Maybe the Church Is More Like a Garden
I have been thinking about gardens lately. Maybe because summer is beginning to let go. The tomatoes are finally ripening. Flowers that were spectacular a few weeks ago are beginning to fade. The light is changing. Here and there, if you look closely, a leaf is beginning to turn. Creation is always becoming. Nothing stays exactly as it was. And somehow, that doesn't make creation less beautiful. It makes it alive. Which has me wondering about the church. Maybe the church was never meant to be a painting. Maybe it was always meant to be more like a garden. Something we inherit, yes. But also something we tend. A painting is finished. We hang it on the wall. We admire it. We protect it. We try to preserve it exactly as it is. But a garden? A garden is gloriously unfinished. Things grow. Things die. Things surprise us. Something you planted carefully refuses to grow, while something you didn't plant at all appears between two rocks and absolutely thrives. There are seasons of abun...