Skip to main content

Room to grow

One of the things that seems hardest to accept about our faith is that we can do nothing to earn it or achieve it on our own. In a world that focuses on success and accomplishment, it seems difficult to understand that one of our greatest attributes, faith, is purely a gift and we can't do anything about it.

In relationship to this theological idea, I've been considering the images of the vine and the branches (John 15:5) and the potter and the clay (Isaiah 64:8).

Branches do not grow on their own; they are fed from the main vine and they grow reaching out to other branches and into the larger world. We understand God to be the giver of all gifts- feeding us from the Word and at the table (the Lord's Supper). The Spirit intercedes in our prayers and is our advocate in all places. God, our Maker, Redeemer and Sustainer is the vine that gives us life and sends us spiraling out beyond our roots to new places where we can flourish. No more can we do this on our own, without God, than could the branches grow without the vine.

So too clay is nothing but formless and void of meaning without a potter, Someone to give shape and meaning to the medium. A potter gives direction to the clay: depth, height and purpose. God gives us gifts, physical, mental and spiritual, so that we might understand the depth, height and purpose of God's love for us and for all of creation. We cannot do that for ourselves, independent of God, anymore than the clay can make it happen of its own accord.

I hope that thinking of God as the Source of your being and all beings today will bring an interesting thought to your mind. I'm grateful for the way I see my life being shaped and for how I've been brought to new growth with all the other vines around me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Latibule

I like words and I recently discovered Save the Words , a website which allows you to adopt words that have faded from the English lexicon and are endanger of being dropped from the Oxford English Dictionary. When you adopt a word, you agree to use it in conversation and writing in an attempt to re-introduce said word back into regular usage. It is exactly as geeky as it sounds. And I love it. A latibule is a hiding place. Use it in a sentence, please. After my son goes to bed, I pull out the good chocolate from my latibule and have a "mommy moment". The perfect latibule was just behind the northwest corner of the barn, where one had a clear view during "Kick the Can". She tucked the movie stub into an old chocolate box, her latibule for sentimental souvenirs. I like the sound of latibule, though I think I would spend more time defining it and defending myself than actually using it. Come to think of it, I'm not really sure how often I use the ...

What is Best (Sermon)

Pentecost 15 (Year A)  Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-9; Psalm 15; James 1:17-27;  Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 I recently read a novel set in a post-pandemic, apocalyptic world. In the book, people were working to re-establish pockets of society. A traveling symphony moved from town to town in caravans- performing music and works of Shakespeare. Early in their travels, they had tried other plays, but people only wanted to see Shakespearean works. One of the symphony members commented on the desire for Shakespeare, "People want what was best about the world." As I read and since I finished the book, I kept thinking about that phrase.  People want what was best about the world. People want what was best about the world. That is true even when we’re not in a cataclysmic re-working of what we’ve always known. The very idea of nostalgia, of longing for what once was, is about wanting what was best about the world or what seemed like the best to us. One of the massive tension...

Would I Do?

Palm Sunday Mark 11:1-11 One of my core memories is of a parishioner who said, "I don't think I would have been as brave as the three in the fiery furnace. I think I would have just bowed to the king. I would have bowed and known in my heart that I still loved God. I admire them, but I can tell the truth that I wouldn't have done it." (Daniel 3) To me, this man's honesty was just as brave. In front of his fellow Christians, in front of his pastor, he owned up to his own facts: he did not believe he would have had the courage to resist the pressures of the king. He would have rather continued to live, being faithful in secret, than risk dying painfully and prematurely for open obedience to God.  I can respect that kind of truth-telling. None of us want to be weighed in the balance and found wanting. For some of us, that's our greatest fear. The truth is, however, that I suspect most of us are not as brave as we think we are. The right side of history seems cle...