Choking Weeds: 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 windfall of money from a business investment. Following my father'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 nurturing those investments. But at some point, this task became choked with weeds. 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 weeds had sprouted and taken over, entangling my heart with thoughts of making the most 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 worship 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 limited how often I check stock prices. I invested 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 knocked back the weed of greed, giving my soul room to grow.

Uprooting the Worry Weed

We worriers feed life-sucking weeds by nurturing tomorrow's troubles. A mother might fret over her daughter's future: "My fourteen year-old is being courted by a boy who doesn't live in a Christian home. What if they become steadies? What if he pressures her to have sex? What if they are forced to get married? What if the marriage doesn’t last? My grandchild will grow up in a broken home!"

Jesus taught that a "today" focus will wilt our worries: "Do not worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." The soil of our lives has limited nutrients. The challenge forthe mother of this teenage girl is to channel the sap of her life into today's opportunities -- "What needs does my daughter have today? What book on dating could we read together? What could I share with her from my morning Bible study?” Annie Dillard calls "today", "time's live skin." Today is our only contact with alive time. It is the only time in which we can enjoy a friendship, commune with God, go for a walk, read a book with our child, plan for my family's needs. When we feed tomorrow's troubles, we choke today’s tasks.

Fighting weeds is exhausting. But late summer is not the time to ease up on our toughest and most persistent enemy--who is vigorously birthing thousands of seeds/soldiers
for next year's battles. Execute those worry weeds today and you will reap a harvest of peace tomorrow.
 

The Gardener's Challenge, Part 2

The Weed of Worry

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

Jesus understood the life-strangling characteristics of weeds and used them 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 . . . choke it, making it unfruitful. (Mt.13:22). The weed of worry was Jesus’ first concern.

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 lead 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?"
• "Do I measure the ministry on the basis of my growth? or the church's? or both?
• "Are my gifts best suited for a pastoral ministry?"    
• "Would the church be better off without me?"

Jesus instructed those choked by worry to observe the growth of wild flowers: I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. The valleys in the Black Hills of South Dakota are home to a stunning array of wild flowers—the creamy lilies, the sunny black-eyed susans, the shaggy bergamots. And these beauties shout  a lesson: 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, knowing that my heavenly Father was "much more" committed to turning my disheveled 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 tension in your marriage? 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. What a promise from our faithful Father!

The Gardener's Challenge: Weeds!

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 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:

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:
"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, and hardly anywhere else."

Where mankind rests, weeds rest. But wherever I plant 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 God’s revelation.

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 we don’t have to wage that war on our own. There is a Gardener who has his gloves on and a hoe in his hand, eager to help us attack those weeds! Will you invite Him into your garden?

 

Raising Champions

Here is the introduction and chapter three of my forthcoming book: Raising Champions: Helping Your Children Grow Through Sports.

Raising champions excerpt from Nathan Schock

Gardening the Soul: Final Thoughts on Watering

If I don't weed today, I can weed next week. If I don't prune my fruit trees in winter, I can prune them in the spring. If I don't add enough compost to my asparagus roots this year, I can do it next year. But if I don't water today, I may destroy my garden.

Watering is the most time-sensitive task in the garden—and in life. Isaiah warned: Therefore, as tongues of fire lick up straw and as dry grass sinks down in the flames, so their roots will decay, for they have rejected the Law of the Lord Almighty. (5:24). What causes people to torch their lives? When they reject or ignore the Scriptures.

In order to restore the native prairie grasses on our land, we had to burn away the years of an accumulated, eight-inch thatch. This was a dangerous task. I never burned in strong winds. I carefully laid out hoses so that I could control the burn (without melting my hoses!) I began with small burns around the perimeter. I burned against the wind. I maintained constant vigilance. I did all of this because I have witnessed the terrifying dash of fire through dry prairie grass. The grasses look like they have been hit by an incendiary bomb, shooting flames and smoke high into the sky. That's the image God wants me to hang onto—if I don't water my life regularly with the Law of the Lord, the roots of my life will erupt in flames.

David understood his need to drink:

earnestly I seek you;

my soul thirsts for you;
my body longs for you;
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water. (Ps.63)

I find David's intense words disturbing—and challenging. "Lord, remind me that only you can quench the longings in my soul. Don't let me become a regular drinker at any other wells. I want you and your Truth to be the passion of my life."

Gardening the Soul: Drinking and Dispersing

Sara Stein was astounded when she learned how water gets from the roots to the top of a forty-foot tree.

Water rises up a tree because water molecules evaporate at the surface of its leaves. As each molecule exits through a pore, it tugs the one behind, which pulls the next, and so on along a conga line of water molecules clinging to one another in single file from the end of the deepest root to the tip of the topmost leaf.

This life-sustaining process is threatened during a drought. If water becomes scarce, leaves close down their pores to minimize evaporation. If water remains sparse, the leaves curl to protect their surface from the drying winds. And if the drought persists, a plant may drop its leaves to conserve water for its trunk and roots.  

Like the plants, my spiritual life must balance its intake and output of water. I maintain this equilibrium most of the year with my leaf pores fully open. While transmitting water to others, I am refreshed by daily time with God.

But periodically the drought creeps in so I curl my leaves to boost my reserves. I reduce my teaching load. I cut back on meetings and appointments. I schedule  vacations. Our vacations emphasize physical exercise—hiking, swimming, biking; and spiritual exercise—reading, reflecting, worshiping. We want our vacations to replenish, not deplete, our reservoirs.

And finally in this battle against personal drought, I schedule a yearly retreat in which I drop all of my leaves and soak up as much water as I can. I take none of my writing or teaching projects, or my family—I don't want to focus on carrying water to others. I take my Bible, devotional books, and a journal. If I don't regularly water my life, I will become as barren as a desert.

When writer Kathleen Norris moved to the western South Dakota prairie she was surprised by what she discovered: "I've never thought of myself as an ascetic… But in acclimating myself to the bareness of the Plains after the cornucopia of New York City I found to my surprise that not only did I not lament the loss of urban stimulation, but I began to seek out even more deprivation than my isolated prairie town of 1,600 could provide."

As I have entered my seventh decade of life, I also have increased longings for quiet. At times these desires are healthy, finding delight in reading and writing and worshiping. At other times, I feel my age and want to wallow in mindless activities: televised sports, fluffy novels, internet socializing. But too much watering for any reason is dangerous. God designed us to disperse water to others.

During the 1950's our politicians authorized the building of several dams on the Missouri River as it flows through our state. The banks of the "Mighty Mo" were lined with towering, centuries-old cottonwoods that were partially submerged as the dams filled up. It wasn't long before they all died because a million molecules of flooded waters could replace every molecule of evaporated water. Today the erect stumps of those drowned trees bear testimony to the problem of too much water.

Our challenge is to blend drinking and dispersing, service and solitude—too little or too much water will destroy our fruitfulness. This mix will vary according to individual gifting and life's circumstances. (When we had young children in our home, the only dependable solitude took place from 2 A.M. to 3 A.M.!) But it is a balance we must work out with God's direction.