The Root of All...

Mowing my lawn has become somewhat of a fascination for me lately. I've never had my own lawn before. When Christine and I lived in Arizona, our lawn (and most of our neighbors') was made of colored gravel. Sure, when I lived with my parents, I spent part of every Saturday riding on a lawn mower around their two acre homestead. While listening to my Walk-man, Michael Jackson or Wham blasting through my padded headphones, I trimmed the grass, circled trees (as best as I could) and defied death trying to mow the ditches. For the most part, it was simply routine but I must confess, I wasn't really that worried about how straight my lines were or whether there was a little extra grass standing by the lilac bushes.

But now that I have my own lawn, I am a bit more meticulous. I must clarify. When I say a bit, I'm not confessing to murdering every strand of grass that grows against the fence, but I have been known to even mow the grass on a diagonal. In my own head I keep thinking that someone from the local baseball affiliate will come and ask me to mow their outfield. Talk about a great job. High stress, but great job.

In the last two weeks, though, I have let Elsa, my oldest daughter do some of the trimming in the front yard. My next door neighbor gave us his self-propelled lawn mower which makes it easier for her. But, it does tend to pull her forward like a dog on a leash waiting to find the next hydrant. She does a relatively good job except that the portion of the lawn that I have given her is full of roots from our maple trees. Over the years, the roots themselves still pass under the blades without being hacked into submission, but when the tires run over the roots, they cause the mower to go astray. Because I am a bit stronger than Elsa, I can keep the mower relatively straight. Elsa, being eight years of age, does not have the muscle to attack the roots. So, when she runs over them, they toss her and the mower to the side. Elsa's mowing rows look like waves on an ocean or some sort of pattern left by space aliens in a cornfield. I really don't mind the lawn pattern; I just like to watch her grow up.

But those roots intrigue me. From my little knowledge of horticulture, I always thought that tree roots should grow downwards. It seems as if every tree in our neighborhood has sent its hard tendrils onto the top of my lawn. Why won't they go down deep? Why don't they sink in to the water below?

I found the answer that question the hard way. Christine asked if I would dig a pit for the compost. No problem, I answered, but as my spade separated the grass and the topsoil, I noticed six inches down was gravel and hard clay. Flustered, frustrated and quite sweaty, I worked my way down a bit further. I gave up. It was too hard to penetrate deeper. I think my trees do the same thing. It's much easier for the roots to stay on the surface. Rain water is easier to collect on the top. The problem for the trees is, I think, that the reserves of water are deeper and when it is dry, the tree doesn't grow as fast.

This week a friend gave a newspaper article to me (and I have seen a few articles throughout the country in the last few weeks) regarding salvation and faith in the United States. It seems that throughout many of our denominations (and non-denominations) 70% of the people believe that there is more than one way to salvation, Jesus Christ just being one of them. Of course the statistics are based on a small minority of people interviewed but still frightening none-the-less. When I recall my Sunday School lessons from early on right up until today, I don't remember Jesus saying "I am the way, the truth and the life - for some of you" or "I am a way, a truth and perhaps the life for a small minority." But in our fast-food like culture, we want religion fast and easy. "C'mon, Pastor," some might say, "Just tell me what I need to get in to heaven and let me choose from whatever other spirituality to help me cope with my life." It's like a religious buffet: I'll take a bit of what I like from this religion, a dash of that, a healthy helping of grace and call it a meal.

It's all quite shallow, isn't it?

Seeking to send out spiritual roots, many of us (and I'll include myself at times) believe it's easier to stay shallow than to be changed. When things are going well, it's easier to to not dig through our tough clay-like hearts. It's easier to allow someone else to carry my cross. It's easier to drink quickly from the blessings than to dig deep and be sustained through the storms and dry seasons. We are a hard hearted animal, we humans. Constantly I pray that I can be taken deeper with God no matter the difficulty of breaking up my patterns of behavior or methods of thought. We, as Christians, need to struggle with the Word and what is says for our life. Will this be easy - I should think not - but the reward is what hopefully most of us crave for - an intense relationship with the living God, a flowing river into which we can sink our roots and be sustained.

May God grant you deep spiritual fulfilment this week.