I have garden envy. I’m jealous of other people’s vegetable gardens and I’m not afraid to admit it.

As I drove around Central Ohio this weekend with my family, blessed with the privilege of officiating the wedding of one of our former youth group members, I noticed the sacred patches of life everywhere.

In people’s yards, in open spaces between houses, in the minimal space between town homes on crowded side streets of bouncing cobblestone.

Gardens. Vegetables straining higher and higher toward the life-giving sun, their green leaves balanced between bending and standing, showed signs of blossoms and buds that would become tomatoes or squash. I was envious. 

What I notice most about the rich, healthy gardens – those you can tell have been in rotation for years – are the intricate tomato cages or trellises set up to support the growth of new vegetables. I had no clue what I was doing when I first started, but these gardeners are well versed in the language of what it takes to grow something new and enjoy the fruits of that knowledge.

It isn’t an accident that Jesus & His early followers spoke of life in terms of gardening. Life began in a garden (Genesis 1-2), was sustained by food from the ground throughout history, and will be sustained by food from well-tilled and Spirit-nourished people going forward (Galatians 5).

The fruit of God’s work in real people is the food that marks the Kingdom of God as present and good.

Since this is the case, we need to step back occasionally and ask ourselves the question: what makes me grow? 

If patience is a need in my life, what environments are necessary for me to become more patient?

If self-control is absent in my life, what fertilizes the soil in which I can reign in my temper or my compulsive behaviors?

If faithfulness is a gap in my character, both to God and to others, where am I missing opportunities to water and sustain the growth of faithfulness in my life?

Today, spend some time looking at the garden that is your growth into Christlikeness. What fruit and vegetables do you find growing in your soul? Are they sustaining foods or are they withering on the vine from lack of attention and cultivation?

May the Spirit of God prune and shape (see John 15) you to become the beautiful garden of hope both you and the world around you needs.

You guys just aren’t deep enough.

Possible reactions to that statement run from defensiveness (“We did 31 weeks through the whole Bible!”) to dismissive (“Well, there’s a really deep church down the street.”) but I’m not sure either of those are great responses. What is the better response? Well, here’s what I’d say:

What do you mean by “deep”?

Here’s the reality: “deep” doesn’t mean the same thing to every person. Deep to some people is exegetical preaching and hardcore Bible studies. Deep to others is emotional and practical application beyond just the “surface” (which is actually harder to define than “deep”). For some people, “deep” just means you use Greek words and shout often in your sermons.

We have to get past this tension, this divide, and the reason we need to do it is because deep is important. Deep expresses hunger, longing, and desire for more out of this life with Christ. Deep is to spirituality what raiding the fridge and finding everything is to a teenage boy. We need to progress more and more in our relationship with Christ, and deep is how we get there.

However, it’s time we redefined deep. Here are three starting points for redefining deep:

1. Deep isn’t just deep, it’s also wide. Alan Fadling in his book An Unhurried Life (p. 160) gives an excellent breakdown of what depth should look like and he breaks it into three areas:

Cognitive depth: theologically, biblically and doctrinally rich stuff. Dealing with the concept of the Trinity, atonement, and predestination as well as the history behind the text of the Bible and what we need to know about God.

Spiritual depth: the level of my personal receptivity to and engagement with God in the moment-to-moment living of life.

Heart depth: I am more emotionally responsive to God and others as well as more willing to show my love for God by obeying Him.

Deep is beyond your brain – it moves into the whole solar system of your life and engages it all for the purpose of transforming you and the world you live in for the sake of the Kingdom of God. That is why Jesus said the whole project rises and falls for us on “loving God with our heart, mind, soul and strength” and “loving our neighbor as ourselves.” (Matt. 22:37-40, paraphrase)

If we only have one of these aspects developing intentionally (i.e. “mind”) we are actually shallow, not deep.

2. Deep isn’t your church’s sole responsibility. 2 Peter 3:18 is a great passage, where Peter challenges the community to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (paraphase) What interests me is that  many of the “growth” challenge statements are directed at individuals, not the church. Even when they are directed at the church, they’re in an equipping sense. What I mean is that our deepening is an entrepreneurial enterprise. The church trains, but we are practitioners – whether alone or in community – and the local church is the restoration & training center.

