Elevation: A "Plant's" Tale

They always told me that all I had to do was make sure to take care of my leaves, my branches, my stem, and my roots, then my life would be wonderful. They told me that the way in which I would accomplish this was to make sure and prune myself regularly. This way all of the unhealthy stuff clinging to me would be cut away, and no other parts of me would be infected by the “disease” running rampant throughout my body. I took them at their word.

Fall was just beginning, and the rain fell continuously in a complex rhythm that only plants can discern. It was beautiful. The ground underneath me was soft and soothing. It made me feel like I could just sink into its safety, and lap up all of the nutrients I needed. In that place of comfort I began doing the best I could to cut off all of my bad leaves and branches.

There were many others around me doing the same thing. It seemed as if we had a community of individuals doing everything we could to become perfectly healthy without affecting those around us. It was awesome. We would tell each other about the last cut we made to remove some infection and how that had made such a difference in our lives. We would stay out of each other’s way and be careful to make everyone around us as comfortable as possible. We didn’t really know anything about each other, but we certainly knew that each of us was getting healthier as we each took care of ourselves.

Every now and again I would feel something at my roots, something brushing up against me. I didn’t understand what was happening. It made me feel uncomfortable, so after awhile I would shift to one side or another to avoid whatever it was. By the end of fall, that irritation had stopped completely; I was relieved. I heard others complaining about the problem, but they too had dealt with it. Interestingly, as winter drew nearer, many of us began to notice a few plants had moved closer together over in the east. We all thought it was sort of scandalous, and rumors surfaced that not only were they pruning one another, but that their roots were entangled. I couldn’t believe the reports. Soon, however, a strange feeling began to well up inside of me. I felt a sort of longing – something I had never felt before – a feeling that there had to be something more to life than what I was currently experiencing. And the only ones doing anything different was this group over to the east. They looked like they were so far away and isolated. I stood there befuddled as the feeling grew more acute, then something began to tickle. “Dang it,” I said out loud, “There’s that feeling at my roots again.”

By the middle of winter, life was getting pretty bleak. I was still trimming and pruning myself, but something was missing. The ground beneath me, which was ultimately just as much a part of me as my roots, was cold and hard as a stone – not even close to comfortable or safe. The rain was still falling, but mixed with it was snow and hail. The hail hurt a great deal. “What a difference a season can make,” I thought.

As the winter sun scared away the gloomy clouds one day, I looked at myself. Instantly I noticed how barren I was. There were hardly any branches left, and on the ones I still had, there were hardly any leaves. I wondered to myself, “How in the world will I be able to bloom in the spring?” I noticed the same thing in the other plants. I asked them about what was happening, and they told me it was normal. Something told me their words were more a formality than the truth. I had noticed that the other plants were separating themselves from one another. There were complaints at every turn. I listened as discord brewed amongst friends. Arguments surfaced everywhere. Some were upset that everyone looked so bland and leafless. Beauty was important to them, but most had no idea they were artists…until now, in the heart of winter. They were irate at everyone around them because of all of the ugliness in the community. Some were just simply depressed about life. All of the trimming and pruning hurt so badly, and it was so lonely in all of the pain. There was no longer the comfort of the soil and the wonderful rain that softened it. Some were irritated about the “feelings” at their roots. It seemed that whatever it was brushing up against us continued and even got worse. I hadn’t noticed it for a while, but then I realized that my roots were being touched at almost every moment. “Hmmm…strange,” I thought to myself.

I could hardly take anymore of the complaining and arguing going on around me, so I glanced over to the east to see how the plants that had grouped together were doing. They were much closer to me than before. In fact, I could have talked to them had I felt the desire. They were able to shift my attention from all of the heartache and separation in my community. For some reason there seemed to be a peace about them – a fulfillment actually. They didn’t look too much different at first glance – a little more barren than usual, few leaves, an eagerness to engage a new season – but then I began to notice how many more branches each of them had. That, of course didn’t make any sense to me. They didn’t have many leaves, but I noticed that each of them had some infection on many of leaves they did have. I thought to myself, “Wow, they don’t know how to take care of themselves. That disease is going to engulf them before long, and they will all die – what torment.”

While I was staring at them they invited me to journey with them. That sounded very strange to me, but it somehow felt comforting. I instantaneously felt accepted as well and decided to engage their proposal.

Our relationships deepened quickly. We would all dialogue about life together. I brought up how cold and hard the soil was. They agreed. They said that soon the good rain will fall again, and the soil will be tender and inviting once again. I found that they liked to balance their trimming and pruning so as not to instantaneously cut away anything that looked bad. With so few branches, they had found by the time spring came along that sometimes they were hardly able to grow any flowers at all. And since they loved beauty and every one of them were artists, they felt it better to leave as many of their branches connected as possible, even when they looked a little nasty. “More branches, more chances,” they would always say, “If we don’t bloom, how would we find out who we are, anyway?” In their thinking, the source of life from deep within their roots was more powerful than any disease they might have. That life, if stimulated with the life of other roots, would devour the infection that might overtake them. “The browner the better,” they said, “Because then we get to see death give way to life – ugliness transformed into beauty as we journey together.”

