Retreat Thoughts, Day 2

In my backyard are two blueberry bushes.  They began life in the front yard, but when I was confronted with the sheer size and wildness of full-grown blueberry bushes, I opted to move them to the backyard, where they would be free to grow into their full splendor.  These are not the bushes out of which topiaries are made, and considering that I purchased them for their fruit-bearing capabilities, I had little interest in pruning them.

Since these bushes have been planted in my backyard, I have done nothing to abet their growth.  I have neither fertilized nor watered them.  They have been as neglected in the heat of a Chattanooga July as they have been in the depths of winter.  That they have survived at all is a testament to God's provision, not to any gardening capabilities I possess.  That they are thriving is quite shocking to any who might have attended to the neglect I have paid them.  Without a doubt, God has grown these little plants into mature bushes, and then God has seen fit to bless me with their fruit.  This year alone I was able to pull roughly ten cups of blueberries from their fertile branches.  All I have done is cover them with netting, and that endeavor was a selfish one, done to protect the budding fruit from the ravenous birds that might benefit from my bushes.  Considering how little I have done to aid these bushes in their growth, I ought not to be so protective of their fruit!

In sum, I have obtained the fruit of these bushes without tending to their growth.

In retrospection, I desire the same in my spiritual life. 

I long for spiritual consolation, for an alive and dynamic spiritual life, one that testifies to the reality of Christ's presence and is constantly aware of his amazing and gracious love for me.  I want to be awash in gratitude for unmerited favor, and yet I seem unwilling to invest my time and energy in practices that will open the eyes of my heart to God's presence and love.  I want the consolation, but I don't want to do the necessary work to be aware of it.  It's akin to saying that I want to be in Chicago but have no interest in investing in traveling there, preferring for God to miraculously transport me there instead.  While such a thing is surely possible for the God who designed the heart of the blue whale and the shell of the nautilus, it is highly unlikely.  If I had the wisdom to discern that God wanted to use me in Lincoln, Nebraska, it would be far wiser (and more faithful, I believe) to make travel plans accordingly. 

Yet my spiritual life indicates the opposite.  I act as though I believe that if God wants to console me by the power of the Holy Spirit, he will deliberately and obviously intervene in my life in such a way that I cannot miss it.  I do little to place myself in such a place to attend to and hear the leading of the Holy Spirit.  Taking a step backward to reflect, this is as foolish as waiting for God to teleport me to some distant location.  I do not doubt God's ability to do so—for surely the Spirit did such a thing to Philip in the book of Acts—but I do not expect such a thing.  In other areas of life, such activity would be akin to madness.  Imagine never saving money to pay rent in expectation of a wealthy benefactor appearing out of the blue to lavish financial gifts upon you.  While such an event might take place, it would be far more prudent to save money throughout the month so that the rent could be paid—in this way, one uses the gifts of God wisely to earn money to provide for oneself and one's loved ones.  Any money that appeared from a mysterious and wealthy benefactor would surely be welcomed with gratitude, but it would not be depended upon.  A lifetime of hard work and saving would not be negated by such a gift, but rather enriched.  Both would combine to form a solid financial resource.

It is my honest hope that I will endeavor to invest my energy in creating space in my life so that the Holy Spirit might have cleaner windows through which to shine into my life.  It is my goal to stop more often, to prop open the door of my soul so that the love of God might walk through, rather than always waiting for Jesus to transcend the often locked door of my life.  Just because I believe that Jesus can do so doesn't mean that waiting for him to do so is the most prudent way.