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!
2010/11/11
2010/10/28
Gardening the Soul: The Harvest, 2
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.
2010/10/15
Gardening the Soul: The Harvest, 1
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?
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?
2010/09/27
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!
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!
2010/09/06
Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden, 4
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)
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)
2010/08/22
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.
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.
2010/08/03
Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden,2
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!
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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