Shaun Groves
The last school bell rang today. Yellow buses hummed into the neighborhood. And children from the cul-de-sac and just beyond soon filled our house.
It will be this way all Summer.
Kids eating watermelon around our kitchen table. Kids playing doctor in my office. Kids dressing up as princesses in front of the hallway mirror.
Kids everywhere.
And laughter and spats and stomping and running and more laughter…
I thank God for the garden.
I know God is every place. But here more than most places.
Because it’s quiet?
Because I’m quiet?
Because I’m alone?
Becky and I eat our breakfast at a table beside the garden. The sound of morning traffic just over the fence crescendos through an hour of conversation. And there are birds and no e-mail chimes, no phone rings, no questions from children who’ve finished quickly and gone inside to get dressed already.
Always a procrastinator, I’m the last one in the house.
I walk the pebbled garden path inspecting the night’s growth…
I feel the soil, knowing there’s no rain in the forecast.
Clover is poking up through the soil near the tomatoes. I pull it.
A worm is drying on the path. I bring it to dirt.
And I sit.
First thing in the morning.
Last thing at night.
And when the house gets too crowded and loud for me a couple times in-between.
Is God more here here? Or are my eyes opened wider? Are my ears more tuned in?
In these raised beds, these meager crops, God’s invisible qualities — his eternal power and divine nature — are clearly seen, understood from what has been made. And I’m without excuse.
My doubts dim here. Jesus fed five thousand with a boy’s sack lunch and it’s called “miracle.” What is one seed becoming a vine that gives food enough for a family? A miracle close-up. I believe here.
My plans are prayed here. Jesus said God the Father makes the sun shine on good and evil and the rain to fall on the righteous and unrighteous. I till and plant and weed but I can’t grow. I learn to depend on the One who can here.
My head is filled with revelation here. Jesus said the kingdom is like a mustard seed, insignificantly small, blossoming into a home large enough for birds from all around to call home. And He is the vine and we are the branches and apart from Him we can do nothing. And a tree is named for its fruit. And a plant that bears no fruit is not alive. And…I see the sermons between the rows here.
I am not alone here. Fame is not friendship. Friendship is not Lordship. Being truly alone here I feel that I never am. Seeing God here teaches me to spot Him everywhere. Hearing God’s voice here, helps me listen for it everywhere. I am not alone here…and everywhere I go can be just another here.
Here I’m somehow more certain of the things I’m certain of. I believe more easily that Christ is in me. And that when I leave here He doesn’t leave me.
I believe and it helps my unbelief to come here.
Where is your cathedral? A deer stand in the woods of East Texas? A concert with a thousand other fans? At the beach with a good book? On your knees in the predawn dark?
Where do you experience God as more present than any place else…when your house and head get loud and full?
Therefore that joining together of head and members, that indwelling of Christ in our hearts—in short that mystical union—are accorded by us the highest degree of importance. -John Calvin
Kelli says:
I see and feel God so much more clearly whenever I’m outside. There is a particular spot on the beach near us where the sun melts into the ocean with such brilliance that I get goose bumps every time.
There’s a lake around the corner with a bench perfect for sitting and listening. It’s quiet there and the way the breeze makes the leaves dance entrances me every time. I see Him in the dance.
So much about His nature calls to me. Whenever I’m questioning or struggling, I have to get out to hear. I wish I was growintitled in the process like you, though. That garden looked awesome! 🙂
Shaun Groves says:
And see, I’m just not a beach person. Sand in my shorts is a taste of hell, not heaven. ; ) But glad you have a place you love so close. One drawback of moving to Tennessee someday. You are moving here someday you know? Oh yes. You are.
Kelli says:
I didn’t know you weren’t a beach fan. I must reevaluate our friendship.
Tennessee is on my short list of places I’m willing to live.
Vicki Small says:
You tempt me to envy, Shaun! We would love to have a garden like that.
