Opening the Soil

I spent an hour or so opening the soil of the garden to air. Strange as it may seem, the plants were having a hard time getting started because the soil was so compacted. Four inches of rain last week, followed by another inch and seven tenths, conspired to pound the surface of the garden so hard that to walk on it yesterday was like walking on a sidewalk. Solid.

No wonder the plants were of a lime green hue and 'scraggly-looking', and no wonder the leaves were starting to take on that 'curled' look: The roots couldn't breathe. The area where the garden is now located has been, since 1970 when the parsonage was built, a difficult place to grow grass because so much of the soil was 'fill' soil, lacking humus and nutrients. There is no tilth in the soil and anything attempting to find life in that area, first has to fight the compacting nature of the soil itself in order to establish a root system.

So, I spent an hour or so spading the paths between the rows, not 'turning over' the soil, just stepping the spade down as far as it would go, then pulling it straight back up. Every couple of inches, from side to side in the pathways, the blade of the spade made an incision into the water packed soil, opening the environment of the root systems to breathe and allowing the moisture to continue its movement downward. By this morning the plants were already a dark green and the leaves had begun to open up to the sunshine. It is amazing what happens to life when compacted soil is opened up, which is really not so much unlike our own lives.

Often beaten down by the expectations of our commercialized world, told that the way we look and the clothes we wear aren't up-to-date, that the cars we drive reflect the type of person we will become, that the measure of 'success' is always a goal beyond our reach unless we have just the right cell phone carrier to carry our message to those unreachable places, that our relationships will never thrive unless we are 6' 3" tall and weigh just under 175 and have the physique of a model and the personality of a cardboard box, that no matter how high we strive to go the government stands ready to assist - if we will only pay just a little bit more in taxes to help those who have no goals at all, that personal responsibility is always someone else's issue, and that no one will watch out for number one unless you are the one to make you number one . . . is it a wonder that so many struggle to survive, much less thrive? Everyday living becomes a challenge and, what otherwise should be a simple straightforward process, becomes an exercise in futility: God's law of grace and mercy seemingly overtaken by Murphy's law of inevitability (whatever can go wrong, will, and it will happen to you).

Yet, it is precisely into that moment, exactly into that most compacted place in our lives, that God steps into our struggle in Jesus. Moment after moment, day after day, life by life, Jesus opens the most tightly compressed spaces of our living to the wind of the Spirit that new life might enter. The root of our existence is exposed to the creative breath of God and life seeps in as death's door is thrown open.

Odd, how a few moments spent in the garden with a spade allows for a new vision of God, but then, isn't that God's spade at work in the tight places of my life as well? I think so, and for God's care and time I am grateful.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don