Monday: Manure

I was at a conference a few years ago learning about all the great things going on around the world within the emerging church conversation. I found myself gravitating to the most creative voices, which at that particular time were coming from Europe. I was in Jonny Baker's seminar and he was telling us about a worship gathering some friends created in St. Peter's Church in South London. This image was projected for reflection about the impurity of their lives and the meaning of the Incarnation.

The question looming over us this week is around suffering. Who are we in the midst of suffering? What is suffering, and why is it a present reality throughout history? What do we do in the midst of suffering? These questions are daunting and even terrifying, but we live with them every moment of our lives if we're honest with ourselves. Our text speaks of Galileans being executed, the questions that follow such a horrific event, Jesus' rebuttal, and a parable of a non-fruit bearing tree. It's quite an odd combination to read the first time through. And after reading it a few times something started coming together for me.

I got a phone call at the YMCA on a bright Saturday morning in August. I was 12 years old. My mom was making me come home. I stewed on the long, hot walk home in my quaint suburban neighborhood. As I approach my own house, my family is all waiting for me on the front porch. Still angry at them for making me leave my sacred place, I fail to notice the grief on their faces. They knew something I did not. My best friend was dead. My mom tries to tell me and explain to me, but fails. She hands me the front page of our town newspaper. The picture, the headline, the weight of the page in my hand tells me the story of my best friend was shot by his dad in the middle of the night and left for dead. My family's attempt to console me was met by my back turned, and a dead sprint upstairs to my bedroom where I would lay for the next few hours face down on my floor weeping uncontrollably.

My questions were the same as the crowds who told Jesus about the Galileans. Why did Tommy have to die? What did he do wrong? It should have been me, right? I'm a worse kid than Tommy was. Jesus response to this is that unless I repent, I will suffer and die as well. What? How does Jesus get off saying something like that? But then he tells the story and clarifies or muddles his theology depending on your take. The gardener wants to give this old, barren fig tree another chance. He says he'll dig around the tree and put manure in it's place. If the tree grows fruit, then that's great. If it doesn't, he'll cut it down. But give it some time.

How do we suffer? What does it mean to repent in response to suffering? Who are we, and who do we become in suffering? These are questions I don't have any good answers for, but this short parable makes a lot of sense to me right now. I suffer by digging into my story and sitting in the shit of it. In that place, God is doing something that I can only guess is like what fertilizer does to a dying tree. This is not easy to be sure. But the more I reflect on my best friend's death and all the surrounds that event, the more I grow. The pain is real and intense. Slowly I'm coming back to life, so maybe the owner of the vineyard won't cut me down.