Spiritually, we behave the same way, only reversed. The lives we make for ourselves are often barren places surrounded by the gardens of God. I'm not sure why we create these grim "realities" for ourselves, but I think it has something to do with the journey. Like children building playhouses in the backyard, we build ourselves imitation lives in an attempt to understand how life works. God wants us to understand, but I wonder if God doesn't sometimes pause on the porch in benevolant amazement before calling us in to supper.
To answer God's call we must abandon our illusions about life; our illusions of war, strife, anger, jealousy, bitterness and rivalry, competition, and perhaps most insidious, independence. We must abandon the dryness and wracking heat of our anger that withers everything we plant before it has a chance to bear fruit. All these illusions are not the truth; they are not in God's house, they are not God's way.
There is an interesting line in the Gospel that Jesus uses when the authorities of his day accused him of misleading the people. He said these teachers were like children singing a song. "We piped and you would not dance; we pretended to die and you would not weep." Jesus was accused for eating and drinking, for enjoying the company of friends--but he never sinned, even with the good things of life. His relationships with people were both tender and firm. His concern was always to lead us out of the desert into abundant lives of grace.
It takes a revolution of the heart. We call it "conversion". The word means "to go across or against". But it is deeper than mere rebellion. It suggests an intimate union with a new way of being, a new way of living that is totally changed, unfamiliar and new. It implies awakening from a dream, throwing off illusions about life and self and where we find meaning. It requires a radical abandonment of illusions of the desert in exchange for the fertile life of God. The tough part is, we are free to continue our game as long as we wish. It's our choice.
Why is conversion so hard? Jesus says it's like a man who plants a field with good grain only to have an enemy come at night to scatter the seed of weeds all over the freshly planted ground. You can't just tear the weeds out when they sprout because you will tear out the good grain as well. Tough gig. For the time of growing, they will grow together--seeds and weeds. When God comes to call us inside, he will send his workers to harvest the wheat, the fruit of our lives. As they do so they will separate out the weeds, everything useless that clung to us and interferred. The grain will be gathered into God's barns. The weeds will be burned. Our soujourn in the desert will be sorted out and cleansed. The question of concern for us is, will God find anything worth keeping?
We are not helpless or without hope. Be clear about that. The Garden that surrounds our lives is real. The Master Gardener lives right next door. We can go to God for advice, tips, tools and supplies. In spite of the weeds, we can learn to grow good crops, abundant harvests. The Bible is like a how-to manual for gardening in desert places and when the time is right, He will make the desert bloom! I've seen it happen. I've walked in the desert after a once-in-twenty-five year winter when it rains every few days for weeks at a time. I've walked on desert lands where in one summer there is nothing to see but burned, glaring rock and the next Spring there were so many wildflowers my feet never touched the ground! I was out with friends one rainy year and we walked for hundreds of yards three feet above the ground because the wildflowers and bushes were so thick. (Excuse me, snakes, but please don't pop out!)
This is how it is with God. His love is so complete, so powerful and so abundant that this illusion we call "life" won't even be recognizeable when he calls us to share his... and we don't have to wait. For a while, yes, we will struggle in a weedy patch we call "our" life. This is God's will and it serves God's purpose. But it isn't the whole of us nor the span of our existence. Even here, even now in the desert, we can experience the abundance of the Garden. This is why Lent is such a puzzle to us. How is it we can labor and sacrifice, and rejoice and exalt at the same time? How is it Lent can be so refreshing if it is a season for determined renewal?
The answers are out in my garden and in the desert that surrounds me. I go with my hoe to participate in the dance of life, which brings life to barren places. I go out farther with my hat and water bottle to walk on the desert and know that all around me the seeds are sleeping, sometimes for years, waiting for the rains to come, for the arrival of God's Spirit which breaks open and renews the earth. It is a wonderful job, just watching, seeing how He does it, knowing that out there, just across the fence, he's gardening too. And it's a wonderful garden indeed. Sometimes, when the wind is right, you can smell the flowers...
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