The Rest of the Wildflowers
by: Amanda Gorecki
July 7, 2026
“Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith!”
You have read many devotionals about surrender, rest, and trusting God's timing. I know — I have read plenty of them myself, usually skimming, usually with my mind already on the next thing. So let me tell you why this one might be different: I am the last person on earth who should be writing it.
I've been a worker my entire life. Even in middle school and high school, I held long babysitting jobs from sunup to sundown, and I worked two jobs through high school, college, and graduate school. At 29, I started my first business. I always had to push to get ahead, and in some sectors, work even harder just to prove myself. What I had to do to get ahead never stopped. I was always striving, always working. I remember holidays — Thanksgiving, Mother's Day — these were no longer holidays for me. They were days to get ahead in sales. Not only did I never look for opportunities to rest, I didn't know what rest looked like.
I did everything on my own strength. I mean everything.
I never took the Sabbath seriously. I went to church, but Sunday was my bonus day. It was the day I caught up on everything I hadn't gotten done during the week. I sat in church, but I never truly rested. If you have ever sat through a sermon making a mental to-do list, you know exactly what I mean.
Here is the part nobody warned me about: when I finally sold it — the largest and busiest of my companies, the one I'd carried for over twenty years and the one that nearly broke me — I thought I would immediately be stress-free. But I simply picked up new stresses, because I hadn't surrendered to God's provision. It took me multiple years to come down from the striving and the doing. Striving had become a habit my soul had memorized. Slowly, God began to show me the difference between doing work for excellence and doing work to please and perform. From the outside they can look identical. But one is done in dependence on my Heavenly Father, and the other is done with no dependence on Him at all. Only one of them leads to rest.
I am on my second pass of reading the Bible from start to finish in a year, and this time through, I decided to actually listen to God's instructions about the Sabbath. I began clearing my schedule and giving one day a week to Sabbath rest.
My first real Sabbath was not long ago. I sat outside on the porch of our little house on top of Lookout Mountain and went back through the Scripture passages I had flagged on busier days — the ones I had promised myself I would come back to and reread. I took time to pray through every person who came to mind. And all around me were wildflowers and flowers, some I had planted and beautifully positioned, and many growing up on their own, right through the rocks. I could not have staged a better picture of what God is teaching me.
I absolutely love this Sabbath day now. Real moments with my family. Longer stretches of prayer and stillness. And that looming feeling — I'm sure if I sit down with my laptop I can review more data or create another spreadsheet — is gone. I didn't realize how much it kept me stirred up until it wasn't there anymore.
When I read about Israel finally entering the Promised Land — when the land at last had rest — this is what stopped me: "Not one word of all the good promises that the LORD had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass" (Joshua 21:45). Rest came when the promises were kept. That is the God we rest in.
And resting in Him, I am learning, goes beyond clearing one day a week. There is another kind of rest He is teaching me — resting my need to know — and I'll be honest: this one is still hard for me. I have always been a fact-finder. I like to know everything, and I will get to the bottom of a situation — check the receipts, dig and dig until I figure it out. What I didn't realize was that I was doing this on my own strength too, instead of allowing God to bring to me what I should know or not know. But as I started waiting, I watched God bring me exactly what He wanted me to see or do, and the order fell into place on its own.
Deuteronomy 29:29 says, "The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law." God has been teaching me this very revelation: His hiddenness is a kindness. And that is no small lesson for a fact-finder like me. When He shows me something, it is a gift — and when He holds something back, He is not depriving me, He is protecting me. It's a mercy that I don't know everything, because not knowing keeps me walking in step with Him instead of running ahead of Him.
And He gives generously to those who walk with Him. He told Solomon, "I give you also what you have not asked, both riches and honor, so that no other king shall compare with you, all your days. And if you will walk in my ways, keeping my statutes and my commandments, as your father David walked, then I will lengthen your days" (1 Kings 3:13–14). We can strive all we want, but we will gain nothing without Him working on our behalf. He is always more than enough, and nearness to Him is the best thing we have. He has gently given us rest. He does not want us carrying life alone.
When I think of the greatest blessings in my life — the most precious friendships, the moments where it "just happened" — these are not things I created or made. They are God's opportunities.
This has even changed how I handle the hard things. Now, if a difficult situation comes up that my heart is grieving over, I take this as a prompt from the Holy Spirit that the situation is grieving Him, and I take it straight to God. I repent if I need to repent. I ask forgiveness from someone if that is what is needed. And then I let God work it out. I don't try to solve it. I rest in His provision and His working, knowing He is a God of justice. This is the freedom of being a daughter of the King.
Sometimes I am still tempted to get ahead — to know right now what it is God wants me to do next. I have to pause and wait, knowing He will give it to me when He is ready. And when He does, I have the freedom to go — which is exactly how He designed dependence on Him to be. "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" (Psalm 119:105).
There are two different Hebrew words sitting in that one verse. The first, ner, translated "lamp," is a small clay oil lamp — the kind you could hold in one hand, with a wick floating in olive oil, casting just enough glow to keep you from stumbling over the next rock. The second, or, translated "light," is the word for light itself — the very word God spoke in Genesis 1 when He said, "Let there be light." Daylight. So His Word is both: the great, blazing truth that floods the whole world, and the small, personal lamp showing me where to put my foot next. Whatever I'm facing, the light I need is already in His Word. We have everything we need.
Amanda and her daughter picking blueberries on a family trip.
Which brings me back to the wildflowers — the ones pushing up through the rocks outside my porch. Look how effortlessly they grow — freely and extravagantly. They do not fret or fear; even the tiniest flower and the moss clinging to the stone are cared for. They grow through rock and dirt, through beating sun and heavy rains. No landscapers tend them. No fertilizer makes them beautiful. No water on timers. They are vibrant, and they don't apologize for their splendor. They are not worried about what others think; they are fully themselves, and they don't wear out trying to fend for themselves. And they are loved by everyone who encounters them. God wants us to be free of care like the wildflowers. When we learn the posture of relying on our Heavenly Father, resting in His goodness, looking to Scripture to light our next step and our path, we experience rest and freedom. When we rest in His love, His radiance shines on us, and we can be like the wildflowers.
This does not mean I no longer work. It means my posture toward work and daily life has changed. And what a blessing it has been to hear my own children notice the change. The other night, my daughter, Ireland, told me she likes this era of mom, and Ocean spontaneously said, "My mom is healed. Jesus healed her — she's so free!" Freedom — the very thing God has been growing in me all along.
Oh, to be like a wildflower. Beautiful, surrendered, loved. Not demanding a certain season, but blooming in God's perfect timing. Relying on our Creator for sustenance, for everything we need to fulfill the purposes of God. Free to depend only on Him.
Scripture quotations are from the ESV unless otherwise noted.
Prayer
Father, thank You that not one of Your good promises fails. Forgive me for the years I carried everything in my own strength. Teach me to surrender, to rest, to wait for what You reveal, and to commune with You about everything. Your Word is the lamp for my next step and the light over my whole path. Nothing is better than being near You. Make me like the wildflower, free to depend only on You. Amen.
Worship: Flowers
Reflection
Where are you still striving in your own strength? What would it look like to clear one day this week and truly rest? Is there something you've been digging to figure out that God may be asking you to wait on instead?
Related Posts
You have read many devotionals about surrender, rest, and trusting God's timing. I know — I have read plenty of them myself, usually skimming, usually with my mind already on the next thing. So let me tell you why this one might be different: I am the last person on earth who should be writing it.