Panes of Syon

The Great Conservatory in the gardens of Syon House dates to the 1820s and is largely built from metal and glass. It was a hot day on which I called, so the structure seemed perfect for those tropical plants and trees whose home it has become. Yet summer, as our current skies seem keen to communicate, does not last, and is replaced by a chilly autumn and a colder winter. Those panes of protective glass, seemingly unnecessary on that warm and sunny day, will keep those plants alive when the north wind blows and the frosts descend. Curiously, these panes can barely be seen; their very transparency gives them some kind of invisibility.

The redeemed sinner whom we call a Christian is vulnerable: he is susceptive to the devil’s blasts, the world’s hazards and his own, sinful flesh’s weaknesses. Yet above and around him is a layer of invisible protection, an unseen supply of strength, a reassuring promise of help. Autumn may come and winter can threaten, but we shall continue to live, and grow, and blossom, and flourish.  

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. Psalm 1:3

A D