Only in Boston

So, I had one of those "only in Boston" moments last week...

Next to my house is a very small patch of woods--we're basically talking about the 50 yards between my driveway and the commuter rail tracks, consisting mostly of trash and a few trees. Small, yes, and a rare find in the city, proven by the fact that they are about to tear it all down to build a park. But for now, it's nice to look out my kitchen window and see something other than cement. Not much happens in these woods, save for the occasional group of kids using it as a hangout after (and sometimes during) school. We call them "The Pot Boys"--I'll let you figure out why. One time they lit a small fire and left it there, and the fire department had to come and put it out. Those firemen were NOT happy about being called away from the Red Sox game to put that fire out, that's for sure.

ANYWAY, last week I was looking out the window and noticed a police car that had pulled up to the edge of the woods. There's a policeman that lives down the street from me, so I didn't think much about it, except that about a half hour later, I could still hear his car engine. Looking again, I saw that another police car had pulled up and the two officers were conversing and pointing into the woods, as they both donned rubber gloves. Naturally, all of the episodes of CSI I've ever watched came into my head and I thought I had a crime scene on my hands!

I went to another window so that I could get a better look at where they were pointing, and sure enough, there was a garbage bag with something very heavy in it. I, of course, began looking around for clues, witnesses, tracks, and my David Caruso sunglasses when I saw a public works truck backing up to the edge of the trees. The policeman was struggling to pick up the garbage bag when it finally ripped open and I got a look at what was drawing all this attention to my little patch of woods: parking meters. Stolen, hacksawed, busted-open-and-left-in-the-woods, parking meters. About 8 of them. They carried them over to the trash truck, threw them in, and were on their way.

Now, this left me with several questions for the perpetrator. A) Who are you, that you went to all this trouble? Hacksawing them off their posts is one thing, but then somehow busting them open, stealing the change and then dumping them in the woods? Really? B) How much money could there really be in one of those things, because I see them being emptied all the time. Really? C) As much as we've all, at one time or another, felt some--ahem--strong emotion about getting a ticket or not having a quarter when we need it, this is a pretty extreme act of parking rage. Was it really worth it, especially since you're probably going to use a lot of those quarters for, um, parking meters? Really?

And as I reflected on what happened that day, it dawned on me that this is so often how we are in our spiritual lives...Just kidding, I don't have a great spiritual analogy for this one. Just a funny Boston story. :)

Lessons Learned #1: Move the Rocks

I'm not much of a gardener. In fact, I pretty much kill whatever plants are in my direct vicinity--I'm pretty sure I can do it by just looking at them. No one asks me to water their garden when they go out of town. This is just an understanding I have with my friends and family: You want your plants to be alive when you get back? Don't ask Stacey to water them.

However, there are a few things about gardening that seem pretty "common sense" to me, the most obvious being this: Before you plant a seed you have to get the soil ready for it. You have to loosen the soil and remove any rocks and sticks that might suffocate the new growth. This is absolutely vital in the process of planting seeds.

We use a lot of similar language when we are talking about ministry as followers of Christ. How many times have you shared the love of Christ with someone, and then referred to it later by saying, "Well, at least a seed has been planted."? We are all about "planting seeds". But how much time do we actually spend getting the soil ready? As William Young puts it in his fantastic book, The Shack, "You have to take the time to prepare the soil if you want it to embrace the seed."

Here in Boston, we say a lot that we are a "rock-moving" ministry. Before we can begin to plant the seeds of God's Word in people's lives, there are some huge boulders that need to be removed that are suffocating the Truth. These can come in many forms: family tradition, past hurt, cultural boundaries, relational boundaries--the list is endless. We have come to realize that we can't just ignore these things and fling seeds everywhere! These are huge rocks in people's lives that are hindering them from seeing the Truth, and if we truly and sincerely love people and want to see them freed from those things, then we have to be committed to taking the necessary time to remove rocks and till the soil of their hearts. And when the Holy Spirit does an amazing work in someone's life by removing the hindrances, we have seen some incredible surrender and strong faith.

And in Boston, the boulders have been around for centuries--literally. From Plymouth Rock in 1620 until now, layers and layers of bad soil have been compacted on top of the good soil. Layers of intolerance, religious universalism, and indifference have been suffocating the Truth.

So we labor to remove the rocks and break up the layers so that the soil is ready for planting. The lesson we've had to learn (and are still learning every day) is a lesson in perspective. No matter how much time I spend on the work of rock-moving, be it months or years, I have to understand that I might not get to see that seed ever planted or the fruit ever produced in my lifetime. But I'm OK with that, because I know that the small part I play in the grand story of God in someone's life is a vital part, and one in which God has called me to be faithful.

And it's a much better job for me than trying to keep a ficus alive.