If only, I thought, there was something similar for
measuring the temperature of someone’s spiritual passion. I pictured myself
snatching the device – not the soil temperature one, but the spiritual
temperature one and thrusting the probe part into my heart. Would I be anything
other than cold? Would the state of my heart and spirit be too cold to plant
anything that would grow? How does one measure the heat of the spirit in a
person? Is it how they pray? The words they use? Is it in regular church
attendance? How much money is given in tithes and offerings? I’m not sure it is
any of those things. It is about how close a person walks with Jesus, how much
they listen to His voice and how they respond. It’s more than just getting the externals
right.
There were snowdrops – little gifts of spring.
We really didn’t do much walking outside. There was nothing
to see. There would be cut flowers in one bit, fruit bushes and trees in
another bit – it was all a future thing.
One of the ladies in the group was a cut flower volunteer. In the
summer, she picks the flowers, makes them into pretty bunches that sell in the
shop, twenty bunches a day.
We went into the tropical greenhouse. My glasses steamed
up and sweat broke out on my brow. We went upstairs, out of the way of the
downstairs workers who were overhauling all the potted plants. Some plants were
being re-potted, some were being pruned, some were being de-loused and some
were being carted off to sick bay. A plant that isn’t really flourishing attracts
destructive insects that move on to healthy plants. There were some plants that
were too ill and fit only for the compost heap. Every worker knew the names of
the plants, knew what a healthy plant looked like and knew what to look for in
terms of bugs.
Something shifted in my heart. Just for a moment I wasn’t in a tropical greenhouse.
Just for a moment I was in a church looking at the work of church leaders. I
thought of every member – name known, their walk with Jesus known, their
spiritual health known, their strengths and weaknesses known – everything that
was needed to help a person flourish – known. A church like that, a Christian
in that environment – how could that not be a powerful thing? It should never
be down to one man, one minister, one pastor, one vicar being the one man in
charge. It has always been a team of elders that was required.
I am not sure that I am really known like those plants in
the tropical greenhouse were known. It’s not perhaps the role of a church
leader to wrinkle stuff out of people like the diner with the plate of snail
shells and a fork. Maybe it is about the kind of environment that a church
creates that encourages people to be open. I am frequently being prodded by the
Spirit to share something. Through sharing I am encouraging people (I hope) and
also giving people a glimpse into the heart of me. I am perhaps more known than
I realise.
We ended the hour in the potting shed – a place I had
never been before. There were a lot of table nudged together, a lot of chairs
to sit on and a kettle and all the things needed to make a cup of tea. The
woman in charge was trying to whip up the volunteer-gene in us. So many things
about the botanical gardens don’t need expert knowledge to do. She showed us a
white board – A virgin oblong of white space. She planned, she said, to list
jobs on it, jobs that anyone could do. The lady who made up the bunches of
flowers spent many summer mornings in the potting shed.
To serve, to help behind the scenes, to release the
experts to do the jobs they couldn’t do – yet another picture of a vibrant
church. When did we all become so obsessed about being centre stage or being
hauled out to take a bow and enjoy the applause? Serving hearts serve.
One hour and so many things to learn – and not all of
them about gardens.
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