The feeling at my roots turned into something so beautiful. I could no longer imagine living without it. Though I moved away at first, the more I explored the sensation, the more it changed me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I really knew some people. Our relationships were not formalities: I trusted them. They became more important to me than any philosophy on trimming and pruning.

I stayed with them for many seasons, and they took me in as one of their own. My roots were stimulated to such an extent that I grew strong and very self-sufficient, though, ironically, more loving of the people around me. I never would have believed this to be possible. We lifted one another up in the cold of winter and the heat of summer. We were there for each other through the death of fall and the new life of spring. We did everything we could to enable one another in our journeys as we engaged the different seasons of life.

Then one spring, something happened. Everyone was blooming with some of the most intricate petals and the most vivid colors I had ever seen. In fact, I had no idea this kind of beauty was possible. At times, I was even able to see the beauty in my own blooms. It was amazing. Then this terrible feeling entered my heart. It was almost too difficult to turn to the west. I didn’t know what I would find, and I didn’t ever want to hear the complaining and the arguments ever again. Though things were never perfect in my new life, though there were arguments and difficulties between us, though every now and again feelings were hurt, one thing never changed: our roots were still entangled. I knew to the west, there was only separation and fragmentation, but I also knew I needed to be with them. This feeling was so deep and so strong that I simply could not get rid of it.

“I have to go back to my friends,” I said to my family. “Can I do that and still be a part of you?” To my surprise, they told me that was the point. “Do you think us reaching out to you was an accident,” one of them asked? They encouraged me in this new season I was entering. They also encouraged me to invite others into our journey of togetherness. It became clear to me that each one of them had been through a similar experience: individual – touched – invited – integrated – inspired. At some point in time they too began to realize that the feeling at their roots was beautiful, not threatening. At some point they began to reach out with their roots to brush up against others that were near them. At some point in time they took the chance of allowing others to encourage them in their pruning, to even allow the plants around them to do some of the clipping for them at times. At some point they realized that it was more important to accept and love all of the plants, brown, dying leaves and all, rather than risk the consequences of insisting on perfection right now. At some point they realized they were pruning far more than just the disease. For them, as with all of us, trimming had become an issue of pride, and the more we can cut, the more value we seem to feel. At some point in time…they realized they were blind. As I turned to the west, I heard a voice: “The garden of unity is always at work around us. Elevate others above yourself and everything begins to have meaning.” The words resonated so deeply, and they have never left my heart.

When I finished my turn, my old friends were much closer than I had imagined. Close enough to touch, actually. I was fearful. It had been a long time since I last engaged this community. I wondered what everyone would think of me. I felt sort of alone, but when I looked back to the east, I realized once again that the group of flowers was still so close. In fact, I thought I was moving away from them, but it seems I had moved closer, or maybe they had moved with me; I wasn’t sure, and didn’t seem to matter. I was relieved. I immediately turned to an old friend and said, “You know, fall is coming soon, do you want to go on a journey with me?”

Sure, But What Difference Does It Make?

Imagine for a moment that someone comes to you with this passionate plea: “You have to recycle everything you can in order to save our planet.” While this sounds a little heavy-handed in your mind, you do agree that recycling is a good idea. You strike up a conversation with this person and ask for some dialogue regarding his plea. Turns out he works for a company that not only processes recycled product, but also does international research and development to understand the global effects of recycling. This is fascinating to you, so you ask if you could visit the company and observe what is taking place within the facilities. Feeling he has a potential convert on his hands, he says yes immediately.

As you walk into the facility everything seems normal. There are lots of people working diligently by the conveyor belts, sorting and handling all sorts of materials. But something strikes you almost immediately. You walk by a garbage can – with a recycling container right next to it – and in the garbage is multiple soda cans and plastic bottles that once carried water in them. You are perplexed, but continue to follow your giddy guide who seems utterly oblivious to what you just observed. Later, you walk by a closet filled with all sorts of Styrofoam containers. As you walk through another room with more recyclables in the garbage can and more Styrofoam containers, you think to yourself: “I must be dreaming. These people are doing research and development on the global effects of recycling and they can’t even practice it in there own facility. What’s worse, my passionate guide who tells me that recycling will save the planet has no idea what’s happening.” The final straw comes when you are taken into the CEO’s office and find nothing different. In his garbage can – again, with a recycling container right next to it – you notice wads of paper and soda cans. After he finishes taking up about a half hour of your afternoon with a lengthy and extraordinarily articulate monologue on the detrimental effects of not recycling – which by this time you are understandably in no mood to listen to – you leave the facility confused and cynical. To add insult to injury, as you walk away you notice a 30 yard dumpster marked “garbage only” overflowing with broken down cardboard.

