Gardeners for the World--July 27, 2023

Gardeners for the World--July 27, 2023

"I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God...." [Romans 8:18-19]

Every so often, I find myself really appreciative that I took Spanish in high school--for the theology it taught me.  Sure, I suppose it's useful for those times when I cross paths with someone who only speaks Spanish, or if I am reading the Spanish-language pages of an instruction manual because something spilled on the English, or if I want to know what I'm ordering in a Mexican restaurant.  But learning Spanish also has helped me think theologically.  Here's an example that still blows my mind: in Spanish, the same verb, esperar, means "to hope" and "to wait."  Waiting and hoping are, from that perspective, two sides of the same coin.   And both of them are about enduring something in the present in light of the anticipated future.

We English speakers tend to think of "waiting" as just a waste of time when you're doing nothing.  Waiting is what you do in little rooms at the doctor's office, thumbing through old magazines or scrolling on your phone.  In our minds, it's the time when nothing is happening, and when you can't do anything about it.  But when you think of "waiting" and "hoping" together, that changes things, doesn't it?  Hope points you forward, and it gives you energy to move toward your goal.  If I plant seeds in the ground and hope for a harvest at the end of the summer, then it is that hope that pushes me on hot sunny days to pull weeds, add fertilizer, and water the plants.  There is work to be done when you are hoping--and yet, you are willing to bear that additional burden of labor and sweat because of the object of your hope.  You want the zucchini vines to produce zucchini, and so in light of that future harvest, you work to make it happen.  And even your waiting while things grow silently is different--it is a useful, even loving, kind of waiting, because it feels purposeful and directed, not aimless and futile.  It really does make a difference whether you picture a doctor's office waiting room or the active work of tending a garden when you think of "waiting" and "hope."

Well, if you can hold that idea in your mind for a moment and stretch it out wider, that's where Paul points us in this passage from his letter to the Romans.  In these words that many of us heard this past Sunday, Paul pictures all of creation in that place of expect hope that pushes us toward a goal.  All of creation, ourselves included, is "eagerly longing" for God to make all things new, and for the fulfillment of God's dream of redemption and restoration.  And it's that vibrant kind of "longing"--the enduring, actively-tending-the-garden kind, rather than the tedious, aimlessly-doomscrolling-in-the-waiting-room kind--that all of creation is engaged in.  It's like all of the universe is striving (Paul will later use the imagery of labor pains) to bring forth the fullness, the goal, the completion of what God intends.  And in the mean time, the task is hard... the hours are long... and the work is sweaty.  But we, along with all of creation, keeps at it, because hope keeps leading us forward, and because love keeps energizing us to go on.

If you love the plants in your garden, you'll be willing to put in the work to tend the sprouts, care for the soil, and help everything produce a harvest.  The future toward which you are headed (harvest time) gives you the passion and hope to keep spending your energy for the sake of what you care about.  Well, zoom that out to the size of the universe, and you get a sense of what Paul is talking about.  All of creation is straining toward God's promised redemption. And for the followers of Jesus, who are in on the open secret that God is making all things new, our hope in what God will do keeps giving us passion and energy to tend our little corners of God's garden.  With your tomatoes and cucumbers, it might be weeding, watering, and pruning.  In the wider picture of God's Reign, it might mean feeding neighbors, cleaning up the trash along the highway, comforting a friend who is grieving, advocating for justice, providing a meal for a family without housing, speaking up against racism, or welcoming someone who feels left out.  Like the work of tending the garden, we do these things because they anticipate the promised future, and we are willing to bear the sweat and dirt of the work now because we care about the people, the communities, and the world around us.

That's the difference between the kind of waiting that just twiddles its thumbs to pass the time and the hopeful sort that keeps moving and working toward the future for which we are waiting.  Today, we are called to be gardeners for the world around us, spending our strength and bearing the long hours, because we care about what God is growing among us.

Lord God, give us energy to keep giving our strength in actions that bless the world you so love.