Showing posts with label Intermittent Gardener. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Intermittent Gardener. Show all posts

Friday, May 6, 2011

Little Deal, Big Deal

When I was about six years old, I found a tiny weed poking through the cracks of our sidewalk in a futile attempt to become a full-grown tree.  Due to my disproportionate interest in the doomed weed, my parents transplanted the small tree into a pot.  I named it Emerald.  (Yes, I named a tree.  We all have our less-than-flattering childhood moments, don't we?)  It was an evergreen tree, so the name "Emerald" fit very well.  Emerald stayed in a pot through two moves before we finally transplanted it to our backyard.  Today, if you look out our window, you will see an evergreen tree that is halfway in front of our gate.  Emerald has grown a lot.  What was once a weed in our sidewalk now blocks our gate.

A song by Rich Mullins speaks of how "stuff of earth competes for the allegiance I owe only to the Giver of all good things" (Mullins, "If I Stand").  Every time we give in to sin of any kind, be it pride, or laziness, or bitterness, we water and care for it, strengthening it.

Sometimes you don't even have to care for it, as I did for Emerald.  Some of our neighbors had a weed in their front yard.  It's now over fifteen feet tall.  No longer are they able to pull it out; they'd have to cut it down, leaving a stump to remind them of its presence.  When it first appeared, it would have been easy to pluck it out of the ground.  Instead of doing that, they ignored it; now they would have to spend hours of hard labor to get it out of their yard.

While it may sound ridiculous for our neighbors to have waited so long, things like this happen faster than you may think.  I remember hearing a story about Chuck Swindoll when he was the only member of his family at home.  He opened the freezer and found that there was a brand new half-gallon container of his favorite ice cream.  He decided to have some.  He ate a little bit.  And a little more.  And a little more.  Then he had just a little bit more.  Soon he realized that he had eaten the entire half-gallon of ice cream.  All of it, in that one sitting!  Before you know what's going on, one computer or video game turns into five, ten minutes turns into an hour, one bite of ice cream turns into a half gallon, and one little weed turns into a tree.  It happens in the blink of an eye.

There's nothing wrong with transplanting a weed or even naming it (although I admit that naming a tree is a little odd).  But what was once cute is now a nuisance, what was once inconsequential now affects anyone who tries to go through our gate.  It will take a lot more work to get rid of our bothersome tree than it would have at the beginning.  Similarly, it will take a lot more work to kick an ingrained habit than it would to end a habit just beginning.  Once we give in to our unhealthy desires, it often seems impossible to root them out.  But it is possible.  Even though a little deal has turned into a big deal, it is still possible, for "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible" (Matthew 19:26).

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Untended


Some of you may remember the difficulty I had last year with growing lettuce. Actually, growing it was the easy part; warding off hungry (and persevering!) rabbits was where I had some problems. This year, due to time restraints, this intermittent gardener decided to not even attempt growing lettuce - I knew I wouldn't have the time to mess with rabbits.

To tell you the truth, I really hadn't done any cultivating at all when I finally ventured out to survey the condition of the weedpit - I mean, garden. It was just as I expected. Tall weeds, short weeds, prickly weeks, leafy weeds, vine-like weeds - maybe even some weeds unique to our garden. But as I kept looking, I noticed one plant that didn't quite fit in with all the other weeds. As I observed a little more closely, I realized what it was. Lettuce. Now, I know that I did not plant any lettuce this year. None. But there it was right in front of me: one solitary, healthy head of lettuce, and I had not done any work for it. On top of that, the rabbits hadn’t even touched it.

We often don’t understand why God chooses to give us gifts. David questioned why the kingdom of Israel was given to him. On that note, why did God choose the Israelites at all? And what had the disciples done to make them worthy to be the privileged few who were the closest to Jesus during His time on earth? One thing we know for sure: God doesn't give us gifts because we deserve them. After all, King David committed sins that hurt many people. The Israelites were far from faithful to God – most of the Old Testament tells of their yo-yo commitment to God and His ways. The disciples were continually bickering, arguing, and losing focus of the big picture (if they ever really had it in sight). Think of Jonah when he was stewing about God's compassion toward Nineveh: despite Jonah's sour attitude, God made a plant grow quickly to shade Jonah from the scorching heat (Jonah 4:1-11). Jonah didn’t deserve God’s compassion toward him, but God gave it to him anyway.

As Charles Spurgeon so aptly put it, “Soar back through all your own experiences. Think of how the Lord has led you in the wilderness and has fed and clothed you every day. How God has borne with your ill manners, and put up with all your murmurings and all your longings after the 'sensual pleasures of Egypt!' Think of how the Lord's grace has been sufficient for you in all your troubles.” Yes, God rewards obedience and faithfulness to Him, but sometimes He also gives generously for no reason that we can see or understand. And He gives generously. Who among us deserves an air-conditioned bedroom, a supportive family, or nice clothes? What have we done that makes us more worthy of these things than millions of other people around the world? Nothing. "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son," and, might I add, a million other smaller blessings that we often don't even think about.

One small head of lettuce may not seem like a big deal, and, from a practical point of view, it isn't. But God can teach us life lessons even through the little things. A message about His loving generosity surrounds us every day - a safe car ride, good meals, our favorite song on the radio, even an untended yet prospering head of lettuce. But we so rarely notice. We don't deserve God's patient love and generous gifts toward us. He gives them anyway. And that's something this intermittent gardener will think about next time I eat a salad.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Perseverance and...Lettuce? - September 2009

This past spring I planted a garden. I had planned for it for months; everything was ready. One April morning, with great hopes and expectations, I started with the lettuce seeds. In the days following the planting, we had torrential rains. After waiting in vain for the lettuce to sprout, I determined that the rain had washed away the lettuce seeds. So, I planted lettuce again. After a few weeks of watering the seeds and tending to other areas of the garden, the lettuce finally came up. Unfortunately, I was not the only one interested in lettuce. The first signs of attack were noticed when I went to the garden one morning. The small but promising heads of lettuce had been turned into dejected stumps. However, I was not to be quickly defeated. Armed with a bottle of rabbit repellant, I went on the defensive. No more signs of attack appeared, and the lettuce seemed to have a new lease on life. Just when I felt safe in not applying rabbit repellant, they struck again. Again, I applied the repellant and all seemed well. Again, I felt safe in waiting just one more day to spray some more repellant. And once again, the wascally rabbits attacked. My hopes of a profitable harvest dwindled with the remains of the lettuce left from the last (and final) assault.

It takes perseverance to keep working in a garden when you seem to lose all your hard work to rabbits. In the same way, it takes perseverance when your schoolwork seems impossible. I’ve noticed that my baby brother needs perseverance as he learns to walk just as much as Nehemiah needed it when he was rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem in the face of persecution. Whether you’re dealing with annoyances, obstacles, or just plain hard work, it will take perseverance to keep doing what is right. What are your challenges right now? Is it school? Ask God to help you persevere and learn from your effort. Is it a bothersome brother or sister? Ask God to help you persevere and learn to love that brother or sister. Is it reaching a difficult goal? Ask God to help you persevere and learn that He will always help those who serve Him.
Gardening takes on new dimensions when you add persistent rabbits. This time it was easy to determine the victors in the perseverance contest: the rabbits got a lot more lettuce than I did. Next time I’ll have to remember that those who persevere get the lettuce!