Could you imagine experiencing something like this? Or maybe I should ask, “Have any of you experienced something like this before?” I’m sure you all know what I’m getting at.

For a moment let’s reflect on the story. Not many people reject the notion that recycling is a good thing. We all seem to understand the global impact of billions of people giving back our “garbage” for reuse. It’s an enormous help for our environment. So here’s the question, “What difference does it make?” On an abstract level, we get it: even though I myself – thinking globally – don’t have much to recycle, a billion “myselfs” do. Even just one ounce of recyclables multiplied by just a billion is quite a few tons. So it makes sense. But seriously, “What difference does it make?” Has this information, or these beliefs, really changed the choices I make on a day-to-day basis? Obviously for the people at the company in our story, it didn’t make one bit of difference – even for the CEO.

Now one of these days I will have the guts to end one of my imaginings with that last sentence. Forgive me though, because I just can’t do it yet. Hopefully you all understand by now that I too am a big hypocrite – a big hypocrite in process. But I digress…

"My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” (John 17:20-23)

I wonder if that’s all this world needs. That passage is taken from the book we Christians claim to live our lives by. Now I know that I have ripped it out of context, but it is hard to misunderstand this passage in or out of its context. I prefer to look at it in the context of the entire bible, but I don’t have enough room here or time to do that now. Whatever we want to say about that passage – and many others with the same message – it is clear that our love, our unity for one another in the church, incarnationally displays the truth of Jesus. So I have a question for us: “In which container are our soda cans?”

For he himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by abolishing in his flesh the law with its commandments and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new man out of the two, thus making peace, and in this one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. (Ephesians 2:14-16). And lest we think that reconciliation for all is only a thing of the New Testament: The word of the LORD came to Jonah son of Amittai: "Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because its wickedness has come up before me." (Jonah 1:1-2 – in order to see the poignancy of reconciliation in Jonah, we should really read the entire book. It also helps to read it in light of Ephesians as well).

So, the church is all about reconciliation, and this reconciliation is a global concept. Somehow God and Paul can see the world unified. They can see a love flowing from Jesus that envelopes the world and changes the way people make choices on a day-to-day basis. As Brian McLaren writes, “The church is a community of people who are learning to live the way everyone will live in the future, reconciled in every way.” (The Story We Find Ourselves In: Further Adventures of A New Kind of Christian - pg. 150). We are the church. The church is world reconciliation. I have another question for us: “In which container are we throwing our paper products?”

I believe with all of my heart that the gospel really is good news – but why? Because we were all made – on a global level – to experience the love of God. We were all made to experience the love of one another. His love, and the unity it brings, resonates within every person ever born, though some are almost entirely desensitized to it. But why are they desensitized to it? (That’s another question for another imagining, though I think this one does address it fairly thoroughly.) If people have the opportunity to catch glimpses of the love of Jesus in his church, something inside of them WILL be touched. But people don’t seem to be touched these days by the church. Are our "garbage only" dumpsters overflowing with cardboard?

I thank God for placing me in a community where we desire to work on the logs in our own eye rather than deciding that the world’s eyes have all of the logs and we can just rest with our splinter. (I feel that I should wake up every morning with this gratitude, but I don’t. I think it would be a great benefit for all of us if I did, and I also think this is a “soda can in the garbage” issue for me.) I see in this community people who are willing to live out the vast and complex consequences of living like Jesus. I see in our community people who are trying so hard to be humble with one another and all the people in their lives. For the first time in my life I am experiencing ongoing reconciliation with my church family. And for the first time in my life, I really desire anyone and everyone to come and experience the life Jesus is giving us. At bare minimum, I see us as a community of people who are growing more and more aware of our inconsistencies together. In a real way, through our love, we are awakening one another to the understanding that our actions must lead the way for our words. I truly believe people will be able to feel what difference the gospel makes. People will see our choices on a day-to-day basis affected and changed by the love of Jesus. They will also experience people who will acknowledge their hypocrisies and maybe say in response: “Crap, there's another soda can in the garbage…let me do something about that.”

