Counterfeit Waters
Gardens need water. Human seedlings need water. And Jesus is the only inexhaustible source of thirst-quenching water. He proclaimed: Whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life. (Jn.4:14).
Unfortunately, we spend most of our time drinking run-off cistern water (see previous post below). We hope that marrying Mr./Ms. Right or building a dream home or finding an intimate friend or starting a family or winning the approval of a parent or achieving professional awards or earning an advanced degree will satisfy our longings. But none of these—or even all of these!–will cause a life to bud and flourish.
Today’s most frequently visited cistern may be financial prosperity. Western attitudes toward money have become all consuming (pun intended!). "Over time our relationship with money—earning it, spending it, investing it, owing it, protecting it, worrying about it—has taken over the major part of our lives." What are the returns from our obsessive focus on money? Are those who earn more, happier than others? Survey after survey shows that once our basic needs are met, increasing our income does not significantly increase our happiness.
Why are we so foolish? Why did the woman that Jesus encountered at a well in Samaria relentlessly rush to marriage—a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth time—to slake her thirst? Why was the couple we met in the Bahamas still chasing travel when travel no longer satisfied? Why does a person set higher financial goals when earlier, achieved goals didn't satisfy?
Near winter's end, if I remove a bare branch from a fruit tree and place it in a vase of water, the branch blooms amazingly, gloriously, as it sucks up the water. But the glory is a lie. Soon the branch will shrivel and die. Only the sap from its tree can produce true fruit. Frequently a life that drinks cistern water will suddenly, splendidly flower. Don't young lovers blossom before our eyes? Can't a new job return bounce to a person's step? Isn’t it a thrill to buy a new house? But these counterfeit waters cannot produce fruit. Jesus explained: No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. (Jn.15:4) If I don't cling to Jesus, I will be like the branch that is thrown away and withers. And the longer I am severed from Christ, the more my fruitless soul shrivels. I become obsessed with the trivial—a sports team, my home, my appearance, my health, my retirement. Jesus alone pours the sap of God's life into my life, producing authentic fruit.
2010/05/19
Gardening the Soul: The Father Waters His Garden, 1
The Living Water
Jeremiah was appalled that his people had abandoned the only dependable source of life:
My people have committed two sins;
They have forsaken me, the spring of living water,
and have dug their own cisterns,
broken cisterns that cannot hold water. (Jer.2:13)
Israel was (and is) a drought-prone land. As a result, cisterns were critical to people's survival. These dug out reservoirs were filled during the rainy season so that life-sustaining water would be available for people and plants during the six-month dry season.
Now suppose a land-owning Israelite had been blessed with a spring that gushed pure water for decades. However, he decided to ignore that spring and dig a cistern so he could drink parceled-out, stagnant rainwater instead. Furthermore, while digging the cistern, it formed a crack so that it always dried up during the summer drought. An incredulous Jeremiah explained that God's people had turned from the Living Water to unreliable, run-off rainwater. They had bartered the eternal, all-powerful God for non-gods.
As Cathy and I approached our 20th wedding anniversary, we received an unexpected gift of money that we used to finance a week of vacation to the Bahamas. It was our first trip to the sparkling, turquoise waters of the Caribbean. While it was icy winter in South Dakota, we joyously swam and snorkeled and talked and loved as we celebrated the our God-blessed life together. One day at lunch we met a couple who spent about half of every year traveling. They had been to more places than the Travel Channel: India, Japan, Brazil, Australia, Hong Kong, Alaska. As they described these exotic places, we noticed a lack of passion—their adventures apparently provided fewer thrills than the Swine flu! Had travel always been so uninspiring? I doubt it. Initially it seemed to quench their thirst. Slowly, though, the water was seeping from this cracked cistern. Eventually it provided no refreshment for their souls--only habit and the memory of past draughts kept them dipping in this waterless well.
Like every garden, every person must have a dependable source of water--something to make them come fully alive. This couple had invested their hopes in travel. But they had, as Jeremiah explained, pursued worthlessness, and things that do not profit. They were withering in a full-scale drought because they were drinking from damaged, dry cisterns. Cathy and I traveled to celebrate life. This couple traveled to find life.
Jeremiah was appalled that his people had abandoned the only dependable source of life:
My people have committed two sins;
They have forsaken me, the spring of living water,
and have dug their own cisterns,
broken cisterns that cannot hold water. (Jer.2:13)
Israel was (and is) a drought-prone land. As a result, cisterns were critical to people's survival. These dug out reservoirs were filled during the rainy season so that life-sustaining water would be available for people and plants during the six-month dry season.
Now suppose a land-owning Israelite had been blessed with a spring that gushed pure water for decades. However, he decided to ignore that spring and dig a cistern so he could drink parceled-out, stagnant rainwater instead. Furthermore, while digging the cistern, it formed a crack so that it always dried up during the summer drought. An incredulous Jeremiah explained that God's people had turned from the Living Water to unreliable, run-off rainwater. They had bartered the eternal, all-powerful God for non-gods.
As Cathy and I approached our 20th wedding anniversary, we received an unexpected gift of money that we used to finance a week of vacation to the Bahamas. It was our first trip to the sparkling, turquoise waters of the Caribbean. While it was icy winter in South Dakota, we joyously swam and snorkeled and talked and loved as we celebrated the our God-blessed life together. One day at lunch we met a couple who spent about half of every year traveling. They had been to more places than the Travel Channel: India, Japan, Brazil, Australia, Hong Kong, Alaska. As they described these exotic places, we noticed a lack of passion—their adventures apparently provided fewer thrills than the Swine flu! Had travel always been so uninspiring? I doubt it. Initially it seemed to quench their thirst. Slowly, though, the water was seeping from this cracked cistern. Eventually it provided no refreshment for their souls--only habit and the memory of past draughts kept them dipping in this waterless well.