You also remind me of two paintings I never saw, but which a man spoke of, long ago, at a convention. The first painting depicted a beautiful, quiet setting and was titled, “Peace.”
The second painting depicted a roaring mounting waterfall and a stream fed by that roaring water. At the very base of the waterfall was a tree, and on a branch of that tree was a bird, tending a nest. That painting, too, was titled, “Peace.”
I’m pretty sure, on another day, perhaps, or in another location, you would say that God was to be found in all those noisy kids, running around. And you would be as accurate as what you have said.
With all that time you spend in travel to faraway places, for the purpose of ministering to children in poverty and telling the world about them, I’ve no doubt that you need exactly the garden setting that you and your wife have created–a place where you can be re-created. God bless you, Shaun.
Vicki Small says:
P.S. I have no doubt that you are more attuned to God’s here-ness, out there, in the garden. We are in the desert, and there are times when sun and clouds play with each other on our mountains, and I know there is a God. And there are times when we have the most magnificent sunsets (sunrises, too, I hear, but I’m not up, then!), and I know He is the master painter. And it just bows me to know that this same God who can make clouds and sun play off of each other on the mountains and also make drop-dead gorgeous sunrises and sunsets also made me, and I wonder…does anyone look at me and see God?
Shaun Groves says:
Wow, what a thought, Vicki. And so beautifully written. I love your writing…anyone paying attention must see God in that gift of yours.
Vicki Small says:
Oh, my . . . how quickly the tears come! Thank you so much, Shaun! Thank you!
Matthew W says:
Sitting on my bed in my perfectly quiet apartment with a good work of literature… With the creativity of God displayed through the creativity of a hundred human authors. Ahhhh….
Shaun Groves says:
Your favorite? What book stands out in your memory as one that God used to make you more aware, more in awe, more __________?
Lindsay says:
Yes, Matthew! I find God dwelling in the books I read all the time. 🙂 I was just getting ready to leave my own comment that said, “Inside a book.” 🙂
JavaJoy says:
I feel God’s presence so clearly in the garden that it makes me wonder why I even bother trying to worship in our church sanctuary every week. Those quiet strolls in the early morning before the family wakes up make all the hours I spend planting, weeding and harvesting worth it.
Jill Foley says:
I feel God’s presence when I’m outside – sometimes when I’m in my garden and sometimes when I’m hiking through forests and up mountains. It does something good to my soul to be out in and part of God’s creation.
Lisa Smith @stretchmarkmama says:
Oregon Coast, Columbia River Gorge, Mount Hood… when it comes to outdoorsy beauty, we’ve got the best of the best of the best (sir!). 🙂
Happy Geek says:
Walking. I can be in a dusty neighbourhood walking by taco stands or along the banks of a river.When I am active and alone and nothing can distract then I can pray. And commune. And my soul can be still even if my feet are not.
Vicki Small says:
As I read the comments, I wondered where else I find God. Of course, an obvious, oh-so-churchy answer is, ‘in His Word,” and of course, that is true, at least, some of the time.
But I “band” parents’ wrists in our Children’s Ministry Center, one Sunday morning a month. (It’s a security measure, for everyone’s protection.) At first, I just concentrated on getting those bands around wrists tiny, average and thick, without the sticky part sticking to my own fingers or landing on someone’s arm hairs.
But Wess Stafford’s Just a Minute concept so stuck in my mind before the book was released, that I now concentrate at least as much on connecting with each child that comes in with the parent(s). It’s usually just a matter of seconds, but whether I’m bending at a 90-degree angle (or more) or am able to stand almost erect, it’s when I get my “kid fix.” To see a child lift her eyes to meet mine and watch her break out into a lovely smile, bright-eyed; or to see a boy do the same–or even to ignore me and watch the train running along the track just under the ceiling, and to yell as he watches to be sure everyone in the room knows the train is running . . . I have to believe God is also wearing a huge smile.
Ann Voskamp says:
Thank you, Shaun… Have you read one of Christianity Today’s Books of the Year Award Winners this year, “Ravished by Beauty: The Surprising Legacy of the Reformed Spirituality”?