Does 2 + 2 really = 4?

ok, here's something for whoever looks at this thing to chew on - for at least a moment i hope. i'm really big on the whole concept of incarnational living. no, incarnational is not a word in the dictionary, but it's an idea that is changing the way i view what it means to be a christian.

we live in a church culture that has for decades tried to prove the validity and truth of the bible through objective, scientific methods. we have built large mounds of evidence from anywhere we can find it in order to convince everyone around us that everything in the bible is true. and we have done the same thing for all of our doctrinal minutiae. in the end we have a church that is fragmented beyond description - but fortunately, however, each of the individuals in the thousands of different denominations we have in the church know they are right about everything they believe and they are willing to separate with other christians at the drop of a hat over something that has nothing to do with loving one another. this is of course the problem: loving one another at all costs as jesus loves us is not important to us. being in covenant with one another as god covenanted with us is not important. there are far bigger issues at hand. things like, the style of music we worship god with, how we teach on tithing or not tithing, whether we believe that drinking alcohol is permitted for christians, how we specifically define and believe in the trinity, what we specifically believe about the hypostatic union, etc., etc., etc., etc....

yet we "evangelize" people by telling them they can have reconciliation with god. we tell them they can know the truth about god. we tell them they can become a part of a loving community. yet in our current state, how in the world does any of our talk make sense? we speak of reconciliation, but we are fragmented. we speak of a perfect god's love for imperfect us, but his church of imperfect people can't love one another. we tell them we know the truth, but which truth are we talking about? is it the baptist, foursquare, presbyterian, catholic or methodist truth they can know? since we ourselves are so entirely black and white, someone has to be wrong and someone has to be right. so which denomination is right? which truth are we giving them? can we see that this is the religious equivalent of telling our kids to never smoke while we light up the cigarette in our mouth?

it seems to me our mounds of evidence pointing to the historical validity of the bible and the correctness of our myriad of doctrines are blinding us from the very thing that god has set up to expand his kingdom. i must say here and now that god can and does do as he pleases. he uses humanity and his church in spite of our deficiencies. and even when we are operating in ways that are moving towards a healthy methodology, it is still his grace that is ultimately the power in his church. but i believe god desires to use us not in spite of our deficiencies but because of who we are becoming in him - because of who he has made us to be. jesus has given us a new nature - his nature. our identity is his identity. when we live outside of that identity, we live inauthentically. he created his church not to COME UP WITH mounds of evidence that validate him in history, but to BE his presence in the world around us. life in jesus is a life of faith in community. it's a life of growing in the love for one another that jesus came to earth and modeled. we can never find all the evidence to prove everything we believe about everything in the bible, but that isn't the point. when we look at jesus' life we observe how to live. regardless of your philosophical prowess or interest, everyone can see how he lived. if we have a humble desire to, we all have the ability to observe jesus' life in the bible and then learn how to treat the people in our lives in a loving manner. we look at jesus, and we CHOOSE to love. that's incarnational, and it all needs to start with the body of christ.

so what does the question, "does 2 + 2 really = 4" have to do with incarnational life? i hope it already makes sense. the abstract concept of mathematics means little until it connects with humanity in a tangible way. how would you explain the meaning of 2 + 2 = 4? as a concept, it really means hardly anything. it's two quantities represented by symbols coming together and turning into a new whole, represented by another symbol. that's great. there sure is potential there for something i'm sure, but it's entirely abstract. but what happens when we go to build a house? what happens when we want to measure two different quantities to put in a recipe? what happens when i want to balance my checkbook? and the list goes on and on. all of a sudden mathematics has connected with us in a tangible sense...mathematics has become meaningful.

i'm not really that mathematically proficient any longer, and i could really care less if you try to prove to me on an abstract level that 2 + 2 really does = 4. i would challenge and question you simply because it's fun. by the way, that is a very irritating character trait i have. but build me something using mathematics, and i will be captivated.

in a sense, jesus' life is the house of god - to use the earlier illustration. jesus didn't just sit up in heaven yelling down abstract truths he demanded his creation to simply believe in. he stepped out of a perfect existence into utter chaos to demonstrate his love. he gave everything he could to bring us into his presence for eternity. god connected with humanity - all of humanity - in a tangible way. he stepped out of abstraction and became meaningful to his creation (and please understand that any articulation i could use here is the most drastic understatement i could write, for there are no words to adequately describe god's meaning to humanity). jesus gave up everything to be in community with those who betrayed him. with this in mind, how is it possible for one person to ever feel justified in separating with another person?

incarnational life is bringing jesus' presence into the various spaces of our lives. instead of heaping our piles of evidence regarding the abstract on the people in our lives, it is doing our best to shine the light of his love on them in a way that makes a connection inside of them. it's being the sound that resonates inside all of his creation to some degree. in a very real sense, we were created to be jesus to the world. not to go around proving we are right about everything we believe - which is impossible anyway - but to love everyone in our presence with the humility and gentleness that jesus has created inside of us. each of our doctrines hold within them a divine meaning - an incarnational reality - for the way we live out our lives in community with one another. the evidence we seek to prove the validity of jesus is not found in our mounds and mounds of abstract proof about the bible. jesus' presence is displayed through the incarnational lives his children choose to live from day to day. in this place, the abstract becomes meaningful. in this place, god becomes meaningful to a world weary from the inertia of intellectual abstraction.