Gardening the Soul: The Harvest, 5

Measuring the Harvest

I coached my youngest son's traveling soccer team for seven years. Though the team had few elite athletes, their hard work had enabled them to compete with many elite teams. As we approached our very last tournament, I envisioned a storybook ending. The two best teams were in the other bracket and we were the best in our bracket. I dreamed about us playing in, and winning, the championship game. What a joyous harvest after all the years of disciplined work!

The first team we played had never beaten us. In the closing minute of the game, the referee (who was forty yards out of position) whistled us for a foul, awarding them a penalty kick—which they made. The referee clearly made the wrong call, enabling that team to tie us 1-1. I was very upset, yelling repeatedly : "That's the worst call I have ever seen!

In our second game, we opened strong, leading 2-0 at half. But questionable officiating and sloppy play led to a 3-2 loss. On one occasion, I angrily slammed my hat to the ground to protest a call. My fantasy of a championship had evaporated. During our final game we were clobbering the next best team in our division 4-0 at half. It was probably the best soccer the boys had ever played. I thought: "Well, at least we'll go out on a high note." But the second half was a complete disaster. We were badly out-played and were lucky to preserve a 4-4 tie. The game ended with a fistfight—a first for my team. As I went home that evening I was mostly disappointed in myself. Had my temper fueled their fists? The fruit in my life was sour that day.

Though I have been gardening for several decades, I still mess up. I might forget to water seedlings during a hot spell or overlook an insect invasion. Does this mean I should sell my hoe? No. I must look at my garden—and my life!—more panoramically. Before I worked myself into to funk over my coaching failure, I reflected on the past seven years. I had grown in my ability to love and lead young men, to control my volatile emotions, to trust God to give the boys the experiences they needed.

Christians often want a measure for their walk with God—the harvest provides that measure. My life is to be increasingly filled with the Spirit-grown fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, etc. When Paul wrote to the Thessalonians he commended them: "Now about brotherly love we do not need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other." But he urged them "to do so more and more." God looks for progress, not perfection.

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Harvest Math (cont.)

The multiplying principle (see previous post) applies in unwanted ways also. When Israel was running from God, Hosea warned: "Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind." (Hos.8:7). Hosea warned that if their lives were planted with the seed of wind, they would reap a tornado of trouble.

Many don't recognize their empty sowing until the whirlwind knocks them to the ground. As Solomon regularly traveled by a lazy neighbor's field, he observed that:

the ground was covered with weeds,
and the stone wall was in ruins.
I applied my heart to what I observed
and learned a lesson from what I saw;
A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest
and poverty will come on you like a bandit
and scarcity like an armed man. (Prov.24:32-34)

How did this lazy farmer get mugged by poverty? It happened so gradually—“a little...a little...a little"—that he never saw the bandit coming. When one stone fell from his stone wall, he thought, "I'll get to that tomorrow." When the second one fell out, he thought, "I'll put that one back when I repair the first one." When the third one fell out, he stopped making promises. His large problem (poverty) was built by small choices (not replacing fallen stones.)

Early in my Christian life I feared that I might be seized by temptation and take a major tumble. But Solomon reminds us that disasters are created little by little by little—we creep rather than leap into major sin. I might commit adultery after I harbor bitterness toward my wife, after I regularly flirt with a co-worker, after I bare my intimate thoughts to that other woman, after I choose to have a “business lunch” with her. The wall falls down a stone at a time. If I don't repair the small break-downs, I may experience a complete collapse.

But if Solomon's farmer repents of his slothful ways, can his wall be rebuilt? Maybe not. Several years ago Frank (not his real name) came to live with us after his wife booted him out of their home. One evening at dinner, I asked Frank to explain to my sons why he was staying in our home. As he talked, the pain and loneliness overcame him. Bowing his head and weeping, he cried: "My sin! My sin! I may never enjoy a family meal like this because I haven't been walking with God." Frank was right. His wife divorced him and the unity of his family was forever shattered. Though Frank's repentance helped him become a stable and godly influence for his kids (he twice followed them in moves to new cities), his wall could never be entirely rebuilt. We can control our choices, but not our consequences.

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Harvest Math

I sow one corn seed—I reap hundreds of corn seeds. I sow a packet of tiny lettuce seeds—I reap enough lettuce to feed my Sioux Falls relatives (and the Sioux Falls relatives of Peter Rabbit!) Similarly, a Flemish scientist planted a sapling willow tree in 200 pounds of soil. For the next five years he added only water to the soil. At the end of the experiment he weighed the tree (169 pounds) and the soil (199 pounds, 14 oz.). 2 ounces of soil had produced 169 pounds of tree!

Jesus could also take his disciples’ meager plantings and produce an astonishing crop—he fed 5000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish, and had 12 baskets of food leftover! (One for each of his “we-don’t-have-enough-to-feed-them” disciples?)