You echo Calvin and Edwards here….
Jonathan Edwards: ” “God’s excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in everything: in the sun, moon, and stars; in the clouds, and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind.
I often used to sit and view the moon, for a long time; and so in the daytime, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things: in the meantime, singing forth with a low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer.” (Source: http://www.enjoyinggodministries.com/article/the-personal-narrative-of-jonathan-edwards-part-iii/ )
I think you in your garden are in good company, sir…
Perhaps this makes you one of Mr. Piper’s recommended Warrior Mystics? http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/taste-see-articles/warrior-mystic
All is always grace because of Christ alone…
Ann
Patricia @ Pollywog Creek says:
Ann, thank you for linking to Shaun and Sam Storm’s essay – kindred hearts through the years and across the miles. God is so, so good to His people.
Kris says:
This was really beautiful, Shaun. My garden is so small, just four stepping stones to cross from one end to the other, I think it’s 10ft by 12ft but God speaks often to me there. He also stirs me when I hang laundry on the line and I wonder at why He says the things He does when my hands are full of wet laundry instead of a pen to record such whispers–but then I think that why He communes with me there, or perhaps that where I more easily find Him, as I work at humble things.
I often find Him outdoors. Unlike you, I love the beach, the waves roar in and out and in their fierceness I see His might and feel so small, but so loved.
Thanks for making me think about this tonight, it’s been a gift.
krisyoursis says:
We wound up the “offical” homeschooling nearly a month ago, and the school buses brought the public school kids home for the last time this schoolyear, back on Friday. Being at the end of the cul-de-sac myself, I totally get the house full of kids–some who show up from a few streets over–running around, pretending, pulling all wheeled objects except the car from the garage, dumping legos, raiding my fridge if I let them (though it embarasses my daughter, I’ve decided that this summer it might be appropriate to teach them, gently, that they can’t just open other people’s fridges and go plundering–I do have food for them, always, but we also have a grocery budget and a dinner menu–and I needed those apples for my salad….) all that to say–a garden sounds lovely! If I had ANY clue about how to actually garden, I might try it. Until then, I’ll keep hiding in the bathroom.
Kit says:
What??? you talk to your wife for an hour? Ugh. Sorry, I couldn’t make it past that part of this post today. I’ll try again later.
Kit says:
Sorry. My own husband seems to be “communication-challenged.” I do like to garden, though.
mj says:
A sacred place, God created, it holds all the sadness and joy, and everything inbetween, it all rolls of the steep and rolling hills into the river that carries everything away right to the ocean. Many of God’s animal creatures know this place and call it home. Every year our family makes a pilgrimage, where we do “nothing” but enjoy the sacredness of this holy place for two blessed weeks. Then we carry home the lessons and the holiness until next time.
Jonnia Smith says:
Like so many other people here, I have to say outdoors. I seek out the hush of the forest or the quiet of our neighborhood street late at night. (A dog to walk comes in very handy for this.)
But oddly, even in the repetition of folding the third load of laundry or other daily tasks that require no real thought, my mind can be stilled enough. Those moments never get to last as long, though, so I will always choose to go out.
While reading your post, I was reminded of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s little poem:
“Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes –
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.”
Zoë says:
What a brilliant little poem 🙂
Kirsten says:
There is a children’s home in Nicaragua that I visit. I feel so close to Jesus when spending a morning on the porch there just staring in wonder at the beauty of mountains and jungle and sky.
And when I’m home there is a little place down by the creek near my house where all is still and peaceful and I hear His voice most clearly.
I always feel closest to God while in nature.
Zoë says:
In the car, when I’m doing the school run. It’s an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon. Because the drive is across reclaimed land, it is very flat, which has the strange result of making the sky seem so very big. I could get lost in that sky. It reminds me that when I let earthly things get in the way, I can’t see God so well – but when the earth is flat, all God’s glory is revealed. It is awe-inspiring, every time (well, except when the sky is just grey, which it often is in England – but that has its own lessons, too and I’m still thankful).