Like every garden, every person must have a dependable source of water--something to make them come fully alive. This couple had invested their hopes in travel. But they had, as Jeremiah explained, pursued worthlessness, and things that do not profit. They were withering in a full-scale drought because they were drinking from damaged, dry cisterns. Cathy and I traveled to celebrate life. This couple traveled to find life.
2010/05/06
Gardening the Soul: The Father Loves His Garden Unconditionally
I am baffled—I have two healthy-looking, ten year-old apricot trees that produce NO fruit. Israel’s Vinedresser was equally puzzled when his vineyard produced only sour grapes: What more could have been done for my vineyard than I have done for it? When I looked for good grapes, why did it yield only bad? (Is.5:4-8) Though God had labored long and hard, his vineyard reaped only rotten fruit. As a result, God would judge the nation, taking away its hedge and breaking down its walls.
But what was God's attitude toward his vanquished vineyard? The vineyard of the Lord is ... the garden of his delight. What?! Did I read this correctly? Surely the original Hebrew reads differently! How could this foul-fruited vineyard have been a delight to God? If I tore down my garden's fence, if I didn't weed or water for an entire year, I wouldn't call my garden a delight—I would call it a disaster! Contrary to every expectation or explanation, God's wasted nation remained the garden of his delight. How could this be?
When God’s people were corrupt during the preaching of Hosea, God promised to turn the land into a wasteland, overrun by briers and thorns. But this impending judgment caused God’s heart to churn:
How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I hand you over, O Israel?
My heart recoils within me;
my compassion grows warm and tender,
I will not execute my fierce anger,
nor will I again destroy Ephraim.
for I am God and not man,
the Holy One in your midst,
and I will not come to destroy. (Hos.11:8f, RSV)
God's heart writhed in agony for his deeply loved, though deeply defiant nation—my heart recoils within me. He repeatedly wailed: How can I? . . . How can I? He relented, moderating the punishment—I will not execute my fierce anger.
How is it that God's love can be spurned again and again and again and not die? Several years ago my friend Jon was married to a woman who strayed into another man’s arms. We prayed for many months that God would turn her heart back to her husband. Sadly, God’s answer appeared to be "No” when she asked for a divorce. One day as the divorce neared, I received a phone call from Jon. He made a startling announcement—his wife had confessed her sin and wanted to rebuild their broken marriage. I exploded: "Praise God!" But Jon was silent. I asked: "What's wrong?" Jon answered: "I don't want her anymore." My friend's love and hope had died. The countless rejections had slowly leached the love from his heart. (Though with God’s help, Jon was able to regenerate that love and resurrect his marriage.)
But God's love does not wilt in a drought. Why didn’t God dump these rebels who clung to their sin? For I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst. When our love is repeatedly repulsed, it eventually dies. Not so with the Holy One. He is right there in your midst. God doesn't abandon us when we sin—he camps in the middle of the blood, sweat, and tears of our sin, still calling us the garden of his delight. He is able to do this because his love is not spawned or sustained by the garden’s condition. God loves because it is his nature to love. He can do nothing else.
But what was God's attitude toward his vanquished vineyard? The vineyard of the Lord is ... the garden of his delight. What?! Did I read this correctly? Surely the original Hebrew reads differently! How could this foul-fruited vineyard have been a delight to God? If I tore down my garden's fence, if I didn't weed or water for an entire year, I wouldn't call my garden a delight—I would call it a disaster! Contrary to every expectation or explanation, God's wasted nation remained the garden of his delight. How could this be?
When God’s people were corrupt during the preaching of Hosea, God promised to turn the land into a wasteland, overrun by briers and thorns. But this impending judgment caused God’s heart to churn:
How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I hand you over, O Israel?
My heart recoils within me;
my compassion grows warm and tender,
I will not execute my fierce anger,
nor will I again destroy Ephraim.
for I am God and not man,
the Holy One in your midst,
and I will not come to destroy. (Hos.11:8f, RSV)
God's heart writhed in agony for his deeply loved, though deeply defiant nation—my heart recoils within me. He repeatedly wailed: How can I? . . . How can I? He relented, moderating the punishment—I will not execute my fierce anger.
How is it that God's love can be spurned again and again and again and not die? Several years ago my friend Jon was married to a woman who strayed into another man’s arms. We prayed for many months that God would turn her heart back to her husband. Sadly, God’s answer appeared to be "No” when she asked for a divorce. One day as the divorce neared, I received a phone call from Jon. He made a startling announcement—his wife had confessed her sin and wanted to rebuild their broken marriage. I exploded: "Praise God!" But Jon was silent. I asked: "What's wrong?" Jon answered: "I don't want her anymore." My friend's love and hope had died. The countless rejections had slowly leached the love from his heart. (Though with God’s help, Jon was able to regenerate that love and resurrect his marriage.)
But God's love does not wilt in a drought. Why didn’t God dump these rebels who clung to their sin? For I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst. When our love is repeatedly repulsed, it eventually dies. Not so with the Holy One. He is right there in your midst. God doesn't abandon us when we sin—he camps in the middle of the blood, sweat, and tears of our sin, still calling us the garden of his delight. He is able to do this because his love is not spawned or sustained by the garden’s condition. God loves because it is his nature to love. He can do nothing else.
2010/04/22
Gardening the Soul: The Master Gardener, Part 2
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!
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."
2010/03/16
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.
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.
2010/03/01
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