Over and over I have seen God produce the same geometric explosion in my students. If God wasn’t involved in my classes, my highest praise might be: "Nice class." Or, "A pleasant way to spend Saturday mornings." But one woman wrote: "My marriage has been hanging by a thread. This course came at such a crucial time. It gave me the strength to hang on to this marriage by looking to His word. I have found verses that spoke to me, giving me direction when I felt lost." And was this a marriage and family class? No. It was Introduction to the Bible! When God wants to transform a life he isn't limited by the syllabus! Another student who was "quite nervous" about his lack of Biblical knowledge, wrote: "I had never attempted to read and truly understand the Bible. Yet, after diving heart first into it, I found that what I had feared was not to be found. Not only did I comprehend the readings, but more importantly, I was able to apply the con-cepts in my life. This is so amazing to me! Something that was written thousands of years ago remains so true to life today. I feel as if there is a whole new world to discover." And many of these students quickly become seed-planters: "I must find a church and get my children involved in Sunday School. I would even like to be a Sunday School teacher! (Boy, I never thought I'd say that!) I have read some Bible verses to my family and I find that it is a wonderful feeling to spread God's word."

When Paul found people taking sides between him and Apollos, he asked: "What after all is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe . . . I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. (I Cor.3:5-7) The marvel of my students’ growth has little to do with the small seeds that I plant. It is humbling, and often exhilarating, to watch God multiply my 2 ounces of effort into 169 pounds of heavenly fruit. I love God's math!

What small seeds is God asking you to plant? Take a risk! Watch the all-powerful Mathematician work His wonders!

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The Delayed Harvest

One of the surest principles of the harvest is its delay. I can't pick beans the day after I sow bean seeds. Newly planted asparagus roots won't produce a significant crop for two or three years. Our sapling oak trees will provide a canopy of shade for our great-grandchildren’s play!

It is the slow, steady growth of trees that most resembles God's work in us—Though the wicked spring up like grass, the righteous will flourish like a palm tree and will become oaks of righteousness. (Ps.92) One of the delightful oaks that has been growing in my life is the relationship that I enjoy with my three adult sons and their families. We share vacations and regular meals. We garden and golf together. We participate in Bible studies together.

But the growth of this splendid tree was painstakingly nurtured ring by ring and inch-by-inch:

Ring #1: Playing most of my golf with my young sons rather than my friends. (By the second hole they were hot and frustrated, ready to dash to the swimming pool.)
Ring #2: Working with my boys in a small lawn care business. (I could have earned more money and suffered less grief—“Dad, do we have to mow today? It's too hot!"—if I had worked on my own.)
Ring #3: Establishing my office at home. (I could have written several more books if I had located my office away from their frequent interruptions.)
Ring #4: Coaching my sons' athletic teams. (Doesn't everyone love a task that involves griping parents, incompetent referees, and rowdy children?!)
Ring #5: Vacationing as a family. (I would have preferred more romantic get-aways with my wife!)

Parenting makes remarkable demands but has few instant rewards. My boys didn't slap me on the back and say, "Wow! You're sure a great dad to give up your Saturday golf game to play golf with us." None of my golfing friends, who watched my handicap balloon to an eight from a two, said, "I think it's great to see a father put his kids first." So why did I persevere? Because I was confident that planting those God-directed seeds would one day produce a grand harvest.

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A Fruitful Life

My dad was an enthusiastic gardener—and his kids and grandkids were his co-gardeners. His half-acre garden was gloriously, phenomenally productive. From mid-summer to late fall, we harvested bags brimming with sweet peas, string beans and broccoli; gunny-sacks stuffed with sweet corn, squash and potatoes; thirty-pound fruit boxes spilling over with tomatoes, beets and carrots; a pickup jammed with pumpkins; and on and on. Though his seeds only filled a couple of shoeboxes, the produce could not be contained in a pickup--would a semi-trailer have been enough?!

Dad kept pace with most garden work--until the harvest. Every year—to the dismay of my depression-raised dad—a sizeable amount of produce went unharvested. One day as we were leaving the farm, hot and tired but with a carload of vegetables, dad whined: "When are you going to get back and pick the rest of those beans? They're getting old.” A bit peeved, I teased: "What was that you said? `Thanks for helping?'" Dad heartily agreed with Jesus: The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few!

Even Mom became frustrated with the abundance—she had the task of cleaning and storing them. Though I had never heard my mom cuss, one day after Dad unloaded another pile of produce, she protested, "Al, what am I going to do with all these damn vegetables?!" (Dad tried to solve the problem of abundance by buying two refrigerators for his garage and an extra refrigerator for each of his kids! But the problem wasn't solved until he discovered that our local soup kitchen would gladly take his excess produce.)

The harvest is one of the most tangible miracles in our world. Laura Simon explains: "You drop a seed in the dirt, water it, and wait for it to sprout. That's kind of magical, don't you think? I mean, here's a seed, a tiny fleck of matter, smaller, in some cases than the period that will end this sentence. But in-side its insignificant little carcass are the makings of a five-foot-tall delphinium, say, with flowers so twinkling blue they'll make you suck in your breath."

The average ratio of harvested seeds to planted seeds in Biblical Palestine was about 8-1. When Jesus asserted that a fertile heart could produce a hundred, sixty, or thirty times what was sown, he envisioned a lavish productivity that would stun even my garden-wise father. God's goal is to make your life brim with marvelous fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentle-ness, and self-control. But it won’t happen until you humbly invite Him to take charge of your whole garden. Will you do that?

Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden, 5

Removing the Roots

I recently toured a friend's garden that she inherited when she bought the house of an avid gardener. My friend was enchanted by the flowers that marched through her garden from spring to fall. Just days before my tour, she attacked the weeds that were gobbling her garden. In an hour, she had decapitated most of the weeds with a weed-eater. It looked great--temporarily. This neophyte gardener didn't know that most weeds grow lustily from any roots left in the ground. Getting the root is dirty work--that's why I have blackened fingernails all summer long!