Patricia @ Pollywog Creek says:
Beautiful, Shaun. Where do I experience God as more present? Difficult question. Your post brings to mind the time I spend on my backyard swing, but I also sense Him more present in music, and in my prayers at the end of the day….when I release the burdens I pick up during the day.
Vicki Small says:
One of my former pastors used to say that “Music is the highest form of praise.” Often, when I’m listening to worship & praise music that lifts my heart and my thoughts to the Lord, I believe the pastor was correct. I have also remembered his comment, many times, while we’re singing in church. In fact, two or three times over the past 10-1/2 years I have thought that the angels were singing with us, but of course, I don’t know that. 🙂
Amy from Resourceful Mommy says:
Thank you for sharing this, Shaun! I try to make time every morning after the bus pulls away with my children (thank you, public school!) to walk in the woods behind my house. Sometimes I just listen to the water rolling over the rocks in the stream or the birds singing, but this is usually the time when I listen to praise music and just soak up the sights and the smells of God’s work. It’s especially refreshing on mornings after the rain – or even while it’s raining, a favorite time for me to walk – but every time I am alone with those trees I feel God’s presence. It is the perfect way to prepare myself to face the day.
Jodi says:
Thank you for the post…I would agree outside, in his creation…sometimes being inside its hard to see the goodness….BUT then again…somedays a childs smile, looking into their eyes, watching them sleep, seeing them play together peacefully and the wonderous, amazing laughter that comes only from a child is an amazing reminder of His creation and how amazing it really is….
Matthew W says:
@Shaun: Most recently, Count of Monte Cristo. It was a marvelous work of creativity and writing (including a great, understandable translation). I think the fiction book that had the most impact on me (at the time) was Lewis’ Screwtape Letters. That combined good writing, great concept, and sharp wit.
Miriam says:
I have a hard time explaining how 2 boxes of dirt along the fence of our pool bring such peace with God’s miracles climbing out of them. Your words explain it all so well! Thank you! The garden is my cathedral too!
Kathy says:
There have been many places I’ve visited where God’s creation has been so beautiful and awe-inspiring that I’ve felt especially close to Him – the Grand Tetons at sunrise, the shore of Lake Superior in a grand gale with waves crashing against the rocks, the white sand beaches of Florida with the greenest of evergreen waters sparkling as far as the eye can see.
Here at home it happens on early spring & summer mornings just before sunrise on the farm, when skies glow pinky orange and the birds are already singing their praises and the wind rustles through the fields of corn that surround our home. As I walk my country road, I thank Him for the glorious view that He has made especially for me, and only me(!) in that exact spot.
At these times outside enjoying His creation, songs of praise are just waiting to burst forth, I just can’t contain them! The One who made all this glorious beauty is Himself beautiful beyond description. Goosebump time!
Joelle @goldenchances says:
I find God in the notes of music, in harmonies. When a church choir sings to the heavens, I am moved to tears at the sound of all God’s children singing different notes, blending beautifully into the same song. Different notes, same song, together. It reflects so perfectly how we are to interact with both God and man. We are to keep our eye trained on Jesus the Master Conductor while all of us are singing different parts of the song in glorious unison. And in this harmony, we find notes that we could not have found singing alone. So when the choir sings on Sunday morning, I do find that tears stream down on my face even when I don’t want them to (and certainly when my kids don’t want them to…”Mom, are you crying AGAIN…”). But I dare not ask God to take the tears away, because I know that they are in response to my heart being so full of Jesus it could just about burst.
C.S. says:
So beautiful pictures! Being a gardener for the first time has taught me a bit about patience because it means not seeing results right away. ‘Not yet; no, not now; no, still later…’
Not sure of a place to answer your question. Maybe it’s a state of mind for me, such as when I am at my most grateful. Where am I when that happens, hmm.