3. Deep in an input/output enterprise. We have to see the project of transportation as a calorie intake vs. calorie burn scenario. The Scriptures talk about God’s guidance and direction as “food” on several occasions. The point of food, other than enjoyment, is primarily to energize us for the tasks our body is required to do. In terms of our spiritual growth, the “calories” (grace-filled elements of prayer, Scripture, community) are meant to be “burned” (serving, mentoring, discipling.) Sometimes the deep challenge isn’t a problem of input but a problem of output.

I want to close this with Alan Fadling’s great words:

Are we open to God’s bringing such depth to every facet of our lives? Will we enter into deep soul work, deep interaction with God, deep sharing of our lives together and deep engagement with the non-follwers in our lives? Will we seek LIFE DEEP and not just settle for INTELLECT depth? (160)

If you’ve owned a car in your life, the following internal discussion makes sense to you:

The car sounds like it’s running a little harder than normal. Hmm, probably time for an oil change. No, wait, I did that last month they just didn’t put up the new sticker. What’s that clicking? Something stuck in the tire? Eh, probably not. That sounds more like a squeak. (Turns down radio) Yeah, sounds like it’s coming from the right driver’s side. Maybe. Wait, no, maybe the right rear. We just had the shocks looked at back there. Oh man, I hope it isn’t the same thing again. (Turns radio up again, louder now). Can’t hear it now…

Admit it – we’ve all done this. We’ve turned up the radio and waited for it to go away. It’s an incredible repair method – we sort of expect cars to act like a human body and regenerate parts and lubrication, hoses and gaskets, etc.

Sorry to say, cars just don’t do that. However, I wonder if the logic we use with cars isn’t just as dangerous when applied to ourselves? More specifically, I run into people often who feel like the “spiritual” wheels have fallen off and they’re in a free-fall. There is a distance from God, there is a sense that all the old methods – the tried and true devotional practices or worship music – simply isn’t providing the ointment that soothes the rough patches.

I want to give a few suggestions that we can use when we feel stalled, stagnant or simply dead along our journey of becoming like Christ:

1. Are we exploring or avoiding a tension in our spiritual lives? This is a good question, because it gets at the heart of what we believe about God. For example, if we believe God keeps his people completely untouched by pain or trial then any pain or tension causes us to question our proximity or trust in God. The tension comes when our experience does not match our belief and this is a place where I believe incredible growth is possible.

2. Are we out of whack when it comes to spiritual input & output? I have met people who can quote chapter & verse from obscure minor prophets in the Bible, and yet act in unloving and hateful ways. I have met people who have unreal energy for ministry but are riding the ragged edge because they are slighting their families, ignoring their rhythmic need for rest and self-grace, and their identity is wrapped up in what they do and not in Christ. We must have a way to balance the two halves – advance and retreat – of our life in Christ.

3. Are we waging wars between two kingdoms? Jesus really messed up the accepted order when He taught His disciples to pray, “Our Father in the heavens…let your reign come and your will be done, here and now like it is where you are.” (Matt. 6:9, my translation) Why? When Jesus asked them to pray this way, they were welcoming conflict. God’s reign is deep, seeping like water through loose black soil into our lives and systems. It goes everywhere. Unless, that is, someone resists it by flying the flag of another kingdom.

In other words, we can put ourselves in an awkward spot by deeply investing ourselves in the present kingdom (which means either our own control of our world or the systematic control of politics, etc.) but at the same time asking for God’s reign – Jesus’ example lived here and now – to come. These two things are largely incompatible.

Spends some time reflecting today on these questions and allow God to provide some insights into where that creaking or clanging sound in your soul is coming from.

Father, I’m surrounded by the good.

Yes I see the evil.

The ugly.

The wasted.

The excessive.

It’s in me. It’s in others. I’m aware of it.

So sometimes I forget that I’m surrounded by the good.

The beautiful.

The brilliant.

The functionless poetry of You being You and creatively toying with my cosmos.

Through the rods and cones of my eyes.

Through my reverberating ear drum.

Through my sense of scent and my tasting deeply.

