All By Itself- a new personal anthem

Phlegm in my lungs, in my nose, in every pore. Feeling like death warmed over. Responsible for one feverish baby and one fashion diva while Debra was away this weekend. Exhausted before the day even started, I sat in this chair yesterday nursing a cup of coffee thinking with some anxiety about the day’s plans.

I had been asked to lead worship at a small Vineyard church half an hour away and had picked out seven high-octane songs, which were now way out of my soar-throated range. I also envisioned the inevitable scenario of having to wear Levi on my back the whole time.

We’ve done that sort of thing before, but it requires a taste for ambiguity.

But perhaps the greater anxiety was coming from the post-church pizza picnic I had planned with a new friend. See, I started this online meetup group for non-religious folks in my area. My thinking was that it’s a bummer that people who can’t or won’t affiliate with a church or religious group should have to live isolated lives outside of meaningful community. I also thought that in light of my near total estrangement from southern church culture, I may find significant friendships myself that will challenge my church-bubble molds in some healthy ways. Mutually beneficial, supportive, non-evangelistic relationships across a spectrum of spiritual backgrounds. It’s an experiment I know, and one I’ve felt called, compelled, pushed to undertake. But I’ve asked myself constantly if I’m way out of my depth. Well, the leader of another free-thought society contacted me and we set it up to meet for pizza in the park. I felt… a number of feelings.

But as I sat in my stained, white IKEA chair, my brain swimming in a cozy blanket of fat and mucus, a mysterious reference floated into my consciousness: “Mark 4:28”. The thought grew louder and louder until I opened my bible hesitantly to find out just what gives. Jesus compares the “kingdom” (the authority of God) to a farmer scattering seeds. Regardless of the farmer’s ambition or activity, “all by itself, the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head.”

I want to be careful with the application. The whole farming metaphor has too often fed into a, “go hand out tracts and get some converts” mentality. Actually the application I find is much more AND much less involved on our part.

But for me, the thing I needed to hear was that it’s okay to just show up to life as weak, wimpy, and honest. Because I don’t control the growth of people or projects. Not really. I like the humility of the farmer. He works hard but knows at the end of the day that soil and sun and rain are going to do the heavy lifting. He’s a clod-covered cultivator, dignified in ordinariness, naturally doing what he can do and joyfully observing that which he can’t.

I can’t make God show up at church. I can’t make an atheist or a bible-thumper think I’m wonderful. I can’t conjure up approval. I can’t create growth or community. I can be myself. I tend to think that being oneself is the apparatus for seed sowing. The only question is… what kind of seed? Or maybe the “fragrance” analogy is more apt here? Do you smell like beauty or death? It’s tough to hide what comes out of your pores even when you have a nice perfume.

But having been one’s self, I suppose the subsequent release is designed to be joyful. We clod-covered cultivators dance happily with the design of the soil and genetic coding of beautiful and nourishing plants. Not because I did it. Because I was never supposed to do it.

Okay, enough of that! The music thing went well. My voice gone, a feverish baby on my back, I felt a rushing out of some pretense I may have otherwise carried in with me. And something special happened which I had nothing to do with.

(check us rock stars out! No he's not sleeping. He's scoping out the lights!)

And the picnic was nice. My friend comes from what he calls “soft atheism” which tends to value relationships, health, and philanthropy. I genuinely liked him. I related with his evaluation of the religious community I come from. I appreciated his perspective. If he can tolerate my faith, I think he’ll be good for me.

A missionary friend once told me he found it easier to get along with people who shared his philosophy of ministry—his way of interacting with people and cultures—than with people who merely shared his theology. I suppose that makes sense and it helps me understand why though I am a Christian, I may wake up one day to find that some of my best friends are not.