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This spring our city welcomed a downpour of rain over several weeks. It has been years since such a rainy spring, and with our aquifer at drought levels, no one complained. That is, until our yards turned into botanical weed gardens.
Our family is notoriously busy. There’s a reason we landscaped with “xeriscaping”, which interpreted means “zero-work -scaping.” Lantana, crepe myrtle, and bird of paradise flourish in our climate with minimal effort. During the summer, they grow inches per day, until they cover all the available walkways into the house. We grudgingly trim them back, and repeat a few times during the summer. In January, we prune them all the way down to the trunks. Low maintenance.
But then there’s the herb garden. Herbs are finicky. They need water at least every other day in our hot summer (so demanding!). If the pot is too small, they shrivel and die when they can’t expand (fussy!). Then the sage will want to make a statement, so it takes over the entire garden. It grows both horizontally and vertically, stealing soil and sun from its neighboring chives and oregano. Basil is particularly sensitive to the sun and water ratio, and will die after a few days of no water combined with 100 degree temperatures. I don’t blame it really, given the circumstances, but I really can’t keep up with its constant neediness.
But back to the spring when the weeds invaded our lives. Every day when I arrived home, I swear there were twenty new weeds. We have three landscaping areas, plus grass that surrounds the entire house. Eventually we realized if we didn’t do something, the grass would totally succumb, and our xeriscaping would turn into weedscaping.
After several hours on my hands and knees, getting stabbed through my gloves multiple times, I got irritated. How come our plants and herbs take SO much effort to keep alive? How come dumb weeds we didn’t even plant multiply exponentially each passing day? If we left our garden alone, it would be destroyed by the heat. But if we left these weeds alone, they would saturate our yard!
The following weekend I preached at our church about worship. I shared that we sometimes expect church to occur FOR us on Sundays. A great music team plays songs we love to sing along with, so we can experience worship. If they mess up, if the words aren’t on the screen, if the lead singer is off pitch, if they play a song we don’t like, we get irritated. We certainly can’t worship! A great speaker will motivate and entertain us, so we can learn about God. If they aren’t funny enough, or inspiring enough, or if their outfit looks weird, we get bored. We certainly can’t learn!
Here’s the problem: our experience of worship is a result of what we put into it. If we have spent the week listening to worship music, spending time in God’s presence, being in a place of worship during the week, our hearts will be primed.
And here’s where the weed story comes into play. We have to cultivate the good stuff. If we don’t, the bad stuff will take over our lives by default. By default, without any effort, I am selfish, obstinate, and pessimistic. It takes a great deal of effort to cultivate a serving, gracious, cheerful attitude. By default, weeds choke out the good plants.
This means that living the Christian life requires cultivation. I’m never going to be an open-hearted, patient person without cultivation.
In one sense, this is incredibly frustrating. How much work does it take just to be a decent human being? Can’t I just be good by default? Unfortunately, this earth isn’t wired that way. We’re all messed-up, angry jerks by default. (Explains a lot, doesn’t it?!)
It requires zero-scaping for me to be an angry jerk. It’s going to take a lot of persistent cultivation for me to be something nicer and more God-like. I have to cultivate my heart if I want something good to grow in it.