I’m surrounded by the good.

I’m surrounded by You. Emmanuel. God with us. Always with us. And in us.

Remind me and let my attention lead to ascension in my heart and my spirit today.

Amen.

One of the amazing things about the library (at least mine) is the selection of music they have on hand. Just this week I picked up some Laura Marling and Frightened Rabbit and have been enjoying both greatly.

Then the thought sets in:  I could just rip this to my iTunes and have it. 

Yes, it’s a crime and yes I know that. Yes it is a resource I’ve “paid” for with my tax dollars, but still…come on. Who’ll say anything?

I have to ask myself, whom I consider to be an ethically upright Christ-follower why this didn’t set off alarms like crazy in my heart and mind. Really, can I justify what amounts to theft? How does this reconcile with the most basic commandments of God not to take what is not yours. Even my first grader understands this.

I think there is a deeper spiritual root to this question, and it is very simple: we live under a very heavy compulsion to own. To possess. To call something ours. 

Along with this compulsion is the idea that if I don’t own it, how can I enjoy it? 

This is why generations of folks can’t understand renting a house for the rest of your life. The goal was always to own your own, right?

There is so much in our lives that would be radically transformed if we learned the spiritual discipline of borrowing. The discipline that says we can live and enjoy things in this world without owning them, because it teaches us stewardship rather than ownership.

Maybe you think I’m begging the question, but honestly how would our lives change if we started to enjoy the loose grip lifestyle of borrowing?

Instead of buying that new book, find a library and borrow it.

Instead of downloading new music, borrow it from a friend or a public library.

Instead of buying that new tool or piece of equipment, rent it or borrow it from a friend.

There isn’t a law for this, and Jesus is not going to be unhappy if you own stuff, but if we want to train ourselves to be the kind of people who are “free indeed” from debt and stuff then we can harness the discipline of borrowing and learn to live without ownership.

Because deep down, ownership means control. Status. Prestige. When those things get out of order, we end up displacing God and replacing Him with our own power to own.

So today, consider this:

1. Make a list of the top 10 things you have been thinking about buying.

2. Brainstorm about where you could borrow those items from rather than owning them.

3. While you’re at it, consider the things you already own that you don’t need. Eliminating clutter makes this process much easier.

4. Pray about your desire to own and ask God to reveal ways that it has kept you from being the kind of person who can do what Jesus asks.

Engaging in the discipline of borrowing will teach us new things about our own drive to own, our relationship to others, and our relationship to God.

Maybe we choose by what we’re most interested in or maybe we choose by price or nutritional value, but no matter what our reason is we choose something. we order it. we eat it. usually we’re satisfied.

Where is the goodness in our world, apart from what makes us happy or satisfies our physical needs?

Where is the goodness in our relationships, apart from getting what we want out of others and not having too much required of us in return?

Where is the goodness in our material possessions, apart from the belief that we can never have enough and what we do have must be upgraded?

So goodness is God.

Goodness is God’s will being done.

Goodness is God providing even when we aren’t sure He is.

Goodness is the breaking sunshine through the windows of abuse and addiction.

Goodness is the son of God and the Spirit of God moving ordinary broken folks to extraordinary lives in the real world.

That’s right. Peanut butter on a hot dog.

Perhaps you think that these are two things that don’t go well with each other, but I disagree. A nice grilled dog with a slather of peanut butter will get you through the day. I promise. (*I couldn’t find a picture that didn’t look disgusting, please forgive the lack of graphics).

There was a long-standing discussion between my wife and I when we first met. It had to do with how my major in college – religion – related to her major – business management.

In other words, who was evil and soulless and who wasn’t.

I obviously held the upper hand, because I was studying to work for God but she was studying to work for the “man” or the almighty dollar. “Obviously” business and faith couldn’t go well together, much like peanut butter and hot dogs.

We’ve managed to figure out how to get through this, but sometimes we revive the old discussion just for fun.

All sarcasm aside, the idea of faith & work living comfortably together hasn’t had an easy ride in the past:

Some contend that your job is just what you do so that you can do what God “called” you to do.

Some say that your “job” IS your “ministry”.

