Gardening the Soul, Part 1

Drink Up!

Wall Drug Store in Wall, South Dakota has become a watering hole for many western family vacations. The store built its business by advertising free ice water to thirsty tourists. (Did other establishments charge for it?!) God has a similar offer:

 

Come, all you who are thirsty,

  come to the waters;
and you, who have no money,
  come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk,
  without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
  and your labor on what does not satisfy.
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
  and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me;
  hear me, that your soul may live. (Isaiah 55:1-3)

I am repeatedly invited to "come", to drink from these free waters. These waters expand into a banquet—the richest of fare. A number of years ago while living in Tampa we were invited to a lavish, end-of-year party at one of the city's country clubs. What a feast! There were bowls of fresh fruits—cantaloupe, strawberries, pineapple; freshly baked breads and muffins; bowls of diverse salads—a tangy potato salad, an exquisite crab salad; plates loaded with crisp, southern fried chicken; a rack of medium-rare prime rib; numerous vegetables: steamed broccoli, honey-glazed carrots. But the prize for my palate was the seafood: mounds of boiled shrimp, steamed crabs, even broiled lobster tails. As a guest it was all free, with only one limit—the size of my stomach!

But God calls us to come to an even more extravagant feast: eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. This “soul food” is eternally more delectable than that all-you-can-eat gourmet buffet. It alone will quench my deepest thirsts. 

Isaiah's invitation is sent to all you who are thirsty. Though all human seedlings are thirsty, not all recognize their thirst. A few years ago I was explaining the course requirements for Intro to the Bible class when one of the students asked: "Why do I need to study the Bible? I figure that on a scale of one to ten, I am about a six or a seven. Why do I need this book and this class?”  What a challenge! I was requiring these students to sacrifice their Saturday mornings, to read large sections of the Bible, to write a lengthy research paper. But if I couldn't explain the relevance of this work, I would have lost one student, and possibly, many more. I screamed a silent "Help!" toward heaven. God brought this answer to my mind: "During the early years of my marriage I thought I was a pretty good husband. If I had graded our marriage I would have given it about a "B"—that was averaging my "A" and Cathy's "C"! Each time we had a conflict, Cathy ended up tearfully confessing her faults. I graciously accepted her apologies and promised to pray for her! But during my second year in seminary, I enrolled in a course on family life. And as I was confronted with what the Bible taught about marriage, my prayers began to change. `Lord, I am the one who is most parched. Change me. Apart from regular drinks from God’s word I can be deceived. I may think I am a 6 or 7. But in reality I may be only a 2 or 3.

 

Gardening the Soul: Intro

Gardening on the northern plains has unique thrills. I suspect southerners don't experience the same euphoria that we polar gardeners do when spring arrives. The snow and the cold have imprisoned us for so long, that we become down right giddy when a shovel will slide into frost-free ground.

But the high doesn't last long. After spring's initial rush, we have to hunker down into the drab, daily grind of tending the garden through the long, languid summer. The problem with life is that it is so "daily"!

A couple of summers ago I stopped by a parking-lot greenhouse to select a few more annuals to fill out our garden. It was early Monday morning and dour-faced workers were scurrying around in a chaotic frenzy—whoever was responsible for the greenhouse over the blistering weekend, had failed to water the seedlings. There were thousands of stressed seedlings, sadly hanging their heads. The staff had begun the joyless task of throwing out tray after tray of scorched seedlings.

The life and productivity of every living plant is dependent upon water. Though newly sprouted seedlings and one hundred year-old oak trees have somewhat different needs, each would die without water. Knowing my plants' need for water and the uncertainty of timely rains in South Dakota, I spend considerable time analyzing the moisture in the soil, listening to weather reports, eyeing the sky, praying for rain, checking my rain gauge, and watering. During the growing season our yard is frequently criss-crossed with hoses. I recall only once asking God to halt excessive rains. He did—and it didn't rain measurably for the next three months. (A South Dakota native should know better!) For this plains’ gardener, a moderate, all-day rain is a great joy!

The ancient Israelites—who also lived in a rain-marginal land—understood the blessing of ample rain. And they used the watering of the land as a metaphor for God's watering of their lives:

 

Let my teaching fall like rain
    and my words descend like dew,
 like showers on new grass,
   like abundant rain on tender plants. (Deut.32:2)
   

When summer rain arrives after a dry period, the tender grasses and plants lap it greedily. Within hours they are greener, taller, livelier. It is the same for me. When I lap up God's “teaching” and his “words”, this tender plant shoots up as well.

Over the next several blogs I will explore the theme of how God waters our lives so that even if we live “in a sun-scorched land”, we “will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.”  Is.58:11