The weeds in life must also be uprooted. Not long ago a former high school friend phoned me. Herb [not his true name] explained to me that at the height of an alcohol-induced argument with his father, he had bellowed: "And you bought me right-handed golf clubs when I was a kid!" What did Herb mean? Herb is left-handed. He views the purchase of those right-handed golf clubs as a symbol of his dad's careless concern: "If Dad had truly loved me, he would have bought me left-handed golf clubs." The author of Hebrews warned: See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many." (12:15). A bitter root has been tunneling and spreading in Herb's life for over forty years. It has stolen the nutrients he needed to grow into a healthy human being. It has choked his ability to experience God's love. He lives a lonely, alcohol-dependent life largely because he has not removed that poisonous root.

Which root is easier to remove -- a two-year old child's naughty insistence on throwing his food or a seventeen year-old's haughty refusal to help at home? If parents overlook this sprouting weed: "Oh, but isn't he cute?”, they won't think the mature weed is cute at all: "Just try to make me clean my room!" Now the parents have a lusty weed whose toxic roots have spread throughout this young rebel's life, causing him to be expelled from school, arrested for underage drinking, and kicked off his soccer team. So many mature weeds are growing in the soil of his life that they won't be uprooted without blistered hands. If we wait until the neighbors can see the weeds in our garden, we have greatly inflated our task!

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Is That a Weed?

Weeding is tricky because weeds mimic good plants. Biblical weeds--"tares" in older versions of the Bible--were probably a ryegrass known as darnel. Seedling darnel is almost impossible to distinguish from seedling wheat. Once established, these weeds are nearly intractable. Even sieving the grain to remove their seeds is ineffective because they are the same size as the wheat seeds. Thus, these bitter seeds are milled with the wheat seeds, creating bitter bread.

Life’s weeds also mimic healthy growth. For example, we should nurture our bodies with nutritious food, regular rest, consistent exercise. But a legitimate concern for our health can become a greedy, nutrient-grabbing weed, which suffocates our search for life: "Our efforts at physical perfection offer us tangible solutions to fix what ails us--the newest gym, the latest diet, hip fashions, a nip or tuck here or there. These cures require effort, energy, and money, but actually enable us to avoid the tedious and scary prospect of searching inward. They make us feel alive, but keep us from looking into the recesses of our soul."

As the weed of physical perfection matures, we deceive ourselves by calling it "discipline" or "keeping a trim figure" or "staying in shape." But the bitter seeds remain: "We may look better and be healthier than ever, but continue to feel just as awful."

This past spring I planted a packet of coneflower seeds in my garden. Nothing sprouted for several weeks. Was it bad seed? Finally a few green leaves poked through the soil. Were they weeds? I was on the verge of executing them but decided to let them grow. In another week, I joyously recognized about a dozen seedling coneflowers.

What is sprouting in our hearts? Is it the worship of physical health or the desire to care for our God-given bodies? Since our capacity for self-deception is immense, we must humbly ask God to see with his eyes:

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. (Ps.139)

Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden,3

"The Weed of Greed"

Jesus also said that the weed of greed (the deceitfulness of wealth) would strangle my garden. A number of years ago I received a modest amount of money from the sale of our family's business. Following my dad's model, I invested most of it in a diversity of stocks—depending on my father, an investment letter, and the Internet for financial advice. At first, I enjoyed the challenge of investing wisely. But at some point, this task became a choking weed. Each time I logged on to my computer I would scrutinize stock prices and news. I would get excited when my stocks went up --" Wow! I made $500 today"--and discouraged when they went down--"Why did he recommend that stock?!" And then I would churn with indecision: "Should I sell? Should I buy?”

Was it wrong for me to research and track my investments? Not at all. But at some point the weeds had taken over, entangling my heart with thoughts of making money. In the Old Testament economy God limited his people’s pursuit of financial gain. Work on the Sabbath was forbidden. Their yearly calendar included several weeks of religious festivals in Jerusalem. Every seventh year they grew no crops to rest the land (and themselves). Newlyweds were given a one-year honeymoon! Lenders charged no interest. And land titles reverted to the original owners on the Jubilee (every 50th year). Meditating on these policies, I was reminded that God cares more about the value of my soul than the value of my stocks. As a result, I shifted some money to investments that I don't need to watch regularly. I also limit how often I check stock prices. And I mostly invest in blue chip companies that don't soar or sink in a few hours of trading. Will I make less money? Possibly. Will I have money to live securely in retirement? Only God knows. But I do know that I have regained control of a weedy patch of my life.

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Choking Weeds

Michael Pollan began his gardening experience with Ralph Waldo Emerson's optimism that weeds are simply plants whose virtues we haven't discovered. (Did Emerson garden?!) Experience quickly shattered the romance. He found that once these malevolent weeds are rooted in the garden, they will have to be wrestled out before they will leave. And their passion is to throw raucous parties for their "seedy" friends, who also want to linger when the party is over. But it is certainly no party for the gardener.

It is no wonder, then, that Jesus used weeds as a picture of the adversaries of a Christian's growth: What was sown among the thorns is the man who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke it, making it unfruitful. (Mt.13:22). Weeds in the garden and in life share many life-strangling characteristics.

