The Garden

My heart hurts this week. I have friends gathered in a hospital, a hospice, and a funeral home. I’ve visited, prayed, encouraged, and offered to help with whatever they may need. But last night, the weight became obvious. Some may shrug and suggest that it simply comes with the job, an occupational hazard. Yes, I guess in the same way that no one is surprised that fire fighters face intense heat in structural fires and see gruesome scenes in auto accidents, and police officers deal with volatile drunks and violate criminals, pastors are expected to face medical emergencies, dying, and even death as part of the job.

But being emotionally connected is also part of the job. Show me a pastor who can sit with friends outside of an ICU, in a hospice room, or in a funeral home without fighting back tears and feeling the weight of his loved ones’ fear and grief, and I’ll show you a pastor who sucks at his job.

The question is not whether one feels such emotional weight, but what does one do with that weight. Early in ministry, I simply did what I learned as a young man. I offered a quick prayer, then straddled a motorcycle, lifted weights, went fishing, popped a top, and/or listened to my favorite music. Sometimes, those helped, a little, temporarily. Then, I typically picked it up again until I could take another ride or throw so more iron around. Eventually, my focus would shift, a new challenge would surface, and I’d find myself prayerfully ascending the next hill of my ministry roller coaster experience.

Now, I go to the garden. No, I don’t go to cut okra, dig potatoes, or pick butterbeans, yellow squash, or big bright red tomatoes. I don’t go to water and nurture beautiful blooms or small succulents. In fact, I don’t go to any specific place.

I join Jesus in his garden. It’s unbound by geography. You can’t get there by UTV, ATV, truck, or tractor. In Genesis 2, the Garden represented the place where man was in the direct presence of God. They walked together without any knowledge of good and evil, or right and wrong. Those forbidden judgements were distractions from what mattered – being fully present with the Lord. In Luke 23, when Jesus tells the Persian-speaking fellow on the cross next to him that “today you will be with me in paradise,” the Persian word we translate paradise literally means the garden. In Revelation 21, as John is describing the new heaven and hears a loud voice say “Behold the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain, anymore, for the former things have passed away,” I think he’s describing that place where knowing God is enough and there is no need to have the knowledge of good and evil distracting us. How could there possibly be no tears, pain, crying… if we’re still measuring ourselves and others by standards of good and evil? John is describing the garden, where we are neither burdened by our own guilt nor distracted by judging the guilt of others. In the garden, we are consumed by the presence, grace, and generosity of God.

When mankind lost our focus on God and trusted ourselves, we were, perhaps temporarily, cast from the garden. But, maybe God never left. Perhaps the garden has always been home. We can’t live there in this life, but our citizenship is in the garden. For believers, this whole life, this tiny sliver of eternity, is simply a short-term foreign mission trip. There is so much to do, so much need, and so much opportunity. Yet, earth is not our home. The life, the home, we long for is not here. It’s in the garden.

So, while I can’t live there and serve here, I can go back for renourishment. I can walk and talk with my Father. I can sit with him. He lets me rest by quiet streams. Sometimes he carries my burdens. Sometimes he carries me. But he always restores me. He always takes the weight from me. I’m strengthened and sent back.  

One day, I’ll go home to stay. That celebration will be beyond words. But that will come soon enough. Today, with a heavy, hurting heart, from a land full of pain and tears, I found who I was looking for in the garden. I sat quietly and remembered who he is, what he has done, what he is doing, and what he promises to do. I approached him with tears and left with a smile. No illnesses were healed. No one miraculously left hospice for the DQ. And there was no physical resurrection at the funeral. But I found my rock, my redeemer, and I have something to offer my friends.

Where do you go when your load gets heavy? Jesus is waiting in the garden. No one gets there by accident. The path is narrow, walked only by the intentional. But there is nothing so splendid as being completely engaged with your Savior. If you haven’t been in a while, simply seek and you will find. Remember, the garden is where one is fully focused on the Lord.