It Runs Deep
I mowed the lawn this Saturday. In my household this is remarkable, because I hate yard work of any kind. This is a relatively new discovery for me because up until last summer, I have never really had a yard to work. Growing up, I was lucky enough to have a brother that actually liked mowing. And in the 9 years that followed my high school graduation I have never lived in a place that required me to maintain the property.
So when we bought our own house last year, we didn't even have a lawn mower. Luckily, the previous owner had two and threw one in with the house. We moved in February, so when spring rolled around I realized a couple of things. First, I didn't really have a lawn. What I had was vast a assortment of weeds with a couple patches of grass mixed in. Secondly, our idyllic dreams of lovingly tending the land and creating beautiful gardens and lush landscapes for family and neighbor alike to enjoy were crushed when I realized: a)it was hard, time consuming work that hurt my back and made me sweat, b)it was going to be very expensive to turn our weedfest into even a modest lawn, and c)our throw-in mower was a rusty old Snapper held together by duct tape and wire, with a broken powerdrive and a quirky motor that would die in any grass slightly longer than the fairways at your local golf course.
From then on yard work became a chore, and chores are mostly for avoiding. But this particular Saturday I worked up the gumption to go out and sweet talk the Snapper into a walk through the back yard. As I walked back and forth from my driveway to our neighbors, stopping every ten feet or so to give the motor a chance to catch its breath, I thought to myself, "If I had one of those really cool mowers, I would enjoy yard work so much more. Heck, I'd probably get that garden put in the front yard and lay that sod we have been talking about putting down."
It was subtle, but before I had put the Snapper back in the garage I realized what was going on. One of the signature idolatries of our culture had crept into my subconscious and surfaced in my self talk. The materialism that says if I had only this one thing I would be happy--or at least happier. If I had this tool I would really become a fixer-upper. If I had this toy I would stick with this hobby. If I buy this exercise bike or gym membership, I will finally have what I need to get in shape. If I had this SUV or minivan or time-share we would take vacations in which we could actually relax . . .
My friends know that I am first in line to talk about how Christians should live simply and reduce consumption and refuse to chase the "American Dream." Yet, here I am convincing myself that a new lawn mower will make me really happy about doing my chores.
Two weeks prior to this I found myself bristling when my neighbor (an amazingly thoughtful Christian guy) and I were talking about the imminent death of my Snapper. He suggested, "Don't buy a new one, just use mine. It's silly for both of us to own perfectly good lawn mowers." The pride in me just welled up as I thought "I am good enough to own my own lawn mower, I shouldn't need to borrow yours."
All of this has reminded me of how deep the way of the World runs in me and how prevalent it is in the way I think and feel. It made me repent and recognize my dependence on the Spirit. When I am not intent on Him, my fallen-ness shows up, slowly and subtly like the rising tide, until I look up and realize that instead of the Kingdom Way I am neck deep in idolatry and pride. And I never even saw it coming because I overestimated my own ability to discern the way of the World in my own life.
This Kingdom way, I am discovering, is more and more about slowly following the direction of the Holy Spirit, listening hard and trusting His guidance, and less and less about what I think I know and what claims of "truth" I can make. It is a humbling walk, like pushing a rusted out, duct-taped lawn mower back and forth from driveway to driveway . . . Maybe I can get a few more cuts out of the Snapper before I start borrowing my neighbors.
So when we bought our own house last year, we didn't even have a lawn mower. Luckily, the previous owner had two and threw one in with the house. We moved in February, so when spring rolled around I realized a couple of things. First, I didn't really have a lawn. What I had was vast a assortment of weeds with a couple patches of grass mixed in. Secondly, our idyllic dreams of lovingly tending the land and creating beautiful gardens and lush landscapes for family and neighbor alike to enjoy were crushed when I realized: a)it was hard, time consuming work that hurt my back and made me sweat, b)it was going to be very expensive to turn our weedfest into even a modest lawn, and c)our throw-in mower was a rusty old Snapper held together by duct tape and wire, with a broken powerdrive and a quirky motor that would die in any grass slightly longer than the fairways at your local golf course.
From then on yard work became a chore, and chores are mostly for avoiding. But this particular Saturday I worked up the gumption to go out and sweet talk the Snapper into a walk through the back yard. As I walked back and forth from my driveway to our neighbors, stopping every ten feet or so to give the motor a chance to catch its breath, I thought to myself, "If I had one of those really cool mowers, I would enjoy yard work so much more. Heck, I'd probably get that garden put in the front yard and lay that sod we have been talking about putting down."
It was subtle, but before I had put the Snapper back in the garage I realized what was going on. One of the signature idolatries of our culture had crept into my subconscious and surfaced in my self talk. The materialism that says if I had only this one thing I would be happy--or at least happier. If I had this tool I would really become a fixer-upper. If I had this toy I would stick with this hobby. If I buy this exercise bike or gym membership, I will finally have what I need to get in shape. If I had this SUV or minivan or time-share we would take vacations in which we could actually relax . . .
My friends know that I am first in line to talk about how Christians should live simply and reduce consumption and refuse to chase the "American Dream." Yet, here I am convincing myself that a new lawn mower will make me really happy about doing my chores.
Two weeks prior to this I found myself bristling when my neighbor (an amazingly thoughtful Christian guy) and I were talking about the imminent death of my Snapper. He suggested, "Don't buy a new one, just use mine. It's silly for both of us to own perfectly good lawn mowers." The pride in me just welled up as I thought "I am good enough to own my own lawn mower, I shouldn't need to borrow yours."
All of this has reminded me of how deep the way of the World runs in me and how prevalent it is in the way I think and feel. It made me repent and recognize my dependence on the Spirit. When I am not intent on Him, my fallen-ness shows up, slowly and subtly like the rising tide, until I look up and realize that instead of the Kingdom Way I am neck deep in idolatry and pride. And I never even saw it coming because I overestimated my own ability to discern the way of the World in my own life.
This Kingdom way, I am discovering, is more and more about slowly following the direction of the Holy Spirit, listening hard and trusting His guidance, and less and less about what I think I know and what claims of "truth" I can make. It is a humbling walk, like pushing a rusted out, duct-taped lawn mower back and forth from driveway to driveway . . . Maybe I can get a few more cuts out of the Snapper before I start borrowing my neighbors.
posted by ben price at 10:48 PM
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