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.