Of Marigolds and the Messiah

Day 141

2 Samuel 7–8 | 1 Corinthians 1:1–17 | Psalm 60

“This is not at all how we thought it was supposed to be…”

Every time life doesn’t go according to plan, those lyrics come flooding back. I first heard them over two decades ago when my Aunt Carol sang them at church on Easter Sunday. The original songwriter had written them in grief, in the wake of deep personal loss. But they’ve become my anthem anytime the outcome jars against my expectation.

Because life rarely unfolds the way we imagined.

We had so many plans.

So many dreams.

So many… yellow marigolds.

But sometimes—when God says no—He’s not withholding something good. He’s preparing something greater.

David’s Dream, God’s Plan

In 2 Samuel 7, David has a dream: to build God a house.

He’s just become king over all Israel. The ark has been brought to Jerusalem. His enemies are subdued. His palace is built.

And now—he wants to honor the Lord.

But God says no.

Not because the desire is wrong. Not because David isn’t worthy. But because God’s plan is bigger than David’s vision.

“You are not the one to build Me a house,” God essentially says. “I will build you one.”

And then He makes David a staggering promise:

“Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before Me.” (2 Samuel 7:16)

David wanted to build a building.

God wanted to establish a throne.

David asked to do something for God.

God promised to do something far greater through David—something that would culminate in Jesus.

It wasn’t the story David expected.

But it was better than he could’ve dreamed.

The Marigolds and the Messiah

Saturday was Sophia’s birthday party. A masquerade dinner in the backyard. Elegant. Thoughtful. Beautiful. Everything a girl turning 13 could ever imagine.

I wanted everything to be perfect. So I went to Lowe’s, bought twelve vibrant yellow African marigolds, and planted them strategically throughout the backyard.

But I also have a six-month-old yellow Lab puppy. Sadie.

And I knew I had to wait until Sadie was over at Jason and Monica’s—where she was staying during the party—before I planted the flowers. Otherwise, she’d tear them to shreds.

I joked with Jason: “She might get one or two.”

Then we let her out the next morning.

By the time we got home from church, the backyard looked like a floral crime scene. Shredded yellow petals scattered like confetti.

Every single one of the twelve blooms snapped and mauled.

Not at all how I thought it was supposed to be.

I dug up what remained—just green stems and dirt—and replanted them along the walkway in our front yard. And something surprising happened.

Now, those battered little marigolds brighten the path to our front door. They greet every guest who comes to our home.

They didn’t end up where I wanted.

But maybe they ended up where they were meant to be.

Because sometimes, the death of your plan is the birth of something so much better.

The Cross That Looked Like Defeat

Of course, the ultimate example is Calvary.

To those standing at the foot of the cross, it looked like failure. They thought the Messiah was gone. Their hopes were nailed to a Roman beam.

But three days later, God revealed the plan.

Jesus didn’t come to conquer Rome.

He came to conquer death.

And what looked like the end was actually the beginning.

Because sometimes God says no—so He can give you more.

Not more comfort. But more glory.

Not more success. But more sanctification.

Not a bigger position. But a deeper peace.

A Divided Church. An Undivided Christ.

In 1 Corinthians 1, Paul writes to a fractured church.

Divided loyalties. Confused leadership. Misplaced identity.

And he brings them back to the one thing that matters:

“Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?” (v. 13)

It’s his way of saying:

Stop anchoring yourself in people.

Stop expecting others to complete what only Christ can.

Because when God says no to your idols, He’s saying yes to your soul.

What Psalm 60 Knows

Psalm 60 is a psalm of confusion.

“You have rejected us… broken our defenses… made Your people see hard things.” (v. 1–3)

But it doesn’t stay there.

It ends with this:

“With God we shall do valiantly; it is He who will tread down our foes.” (v. 12)

Not because everything made sense.

But because God’s sovereignty is not based on our understanding.

He sees what we can’t.

He leads when we don’t know the way.

And He gives more—even when He says no.

So if something in your life right now makes you say to yourself: This is not at all how I thought it was supposed to be…

Take heart.

Because Paul was shipwrecked—and still reached Rome.

David heard no—and still got Jesus.

I lost my 12 picture-perfect marigolds—and gained a front yard full of color.

And when Jesus looked dead?

He was actually changing the world for all eternity.

Lord, thank You that You don’t always give me what I want. You give me what I need. Thank You for shredded marigolds that get replanted into something more beautiful. For closed doors that lead to greater callings. For crosses that give way to empty tombs. Let me trust You when You say no. And let me praise You when You give more than I even knew to ask.

Amen.


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