Some still elevate those who are “called” to missions or pastoral work above those who are CEO’s, nurses, or accountants.

The reality is that everything we do cultivates spiritual formation into Christlikeness. If we want work or vocation to shape us well, we need a good theology of work. A way of understanding how God is present in what we do – regardless of the role or impact it has.

Klaus Issler in his book Living into the Life of Jesus, has a brilliant chapter on what Jesus says about work and money. He quotes the late Dallas Willard’s breakdown of four key terms in work:

1. Job: what I am paid to do, how I earn my living.

2. Ministry: that part of God’s special work in my time that he has specifically allotted me.

3. Work: the total amount of lasting goods that I will produce in my lifetime.

4. Life: Me. My experience and who I am.

The key in these four terms is that Willard presents them in four circles that are all part of one another. Your job, ministry and work are all part of the same circle which is your life. So, whether you preach on Sunday or manage a small firm on Monday, all work is the meaningful sum of what God is doing through you as you yield to His Spirit every day.

In the words of Miroslav Volf,

“All human work, however, complicated or simple, is made possible by the operations of the Spirit of God in the working person; and all work whose nature and results reflect the values of the new creation is accomplished under the instruction and inspiration of the Spirit of God.”  (Work in the Spirit, 114)

So work and witness, ministry and manual labor, Christlikeness and customer service are all interwoven like a tightly wound quilt that warms us and gives rest to our bones. Today, the work you do – whether in a factory or a family room, a hospital or a sanctuary – produces long-standing effects in the Kingdom of God.

So the question is this – if all work is part of God’s life and transformation plan for you then how will you approach that work today?

Every journey starts with one step. Lao Tzu said something like that, I believe.

It’s true though. Every journey starts with one step.

Knowing the mess that is human life, the complicated dances we do to make things work and make up for our dysfunction, a journey is more than just a trendy way to talk about faith & God. It is an adequate description of what Paul calls the Spirit of Christ being “formed in us.” (Gal. 4)

Formation.

Shaping.

Character change.

It takes time. It takes distance.

Yet any journey must begin somewhere. It begins with a step. It begins with pulling out of your driveway, stepping out of your door, buying that plane ticket or getting those third-world prepping shots. It begins. It must begin.

So why is it that many of us struggle with our growth and character change in Christ?

It seems simple to say it this way, but in a nutshell:

We never begin. We never take a first small step. The reason is that we haven’t yet fallen in love with the destination.

We never think how good it could be to have patience, so we never do the small practices such as choosing the longer line at the checkout and getting in it.

We never think how good it could be to live without anger, so we never practice extended periods of disconnecting from being “productive” and allow God to control the world.

We never think how good it could be to live beyond the influence of our compulsions, so we never fast that one meal a day/one day a week (or fast from technology thirty minutes a day/one day a week/one week a month/one month a year).

Jesus invites us to this – to see how good it could be to live as if God was King right here and now. He invites us to pray,

“…your Kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” (Matt. 6:10)

He invites us to know,

“I am the resurrection and the life (present tense)…” (John 11:25)

He invites us to understand,

“If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit, but apart from me you can do nothing.”  (John 15:5)

We have this moment, this poignant and pregnant moment that’s waiting to bring life to us. And yet we’re caught. We’re frustrated and confused and irritated and overwhelmed. Why?

Because we have lost the simplicity of just beginning. Start small, there are no reasons to be heroic, focus on progress rather than perfection, and follow the road that leads to life (John 14:6).

Begin. One step. Today.

This weekend, I attended my daughter’s first dance recital. Though I’m new at this whole recital thing, from a purely critical standpoint I have to say:

I thought she was the best of the group. Acclaimed, poised, beautiful. Period.

Moving on.

I was captivated as I watched other groups – I’m not much for dance myself, uncoordinated since time out of mind – do the waltz and the rumba and the samba. They moved smoothly, these children who had yet to reach high school and some even prior to junior high, and their movements gave age and wisdom to them that they had yet to earn.

It was beautiful.

However, it also made me think of the world I live in. How the beautiful grace of the human body in coordinated motion can turn to other things. How those children, one day, may grow up and use that grace and beauty for broken and self-satisfying purposes. They grow up to be humans with the capacity for great beauty, but also for great ugliness and darkness as well.