The Weed of Worry
I am a champion worrier whose skills have been honed through years of practice. Like Laura Simon, I can worry over the trivial as well as the eternal: “If there isn't an impending catastrophe that requires my concern, I will find an ordinary event, some more modest matter, to fret over and dwell on."

During my early thirties I led a small church. In my journals from those years, I sound like a fretful mother agonizing over her baby's health:

• "Are we going to make it?"
• "How important are numbers?"
• "Should we continue to meet in a home?"
• "Do I measure the ministry on the basis of my growing maturity? or the church's? or both?
• "Are my gifts best suited for a pastoral ministry?"
• "Would the church be better off without me?"
• "Should I go back to school to earn my doctorate so I can teach at a college or seminary?"

Jesus instructed those choked by worry to observe the growth of wild flowers: They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. The valleys in the Black Hills of western South Dakota are home to a stunning abundance of wild flowers—the creamy lilies, the sunny black-eyed susans, and the shaggy bergamots. Such effortless splendor is breathtaking.

Jesus had a stinging question for us faithless worriers: If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? The wild grasses live for a season. We will live forever. Isn't God much more committed to beautifying his eternal creatures? When it came to worries about my professional life, I didn't know the future. But as I learned to trust the flowering of my life to the Gardener's hands, I relaxed. I knew that my heavenly Father was much more committed to turning my shabby garden into a creation of greater beauty than the mountain meadows.

What worries are choking your life? Do you worry about losing your job? about the safety of your child? about your retirement income? about potential severe weather? Jesus challenges us: Do not worry, saying “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” ... Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness—and all these things will be added onto you. If we direct our time and energy and thoughts toward pursuing God, He will take care of the rest!

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The Curse of Weeds

Weeding is my most demanding garden chore. It consumes nearly half of my time in spring and early summer. The drudgery of weeding is probably the #1 reason inexperienced gardeners never graduate and become experienced gardeners! Without an ongoing attack on this powerful opponent, my garden beds would be quickly devoured by a horde of ravenous weeds. Genesis explains why weeds are such a robust foe for gardeners:

Cursed is the ground because of you;
through painful toil you will eat of it
all the days of your life.
It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
and you will eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your brow
you will eat your food
until you return to the ground. (Gen.3:17-19)

After Adam and Eve’s rebellion, no garden yielded its bounty without painful toil and the sweat of your brow. Thorns and thistles perennially contest our work in the garden.

But if weeds are so vigorous, why haven't they covered the planet? Why were there few weeds when the Puritans landed in New England? Why don’t I see more weeds on my hikes in the Black Hills? Michael Pollan explains that weeds: are plants particularly well adapted to man-made places. They don't grow in forests or prairies—in "the wild." Weeds thrive in gardens, meadows, lawns, vacant lots, railroad sidings, hard by dumpsters and in the cracks of sidewalks. They grow where we live, in other words, and hardly anywhere else.

Where mankind rests, weeds rest. But wherever I plunge my spade, weeds rush to challenge my claim. (Where do they come from?!) Like a child who has no interest in a toy until his sibling picks it up, weeds jealously contest my interest in the soil. Weeds are man's, not nature's, curse. When people ask me why I believe the Bible is a revelation from God, one of my answers is: “Weeds.” Weeds confirm the truth of Genesis.

Weeds are part of God’s overall judgment on us rebels. In addition to weeds, life is filled with cancer and canker sores, tornadoes and tomato worms, asps and AIDS, calamity and cavities, aging and arguing, famine and fat, ad infinitum.” Why did God do this? If He had left us in Eden, how would we have recognized our need for Him? A few years ago when a friend of my brother’s was experiencing hard times, he complained: “I thought God wouldn’t give me more than I can handle.” My brother wisely disagreed: “I find that God frequently does give me more than I can handle—that way I am forced to depend on Him.”

The weeds of life will never go away. But the great news is that I don’t have to wage that war on my own. There is a Gardener who has His gloves on and a hoe in His hand, eager to help me attack those weeds! Will you invite Him into your garden?

The Father Waters His Garden, 3

“Yoked to God”

Jeremiah charged that God’s people were in rebellion: Long ago you broke off your yoke and said, `I will not serve you!’ This yoke—a crossbeam placed on the shoulders of an ox with a loop of rope for its neck—allowed a farmer to harness and direct the power of the animal. God’s people had thrown off their yoke, unwilling to submit to His guidance.

Before his conversion, C.S. Lewis was disturbed by a gospel which proclaimed a “Transcendental Interferer.” He explained: “If true, [I] knew there was no region even in the innermost depth of one's soul which one could surround with a barbed wire fence and guard with a notice of: “No Admittance.” I wanted some place, however small, of which I could say to all other beings, "This is my business and mine only."

But is God's guidance an “interference”? Jesus promised rest to the weary: Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, ... and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Mt.11:28-30) Often a farmer would train an inexperienced animal by yoking it to an experienced one. We who are weary and burdened are invited to place our necks in Jesus’ easy and light yoke, allowing him to gently lead our parched souls to his Refreshing Waters.

The board of directors of my ministry and I began praying for the founding of a Biblically-based counseling center in our city. After several years, we discovered a nearby counseling service that was committed to a Biblical model. During the next two years the head of that ministry visited Sioux Falls to counsel and teach a counseling class. That second year, I taught part of the class with him.

