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!
2010/04/01
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."
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."
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