When I’m reminded of the tension – the beauty and good in this world along with the evil – I think back to Paul’s conversation with the intelligent and searching Athenians on Mars Hill and I am struck by the power of one passage:

From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’ (Acts 17:26-28, NIV)

At that boundary line, where elegant dance may one day become enticement and seduction, where the goodness is turned on its ear and becomes evil and the beauty is exchanged for one bite of the fruit of ugly self-indulgence, God is there.

In all His depth, in all His worth and glory, God stands near to us even when we are at the cliff’s edge of destruction. So that maybe, perhaps there is an outside chance, that we would stretch our fingers away from the darkened void and feel the breath of God’s Spirit on our hands. We would know we are near to Him – perilously close to the miraculous Father – and then live in the beautiful truth that everything we do is in Him.

We live, we move, we have our being in the full view of a finite audience. One to be precise. A near depth experience is around every corner, if we would simply seek it.

Today, be on the lookout for beauty and goodness and truth in your life. Live today knowing that everything you do today is in Him – every choreographed moment of our lives are executed on the stage of life granted to us by a gracious and good Father.

And dance furiously. You are so near the depth that you seek.

If you want to reduce a room to silence…

If you want to cause panic, sweat, furrowed brows and downcast eyes…

If you want to put the nerves of others on edge (goodness knows why)…

Then there is one simple topic you can bring up:

Forgiveness. 

To clarify, not the Jesus-died-my-sins-washed-away discussion – no, this is the she-slighted-me-he-wounded me discussion. This is the nitty gritty core of revolutionary living, spray painted on the brick walls of human reality.

This is Jesus’ finest hour, finest teaching and His finest work and it scares us to death.

For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matthew 6:14-15, NIV)

I understand the challenge this poses - are you telling me Jesus won’t forgive me until I forgive the person who raped/murdered/injured/betrayed/abused, etc. me? 

No, that is not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that forgiveness fundamentally teaches us something about ourselves and something about God.

1. We are in need of, and indeed recipients of forgiveness (Mt. 6:14)
2. We are in need of, and indeed capable of, sharing what we’ve been given (6:15)

If we’ve been restored, forgiven, and made whole by God we have the opportunity and the responsibility to break the cycle of anger, bitterness and hatred that binds us and destroys us from the inside out. To withhold forgiveness shows that our hearts still haven’t grasped how deep and beautiful and powerful the forgiveness of God is for us.

The other thought here is how do we do it?

In Klaus Issler’s book Living into the Life of Jesus, he quotes from social researcher & follower of Jesus Robert Enright. Notice this is a process – Jesus sets the example and we are to walk in the path of forgiveness, seeking progress first rather than perfection.

First, (we) acknowledge that the offense was unfair and will always continue to be unfair. Second, we have a moral right to be angry; it is fair to cling to our view that people do not have a right to hurt us. We have a right to respect. Third, forgiveness requires giving up something to which we have a right – namely our anger or resentment.” (167)

The result? “…as we reach out to the one who hurt us, we are the ones who heal.” Notice in the second step that this isn’t about weakness – this is a strong statement that says “I won’t let you hurt me like this again, but I can’t hold you to the past hurt either.”

Jesus knew what we often fail to see – this isn’t about being a doormat, about letting people off the hook, about becoming a passive spectator welcoming punches in the face. Instead, it is the true life of trusting that if God can forgive me and take care of me completely then I can experience the peace that comes in releasing the person I’m keeping prisoner in my own head. So I can heal. So I can see life beyond the pain.

I have people in my life that I have had to work on forgiving, and it has been a task and it is still in process. They may be the origin of minor slights that time has turned into wars of emotions, or slow leaks of influence that drained me completely. But I believe in the process. I believe that if we practiced forgiveness the world of darkness and pain would begin to cave from the inside out.

So I try to pray for good things to come to those who hurt me. Not good things as a reward for their actions, but good things that will reveal God’s grace to them.

If I can’t pray for that, and hope for that, and live for that, then how can I live as if someone has forgiven and prayed for my best when I’ve been at my lowest?