel damaged, lost, and broken. This results in us being like that wilted and drooping rose. We work hard during the week, studying for classes, and stress over exams. Then, when the week is finished, we reward ourselves by “letting off steam.” Some students scroll on social media, others drink excessively, but we all surrender our identity to the weekend. Students choose to partake in these activities because it helps them forget about their insufficiencies, or it helps relieve the stress, even if only momentarily. This is all fun and games until we realize we’re not truly happy or self-fulfilled. We realize, in the end, how far we’ve drifted from our moral compass, and we no longer recognize ourselves or what is important to us. We feel shame and guilt for what we've been doing. We turn into the girl with the neglected rose, swearing we will never do the same again. Lost and confused, we turn away from God and the Church because we believe we’re “too far gone.” We do not want to face God because we know He has seen all we’ve participated in, and we are afraid of what other Christians will say or think.

But God has shown us that His forgiveness is boundless. In Matthew 18, we read, “If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off.” [2] This is God; every one of His children is important to Him—“one” is not an insignificant number to Him. “Joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.” [3] God will not shun someone for straying away from the church and then coming back—He will rejoice. God wants all of His hurt, lost, and struggling children to come back home. 

Father Joe, my priest from back home, preached that the Church opens its arms to any and everyone, no matter our past and no matter our sins. God forgives us. Father Dan, here at Cornell’s Sage Chapel, said something very similar, that labeling people for their past does an injustice to who they are as a person. Just because they did bad things in their past does not mean they cannot learn, grow, and change for the better. Labeling someone and reducing their entire existence to their past is not upright.

 We engage in activities that make us feel bad about ourselves, resulting in us avoiding church, thinking God is angry at us. A family member of mine remarked at feeling unworthy. “I am too dirty to step foot into God’s home,” they said. “I am unworthy. He knows of every unspeakable thing that I have done and I am embarrassed.” However, Proverbs 28:13 says, “No one who conceals transgressions will prosper, but one who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.” [4]

The wilted and damaged rose from the apartment can be restored. The season of spring is a season of restoration, hope, and rebirth. We celebrate Christ’s resurrection in the spring. Consider Song of Solomon 2:11-12: “For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” [5] Or Isaiah 40:6: “All people are like grass, and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field.” [6]

The rose died once, but that doesn’t mean a new one cannot bloom and blossom in its place. It doesn't mean that there is no hope left for those who have strayed away from the Church or let their faith dwindle. We can always let a new rose be sown in us. We can always embrace God’s ever-loving, forgiving, and patient bond. Restoration is, according to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, the “the act of returning something to a former place, condition, or ownership.” [7] We have the ability to place our faith in God—its proper place, to lead a life of hope—our proper condition, and to return to a loving God—our proper owner.

[1] James  1:13-15

[2]  Matthew 18:10-14 (NIV)

[3] Luke 15:7 (KJV)

[4] Proverbs 28:13 (NRSVA)

[5] Song of Songs 2:11-12 (AMP)

[6] Isaiah 40:6 (NIV)

[7] “Restoration.” n.d. Merriam-Webster.