I was mowing the Church lawn last night at dusk and the Lord Christ gave me eyes to see again how aesthetically beautiful the Church and her grounds are. What with the flowering plum tree, and the various flowering bushes set against the Church with its glorious steeple the vision of the ark of Christ as placed in the middle of a garden impresses itself upon those with eyes to see. There are three majestic Maple trees lining the driveway and in this season their leaves, now out in their springtime glory, remind us again, that though the desolate tears of winter may last for the night joy cometh in the morning. These Maples have been three of my best of friends now for over 20 years. They have sheltered me in my reading, provided shade for our Sunday School and Evening services, and have stood guardian sentinels during our Church fellowships. They have comforted us when we wept at Church funerals, shared our joy with us during weddings, laughed with us during Church picnics and have done the valued work of making sure our kites don’t escape. I may yet someday ask them for maple syrup for my pancakes.
One also notices the blooming flowers. Placed there by the hands of Christian women who love beauty they are a reflection of the hands that labored to place them just so. The flowers compliment the lemon drop dandelions which add a splash of brilliant yellow to the green green carpet lawn.
This tiny garden of God stands in defiance of its gargantuan antithesis right across the road. In divine irony, providence has placed the State high school tower of Barad-dur to stand in stark contrast to our little garden. For those who can see with, and not merely through the eyes, standing on the Church grounds, looking across the road is like viewing Mordor while standing in the garden of Lothlorien. How often I have pondered over the years the great contest that exists between these two. They educating their thousands into a Orc-ish worldview and we educating our sons and daughters unto a worldview that reflects the beauty of the garden of God wherein the ark of Christ sits in Charlotte.
With each sweep of the lawn mower I make in manicuring God’s garden I find myself praying, “O Lord Christ, may a day come when it is the empty and forlorn tower of Barad-dur that stands in the shadow of the Garden of God instead of we standing in its vile shadow.”
May our children be like those of Sam, and not those of Húrin!
Wonderful post!