GOD AND GARDENS
Francis Bacon was not only Lord Chancellor of England under King James I, but in 1625 wrote the essay Of Gardens. He begins, “God Almighty first planted a garden,” and then he writes, “indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man; without which buildings and palaces are but gross handy-works…”
By mid-July, most of our gardens are in full production. I subscribe to a recipe newsletter that recently sent me 60 ways to cook and eat zucchini. I have eaten so many of our sugar snap peas that I think my skin is turning green. In the flower beds, I’ve had to prop up Asiatic lilies with stakes to keep them from toppling over. Brown-eyed Susans and coneflowers are just coming into bloom to the delight of eager pollinators. The church also has its garden, which is lovingly tended by volunteers. All of us should pause and admire what a beautiful flower garden they maintain for the rest of us to enjoy.
The Bible has a lot to say about gardens. Genesis begins with the tale of the First Humans and a garden with a tree at its center. (Genesis 2:8-9) There’s the bittersweet Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus goes to pray as he awaits arrest and crucifixion. (Mark 14:32-52) Later, John asserts that Jesus was buried in a garden after he was taken down from the cross. “Near the place where Jesus was crucified was a garden, and in the garden there was a new tomb where no one had yet been laid to rest. And because the Sabbath was approaching, and the tomb was nearby, that’s where they laid the body of Jesus”. (John 19:41-42) Just as the Bible begins with the Garden of Eden, it concludes the Book of Revelation with a vision of the earth as a renewed garden whose leaves are for the healing of the nations (22:11).
As Bacon notes in his essay, gardening can be indeed “the purest of human pleasures” and a greater refreshment to our spirits than any skyscraper or shopping mall. That is not all that our gardens offer us, however. They can also teach us important lessons about how to live our lives.
Gardening relies on many factors that are beyond our labor and our control. A late frost in the spring blasts our tender plants. An unexpected summer hailstorm shreds our tomatoes. One summer may be too hot and dry; another, too wet. We offer what we can to help our gardens thrive, but much of our success or failure lies outside our control. That’s a lesson the bible repeatedly tells us. There may be no limits to what God can do, but we humans are limited in our wisdom, power, and control. As Ecclesiastes 8:16-17 says, “When I applied my mind to … observe the labor that is done on earth—people getting no sleep day or night—then I saw … no one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all their efforts to search it out, no one can discover its meaning. Even if the wise claim they know, they cannot really comprehend it.” We often wear ourselves out trying to force the world to conform to what we want. But reality simply does not operate according to our whims or wishes. Perhaps that is why Psalm 51:1 describes a humble heart as the sacrifice most acceptable to God.
This week I read a column by Frank Bruni in the New York Times that addressed our need to acknowledge our limits and resist our urge to think we are all-powerful. Bruni wrote a book a few years ago entitled The Beauty of Dusk. In it he chronicles his journey with a medical condition that is causing him to slowly lose his eyesight. His column shares some lessons he’s learned since its publication. “I cut myself more slack than I used to,” he writes, “I forgive myself for small mistakes (typos related to the sporadic blurring of my vision, medium-size hiccups (the occasional need to request a deadline extension) … And I resolve, as best as possible, to see that permission as its own kind of gift.” He concludes that “Throwing off the yoke of perfectionism or its lesser kinfolk can be liberating. It doesn’t compensate for loss, but it helps enormously with the adjustment to it.” Like acknowledging that we can’t always have the bountiful harvest we dream of or the county-fair winning bouquet of garden flowers we imagine we could have if only we worked harder, Bruni has learned that it’s OK to simply do our best. And ultimately, for most of us, there’s more joy in the process of gardening than in the produce we take from our gardens.
Gardens also teach a lesson about the ongoing nature of our spiritual housecleaning. I can sweep through all my beds and feel confident that not a single weed is left standing among the love-in-the-mist or underneath the cabbages. Then, a week later, I am dismayed to discover that everything from lambs’ quarters to pigweed have mysteriously appeared everywhere. A single crabgrass plant can produce 150,000 seeds; and they are all waiting there in my garden’s soil for an opportune moment to sprout and grow. We are never finished with our lives. New challenges and temptations are always sprouting in the fertile soil of our lives. Old enticements and frailties that we thought we were finished with have a way of blossoming once more in places that we imagined were well-weeded. Maybe that’s why week-by-week we have a confession of sin and assurance of new beginnings in our worship service. It reminds us that there’s always work to do when it comes to uprooting unwanted behaviors and thoughts from our lives.
Weeds have another lesson. They teach us tolerance. There are times when I look at a weed growing where it’s not supposed to be; and I decide to let it be. Since I cannot have a permanently weed-free garden, I have learned to be tolerant of a few weeds here and there. I have learned to “let creeping Charlie lie” in certain seasons and locations. It’s a version of “Pick your battles carefully.” Tolerance is sometimes necessary even with a desirable plant. Plants, like people, have preference and they don’t thrive when you put them in whatever hole is nearby. Some plants like sun; others, shade. Different plants have different requirements for moisture and soil chemistry. I can’t bend them to my will and just put them where I think they’ll fit. I have to be tolerant of their needs and not just my own wishes or desires. As Paul admonishes the church in Rome: Welcome those who are weak in faith but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions. Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat… Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God.” (Romans 14:1-3, 10) His words are a plea for tolerance.
What lessons is your garden teaching you?
With prayer,
Pastor Thomas