Spring is springing...

The community garden is growing. All plots currently available are taken. And everything we planted in our plot is growing, including the eggplants, which waited a while to peek their sprouts through the soil. Keith reports that we actually have one tiny tomato and one tiny pepper already. I'm still amazed by the miracle of seeds sprouting and becoming.

Lucas is growing, too. Here he is in the Monroe church sanctuary, almost as tall as the pews. In a few years, we'll look back on this and think, "Was he ever that small?" I know this, because right now I'm looking at him thinking, "How did he get so big?" He is changing so quickly, getting new ideas every day about the world and trying them out. Lately he's been big on hats and ballcaps. He taps his head and points at the hats, hanging on the coathook, and we all put them on. Then we take them off, and hang them up, and the cycle begins again. If you see me, and I have hat-hair, now you know why.

We've been interns at the church for about eight months, and as we've been tinkering, trying out programs for young adults and families, we've been growing, too. It's hard to know how successful we've been at facilitating growth for the church, but certainly we've had lots of opportunities to experiment with our ideas about what might inspire people to deepen in their relationships to God and to each other.

I must admit that I'm impatient for results in all these kinds of growth. I'm impatient for the tomatoes to ripen. I'm impatient for Lucas to be able to talk in sentences and play more organized games with me. I'm impatient for the Young Adult ministry at this church to take off in numbers and enthusiasm.

But so much of growth is hidden. It's hard to see that it's happening until it's happened. And then the happening catches me by surprise. I pray to trust God in these hidden times of growth. I pray for help recognizing growth when it happens.

Here is a prayer from J. Philip Newell, from Celtic Treasure:

The earth is full of your goodness, O God.

It sprouts green and grows into the roundness of fruit.

Its touch and its taste enliven our souls.

Let us know the seeds of life's goodness within us and between us.

And let us handle its gifts with wonder.

In and out of time

Clearly, I have yet to establish a rhythm for blogging. I hear tell that it's blogging practice to neglect one's blog for very long, that one of the marks of the genre is to keep it current. But I haven't gotten into a regular "updating" habit yet, and so here we are, two weeks later.

However, this is just another minute episode (if you will) in my life of attempting to live in multiple kinds of time all at once. Blogging time. The liturgical calendar (it's Lent, after all). Lucas time. Keith time. Spring garden planting time. The seminary calendar. Taxation time (April 15th on its way).

I preached on the Ten Commandments this past Sunday in church. Out all of the commandments, the one with which people in our world seem to have the most difficulty accepting is the commandment to "Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy." This is where we Protestant Christians like to drag in the justification by faith argument, and claim that the "old law" has passed in Jesus. (They don't call it the "Protestant Work Ethic" for nothing). I'm pretty sure that my sermon opened up this can of worms for some people, as they looked at the commandments and thought, "No murder, check. No stealing, check. But how can I possible keep the Sabbath? How can I possibly stop working, for even one day?"

Sabbath is about resting from work. But I think it is also about how we approach time in general. One of my seminary professors talked about how following the commandments in Judaism (including Sabbath) is actually about "sanctifying time." What would it be like to live in sanctified time, I wonder?

In the past, I've had fantasies of following a pseudo-monastic daily prayer pattern, praying the hours (Here's a website which lists them http://palm.philippians-1-20.us/hours.htm). A momentary glance at the number of online pages that come up and the number of book titles on prayer available demonstrates to me that I am not alone in this. What is it that I hope for, what is it that I long for in dreaming of holy time?

I long for childhood time, the kind of time I see Lucas inhabiting more and more, where he is so deeply engrossed in his play (and I'm so engrossed in him) that an hour passes without either of us noticing. Is that what holy time is like?