Nothing like the smell of compost in the morning

The gardener at the Miksh house in Salem keeps a compost pile. He also grows the most beautiful assortment of vegetables, herbs, fruits and flowers. In fact, that garden is gorgeous.

I love taking the young students to see the gardens. The gardener enthusiastically shares his knowledge with the children. I also love to show the kiddos the compost pile.

Why? Because it’s cool to show them that there is a safe and natural way to fertilize the soil. Plus, kids love poop. In their world it’s a conversation stimulant.

If I were to dig through that pile – and I won’t- I’m guessing I would find the mess of dead things, past dinners, scraps and scattered feline deposits all stacked on top of each other. Garbage, really – but when all the messy past is piled up and sprinkled with Time it becomes the best fertilizer. And those gardens could not hold such beauty and nourishment if it weren’t for the dead and messy scraps of the past.

Fertile, the root word of fertilizer, duh, means to make fruitful. And boy is that garden full of fruit.

So the next time I lament over the ugly, messy, dead things in my past, I’ll think about compost. Without those leftovers, I would not be fruitful person I am today. All of that garbage actually prepped my heart for growth. Yup, it stunk to high heaven when I was wading through it, but Time and Holy Spirit changed the composition to fertilizer. He makes ALL things work together for good. Now the scent of life takes its place.

… God said unto them, BE FRUITFUL, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth. And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat… And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day. (Genesis 1:27-31 KJV)

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The Gallery

I am a Canvas unfinished
Layers painted over with vibrant hues, tints and shades
Unfinished, yet hung in the Gallery

The Gallery opens tonight
This Gallery called the “Church”
Piece after Piece line the Gallery walls
Some finished, some works in progress
All unique in theme, texture and palette

Heavenly thrones empty
Unseen guests peruse each Piece
Dignitaries and Despots
Amazed and shocked as they read the Canvas stories

All Fall to their knees

For Trembling Powerless Despots
It is the dreaded writing on the wall
For Applauding Joyful Dignitaries
It is the fulfillment of their long awaited eager expectations

Nevertheless all react, all fall

The Mysterious Plan that the Creator kept secret
Now revealed in this Gallery of Art
Christ in us, the hope of glory

And I too, yet unfinished, am on display before the whole earth, as His masterpiece.

God’s purpose in all this was to use the church to display his wisdom in its rich variety to all the unseen rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. This was his eternal plan, which he carried out through Christ Jesus our Lord. (Ephesians 3:10, 11 NLT)

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Songs of Joy

“But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.” -Psalm 59:16 (NIV)

Sing, sing, sing. Early bird perched in brittle tree repeats. Sing, sing, sing. Wind whistle, heat pump hum. Puppy’s sleeping huffs keep rhythm with ticking mantle clock.

If I’m quiet enough I can hear strains of strength and love, always – even when I am too brittle broken tired to sing. The music is everywhere, all I have to do is listen.

Having heard, I test my dry brittle voice. Sing, sing, sing my own songs of praise. Songs that soar far above self-pity into the heights of thankfulness. And all things become harmless voiceless shadows while this heavenly chorus sings. The birds, the wind, the heat pump, the dog, the clock and me.

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Eucharisteo: Grace, Thanksgiving, Joy

winterivy copyGlory light cutting through dead limbs, searching for hidden life climbing, covering grey with glints green gold and glorious. Teaching me to see what I could not before, that even in death there is always life growing again. He will always overcome death and the grave.

 

So this is grace and this is how eucharisteo works even in dead places.

 

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