Briars and Myrtle Trees
March 11, 2007 Readings:
Isaiah 55:1-9
1 Corinthians 10: 1-13
Luke 13: 1-9
I couldn’t stop at verse 9 when reading today’s verses in Isaiah. The whole chapter was so beautiful, but perhaps I am most drawn the verses that follow verse 9 because there are some signs that spring is coming, subtle but sure. The temperature has risen. The snow drifts are slowly pooling into the streets and sidewalks. The sun is bright on the snow. I’ve lived here long enough to know that anything could happen in the next hour—there could be another blizzard, or the puddles in the streets could freeze over, or the river could flood. I’ve learned to make snow angels in the middle of a blizzard, to stop what I’m doing and take a walk on the one warm day in the month because I know it may be the only warm day.
But I’ve also lived here long enough to feel the greater truth of every subtle weather change. “As the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth; it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” I’ve talked to enough farmers in the region to understand how the below freezing temperatures, the hail, the snow, and now the warmer weather might affect their crops. I realize that our environment is suffering, but I can’t help but look forward to the growing season; I’ve already started planning my garden. “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and the trees of the field will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree, and instead of the briars, the myrtle will grow. This will be the Lord’s renown, for an everlasting sign, which will not be destroyed.”
If only I could see the coming of spring as an everlasting sign of God’s love, as God’s word made tangible in the world. If only I could be a part of the plan Isaiah lays out—that the word will not come back empty, but will achieve the purpose for which God sent it. Sometimes it’s easier to lose the big picture, to get caught up in my broken computer, problems at work, my very tight budget, the spring break that will get swallowed by work that I need to catch up on. But everything is impermanent: the computer will get fixed when I have some extra money; I’ll have some extra money this summer and will be able to pay off debts and also put some funds in savings; the work will get done; all job-related problems will seem insignificant in a year, maybe even in a month.
Meanwhile, the world bursts into spring. The seeds settle into the soil and begin their slow ascent from darkness into light. The world needs to be repaired, but there are activists and scientists and politicians working on this problem—and in the meantime, the farmers go on with their work, hope for the best possible harvest. Meanwhile, I go on working on each new challenge as it arises, and I try to keep the big picture in my mind. I have a rewarding and challenging job, and I can work through the small problems. I have a tight budget, but I’m learning how to manage my money and am repairing the damage of bad decisions in the past. I’m moving forward on the adoption process; the pre-adoption training is done, and my application is in.
Jesus reminds us in the parable of the fig tree that God always offers another chance. Give the tree another year even though it hasn’t provided any fruit, God says. The verse harkens back to Isaiah’s beautiful description of the word made real in the world: the briars will be replaced by the myrtle, the seed will create bread.
St. Paul tells us we are never tempted beyond what we can handle. I don’t know if I believe this exactly; I can’t bear to think of the suffering so many people in the world have to face, and I can’t believe that our cruelty to each other or even the natural disasters and losses in our lives stop just when we can’t bear anymore. But I do know that, although time does not heal wounds exactly, time makes scars more bearable, more meaningful; time places every grief and fear in a context, weaves every trouble into the fabric of our lives.
Isaiah 55:1-9
1 Corinthians 10: 1-13
Luke 13: 1-9
I couldn’t stop at verse 9 when reading today’s verses in Isaiah. The whole chapter was so beautiful, but perhaps I am most drawn the verses that follow verse 9 because there are some signs that spring is coming, subtle but sure. The temperature has risen. The snow drifts are slowly pooling into the streets and sidewalks. The sun is bright on the snow. I’ve lived here long enough to know that anything could happen in the next hour—there could be another blizzard, or the puddles in the streets could freeze over, or the river could flood. I’ve learned to make snow angels in the middle of a blizzard, to stop what I’m doing and take a walk on the one warm day in the month because I know it may be the only warm day.
But I’ve also lived here long enough to feel the greater truth of every subtle weather change. “As the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth; it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” I’ve talked to enough farmers in the region to understand how the below freezing temperatures, the hail, the snow, and now the warmer weather might affect their crops. I realize that our environment is suffering, but I can’t help but look forward to the growing season; I’ve already started planning my garden. “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and the trees of the field will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree, and instead of the briars, the myrtle will grow. This will be the Lord’s renown, for an everlasting sign, which will not be destroyed.”
If only I could see the coming of spring as an everlasting sign of God’s love, as God’s word made tangible in the world. If only I could be a part of the plan Isaiah lays out—that the word will not come back empty, but will achieve the purpose for which God sent it. Sometimes it’s easier to lose the big picture, to get caught up in my broken computer, problems at work, my very tight budget, the spring break that will get swallowed by work that I need to catch up on. But everything is impermanent: the computer will get fixed when I have some extra money; I’ll have some extra money this summer and will be able to pay off debts and also put some funds in savings; the work will get done; all job-related problems will seem insignificant in a year, maybe even in a month.
Meanwhile, the world bursts into spring. The seeds settle into the soil and begin their slow ascent from darkness into light. The world needs to be repaired, but there are activists and scientists and politicians working on this problem—and in the meantime, the farmers go on with their work, hope for the best possible harvest. Meanwhile, I go on working on each new challenge as it arises, and I try to keep the big picture in my mind. I have a rewarding and challenging job, and I can work through the small problems. I have a tight budget, but I’m learning how to manage my money and am repairing the damage of bad decisions in the past. I’m moving forward on the adoption process; the pre-adoption training is done, and my application is in.
Jesus reminds us in the parable of the fig tree that God always offers another chance. Give the tree another year even though it hasn’t provided any fruit, God says. The verse harkens back to Isaiah’s beautiful description of the word made real in the world: the briars will be replaced by the myrtle, the seed will create bread.
St. Paul tells us we are never tempted beyond what we can handle. I don’t know if I believe this exactly; I can’t bear to think of the suffering so many people in the world have to face, and I can’t believe that our cruelty to each other or even the natural disasters and losses in our lives stop just when we can’t bear anymore. But I do know that, although time does not heal wounds exactly, time makes scars more bearable, more meaningful; time places every grief and fear in a context, weaves every trouble into the fabric of our lives.
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