Our group was still unsure how the ministry would begin, but during that second year’s class, one of the participants heard God’s call to this ministry. As events unfolded over the following months, I envisioned that this man with his counseling gifts, and I, with my teaching gifts, would join together to help people become whole in Christ. It seemed a natural, Spirit-led fit.

But before the match was made, it began to unravel. First, this man was warned by an acquaintance: "Watch out for Bernie. He has to control things." Then the counselor who was helping us establish the ministry, came to believe similarly. (Though he later discovered he had misjudged circumstances.) Then a team of men from other biblical counseling centers was invited to Sioux Falls to help us finalize our plans. They strongly advised this man to form his own board and cut any formal ties with my board and me.

As we discussed, debated, and prayed over the next few weeks it became increasingly clear that this new ministry would form its own board. During this time we polled the counseling class—70% said they would not attend if I alone taught the class. When over 90% of my college students rate me an "Excellent" professor, I didn't need to hear an angel’s voice to discern God's leading! I had invested a great deal of prayer and energy to this vision. And it would be a reality—only it would not include me. Even though I was saddened and felt mildly betrayed, this was not a crushing experience. Knowing I am yoked to a vision-directing God, I didn't have to manipulate people or circumstances to fit my vision. A few years later, while serving on the board of this counseling ministry, the director told me that he wished the ministry had been organized the way I had envisioned it. I believe God prevented those involved from adopting that perspective because God wanted my life to bud in a different direction.

When I am drinking from the "reservoir that gushes into eternity," I can peacefully accept whatever life brings. "Lord, I know that Life is not found in the pursuit of my will. So I willingly, joyously submit to the yoke of your will.”

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Counterfeit Waters

Gardens need water. Human seedlings need water. And Jesus is the only inexhaustible source of thirst-quenching water. He proclaimed: Whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life. (Jn.4:14).

Unfortunately, we spend most of our time drinking run-off cistern water (see previous post below). We hope that marrying Mr./Ms. Right or building a dream home or finding an intimate friend or starting a family or winning the approval of a parent or achieving professional awards or earning an advanced degree will satisfy our longings. But none of these—or even all of these!–will cause a life to bud and flourish.

Today’s most frequently visited cistern may be financial prosperity. Western attitudes toward money have become all consuming (pun intended!). "Over time our relationship with money—earning it, spending it, investing it, owing it, protecting it, worrying about it—has taken over the major part of our lives." What are the returns from our obsessive focus on money? Are those who earn more, happier than others? Survey after survey shows that once our basic needs are met, increasing our income does not significantly increase our happiness.

Why are we so foolish? Why did the woman that Jesus encountered at a well in Samaria relentlessly rush to marriage—a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth time—to slake her thirst? Why was the couple we met in the Bahamas still chasing travel when travel no longer satisfied? Why does a person set higher financial goals when earlier, achieved goals didn't satisfy?

Near winter's end, if I remove a bare branch from a fruit tree and place it in a vase of water, the branch blooms amazingly, gloriously, as it sucks up the water. But the glory is a lie. Soon the branch will shrivel and die. Only the sap from its tree can produce true fruit. Frequently a life that drinks cistern water will suddenly, splendidly flower. Don't young lovers blossom before our eyes? Can't a new job return bounce to a person's step? Isn’t it a thrill to buy a new house? But these counterfeit waters cannot produce fruit. Jesus explained: No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. (Jn.15:4) If I don't cling to Jesus, I will be like the branch that is thrown away and withers. And the longer I am severed from Christ, the more my fruitless soul shrivels. I become obsessed with the trivial—a sports team, my home, my appearance, my health, my retirement. Jesus alone pours the sap of God's life into my life, producing authentic fruit.

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The Living Water

Jeremiah was appalled that his people had abandoned the only dependable source of life:

My people have committed two sins;
They have forsaken me, the spring of living water,
and have dug their own cisterns,
broken cisterns that cannot hold water. (Jer.2:13)

Israel was (and is) a drought-prone land. As a result, cisterns were critical to people's survival. These dug out reservoirs were filled during the rainy season so that life-sustaining water would be available for people and plants during the six-month dry season.

Now suppose a land-owning Israelite had been blessed with a spring that gushed pure water for decades. However, he decided to ignore that spring and dig a cistern so he could drink parceled-out, stagnant rainwater instead. Furthermore, while digging the cistern, it formed a crack so that it always dried up during the summer drought. An incredulous Jeremiah explained that God's people had turned from the Living Water to unreliable, run-off rainwater. They had bartered the eternal, all-powerful God for non-gods.

As Cathy and I approached our 20th wedding anniversary, we received an unexpected gift of money that we used to finance a week of vacation to the Bahamas. It was our first trip to the sparkling, turquoise waters of the Caribbean. While it was icy winter in South Dakota, we joyously swam and snorkeled and talked and loved as we celebrated the our God-blessed life together. One day at lunch we met a couple who spent about half of every year traveling. They had been to more places than the Travel Channel: India, Japan, Brazil, Australia, Hong Kong, Alaska. As they described these exotic places, we noticed a lack of passion—their adventures apparently provided fewer thrills than the Swine flu! Had travel always been so uninspiring? I doubt it. Initially it seemed to quench their thirst. Slowly, though, the water was seeping from this cracked cistern. Eventually it provided no refreshment for their souls--only habit and the memory of past draughts kept them dipping in this waterless well.

