My yard is blessed by an overabundance of thistles–probably my least-favorite plant. With all the rain and wind we received in the late spring in our region this year, a few thistles multiplied to literally hundreds seemingly overnight. Thorny and prickly and nearly impossible to pull out without the right tools, gloves, and technique, they still seem to defy me and grow back the next week to impede the paths around our home and poke my toddler as she explores the yard. 

For all of these reasons and more, I was sure for the longest time that the thistle is a weed, and not just any old weed, but the meanest and most noxious weed of them all.  After noticing lovely blooms on the taller thistles around the area, however, I looked it up and was surprised to learn that it is a highly valued and beneficial flowering plant whose prickles simply help protect it from being eaten by herbivores. Not only that, but according to Wikipedia, “Biennial thistles are particularly noteworthy for their high wildlife value, producing such things as copious floral resources for pollinators, nourishing seeds for birds like the goldfinch, foliage for butterfly larvae, and down for the lining of birds’ nests.”

It made me wonder if the thorny plants in my life have benefits too, despite the mild suffering that comes from being pricked by their thorns. I’m reminded of Romans 5:3-5: “And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

This passage mystified me when I stumbled across it as a young adult digging deep into Scripture, for I was already naively hopeful and had suffered very little. I thought it strange that the Apostle Paul listed hope as the end result instead of the starting place.

Now, as a more seasoned believer who has had the wind taken out of her sails a few times, I understand. The “hope” I experienced as a young woman was really more like youthful optimism that cracked several times under pressure until it eventually shattered, revealed for the ingenuine thing that it was. It is as the Apostle Peter said in I Peter 1:6-7, “In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which perishes though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

In times of suffering, there are times when it has been difficult for me to face it with character or to persevere in it and continue to put one foot in front of another. But Paul was right–the most difficult thing by far is to hope. Peter tells us to count it all joy that we are able to share in the suffering of Christ. Easier said than done, certainly. But what joy it is that the end result of it all is that blessed and elusive thing–genuine hope. Even the thorny thistle has the most lovely, vibrant, purple bloom. As Emily Dickinson said, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.”