Like every garden, every person must have a dependable source of water--something to make them come fully alive. This couple had invested their hopes in travel. But they had, as Jeremiah explained, pursued worthlessness, and things that do not profit. They were withering in a full-scale drought because they were drinking from damaged, dry cisterns. Cathy and I traveled to celebrate life. This couple traveled to find life.

Gardening the Soul: The Father Loves His Garden Unconditionally

I am baffled—I have two healthy-looking, ten year-old apricot trees that produce NO fruit. Israel’s Vinedresser was equally puzzled when his vineyard produced only sour grapes: What more could have been done for my vineyard than I have done for it? When I looked for good grapes, why did it yield only bad? (Is.5:4-8) Though God had labored long and hard, his vineyard reaped only rotten fruit. As a result, God would judge the nation, taking away its hedge and breaking down its walls.

But what was God's attitude toward his vanquished vineyard? The vineyard of the Lord is ... the garden of his delight. What?! Did I read this correctly? Surely the original Hebrew reads differently! How could this foul-fruited vineyard have been a delight to God? If I tore down my garden's fence, if I didn't weed or water for an entire year, I wouldn't call my garden a delight—I would call it a disaster! Contrary to every expectation or explanation, God's wasted nation remained the garden of his delight. How could this be?

When God’s people were corrupt during the preaching of Hosea, God promised to turn the land into a wasteland, overrun by briers and thorns. But this impending judgment caused God’s heart to churn:

How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I hand you over, O Israel?
My heart recoils within me;
my compassion grows warm and tender,
I will not execute my fierce anger,
nor will I again destroy Ephraim.
for I am God and not man,
the Holy One in your midst,
and I will not come to destroy. (Hos.11:8f, RSV)

God's heart writhed in agony for his deeply loved, though deeply defiant nation—my heart recoils within me. He repeatedly wailed: How can I? . . . How can I? He relented, moderating the punishment—I will not execute my fierce anger.

How is it that God's love can be spurned again and again and again and not die? Several years ago my friend Jon was married to a woman who strayed into another man’s arms. We prayed for many months that God would turn her heart back to her husband. Sadly, God’s answer appeared to be "No” when she asked for a divorce. One day as the divorce neared, I received a phone call from Jon. He made a startling announcement—his wife had confessed her sin and wanted to rebuild their broken marriage. I exploded: "Praise God!" But Jon was silent. I asked: "What's wrong?" Jon answered: "I don't want her anymore." My friend's love and hope had died. The countless rejections had slowly leached the love from his heart. (Though with God’s help, Jon was able to regenerate that love and resurrect his marriage.)

But God's love does not wilt in a drought. Why didn’t God dump these rebels who clung to their sin? For I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst. When our love is repeatedly repulsed, it eventually dies. Not so with the Holy One. He is right there in your midst. God doesn't abandon us when we sin—he camps in the middle of the blood, sweat, and tears of our sin, still calling us the garden of his delight. He is able to do this because his love is not spawned or sustained by the garden’s condition. God loves because it is his nature to love. He can do nothing else.

Gardening the Soul: The Master Gardener, Part 2

A Transforming Love


Finding grape vines, heavy with clumps of sweet, juicy fruit would be an indescribable joy for a weary desert traveler. This is the way God felt when he reclaimed his people from Egypt: When I found Israel, it was like finding grapes in the desert. But God wasn’t content to leave this vine in the desert:

You brought a vine out of Egypt;
you drove out the nations and planted it.
You cleared the ground for it,
and it took root and filled the land.
The mountains were covered with its shade,
the mighty cedars with its branches.
It sent out its boughs to the sea,
its shoots as far as the River. (Ps.80:8-11)

What a task! God had placed his tender nation in the sheltering soil of Egypt 400 years earlier. But now its roots had been tunneling and intertwining with the economic roots of Egypt for so long, that the Pharaoh thought he owned the vine and clung tenaciously to it. But God was resolved—the grip of Egypt was not strong enough to resist His uprooting power. Eventually the Pharaoh relinquished his slaves.

God then potted this fragile vine in his nurturing arms, bearing it through the desert to its new home. After he cleared the ground by driving out the host nations, he planted his vine in the welcoming soil of Canaan. The transplant was a smashing success: it took root and filled the land, covering the mountains with its shade.

The Great Gardener's goal has always been to transplant his seedlings into the fertile soil of his garden where they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon. (Ps.92:12) These cedars of Lebanon are the sequoias of the Middle East. They tower to a height of over one hundred feet and span forty feet or more. God's persistent desire is to produce lives which mirror the strength, durability, and beauty of those giant evergreens.

Two summers ago I brought home a discarded pack of seedling broccoli plants—as my wife knows, I am a sucker for anything marked "Free"! They were root-bound sticks with only two or three small, dusty-green leaves at the top of each plant. I had a vacant spot in my garden so I tossed them in the ground. I didn't pay much attention to them but did notice that once established, they began to fill out. By October I was stunned by a harvest of ten or twelve very large, dense, blue-green heads of broccoli.

As we enjoyed that astounding harvest, those plants reminded me of Paul's words to the Corinthians: God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. (1:27-29) God delights in selecting nursery rejects—the weak, the lowly, the despised, and transforming them into monuments to his grace—the cedars of Lebanon. You may fear that you are too insignificant or have snubbed God's call for too long or have made too many immoral choices. But God delights in transforming your frail, fruitless life into a fruitful marvel. Give The Master Gardener a chance—He is very experienced!

Gardening the Soul: The Father Loves His Garden, Part 2

Jesus’ parable about the landowner who paid workers the same wage for varying amounts of work (see previous post), teaches us that God treats the seedlings in his garden fairly but individually.

My three boys learned that God doesn't treat his children uniformly through a college trust fund generously established by their grandparents. Since the assets were invested in an expanding stock market (remember the 80’s & 90’s?!), the longer the money remained invested, the more it grew. Thus, there was a distinct advantage to the younger boys as their funds grew while the eldest was paying for his education. By the time our third son entered college he had twice as much money in his trust fund as his eldest brother had when he began college—and then he received a tuition-free scholarship!

Some children are blessed with grandparents who treasure their grandchildren. Others endure self-absorbed grandparents. Some are born into wealthy homes. Others grow up in poverty. When we observe these disparities, we are tempted to covet others' blessings: A higher salary. Healthier children. An available father. A close friend. An effective pastor. A vacation home. A beautiful body. A spouse. A milder climate. Etc. Etc. Etc.

This parable teaches that the Gardener will treat each of us fairly, but distinctly: Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous? God plants each seedling in a dizzying diversity of environments to accomplish a unity of purpose—fruitfulness. Did the all-day workers understand why the short-day workers were shown such generosity? No. Did I know why God wouldn't provide a mentor for me? No. Did the Bible’s Jacob understand why he was staring at the face of Leah, and not the promised Rachel, on the first morning of his marriage? No. God's workings are often mystifying:

As you do not know the path of the wind,
or how the body is formed in a mother's womb,
so you cannot understand the work of God,
the Maker of all things. (Eccl.11:5)

My job is not to understand God's work, but to trust it. God has a marvelous plan for my life. This isn't a generic, one-size- fits-all plan. It probably won't be what I want or expect. But I know it will include all the nutrients I need to grow to full fruitfulness. "Lord, help me trust your specific, gracious—though sometimes confusing—cultivation of my life."

Gardening the Soul: The Father Loves His Garden

An Individualized Love

I remember two messages from four years of daily chapel as a seminary student. (This probably reflects more on the listener than on the speakers!) Both messages energized my sputtering spiritual life. One of them was based on Jesus' puzzling parable in Matthew 20 where he likens the kingdom of heaven to a landowner who hires groups of unemployed men--at the 3rd, 6th, 9th, and 11th hour of a 12-hour workday--to work in his vineyard. Only the first group had a specified agreement--he would pay them a denarius for the day's work.

When the workday ended, the crews came to be paid in the reverse order of their hiring. The first group, who had worked only one hour, watched in amazement as a full day's pay was placed into their barely soiled hands. They joyously skipped home with their windfall—now able to feed their families for another day. As the owner called each group forward to receive its pay, it became increasingly clear that each would receive the same amount. By the time the last group was paid—they were the only group not paid more than they deserved—one of them erupted in angry protest: These men who were hired last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day. This weary, sweat-stained worker was outraged that he was paid the same wage as the 1-hour workers.

But note, again, the introduction to this strange parable: The kingdom of God is like a landowner . . . This is what the kingdom of God is like?! Does God ignore effort or merit? Suppose your daughter needs spending money for church camp so you agree to pay her $20 to work all day helping around the house—vacuuming, scrubbing, mopping, laundering. Then your son—who spent the day hanging out with his friends—returns just before dinner and you ask him to help you set the table. After the meal you thank your kids for their work and reward each with a twenty-dollar bill. How would your daughter feel? Just like the all-day vineyard workers—incensed! So how can this loony landowner reflect the values of the kingdom? Does God treat people unfairly?

The landowner firmly denied being unfair: Friend, didn't you agree to work for a denarius? The worker's silence was an admission that the agreement had not been broken. So why did he grumble? The owner pinpointed the problem: Are you envious because I am generous? This worker envied the owner’s generous treatment of the other workers.

I had enrolled in seminary, in part, because I was looking for a mentor. I struggled to build a relationship with my professors, but was rebuffed by their busyness. I wanted someone I could drop in to chat with—not someone whose secretary made appointments for next month. I wanted someone to talk with about my faults and my future. And though I failed, a few privileged students developed bonds with our professors. As a result, I became jealous of their success and dejected by my failure—"What's wrong with me?" Into this heartache the Vineyard Owner dropped these piercing words: Friend, I am not being unfair to you. . . . Or are you envious because I am generous? God assured me that he would be fair to me. He would create the environment that this seedling needed to grow to maturity. And because he promised to nurture me, I could rejoice in his generosity to my friends.

The plant world is full of unique plants which require unique conditions -- cacti thrive in the desert; water lilies love -- guess what? – water; lettuce relishes cool weather; melons won't grow if it isn't summer-hot. But it isn't just plants that require varying conditions. This parable teaches that God designs special environments for each of his human seedlings also. Thank God he doesn’t treat us the same. He provides the exact conditions that we need to become abundantly fruitful.

Gardening the Soul: The Master Gardener

God is described as the Master Gardener of our lives. Listen to him sing about his garden:

Sing about a fruitful vineyard: I, the Lord, watch over it; I water it continually. I guard it day and night
so that no one may harm it. . .
If only there were briers and thorns confronting me!
I would march out against them in battle.
I would set them all on fire.
In days to come Jacob will take root,
Israel will bud and blossom
and fill all the world with fruit. (Is.27:2-6)

While God glories in a harvest that will "fill all the world with fruit," (v.6) he also revels in the dirty, daily task of nurturing his garden—“I, the Lord, watch over it; I water it continually. I guard it day and night." (v.2,3) God isn't an apathetic gardener who tosses a few seeds on the ground and hopes that something grows. Nor is he an aristocratic gardener who hires other workers to do his grubby chores. God plants and prunes and protects with his own calloused hands.

As a gardener, I am vexed by the agents of destruction that assault my garden—weeds, wind, worms. But God agonizes over a lack of adversaries! He moans like a war hero during peacetime: "If only there were briers and thorns confronting me. I would march out against them in battle, I would set them all on fire." (v.4). Amazing! We serve a God who aches to attack our foes. All we have to do is ask.

In the next few blogs I will focus on the shape of the Gardener’s work in His garden: What are his ways of watering? his patterns in planting? his hopes for a harvest? We must understand how God works—if he is planning a blizzard, but we are expecting warm sunshine, we can become dangerously disoriented in one of life's storms. But when we understand how the Master Gardener is tilling our soils, then we can coordinate our work with his work to produce a fruitful life.

Gardening the Soul: Introduction

My love for gardening was nurtured by my land-loving father. He taught me the language of the soil -- crop yields, soil moisture, weed control, weather forecasts. Having grown up on a farm during the drought-plagued 1930’s, he was thrilled by prospects of rain. He often drove my siblings and me to a hill overlooking the city to watch evening thunderstorms rumble in from the west. It was exhilarating, though sometimes frightening, to watch these powerful storms. Later, snuggled in the safety of my bed, I would contentedly drift to sleep to the patter of rain on a tin awning. My father also launched my first major gardening experience. When I was in sixth grade, he helped me and three friends grow two acres of sweet corn that we sold door-to-door. I was hooked -- if God hadn't given me other gifts and callings, I could have joyously earned a living from the soil.

Even today, my youthful infatuation with the land hasn't faded. I spend an hour or two most days from April to November in my garden. During the winters I study gardening books and catalogs, planning for and dreaming about the twenty acres of prairie that my wife and I own. We are cultivating fruit and shade trees, flowers and vegetables. We are restoring the native grasses and wildflowers that once graced our land.

One of the unexpected rewards of gardening has been an illumination of Biblical truth. The Bible was written to an "earthy" people. Its illustrations, metaphors and parables assume an intimate knowledge of the soil -- a knowledge few moderns possess. When Jeremiah claimed that God’s people were depending on broken cisterns or when Hosea pleaded with his people to break up the unploughed ground, these images leave many of us in the dark. Part of the Bible is still untranslated -- land language is a dying tongue.

When God reveals himself to us, he uses the known as a bridge to the unknown. But what happens when common knowledge is not so common? When the Bible compares God to a vine or a vine dresser, modern seekers are left with the unfamiliar (God) being illuminated by the unfamiliar (the vineyard.) We are as lost as a first century student would be with a computer metaphor like "programming our minds."

Though I still consider myself a "kinder-gardener" of the soil and the soul, these blogs will try to help non-gardeners decode the garden images that fill the Bible. Come. Pull on your work gloves. Pick up your spade. Join me in digging into God's eternal truths.

“Wall-to-Wall Parenting”: Part 4

"Give Them Space"

We often become over-involved in our kids’ lives because we feel responsible for constructing our children’s future, “one two-by-four at a time.” So, “to prevent even the tiniest mishap, we believe we should act as stage managers responsible for all production details: casting, costumes, scenery, music, script changes, and making sure no one ever misses a cue or flubs a line. And boy, does that keep us busy!”

It is our fear that drives much of our over-parenting—our fear that our children might stumble. We think it is our calling to keep our children blissful and successful. But as Dr. Alvin Rosenfeld has written, we have forgotten that both joy and sorrow are natural parts of everyone’s life: As the expression goes, into every life some rain must fall. Close friends spend wonderful sleepovers together; sometimes they fight. Sometimes they make up; other times they remain lifelong enemies. Some nights you have wonderful dreams; on others you have nightmares. Arms get broken; walls gets scaled. Challenges are overcome; life defeats you temporarily. Santa gets you just what you want; Santa gets it all wrong. Toys give great pleasure; sometimes a treasured one breaks. Pets run away and get run over. [Some dogs] have wonderful poppies that friends want for their own; some have pup-pies no one else wants so you have to take them to the pound. The new school is great and you make friends even though you miss the old ones; the new school that you thought was going to be terrific actually is terrible; teachers can be wonderful, inspiring; teachers can be unfair; some teachers simply ought to find an-other line of work.

Parents can not and should not protect their children from every painful experience. Our “compulsion to have our fingers in every mud pie our children make” is not healthy for our kids. Though they occasionally need our coaching, eventually they must develop the drive, the discipline, and the skills to depend on God, rather than us, to solve their problems. When they have a problem with a friend or a coach or their health, encourage them to turn to God first--He is certainly a better counselor than we are!

As I conclude this series on the over-involved parent, remember: You will find it easier to determine the limits of your job as a parent, when you put God at the center of your family life. What is your primary focus—your relationship with God or your relationship with your children?If we build our lives around our children, they will grow up self-obsessed rather than God- and other-obsessed. And what will we do when they are gone? We joke about the empty-nest syndrome but part of it caused by our over-commitment to our kids.